Payback - John Hayes Series 06 (2020), стр. 12
John completed a full loop of the housing estate, but it wasn’t enough, he was only just getting warmed up. He headed toward the exit, waved at the sleepy Pakistani security guard manning the gate, ducked under the barrier, and headed out on the main road. He increased his pace, breathing rhythmically through his nostrils, emptying his mind, focusing on the flow of air over his top lip and the rhythmic pounding of his feet. After a few kilometers, the effort melted away, his body running by itself, just a witness as if observing his body from without. He increased his speed, faster and faster until he was flying along, and his whole being filled with joy. There was no past, no future, no fear, no desire, just the present moment. He ran for thirty minutes before turning back and returning the way he had come as the sky lightened, a faint glow on the horizon signaling the sun’s awakening.
Spotting the entrance to the housing estate in the distance, he increased his pace, now sucking air in through his mouth, but it was still effortless, his body reveling in the primal joy of movement. He reached the barrier and slowed, reducing his pace to a jog, then a walk, his hands on his hips as he caught his breath. He continued up the road for a few hundred meters before turning back and entering the housing complex. The guard grinned with approval and gave him a thumbs-up as he passed. John walked back along the street, signs of life now more apparent as households slowly woke and began their day. A pair of bright green parrots squawked noisily as they swooped low overhead, and a neighbor raised a hand in greeting as their dog peed on the tire of an Audi parked in their driveway.
Despite the lack of sleep and the tension of the day before, John felt at peace, the endorphin rush making him feel almost invincible, able to tackle anything the universe threw at him. As he pushed open the front door, he felt more confident than at any time since Steve had first contacted him. It was time to work out how he would rescue Steve’s niece.
19
Mia stirred, blinked her eyes open, then sat up with a start. She looked down beside her at Malak, sleeping on the blanket beside her, and touched her forehead; she was still hot. She heard a faint noise beside her, and she looked over to see Naeem kneeling on the floor, his eyes closed, hands raised in prayer as he performed namaaz.
She watched him perform the rituals but had no desire to join him. She didn’t pray much anymore, not in the formal sense, not like Naeem. There was little point. She doubted God cared which way you faced or how many times a day you prayed—not when people were dying every day.
She shuffled back until she was leaning against the wall, gently picked up her daughter, holding her with one arm as she pulled the blanket up around them. It was cold, and she could see vapor from her breath rising in the early morning light.
Naeem finished his prayers and opened his eyes. He nodded at her, then looked around for his boots.
“I’ve left some water for you,” he said as he laced them up. “I’ll try to find some food.” He stood up and reached for his weapon leaning against the wall, slung it over his shoulder, then reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and removed the phone. “Here take this. There is still some battery charge. Don’t turn it on until it’s time. I don’t know when I can charge it again.”
“You’re not coming back?”
“I don’t know.” Naeem shrugged and looked out the hole in the wall where the window had once been. He turned back to look at her and scratched his scraggly beard with his right hand. “I’ll find food now, but I have to go back to the front. I can’t leave my brothers.”
“Brothers? What about your daughter?”
Naeem sighed and looked down at the bundle in Mia’s arms. He stepped forward, kissed his fingertips, then placed them on the child’s head.
“I’ll be back with food. Inshallah.”
Mia closed her eyes and rocked her child back and forth. Despite everything, she didn’t want Naeem to leave her alone. She retreated into the protective shell she had built for herself—just her and Malak. The outside world didn’t exist, didn’t matter.
20
John and Steve sat together, staring at the laptop screen.
“So, if we fly to Erbil, then it’s over two hundred kilometers to the border crossing at Faysh Khabur.”
John tapped on the keyboard. “Hmmm.”
“Probably at least a three-hour drive, then who knows how long it will take to cross the border. And that’s if we do it legally.”
“That’s right.” John leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Then it’s over six hundred kilometers across the whole of Syria from here,”—John leaned forward and pointed at the screen—“to here.”
“Shit.” Steve exhaled noisily
“Yeah.” John continued to stare at the screen, then looked up as Marisel walked in with a tray. “Oh, thank you, Marisel.”
“Is Madam up yet, Marisel?” Steve asked.
“I think so, sir.” Marisel nodded as she placed the tray with two cups and a French press on the table beside them. “Shall I prepare breakfast?”
Steve gave a questioning look at John.
“Yes, I’m starving. Adriana’s just having a shower. She’ll be down soon.”
Steve