The Trafficked

64

He walked out of the room and down the stairs, carrying Becky in his arms. The alert would have gone up by now, he needed to hurry. He passed the bemused receptionist who had taken a shine to him earlier. One look from Mann told her not to touch the phones. He strode straight to the front. He carried Becky up to the trike riders. He threw his full wallet at a driver, grabbed his keys from him and slid Becky in the sidecar whilst he took off in a swirl of sand. He looked across at Becky. She was stirring. She looked a mess. Her face was bloodied and swollen. He wished the trike had gears, its max speed was thirty and that was on a downhill. He looked behind him. He could see a saloon coming at speed, hurtling down the sandy lanes behind them. Mann looked into the mirror. He saw Fat Harry sitting in the front, English Bob in the back, but the driver wasn’t Stevie. No sign of him.

They were gaining. Mann would have to outwit them. The road was busy. Mann drove up on pavements, took out fruit stalls. The car hooted for people to move. The trike was smoking, screaming. The road was straightening out, the car gaining. Then Mann turned the corner and saw the runway. To the left was the tank for the aviation fuel, to the right was the small row of hangers, and Remy was at the end of the runway, making his last-minute checks outside the aircraft.

Mann saw him focus on the trike, his scowl changing to a smile when he recognised the driver; and then it changed to a look of alarm as he heard the volley of bullets coming from the car that had just screamed around the corner in pursuit.

Remy jumped inside and started the plane’s engine. It cranked into life, spluttered, coughed, and then the propeller started turning. A second later Remy appeared, standing on the door frame of the pilot’s side, pistol in hand. He fired at the car and blew out the tyre. It caused the car to veer slightly away and swerve. Mann reached the plane, threw Becky inside and took the gun from Remy as he jumped back in the pilot’s seat and began taxiing along the runway. Mann jumped into the plane as it was moving and fired out through the open passenger door. The car was within twenty metres. The plane’s ascent was slow. Remy’s hands were strong and steady on the yoke as he gave it full throttle. Still it didn’t lift from the runway. The car was pulling level with the tail of the aircraft. Mann steadied his shoulder against the door frame, aimed and fired. His shot shattered the car’s windscreen. It swerved away momentarily. They came again. Fat Harry had a gun levelled at Mann. Mann had a choice: kill the driver, or kill Harry. Take out the dragon head, and the body will die.

Harry was thrown backwards by the shot. He had been hit in the face. The car skidded, the driver lost control; it was veering towards the far side of the runway. Remy pulled hard back on the yoke and the plane began to lift off. Mann had one shot left. He stretched one arm across the doorway and used it to keep his other arm steady as he aimed his gun at the fuel tank and fired. Three seconds after the bullet left the nozzle the tank exploded in a ball of fire; the heat buffeted the small plane as it lifted off the ground. Mann yanked the door shut.

Remy shouted to him from the pilot seat. ‘Is she alright? Look behind. There’s a medical kit on the wall.’

Mann took the kit down from its strap. ‘Thanks Remy. You’re a handy man to have around.’ He began a search for antiseptic and pads.

‘We should go to Manila airport, it is bigger. They could be waiting for us at Clark. No?’

‘Manila is best, I agree, Remy. I just need to get her cleaned up before she comes round and…’

When he looked back at her, her eyes were open. She was staring at him. He felt his heart rush for a second as he looked at her. ‘Hello babe. You had a rough time but you’ll be okay, tough nut. Come here.’ He eased her towards him and she rested against his chest. ‘It’s all right. You’re going to be okay.’

He could see by her expression that she was trying to piece together what happened. She lay very still for a few minutes.

‘Mann? Johnny?’

‘Yes?’ He kissed the top of her head.

‘Are they dead?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thank you.’