“If anybody’s got a great idea,” Kate said, “now would be the perfect time to share it.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
As soon as the door to the “box” was opened, they saw Professor Lewis, a man having the worst day of his life. “Oh, thank God above,” he said, rushing toward them. “I never thought I’d get out of here.”
“You’re not,” Rolf said. “But at least you’ll have some company now.”
Quentin, Jake, Nick, and Kate were all pushed forward into the center of the room. It wasn’t hard to see how the room got its name. It was a perfect cube, with the same high windows they’d seen in Egger’s hall, six feet off the ground to keep out the blowing sand. But these particular windows all featured three metal bars, like a jail cell from the Old West.
“We’ll be back as soon as Herr Egger is ready,” Rolf said. “In the meantime, you can all decide who goes first.”
“Just hold on,” Nick said, coming back to stand next to Rolf. “Can we talk about this for a minute?”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Mr. Fox.”
Nick draped his arm around Rolf’s shoulder and leaned toward his ear. “See, here’s the thing, Rolf. We haven’t even signed our contracts yet. And this dressing room is just not going to cut it. We’re going to need a full buffet table. With a wet bar.”
Rolf smiled at him. “You no longer have to worry about who goes first. It’s going to be you, my friend.”
“Oh, and a big bowl of M&Ms,” Nick said, “with all of the brown ones taken out.”
Franz stepped forward, picked up Nick, and threw him back into the middle of the room. The door slammed shut behind them.
“If I find any brown ones in there,” Nick called after them, “I’m going to be pissed!”
Nick turned around and showed everyone the black Iridium satellite phone he’d just picked from Rolf’s pocket, then tossed it to his father. “You better hurry up and call Duckie,” he said, “before Rolf notices this is missing.”
* * *
When Quentin was done with the call, he handed the phone back to Nick. “He tried to follow us in Morocco,” Quentin said, “but he lost us when we crossed the border.”
“How soon can he get here?” Nick asked.
“He’s tracing our signal. He’ll be here as soon as he can.”
“I need something a little better than that,” Nick said. “Did you hear what Rolf said? I’m first.”
Jake glanced over and noticed that Professor Lewis had gone over to sit in the corner by himself. He went over to him and kneeled down next to him. “Professor Lewis, are you okay?”
“I tried to fight them off,” Lewis said. “I really did. But there were three of them, including the big one! The worst part was sitting next to Egger on the plane. He’s quite brilliant, you know, but also quite barking mad.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Jake said.
Nick went over to the door and inspected the lock. “I could probably open this,” Nick said. “But then what?”
“We could steal one of the vehicles,” Kate said.
“Those are on the opposite end of the compound,” Nick said, “but you’re right, that might be our only shot if Duckie doesn’t get here in time.”
* * *
A full hour passed. Nick and Kate were sitting together against a wall. Quentin and Professor Lewis were sitting against the opposite wall. Jake was pacing back and forth like a caged animal.
“He’s making us wait,” Kate said. “It’s a power trip.”
“Like an interrogation,” Nick said. “Remember how long you made me wait before you finally came in to question me?”
“That seems like a lifetime ago right now,” Kate said. “But yes, I remember.”
Quentin got to his feet and went to stand next to Jake, who was staring at one of the high windows. “I don’t think we’re getting out that way,” he said.
A low, half-whispered voice from outside answered. “You always were a pessimist, Quentin.”
“Duckie! How did you get here so fast?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. You’ll have to see for yourself.”
They all watched as a hand appeared at the window. It grabbed one of the bars and rocked it back and forth. The bar moved slightly in the old masonry. The hand disappeared for a moment and a thick rope was fed through one side of the window, looped across all three bars, then back out the other side. There was a low guttural sound as the rope was suddenly pulled taut. Something not human.
“Easy!” Duckworth said, in a hushed voice. The rope went slack again, then taut, then it started to pull, hard, on the bars. One bar snapped free, then the second, then the third. The window was open.
At the same time, they heard footsteps outside the door.
“You first,” Nick said, putting his hands down to make a step for Kate.
She grabbed the edge, lifted herself up, and climbed through. Nick did the same for the professor, leaving Jake and Quentin to debate who would go next.
“We could all just stay here and get killed,” Nick said. “Let’s go! Dad, you first!”
Quentin took the step from Jake’s hand, climbed through the window. Jake followed.
The noises outside the door were getting louder. Someone was about to enter the room. Nick looked up at the window, jumped, caught the edge of the window, and pulled himself through, just as the door opened behind him. A submachine gun strafed the wall.
Nick jumped to the ground. When he stood up, he saw six camels. On top of each was a local Sahrawi, dressed in a brightly colored, long-flowing djellaba. Duckworth, Quentin, Jake, Kate, and Professor Lewis were already on board five of them, holding on tight behind the drivers. That left one for Nick.
“Jump on!” Quentin said. “Let’s go!”
Nick ran and jumped again, grabbing the Sahrawi’s hand to help himself up, and then they were off. The camels headed south, away from the compound, moving surprisingly fast.
A minute later, Kate heard the sound of gas-powered vehicles. As she looked back, she saw the first of the Desert Patrol Vehicles, or DPVs. They were essentially souped-up dune buggies that often carried heavy armament. As the DPVs got closer, Kate was relieved not to see any .50-caliber guns riding on top, but the man in the passenger seat of the lead vehicle leaned out and tried to spray them with his submachine gun. The DPV was bouncing up and down on the rough terrain, enough to keep his fire wildly erratic, but one smooth stretch of sand and they’d all be sitting ducks. Or rather sitting camels.
“They put the bombs in the sand,” the man driving Kate’s camel said, with remarkable calm. “What do you call them?”
“Land mines?”
“Yes, the land mines. They put them in our ground. They hide them in the night. But we watch them.”
On cue, the man turned his camel hard to the right, at the same moment that every other driver made the same maneuver. The animal responded with more dexterity than anything weighing over a thousand pounds should have, and Kate had to grab the driver’s waist to avoid falling off. As she looked back, the DPV kept on a straight line for another few yards, until, with an earsplitting bang, the sand erupted beneath the wheels, sending the vehicle twenty feet in the air.