Dan blinked in the darkness and raised his head off the pillow, all his senses alert.
There was a moment’s silence, and then a scream and the sound of suppressed gunfire filled the air.
Dan rolled off the bed pulling Anna with him. She woke as they hit the floor.
‘Dan? What the hell?’
‘Shh. The hotel’s under attack.’
‘Wha—’
‘Where are your shoes? Put them on. We’re leaving.’
Dan squinted at the ancient radio alarm clock on the table next to the bed.
Three o’clock in the morning.
The perfect time for an ambush.
Dan crawled across the floor to where he’d discarded his boots, sat down, and pulled them on, then inched across to the window and carefully raised his head above the sill.
The guardhouse on the opposite side of the street appeared deserted, the compound beyond floodlit under a swathe of powerful lights that cast the rest of the road into shadows.
Movement beneath his position caught his eye, and he moved back.
Two men in black fatigues were in the road outside, guarding the front entrance to the building, their hands wrapped around assault rifles.
Dan noticed the way they held the weapons and quickly concluded the men were professionals, unlike Salim’s rag-tag group of followers.
He heard movement in the street below the window and lowered his head as both men turned, their heads snapping round in unison as a figure lurched out of the shadows and began to run from the hotel, towards the UN compound.
‘Shit,’ he murmured, as he realised it was Crawford, trying to escape. ‘Idiot. Why didn’t you just try to hide?’
He grimaced as both armed men brought their rifles up at the same time and fired.
The journalist didn’t stand a chance.
‘Dan?’
He moved back to Anna, who crouched next to the bed, her eyes wide.
‘It’s the Russians, isn’t it?’
‘I think so, yes.’
‘What are we going to do?’
‘Follow me.’
He grabbed her hand and hurried to the door that separated their rooms. Checking the space was clear and the door to the hallway was closed, he hurried to the window and dropped to his knees, pulling Anna down with him.
The window to her room faced the back of the hotel, and if Crawford’s information had been correct, then the Russian team comprised six men – two of whom were out front guarding the street.
‘Won’t the guards at the UN compound help?’ asked Anna.
Dan shook his head. ‘I don’t think the guards are going anywhere,’ he said. ‘The guardhouse was deserted – I didn’t see anyone appear when Crawford started running towards it. I’m guessing whoever was on duty has been killed. It could be a while before anyone discovers them. We’re sure as hell not hanging around to find out.’
He motioned to her to stay down, then moved forward and ran his fingers under the window sash. He closed his eyes, hoped the fitting had been oiled recently, and pulled.
The window slid open easily, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he crouched once more and got his bearings.
Shouting from the floor below reached them, and Anna moved closer. He reached out and squeezed her hand while his mind raced.
There would be at least two men clearing the rooms one by one, a methodical process that would ensure they didn’t miss their intended targets. That meant at least one, maybe two men, patrolling the lower level in case anyone tried to escape.
Which left no-one to patrol the back of the building.
He hoped.
He raised himself on his haunches until he could peer over the window ledge to the ground below.
A sheer drop of several metres yawned before him.
He glanced over his shoulder to the unmade bed, an idea forming.
‘Ever read the Famous Five when you were a kid?’ he asked.
‘Who?’
‘Never mind.’
Dan crawled across the floor, pulled the sheets from the bed and knotted the two lengths together. He tied one end to the leg of a solid wooden dresser that bore the pock-marked scars of cigarette burns across its surface, and then stuck his head out the window once more.
‘All right,’ he said, turning to Anna, ‘you’re out first. When you get to the ground, stay low. I’ll be right behind you.’
He wrapped a length of the material around his forearm, then guided Anna over the sill and held her by the arm until she had a firm grip on the sheet.
Before she began her descent, he leaned over her shoulder, checked the route was still clear, and then nodded.
‘Go.’
She dropped from sight quickly, hand over fist, using her feet to walk down the outer wall. Within seconds, Dan felt the sheet go slack and peered out.
Anna was already scuttling towards the shell of an abandoned car in the shadows.
Dan pulled the sheet to test the knot around the leg of the dresser, then eased himself through the window opening and began his own climb.
He had passed the empty bedroom below Anna’s when he heard a shout.
Above his head, the door to Anna’s bedroom crashed open, a single shot ringing out as the first man burst across the threshold, and Dan realised he was out of time.
He peered down, gauging the drop.
It was only a few metres, but he could still risk breaking an ankle.
‘There’d better be bloody lashings of ginger beer after this,’ he muttered through clenched teeth.
He swore under his breath, and let go.