I shook my head. Later, b.a.s.t.a.r.d could die a slow and painful death, as far as I was concerned, but right now he was here, and Crazy Dave was a million miles away. 'He's our route out of this s.h.i.t! He's got the contacts; he can get us over the border.'

There was nothing Charlie could do to help. His ankle was f.u.c.ked, and the rest of him was falling apart. This one was down to me. I pulled my shirt out of my trousers and half jumped, half tumbled down the slope towards the maelstrom.

The water surged past at a fearsome pace, carrying all before it. Huge branches crashed over the rocks ahead of me.

There was a screech of tearing metal as the Pajero finally lost its grip and thundered downstream. I watched it for about a hundred metres, until the river bent sharply to the left and it disappeared.

And that was where I spotted him. The force of the current had carved out the subsoil for a ten-metre stretch along the far bank, exposing a latticework of tree-roots that gleamed white against the mud, like the ribs of a putrefying corpse. b.a.s.t.a.r.d had his arm hooked through one of them.

He didn't stand the slightest chance of hauling himself up and out of the mud, let alone over the edge of the bank. There was no way I'd be able to either, and I hadn't spent a lifetime on the Big Mac diet.

I could see he was yelling at me big-time, but I couldn't hear a thing above the roar of the water.

I scanned the stretch of river between us. He must have fetched up where he was after being catapulted into it midstream. I'd need to enter the water much further up if I was going to have a chance of hitting the bank before I was swept in the wake of the Pajero, and on around the bend.

I scrambled over the mud thirty or forty metres upstream, past the jagged skeleton of a small wooden footbridge that had been unable to withstand the force of the flood.

I plunged in up to my calves and pushed on, fighting the freezing current until I was up to my waist and the sheer weight of the deluge whipped my legs from under me. I kicked and thrashed, but might as well not have bothered. Nothing I could do would stop me going under.

I went with the flow until my lungs threatened to burst and I started taking on water through my nose and mouth, then somehow managed to kick myself back to the surface.

My head spun and my eyes were streaming, but I caught sight of him again as I fought for breath. Like me, he was struggling to keep his head up, clinging to the tree root for dear life.

The water took me under again and I was suddenly more concerned about sucking in air than getting to the other side.

I wrestled my way to the surface once more, and saw that I was now almost at the far side. I could let the current do the rest.

Seconds later, my fingers closed around b.a.s.t.a.r.d's tree root.

He was cold, disoriented, frightened. He grabbed me, desperate to stay afloat, but only succeeded in pulling me under.

I kicked and jerked my way back up, fighting to keep my grip on the root as the current tore at my legs.

'No!' I kicked out at him. 'Compose yourself, for f.u.c.k's sake! Stop! Stop!' Down at this level, the roar of water was deafening.

I jackknifed away from him, trying to keep him at arm's length. I knew he was panicking big-time, and there was no way I wanted us to head to the bottom of this vortex together.

The bank was steeper than I'd thought. There was a chance I could heave myself out, but it would take a crane to lift him clear.

'We've got to swim back across! I'll help you, but no grabbing... We won't make it if you f.u.c.king lose it, OK?'

He stared at me with glazed eyes, his teeth chattering with cold. 'I can't swim.'

For f.u.c.k's sake.

I scanned the boiling surface of the water on either side of us. The trunk of a pine tree had lodged itself against a rockslide just short of the bend in the river. Its roots faced slightly upstream, creating a V-shaped breakwater. The aluminium rectangle of b.a.s.t.a.r.d's carry-on glinted among the debris bobbing in the slower-moving water at its centre.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d was staring at me wild-eyed. He tried to speak but couldn't.

I let go of the tree root and crashed hard against the fallen pine.

I grabbed the carry-on and flung my free arm over the trunk. I hooked a leg over a branch, but the rest of me still trailed in the river. I let myself be buffeted by the force of the water until I managed to draw breath and heave myself up. I lay there for a moment, my knuckles whitening as I fought to hang on to the handle of the carryon. Then I started to crawl slowly towards the bank.

I hauled myself upright and made my way back upstream.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d saw me coming. 'Get me out of here, now!'

It was like being accosted by 250 pounds of stranded bull walrus.

'Hey! I'm here... Here! Here! What the f.u.c.k's keeping you?' What the f.u.c.k's keeping you?'

For a split second I toyed with the idea of cracking him on the side of the head with the carry-on and watching him float away. Then I gave myself a reality check. If we lost b.a.s.t.a.r.d, we lost our broker. I began to lower myself down the bank and back into the water.

'This is our raft,' I yelled. 'Grip the f.u.c.king thing as tight as you can and don't let go. I'll hang on to you. Now kick... Come on, kick! Come on, kick!'

He nodded obediently but didn't move. The carry-on bounced up and down in the swell between us.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d was experiencing Fear Up big-time at first hand. He couldn't bring himself to let go of his anchor. I punched down hard on his hand to get him to release, and we were away.

I locked my hand on the collar of b.a.s.t.a.r.d's blazer, kicking to propel us out into the current to clear the fallen tree.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d was putting all his energy into keeping his head above water.

'Get kicking! f.u.c.king help me here!'

The signal finally made it from his ear to his brain and he kicked. The current grabbed us and we thundered past the pine tree. The further we travelled, the closer we were being thrown towards the far sh.o.r.e. It was only a matter of time before my boots. .h.i.t the riverbed.

I struggled to my feet and half pulled, half dragged b.a.s.t.a.r.d into the shallows. A few moments later, he was lying beside me on solid ground.

I took off my shirt and T-shirt, and twisted as much water out of them as I could. To make the most of what was left of my body heat, I had to get some air into the fibres. That was what I told myself anyway. The rain soaked them as fast as I could wring them, but somehow the whole process made me feel better.

I put the shirt and T-shirt back on, then knelt to take off my boots. I fumbled to undo the laces with numb, trembling fingers. Finally I wrung out my jeans.

Once I was dressed again, I tucked everything in, trying to minimize the number of ways in which the wind could get to me.

A familiar voice boomed down at us from what was left of the road. 'That was really big of you, lad, but you needn't have bothered.'

I looked up at Charlie and shrugged.

His eyes twinkled. 'I could easily have made do with a carrier bag.'

b.a.s.t.a.r.d lay beside me like a beached whale.

I kicked him. 'Time to move. Check you've still got your ID.'

b.a.s.t.a.r.d dug around and pulled out his wallet.

He gave it a squeeze and fished out the laminated card. 'You really do need me, don't you?' He had the faintest of knowing smiles on his face. 'Well, f.u.c.k you.'

2

The mudslide had demolished the road, leaving little more than a trail of boulders and uprooted trees in its wake. Even if we'd managed to hang on to the Pajero, we couldn't have gone any further.

I slumped down next to Charlie and fought my way back into my jacket. After my Baywatch Baywatch experience, the effort of pushing b.a.s.t.a.r.d back up the slope had almost finished me off. He sat a little way away from us. I hoped he might be suffering from a touch of wounded pride, at the very least, but if he was, he wasn't going to let us see it. experience, the effort of pushing b.a.s.t.a.r.d back up the slope had almost finished me off. He sat a little way away from us. I hoped he might be suffering from a touch of wounded pride, at the very least, but if he was, he wasn't going to let us see it.

In a completely futile display of defiance against the still-torrential rain, he had fastened all three b.u.t.tons on his blazer and pulled up the collar. Amazingly, he'd hung on to both his shoes, and apart from a few bruises, seemed little the worse for wear.

'I've no weapon,' Charlie muttered. 'You?'

I shook my head. 'It was a simple choice: the seven-six-two or you. f.u.c.k knows why, but you won out.'

Charlie grinned, but only briefly. 'Better not hang about, lad. We need to get a move on. Doubt we'll make the border before tomorrow, in this s.h.i.t. The road the other side of town won't be a pretty sight either. So, first stop Borjomi, sort our s.h.i.t out, hit the local Hertz kiosk, and crack on, eh?'

'I reckon we've done about a hundred and thirty odd K, so it can't be much more than twenty to tab. Four or five hours maybe, even with you in Hopalong Ca.s.sidy mode.' I got to my feet and grabbed b.a.s.t.a.r.d by the scruff of his neck. 'I'll grip him; you just keep that ankle moving.'

Charlie set off and I manhandled b.a.s.t.a.r.d to his feet. Normal service had been resumed; he was complaining about everything in the universe. I didn't envy him the next few hours though. Charlie and I were soaked, but at least we had a layer of outdoor wear and, more importantly, we had boots. b.a.s.t.a.r.d was going to have to tab in wet loafers, and they weren't built for it any more than he was. His feet would be blistered to f.u.c.k before we'd gone a thousand metres.

'Time to get going. We've got a little brokering to do, remember?'

b.a.s.t.a.r.d didn't reply, so I gave him a shove. It was like trying to fast-forward a hippo; he didn't budge an inch.

'Time to go, Big Boy.'

'f.u.c.k you!' He obviously liked that phrase. It was his default reply.

'I'm doing you a favour, mate. You're not going to last five minutes out here on your own in that gear, are you?'

We kept on the road, or what we could see of it. Large cracks had opened across it, and water sluiced through them like they were storm drains. We had to move as fast as we could: not only to get to Borjomi as quickly as possible, but also to keep our drenched bodies warm.

I looked ahead of us. Charlie might have been the cripple, but he was doing a whole lot better than b.a.s.t.a.r.d. His body swung from side to side as he tried to compensate for his swollen ankle, but he'd been in this kind of situation more times than he could count. On a tab, you've got to get from A to B, so you just crack on with it. It's pointless worrying about the weather, your physical condition, or how p.i.s.sed off you feel. It doesn't help you make the distance any quicker.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d didn't get it. I guessed I couldn't blame him for feeling sorry for himself, but now wasn't the time or the place. I laid a hand on each of his shoulder blades and pushed.

He was grumbling big-time, but it wasn't helping him much. b.u.mping your gums doesn't get you to where you need to be. The only way you're going to do that is by putting one foot in front of the other as quickly as you can, and if it's not fast enough, then someone needs to come behind you with a cattle prod.

It was like being back in the infantry; I had been pushing or pulling flaking bodies since I was a sixteen-year-old boy soldier, trying to keep the slower guys up with the squad. It was all part of the deal. You moved as fast as the slowest man, but you had to make him as fast as you could. You carried his weapon, carried his kit, encouraged him, took the p.i.s.s out of him f.u.c.king well slung him over your shoulder and carried him if need be, not that I was in any hurry to try that with b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

We'd been going for about an hour, and covered maybe four or five Ks, when Charlie limped off the road and heaved himself under a low fir tree. He lay back on the gra.s.s and stretched out his leg.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d and I closed up on him.

'Thought I'd better hang around for you two larda.s.ses.' He took a series of short, painful breaths.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d couldn't even marshal the strength to move off the road; he just fell to his knees instead, and slid towards Charlie in the mud. It was probably the furthest he'd ever walked in his life, certainly in monsoon conditions and dressed in a blazer and loafers. His head slumped forward, displaying a very nice crocodile-clipshaped bruise.

I left him where he was and went over to the tree.

Charlie was resting the sole of his boot against the trunk, in order to ease his damaged ankle.

I collapsed alongside him. I wasn't going to ask him if he was OK. If the time approached when he couldn't take any more, he'd give me plenty of warning.

Charlie grunted. 'We'd better step up the pace or we'll be stuck out here all night. If he could tab as energetically as he gobs off, we'd be there by now.' His face was lit briefly by one of his stupid grins. 'He's a bit like you, lad; he can talk the talk, but he certainly can't walk the walk.' He liked it so much he shouted a repeat for b.a.s.t.a.r.d's benefit.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d looked up, but either couldn't or didn't want to hear.

I wasn't looking forward to trying to keep b.a.s.t.a.r.d on the move all night. If he couldn't shift his a.r.s.e in daylight, he'd be ten times worse after dark. People like him become uncoordinated; they stumble, they injure themselves.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d looked the part inside a Pod with a coffee machine at his elbow and a wad of tobacco in his hip pocket, but that was about it. He'd boast a good night out, but I didn't want to have to nurse him through one.

I doubted he'd ever gone more than a couple of hours between doughnuts.

I checked Baby-G, which was still chugging along after its dip in the river. It was 3.27, which meant only about another four hours before dark. At this rate, it wouldn't be enough.

Charlie moved his foot off the trunk of the tree and onto my shoulder. b.a.s.t.a.r.d watched, and maybe it made him feel even more like n.o.bby Nomates. He sounded pretty sorry for himself. 'How much f.u.c.king longer in this G.o.ddam s.h.i.t country, man? How far we gotta go?'

'What's the matter, Big Boy?' Charlie watched him fiddle with his soaking wet loafers. 'Never been cold, wet and hungry before?'

I broke into a smile. 'Cold and wet, maybe. Hungry? I don't think so!'

Charlie almost choked with laughter.

'You f.u.c.ks think we'll get there before dark?' b.a.s.t.a.r.d scowled at us as he wiped the rain from his face. 'I don't want to be out in this s.h.i.t all night long, that's for sure. And don't even think about leaving me out here. Nothing's changed. You f.u.c.ks can't get out of here without me. Don't forget it.'

Charlie grimaced as his foot made contact with the ground again. 'Don't fret, Big Boy. We'll push your fat a.r.s.e all the way to Turkey if we have to.'

He hobbled off up the road. I couldn't see his face, but I knew it would be contorting with pain with every step.

I'd have offered myself as a crutch, but he would only have f.u.c.ked me off. He knew as well as I did that he wasn't the priority right now, whatever Hazel might think.

3

I pushed and shoved b.a.s.t.a.r.d for another hour. He was slowing down, without a doubt. It couldn't have been easy shifting that bulk of his; I could almost hear those big wobbly thighs chafing together with every step he took.

We were still following the pipeline scar to the left of the road. The rain was a solid grey curtain.

As we rounded a sweeping bend into high ground, I saw a splash of white about 150 metres ahead of us. I wiped the rain from my eyes and looked again. It was the a.r.s.e end of a van, static beside the road.