Going Grey Read Free Page B

watching Sam. If Sam was following the drill, he'd be behind the ACMAT's door with the Mk48 just out of sight.
    The Nazani manning the north-facing gun was still looking up at the sky. Fine – he'd lose a second if he swung around, but Rob was more worried about what was making him jumpy. Jumpy wasn't good when you were negotiating. He hoped it was just the sound of Humvees in the distance. Maybe realising that Rob had backup would make them keener to take the money and go, though. It was hard to tell.
    "Okay, here you go, mate." Rob couldn't count out the dollars without taking both hands off his weapon, so he held out the roll to Tariq, clocking as much in his peripheral vision as he could without looking away from the south-facing gun. Tariq was conveniently lined up with the gunner. That would give Rob another second's edge if he needed it. "All yours when you let the civvies go."
    The guy on the north-facing gun said something to his mate on the ground and pointed down the road. They had their backs to Rob now, murmuring in increasingly urgent tones. Tariq didn't even look around. He just beckoned, confident that someone was waiting to do his bidding. One of his minions herded the two women aid workers out of the group and gestured to them to go. As they made their way towards the ACMAT, they gave Rob a nervous glance.
    Tariq counted the notes, head down. Rob could see him glancing to the side, a bit edgy, so maybe he wasn't as cocky as he'd seemed. Rob concentrated on not spooking him. He just wants cash. If he'd wanted hostages, we wouldn't be here now. Then his radio earpiece clicked and he heard one of the Kenyan Humvee drivers.
    "We're covering the road and the hill — up to twenty contacts in the tree line to your right. We'll deal with them, out ."
    It was always much more complicated when civvies were involved. Dead civvies caught in crossfire made bad headlines.
    Hurry up, for Chrissakes, Tariq.
    Tariq finally seemed satisfied and stuck the money in his back pocket. But all his bagman did was separate the two NGO guys from the American to send them across to Sam. So things weren't going to go so smoothly after all, then. Rob bought time fumbling for the wad of shilling notes and caught the American's eye. They both knew the score.
    Rob had come to retrieve five people, and five he'd bloody well have. He knew these bastards. Whatever the country and whatever they called themselves, the Yank would end up sold on to some other bunch of scumbags, handcuffed to a radiator in a shitty basement for the next few years. Nobody sent in a SEAL team to rescue contractors, not even American ones.
    "Okay, Tariq, how about him, then? Is he extra?" Rob looked past him at the American. "What's your name, mate?"
    "Mike," he said. Mike held himself like he'd spent time in uniform. Rob knew instinctively that he'd get on with him just fine. "Mike Brayne."
    "Okay, Mike, let's see what you're worth." Rob held up the wad of shillings to get Tariq's attention. If that wasn't enough, he had about fifty quid in sterling. It all hung on whether Tariq stood to make more from selling Mike on, though, and then things could get awkward. "You've cleaned me out, Tariq."
    Tariq held his hand out to take the banknotes. "And I like your watch."
    Rob felt the tide turn. He breathed again. The watch looked very TAG-Heuerish but it had only cost him a tenner, just a cheapo he took on deployment for times like this. This was probably a pissing contest to make Tariq look more butch in front of his mates anyway.
    Rob played the haggling game, feigning reluctance for a moment. "He's a very expensive Septic."
    " Septic. Ha." Tariq nodded. Honour had been satisfied. "Funny. I understand."
    Rob was unfastening the strap when one of the gunners yelled something and Tariq looked around. They'd heard the Humvees coming, but maybe they'd decided the vehicles were getting too close. One lad got excited and began gesturing. Then all three swung their RPKs