Free The Abrupt Physics of Dying by Paul E. Hardisty Page A

Zimbabwe for a meeting,’ said Medved, waving his hand as if to say it was nothing. ‘Thought we would divert and see how you lot were doing.’ His accent was upper-crust English, public-school intonation laced with arrogance. ‘What’s the point in having a jet if one can’t take a little side trip now and again, eh?’ He flashed teeth. ‘I only have an hour.’
    Parnell introduced Karila, then Clay.
    Medved shook Clay’s hand. They stood eye to eye, the same six foot three. ‘Ah yes, Claymore Straker. I understand you have done good work for us.’ Medved looked across at Karila. ‘I want to do the right thing here in Yemen, Straker, look after the people and the environment. Keep it up.’
    ‘Do the right thing. Look after the people. You can count on us,’ said Clay. It was almost like being back in the Battalion. Parnell glared at him over Medved’s shoulder. Clay shot back a plastic smile and, still clasping Medved’s hand, leaned forward and spoke into his ear.
    ‘My driver, one of your employees, has been taken hostage, Mister Medved, by locals who say we are poisoning their kids. We need to get him back, and we need to look into their grievance.’
    Medved released Clay’s hand, took a step back, stared him in the eyes. For a moment it looked as if he was going to say something. Then he looked away, smoothed his lapels, faced the crowd, and opened his arms wide. Behind him, Zdravko stood impassive, eyes shielded by reflective Raybans, watching, coiled.
    ‘Thank you so much, Mister Parnell, everyone, for such a warm welcome, and for your great efforts over the past year.’ Medved lowered his arms, smiled and nodded at Karila. ‘Our operations are bringing badly needed revenue, jobs and prosperity to Yemen. We are doing good things here. The next few months will be exciting for all of us, and I need not remind any of you of how important our new expansion plans are. Get it done, and we will all share in the benefits.’
    The crowd broke into applause. Medved took a step forward, bowed his head quickly, and stood clapping with the staff. Then he raised his hands. ‘Thank you all. Now, please return to your good work.’
    The crowd began to disperse.
    Medved moved forward, grabbed Parnell’s upper arm. His smile was gone. ‘And now, gentlemen, if I could have a word with the General Manager, please, alone.’ The two men disappeared through the front entrance, a schoolmaster hurrying a naughty pupil to the detention room.
    Karila tapped Clay on the shoulder. ‘What on earth were you doing, Straker? You were supposed to keep quiet. What did you say to him?’
    ‘I told him I wasn’t getting paid.’
    Karila frowned. ‘I’m starting not to like you very much, Straker,’ he said, and strode away after his bosses.

    Clay returned to the company guesthouse late, fresh stitches throbbing in his scalp, his already shortened attention span fractioned by thoughts of Abdulkader. He showered, ate, and went down to the common lounge.
    An F14 Tomcat shot across the television screen, twisting in a dogfight. Missiles fired, jerking heat-seekers trailing white spume. Clay sank into the couch as an enemy plane disintegrated in an orange ball of fire.
    ‘
Top Gun,
’ said an American contractor Clay had seen around in the guesthouse from time to time: Jim, one of the facility engineers. Tall man, lanky, strong Southern accent, a lost-and-found Florida Gators baseball cap permanently grafted to his head, tobacco chewer, pretty much kept to himself.
    Clay nodded to him and put his feet up on the coffee table. Tom Cruise as a fighter pilot. Questionable. Something to help kill the hours, dull the frustration of having to stay put in Aden, deaden the guilt he was feeling. The man who had pulled him unconscious and bleeding from the burning car wreck on the road down from Lawdar only six weeks ago was a prisoner of terrorists, and now he had triggered the one thing Al Shams had warned him against: bringing in the