Page 249 of The Black Trilogy

“Sure do. Keep your heads down.”

I held my breath and fired.

Then watched in fascination as the heat-seeking missile decided that it didn’t like the building I’d aimed at and swerved off to the right. It flew on its own path towards a squat warehouse right behind the guards, closer to me than I’d planned.

I dove for cover.

An ear-splitting blast shook the earth, followed by a fireworks display, Syrian style. Holy shiitake mushrooms. The Stinger had hit an explosives store, judging by the mess, and screams mingled with the whiz and pop of various armaments going off as flames leapt high into the night sky.

Well, the good news was the Syrian soldiers no longer seemed to be too concerned with Jed and Logan, from what I could see. They were occupied with trying to put themselves out because quite a lot of them were on fire.

The bad news was the wall of flame blocked my route back to Jed and Logan.

The unmistakable smell of burning flesh filled the air, mixed with the fumes of melting plastic. It got into my throat and made me gag as I dialled Logan again.

“Uh, that went a little more boom than I expected.”

“No kidding. Glad you told us to keep our heads down. A fair few of the Syrians have lost theirs.”

“Are you both okay? Can you escape?”

“Yes, and I think so.”

“Good, just get out. I’ll meet you back at the apartment. Uh, I’m gonna have to go. I think they’ve realised where the explosion came from.”

“I’ll help you.”

“You will not. You’re taking Jed and leaving.”

“But—”

“Or I’ll come back and murder you myself.”

I dove sideways as someone shot at me, and the phone went crunch as I landed on it.

Oh, sugar honey iced tea.

I ran, shooting at the two men chasing me as I went. Thankfully my aim proved more accurate than theirs because I made it into an aircraft hangar and they didn’t.

A pilot in full flight gear stood on the wing of a plane, watching the carnage outside through a grimy window. I took him out with one to the head before he could form a thought. He tumbled from his vantage point and landed in a heap on the concrete.

My priorities had changed. If Logan did as instructed, and he’d freaking well better have, he and Jed would be almost back at the fence by now. Without having to worry about saving them, I needed to switch my attention to staying alive myself. That meant getting off the base.

And it just so happened the quickest way out of there was sitting right next to me.

Judging by the suited-up pilot, I’d come across the Syrian equivalent of a “Ready-Five” aircraft. It would be flight-checked, fuelled, armed, and ready to go. All the Ready-Five needed was for someone to hop into the driver’s seat.

My new best friend was a MiG-21, the most common supersonic jet in the world, flown by air forces on four continents for over half a century. An old design but still a good one. And thanks to Black’s money and his indulgence of my love of flying, one I’d had the pleasure of piloting on the odd occasion.

My brain went into overdrive as I formed a plan on the fly, no pun intended. By my reckoning, I only had a minute or so. With so many people around, it wouldn’t be long before someone noticed me skulking around in here, and then I’d be back at a disadvantage.

In the harsh glare of the strip lights mounted on the ceiling, I took a rapid inventory of the hangar, my eyes sweeping from one side of the grease-marked floor to the other. Two planes in the middle, tool chests on the left-hand side, a battered desk on the right. What was that on the desk? It looked like the pilot’s dinner. And a crate of bottled water sat underneath it. I grabbed the food and as many of the bottles as I could carry and threw them into the nearest cockpit.

On my way to the hangar door, I shot out the tyres on the other plane. I didn’t want anyone following me. Then I hauled on the dirty chain that would open up my escape route, and it slid slowly upwards, inch by creaking inch. They may have maintained the planes, but the buildings not so much. Once I had a path out into the night, I took a running jump and scrambled into the cockpit of my new best buddy. No ticket, no money, no passport. Just a wing and a silent prayer to Loki.

Please let this work, you devious git.

Then I fired up the engines.

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