“What do you mean, desert?”
Bash didn’t answer because he was too busy pulling out a length of guitar string and working it through the top of the driver’s side window. As far as Sean was concerned, it was magic, because somehow Bash got the door open and slid inside, and as Sean rounded the truck and got into the passenger seat, the engine roared to life.
Bash grinned. “Fasten your seatbelt, we’re going to haul ass.”
Sean did as instructed, and not a moment too soon. Bash put the truck in gear and hit the accelerator, and they shot out of the alley and down the narrow stone street.
Even driving in crowded, busy London hadn’t prepared Sean for the way Bash snaked the truck at breakneck speed through the buildings, seeming to barely miss clipping corners or ramming steps in their path. They were the only vehicle out at this hour of the morning, for which Sean was grateful until Bash spoke again.
“They’ll figure out where we are pretty easily, but I’m hoping we stole enough of a march on them to get us out of the city before they can mount a chase,” he said, twisting the wheel to skirt around a pile of baskets near a closed and empty bazaar. “Once we get out of town, we’ll find a cell phone and I’ll call in an extraction. My employer will send a helo and we’ll be out in half an hour, tops.”
Sean slanted a sideways glance at Bash, surprised things would be that easy. “Your employer can do that? So quickly?”
“My employer can do a lot of things,” Bash replied. “Getting me out of the palace wasn’t one of them, unfortunately, but that was easier than I thought it would be. Though I don’t envy the next guys held in that prison. Mansur is no idiot. He’ll improve security after this, and I doubt anyone will be able to escape again.”
“So that means we’d best not get caught, right? Because if we do, those next guys would be us.”
“Those next guys would beyou,” Bash corrected him. “No doubt I’ll eat a bullet for kidnapping you. But yes, let’s not get caught.”
“But it wasn’t kidnapping….” Sean fell silent as it occurred to him what Bash was saying. “Oh. That is another story for my protection, isn’t it? If so, it’s thinner than the last one.”
“So thin you could read the newspaper through it,” Bash agreed, and Sean saw him shrug. “It’s the best I can do, though. You’ll have to get creative on your own, since if you’re having to use it, chances are my farm will already be bought and paid for.”
The thought of Bash dying was incredibly disturbing, so Sean changed the subject. “You said we need to get out of town before you find a phone, but wouldn’t you have a better chance of finding one in town?”
“Of course. But I think stopping right now and robbing a house would be a bad idea.” Bash was quiet for a moment. “Though you could look in the glove box and see if there is anything useful in there. Sometimes people leave their cells in the cars.”
Sean did as Bash suggested, glad to have something to occupy his attention other than worrying Bash was going to drive them into a wall at 150 kilometers an hour. Unfortunately, the glove box yielded only some random papers and a screwdriver, and Sean gave a small growl of frustration.
“Nothing useful,” he said, and when Bash didn’t reply, he glanced over. There was a grim set to Bash’s jaw, and he’d clenched his hands on the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles had turned white. Alarmed, he sat back. “What is it?”
“Chopper, and not the one I wish I was hearing,” Bash replied. He glanced in the rearview mirror. “I think we’ve picked up a tail, too. Damn. Mansur is better than I thought. He must have had men on standby to scramble pursuit so quickly.”
Twisting in the seat, Sean looked out the back window and saw there were at least two pairs of headlights visible behind them. “Will they catch us?”
“I sure as hell hope not.” Bash cornered tightly around a mosque, and the road opened up into a plaza. “Ah, I know where I am now. I’m not as worried about the cars as I am about the chopper. I don’tthinkthey’ll fire on us or risk causing a crash with you in the vehicle, but I’m not betting either of our lives on it.”
“They stopped firing at you when you were going down the rope,” Sean pointed out. “I don’t know if it’s because of me, or because they think you might be CIA or something.”
Bash didn’t answer. Instead, he braked the truck so suddenly, Sean was thrown against the seatbelt, and then he slammed the vehicle into reverse so he could twist back around a corner. At first Sean had no idea what he was doing, but when he looked out the back window, he saw the street was covered with canopies, the closed stalls of a market lining either side. Bash backed the truck for several hundred feet under the covering, and when the street widened into open air again, he wheeled around and stomped on the accelerator. Ahead of them, the houses grew fewer and farther between as they neared the edge of the city.
“What direction is that?” Sean asked, frowning as he tried to get his bearings.
“Northwest.” Bash answered as he leaned forward, scanning the sky.
“That’s out into the desert!”
“Of course it’s out into the desert. It’s also the way to Turkey.” Bash glanced at him. “Do you have any other suggestions? East is Iran, South is Iraq, West is Syria, and we’d be in even more danger going to any of those places than staying here and waiting for your grandfather’s goons to catch us.”
“But it’s over two hundred kilometers of nothing out there!” Sean wondered if Bash had lost his mind. “What if we break down or run out of gas? What if they find us?”
“There’s danger in everything.” Bash grinned at him. “You wanted to come along, remember? I’d be going this way whether or not you were with me. Trust me. I do this for a living.”
“I didn’t realize you’re insane.”
Bash chuckled. “You aren’t the first one to say that. Now, look behind us. Do you see any headlights?”
Sean watched the rapidly retreating lights of Nineveh. “I don’t think so.”
