Wolf (Will Slater #1) by Matt Rogers

Author:Matt Rogers [Rogers, Matt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B07651N8T9
Published: 2017-10-09T11:00:00+00:00

29

It was the definition of a race against the clock.

Slater screamed toward the Land Cruiser he and Abu had exited minutes earlier, the same vehicle taken off the al-Qaeda mercenary who had stormed into Qasam in search of his head. He heard the drone of approaching engines resonating over the walls of the compound. Now that he had stepped down onto the hot, dusty earth, his view was blocked. He couldn’t see a thing, operating off his hearing alone — a dangerous notion, given how the conflict inside the mansion had impaired it.

The sweat began to flow freely from his pores.

Underneath the baking desert sun, he dove into the cabin, wrenching open the driver’s door and slotting into the seat. It was stifling within the Land Cruiser, its interior having been fully exposed to the sun while Slater and Abu were inside.

Abu.

A bolt of fear rang through Slater. An overwhelming number of tribesmen were heading for the compound, and if they searched the mansion all at once they were destined to stumble across the man at some point.

Slater needed to cause a scene.

One that would make everyone forget about searching for the computer technician.

He also needed to make it through the front gate before it was blocked off by the motorcade.

He watched the military vehicle containing the three perimeter guards barrel out of the compound, twisting radically on the hot earth and screaming out of sight.

At the same time, the din of the approaching convoy grew louder.

He slammed the truck into gear and stamped on the accelerator — as he did so, the front gates began to trickle closed, accompanied by an electronic whir.

‘Oh, fuck,’ Slater muttered.

The tyres spun on the loose sand, kicking up geysers of the stuff as he battled for control of the Land Cruiser. He slammed back into his seat as they found purchase and the truck rocketed off the mark, spearing toward the gate.

It inched steadily closed.

A couple of seconds into the mad dash, he realised he would make it through the gates in time. He breathed a momentary sigh of relief, ignoring the sweat drenching his forehead.

Then the convoy roared into view all at once. Three pick-up trucks led the pack, racing into the narrow mouth of the compound’s entrance. The two vehicles on the far side had a little more ground to cover — they were aiming to form a tight semi-circle, blocking off the entrance to anyone attempting escape.

And they were about to succeed.

A head-on collision was imminent. Slater passed through the closing gates with inches to spare and aimed for the far side of the fast-moving blockade. The third truck moved to block him off.

He pressed down harder on the accelerator.

It was all or nothing.

In the blink of an eye, the cabin of his vehicle passed out onto open ground. The truck packed with tribesmen speared nose-first into his Land Cruiser’s rear tray, accompanied by a horrific metal screeching. Sparks flew, and automatic rifle fire crackled in the air.

Slater realised the men in the enemy truck were firing on him, even as the collision took place.

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