The Key

102

The storm had lessened a little, but not by much, when the Ghost rode out from the compound at the head of his column of men. The dust still thickened the air and haloed the sliver of moon hanging low in the dirty night sky. Two armoured personnel carriers filled with security troops followed them out. Hyde was at the wheel of one of them with the giant frame of Dick filling the seat beside him. The combination of dust and darkness made it hard to see anything, but the Bedouin eyes of the Ghost and his men could see enough to ride by, and so they led the way. It had also been one of the Ghost’s outriders who had spotted the faint glow of a vehicle’s lights, moving stealthily across the desert to the south just before the dust cloud had swept over the land and obliterated everything.

Hyde was happy for the Ghost to be on point. If the interlopers were the hostiles they were looking for, he was hoping that there might be a bit of armed resistance and the freaky-eyed, gravel-voiced asshole might catch a stray bullet. It might even come from Hyde’s own M4: stranger things had happened in the heat of battle.

By the time they reached the mouth of the dry wadi the dust had thinned enough for the stars to reappear and the horizon to become visible to the north. The Ghost halted his caravan and rode up to Hyde’s vehicle.

‘You should let us go in alone,’ he said, his voice as dry as the desert air. ‘These trucks are loud enough to rouse the dead. They’ve probably heard us already and are busy loading rifles and lining up grenades.’

Hyde looked at the track leading to the wadi. It was too narrow for the trucks to travel down safely; they could easily get caught in an ambush with little room for manoeuvre. Even so, he wasn’t about to let the Ghost go off on his own where he couldn’t keep his eye on him.

‘I’ll ride with you,’ the blond giant said, opening his door and stepping from the truck.

The Ghost looked him up and down. ‘I don’t think anyone will want to lend you their horse. You’ll probably kill it just by sitting on it.’

Dick surveyed the ring of riders. ‘This one,’ he said, pointing to the sturdiest-looking mount.

The Ghost nodded at the rider, who reluctantly slipped from the saddle and handed over the reins.

‘Thank you,’ Dick said, hopping on to the back of the horse with surprising grace. ‘Whatever happens, the girl is to be spared. My instructions are clear.’

‘What about the man?’ the Ghost asked.

‘He can die, for all I care,’ Dick said, spurring his horse down into the mouth of the wadi. ‘The girl is the only thing that matters.’