Andy McDermott - The Hunt For Atlantis

“I’ll tell you what sort of donation, Failak,” snarled Mahjad. He paused for a moment. Hajjar’s nervousness grew. “A very large one.”

“I’ll make the arrangements as soon as I return to my home,” said Hajjar, relieved.

Mahjad regarded him coldly. “You’d better.”

“You have my word. Now,” he said, giving Kari another look, “I have to leave. There’s some urgent business I need to take care of-and it would be best if we’re not seen together at the scene of this… unfortunate incident.”

Mahjad nodded reluctantly, and his soldiers drew Nina, Castille and Hafez away while the others boarded the Jet Ranger. Volgan, now too scared to protest, sat in the center rear seat, one of Hajjar’s bodyguards on either side, while Kari was forced onto his lap. With her hands cuffed behind her back, there was little she could do to resist as the seat belt was tightly secured around her waist, effectively tying her to Volgan.

Hajjar took the copilot’s seat. “Oh, Ms. Frost,” he said, reaching back to take her chin in his one hand, “no need to look like that. You won’t be mistreated-you’re far too valuable. As long as your father cooperates, at least.”

Kari jerked out of his grasp. “You’ve made the worst mistake of your life, Hajjar.”

He gave her a smug smile. “Now, now. There’s no need to make this unpleasant. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. And if you want to help Yuri relax…” he glanced at the ashenfaced Volgan behind her, “then by all means wriggle about. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. The last pleasure of the condemned man, hmm?” The smile turned cold. “Just don’t wriggle too much. It would be unfortunate if my bodyguards thought you were trying to escape and shot you.” One of the men poked the muzzle of his gun into her side for emphasis.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she sneered.

“Good!” Hajjar turned to his pilot. “Let’s go.”

Nina watched in shock and disbelief as the helicopter took off and wheeled away. From New York academia to Iranian prisoner in the space of two days-what the hell had happened to her life?

And now Kari was being held for ransom, and as for Chase…

She couldn’t understand much of what the soldiers were saying, but from their unhurried pace it was clear they thought he was dead.

A large military truck arrived at the farmhouse. As the soldiers shoved her, Castille and Hafez aboard, she had to fight not to cry.

Chase took a last deep breath and braced himself.

He had just managed to twist around as he plunged over the edge and caught a small outcrop of rock with one hand. Dangling like a puppet, it took him almost a minute to bring up his other hand and fully secure himself.

Not that it helped.

He was hanging directly above one of the railway lines. The tips of his toes were a good eighteen feet above the track, which even for an SAS man wasn’t a drop to be taken lightly, and there was absolutely nothing to soften the fall. About the only way his landing could be any nastier would be if he were over a bed of spikes.

But he had no choice. Shouts and a warning rattle of stones skittering down the slope told him he was about to have company.

So- drop!

Even though he was ready for the impact, bending his knees and rolling, pain still ripped through his legs as if they’d been hit with an iron bar. He fell heavily, gasping in agony as the unyielding metal of the railway track smashed against his chest. Fighting through the pain, he forced himself to crawl off the line.

Damage assessment. Both legs hurt like hell, and his left ankle had taken the brunt of the impact, but nothing was broken. He knew what that felt like.

He sat up, grimacing at another throb of pain from his ribs. On the plus side, it would have been a lot worse if he hadn’t been wearing his tough leather jacket. After a few deep breaths, focusing himself, Chase got to his feet-

And let out a roar of fury.

It wasn’t so much an expression of agony as a way to release it, to control it. Some of the SAS’s pain management techniques were rough and ready-but they worked.

“Oh, now I’m pissed off,” he rasped.

A noise from above attracted his attention. Not the soldiers coming after him, but Hajjar’s helicopter, disappearing over a ridge. The hook-handed bastard was taking Kari away, planning to force a ransom from her father.

What to do?

Kari Frost was his employer-and he doubted her father would be very understanding if he let anything happen to her. A failure like that would probably end his career on the spot. Nobody would ever hire him again.

On the other hand, as his employer she had given him a very specific order-the reason he’d been hired in the first place.

Protect Nina Wilde.

And if the soldiers had her, they probably had Castille and Hafez as well. The truck he’d seen could only go one way, back down the road past the train yard.

The train yard…

If he could get there in time, he might be able to find another vehicle, a way to follow them.

And rescue them.

Gritting his teeth as pain jabbed through his ankle, Chase ran along the railway line.

Don’t worry,” said Castille to Nina as the truck lurched down the dirt road, “we’ll be okay.”

“How?” she demanded, holding up her handcuffed wrists. “We’ve been arrested, Kari’s been kidnapped, and Chase is dead!”

She was taken aback when both Castille and Hafez made amused noises. “Eddie has survived worse,” Hafez told her.

“What could be worse than being shot at and then falling off a cliff?”

“Well, there was this time when we were in Guyana -” Castille began, before one of the soldiers shouted at him in Farsi, jabbing the gun into his stomach as a final punctuation. “Ai. It seems these idiots would prefer us not to talk.”

“These idiots,” snapped another soldier, “speak English too.”

“But I bet they don’t speak French,” Castille smoothly continued in one of his native languages.

“I bet they don’t!” Nina replied in kind. That earned her an angry shout from one of the soldiers, and Castille another jab in the gut.

The rest of the uncomfortable journey took place in silence. Nina kept her eyes fixed on Castille, rather than on the bodies lying on the floor.

Eventually the truck came to a stop with a squeal of brakes. Nina blinked in the harsh daylight as the troops pulled her out.

They were at the train yard she’d seen earlier, four long parallel tracks running alongside the main lines and feeding back into them at each end. There was a short train on the nearest siding, three passenger cars headed by an idling diesel locomotive. A much longer freight train waited on another track. She could hear the bleating of sheep or goats coming from the wagons.

Captain Mahjad stood before his prisoners, hands on his hips. “What are you going to do to us?” Nina asked.

“Take you to trial for the murder of my men,” he said. “You’ll be found guilty, and put to death.”

“What!” she shrieked. “But we didn’t even do anything!”

“Don’t argue,” said Castille. “He’s crooked, you won’t be able to talk him-” A soldier savagely swung his rifle and smashed it into Castille’s back, dropping him to the ground.

“You’re lucky I don’t just shoot you right now and say you were trying to escape,” snarled Mahjad. For a moment he seemed to be considering it, but then he issued more orders. The soldiers pulled Nina and Hafez to the train’s front car, another pair hauling Castille up by his arms and dragging him after them.