He charged out through the doorway with a forward roll—luckily, as a bullet split the air where his head would have been had he been upright. The gun fired again from the center of the courtyard and he spotted the muzzle flash coming from inside a dark Ford Mustang. He snapped into the kneeling two-handed firing position, squeezing off three shots at the open car window. Without waiting for return fire, he ran to the car and opened the door. A body slumped out, its head shattered and pulpy, like a split-open melon. He pulled out the body, started the Mustang and slammed it into gear. He was already rolling as he pulled the car door shut, bullets buzzing into the wing like metal wasps.

Automatic fire turned the rear windshield into a dense white spider’s web. He ducked his head and hit the gas, aiming for the locked steel courtyard gate. As he smashed through the gate he heard a roar behind him as a big white Mercedes started in pursuit. The road was a narrow black tunnel, the hot air roaring through the windows. Insects spattered against the windshield like brown rain as he tore through the darkness.

He risked a glance out of the window behind him. The house where they had held him was floodlit, a giant white marble slab that looked like a modernistic tomb, and he shuddered. Nuruddin’s? He wished he knew where the hell he was. The Mercedes was closing up fast, sparks of light popping from the side window like a series of flashbulbs, and he floored the accelerator. The Mustang’s transmission whined and then surged into high gear. He glanced at the tachometer and the fuel gauge. It was half full, which gave him a little added lightness, yet provided him with enough fuel to go around the island twenty times, if he knew where he was going. Then out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the lighted gantry that was the BAPCO refinery and the reflection of the big dish of the Earth-satellite station far off to the left, so he knew he must be somewhere near Awali. Unless he could get away soon, he would find himself on the beach at the end of the island with nowhere to go. He glanced back again, almost swerving off the road. The Mercedes was only a few yards behind.