Brute Force

103

The road was blocked by a JCB and a giant boulder that seemed to have fallen from its bucket.

I couldn't just head off-piste to avoid them. The road straddled a huge wadi with steep banks. The BMW was still about half a K away, but closing. No time to debate if this was a deliberate roadblock or a construction vehicle that had spilled its load.

I braked to a halt, simultaneously throwing the gearshift into reverse.

I accelerated back towards the BMW and kept the power on. Then I came off the power, transferred the weight to the back of the car, and threw the wheel hard right. The front of the car swung momentarily. Midway through, with the front wheels parallel to the road, I hammered the brake and clutch and wrenched the steering back the other way. As the car spun, I whipped the gearshift into first, came off the brake, applied some right foot and released the clutch. We'd done a complete 180 and were pointing back towards Tripoli. I put my foot down and accelerated hard.

The BMW driver was doing it the hard way, and was halfway through a three-point turn to get out of my way. I got a good view of him and his passenger as we closed. They were both wearing black leather jackets and definitely weren't locals. Then, while we were still about 100 metres apart, the passenger powered down his window and I caught a glimpse of an AK47.

I floored the accelerator and aimed straight at him. The Audi ploughed into his offside wing. The BMW slewed to the edge of the road, teetered for a second, and then toppled and rolled down into the wadi.

I jammed on the brakes and reversed until we were alongside.

Lynn screamed from the back seat as the AK reappeared through a shattered window.

The muzzle flashed.

Lynn threw open his door at the same time as I did, his .38 at the ready. I grabbed at Mansour as rounds started to puncture the bodywork. 'Out the fucking car!'

Automatic fire punctuated the frenzied shouts that echoed amongst the dunes.

Mansour twisted and tore away from my grip. There was another burst and he screamed once and dropped to the tarmac.

Lynn was to my right, static and firing at the muzzle flashes. He was calm and controlled, taking slow, deliberate shots. I ran further to the right to blindside them. Rounds zinged off the tarmac around my feet.

I jumped down into the wadi and ran towards the rear of the wrecked car. Shots were still being fired at Lynn.

I dropped to one knee, aimed the Makarov into the tangled metal and loosed off half a dozen rounds.

'Cease fire!'

The shout came from Lynn.

The silence was deafening.

I stared at the twisted metal. The BMW was lying on its left side. The driver was virtually decapitated. The passenger was crushed against the rock.

I moved forward a few paces to feel about for his AK amongst the mangled flesh and steel. What I saw stopped me in my tracks.