Too little too late.
Answering shouts came from the darkness behind us, and a shot sounded as one of the men got excited and drilled a shadow. It wouldn’t be long before they were swarming around us and our way out was cut off. We had to move fast.
I whistled and got a reply from Tober, and an even louder one from Madar. Darned kid was going to get himself killed — but at least he was awake and alert. Seconds later they caught up with me and we began running south.
We arrived at the cluster of huts that had once been Dhalib. It still smelled of fire and death, and there was a taste of ash lingering in the air, but the bodies had been taken away. Now it was merely a ghostly place with no sign of life. Given time, I figured it would simply blow away with the next strong wind and be forgotten.
We left the ruined huts behind, but it was obvious from the distant shouting that Musa’s men weren’t far off. They couldn’t know who they were looking for, nor how many, but they must have found their man and were operating on the logic that at least Tober and one other were out here, and were armed and ready to fight.
I slowed down to let Tober and Madar catch up. The kid was game enough, but he hadn’t the strength for a full-on run and Tober was having to hustle him along, which slowed him down, too.
I had to think of some way of delaying the pursuit, and giving us a chance to get clear. I could have done with a couple of packs of C-4 right now, but that was wishful thinking.
I grabbed Tober’s arm and said softly, ‘Head along the coast until you get to the first few houses. Madar will show you. Dig in somewhere on the beach and I’ll catch up with you.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’ll spook them and lead them off the other way.’
He nodded and I stepped back towards the track and the incoming pursuers, sinking to one knee while the other two disappeared into the gloom. I was hoping Tober would get them both clear and not stay around to help me. It was pointless us all getting caught.
The first man came out of the dark like a runaway train, his sandals slapping on the hardened ground. He was grunting with excitement, his face shiny with sweat and desperately wanting to be the one to catch us.
He was lucky; he was going to be the one to live.
I waited until he was right on top of me, then stood up and hit him with the butt of the AK, hard enough to drive the air from his lungs but not to knock him out completely. I needed him conscious enough to be aware of what I was doing so he could tell his colleagues.
I snatched up his AK and called out into the dark, making sure he saw that I was looking directly to the west, inland and away from Kamboni. It was a piece of theatre, but I wanted him to think I was following others away from the town into the bush.
As I ran off I heard him trying to holler for backup from his friends, who could only have been a short distance behind him, and the answering chatter of men arguing over the direction I had taken.
Just to make sure they got the message, I shouted again and fired a short burst from the fallen man’s AK towards the voices, then hit the ground. I was just in time; the answering fire was thick and fast and sounded like a small war as they let loose in my direction, bullets snapping angrily past me.
I waited for the excitement to die down, then jumped up and ran for several minutes, jumping scatterings of thorn bush and tangled grass more by instinct than sight. After I’d covered enough ground I shouted again and fired another burst until the magazine clicked on empty.
The Somalis responded in like terms, but this time the firing was lighter and seemed to be going in several directions at once. The sound of my shots must have been confusing in the darkness, and the excitement of the chase would have allowed them little chance of figuring out exactly where I was. But they had also learned by now to be cautious, which was going to work in my favour.
I tossed the empty AK to one side and carried on running. This time I headed south, aiming directly for the town and the beach beyond and hoping I didn’t run into someone smart who’d figured out what I was doing. I was hoping the diversion would take the men enough time to sort out to give me a chance of catching Tober and Madar and figure out what to do next.
Fifteen minutes later I saw the shadows of buildings to my right, and came across the main coastal track. I had hit Kamboni head-on. I veered off slightly left and skirted a long thatched bungalow, keeping low and trying not to trip over anything in the gloom.
The smell of dried fish was very strong now, with the underlying fresher tang of the sea. I moved between two more long houses siding on to the beach and protected by a line of palm trees, then knelt down to get my bearings.
A dog barked in the distance, and the sea hissed across the sand and bubbled out again. Apart from that, it had the cold, dead feel of a ghost town. I wondered how many people were here, reluctant to leave the few possessions they had in the world.
I checked the beach, looking at the boats moored close to the waterline. I knew Tober would have gone looking for a way out of here as a matter of instinct.
And where there were boats, he would be, too.
Fifty-Eight
I spotted Madar first. He was moving along the waterline, keeping low and checking the boats which were moored in a row, their rigging down. He seemed to be by-passing a lot of solid looking craft, and I wondered why. Then it hit me: Tober would have told him to look out for one with twin engines.
That automatically ruled out boats belonging to the local fishermen. If they had engines at all they were small and probably far from new, held together by repeated tinkering and lots of prayer. Only the pirates could afford the fancier machines required to get them in against their targets in rough seas and away again if they encountered resistance on board or an armed naval patrol vessel.
I stayed where I was and checked out the beach either side, listening for sounds of pursuit coming from among the huts behind me. Going out to meet up with the two others might attract unnecessary attention, and I could do more useful work watching their backs.
Tober appeared, stopping every few paces to check his back trail, then giving each boat the quick once-over in case Madar had missed something. I made sure nobody was behind him, then followed a parallel course through the passageways among the huts, keeping the beach within sight.
Kamboni was on a promontory shaped like the head of a hammerhead shark, with the uppermost part of the hammer forming the protective arm of a natural bay. Most of the town was set back slightly inland, with a few buildings and the local mosque closest to the water at the centre of the hammerhead. I hadn’t ventured that far, but from a satellite shot Vale had provided, it seemed that all the boats were moored in the bay, where they would be less vulnerable from storms along the coast.
I paused to watch as Madar approached a large boat in the shallows. We were getting very close to the area around the mosque, which I guessed might have some kind of watchman in attendance. If he carried on much further, he would run out of beach.
Then I stopped moving and lifted the AK. A figure had stepped out from the houses and was walking down the sand. I couldn’t see a rifle but he had something bulky over his shoulder. I checked through the scope to see what it was.
A rolled fishing net. And he was heading for the boat where Madar was standing.
Madar saw him too, and stopped, sinking to his haunches in the water. I looked to my left. Tober had frozen, hard up against another boat.
I heard voices.
The man had spotted Madar. But he wasn’t shouting in alarm. I held my breath, finger light on the trigger. I didn’t want to kill the fisherman just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But if he started yelling, we were in big trouble.