‘We should go to Ibera,’ she said.
Steve grimaced. ‘There’s only one place I’m planning to go with a member of the Sharratt family, and that’s a funeral,’ he said. ‘And it’s not going to be mine.’
He could see the wounded look on her face as he finished the sentence, as if she’d just taken a punch, and he regretted saying it. Maybe she was on the level. Maybe she really had known nothing about what her brother was doing. And, if so, there was no point in taking it out on her.
But there’s nothing I can do about it now, he told himself impatiently. Maybe I can look her up one day.
Right now I’ve got six mates to save from the gallows.
‘Let’s get our kit, guys,’ he said, turning around to Nick and Ian, ‘and then let’s get the hell out of here.’
Samantha took a step forward, so that she was standing between the three men. ‘Where are you going?’
‘You think we’re going to tell you?’ Ian laughed harshly. ‘Just so you can tell your brother?’
Samantha ignored him, looking straight at Steve. ‘I can get you into Ibera so you can break your men out.’
‘So you can deliver us into the same jail, you mean,’ sneered Ian.
‘Leave it,’ Steve said. ‘If she’s got a plan, we should listen to it.’
‘Listen to her?’ the Irishman growled. ‘You must be crazy.’
‘I think she’s on the level.’
Ian took a couple of steps forward. He was standing right in front of Steve, so close he was practically headbutting the man. ‘Steve West and his piece of skirt, eh? We’re not falling for that one again. Now let’s get the hell out of here.’
‘Have you got a plan for getting us into Batota?’
‘I can come up with a better fecking plan than being led straight into a firing squad by a woman who’s working for the enemy!’
‘Then let’s hear it.’
Ian turned away, his expression furious. ‘I can’t seriously believe I’m listening to this. You’re thinking with your trousers again, mate. Try using your head for once.’
For a minute, all three men were silent.
‘If she’s got a plan, then I think we should at least listen to it,’ Nick said finally.
Thirty-Five
OLLIE GLANCED ANXIOUSLY AT MAKSIM. The Russian was prowling the perimeter of the cell like a caged tiger, his eyes wild with anger. He was breathing heavily, occasionally gripping the bars and shaking them violently, until dust and dirt was loosened from the bricks holding them in place.
‘Christ,’ Ollie muttered to David. ‘We can’t keep that bloke banged up in here too long. He’s going to do someone an injury soon.’
‘What happens if we sign?’ David asked.
‘They’ll kill us,’ said Ollie. ‘We sign, they’ll take us out and have us shot. We’re just being used as pawns in a political game.’
‘But we could still sign . . .’
‘I’m not signing anything,’ Ollie said immediately.
‘I don’t know about you,’ said David, ‘but sometimes you just reckon your number’s up, and the best thing is to crack on with it.’
‘We’ll be all right,’ Ollie told him.
David looked around despairingly. The cell was dark and crowded, they’d long since finished the foul food and stinking water, and the usual stomach-ripping smell was drifting from the bucket in the corner. ‘Sure looks that way,’ he said bitterly.
‘Steve, Ian and Nick got away,’ said Ollie. ‘They’ll do something.’
‘Three men against a whole country? I’m as optimistic as the next bloke, but I’ve got more chance of being invited to take a Jacuzzi with the entire crew of Girls Aloud than they have of getting us out of here.’
But Ollie was looking straight ahead. Two soldiers had just walked into the cell block, both of them carrying AK-47s held tight into their chests, and carrying sturdy wooden truncheons. They walked up to the door.
‘We want Oliver Hall and David Mallet to come with us,’ barked the first soldier.
Ollie could feel his heart thumping in his chest. He’d already reckoned there’d be some roughing up to get them to sign the confessions. But he hadn’t expected it to start this quickly.
‘That’s me,’ he said, stepping forwards. David was standing right behind him.
The soldier stuck a key into the door, unlocking it with a single, swift movement. He swung it open, grabbing hold of Ollie by the forearm. In the same moment, Maksim roared and lunged at the man. He sank his teeth straight into his arm, drawing blood that dripped across his face, making the man scream in pain. But the second soldier was quick, bringing his truncheon down hard onto the back of Maksim’s neck. The Russian was momentarily paralysed by the blow, the nerves in his spine seizing up, then he started to stagger away as wave after wave of pain rolled through him. The first soldier pulled himself upwards, then punched Maksim hard in the chest, throwing him to the ground. Then he dragged Ollie roughly from the cell.