PART NINE
1
I was so relieved to hear his voice I burst out laughing. I felt my way over on all fours, heading in the direction his voice had come from.
‘He tried everything, the fat f*cker.’ He chuckled. ‘We had Ego Up, Fear Down, the whole A to Z.’
I knew Charlie felt the same way I did, really happy to be reunited, no matter how much shit we were still in. Neither of us was going to say so, of course. If he hadn’t made a joke, I would have.
‘I gave him an eight point five for his Fear Up. Suited him better, in my view.’ I parked my arse next to Charlie, and lowered my voice. ‘Where the f*ck are they?’
‘HF 51 KN.’
‘What? You lost the plot?’
‘The duty wagon. I shoved the magazine under the back seat. Better to hide it and take the chance it’s still out there than hand it to Whitewall on a silver plate, eh? All we got to do now is get out of here, go and find the wagon, and use all that shit to get us home. You up for it, lad?’
‘Big-time. Especially the get out of here bit.’
He was joking, but he was right. F*ck knows what the papers said, but as Bastard had confirmed, they were important enough for every man and his dog to want control of them. I was a wanted man – and that stuff sounded as though it was just what I needed to get unwanted. The tape wouldn’t hurt our chances either, and if Bastard really did have friends in high Georgian places, and a casting vote or two at Camp Vasiani, that stuff might be our ticket out.
‘His name’s Bastendorf. Remember him from Waco? We called him Bastard. He commanded Alpha Pod.’
‘I like the name, but I had f*ck all to do with the Pods. He’s hardly one to forget, though, is he? He recognize you?’
‘No, and I want to be well out of here before he does. He’s going back to the camp. If they’ve searched the wagon and found the gear, we’re good as dead. Which is the way Bastard and his mates wanted you in the first place.’
‘You notice if the twins are carrying?’
‘Not a clue. We’ve got to assume so, haven’t we?’
He rubbed his bristles. ‘What do you say we just call them to the door and take our chances? With that wagon gone, at least the head count’s down.’
I rested my head against the rough stone wall. He was right; the longer we stayed here, the more the odds were stacked against us. ‘That just leaves Hari and Kunzru watching Coronation Street . . . How are your hands? They strictly ballroom tonight, or up for a bit of action?’
‘Sound as a pound.’ He clapped them together, as if that proved anything.
‘So, we checking out of here, or what?’
‘Yeah, but not your way. F*cking hell, that’s Mission Impossible. Let’s check the obvious first.’
We started groping along the walls for another door, or a hastily blocked-up window. We worked our way back round to the main door without success. I gave it a shove, top and bottom. The only resistance was in the middle, but it was solid. It was going to take a few big shoulders’ worth to open it.
I put my ear against the wood, but heard nothing the other side. I ran my hand along the wall on either side of the frame, and it closed around a loose protruding stone. I suddenly had a thought.
I gripped Charlie’s coat. ‘Remember the Stoner in Colombia? That could be our way out.’
‘Well f*cking hell, you’re not just a nice pair of buttocks, are you, lad?’
We got down on our hands and knees and felt around on the ground for more loose rocks. For this to work, we were going to need a couple each, big enough to fit in the palm of our hands.
Something the size of a brick would be the business.