Fire Hawk Read Online Free

dissemblers had won. He was their prisoner.
    Suddenly the truck slowed down, bumping onto the rough verge and coming to a juddering halt. The sun had turned the rear of the vehicle into an oven. Sam’s throat felt parched. He heard the flap being unlaced and someone climbing into the back.
    â€˜What’s going on?’ He felt panicky again. ‘What’s happening?’
    He imagined a pistol being put to his head. His arms were untied and he was jerked up into a sitting position.
    â€˜We have stopped to urinate, Packer. That is all.’ Sandhurst’s mellow tones. It surprised him the interrogator was still with him. ‘We don’t want you making a mess of our vehicle.’
    Why was Sandhurst here? Interrogators weren’t normally involved in transporting prisoners around the country.
    â€˜Then take this damn hood off so I can see what I’m doing.’
    â€˜You’re not allowed to see. You’re a
spy
, Packer.’
    Gingerly, Sam felt for the edge of the platform and swung his legs over. When his feet hit the ground he yelped with pain. Hands gripped him and he was marched a few paces.
    â€˜This will do.’ Sandhurst’s voice again. ‘You can do it here. What is it you call it in the Navy? Pumping ship?’
    â€˜Something like that.’
    The Navy . . .
How
did this man know so much about him?
    Packer fumbled with the unfamiliar buttons of the trousers given to him to wear that morning. Unable to see what he was doing, the flow didn’t come easily. Behind him on the road he heard the swish of heavy vehicles passing, confirming they were on a main highway. And from the strength of the sun above he guessed it was midday or later. Must have dozed a little in the truck.
    After he had buttoned up, the hands were back on his elbows, spinning him round and steering him to the truck.
    â€˜Look,’ he protested gently, ‘for the love of God, can’t you tell me where we’re going?’
    â€˜You’ll find out soon enough,’ Sandhurst snapped, shoving him against the tailboard so he could feel the ledge. ‘Get in. There’s some water in a bottle if you want it.’
    â€˜What about food? I’ve had nothing.’
    â€˜Oh, really? Haven’t you heard?’ Sandhurst mocked. ‘There’s a food shortage in Iraq. UN sanctions, you know.’
    Sam eased his backside onto the tailboard and swunghis legs up. His shins burned horribly. He edged backwards until he found the stretcher again. A plastic water bottle was pressed into his hands. He unscrewed the top and raised the rim to his lips. The water was warm and unpleasant, but he drank gratefully. He heard breathing. His hearing, made more sensitive by his inability to see, told him it was the guard beside him rather than Sandhurst.
    â€˜What’s going to happen to me?’ he whispered. ‘You can tell me.’ Between the beatings this man had shown a degree of kindness to him in the past few days.
    â€˜Tch!’
    Sam held out the bottle.
    â€˜No. You must drink more. You get dehydrate.’
    He felt he’d had enough, but took several more swigs.
    â€˜Where are we going, friend? Tell me.’
    â€˜Tch, tch,’ the Iraqi repeated, taking the bottle and pushing Sam down onto the stretcher. He retied his arms. ‘You are spy. Soon finish for you.’
    God! That word ‘finish’ was like a bell tolling.
    â€˜What d’you mean?’
    â€˜This night. All finish for you,’ the guard whispered, then scurried away.
    Tonight. Within hours. The ambiguity of the words tortured him. He tensed his arms, testing the strength of the ties. No chance of escape. He heard the canvas flaps being fastened, then the cab doors banging shut. The engine coughed back into life and they began to move again.
    As the tyres picked up speed on the highway, his mind filled with the image of a face. The face of the woman whom he’d entrusted with