* * *
Greg insisted on driving, and all Stoner could do was fret in the passenger seat as he clung on while the GAZ fought through the thick snow. They reached the junction on the Kabul to Jalalabad main highway, and he recalled its name from the old days when he'd first arrived in country.
The Grand Trunk Road, The Highway of Death, but whose death?
He felt a growing sense of unease, a knot of tension in his gut that told him they were heading into trouble. Serious trouble.
Ahmed isn’t at the farm. Marina hasn’t arrived at the hospital in Jbad, and Massoud’s on the loose with Parks and Daud. Then there’s the weather, thick snow everywhere, and it’s still falling. Visibility’s crap and worsening!
"There's an example of what happens when you drive too fast," Greg said, interrupting his thoughts, "I thought it was another black Wrangler like yours, but I guess not. It's hard to make it out. The bodywork is covered with snow."
Stoner glanced over at the half-buried SUV. The wheels were sticking up where the roof should have been, and most of the body lay hidden beneath the snow, apart from one small patch where the paintwork still showed. Black paintwork. He had a sudden image of Massoud driving away from Mehtar Lam in a black Range Rover.
"Stop!"
Greg jammed on the brakes, and the GAZ slid toward the side of the road before he corrected the skid and they finally stopped. Both men walked slowly toward the vehicle, and Stoner kept his Desert Eagles ready in case his theory was correct. It was empty, but a body lay half-covered by snow nearby. They would have almost missed it, except for the dark red stain. It still showed through the light covering of flakes.
Greg pulled the man out into the open and brushed off his clothes. The red crosses on his coat were eloquent, and it wasn't difficult to put together the rest of the story.
"A paramedic."
Stoner nodded as he stooped to pick up a bright yellow wristband that had fallen on the snow.
"They gave this to Marina in the hospital. There's only one way this could have gone down. The ambulance stopped when they saw the upturned vehicle to check if they needed any help. In return, they gave him a bullet. It could only have been Massoud. They stole the Unimog, and they've got her." He pocketed the wristband.
He was already running back to the GAZ when Greg caught him up.
"Hold it! We don't even know which way they're headed."
"I know which way," he asserted grimly, "There's only one place they could be headed. Ghazni. He'll be on the way to close down his operation before he disappears somewhere the other end of the country. Let's go."
"You sure about Ghazni?"
"About as certain as I'm sure he has Marina. We're wasting time, Greg. Either get this heap of Soviet shit moving, or I'll kick you out and drive myself."
The other man didn't reply. He jammed his foot down on the gas pedal, and they accelerated away. He didn't need Stoner to remind him of the urgency, and he drove the SUV fast. They almost left the road on numerous occasions, but each time he brought the game little jeep back on course. There was no need to say if they didn't reach the town in time, the Afghan drug lord would kill Marina and disappear with his buddies. Not an option. They had to stop on three occasions to dig the vehicle out of snowdrifts, but even Stoner had to admit they'd designed the tough little Russian jeep to handle its fair share of punishment.
There was no sign of Ahmed. They drove into the town, and still they hadn't seen him along the highway. It didn't look good. The town was in darkness, and they headed for the hospital. Greg skidded to a halt outside the main entrance, and both men raced inside. They had to call the doctor from his apartment nearby, and he arrived after ten long, agonizing minutes with a long, thick sheepskin coat over his pajamas.
"The Unimog? Yes, it should have arrived long before now. Yes, a paramedic wearing a padded coat with a red cross on each sleeve accompanied the patient. There is no need for concern. We've used that ambulance before, and it always gets through, no matter how bad the weather conditions." He smiled, "We could route that vehicle over the mountains, and it would still arrive."
"I've got bad news for you, Doc. Your paramedic is dead. Whoever did it hijacked the vehicle. Along with the patient and the driver."
They explained what they'd seen on the Grand Trunk Road, and the physician looked stunned. "If this is true, we have to call the police immediately. I haven't experienced anything like this since the Taliban days. An ambulance hijacked and the paramedic murdered! Shocking!" A shadow crossed his face, "Do you think the Taliban is responsible?"
"It's not the Taliban. It's Massoud," Stoner told him.
The man went white. "Massoud. You mean the drug lord?"
"The very same. If you call the cops, you'll be wasting your time. They're probably on his payroll."
"What do you plan to do?"
His expression was cold.
"Kill him."
He digested the meaning of what he'd said. "Kill Massoud?"
"Yep."
"There's something else," Greg added, "A friend of ours, the kid with the old tractor. He has a dog with him. He's gone missing."
The doctor smiled. "No, he's not missing. I saw him around here earlier. I don't know what he's waiting for, but I saw his tractor parked around back, and I heard the dog barking as well. Perhaps he thinks the girl is still here."
Stoner felt the knot in his stomach ease a fraction.
Somehow, since this business started, Ahmed Durani has always been around. I’ve even grown to like the plucky kid. If I ever settle down and have a family, God forbid, I'd want a son like Ahmed.
To his astonishment, he found he cared.
"We'll take a look around."
"I still think I should I call the cops about the hijacked Unimog and the murder of our paramedic."
"No way. We don't want to warn Massoud we're on the way. He'll know soon enough."
They thanked him and went back outside. Greg whistled for Archer, and sure enough, a minute later the dog bounded up to him. Ahmed emerged from a narrow doorway and ran up to Stoner with a huge smile. He had his father's old AK-47 slung on his back.
"You came back! I knew you wouldn't want to leave her on her own, so I stayed here in case something happened. We can go and see how she is."
"She's gone, Ahmed," he explained.
"Gone? You mean she's dead?" His face crumpled into an expression of sheer misery.
"Massoud has her. We're pretty certain he's back here in Ghazni."
"Massoud? But…"
He explained how the Unimog had set out to transfer her to Jbad, only to fall victim to Massoud on the road.
"So what can we do?"
"First, we have to find her. And them."
His face settled into the expression of stubborn determination he'd become familiar with.
"In that case, I will help."
He smiled. "Sure, I know you will. She can't be far away. It's a small town."
"Archer will help," he asserted, "He can follow a scent through anything. He is a United States Marine dog," he said proudly. "All we need is something that belongs to the person we are searching for, and he will locate it. An item of clothing, anything."
Greg looked up from where he'd been patting his dog, both of them enjoying their reunion. "We don't have any clothing, Ahmed. There's nothing. We'll have to do it the hard way."
"No. We have this." Stoner held up the yellow wristband, "Marina wore it in the hospital."
Ahmed took the band and showed it to the dog. "Archer, seek."
The dog sniffed the scrap of material and padded around in a circle, sniffing the air. The two men grabbed their weapons and waited. After almost a minute, the dog barked twice. His nose pointed toward the town, his tail wagged, and his body seemed to stiffen.
"He has the scent," Ahmed shouted, "We can find her."
He held the dog back while they grabbed for their weapons, Stoner's big M-60 and Greg Blum's Dragunov. He looked a
t the boy.
"You need to stay here, kid. Is your tractor around here somewhere?"
"Parked around back."
"Make sure it's ready to leave. This'll be over soon."
"But, I can come with you. I have my AK-47. There are only two of you, and Massoud may have other men in the town. Let me help you."
He was almost in tears, begging them to allow him to go with them.
"You stay here. This is no job for a kid."
He was still shaking his head in disbelief, when Greg took hold of his dog and gave the order.
"Seek, Archer. Seek."
The dog raced away in a straight line, away from the hospital and into town. Like a guided missile, locked onto target.