“No, they’ll make us out. Up there we have no cover.”
“So how are we getting to the main gate?”
“I know a shortcut.”
Abdul went through a couple of doors straight ahead then turned left. The maze of covered streets in Ghadames stretched for miles. The town, at the edge of the Sahara Desert and just seven miles from the border with Algeria and Tunisia, was built over the ground but with a roof on top, to keep out destructive sandstorms and sweltering heat waves. Skylight openings and arched windows drew in the faint glow of the moon.
Whiz, whiz.
Two bullets struck the wall only inches away from Justin’s head. Their airwaves swept over his face and dust flew out of the ricochet holes.
“Stay away from the windows,” Justin shouted at Abdul.
“OK. We’re almost there.”
Abdul slowed down after a dozen steps and waited for Justin to catch up to him. Standing by a small doorway, he pointed outside. “You can see the town’s gate, right over there.”
Justin followed Abdul’s hand. The tall archway stood about two hundred yards away.
“We’re not gonna make it.” Justin pointed at a white Toyota truck parked about ninety feet to their left. Four men wielding assault rifles and rocket-propelled grenades were positioned behind the car, barricading the fugitives’ only escape route.
“Cover me.” Abdul slammed a fresh magazine into his rifle.
Justin pointed his weapon toward the truck and sprayed a barrage of bullets. One man plopped to the ground. Another started twitching and pulling at his left leg. The last two crawled to the rear without returning fire.
Abdul bolted toward the Toyota, as fast as he could push his weak frame. Justin ran after and kept firing until he heard the hollow click of the gun’s hammer striking the empty chamber. He ducked for cover behind a small wall to his left then inserted a full magazine into his weapon. Gunfire erupted from the barricade. Bullets scraped the wall and the ground around him. Moments later, there was a brief moment of relative calm, and Justin took a quick peek.
“They’re all dead.” Abdul climbed inside the Toyota.
Justin ran toward him, glancing only once at the row of houses behind them. “You’re wounded.” He pointed at Abdul’s right side.
A bullet had pierced Abdul’s body a couple of inches underneath his ribcage.
“Flesh wound. Nothing serious,” Abdul replied. “Get in.”
Justin jumped into the passenger’s seat. Abdul stepped on the gas pedal. He raised a storm of dust as the Toyota bounced over bumps and ruts, swerving toward the main gate. A second later, a torrent of bullets thudded against the truck’s tailgate and the cabin’s doors. A group of men were firing at their truck from the houses’ rooftops. Justin shot back. One of the men fell over the wall. The rest withdrew beyond his sight.
“There’s a car behind us,” Abdul said.
Out of the corner of his eye, Justin took in a Jeep gaining on them. “I’m empty.”
“So am I.”
Justin looked at the back seats, but there were no weapons or ammunition. His eyes moved to the end of the truck, where he saw a RPG launcher and a wooden box loaded with grenades.
“Got it,” he said.
He crawled to the back seat and squeezed through the small window, landing against the rails. He snatched a grenade from the box and checked the RPG launcher before attaching the grenade to the front of the weapon. He shouldered it with a swing, struggling for balance on one knee, and then he pulled the trigger, just as the Toyota veered to the left.
The projectile screamed out of the weapon. A plume of gray smoke billowing from the weapon’s blast cone engulfed the truck. Justin coughed and heaved. As the smoke cleared, he saw the grenade exploding into the dome of the town’s mosques, tearing it to shreds. The six-story-high minaret went tumbling to the ground like a sandcastle swept by a strong wave.
“The Jeep,” Abdul shouted. “That’s the target.”
“Thank you. What was I thinking?”
The Jeep was now about eighty yards behind them. Before Justin could reach for another grenade, sparks flared up from the bullets thumping against the truck. Rifle muzzles flashed from two assailants firing from both sides of the Jeep. A bullet ricocheted off the wooden box and grazed his left leg.
With a loud shout, Justin screwed another warhead to the launcher. He readied the RPG for the next round of fire. Abdul steered the truck around a corner, the last one inside the town. They raced through a narrow tunnel, the main gate of Ghadames. Two black Nissans were parked about one hundred yards outside the town walls. Three silhouettes stood by the vehicles. One of them, slimmer than the others, sported a long ponytail.
“Bashir’s cars,” Abdul said.
“So those should be the freed hostages.”
Abdul peered for a long second before answering, “Yes, they are.”
“And I see Carrie too,” Justin said, his joy clear in his voice after seeing his partner was safe. “Now stop the car.”
“Why?”
“So I can aim the RPG.”
Abdul stopped. Justin aimed at the mouth of the tunnel and pressed the launcher firmly against his right shoulder. As soon as the Jeep appeared halfway through the gate, he fired the RPG. The grenade barreled toward the target with a swishing screech. The warhead slammed into the Jeep. Swallowed up in flames, the vehicle burst into a massive, fiery explosion. The entire tunnel caved in over the burning hulk.
“We’re home free now.” Justin dropped the launcher by his feet and collapsed against the cabin.
“Yes, brother, we are,” Abdul said.
He waited until Justin was back in his passenger’s seat before saying, “My boss won’t be pleased with you blowing up the mosque and destroying the gate.”
“He might change his mind once he learns the terrorists are crushed and the hostages are free.”
The truck growled while its tires spun over loose sand. Abdul eased off the gas pedal, allowing the tires to regain traction. They covered the short distance to Bashir’s cars, and Justin jumped out of the truck, right into Carrie’s arms.
“Are you OK?” she asked.
“Yes. So happy to see you.” Justin enjoyed the safety and the comfort of her embrace. “And you guys.” He nodded at the two doctors.
The former hostages’ faces were pale, but they gave Justin bright smiles.
“Sorry it took the cavalry some time to get here,” Carrie said.
“It’s all good. Let’s go.” Justin headed toward one of the Nissans.
Chapter One
“Good morning, Justin.” Carrie smiled as she entered his sparsely furnished office, bearing a tray holding coffee cups and a brown paper bag. A foot-high pile of bank transaction printouts took up half the space on his desk, with very little room for Justin’s laptop. He was sitting behind it. Carrie took one of the seats.
“Hi, Carrie. How are you?” He took one of the coffee cups from the tray. “Thanks for this,” he said before taking a small sip. “What do you have in there?” He pointed at a brown paper bag she placed precariously over the bank records.
“Breakfast. I bet you haven’t eaten anything yet.”
“No time. Couldn’t wait to come to the office and pore over these financial statements. As a child, this is what I always dreamed of doing. Bookkeeping.”
He rubbed his dimpled chin, then ran his fingers through his hair. Justin had a Mediterranean complexion — dark olive skin, raven wavy hair, big black eyes and a large thick nose — inherited from his Italian mother.
“Have a blueberry muffin. It will cheer you up. Fresh baked.”