66

The sound of the Mercedes’ engine rumbled ominously as it traced a circular path, avoiding the sunken channels and frameworks of the slides. Danny looked again at the four-storey volcano that served as the centrepiece of the park. The rumbling of the engine provided the momentary illusion of the volcano preparing to erupt. But the faux volcano served another purpose. Many parks housed the essential water pumps, generators and maintenance bays inside and under such constructions. It would provide both cover and an opportunity to strike back effectively.

He and Clay ran at a pace a little faster than jogging speed, cutting through the foliage in a straight line. Danny had abandoned the now empty AK47, instead carrying one of the stolen 74s.

Clay dropped to one knee, weapon held high, as the sound of the Mercedes’ engine grew louder again. The vehicle was not in sight but the powerful engine echoed from multiple directions. Danny paused and tilted his head to one side, eyes closed, but he couldn’t identify from which direction the rumbling came. The SUV seemed to be circling them like a jungle predator. Tense seconds seemed to elongate as they waited in silence, anticipating gunfire. Then it was quiet again. The vehicle had either moved beyond earshot or the engine had been turned off.

“Keep moving,” Danny prompted. This spurred Clay back into motion. He again set off with his loping run. A dark patch of sweat marked out a wide inverted triangle on the back of Clay’s shirt.

Danny paused at the base of a set of winding steps. The ascending stairs wound their way around a central structure that resembled a pylon. Steps that were designed to let tourists climb to the apex of the tower in order to ride the attached water slide.

An ornate but weathered signpost opposite the slide declared that they were entering the area of the park known as CREEPY CAVERNS. Some twenty feet away from the open stairs loomed a faux cave entrance. Pointed stalactites gave the sculptured cave the appearance of monstrous yawning jaws. The outer walls had already been tagged with multicoloured graffiti. A large set of eyes, complete with frowning bushy eyebrows peered over the name “Pez”.

Clay looked back at his brother. He seemed about to ask why Danny had stopped but Danny waved him into silence.

Someone was speaking. The words were indecipherable but the sentiment was unmistakable. The owner of the voice stood some thirty feet away on the footpath that led to both the caverns and the ride steps.

The man looked almost identical to the other suited gunmen they had already encountered. Thick-necked, severe haircut, hard eyes and an AK held at port arms. In his left hand he held a cell phone. The man was nodding and looking from side to side as he talked. With a final affirmation he ended the call and started towards the steps.

Danny felt sure he knew what the man was going to do: he was heading for the high ground so that he would be in a superior position from which to spot the targets for the remaining soldiers in the Mercedes. It was Warfare 101.

Danny scowled. He wasn’t about to let that happen. He eased himself from his position of cover and as the man moved closer Danny lined him up in the sights of his weapon. The gunman was looking upwards to the top of the tower.

The stock of the Kalashnikov was cool against the right side of Danny’s face. The distinctive smell of the weapon filled his nose. He stayed close to the structure, motionless, not wanting to give the approaching man any chance to retaliate.

The man stepped closer. Danny aimed between two of the horizontal steps. The gap was a little more than eight inches. More than enough.

Another step closer.

“Danny!” Clay’s voice cut through the air as another of the gunmen, grim-faced and determined, sprang from cover from atop the entrance of the cavern and immediately opened fire. Only the rising blur of motion in Clay’s peripheral vision prevented Danny from being shredded by the onslaught.

Clay returned a volley as Danny ducked back behind the protection of the stanchion post. The man on the top of the cavern dodged to one side as he switched his aim towards Clay. Both men exchanged a three-round burst, like furious boxers using the jab to test out the other’s defences.

Danny couldn’t see the first man anymore. Ducking low and making himself as small a target as possible, he scooted back to his left. The gunman had not moved towards the cavern entrance—too much ground to cover. He could have retreated but Danny had seen many of their ilk. These men did not run away. That left one option. The man was trying to flank them and he had moved fast. Danny knew he would hit them from a side-on position. It was a classic pincer movement taught to every soldier during basic battlefield training; engage the enemy from the front and while their attention was held, bite into them from their blind side.

The surrounding bushes and trees were desiccated but were still dense in parts. More than dense enough to conceal a stealthy approach. Danny hefted his rifle. How many rounds were left? Probably not enough. Danny moved.

Another flurry of bullets cut the air between the cavern crest and Clay, who had moved up the side of the pathway. Danny risked a glance in Clay’s direction. He was working his way backwards in a semi-crouch. Clay hopped over a crop of low bushes and moved behind a seven-foot-high dolmen. The man on the top of the cavern would not be able to see him.

Clay shouted, “Danny, you okay?”

But Danny was gone.