The Noble Path: A relentless standalone thriller from the #1 bestseller by Peter May (learn to read books .TXT) 📕

the nasal voice of a girl singing some Vietnamese hit song had replaced the daytime chants of the English class: ‘Where is Buckingham Palace?’

Elliot stepped cautiously on to the beach, disturbing dozens of crabs that scuttled off into the night chasing their long shadows. Two tiny canoes no more than five feet long, crudely fashioned from fallen trees, lay side by side at the water’s edge. They were not big enough to hold a man, nor stable enough to remain upright if they could. A flashlight shone in his face, and two figures detached themselves from the shadows of the palms. ‘You Elliot?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where others?’

He couldn’t see their faces. ‘Turn that thing off.’

There was a moment’s hesitation before the light went out. Elliot blinked away the circle of black in front of his eyes. Both men were in their twenties. One had close-cropped hair and a scar on his temple. The other had long greasy hair that flopped over his eyes. The one with long hair glanced nervously, several times, in the direction of the Vien Du. ‘Where others?’ he insisted.

Elliot signalled towards the trees, and Ny and Hau emerged, followed by Serey still clutching her bag.

‘Hurry!’ whispered Long Hair. ‘Police patrol regular.’

The women and the boy fell in behind Elliot. He said, ‘What’s the plan?’

‘Hold on back of boats and swim. Straight out. Three kilometre. Boat waiting. You see light long way in dark.’

Cropped Head strode down the sand to the boats. ‘We help you push off.’

Elliot nodded to Long Hair, indicating that they would follow him. The Vietnamese shrugged and moved ahead.

The water was warm around their ankles as they pushed the boats into the shallows. Elliot remained standing at the water’s edge. ‘You go,’ Long Hair urged. ‘Quick.’

‘We’ll go when you’ve gone,’ Elliot said.

The two Vietnamese exchanged glances. ‘Okay,’ said Cropped Head. They moved reluctantly away from the boats, towards the beach. Long Hair grinned at Hau and held out his hand.

‘Good luck.’

Hau took the hand and was jerked suddenly, almost off his feet. The Vietnamese reeled him in like a fish on a line, clamping a hand over his mouth and pulling the back of the boy’s head to his chest. A blade flashed in the dark and pressed into the soft flesh of his neck. A trickle of blood appeared. Elliot stepped quickly back as the other man produced a long, thin-bladed knife from the folds of his tunic. Serey choked back a scream and grasped her daughter’s arm.

‘What do you want?’ Elliot’s voice remained steady and calm.

‘Open the bag.’ Cropped Head’s knife was shaking in his hand.

Elliot snatched the bag from Serey.

Long Hair tensed. His eyes were wild. ‘I kill the boy!’

Elliot threw the bag up on to the sand. ‘Open it yourself.’

Cropped Head moved cautiously past him, keeping a safe distance, then ran up the beach to the bag. ‘I don’t know what you hope to find,’ Elliot said. ‘I told Bao we had nothing.’

Long Hair grinned. ‘Maybe Fat Bao believe you. Maybe not. We not. You Westerner. Got money there, maybe gold.’

Elliot shook his head. ‘And what about the boat waiting out there – if there is a boat?’

‘Boat waiting, okay. You disappear. Drowned maybe. Too bad.’

Elliot’s hand slipped inside his shirt, and pulled the Colt .45 into a two-handed grip. He knew he had only one shot. The bullet punched a hole through Long Hair’s forehead, propelling him backwards on crumpled legs to splash into six inches of foaming brine and turn it briefly pink. Elliot swivelled to face the kneeling Cropped Head, who looked up in stunned surprise from the upended bag and had hardly an instant’s blink of disbelief before Elliot shot him full in the face.

Serey and Ny splashed forward to pick Hau out of the water where he had fallen. He clutched his neck, blood oozing through his fingers. Elliot reached them in three strides and pulled his hand away to look at the wound. ‘Just a cut. He’ll live. We’ve got to get out of here!’

The singing coming from the direction of the Vien Du had stopped. A flashlight raked across Religion Hill, and there came the sound of raised voices. There was no going back now. And if they missed their rendezvous at sea, they were certain to drown.

Elliot threw Serey’s bag into the nearest canoe and they pushed the two boats off into the shallow swell. ‘I can’t swim,’ Serey whispered to him, as they plunged waist-deep through the water.

‘Jesus!’ Elliot said. ‘Now you tell me! Just hang on and kick with your feet. If you keep holding on you won’t sink.’

Ny and Hau had surged ahead, hands grasping the rear lip of their canoe, feet kicking up luminescent foam in the dark. When he was certain Serey had a firm grip, Elliot pushed hard away from shore and their canoe slid through the water in pursuit.

They kicked hard at first, seeming to make little progress, until Elliot glanced back and saw that they were already five or six hundred metres from shore. They had cleared the rocky outcrop, and away to their left they could see the lights of the French hospital ship anchored in the bay. Flashlights twinkled on the shore behind them, wielded by shadowy figures running along the water’s edge. Aimless shots rang out in the dark.

Soon the sound of water breaking on land faded, and the rocky silhouette of Bidong took shape against a night sky brightly lit by the moon rising from behind the island. Ny and Hau were about ten metres ahead, and drifting further away to the left. From time to time they disappeared completely beyond the rise of the swell. Elliot called to them to stay close. They must not lose each other. He glanced at Serey and saw that she was tiring rapidly, the strain in her arms showing on her face. He was, himself, close to exhaustion.

‘Stop!’ he shouted. ‘Stop!’ And he hooked an elbow over the rim of the canoe and hung loose,