No Man's Land - A Russell Carter Thriller (24 page)

9

As Carter came to, he heard loud moaning coming from the floor to his left. He had no idea how long he’d been out. His head felt like it was ready to split in two. He forced his eyes open and turned toward the sound, ignoring the pulsating pain.

The clan member who had struck him with the butt of his SIG lay on his stomach squirming. He’d been hit in the right shoulder and left thigh by low-caliber bullets. His weapon had skidded ten feet in front of him.

His mate lay facedown to Carter’s right, the Uzi near his head. He’d been hit in the right buttock and just below the shoulder.

They were down for the count, but not yet out.

Kemala needed to finish the job.

The final, deliberate shot – the one you took to kill a defenseless and wounded opponent – was by far the toughest, even for a trained assassin.

But in a situation like this, it had to be done.

Kemala stood paralyzed in front of the open door, holding the Beretta by her side, staring at the wounded men.

“Shoot them,” Carter said, struggling to get the words out clearly.

She didn’t seem to hear him. It felt like he was speaking underwater. The guy to his right started pushing himself onto his hands and knees.

Kemala didn’t react.

The clansman to his left began sliding in slow motion toward the SIG, leaving a trail of blood.

“For God’s sake, Kemala,
shoot
!” Erina said. “Then find the keys to these locks.”

The woman just stood frozen to the spot, in shock, unable to take anything in.

Carter worked some saliva into his mouth and was about to speak when a gravelly whisper came from where Thomas lay.

“Kemala. You must finish this.”

She turned toward Thomas slowly.

The clansman was within a few feet of the SIG, reaching out toward it.

“Trust God and be strong,” Thomas said. “For all of us.”

Still she hesitated.

“Look what they did to Muklas. Do it for him.”

She glanced at Muklas’s body. Her focus hardened and she turned back toward the man reaching for the SIG.

He had just gripped the weapon’s stock.

She raised the shaking Beretta with two hands in front of her and pulled the trigger.

His body stopped moving.

She swung the weapon in a ninety-degree arc toward the other man, who was on his hands and knees, about to grab the Uzi. She pointed the Beretta at the back of his head and squeezed the trigger.

Another round spat out.

The man’s body jerked as the bullet struck him between the shoulders. He collapsed and lay still.

Thomas spoke in a barely audible whisper. “Good. Now the keys. Free Carter and Erina first.”

The Beretta dropped to the floor with a thud. Kemala stared at the bodies as if she couldn’t believe what she’d done.

“It’s all right,” Thomas whispered. “You did what you needed to do. Ask God for forgiveness later. Now you need his courage.”

She bowed her head and mumbled what looked like a prayer. Then she took a few shaky steps forward and started fumbling through the pockets of the guy who’d been wielding the SIG.

Carter heard the jangle of metal. Kemala stood and then came to his side. Her hands were still trembling as she unlocked the manacles around his throat, arms, waist and legs. He sat up slowly.

She ripped a section of cloth from the bottom of her dress and wrapped it around the wounds on his head before moving off toward Erina.

His whole body was numb, and his head continued to throb.

To his right Kemala hunched over Erina, who said, “Thank you. I know that wasn’t easy.”

He placed his feet on the ground and tried to stand. Pins and needles shot through his legs, forcing him to sit back down.

He worked his feet and ankles back and forth, flexing and relaxing the muscles to get the blood flowing. He glanced back toward Erina.

She tried to stand too, but couldn’t.

“Let me help you,” Kemala said.

She put an arm around Erina’s shoulders and supported her as they both shuffled toward Thomas.

Kemala unlocked his manacles, squeezed his hand and then moved toward the unconscious Wayan.

Carter managed to stay on his feet on the second attempt and walked over to join Kemala. He leaned over Wayan and stroked his forehead.

There was nothing else he could do.

When Kemala had freed him, Carter lifted the boy up and gently placed him over his left shoulder, careful to exert minimum pressure on his chest and stomach, suspecting he had suffered internal injuries.

After balancing Wayan’s weight evenly, he moved to the center of the room, knelt down and picked up the Uzi lying next to the fallen clan member. The stock was slippery with blood.

“Come on,” he said. “We need to move.”

Thomas was now on his feet. Kemala and Erina stood on either side of him, supporting him under his armpits, taking most of his weight. Erina held the SIG in her left hand.

Erina leaned in to her father and said, “We’re so sorry.”

Her father’s voice was still faint. “There’s nothing for either of you to be sorry about.”

With Erina and Kemala beside him, he started moving toward the door.

Carter followed, glancing at Muklas. He hated leaving his body behind, but they had no choice.

10

The gathering gloom of dusk approached. The entrance to the tunnel that led to the bunker was set three-quarters of the way down a steep and rocky cliff, a hundred yards to the east of the compound.

The Japanese had chosen the entrance to the tunnel strategically. A rock ledge hid it from anyone looking down from above, and from the ocean below it would be invisible.

Carter sat just inside the entrance, where he could still see and hear what was going on outside. The air was calm, and gentle waves lapped against the rocks fifty feet below.

Behind him Kemala and Erina tended to Thomas and Wayan. Djoran had stocked the bunker with food, water, basic medical supplies and a small gas burner, along with an inflatable dinghy, two oars and a small outboard motor.

For over an hour Carter had watched out for any clan activity.

Foot patrols had passed above him, but none had ventured down the cliff. Twice, the helicopter had buzzed overhead, causing him to move deeper inside the tunnel. And roughly every twenty minutes a fishing boat powered by an outboard motor cruised past. The next one was due in approximately ten minutes.

From above, in the creeping darkness, two Indonesian voices drifted down through the still dusk air.

Another patrol.

His right hand reached for the Uzi. He switched the safety off and cradled it in his lap.

Thirty seconds later the voices trailed off and he laid the weapon at his side.

This was the third patrol he’d heard, yet none had come exploring in the direction of the tunnel, which meant the mujaheddin must have remained ignorant of the bunker’s existence.

As full darkness approached, the chances of anyone venturing down such rugged, steep terrain grew more remote, but it was still a possibility. In the morning they’d be far more exposed and vulnerable, and the clan’s search would become more desperate and detailed.

Carter was loath to move Thomas and Wayan until their condition stabilized, but staying where they were any longer than necessary was out of the question. They needed to get off the island that night. He had the rubber dinghy prepped and ready to go. They needed to get moving shortly after complete darkness fell.

He sensed someone coming toward him from behind and Erina’s voice echoed in the tunnel. “Dinner is served.”

“I didn’t know you cooked.”

She sat down next to him and handed him a plastic mug of steaming tea and two energy bars. “I’m glad I can still surprise you.”

He placed the tea beside him, unwrapped a fruit and nut bar and took a large bite. He’d forgotten how hungry he was.

“How are they doing?” he asked.

“Thomas is in great pain,” she said, “but he’s eating and drinking. You know how strong and stubborn he can be – he’ll recover.”

“And Wayan?”

“Still unconscious. His breathing is shallow and his heart rate is very weak. Moving him again will be extremely dangerous.”

Carter sat motionless, weighing up their options. They didn’t have any. They needed to get off the island as soon as possible. It’d only be a matter of time before the clansmen found them. It was one of those decisions he loathed having to make, but it had to be done.

“We need to get Thomas and Wayan comfortably settled in the dinghy as soon as it gets fully dark and we’ll head off when there’s a break in the patrols.”

Erina hesitated before answering and stood up. “I’ll tell the others.”

Carter took a sip of hot tea and stared out over the darkening ocean.

11

At 9.20 p.m., Carter stopped rowing the heavily laden rubber dinghy and pulled in the fiberglass oars. They’d been travelling at roughly six knots for over an hour and a half – luckily, the outgoing tide was with them and had made the job easier.

Kemala sat at the bow, facing the stern. Erina was in the aft seat near the outboard engine and Carter was in the middle. Thomas and Wayan lay on their backs on the deck inside the gunnels on either side of the boat. Thomas’s head faced the bow and Kemala. They had positioned the still unconscious Wayan with his head toward the aft section.

Carter glanced over his shoulder. The island and Samudra’s compound were nothing more than a dull glow about five miles behind them. The time had come to assess their position and consider starting the outboard engine.

The boat was laden with weapons and supplies, and they had pushed off from the rocky shore at 7.45 p.m. The plan was to reach the surf camp known as Legends, situated on a small island a hundred miles west of Sumatra, early next morning. Carter had set a course on the GPS device Djoran had provided and expected to be there in six to eight hours.

The camp had a full-time doctor and a light plane that made regular trips to Bali. Carter knew the owner, a former pro-surfer, well. He’d arrange for Carter and Erina to fly to Bali the same day they arrived or the following day. They’d then head to Sydney from Denpasar Airport on either 29 or 30 December, depending on what obstacles they encountered in the meantime.

Hopefully by the time they touched down in Australia, Djoran would’ve discovered Samudra’s plans for the terrorist attack. Putting himself into Samudra’s head and taking into account the fact that the mujaheddin were heading for Sydney the next day, 29 December, it seemed highly probable that New Year’s Eve was the likely date of the clan’s planned attack.

But there was no point speculating about that now. First they had to get Thomas and Wayan to the surf camp.

Though Thomas had spoken only a few words, he remained conscious and seemed to be aware of everything going on around him. In contrast Wayan hadn’t moved or uttered a word. They all knew deep down that it was only a matter of time for him. He needed urgent medical attention. There was little chance he’d survive the journey.

Carter kept reminding himself that they hadn’t had a choice. Staying on the island wasn’t an option. But that fact didn’t make him feel any better about the decision he’d made.

He reached down and touched Wayan’s forehead.

It was cold. There was no need to check his pulse.

Carter’s head dropped. A numbness rose through his stomach and chest before settling in his heart.

He felt Erina’s warm hand touch the back of his shoulder.

He ran his fingers down Wayan’s cold cheek, triggering a deep-seated regret that he’d acted so selfishly over the last year by leaving and putting his own wellbeing above that of the order.

Maybe Erina had been right. If he hadn’t left when he did, maybe all of this could’ve been prevented.

Erina climbed forward and sat to his left. “This is not on you,” she said.

“Sure feels like it.”

“No matter what I’ve said in the past, the truth is you’ve always done what you thought was right at the time. That’s all anyone can do and I respect you for that.”

She put her arm around his shoulder, pulled him close and hugged him in silence for a few moments.

“Thank you,” he said, kissing her on the forehead before releasing himself from her embrace.

“You take a break,” Erina said. “I’ll sort out the engine and get us on our way.”

Carter moved forward and knelt beside Thomas. He looked at Kemala, who was holding Thomas’s hand in her own and wiping away a tear with the other.

After a few moments Thomas turned his head toward Carter and whispered, “I know what has happened. It was inevitable. You did the right thing. We couldn’t stay on the island.”

The boat rose and fell with the swell.

A gentle breeze brushed over them.

Carter stared across the ocean toward the dark horizon. The clouds blocked out the moon and stars as if the gods themselves mourned Wayan’s passing.

“Whatever happens,” Thomas said, “know that I am proud of you.”

Thomas started to cough. Kemala knelt beside him, lifted his head and held a canteen of water to his lips. He took a small sip.

“There’s nothing further I can do in this fight,” Thomas said. “It is up to you and Erina to stop Samudra and his clan. Leave Kemala and I at the surf camp. You need to get to Sydney as soon as possible. You will know what to do as soon as you hear from Djoran. He is very capable.”

He took a few shallow breaths. “Don’t make the same mistake I did and underestimate Samudra … he and Alex are a dangerous combination.”

“Understood.”

The effort of speaking caused Thomas to struggle for breath. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Carter,” he whispered.

Carter wanted to tell Thomas how much he loved him too, but he couldn’t get the words out.

Thomas touched his hand. “Wayan, Muklas, Jacko – make sure their deaths count for something. I know you and Erina can do this. My heart and thoughts will always be with you.”

Carter bowed his head, surrendered to his emotion, and for the first time since his mother’s death, allowed the warm tears to flow down his cheeks.

Behind him he heard the outboard engine start up.