and, except for one large flattened rock that partially blocked the passage higher up, it was an easy gradient to the top of the escarpment.
Loose sand had drifted down into this natural funnel; in places it looked soft and deep enough to cause problems for the heavy vehicle. The tribesman rattled his handcuffs. "Free me, sah'b — I will walk ahead of you. It will be safer."
Bolan hesitated.
"I cannot outrun your bullets," the bedu said, indicating the Uzi. "I can find the best path to follow."
Bolan unlocked the cuffs. Danny wondered why he seemed so reluctant; it sounded like a good idea to her. The man climbed down, carefully scanning the ground as he plodded up the wind-cut passageway. The Hog sat there idling while Bolan modified the Uzi.
The man turned, beckoning them forward with a wave.
He moved faster now, the hill was getting easier, until he skipped sideways with several nimble steps.
Bolan was already halfway up the slope when the nomad made that last odd crablike maneuver.
He pulled up hard, jamming on the hand brake.
With utter horror Danny suddenly realized why Bolan had been so apprehensive. Not four feet from the right front tire, the shifting wind had blown back enough sand to reveal a dark metal lump! The desert thief had led them straight into a mine trap.
"Stop right there!" Bolan commanded.
The man glanced back as Bolan stood up — and as the American's hands cleared the windshield, he saw the fat round barrel of the silencer affixed to the Uzi.
The Arab weighed his chances. He was safely out of the mine strip. That big flat rock offered him cover less than twenty feet away. Bolan did not give him the chance to try for it... a short burst stuttered softly from the submachine gun. The whining bullets made more noise as they ricocheted off the corner of the slab, chipping out puffs of powdered rock.
The chief knew he'd never make it in one piece. The American would cut him in two.
"Get back down here!" Bolan ordered gruffly. "Now!" He handed the gun to Danny. "Watch that trickster." Then he turned to a box in the back and opened the lid, pulling out what he'd claimed to the customs officer was a metal detector.
Danny knew now that he hadn't lied exactly — he just hadn't told the whole truth.
The device was a metal detector of sorts: a highly efficient, compact unit for sweeping mines. Bolan tested the ground alongside the Hog before stepping down. He was waiting in front of the Jeep when the crafty nomad finally got back to them. "One more false move and she's going to pull the trigger, you understand?"
The man nodded vigorously.
"Now I'm going ahead to sweep a way clear for the Jeep."
Another jerk of his head.
"I'll call out where they are... and you, my friend," said Bolan, handing him a wooden stake, "are going to dig them up."
The bedu's throat bobbed with a terrified swallow.
Bolan moved methodically upward, listening through the lightweight headset and watching the gauge as he swung the detector in a smooth short arc.
Twelve paces out and he stopped, pointing to the ground a few inches from his left boot. "Okay, do it!"
The man, trying to stop his hands from shaking, prodded gingerly at the soil.
"Don't try anything stupid," Bolan snarled as he continued to walk up the slope, sweeping a pattern wide enough to take the Hog through safely.
Danny's brow and upper lip were beaded with perspiration and it wasn't just from the early-morning sun that was beginning to arc behind them. She held her breath each time Mack paused, his feet remaining stock-still, as he marked the location of the next mine.
It took nearly fifty minutes to clear a way to the spot where the big block cut the passage to half. Bolan eyed the boulder, the slope beneath and all the other details as he contemplated turning things to his advantage. Prodding the man in the back, they retraced their footsteps to the Hog.
"Okay, Danny, cross your fingers and hope we did it right." Keeping his eye fixed on the
Loose sand had drifted down into this natural funnel; in places it looked soft and deep enough to cause problems for the heavy vehicle. The tribesman rattled his handcuffs. "Free me, sah'b — I will walk ahead of you. It will be safer."
Bolan hesitated.
"I cannot outrun your bullets," the bedu said, indicating the Uzi. "I can find the best path to follow."
Bolan unlocked the cuffs. Danny wondered why he seemed so reluctant; it sounded like a good idea to her. The man climbed down, carefully scanning the ground as he plodded up the wind-cut passageway. The Hog sat there idling while Bolan modified the Uzi.
The man turned, beckoning them forward with a wave.
He moved faster now, the hill was getting easier, until he skipped sideways with several nimble steps.
Bolan was already halfway up the slope when the nomad made that last odd crablike maneuver.
He pulled up hard, jamming on the hand brake.
With utter horror Danny suddenly realized why Bolan had been so apprehensive. Not four feet from the right front tire, the shifting wind had blown back enough sand to reveal a dark metal lump! The desert thief had led them straight into a mine trap.
"Stop right there!" Bolan commanded.
The man glanced back as Bolan stood up — and as the American's hands cleared the windshield, he saw the fat round barrel of the silencer affixed to the Uzi.
The Arab weighed his chances. He was safely out of the mine strip. That big flat rock offered him cover less than twenty feet away. Bolan did not give him the chance to try for it... a short burst stuttered softly from the submachine gun. The whining bullets made more noise as they ricocheted off the corner of the slab, chipping out puffs of powdered rock.
The chief knew he'd never make it in one piece. The American would cut him in two.
"Get back down here!" Bolan ordered gruffly. "Now!" He handed the gun to Danny. "Watch that trickster." Then he turned to a box in the back and opened the lid, pulling out what he'd claimed to the customs officer was a metal detector.
Danny knew now that he hadn't lied exactly — he just hadn't told the whole truth.
The device was a metal detector of sorts: a highly efficient, compact unit for sweeping mines. Bolan tested the ground alongside the Hog before stepping down. He was waiting in front of the Jeep when the crafty nomad finally got back to them. "One more false move and she's going to pull the trigger, you understand?"
The man nodded vigorously.
"Now I'm going ahead to sweep a way clear for the Jeep."
Another jerk of his head.
"I'll call out where they are... and you, my friend," said Bolan, handing him a wooden stake, "are going to dig them up."
The bedu's throat bobbed with a terrified swallow.
Bolan moved methodically upward, listening through the lightweight headset and watching the gauge as he swung the detector in a smooth short arc.
Twelve paces out and he stopped, pointing to the ground a few inches from his left boot. "Okay, do it!"
The man, trying to stop his hands from shaking, prodded gingerly at the soil.
"Don't try anything stupid," Bolan snarled as he continued to walk up the slope, sweeping a pattern wide enough to take the Hog through safely.
Danny's brow and upper lip were beaded with perspiration and it wasn't just from the early-morning sun that was beginning to arc behind them. She held her breath each time Mack paused, his feet remaining stock-still, as he marked the location of the next mine.
It took nearly fifty minutes to clear a way to the spot where the big block cut the passage to half. Bolan eyed the boulder, the slope beneath and all the other details as he contemplated turning things to his advantage. Prodding the man in the back, they retraced their footsteps to the Hog.
"Okay, Danny, cross your fingers and hope we did it right." Keeping his eye fixed on the
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