‘Run like hell,’ said Hassad. ‘It’s not safe here.’
Porter hardly had time to take in the scene around them. It was still night-time, and visibility was limited. They had emerged about eighty metres from the main entrance to the mine. There was a huge crater in the ground where the missile had smashed into the site, throwing up a ton of hot, molten rock as it cleaved its way through the ground. A few corpses were scattered around the entrance: men who must have been killed when the missile first struck. However, up to a dozen more were still standing, grouped twenty metres behind that, too far away for them to be able to see Porter. Guys who were out on patrol or too far from the missile strike to be killed on the first impact, he reckoned. Probably trying to figure out what the hell has just happened to them.
And whether there is anything they can do for the poor bastards trapped down below.
Porter grabbed hold of Katie, and slung her onto his back. With some food and water and medicine she might be up to walking soon. But not yet. Never mind, Porter decided, as he started to walk steadily forwards. I’ll carry her all the way back to London if I have to. It would be worth it just to see the look on that bastard Collinson’s face.
‘This way,’ hissed Hassad.
He was tabbing across the open ground. The mine was at the centre of a big, open-cast pit, like a moon crater but filled with old and rusting machinery. The banks rose up steeply, taking you back to level ground, but there were pathways and tracks where the trucks must have carried the finished metals they dug here out towards the railways and ports. It was about thirty metres, heavy going with Katie clinging to your back, but they made it. A couple of times, Porter could feel the ground shake beneath him, like the tremors from an earthquake. Some of the soldiers near the entrance a hundred metres behind them were running around, shouting as holes appeared in the ground where the mine was collapsing. One or two men appeared to have made their way out to the surface, but not many. More explosions, Porter reflected grimly, as he listened to the ground cracking beneath his feet. Finishing off whatever poor sods are still down there.
Sweat was pouring off his skin as he marched on. He’d ripped the wet mask off his face: the air up here was clear and fresh, and just getting some oxygen into his lungs was doing him good, but he was half naked, and his body had taken a terrible beating in the past few hours. There were cuts and bruises all over him, and his skin felt charred from the intense heat of the mine. His lungs felt as if he’d just smoked about two million cigarettes, and his head was spinning.
Even as he walked, the questions were starting to loop through Porter’s mind.
Who the hell fired that missile? The British? The Israelis?
But why?
If they knew where we were, why not just send in a Regiment unit to try and break us out?
Whoever fired that monster must have been reckoning to kill everyone in the mine.
Including us.
As they reached the top of the pathway, Porter laid Katie on the ground. Up over the ridge, the first glimmers of dawn were starting to break through the night sky. It must be five thirty, maybe six in the morning, Porter thought.
Saturday.
The day scheduled for the execution.
But the danger was far from over. Indeed, it might be just beginning.
I’ve no idea where the border is. Or how far we are from safety …
He knelt down and wiped some of the soot away from Katie’s forehead with the palm of his hand. Christ, we better keep this girl away from a mirror for the next couple of days, he thought. Her eyes were like a couple of squashed tomatoes, and her complexion had turned the mucky grey of school-dinner stew. There were scabs across her cheek where she had been cut. And her body was wasting into little more than a skeleton with some ill-fitting skin stretched over it.
‘We’re getting you home,’ he said.
‘Thanks,’ she croaked.
‘Just hang in there, that’s all.’
They had paused just where the mine met an old road, made from broken and chipped concrete. Porter was already looking at Hassad suspiciously, wondering if he could be trusted to keep his word or if he was about to call out to his mate. ‘Over there,’ hissed Hassad, pointing towards a tin shack with half its roof blown away. ‘There’s a car we can use. We stashed a few around the edge of this mine in case we needed a quick escape. The keys are left in them, and there’s fuel in the tank.’
Only another twenty metres, Porter thought. They were even further from the Hezbollah guards now, and unlikely to be spotted. But he wasn’t sure Katie should be carried any longer. ‘Bring it here,’ he muttered.
Hassad jogged across the road. Again, Porter wondered if he’d escape. Maybe go and get his mates and come and capture Katie again. Or just escape in the car. He checked the AK-47 on his back, making sure there was still some ammo left in its magazine. If he had to, he’d take the bastard down, and escape on foot himself. But Hassad had given his word when he saved his life back there in the mine. Just so long as he kept it …
The car was an old, grey VW Polo, with what looked to Porter like a hundred thousand miles on the clock. It reeked of diesel and cigarette fumes. Its engine roared and stuttered, but seemed to be spinning fine. Hassad twisted the wheel around, pulling it up next to Porter, and flung the door open. Porter grabbed Katie, pulled back the passenger seat, and laid her flat down on the back. She was in no state to sit up, he judged. He pulled the seat belt down to fasten it around her so that she wouldn’t get knocked around too much. There was no telling what kind of roads they might meet. Nor what kind of opposition.
‘Drive carefully,’ he muttered towards Hassad. ‘She can’t take much more.’
‘We still have to get past the soldiers.’
‘Do what —’
‘You think they’re going to be happy to see you drive off with their hostage?’
‘You bloody promised you’d get us to the border.’
‘But my promise doesn’t extend to the rest of Hezbollah.’
Porter looked around. They were on a ridge on the top of the open-cast mine. The road twisted around its edge, before linking up with the main highway about a mile away. Porter didn’t know how many soldiers had remained on the surface and survived the missile strike, but enough to put up a stout resistance should they catch wind of what was afoot. Behind them was a tall, rocky set of mountains. The dawn was starting to break through now, spreading a fresh orange light across the landscape, and yet as Porter surveyed the rocks, he could see there was no way through. Not by car anyway. They might be able to make their way on foot, but the condition they were in, and without any water or supplies, they might easily die within a few miles.
‘Is there a side road?’ said Porter.
Hassad shook his head, gunning up the engine at the same time.
‘Do we look like idiots?’ he said. ‘We chose this old mine because it’s simple to monitor anything coming in or out. You take the main road, which always has some guards on it, or else you have to walk through the mountains and desert, but that’s a hard and difficult journey.’
Hassad tapped his foot on the accelerator. The Polo roared and started to rev, then spun along the track, kicking up a cloud of dust as it did so. ‘They think we’re still down in that mine, and that means they think we’re dead,’ said Hassad. ‘They won’t be looking for us.’
Porter glanced round. Katie was lying motionless on the seat. Her eyes were half closed and she was breathing slowly. They had to get her some food and water soon. She wasn’t going to last much longer.
How far is it to the border? Porter asked himself again.
The Polo was powering steadily. Around the perimeter of the open-cast mine was about half a mile, and for its age, the VW had plenty of acceleration left in it. Hassad was just keeping the engine ticking over, not trying to push it too fast. The road was rough and pitted with stones, and even if you did try to push it above fifty miles an hour, you would probably just crack the suspension. ‘Put your head down while I drive past the soldiers,’ muttered Hassad. ‘And then we just need to get through the roadblock.’