He reached over and opened the doors.

Beatrix and the man ran full pelt to the car.

She almost threw Faik into the rear seat, yelling “Go!” as she stood on the sill.

He stamped on the gas and the SUV sped away.

Gunfire clattered in their direction, but none of the rounds found their mark. Beatrix returned fire, and then, as they moved out of immediate range, she slid inside and slammed the door closed.

“Who was that?”

“Who was what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Faulkner. Who fired the RPG?”

“Pope.”

The dial topped fifty and then sixty as Faulkner aimed away from the prison. He hammered the brakes as they approached a sharp turn, the sudden deceleration throwing them all towards the front of the car and then to the side as he yanked the wheel to the right.

“He’s here?”

“He thought it might be a good idea to have a little extra backup.”

“You didn’t think to tell me?”

“He told me not to.”

“Why not?”

They reached a junction with the main highway. Faulkner bullied his way out into the flow and then slotted out into the outside lane, flooring the pedal again.

“Why not?” she repeated.

“I don’t know,” Faulkner said. “You’ll have to ask him. He’s driving West and your boy back there to Kuwait.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Faulkner drove them out to the shantytown on the edge of the oilfields. Faik was quiet throughout, occasionally dabbing a tentative fingertip to the bruises on his face or squinting out into the sunlight as the sun dipped down over the horizon.

“Is my sister okay?” he asked, finally.

“She is.”

“How do you know her?”

“She helped me out. I’m returning the favour.”

“Did she tell you what happened?”

“To your mother? Yes, she did. I’m sorry.”

“The men who did it. Nothing will happen to them. They will do it again, too. They are not police. They are not military. It does not matter. The law does not apply to them.”

“Some laws do,” she said.

Beatrix ejected the magazine from the FN F2000 and examined it. She had fifteen rounds left.

“They will come for me now,” he said. “They know where I live. My sister will not be safe.”

She propped the gun in the footwell and turned all the way around. “You have family in Kuwait, don’t you?”

“Yes. An uncle. But it is irrelevant. How can we leave the country? We have no papers, no money, no anything. We would . . .”

“I’m going to arrange it all for you.”

“Why . . . ?”

She looked squarely at him. “You need to get your sister, pack whatever you need and then go. You’re right. They will come after you. They’re probably working out who has gone missing now. They might even be on their way. We need to go as soon as we get Mysha.”

“You will help us?”