Payback - John Hayes Series 06 (2020), стр. 35

The sunrise call to prayer from a distant mosque carried across the fields, mingling with the chirping of birds and the distant barking of dogs as the area began its day. As they walked and the sun rose, they warmed up, and it wasn’t long before they had stripped off their outer jackets, exposing their bulletproof vests with Press emblazoned across the front and back. Steve stopped and removed a camera from his bag and slung it over his shoulder, completing the look, while John looked on approvingly. Steve looked the part, although that early in the morning, there was little sign of life from the farmhouses and huts they passed.

The road followed a ridgeline with fields stretching out to their right and the land sloping away to their left toward the river, the slopes more lush and greener than those on the right side of the road.

The buildings became more frequent the closer they got to the village until the fields disappeared from sight, and the houses closed in around them. A man approached from the opposite direction, took a quick look at them, and averted his eyes as he passed. They were strangers, and it was safer to avoid them.

The three men reached a junction, and not sure where to go, John suggested, Mansur go and enquire about Ferhad Hussein and his taxi. He and Steve shrugged off their backpacks and leaned against the wall while Mansur crossed the street to a tiny bakery. John angled his face toward the sun, feeling the warmth on his face, and kept one eye on Mansur while Steve fiddled with his camera and tried to look casual.

After a few minutes, the baker stepped out of his shop onto the street and pointed down the road. Judging by the hand signals, John guessed he was giving Mansur directions. A minute later, Mansur returned with a big smile and a handful of flatbread.

“We’ll find him down that way.” Mansur nodded in the direction the baker had pointed, then handed them each a piece of bread. “Try this. He just made it.”

The bread was soft and still warm from the oven, and the three men chewed away as they walked down the road.

“How was he?” John asked. “Suspicious?”

“No,” Mansur said through a mouthful of bread. He swallowed and continued, “He asked who we worked for, so I told him we work for the BBC, and he accepted it.”

“Good. Let’s hope it continues. But next time if someone asks, tell them we work for the Portuguese newspaper, Público. Our story has to match our press passes.”

“No problem.” He pointed toward a street on their right. “This way.”

They walked on for another five-hundred meters until they entered a village square where, at the far end, an ancient Olive tree provided shade for a line of yellow taxis. Mansur walked ahead and peered inside each one. They were all empty, and there was no sign of the drivers. He turned and shrugged.

“No-one here.”

A movement in John’s peripheral vision caught his attention, and he turned his head to see a man appearing from behind a wall, zipping up his pants. John looked at Mansur and jerked his head in the man’s direction. Mansur nodded and walked over as a thin cat with half a tail scampered across his path and hid behind the taxis.

A twitch from an upper floor window caught John’s eye, and he looked up to see an elderly woman watching them before she stepped back out of sight, pulling the shutters closed behind her.

After a brief discussion, Mansur returned.

“He said Ferhad would be here soon. That’s his car there, the third one.”

They turned to look. It was small, about the size of a Corolla, and there wasn’t a body panel that wasn’t dented or scraped. Thick layers of dust hinted at its heavy mileage, and the tires seemed to be lacking tread.

“It will be a tight squeeze.”

“Yeah, well, beggars can’t be choosers,” John replied.

“This guy said he can take us,” Mansur nodded toward the man who was now smoking and leaning on the hood of the first car in the row.

John looked at Steve, “What do you think?”

Steve looked back at the taxi and shrugged.

“I think we should stick with Hemin’s guy. He said we could trust him.”

“I agree.” John turned to Mansur. “We’ll wait.”