The Mayan Codex

100

As soon as the Corpus made their sortie from the warehouse, Sabir crawled directly underneath Calque so that the Frenchman could rest his feet on his shoulders.

‘Christ Jesus! I couldn’t have held that position much longer. My shoulders were about to dislocate.’

‘Well you’re going to have to hold it again. I intend to go and get you that chair. Then we’re going to have to cut ourselves free. I have a funny feeling that any minute now this place is going to be riddled with incoming fire.’

‘You’re not going to leave me hanging here again, Sabir?’

‘I’ve got no choice if we want to get out of here. Now tense your muscles. Keep your arms in as close to your back as possible. If you loosen them your shoulders are going to pop out of their sockets like a stick puppet.’

‘ Oh putain!’

Sabir eased himself away from Calque. He needed to get up on his feet. He rocked onto his knees and then surged forwards, like a sprinter at the start of a race. At the third stride he missed his footing and fell headlong. He was unable to protect himself because his hands and arms were securely tied. At the very the last moment he twisted his head to the right, so that only his cheek and ear slammed into the concrete. It still felt as though he had been blindsided by a steam iron.

‘Get the chair, you damned fool. My arms are going.’

Sabir rolled over and over towards the chair. He shunted it hard, using both his legs like a scythe. The chair came to a stop just in front of Calque’s swinging body.

‘Quickly, damn you.’

Sabir rolled back the way he had come. He kicked the chair the last few feet.

Calque fished at it with one foot, and then pulled it towards him. He tottered for a moment, as if he was about to fall sideways, and then he somehow managed to regain his balance. ‘Oh God. Oh God. I think my right shoulder is out of its socket.’

Sabir rolled over onto his knees. This time around he gathered himself for a moment or two before trying to rise to his feet. He stood up, rocking in place like an emergent jack-in-the-box.

‘I can’t hold this position for very long.’ Calque was shouting in an effort to be heard over the gunfire.

The barrage from outside had redoubled in energy. Stray bullets began to thump into the warehouse. The ones that found their way in through the windows zipped and twanged through the warehouse’s interior space.

Sabir went in search of a knife. He tried the kitchen area first. A stray bullet smashed through the window in front of his head, showering him with glass.

He turned his back to the chest of drawers and began feeling around behind him. Third drawer down, he struck lucky. He got his hands on a serrated bread knife with a fair edge to it. He hurried over to Calque.

‘Here. Hold this between your knees.’

‘Cut me free, you imbecile.’

‘I can’t with my back to you. I can’t reach up that far. Do as I say.’

Calque scissored his knees together around the hasp of the knife.

‘Hold it tight now.’

‘What do you think I’m doing? I wish I’d pissed on your head while I had the chance.’

‘Watch your language or I’ll leave you hanging.’

‘Yes, you’d do that, Sabir. That would be just like you.’ There was an edge of raw humour in Calque’s voice.

Sabir worked his wrists against the bread knife. The knife popped out from between Calque’s knees and clattered to the floor.

‘I don’t believe this.’ Sabir dropped to his knees and felt around behind his back for the fallen knife.

‘I just felt a bullet tug at my shirt.’

‘Then hold the knife tighter. Imagine you’ve got diarrhoea and you’re trying to hold it in. If you tense your arse cheeks, your knees tense too.’

‘Very funny. I’ve got a dislocated shoulder, you bastard. You try and tense your arse cheeks with a dislocated shoulder.’

Sabir ignored him and replaced the knife between Calque’s knees. He began to saw away at his bonds for a second time. ‘I’ll shove this damned thing up your arse if you let it fall again. Do you hear me, Calque?’

‘I hear you. If we ever get out of this, Sabir, remind me never to turn my back on you.’

Both of the men began to laugh.

‘Damn!’

‘What is it, Sabir?’

‘I think I’ve jut been hit by a bullet.’

‘Where?’

‘I can’t tell. My middle, somewhere. It felt like someone just rabbit punched me.’

‘It was probably spent. Rabbits don’t punch that hard.’

‘Thanks. That’s very comforting.’ Sabir had his hands free now. His biceps were still bound, but he was able to bend one hand outwards, like a claw. ‘I need to stand on your chair. Otherwise I can’t reach you.’

‘No. I can’t take that again. I can’t take the weight on my arm.’

‘I’m going to do it anyway. It’s our only chance. I can feel something wet down the front of my pants. We may not have that long.’

‘You probably pissed yourself. Aaaahhhh!’

Sabir eased the chair out with his knee and positioned it behind Calque. He heaved himself up, balancing first on one leg, then on both. He twisted to one side and then stretched his forearm out to its full extent and began to cut.