Payback - John Hayes Series 06 (2020), стр. 32

Hemin shrugged. “Whose government is good? I think you are English, no?”

“Yes.”

“Can you honestly say your government is good? That it has never done any wrong? How many countries has it been involved in, peacekeeping?” He said the last word with a sneer. “Look, no government is perfect, but at least there was peace in Syria.” He exhaled noisily, his eyes darting to the rear-view mirror, and back to the road in front. “How many people have to die because of the games of our leaders?”

“So, why do you do this?” Steve asked from the back.

Hemin’s eyes met Steve’s in the rear-view mirror.

“This?”

“This.” Steve gestured around the car. “Taking people across the border. Smuggling.”

“You are judging me?”

“Maybe.”

John turned in his seat and gave Steve a warning look.

“It’s easy to judge from afar, but if you live here, you will see it’s not so simple.” Hemin slowed. “If we go straight, it’s the crossing into Iraq, but we go this way.” He took a narrow and unlit exit road leading off into the countryside.

“In the old days, before the war, a long time before the war, we used to go back and forth.” He pointed up the road. “Ahead is the river. On the other side is Syria. But the borders are all political. This side and that side is Kurdistan. I am Kurdish. Half of my family lives here, the other half there. But there is nothing over there now. Only death and destruction. I take food, medicine.”

“That’s all you take?” John asked.

Hemin paused. “No.” He glanced at John, then back at Steve. “No, it’s not. But the other... things pay for the food and medicine.”

“And Mehmet?”

Hemin didn’t answer immediately. John saw his eyes narrow a little, then relax as if Hemin was thinking of what he could say.

“He is my boss,” came the eventual answer. “He... arranges things.”

They sank back into silence, and Hemin concentrated on the road ahead. There was nothing to see, no lights, very few buildings, just the narrow asphalt road in the twin beams of light from the pickup.

They had driven for ten minutes without seeing anyone when they spotted headlights approaching ahead. Hemin slowed a little, and John noticed his grip tightening on the steering wheel. The lights got nearer, then flicked to full beam. John shielded his eyes with his hand, and Hemin cursed as he turned his head to the side, trying to preserve some of his night vision. He slowed even more, then the sky lit up with the red and blue strobe of police lights.

“Shit,” John cursed, and the three men sat up straight as Hemin pulled to the side of the road.

“It’s okay. I will speak to them.”

John clenched his jaw and looked back at Steve and Mansur, both men tense and upright.

Hemin wound down his window as the vehicle pulled alongside. A powerful flashlight switched on, and the beam played over them, so bright, they had to look away. The flashlight switched off, and once the spots cleared from his eyes, John could see the occupants, two lean, hard-looking men in uniform. Their hair was cropped close to their scalps, and their eyes were wary.

Hemin spoke rapidly in Turkish, the driver of the car nodding while his partner stared at John. John’s pulse rate was climbing rapidly. Would it all end here? On the side of a road in the middle of rural Turkey? He willed himself to relax; they had done nothing wrong yet. They had visas for Turkey and were just out for a night drive through the countryside. The driver looked over Hemin’s shoulder at John, sending his heart rate sky high again. John forced a smile and nodded a greeting. The policeman studied John’s face for a moment, then nodded back. He asked Hemin a couple of questions, then turned to his partner and said something. As he turned back, Hemin reached out a hand through the window, and John thought he glimpsed something in Hemin’s hand. The policeman shook his hand, and when he let go, made a fist, and quickly dropped it below the window. He said something, gave a nod to Hemin, then drove away. John exhaled slowly and realizing his fingertips had been digging into the seat cushion, relaxed his grip. He leaned forward, so he could see in the wing mirror and watched the red taillights disappear up the road.

Sitting back in his seat, he looked over at Hemin. Hemin grinned, released the handbrake, and pulled out onto the road. John looked back over his shoulder at Mansur, calm as ever, and gave him a nod, while Steve puffed air out through pursed lips.

“Fuck me.”

Hemin glanced in the rear-view mirror.

“I told you that you could trust me.”

“Yeah.” Steve leaned forward and slapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, mate.”

“Australian?”

“Yeah.”

“Good people.”

“I’m beginning to like you, Hemin.”

Ten minutes later, Hemin slowed and turned right, across the road onto a dirt track which led off the road into a field. He pulled to a stop and switched off the engine.

“Come.”

They climbed out of the pickup and stretched their backs and legs. Darkness surrounded them, and the sky above hung low and thick like a blanket. The only sound came from the river and the ticking of the cooling engine.

“Take your bags and follow me. We cross here.”

The three men grabbed their bags and vests and followed Hemin down a dirt path. John hung back and pulled out his phone. He closed one eye to preserve his night vision and shielded the light from the phone screen with his hand. He opened his messaging app and shared the location with Adriana before slipping the phone back into his pocket, then moved to catch up with the others. They walked slowly and cautiously, mindful of keeping their footing in the darkness. After about fifty meters, they reached the riverbank, the water flowing slowly past in inky blackness. A stone pier glowed pale in the ambient light, and Hemin led them onto it, then knelt down and pulled on a