Under a Siena Sun (Escape to Tuscany #1) - T.A. Williams

Prologue

Lucy knew it was time to leave when a burst of machine-gun fire smashed the windows and tore through the tin roof of the clinic. They had been hearing sporadic gunfire for hours now, gradually approaching, but this was the closest by far. As pieces of molten metal and glass showered down into the room, she took refuge under the operating table and clenched her teeth to stifle the scream that had been building inside her. She was bathed in sweat, partly because of the high temperature here in the tropics and partly, she knew full well, out of sheer unadulterated terror. She glanced across at Nicole and Geneviève, both huddled together under the worktop, between the steriliser and the drug cabinet. They looked as frightened as she felt.

‘You okay?’ She was surprised to hear her voice sounding, not normal, but not nearly as raucous as she had feared. She saw Nicole nod and did her best to offer them both some reassurance. ‘The helicopter should be here any minute now.’

‘As long as it doesn’t get shot down.’ Geneviève had always been a glass half-empty sort of girl.

Lucy managed to produce a little smile. ‘Don’t worry, Geneviève, it’ll come. I’m sure.’

‘And if it doesn’t?’

And if it doesn’t? For a few seconds, Lucy’s resolve faltered and she allowed herself to consider the fate that might await them if help didn’t come in time. She had seen enough of the horrific results of violence perpetrated upon women in this war-torn part of Africa by both sides in the conflict to have no illusions as to what to expect. The red cross on her T-shirt would cut no ice with the men with the guns and machetes, many of them hopped up on drugs. It took a massive effort of self-control to relegate these thoughts to the back of her mind – for now.

The radio crackled into life and she crawled across the floor towards it, doing her best to avoid the broken glass and jagged pieces of metal littering the floorboards. She picked up the microphone and pressed Transmit.

‘Hello, Kisangani, this is Mabenta Clinic, Mabenta Clinic. Come in, Kisangani. Can you hear me? Over.’

‘Reading you loud and clear, Mabenta.’ She recognised the voice coming out of the loudspeaker. She and Sergeant Chaudhary of the UN Peacekeeping Force had never met, but they had spoken so often she already thought of him as an old friend. ‘Helicopter will be with you imminently. Be ready to leave as soon as you see it. Over.’

Lucy shot a glance across the room towards the two nurses to check that they had registered the message and pressed Transmit once again. ‘Message received, Kisangani and thank you. Tell your men there’s a machine gun not far away. We’re under fire. Over.’

‘Message received, Mabenta. Appropriate action will be taken.’ His voice became a bit less formal. ‘Not much longer, Lucy. Hang in there, you’ll be okay. Out.’

As she dropped the receiver back on the floor, Lucy thought she could hear something. Still on her hands and knees, she made her way to the door and very cautiously pulled it open. As she did so, there was sudden deafening roar and an attack helicopter came past fast and low, its rotor blades almost skimming the rooftops. As she clasped her hands to her ears, its cannons opened up on targets in the trees barely a few hundred yards away and the whole building reverberated with the noise.

As it disappeared from sight, another helicopter appeared in its wake, this time the more utilitarian type they had come to recognise over the months they had been here. The side door was open and she could see a soldier wearing a light blue UN helmet standing there, gripping a machine gun mounted on a bracket. The MONUSCO logo of the United Nations was clear to see on the side of the helicopter and she heaved a heartfelt sigh of relief. She waved and received a wave in return. The pilot was clearly in a hurry as he jerked the nose up to reduce speed and then dropped like a stone towards the open courtyard.

Lucy turned back towards her two companions.

‘Come on you two. We need to get out of here right now.’

Nicole and Geneviève needed no prompting. As the dust cloud thrown up by the rotors came swirling towards them, reducing visibility to a few feet, they rushed out and ran madly in the direction of the noise. Lucy swung her little bag onto