The Tata’s head-lights carved through the inky darkness in front of us.Sherry kept her head down and didn’t breathe a word.The Tata’s indicators kicked off and it turned to the right. Wooden benches and tables were dotted about the desert. It was some kind of picnic site. The Tata’s headlights raked the length of the white GMC Suburban and then stopped beside it. Dex got out and climbed onto the back of the truck to untie our crate. Red Ken opened the two doors at the back of his wagon.I pulled in behind the truck, so Dex could keep an eye on Sherry, and got out to help.It wasn’t long before our crate, still on its pallet, was being slowly hoisted into the back of the GMC. A set of headlights moved along the main and swept over us. They kept on going.Dex manoeuvred it to just above the level of the rear sill. Red Ken positioned the roller, a short length of scaffolding pole, and we pushed the suspended crate until about a third of it penetrated the boot space. ‘OK, Dex, lower it.’The suspension groaned as it took Saddam’s weight.
