Don’t yell, he told himself grimly.
The woman yanked at the wrench. Porter could feel a bolt of pain jabbing right through him as the nerves attaching the tooth to the jaw screamed out in agony. It was like having a needle threaded straight into your veins. There was a crunching sound, then the scratching of metal against bone. Porter gripped hold of the strip of leather, twisting it into his hand, trying to keep the pain under control.
Another yank. A fresh wave of pain swept through every nerve in Porter’s body. Christ, he muttered, making sure he kept his mouth open and the word to himself. He could feel the sweat dripping off his brow. The woman said something to Hassad. Porter opened his eyes. He could tell the wrench was still clamped to his tooth. Hassad was leaning into the wrench, a grimace on his face. Porter steeled himself, shut his eyes tight and gripped hard on the sides of the chair. He could feel the force of the wrench smashing into his gums. Then a snapping sound. A searing pain ran up through his mouth, colliding inside his head.
He opened his eyes. He could feel some blood hitting the back of his throat, and washing across his tongue. The side of his mouth was numb from the impact. In front of him, Hassad was holding the tooth inside the wrench, showing it to the old woman. There was still some blood dripping from the stem. ‘It’s clean,’ said Hassad with a shrug. ‘Maybe it’s the other one.’
‘Christ!’
As he spoke, some blood and fragments of broken tooth spat clean from his mouth.
Hassad nodded towards the old woman. ‘I wouldn’t take the name of any of the prophets in vain in here,’ he said casually. ‘She’s very devout, and Muslims revere Jesus as well as Muhammad. Make her angry, and she might not be so gentle with you.’
Porter closed his eyes. The pain was stinging through his jaw, but he knew there was no choice. There has to be some explanation for how they found out where I was, and I can’t think of a better one. If we don’t pull the tooth, Collinson’s going to have his men onto us any moment, and then I’ll never get a chance to kill the bastard. ‘Then do it.’
He could feel the tapping of the scalpel, then the cold hard steel of the wrench clamping on to his tooth. This time it was on the right side of his mouth. The woman moved away, and as he briefly opened his eyes, Porter could see Hassad gripping hold of the wrench with his muscular fists. Even with the wound in his shoulder, he was a strong guy. Porter gripped on to the strip of leather. He twisted hard on it, pulling it between both hands. Closing his eyes again, he could feel a stuttering series of jabbing pains as Hassad started to put pressure on the tooth. There was nasty crunching sound inside, and he could feel more blood trickling into the back of his throat where the wrench was nicking against the side of his gums.
‘One more heave,’ Hassad muttered.
He slammed his fist down hard. Porter’s head snapped sideways. The force of the blow was ripping into his neck muscles, making it impossible for him to hold himself steady. The pain was searing through him now, making his eyes water and his head spin. It was like having a jackhammer drill into the side of your jaw. ‘Hold his head,’ Hassad growled to the old woman.
Her medical training had equipped her with enough English to follow the command. Porter felt her hands clamping around the side of his head, gripping him tight, while her frail body pushed into him, providing a countervailing force to the wrench. Hassad immediately leant into a fresh blow. The tooth creaked. Porter summoned up one more ounce of resistance, trying to bring the pain under control. If this doesn’t work, maybe they should just toss me aside. Let Katie get to the border by herself. Collinson’s men can catch up with me and I’ll just have to deal with them as best I can.
Suddenly there was a sound like a floorboard cracking open. Porter’s eyes shot open. He could see Hassad rocking backwards, the wrench still in his hand, blood dripping from the small lump of white tooth at its tip.
The old woman was handing Porter a glass of water. He took it from her, but his hands were shaking so badly he was hardly able to hold the thing, and spilt much of it down the front of his shirt. A terrible pain was throbbing through his jaw. He swilled the water back, rinsing out his mouth, and spitting out the blood and tooth debris into the bin at the side of the chair. Next, she handed him six white pills. Porter took them in his shaking hand, and swallowed them methodically. Painkillers, or cyanide? he wondered to himself as the tablets sunk down the back of his throat. Let’s hope it’s the latter. That’s the only thing that’s going to make this pain go away.
‘They put that one in with concrete,’ said Hassad, holding the tooth in front of Porter. ‘I guess they didn’t want to take any chances of it falling out if you got into a fight.’
‘You found something?’
Tears were still streaming down Porter’s face, and he was finding it difficult to speak.
Hassad nodded, pointing to the underside of the tooth. Porter’s vision was still fuzzy, and the pain ripping through his head was making it hard for him to concentrate. The painkillers were still a long way from kicking in. But he could see a sliver of dark matter on the underside of the tooth.
‘Silicon,’ said Hassad. ‘A micro tracking device, sending out a signal that can be picked up by a satellite.’
‘Bastards,’ Porter muttered. ‘They promised me I was going in clean.’
He could feel the anger burning inside him. He’d walked into the Firm voluntarily. He’d put himself into the line of fire for them, because he wanted to get Katie out. And this was how they repaid him. By putting a tracking device into his tooth, and then trying to kill both of them. And just so they could save face.
Hassad chuckled. ‘Never trust the British government,’ he said. ‘That’s a lesson we learnt out in this part of the world a long time ago.’
TWENTY-SIX
The truck had Jordanian number plates, and it looked empty. That means it is on the way home, Porter decided. Completely the opposite direction to us. He checked that the driver was still in the café next to the shop, then knelt down, pulling out a piece of chewing gum he’d found in the Fiat, and carefully sticking the tooth to the underside of the lorry. ‘That’ll take care of them,’ he said, glancing back at Hassad. ‘Collinson’s boys will spend half the day searching for this vehicle, and when they catch up with it, they’ll just have a Jordanian truckie and bunch of empty crates.’
They climbed back into the Fiat. Hassad had taken the wheel, explaining that he knew the roads better, and was less likely to attract attention from other drivers. As they’d left the old woman’s house, they had borrowed a burka for Katie. It covered up her face effectively, and it made sure no one would recognise her as they drove towards the border.
It was close to mid-afternoon. After an hour’s drive, Hassad had suggested they stop for some food, and wait for darkness. They were fifty miles from the Israeli border by now, and Hassad was convinced they needed to plan their breakout. The strip of land between Lebanon and Israel was used by Hezbollah to launch its rocket attacks on its neighbour. The territory was swarming with fighters, making it one of the most heavily militarised places on earth.
‘Where’s the best place to get through?’ asked Porter.
While they were still in the van, Hassad pointed to the map the driver kept on the front seat. ‘Here,’ he said.