The Spear of Destiny (27 page)

  “Can you see that six wheeler lorry over there being loaded?”

  “Yes of course I can.”

  “Can you see what it says on the driver’s door?”

  “I can see it. I can’t read what it says. It’s too far away. I’d need my glasses for that.”

  “But you can see.”

  “Yes. I can see as far as the horizon allows. I just need glasses for reading.”

  “That’s good enough.”

Dennis put the spectacles in the older man’s shirt pocket. Then he reached up and ruffled the older man’s hair. Hutchinson took a step back.

  “Pete!” he said reaching a hand up to smooth his hair over again. Dennis grabbed the hand to stop him.

  “Don’t! Trust me! You look better like that. More rugged.”

Hutchinson looked to Natalie for approval. She nodded.

  “I like the look Jim.”

  “Really?” he asked, convinced he looked like a senior citizen yob.

  “Really,” she affirmed.

Dennis took a step back and looked Hutchinson’s attire up and down.

  “Khalil. Have you got any cargo style trousers and possibly a denim style shirt? Oh and two keffiyehs. I’d better wear one too.”

  Fifteen minutes later and Hutchinson was looking more like a private contractor. His clothes were now casual, more military like.

  “Hold the gun across your chest like this. Gun muzzle pointing down. Finger on the trigger. That’s it just there. Hold that pose.”

  “That’s quite a transformation,” Natalie said, “Wow. You do actually look the part.”

  “Yeah you do,” Dennis agreed. “Just try to look tough all the time.”

Hutchinson took a stance which made Natalie laugh.

  “No don’t raise your eyebrows,” she chuckled, “Try to look serious. That’s it. You’ve got it.”

  “I must admit,” Hutchinson said, “I do now feel that I can pull this off.”

  “Good,” Dennis said, “Just a bit of confidence is all that is needed. Now we just need to see if you can shoot. Khalil! A few practice rounds.”

  The big man nodded. He took a handful of extra ammunition clips and once again led the way.

  “I must say,” Hutchinson said as he and Natalie walked alongside Dennis, “That you have a really good knowledge of guns. Are you also a good shot?”

  “I have a small confession to make.”

  ‘What is he going to come out with now’ Natalie was thinking.

  “You know when I told you and the metropolitan police that I did some training with the SAS,” he looked at them both for confirmation, “I lied. I learned to shoot with these guys.”

  “What?” Hutchinson said, “You mean you were one of them. A terrorist.”

  “Will you stop using that word around here,” Dennis said glancing nervously about, “They prefer the term ‘freedom fighter.”

  “Freedom fighter. Terrorist. Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “That depends on which side you’re on.”

Natalie was genuinely interested.

  “What did you do?” she asked.

  “I went out with them on a few nights. Only as an observer though. I want you to know and understand that. I didn’t have any weapons nor did I engage in anything other than report their story. We didn’t use cameras. I was only permitted to use a Dictaphone.”

  “Did you take Kim whatshername with you?”

  “No. It was too dangerous for her. Just me and my cameraman Greg. We went out onto the beach here at Rafah. I should explain that the entire beach area here though used by Palestinians for leisure is also a no go area. Israel has a blockade on the entire coast. Khalil’s group took me out on more than one occasion and they set booby traps on the beaches for any unsuspecting Israeli marines that come ashore. On some nights if they weren’t triggered we would go out and reset them elsewhere.”

  Hutchinson was horrified.

  “Did they kill anyone?”

  “Not in the time I was there. I went out with them every night for a week.”

  “Doesn’t that make you a terrorist as well?” Hutchinson asked.

  “In the eyes of Israel maybe, or maybe our own governments, but at the end of the day I’m a journalist and I will do what is needed to get my story out.”

  “I suppose so,” the American said.

Natalie just smiled at Dennis. She had gotten to understand with him that the story always came fist. No matter the risks.

  “Come on,” Dennis said, “Let’s see if either of you can shoot a gun.”

Khalil Al Massri led them to an area away from the main road where there were sand bags piled higher than a man. Here, driven into the ground were wooden posts on top of which were targets. Some were roughly drawn outlines of people. Others just circles painted with a bullseye. Dennis was up first and he took aim with his AR-15 and splattered the body of a drawn target with a clip of bullets. He then let his machine gun drop to his chest, held by the straps, and pulled out the Sig-pro handgun from his thigh holster and holding it with both hands he emptied a clip into the target’s head.

  Al Massri watched on, a little impressed.

  “I see you have forgotten nothing,” he said as Dennis holstered the handgun.

  “It’s just like riding a bike.”

  “You,” Al Massri gestured at Hutchinson.

The American stepped up to where Dennis had stood. He raised the AR-15 to shoulder height, sighted down it and fired. He wasn’t prepared for the powerful kick it produced and it caused him to miss the target. Small puffs of sand erupted from the sand bags. Hutchinson stopped firing. Al Massri moved to him and put a hand on the gun.

  “Hold it here like this. Tighter. That’s it. In closer to your shoulder. That’s better. Now sight down the barrel, line up with the sight at the tip. Now fire.”

  The first bullet hit the target in the shoulder.

  “Aim a bit lower, to the left. That’s it. Fire.”

Hutchinson hit the target in the chest.

  “Good,” Al Massri said, “That would kill your opponent. Try again.”

This time Hutchinson hit the target easily. He emptied the clip into the chest. Then when the bullets ran out he turned to his companions with a big, beaming grin.

  “Your sidearm,” Dennis said.

  “Oh yeah right.”

Hutchinson reached down for the Sig-pro, brought it up and in his haste shot the target in the throat.

  “Ouch,” Dennis said, “That would do the trick.”

Hutchinson aimed higher with both hands and emptied the gun into the targets face.

  “Nasty,” Dennis said, a little impressed.

  “You,” Al Massri said to Natalie.

Natalie stomped up to where the other two had stood, leaned her AK-47 over at an angle, flicked the safety switch to semi-automatic fire, levelled the gun at waist height and fired single shots at the target. Every bullet found its mark. Then she flicked the safety to auto, raised the gun to shoulder height and emptied the rest of the clip into the wooden target. She then lowered the gun again and turned to Dennis who was watching her open mouthed.

  “Any good?” she asked.

Dennis got up and approached the target, still open mouthed. He examined the bullet holes she’d made then turned to look at her.

  “Where the hell did you learn to shoot like that?”

  “Believe it or not I do listen to what you say.”

  “Yeah but even so,” Dennis looked back at the target.

Then Natalie laughed. Then he laughed. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close.

  “Seriously baby. Watching you fire that gun was fucking hot!”

He was about to snog her when he remembered that Al Massri and his men were present and that such an outward show of affection in public would not be appreciated. Then he was letting go of her and they all spun around and everyone was looking up into the sky as a Hercules transporter plane roared past very low. On its wings were red crosses but there was no mistaking the death’s head skull on the tail. The plane was descending and obviously heading for the ruined airport.

  “Hey Pete I thought you said nothing was allowed in or out. That nothing could land,” Hutchinson said.

  “That’s right. Nothing can.”

  “Well someone, somewhere, has obviously got clearance.”

Dennis watched as the plane banked and then dropped more height and disappeared behind buildings and tarpaulins. Then Dennis was running for the Land Rover.   “Come on!” he shouted at Natalie and Hutchinson, “Let’s go.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN  

Dennis opened the driver’s door of the Land Rover and jumped in. He thrust the key into the ignition, started the engine, slammed the door shut, selected first gear, released the parking brake and swung the vehicle round in a wide arc. Stones and dust were kicked up from the tyres. Dennis roared up to where Natalie and Hutchinson were. He jumped out and grabbed the equipment Al Massri was carrying. He shook the big man’s hand.

  “Thank you.”

Al Massri nodded at his men to load the Land Rover with everything they’d bought.

  “Military vests, two hundred rounds each, handguns, spare bullets, trackers, three automatic assault rifles.”

  “Where are you going?” Al Massri asked Dennis.

  “The people in that plane are searching for something that is very dear to us. We would very much like to get to it first.”

  “Is that the reason for the guns?”  

  “Yes. They have tried to kill us on more than one occasion.”

  “Where are you headed?”

  “We think Galiliee.”

  “Are you going to enter Israel?”

  “We have to. There is no other choice.”

Al Massri moved away from the Land Rover.

  “I wish you luck.”

  “Thank you. Ma Salama. Goodbye.”

  “Ma Salama.”

  “Better keep the weapons out of sight,” Dennis said to his companions. He engaged first gear and the defender roared away.

  “We didn’t get any extra food,” Hutchinson shouted above the noise.

  “We should have some left,” Dennis shouted back.

Natalie leaned over the back seat and rummaged through the items they’d brought in from Egypt.

  “We’ve still got some cheese, chocolate, water, some biscuits. That bread we bought is going hard though.”

  “It’ll be enough. Might just need it for a night. If all goes well we’ll be in Israel tonight or tomorrow.”

  “And where are we going now?”

  “Look that plane should not have landed here. Nothing can and if Israeli forces didn’t shoot it down then it must have permission to land. And if that’s the case I want to know why and what they’re doing here.”

  “And we’re going to just drive straight in there are we?”

  “No. I’m going to see if I can get a tracker on that plane.”

  “That is precisely what I was worried you were going to say.”

Natalie, Dennis and Hutchinson watched the activity around the Hercules from a distant vantage point. Behind them was Rafah. It was getting dark and Dennis glanced at his watch again. Natalie was starting to shiver at the cool evening air.

  Dennis was laying on his front while peering through a pair of binoculars. He had watched as netted pallets of cargo had been unloaded and reloaded into the large belly of the transporter by a fork lift truck. There were currently pallets and crates scattered nearby as the fork lift driver sorted them.

  The Hercules was stopped on the smooth desert terrain where cones marked a landing strip. The badly damaged runways had long since gone, ripped up many years before by civilians who, after the airport was destroyed in 2001 by Israel, had used the tarmac and foundations for building materials elsewhere in Rafah.

  The three had been watching the activity for some hours now. The only visitor had been a large black Mercedes saloon flying Palestinian flags from its front wings. Men in suits with short stubby machine guns had got out of the car along with another man in a suit who had appeared to be unarmed. Then as Dennis had watched, the stunning redhead he had seen on the ocean breeze and the unmistakeable figure of Von Werner had descended from the open ramp at the back of the Hercules. The redhead moved to stand by him.

  Dennis watched as they’d conversed for several minutes and then Von Werner surrounded by his armed men had handed over a large briefcase, clearly payment for something.

  The two men had shaken hands. Then the man from the Mercedes shook the hand of the redhead, turned and had gotten back into the saloon which sped away.

  Now Dennis focused on the tall redhead. She was clearly saying something to Von Werner, then together, they turned and he placed an arm around her shoulder as they headed for the severly wrecked airport buildings.

  Dennis watched for a further few minutes as the forklift truck continued to drive crates up the ramp into the back of the Hercules. He counted all the men on the ground with guns. There appeared to be twelve in all. Then he saw Petrov standing with two others. The Russian appeared to be giving orders. Then he too headed for the buildings. Dennis had seen enough. He scrabbled back to where Natalie and Hutchinson waited, crouching by a large rock.

  “I’m going down there.”

  “How did I know you were going to say that?” Hutchinson said.

  “You don’t think it’s too dangerous?” Natalie asked, knowing he wouldn’t.

  “If I can get a tracker on one of those crates we can find out where they’re going. Then all we need to do is follow. They’ll lead us straight to where they hope the spear will work. Maybe we could even collect the bounty on Von Werner.”

  “Or get killed in the process,” Hutchinson put in.

  “I’ll be fine. I’m just going to plant a tracker and I’ll be out.”

  “Okay. We’ll be watching,” Hutchinson said, “The first sign of trouble and I want you out of there.”

  “No worries. I’m going to take the AK-47. Maybe I can pass as a local if I’m seen. They’d probably shoot first and ask questions later but I’ve got to try.”

  Dennis kissed Natalie on the lips.

  “Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck.”

Dennis checked that the Kalashnikov was loaded, put it over his back, wrapped his keffiyeh around his head and covered all but his eyes with it. He gave his companions a cheery wave and set off towards the destroyed airport.