A Hostile State Adrian Magson (reading e books txt) 📖

spotlight of an air search, and hoped that the pilot and men who’d rappelled to the ground were looking the other way.

Whichever. If they were searching for us, how the hell had they got onto our location? And what did they want?

That thought was made violently redundant as a long volley of gunfire lit up the area behind us like a firework display, adding to the clatter of the helicopter’s engines to further shatter the early dawn. I risked a quick glance back. The flashes of gunfire were coming from all around the area where we had been sitting moments ago. The attackers weren’t taking any chances and were going in full bore, a scorched earth approach to get the job done and dusted.

The battering of the combined assault seemed to shake the ground and trees and any birds that hadn’t already flown out of their roosts took off and looped frantically away to the south, while rabbits and other ground-based mammals ran frantically from almost under our feet in a desperate attempt to get away.

Trying to run in half-light among trees with low branches and over rough ground is not easy. Especially with thoughts that those following you might be using night-vision glasses or thermal imaging equipment to pick up heat sources. I had no idea what the helicopter might be equipped with, but instinct told me that if they were using machine guns they probably had some high-tech equipment on board as well. Staying where we were would not end well.

I ran alongside Isobel, who moved with surprising ease to begin with. But she quickly began to flag after stumbling two or three times over hollows in the ground and half-buried tree roots. I grabbed her bag so she could focus on keeping her balance, and we made good progress down the slope towards where she had indicated we would be picked up.

Eventually, as I knew we would, we reached the edge of the olive grove and the track we’d followed up here. We were forced to stop. Moving out of here now would be suicidal.

I turned and looked north. The gunfire had ceased and the helicopter had disappeared from sight behind the trees, reducing the engine to a muffled roar. My guess was they were putting down more men to see the results of the shooting and conduct a ground search if they didn’t like the results.

‘I don’t get it,’ Isobel gasped, out of breath. She was crouched down on one knee, a hand on her chest as she tried to draw in her breath in great whooping gasps. Eventually she coughed and got back to normal. ‘How did they get here? And who the hell are they?’

‘Beats me. Can you get in touch with your controller? If our ride arrives now they’ll be in trouble.’ I didn’t like to think of what would happen, but instinct told me that if the people in the Agusta were happy to drill the local countryside with machine-gun fire, they wouldn’t think twice about taking out anyone they considered a threat, including another helicopter intruding on their party. Shoot first, ask questions later was a common maxim in this part of the world.

Isobel dialled up and waited, then asked the question, explaining in the briefest terms what our problem was. I didn’t hear the other side of the conversation but it didn’t sound good, and she closed the connection and looked at me.

‘We’re too late to stop them,’ she said. ‘Our ride is already on his way in from the west. They’ll try to warn him but radio contact is patchy.’ She pointed down the slope to an area the size of a small football pitch surround by a few olive trees. ‘We need to be down there otherwise he’ll never see us among these trees.’

And coming up here to find us would be too risky. I hoped the pilot had balls because if he spotted the Agusta or his controller got through to him to let him know the dangers, he’d need them. We couldn’t wait here, that much was obvious. But getting down to the area Isobel had pointed out was across open ground with virtually nil cover, and for us, just as dangerous.

A muffled explosion came from up the slope behind us. Right where we’d left the Suzuki. It wouldn’t take much searching to reveal that there were no bodies inside or anywhere nearby, and the crew of the Agusta would start spreading their search net much wider.

It was do or die. ‘Come on,’ I said, slinging Isobel’s rucksack over my shoulder and grabbing her hand. ‘This time we walk, but get ready to drop when I say and lie very still.’ In uncertain light and this terrain our pale clothes might help us blend in against the earth and dried grass.

We walked quickly, staying low. I kept a weather eye on the area behind us, waiting for the tell-tale roar of the overcharged twin engines getting the Agusta off the ground. I knew we had a little time but the trek to the trees seemed to take way too long.

Suddenly another shape appeared coming from the west. It was skimming the ground, a giant dragonfly with a splash of early sun flaring off the glass of the cabin. It began drifting our way across the open ground, skirting a clump of trees with almost elegant ease. Then the pilot spotted us and headed our way, dropping to near ground-level. I hoped he’d been warned about the Agusta and that he was going to hold his nerve long enough to get us on board.

I put on speed, dragging and half-carrying Isobel with me, and we stumbled over the dry grass as the Gazelle skimmed the earth. The moment the skids touched down the side door flipped open and the pilot was gesturing for us to get inside double-quick.

He gestured to us to put on our seatbelts, then faced forward and hit the gas, lifting off with a