Read Online The Sword of Moses by Dominic Selwood - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dominic Selwood
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her arm firmly, nodding towards the far side of the fountain.
Now visible through the shimmering silvery spray, she could see a red Mercedes with a white stripe on its bonnet swinging around towards them through the traffic.
She looked over to where DeVere was parked on the other side of the fountain.
Good. He was watching.
She had spent years of her life growing up in Africa avoiding putting herself or anyone else in unnecessary danger from warlords and militiamen. It was not a habit she was keen to break now, and she was reassured to know there was backup.
As the Mercedes drew closer, she could feel her breath quickening.
The men in the Mercedes spotted her, and she subtly glanced towards DeVere again to make sure he had seen them.
Bad timing.
A double-length articulated blue passenger bus was snaking around the fountain—completely blocking DeVere’s view of the rendezvous.
Her heart began to beat faster.
The bus appeared to be stationary as the Mercedes’s doors opened, and four men got out. They were wearing thick outer clothing and heavy woollen hats.
Ava looked again in DeVere’s direction.
His view was still blocked.
She breathed deeply.
She could see Prince over by the kiosk, furiously punching numbers into her mobile phone.
Ferguson had also spotted the problem. He glanced across at Ava.
“We continue,” she confirmed, anticipating his question. The blue bus would clear the roundabout in a moment.
Ferguson signaled to the approaching militiamen. They covered the ground rapidly, closing in on her and Ferguson. As they did so, the Mercedes pulled away and rejoined the traffic.
Ava felt a rough spike of adrenaline course through her.
What was happening?
This was not the plan.
She looked across at Prince, who was speaking hurriedly into the microphone on her phone’s hands-free cord.
As Ava glanced across at the Mercedes, she saw it exit the roundabout and drive off into the night.
On the pavement, the militiamen were now no more than three yards away.
Her senses were all firing as she looked back to where DeVere was parked.
This was not good.
DeVere had pulled out, and was now swinging around the roundabout, following the Mercedes.
She took a deep breath. DeVere had obviously assumed she and Ferguson were in the Mercedes. But by now Prince must have explained to him what had happened, so he would just go around the roundabout and return to where he had previously been parked up.
But she had no time to think about it any further. The four militiamen had moved around her and Ferguson, surrounding them. They had their hands deep in their coat pockets, and from the telltale bulges, it was clear they were holding concealed handguns.
The plan had evidently changed.
“Walk,” one of them ordered gruffly in a thick Congolese accent. “Quickly.”
The group moved off, with Ava and Ferguson being steered by the armed men behind them.
Ava scanned the road ahead for the replacement vehicle they were switching to. It seemed logical. The militiamen were being methodical, cleaning off any unwanted tails. In the old days, she would probably have done the same. Still, it was good to know that Prince, and by now hopefully DeVere, were close by and would simply follow the new vehicle.
As they headed away from the roundabout, Ava could periodically feel the padded barrel of a handgun jabbing into her lower back. Around her on the pavement, pedestrians and evening revellers walked past, oblivious.
With mounting concern, Ava realized she could not see any vehicles with open doors. She strained to look about in all directions, but could identify no one obviously waiting for them.
What were they doing?
Before she had time to think, the man behind her spoke again. “In here,” He indicated an open steel door, behind which Ava could hear the deep thump of heavy pulsating music.
It looked like some sort of nightclub.
As the men pushed her though the metal-reinforced entranceway, she felt a blast
Now visible through the shimmering silvery spray, she could see a red Mercedes with a white stripe on its bonnet swinging around towards them through the traffic.
She looked over to where DeVere was parked on the other side of the fountain.
Good. He was watching.
She had spent years of her life growing up in Africa avoiding putting herself or anyone else in unnecessary danger from warlords and militiamen. It was not a habit she was keen to break now, and she was reassured to know there was backup.
As the Mercedes drew closer, she could feel her breath quickening.
The men in the Mercedes spotted her, and she subtly glanced towards DeVere again to make sure he had seen them.
Bad timing.
A double-length articulated blue passenger bus was snaking around the fountain—completely blocking DeVere’s view of the rendezvous.
Her heart began to beat faster.
The bus appeared to be stationary as the Mercedes’s doors opened, and four men got out. They were wearing thick outer clothing and heavy woollen hats.
Ava looked again in DeVere’s direction.
His view was still blocked.
She breathed deeply.
She could see Prince over by the kiosk, furiously punching numbers into her mobile phone.
Ferguson had also spotted the problem. He glanced across at Ava.
“We continue,” she confirmed, anticipating his question. The blue bus would clear the roundabout in a moment.
Ferguson signaled to the approaching militiamen. They covered the ground rapidly, closing in on her and Ferguson. As they did so, the Mercedes pulled away and rejoined the traffic.
Ava felt a rough spike of adrenaline course through her.
What was happening?
This was not the plan.
She looked across at Prince, who was speaking hurriedly into the microphone on her phone’s hands-free cord.
As Ava glanced across at the Mercedes, she saw it exit the roundabout and drive off into the night.
On the pavement, the militiamen were now no more than three yards away.
Her senses were all firing as she looked back to where DeVere was parked.
This was not good.
DeVere had pulled out, and was now swinging around the roundabout, following the Mercedes.
She took a deep breath. DeVere had obviously assumed she and Ferguson were in the Mercedes. But by now Prince must have explained to him what had happened, so he would just go around the roundabout and return to where he had previously been parked up.
But she had no time to think about it any further. The four militiamen had moved around her and Ferguson, surrounding them. They had their hands deep in their coat pockets, and from the telltale bulges, it was clear they were holding concealed handguns.
The plan had evidently changed.
“Walk,” one of them ordered gruffly in a thick Congolese accent. “Quickly.”
The group moved off, with Ava and Ferguson being steered by the armed men behind them.
Ava scanned the road ahead for the replacement vehicle they were switching to. It seemed logical. The militiamen were being methodical, cleaning off any unwanted tails. In the old days, she would probably have done the same. Still, it was good to know that Prince, and by now hopefully DeVere, were close by and would simply follow the new vehicle.
As they headed away from the roundabout, Ava could periodically feel the padded barrel of a handgun jabbing into her lower back. Around her on the pavement, pedestrians and evening revellers walked past, oblivious.
With mounting concern, Ava realized she could not see any vehicles with open doors. She strained to look about in all directions, but could identify no one obviously waiting for them.
What were they doing?
Before she had time to think, the man behind her spoke again. “In here,” He indicated an open steel door, behind which Ava could hear the deep thump of heavy pulsating music.
It looked like some sort of nightclub.
As the men pushed her though the metal-reinforced entranceway, she felt a blast
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