Page 56 of Runner 13

Stella

Emilio looks over Mac’s shoulder. ‘That guy?’

‘Yes! That’s Matthew Knight. You know, the one who has a bloody gun!’

‘But that is not the man who attacked me,’ says the doctor.

It takes a moment for that to sink in. Both Mac and I look at him, slack-jawed.

‘Land the helicopter,’ Emilio says to the pilot, who complies.

‘Please!’ Matthew shouts. ‘I have a woman here who needs help. She has a broken ankle.’

Emilio practically leaps out of the helicopter doors. He is full of energy now. I’m right behind him, but when I see the man, I know that Mac is right. That is runner 501. That is Matthew Knight.

He even looks like Glenn. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. The same eyes. Same stance.

He gestures for Emilio to follow and takes him inside one of the buildings.

I’m hot on their heels. It could be a trap.

But then I see Mariam lying on the ground, her features contorted in agony.

Emilio goes straight to her side, examining her ankle, and Matthew is staring down at them both with concern.

There’s not a trace of anger or revenge in his features.

There’s exhaustion, worry, fear. But it’s not the face of a man who shot my father and is hunting the other runners one by one.

I stare straight at him. ‘You’re Matthew Knight – Glenn’s son.’

He recoils. That’s not what he expects to hear. ‘Who wants to know?’ He’s cagey, tentative. ‘Aren’t you that photographer? Are you a journalist too? I’m not talking to anyone.’

He must know who – what – his father was.

It strikes me how similar we are. Both of us raised by our mothers, taking us away from men who had other appetites. Yet this is also a man who was imprisoned for a violent crime. I can’t exactly trust him.

‘I’m not a journalist. I knew your father. I am Yasmin El Mehdi’s half-sister.’

‘So I suppose I need to apologize to you too.’

I frown. ‘You’re not responsible for what he did.’

He grimaces, then he turns back to Emilio. ‘Are you able to help her?’

‘We need to get back to the bivouac as quickly as possible. Then I can treat her properly. Can you help me carry her to the helicopter?’

I step aside as they lift her to her feet. She winces, unable to put any weight on her bad leg. It’s going to be an uncomfortable heli ride for her.

There’s a commotion at the front of the building. Several vehicles have pulled up. Pete emerges from the first one, driven by Ali. He runs towards us.

From the other vehicles emerge half a dozen members of the S?reté Nationale. They must have been driving like madmen to reach us this soon. They start pointing at Emilio, walking towards him.

‘What’s going on?’ Emilio asks. He’s still supporting Mariam, his grip on her tightening.

‘It’s because of the drugs,’ Pete explains. ‘The ketamine matched what was found in Nabil’s system. We tried to explain that we think you’re innocent, but they want to talk to you.’ Then he gasps. He points at Matthew. ‘That’s Runner 501, the one who shot Boones,’ he says to the closest officer.

‘Boones is hurt?’ Matthew says, his eyes wide.

Even Mariam whips her head around in alarm.

‘No, I didn’t do anything like that. I’ve been running for hours – the last I saw Boones was in the middle of the night two days ago when he put me on a fucking camel and sent me off into the wilderness. I didn’t shoot him, I swear.’

‘He didn’t do it,’ I tell Pete. ‘We can’t let the police take them away.’

Pete pulls his arm away from me. ‘What do you mean?’

‘The person who shot my dad also attacked Emilio. Stole his car and took Rachid hostage. It wasn’t Matthew.’

‘You’re kidding me. Someone else is out there? Someone not Glenn’s son? Then why would they be after Adrienne? Where is she anyway?’

‘We don’t know. But he’s still out there, whoever it is. We still need to find her – get her off the course and out of his path.’

As Emilio hesitates in the doorway of the ruined building, his phone beeps. ‘That’s an emergency beacon,’ he says. He locks eyes with me. ‘Quick, take it,’ he says, as the officers approach. ‘Get to whoever it is.’

I grab the phone from his hand and step back to look at it, not wanting to interfere with the authorities.

Two paramedics take Mariam, helping her on board the helicopter.

The officers surround Emilio and Matthew.

I have half an eye on them but another on the phone in my hand. I don’t know what to focus on.

I trust that they can explain it all, so I focus on Emilio’s phone. It’s not password-locked – its only use is to alert for emergency beacons so it needs to be accessible by anyone. I’m guessing it’s the same with Boones’s laptop. I open the alert system, Pete looking over my shoulder.

‘Is that …?’

My eyes widen. ‘Adrienne’s beacon has gone off.’

‘Thank God! At least we have her location now,’ says Pete. ‘No more fucking about. It’s been driving me crazy thinking of her out there.’

‘We should tell the police.’

‘No,’ says Pete. ‘Let’s get her to safety first.’

I hesitate, but watching Emilio try to reason with the authorities, I can see his point.

We leave the ruins, trying to remain both inconspicuous and yet move at a fast pace.

Emilio’s eyes track me. I give him a small nod.

I have no idea if he will interpret that correctly or not, and don’t have time to worry about it.

I walk straight over to Ali, but he’s been waiting by the car, poised and ready to jump into action. He’s as invested in this as we are. I turn the phone round and show him the GPS location.

Some of the officers of the S?reté Nationale are looking in our direction. I lower my voice and lean in towards Ali. ‘Can we go to this location?’

He nods, turning the ignition. With any luck the police will be too distracted by Emilio and Matthew to worry about a few people leaving. They’ll assume we’re heading back to the bivouac.

They let us go and no one follows. As we drive away, I see the helicopter lift off, Mariam being taken to safety. We drive in tense silence, Pete practically trembling with worry in the back seat. I stare at the phone, at the little dot representing Adrienne.

‘The emergency beacon is a good thing, right?’ Pete says. ‘If she pressed it, it means she’s alive.’

We can only hope. I plug Emilio’s phone in to charge in the car. It’s almost out of battery. These devices aren’t designed to operate in this heat. Out here signal is intermittent too. That’s why it’s such a shock to me when I hear a phone ring.

It’s not Emilio’s, though. It’s Pete’s. It takes a second for him to register that fact too, patting at his pockets until he finds it. He almost fumbles it on to the floor but gets a hold of himself.

‘Hello?’

I shift in my seat, looking at him expectantly.

‘Oh, Henry, hi – what’s going on?’

I grind my back teeth together, listening to only one side of the conversation. I watch Pete’s face.

He frowns. ‘OK. Well. Good to know. No, it doesn’t mean anything to me. Hang on, I’ll ask.’

He looks up at me. ‘Henry says he finished their daily headcount of runners and volunteers, and there’s someone missing. He wants us to look out for them.’

‘Who is it?’

‘Someone called Dale Parker.’

‘Dale is missing?’ asks Ali.

‘Wait, you know him?’ Pete asks.

‘He’s the photographer I was partnered with for the first two days of the race. Hang on, let me show you.’

I take out my camera, scrolling back until I come to the photograph I took of Dale on the first day of the race. Standing atop one of the dunes, looking out at the elite runners.

Pete frowns. ‘I know that guy. His name’s not Dale Parker, though. That’s Steve Parsons.’ He takes my camera and zooms in on the man’s face. ‘But it can’t be. He’s the runner who went missing at Long & Windy. The Steve Parsons I know is dead.’