THE FARM!

Chapter 16

Tearing the guts out of the off-roader, Gus drove the vehicle to extremes, well beyond the capability of the average holiday renter. Breaking into an icy sweat at the realization that Pip might already be dead, he knew that time was of the essence if he ever expected to see his Grandson alive again. Screeching around precipitous hair-pin bends at gut-wrenching speeds he was oblivious of his own safety. After all – what would life be worth, condemned to grief and loneliness? After the sudden death of his beloved daughter, Pip's mother, and then the recent death of his wife and lifelong companion, the boy was his only close relative and all that he had left. What would be the point of anything if he were unable to save him?
His phone was firmly ensconced on the indented rubber facing of the small niche sunk deep into the surface of the dashboard. It emitted radiating blue circles of light from a white encircled dot moving inextricably towards the pinned area of Pip's last known location.
Gus swung off the road, burning rubber and tearing up the loose in-fill; churning up a thick cloud of dust as he chased the pulsating signal. This took him up a steep well-worn track winding ever higher as he bounced along the rutted, pot-holed surface before levelling out onto a flatter region, which appeared to be the approach to some kind of plateau.
As he came up level to the summit he noticed 'them' before they noticed him. A group of swarthy guards all wearing identikit shades and dark green uniforms with rolled up sleeves. Some were puffing away at small grease-stained cigarillos whilst the younger men were sitting on the barrier drinking from those curious glasses normally associated with the drinking of fruit tea. However their general demeanour suggested to Gus, that in this case, the glasses might contain something a little stronger. After a brief moment of confusion the seemingly tipsy guards stood up, made a grab for their weapons, shouted angrily and attempted to wave down the intruding vehicle. Weighing up the situation, Gus didn't fancy his chances of escaping from this motley crew should they get their hands on him? Even if he did manage to do so, vital time would be lost that could mean the difference between life and death for Pip.
Dropping through the gears and flooring the gas pedal, he flung the steering wheel to his right, powering the screaming vehicle to the top of a bank some ten feet or so above the road. He prayed to God that there would be a viable driving surface awaiting him on the other side and not some precipitous drop. Reaching the highest point he gazed down at something resembling the boulder-strewn surface of the moon. 'Well,' he said to himself. 'I've hired an off-roader, so sure as hell I'm gonna go off road.' Charging off into the moonscape he pushed the vehicle to its limits, managing to avoid the larger rocks using sheer driving dexterity. Within minutes the angry barrier guards had scrambled to the top of the stony bank and were desperately raining down fire into the rising tail of thick brown dust that obscured the rapidly departing vehicle.
The nearly spent, but undoubtedly still dangerous semi-automatic fire, hammered against the back windshield, shattering it to a crazy-paving of opaque glass. Gus ducked down to seek the flimsy protection of the seat backs and was just in time to hear a barrage of well-aimed high velocity bullets ripping through the vehicle, instantly shattering the front windshield. Punching a hole in the remaining glass in order to see ahead, he peered over the dash, slowing down in order to avoid hitting the rocks now looming ahead – larger but now thankfully less numerous.
Aware that fewer bullets were now hitting their mark he knew that he was finally moving out of range and calculated that the guards next move would be to run down the bank to the two battered old Defenders he'd seen parked up under the shade of a clump of ancient Carob trees. No match, he thought, for the powerful vehicle he'd fortunately had the foresight to hire.
Soon afterwards, when confident that the immediate threat had passed, he sat upright, slowing the vehicle almost to a standstill in order to get his bearings. Checking his phone, he noticed that it had survived the onslaught and was still active. Attempting to move forward in the general direction indicated, but dependent on the natural lie of the land, he stared ahead with a fixed concentration attempting to find a way through the rough, boulder-strewn terrain.
Driving like this for some fifteen minutes and now confident that he was slowly working his way towards the location indicated by his phone, he soon noticed that he was on flatter ground and getting closer to the target indicated by the dropped pin. He felt sure that it would not be long before he arrived at Pip's last known location. It was then he first noticed a droning hum above the roar of the straining engine. He thought at first that he'd pushed the tortured vehicle too hard and that something had finally given out – a blown gasket or bearing – but then began to suspect that the sound had an external source.
Moments later, catching sight of a dark shape in his rear view mirror, he realized that he could be in serious trouble. Sticking his head out of the window for a clearer view, he recognised the familiar shape of a helicopter – a four-seater and a type that he had trained on and flown regularly when on active military service. He also knew that it was rapidly gaining on him. Not anticipating this development and knowing that he could not outrun it, he nonetheless floored the gas pedal regardless of the terrain ahead. He knew this was a mistake as soon as the vehicle started shaking and lurching around uncontrollably. Seeing the hazard ahead, but just a little too late to take corrective action, the vehicle spun into a small boulder-strewn crater, impacting with full force. Feeling the shuddering metallic crack of the sump hitting solid rock and hearing the engine groan, rasp and then finally give out amid the smell of oil and acrid black smoke; he knew that he was dead meat!
Grabbing his phone from the dashboard, he shoved it into one of the deep pockets of the combat trousers that he habitually wore and hoped he wouldn't be searched before he'd worked out a plan.
The helicopter landed within a few feet of the hissing off-roader and two men stepped out, one brandishing a pistol, the other merely a smart suit and a sickly smile. The man with the smile extended his hand.
"Drummond-Willoughby at your service." He spoke in a friendly way – a friendliness somewhat dampened by the second man pointing a pistol straight at Gus's head.
"Oh dear! You've made a bit of a mess of the rental it would seem. That'll cost you. I hope you've taken out full insurance. Now then, don't make a fuss my dear fellow. Come along with us and I'm sure we'll get on just fine. Then we can get all of this sorted out."
Remaining silent, Gus mentally ran through his options. Surprisingly, and despite his high level of training, he couldn't think of any, other than to do exactly as he was told and to get into the chopper with the so called Drummond-Willoughby.
"Now you just sit in the front seat next to Burak, our pilot, and I'll sit right behind you here with Mehmet. Then we can keep an eye on you. You see, we'll be needing to have a little chat so we don't want anything untoward happening to you."
Gus nodded but didn't say a word. He decided to keep his own counsel. Having taken his seat next to Burak and conscious of the muzzle of the pistol being pressed hard into the back of his neck from behind, Gus settled into the seat with a growing smile on his face. For he had suddenly thought of a viable plan that just might work.