Killing for the Company

‘You will find Maya?’

‘You got it.’

‘In London.’ His weak voice was hardly audible above the noise of the engine.

‘I’ll find her.’

‘Then leave me.’

Luke didn’t need telling twice. He stretched over Amit’s body, put the vehicle’s transmission into drive, then shut the door and sprinted away from the side of the road. He was at least thirty metres away when he turned to look back.

The Toyota had moved off. It was going very slowly, but it had joined the main carriageway and had started on the final kilometre before the border.

Abu Famir stared at the car. ‘He did this of his own free will?’ he asked.

‘Hundred and ten per cent. A lot of people want you out of the country, my friend.’ He watched the car until it disappeared.

‘Think he’ll make it?’ Finn asked flatly.

Luke sniffed. ‘Probably not,’ he said. ‘He’s pretty fucked up. But even if he goes bang before he hits the checkpoint, it’ll be a diversion.’ He looked due north-west. It was dark, of course, but he’d seen the satellite imagery and he knew there was open ground here. ‘I reckon we’ve got fifteen minutes. Let’s not hang around.’

‘Roger that.’

The three men turned and started to walk across the desert.

Amit shook.

The pain was everything. It was no longer just the wound that hurt. Now it felt as if the pain had seeped into his blood and melted through his whole body. It was all-consuming. So intense that movement or even speech felt like obstacles he could never scale. He wanted it to be over. Finished. Gone.

But through the pain, one thing was clear to him. If he must die, let it be for a purpose. In a corner of his mind he saw a scene of devastation. It was an image that had haunted his dreams since he was a child: the aftermath of a Palestinian suicide bomb on the streets of Tel Aviv, his own parents the victims, torn — quite literally — limb from limb.

If he must die, let it be for a purpose. Not like them.

It took all his strength to clutch the safety levers of the grenades. He steered with his forearms, which had the full weight of his body behind them, but the car required little steering. The checkpoint was straight ahead. He could see it, even though his vision was blurred, but he was too confused to work out the distance. All he knew was that he had to make it, however far it was.

And he had to keep gripping the safety levers.

He couldn’t allow the final remnants of strength to drain from his body too soon…

The rear lights of the cars that passed him drew long, red-neon lines through space. Amit felt as though a mist was gathering all around him. The closer it came, the less strength he had.

A car overtook, the driver beeping his horn at Amit’s slowness. He barely noticed. His concentration was all used up.

How far to the border? Harah, how much further could he last?

Time passed. He had no conception of it.

He saw Maya in his mind. His sister. He saw her as a child, kneeling on the pavement by their mother, shrieks of indescribable grief reaching to the rooftops. And he saw her now. So ruthless. So angry. When she learned what he had done, she would be proud of him. That thought alone gave him a little extra strength. A little extra resolve.

The lights outside were brighter. More numerous. There were people. Uniforms. Men with guns. He removed his foot from the accelerator and pressed the brake a little too sharply. The Toyota juddered to a halt. Ahead of him there was a queue. Three vehicles, perhaps four.

He closed his eyes, panting, trembling. He had to wait until he was closer to the barrier, twenty metres ahead, where he could cause maximum damage. Through the open windows he heard noises. Vehicle engines. Voices shouting harshly to each other in Arabic. Bustle. People. The queue crept forwards. Slowly. So slowly…

There was only one car ahead of him now. His body was shaking even more violently. The strength was leaving his wrists. He mustered his determination and moved one arm down to rest on the ammo boxes on the passenger seat.

The lights were getting dimmer. He could barely breathe — just short, desperate gulps.

The car ahead had moved off. Amit advanced a final few metres towards the barrier.

Figures surrounded the Toyota, shadowy and indistinct. Amit had no idea how many there were. He was past counting. Past caring.

But he knew there were only seconds left.

‘ Barukh atah Adonai, Elokaynu, Melekh ha-Olam,’ he prayed with the last remnants of his breath. ‘ Barukh atah Adonai, Elokaynu, Melekh ha-Olam…’

It wasn’t a conscious decision to let his grip on the detonation levers slip. His strength had come to the bottom of the tank.

Amit didn’t hear the explosion of the grenades, or of the ammunition stash in the passenger seat. He didn’t see the burning white fluorescence that filled the car and burst out of the open windows, or the way the hot phosphorus sprayed over the faces and uniforms of any border guards within twenty metres of the Toyota.