Exit wound

There was no electricity or water running into the building. It had been left to decay for the past nine years, waiting for Saddam to defeat the Americans and then get down to a bit of DIY on his palace.

‘Nick, make a note of the main drag between us and the target. That’s our route out. Going left, as we look at it now, it takes us south-west out of the city, following the coast towards Abu Dhabi and the RV. Going right, we take the tunnel under the Creek into the old quarter, the gold souk and markets. You got it?’

‘Yep.’

The job was kicking off at last light tomorrow. For Red Ken and me, it would start in a block of public toilets in the old quarter. Dex was going to go local and steal a Tata truck in the same area they’d pinged with a crane attached, much like the ones Jewson’s used to deliver bricks and stuff in the UK.

Red Ken and I would keep out of sight as we moved to the target. We’d lift the crates, load them onto the truck, then take a swift detour to Dex’s GMC Suburban, parked about six K west of the target. After transferring our little insurance policy, we’d take the Tata and the Suburban back to the airport before catching up with Spag at the strip.

Bingo.

It was perfectly simple. Too fucking simple by half.

I reckoned it was time for one or two awkward questions. ‘So, these Gucci gold doors have just been sitting there since the second Gulf War – and nobody knows?’

‘They will when the developers move in. Five years ago this was the Empty Quarter. Now look at it.’

A flood of tourists spilt out of the mall, designer bags bulging with stuff they could have bought back home, and probably for less.

‘Spag said he found out about the doors just after the war.’

‘Yeah, he told me.’

‘Did he also tell you he found the lads who made them?’

‘No, he fucked me off on questions. Told me to ask you.’

Red Ken nearly choked on his next mouthful of nicotine. ‘The guy in charge locked the crates in that building for Saddam to collect as soon as he’d sorted out the Americans.’

‘And the others?’

‘Two of them, apparently. Spag reckons he binned them – permanently – in case they confused the gold with their pension scheme.’

‘Then Spag binned him, and it’s been sitting there ever since?’

Red Ken nodded. ‘Just waiting for the right time.’

‘The right time for Spag, or for some other fucker?’

‘Who knows?’ He checked his watch again. ‘You OK, Nick? Seen enough?’

‘Yeah.’

‘We’ll follow the route backwards to the gold market. See where the weapons are and where Dex will lift the truck.’

We wandered over to the cab rank. Dex jumped into the front of the first available and greeted the driver like an old cricketing companion. We headed down the ramp to meet the white Toyota, three up.

21

We drove towards the Creek about four or five K away. The main drag really was main. Four lanes in both directions cut through the city. It was pointless checking if the Toyota was still behind us. We’d wait until we stopped, just as we did on foot. These guys weren’t complete amateurs. They must have had some training or they’d have stayed with us on the mall roof. But if they were internal security, police, whoever, why tag us? Was it because we’d been with Spag this morning? Maybe they’d been following him, seen us meet and decided to find out who we were and what we were doing.

Whatever, I didn’t like it. The job felt compromised before we’d even begun. A big part of me wanted to get these lads to call the whole thing off, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

We fell silent as we thought about the job and the Toyota. Well, maybe just Red Ken and I did. I had no idea what was going on in Dex’s head. But then neither did he.

We drove through the tunnel and followed the Creek towards the sea. Knackered old dhows were parked five and six deep all along the harbour front while their crews unloaded fridges and all sorts straight onto the pavement.

Dex gave the driver a tap on the shoulder. ‘We’ll stop here, chappie. Thank you very much.’

Red Ken and I got out and left Dex to pay. The Toyota passed us and disappeared down a side turning. The lads would be jumping out any minute to keep with us. We both checked to see if any other cars were doing the same. Maybe they had a team with us, or maybe they’d split when we were all pinged together at the golf course this morning. We did the tourist bit, watching the locals work their arses off unloading and then dicing with death as they barrowed everything, including the kitchen sink, to the shops on the other side of the road.

The sun cast long shadows as it began to bin it for the day. Lights were already on in the shops. Street signs flickered into life, and I started to feel the energy of the place. Night-time was when Dubai began to hop. Who but dickhead tourists wanted to wander around in the sun?

Red Ken tapped my shoulder. ‘There’s the subway. Get into the toilet block and do your stuff. We’ll wait here, see if the team have pinged us yet.’