Читать книгу Terror Trail - Don Pendleton - Страница 15

CHAPTER NINE

One of Kerim’s followers was the camp’s medic. Through Kerim the man was ordered to tend the beaten American. The terrorist did as he was told with a sullen attitude. He was of the opinion that Lang should be left to die, but his allegiance to Hand of Allah dictated he obey whatever Shaia Kerim instructed.

James unlocked the cage and Lang was brought outside and propped against the bars. The binding cord was removed from his wrists. He was still barely conscious and the beating had left him slightly concussed. In the time since the assault his face and body had begun to show the extent of the attack’s brutality. When the blood and sand was cleaned from his face James was able to see how badly bruised the man was. Great blue-and-yellow swellings distorted his cheeks and eyes. His flesh had split in a number of places. When the medic opened his shirt Lang’s body showed similar discoloration. The way he winced when his ribs were checked suggested some were either badly bruised or possibly cracked.

As he worked on Lang the medic carried on a mumbling litany of Arabic. James was unable to understand what the man was saying. The vicious tone in the man’s voice told James it was nothing pleasant.

His work completed, the medic gathered his kit and left James with Lang. James had brought food and water for the CIA man. He raised a flask and tried to give Lang a drink. Most of the water dribbled down Lang’s chin, but some slid down his throat. When James leaned back he saw that Lang’s eyes were open and staring at him.

“What’s this for?” Lang asked. “Strengthening me up for round two?”

“No. I want you ready for when we get out of here,” James replied.

“You want me to run so you can shoot me in the back? What is it with you bastards? Not enough guts to kill a man face to face?”

“I can’t answer for Kerim’s men. I’m not one of them. Name’s Roy Landis. Undercover while I try to dig out information on Hand of Allah.”

The CIA agent offered a cynical smile that looked all the more grotesque because of his swollen face.

“Sure. And I should take your word for that?”

“They see through my cover we’ll be sharing this cage.”

Lang’s gaze flickered over James’s shoulder, and James picked up the sound of someone coming up behind him. He saw a shadow on the sand to his right.

“Is he still alive, my brother?” James recognized Kerim’s voice.

“By Allah’s good grace the infidel has not died. Praise be to Allah the merciful.”

Kerim made a sound in his throat and strode by.

“So why is everyone speaking English?” Lang asked. He stared at James through his good eye. “Is this some kind of psychological trick to get me on your side?

“They’re all speaking English to get familiar with the language. There’s a series of strikes being planned by these guys on American soil. I need to find out about them.”

James maneuvered Lang back into the cage. He placed food and water next to the CIA agent.

“One of us is crazy,” Lang muttered. “I’m still trying to figure out whether you’re screwing with my head.”

James managed a quick grin through the bars as he locked the door of the cage.

“The rest of my team is waiting for a call to bring them boiling in here. You want to see crazy? Wait until that happens.”

“What agency are you with?”

“Not one you’ll find on any list,” James said. “But we get the job done. Lang, be patient. This might take time.”

“Well, you’ve given me plenty to think about. Not like I’m going to have much else to do.”