jump,
claiming to have a prior engagement, and as he had used a false name —
belonging to a real ex-para he'd served with — and the licence plates on his
car were also false, there was nothing but a description to link him to the
death. Once he'd shaven off the full beard and had a haircut, the
authorities would be searching for a ghost.
Farrar was satisfied with the plan and
gave the go-ahead to implement it the following week.
Another few days, he thought, and he
could finally get a proper roast beef dinner. For now, though, he had to
be satisfied with a half-decent shepherd's pie from the local English pub.
Chapter 7
Wednesday 18th
April 2012
Sam Grant woke as yet another mosquito
helped itself to a drink from his exposed arm. Instinctively he tried to swat
it, and that was when he remembered the handcuffs. They had been produced
as the sun fell the previous evening, and he had been shackled to a tree and
left to sleep in a sitting position. When he asked what he was supposed
to do if he needed the toilet he was simply told to hold it until the
morning. With that, his vision of a night escape had vanished, leaving
him with not only dented optimism but also a very full bladder.
When one of the guards stirred close by
Grant called out to him.
“ Ihi ako ,” he said, letting the man know he was desperate for a
piss.
The guard rubbed his eyes and then dug
into his pocket for the keys, and as he ambled past Grant he dropped the key by
the base of the tree and continued on to answer his own call of nature.
After a little fumbling Grant managed to free himself and stood up on legs
filled with pins and needles, a product of his awkward sleeping position.
Still, he managed to move a few steps to the edge of the clearing and finally
relieve himself. The thought occurred to him that he was losing a lot of
fluid and not taking much in, and if he didn't change the ratio soon he was
going to start feeling the effects.
However, that wasn't the most troubling
thought rattling around in his head.
The previous evening, in line with
Muslim tradition, the bodies of Jonjon and Abel were buried as soon as was
practical. Grant and the others had been given the task of digging the
grave while the Abu Sayyaf washed the dead and shrouded them in hammocks, these
being the only white material they had.
With the bodies laid to rest, their
heads pointing towards Mecca, the pace of the march had picked up considerably
and the beach was no more than five hours away: they would reach it long before
Sonny and Len could get into the area. His only hope was that they would
lie up close to the shore and wait until nightfall before boarding the boat,
but that was far from guaranteed.
Movement near his foot caught his eye
and he saw a six-inch long black millipede slink past his toes. He followed
its path and watched it crawl inside a fallen tree trunk, where he noticed the
particularly sharp remnants of a branch that had been snapped off, probably
when it was felled. The stub of the branch gave him an idea, and he knew
what he had to keep an eye out for.
He rejoined the group, most of whom were
already awake and preparing for another day in the jungle. Halton in
particular was in good voice.
“Who's Dina?” Vick asked, catching Grant
totally off guard.
“What made you ask that?”
“You were saying the name over and over
in your sleep,” she said. “You must have been dreaming.”
Grant knew which dream she was referring
to. It was one he had at least three times a week and it never
varied. He is in the car with Dina driving and Daniel in the back seat,
all three of them heading towards the beach for a mini break. He is
enjoying the beautiful sunshine and Daniel’s singing when the song suddenly
stops and the sky darkens, thundery black clouds blotting out the sun. He
looks in the back seat and Daniel is flopping from side to side, his eyes
lifeless. He turns to tell Dina
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