“Cobra, this is Tower. Copy that. Out.” It was the break Derek had hoped for.
He released her hand, turned around, and drove back toward the main road, doing the best he could to stay in his tire tracks.
“What are you doing?”
He had enough to deal with listening to McManus in his earpiece. “Cobra, this is Tower. I’m backtracking to the main road. Warn me if they turn around, over.”
“Tower, this is Cobra. Wilco. Out.”
It was a gamble, but he couldn’t be sure he had enough fuel to head into the countryside of Afghanistan without a clear route home. If they got a flat tire or ran out of fuel out here, they’d be stuck and vulnerable until Cobra could mount a rescue. Also, he’d seen the tire tracks. They’d looked fresh. He couldn’t be sure that they hadn’t been left by the Daesh fighters who had attacked the village.
This was their best bet. With any luck, they would be well on their way to Mazar-e-Sharif before their pursuers realized they hadn’t gone back to the village. If they werereallylucky, the bastards would spot their tracks on the side road and waste time searching for them there.
Derek turned onto the main road and headed north again, pushing the speed as much as he safely could.
“Tower, this is Cobra. One of the vehicles is turnin’ around,” McManus said. “It’s Hamzad, over.”
“Cobra, this is Tower. Copy that.” Derek would bet that Hamzad was involved in this. He’d pushed them to go to the village. “What are the others doing, over?”
“Tower, this is Cobra. Enemy QRF is continuin’ toward the village, over.”
A few minutes later, McManus told Derek that Hamzad had stopped at the side road. “He’s spotted your tracks, and he’s takin’ the bait, over.”
Derek wasn’t at all surprised when the other vehicles turned around a moment later and met Hamzad there before heading off to pursue the Land Cruiser’s tracks.
The bastard had sold them out—that much was clear—but to whom? IS? The Taliban? One of the militias? And who was their target—Derek or Jenna?
He would rather not find out—not out here.
Derek pushed the Land Cruiser to go faster. He had close to three-quarters of a tank of gas now, plus another tankful in cans. That would be enough to get them to Mazar-e-Sharif.
Jenna didn’t know it yet, but he wasn’t taking her back to the hospital.
* * *
Jenna hadto resist the urge to look over her shoulder. She told herself that Derek was in touch with his men, that they had a drone overhead, that he would warn her if their situation went from bad to worse. But knowing all of that didn’t make her any less afraid.
She tried to listen to every word he said, not that it all made sense to her.
“Cobra, this is Tower. Enemy QRF five klicks behind us and heading our way. Acknowledged. Out.”
Who were the QRF? What was a “klick”? Who was this enemy?
It had to be IS. They had attacked the village. They were known to be out here. Maybe they’d heard that Westerners were in the village and had come for them.
You don’t know that.
“Cobra, this is Tower. Enemy QRF no longer in pursuit. Acknowledged. Out.”
Thank God for that!
“Cobra, this is Tower. ETA to Mazar is forty-seven mikes. Out.”
Mazar?
Blood rushed to Jenna’s head together with the abrupt realization that they ought to have turned off the highway by now. They weren’t going back to the hospital.
He was taking her to Mazar-e-Sharif.