Steve remained silent, his expression as implacable as a lump of granite.
‘What’s going to happen to us now?’ Ollie demanded.
‘We’re taking you back to Ibera,’ said Wallace, jabbing at Ollie with the barrel of his AK-47. ‘And this time, we’re going to make bloody sure we execute you.’
‘It will solidify the new regime of President Matola, with our friend Newton here as the man running the armed forces,’ said Archie. ‘And, of course, the whole of the country, and all its mineral wealth, will be a subsidiary of my fund.’
‘So get on the boat,’ barked Wallace.
Nobody moved.
‘I’ve already executed one of you bastards,’ he spat. ‘If I need to kill another of you, right here and now, then I will.’
Suddenly, Maksim grabbed hold of Sam. He yanked her head back hard and, in the same instant, whipped the Enfield from his belt, jabbing the cold barrel of the gun straight into the side of her head.
There was sweat pouring off him.
‘The bitch dies - right here, right now,’ he threatened.
Wallace had already raised his weapon and was pointing it straight at him. ‘Drop the fucking gun,’ he commanded.
‘The bitch dies,’ repeated Maksim. ‘We’re getting on the boat, and getting the fuck out of here, and if anyone tries to stop us - she gets it.’
Steve could hear something wild in his voice. A note he’d heard before, usually just before the Russian was about to shoot someone. He looked straight into Sam’s eyes, and he could see the panic welling up inside her. The Russian was crazy enough to kill his own mother when his blood was up. He’d snuff out Sam’s life the same way most men would crush an insect crawling across their skin.
‘Drop it, Maksie,’ Steve told him, trying to stay calm.
‘She’s fucking dying!’ shouted Maksim.
‘She’s on our side,’ Steve told him.
‘I don’t care what you think, man, they’re not taking us without a fight.’ He looked towards Archie. ‘Now, you - move. We’re going to climb on board, and we’re going to sail out of here, and if any of your men try to stop us, then your sister dies.’
Wallace nodded towards Yohane. Together with the other soldiers, he’d stepped forward five paces. Their rifles were raised, and they were standing in a neat semi-circle, like a firing squad.
‘Let her go,’ said Wallace coldly.
Maksim ignored him, looking straight at Archie. ‘I’m giving you one last warning, mudak,’ he spat. ‘Your sister dies in the next minute.’
‘We’ll drop you,’ warned Wallace.
‘No,’ started Archie.
Let them fight, thought Steve. That’s our opportunity.
‘He doesn’t have the balls,’ sneered Wallace.
From the corner of his eye, Steve could see the Toyota start to move. He glanced furtively towards it. Wallace hadn’t counted them out, he realised. Sloppy. Dan had remained hidden inside it all along, and now he was at the wheel, the driver pushed out, but in the standoff over Sam, no one had noticed. Its engine was inaudible through the swirling wind and rain.
And it was advancing towards the backs of Yohane and the two other men.
Steve gripped tight on his Enfield, and nodded to Ollie and Ian. There was an unspoken acknowledgement between them. This scrap is about to kick off. And once the bullets start flying, we’ll all just have to take our chances.
Archie was starting to walk towards Sam and Maksim. The latter was backing away, tugging hard on her hair, but she was too terrified to even scream. Wallace was shouting at Yohane to line up the shot. They are distracted, noted Steve. They can’t hear the car . . .
The Toyota slammed into the man’s back with a sickening thud.
There was a crunch of bone and metal. It was a big, powerful machine, but the man with whom it had just collided was built from steel just as much as the vehicle crashing into him. He shuddered, then creaked, the way a lamp-post might, and a single round was loosened off from his AK-47, the bullet flying harmlessly into the air. Dan was revving the engine furiously, swinging on the wheel at the same time. Yohane’s belt had caught on the bumper, and the Toyota was pushing him down into the mud. Two of his comrades had already leaped aside, turning their guns onto the vehicle, unleashing a murderous barrage of fire. The glass shattered, and smoke started to rise from the bonnet, as bullets peppered the engine. The wheels were spitting up mud, sending it flying straight into the faces of the men, making it impossible for them to direct their fire. In the next second, there was a piercing grunt, like a pig being slaughtered, as the damaged front of the Toyota collided hard with a man’s stomach.