Andy McNab - Exit wound

2238 hrs

The city twinkled far behind in my rear-view. The Tata’s head-lights carved through the inky darkness in front of us.

Sherry kept her head down and didn’t breathe a word.

The Tata’s indicators kicked off and it turned to the right. Wooden benches and tables were dotted about the desert. It was some kind of picnic site. The Tata’s headlights raked the length of the white GMC Suburban and then stopped beside it. Dex got out and climbed onto the back of the truck to untie our crate. Red Ken opened the two doors at the back of his wagon.

I pulled in behind the truck, so Dex could keep an eye on Sherry, and got out to help.

It wasn’t long before our crate, still on its pallet, was being slowly hoisted into the back of the GMC. A set of headlights moved along the main and swept over us. They kept on going.

Dex manoeuvred it to just above the level of the rear sill. Red Ken positioned the roller, a short length of scaffolding pole, and we pushed the suspended crate until about a third of it penetrated the boot space. ‘OK, Dex, lower it.’

The suspension groaned as it took Saddam’s weight. Dex jumped down to help us push it all the way inside.

Red Ken brought out his cigarettes. ‘OK, order of march. Me, Dex, Nick. Nice and slow, keep within the limits.’ He turned to Dex. ‘Just short of the airport I’ll point out where I want you to park and wait out.’ He sparked up his lighter. ‘Nick, follow Dex and wait out when he parks. I’ll come to you. You then drop me off at the Tata and we move to the airstrip.’ He moved to the front of his Suburban without waiting for a reply.

The air-con in the Yukon was knackered so I had to keep the window open as we headed back towards the bright lights. The wind rattled through the vehicle as I felt around for a bottle of water among all the crap in the footwell. I didn’t find one.

Streetlights soon started to glare and traffic-lights held us at every other junction. I continued to follow the five crates on the Tata as we eventually got onto the main drag to the airport. Dex’s right indicator flashed once more. He turned off into wasteground between a strip mall and an apartment block that had become a makeshift car park. I closed up behind Red Ken and we were soon on the elevated approach road, channelled towards Departures for the Emirates terminal.

We carried on past the brilliantly lit glass-fronted building. The forecourt was almost deserted apart from a couple of taxis, a white Toyota and a blue Mazda, both one up, in the no-parking zone. I powered up the window and stared ahead. I wondered if Checked and White were inside the terminal. The airport was the last of our known locations. They’d be checking to see if we’d changed flights, or were waiting in the departure lounge. They’d be severely pissed off. Not just about losing their targets and not finding out what they were up to, but about looking like dickheads for losing them at all.

I waited outside the Emirates terminal long-term car park as the Suburban disappeared inside. There was still no noise from Sherry, just movement now and again under the blanket.

Five minutes later he emerged from the concrete multi-storey. He didn’t come and jump into the passenger seat but waved for me to get out of the wagon and join him by the stairwell. ‘She doesn’t need to know this. It’s on the first floor, row sixteen. The key is on top of the back box of the exhaust.’

He checked his watch.

‘Red, you see the team up at Departures?’

‘Fuck ’em. Whatever happens, we’ve got some of what we came here for. Tell you what, son. I can’t wait to get home. There’s the christening in a couple of weeks and a lot of straight talking to be done. I’m ready for it. I’m gonna tell her I’ve been a total arsehole, but that’s about to change. No more work. I no longer need to – and, what’s more, I don’t want to. It’s all about her from now on.’

‘That’s good, mate.’ I started heading for the Yukon.

‘Nick, listen. I just want to say thanks for coming on the job. Tenny’s death really… affected us… Me and Dex, we were hoping you’d be with us – you know, together again. It wasn’t just the job, it-’

‘We’re mates,’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t let you two down. I’m here because I want to look after you. Never forget that.’ I turned back towards the wagon. Any more of this shit and I’d have to start pretending I’d got some grit in my eye.

I dropped Red Ken off with Dex and was soon following the Tata again. Within thirty minutes we were out of the city and on the coastal highway. Before we got as far as Abu Dhabi, we were going to chuck a left and head south, as if for Saudi, less than a couple of hours away. The airstrip lay about thirty K down that road.

Above the hum of tyres on tarmac I could hear the odd sniffle from behind me. ‘Sherry, sit up. Keep the blanket on your head and sit up.’

She got up slowly. Her muscles would be in shit state after the hours she’d spent down there. In the rear-view she looked like she was wearing a furry brown burqa .

I shouted over my shoulder. ‘What did your old man get?’

‘Nine months.’

‘For having debts?’

It was a while before she spoke. ‘Bradley has a brain tumour. He’s going to die in there.’

The brake-lights on the Tata glowed. We came to a halt off the road.

‘Sherry.’

‘Yes?’

‘Get down and stay down. It’s nearly over.’

‘You’re going to kill me, aren’t you? That’s what happens.’

‘Just keep quiet. You’ve been watching too much TV.’

Dex killed his lights and I did the same. I climbed out to meet the other two between the wagons.

The wind was picking up. The sky was full of stars, but there was no ambient light on the ground – apart from round Red Ken, who’d lit his three hundredth B amp;H of the day.

We were about seven hundred short of the airstrip. We’d wait until we heard the aircraft coming in before we moved in to meet up with Spag. He should already be at his stand-off point.

I told them about Bradley.

Red Ken blew out a lungful of smoke. ‘What do you reckon?’

‘She’s not a problem to us. She has enough stuff of her own to worry about. I’ll clean her up with the wipes and take her into my room tonight. They’ll think she’s a hooker.’

Dex checked his watch. ‘Twenty minutes.’

We settled cross-legged between the two wagons and waited.

I scooped up handfuls of sand and let it run through my fingers. Dex stretched to ease the tension in his shoulder muscles. ‘Chaps, what about us chipping away just a few ounces to take back home? We’ll get it through Customs, no problem. I thought I’d get three rings made for us.’

Red Ken lit yet another B amp;H. ‘Soft in the head.’

‘I was thinking of inscribing mine with my new motto. “ Saddam gratias tibi ago .”’

I had to ask. ‘Which means?’

‘“Thank you, Saddam.”’

The navigation lights were clearly visible in the black sky long before we heard the jets. A few hundred metres ahead of us, the landing-strip lights suddenly fired up and the desert turned into a stretch of the M25.

We climbed on top of the Tata. No other light sources were visible in any direction.

Red Ken flicked his B amp;H into the sand to join the others. ‘Nick, make sure you grip that girl. Keep a bound away and back us.’

‘That’s what I’m here for, mate.’

Dex held out a hand to each of us. ‘Good luck, chaps.’

We jumped down and got to work. Dex and Red Ken were going to drive down to the aircraft in the Tata. I’d follow.