A Hostile State by Adrian Magson (reading eggs books txt) 📗

clubbed him with the butt of his rifle and his comrades dragged the man away, pursued by a handful of women and children, all pleading with them to let him go.

When the scene was swallowed up by a denser curtain of smoke moving across I knew that was our signal to move. If they saw our vehicle they’d be down on us in force, our appearance in this remote place too unusual to ignore.

‘Back up,’ I said. ‘But slowly.’

FOURTEEN

Isobel took her foot off the brake. The gradient did the rest, drawing us back soundlessly down the slope until we were out of sight of the encampment. With a quick spin of the wheel we were facing downwards and building up momentum until we reached the road, where Isobel hit the starter and turned right.

‘I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised,’ she muttered. ‘Why wouldn’t they be here, poor buggers. The house is isolated, it’s empty, it’s shelter and they have nothing. No doubt the military will move them on eventually. I’d better inform London as soon as I can in case anyone else is thinking of using the house.’

‘How often do they check it?’

‘It’s been on the books for years. They’re supposed to get someone to call by every now and then, but I doubt they were able to do anything faced with all those people.’ She changed gear and put her foot down, leaving a cloud of dust behind us. ‘There’s a space I know further on. It’s not shelter as such but hopefully it’ll be deserted.’

‘Why do they keep the house on?’

‘Who knows? It’s probably a hangover from way back and they never got round to shutting it down. Our civil service is hooked on property-owning, even though it’s not theirs. There are vast tracts of Britain owned by the government but not used for anything apart from lobbing missiles and shells at targets. Are you a property hound?’

‘I am.’ In fact I had three properties to my name, all city apartments in different capitals and little more than temporary bolt-holes-cum-investments. I spent little time in any of them and would turn them all in if the need arose and I had to disappear.

We drove for an hour, passing more columns of military traffic interspersed with motorbikes, mopeds and pickups. The troops gave us the eye as they swept by but made no move to stop us. Eventually Isobel pulled off the road onto a narrow track through a rocky outcrop surrounded by stunted olive trees and dried grass. It didn’t look as if much traffic came this way and I guessed it was a deserted farm track leading nowhere. Once in among the rocks she turned the car around and cut off the engine.

‘We need shut-eye,’ she said, and slid her seat back. ‘Can you take first watch? The next stop is a couple of hours away.’

I took a short walk to keep myself awake and checked out our surroundings. It wasn’t scenic and the heat was hitting me from both directions, weighing on my head and coming off the ground like an open oven. After forty minutes I gave her a nudge and we changed places.

It didn’t last long enough, and I was jerked awake by her hand on my arm.

‘I think we’ve got company,’ she said, and nodded through the windscreen.

A dusty 4WD was trundling slowly towards us, disappearing occasionally as it followed the winding track, the sun glancing off the windscreen and obscuring the inside. Then it turned and stopped, and three men climbed out.

They were dressed in dirty combat pants, plain shirts and scruffy trainers and each carried an AK-47 assault rifle swinging by their side. They were young, skinny and I put their ages in their twenties. Thugs looking for trouble and easy money.

‘Bandits,’ Isobel confirmed. ‘They watch the road from up on one of the slopes and hope to pick off anyone who looks vulnerable.’

I checked the Hi-Power and the Kahr and handed the Kahr to Isobel. She took it and checked it over. Whoever the men were it didn’t look good, but the more fire-power we could show them the better. We had no way out of here except past them and I doubted they were going to let us go with a smile and a wave.

They strolled towards us with a swagger. They didn’t look particularly wary, but I put that down to inexperience or arrogance. They’d seen us go by and decided to try their luck. This was their territory and they could do whatever they liked. Anyway, what could two people in a little jeep do to stop them? To them we must have looked like easy prey.

I said, ‘Lower your window. When I say, step out, use the door for cover and show them your gun. I’ll do the same. If they look like shooting, shoot back.’ I wasn’t sure it would work but we didn’t have any option. This was the brutal reality of a country where factional groups like this ruled in spite of the military presence because they had the weaponry and the ability to disappear into the countryside like smoke. They lived by their own rules simply because there were no others they respected.

I let them come on until they were less than fifty feet away. Anything further back and our handguns would be useless. I didn’t know what kind of markswoman Isobel was, but the men were grouped close enough together on the narrow track to present a decent target for both of us if hell broke loose.

I said, ‘Now,’ and stepped out, kicking the door back on its hinges and settling my gun hand on the edge of the window frame. I aimed at the man in the centre because a flick either way would cover the other two.

They stopped, confused. Three surprised faces in a neat line as they saw the guns and realized they were out in the open with no easy way back. The man on the