were static. The house was lit up like an historic monument. Girls were being wrapped in blankets and comforted. Soon they'd be drinking hot tea and getting medical attention.
I eased Dom's hand off my shoulder. 'Let's get you warm, eh? Not long now. We'll be out of here soon.'
I tried to zip him up some more but he was just too big. The top of the bag came up to his chest. I took off the Bergen and dug inside for the shemag. I wrapped it round his head, then packed away the Mini-Ero and mags. I'd need both hands to grip him now he was in the bag.
From down in the valley, a long line of flashing blue lights was making its way towards us. The cops would be over the moon. They could take the credit for busting yet another freelance torture chamber, and the dead men were all foreigners.
I pulled out the personal mobile and slipped it into the front pocket of my jeans before re-shouldering the Bergen. I gripped Dom in the nylon sleeping-bag and somehow got him back over my shoulder. 'Not far, mate. If they're not broken, your legs will be working by tonight, no drama.'
I started to pick my way downhill. The blue lights were nearly level with me now. Their headlights splashed across a couple of Turkish armoured trucks and their .50-cal gunners looked as though they'd shoot at anything that moved.
I pushed on for maybe another ten minutes, with the buildings and the road to my right, but I couldn't keep it up. Dom was just too fucking heavy.
I laid him on the ground again and sorted out the sleeping-bag. I held his head and leant in close again. 'Dom . . .' Fuck, I wasn't too sure who smelt worse. 'Dom, I'm going to check the road, OK? I'll be two minutes.'
I slid between two mud houses and made my way down towards Magreb's Hiace. It was locked. So were the two buses. The school was battened down. I needed to get into cover with Dom, and it wasn't just to keep him warm. The blue lights were still heading this way. In another couple of hours it would be light. Fuck the Yes Man, I'd deliver Dom when I was good and ready.
I moved back to the mud houses and sat under a corrugated lean-to with a pile of plastic bowls and a couple of old sacks. Below me, the Gandamack district was lit up again.
No curtains twitched in either house. Their inhabitants were either asleep or just wanted to get on with their lives and send their kids to school.
I powered up the mobile. It rang a couple of times, but I didn't hear where.
'Hello, mate, it's Nick. I'm going to need your van.'
78
'Mr Nick, I come to hotel now?'
'No need. I'm outside. I'm by the school.'
I could hear movement his end as he jumped out of bed and Mrs M gave him a hard time.
'You in the shooting, maybe?'
''Fraid so, mate. I just want your keys, OK? Can you meet me by the wagon? Keep the lights off in your house, OK?'
'I come now, Mr Nick.'
I closed down and went to the van.
A door opened just ahead and a skinny body in a pullover, trousers and flip-flops joined me. We ducked into cover as the flashing blue lights surged past, strobing the mud walls of the houses as they snaked up the hill.
His eyes widened. 'Mr Nick, your face – much blood . . .'
'Don't worry, mate. It's not mine.' I peeled off some notes. 'I just want your van. I'll pay you for it. I've got eight hundred dollars with me.' I grinned. 'You could buy three vans for that, maybe.'
He held up his hands. 'Please, Mr Nick, I no want your money. You already pay. I drive you hotel.'
I got down on one knee and fished in my sock. 'That's the problem, mate. I'm not going back. All that shooting up there . . . It was a prison. There were young girls being tortured and raped. My friend was a prisoner too. I came to get him out, and now I must find somewhere to hide him while he recovers. He's been badly hurt.'
I stood up and offered him the money.
'Let me pay for your van. My friend's behind the houses here. I don't want to involve you in this, mate.'
'No. I drive you. I drive you where you want. I you friend, Mr