26
Western Saudi Arabia
The sun was almost blinding. The hood removed from her head. Driver swayed on stiff knees, blinking spots from her eyes in the ferocious heat of the Saudi desert. She’d felt the Shogun roll to a stop and heard the crunch of fine dirt under its wheels. The men inside the Mitsubishi had bundled her out and marched her ten paces before feeling it safe to reveal her surroundings.
As Driver got her bearings, a swirl of sand left its taste on her tongue.
The land was vast and flat. Desert and dunes for miles around. Except, that was, for the complex in front of her. A rusting, sun-bleached sign on a wire fence announced the presence of a provincial jail. Old and abandoned one by the looks of things – a crumbling stone building with two upper floors of barred windows.
