An expression of fury appeared on the German's face, but by a supreme effort of will, he controlled his anger. He bowed stiffly, brushed aside the tent flap, and went out, Muller at his heels.
Jordan emitted an audible sigh of relief and Kane turned to Mahmoud. 'What now?'
The old sheik smiled. 'I think it best if she returns to her tent and stays there under guard until our friends leave.'
'May I speak to her first?' Kane said.
Mahmoud nodded. 'For a little while only.' He touched Jordan on the shoulder and led the way outside, leaving Kane and Marie alone.
She came into his arms and he held her close for a little while, and then they sat down. Kane was suddenly tired - really tired. 'Have you got any cigarettes?' he said.
She took a crumpled pack from her shirt pocket and gave him one. He inhaled and gave a sigh of content. 'That tastes good.'
She reached over and smoothed back his hair. 'You look as if you've been having a pretty thin time.'
'I guess you could call it that.'
'Tell me about it.'
He gave her a brief outline of events, and when he had finished, she gave a sigh of relief. 'I'm glad the Cunninghams are all right. What are you going to do about Skiros and Muller?'
'What can I do? Mahmoud will hold us here after they've left, or I miss my guess. He owes them that much if they've been supplying him with guns. One thing I can't understand is why Skiros decided to leave the valley in such a hurry. What happened?'
'I don't really know,' she said. 'He was on the radio for a long time after the fighting was over. When he came down into the camp, he was very angry. He had a long argument with Selim. Afterwards, he said we'd be leaving at dawn.'
'He was probably in touch with his superiors in Berlin to tell them about the loss of the plane,' Kane said. 'They must have got into a panic. After all, if he was caught and his true nationality disclosed, there'd be hell to pay. They most likely told him to get out - and fast.'
'I hope we never see him again,' Marie said.
Kane held out his hands and she clasped them tightly. 'At least one good thing's come out of all this,' he said. 'I know when I'm licked.'
She came into his arms and they kissed briefly, then the tent flap was thrown back and Mahmoud appeared. He stood to one side and Marie brushed past him.
The old Bedouin smiled. 'You look tired. I suggest a long sleep. I'll have you taken to your friend. We'll talk later.'
Kane went out into the bright sunlight and a man led the way through the encampment. Eyes turned on him curiously and several small children ran at his heels all the way to the tent, which was on the outskirts of the camp. When he ducked in through the entrance, he found Jordan sitting cross-legged on a rug in the centre, eating from a can.
'You look terrible,' the geologist said cheerfully.
Kane managed a tired grin and flung himself down on a sleeping pallet in one corner.
Jordan was still speaking, but the words didn't seem to be making any sense. After a while, they were simply a monotonous drone, and Kane was asleep.
He awakened slowly and lay staring into the gloom. It was night and an oil-lamp hung from the pole above his head, its radiance scattering the shadows from the centre of the tent.
Jordan was sitting near by, cleaning his revolver. As Kane moved, he turned and a smile appeared on his face. 'How do you feel?'
'Out of this world,' Kane said, struggling into a sitting position.
Jordan handed a bowl across. 'You'd better have something to eat.'
Kane pushed balls of boiled rice and pieces of goatmeat into his mouth and discovered he was hungry. 'Has anything been happening?'
Jordan shook his head. 'Quiet as the grave. You've been lying there for about eight hours.'
'Have our friends left yet?'
'They were on the other side of the camp. I suppose the old boy arranged it that way. I heard them drive off a couple of hours ago. What do you think they'll do?'
Kane shrugged. 'Make straight for Dahrein, hoping to get clear before we notify the authorities.'
'Are you going to try to stop them?'
Kane shook his head. 'I don't think so. I'll be glad to see the back of both of them. They're finished round here, anyway.' He got to his feet and stretched. 'Let's call on Mahmoud.'
He brushed back the entrance flap, walked out into the cool night and led the way down through the quiet camp to Mahmoud's tent.
They found the old sheik sitting cross-legged on a sheepskin before the fire, smoking a Turkish cigarette, eyes boring into the heat of the flames.
He greeted them with a smile. 'So, you have recovered, my friend,' he said to Kane.
Kane sat down beside him. 'I understand Skiros and Muller have left?'
The old man nodded. 'I promised them I would hold you here for a day. I owed them that much at least.'
'Skiros was a German,' Kane said. 'Was it wise to have dealings with such a man?'
Mahmoud smiled. 'Your friend represents an American oil company. If he finds oil, how long will it be before we receive the benefits of so-called American aid?'
'Would that be such a bad thing?' Jordan said.
Mahmoud shrugged. 'In Oman, they have the British to protect them. Here, we would rather protect ourselves. If the Germans are foolish enough to give us arms free, I will accept.'
'But most of the border tribes have used those arms to attack the British in Oman,' Kane said. 'This is what the Germans wish to see happen.'
The old man shrugged. 'That is not my affair.'
There was obviously no point in further discussion and Kane changed the subject. 'Is there any reason why I shouldn't see the woman?'
Mahmoud shook his head. 'She is still under guard in her tent. I will take you to her myself.' As he led the way through the camp, he said, 'If you will take an old man's advice, be careful when you return to Bahrein. Skiros will not forget what you have done to him.'
He paused outside the tent that contained Marie Ferret. The guard sat cross-legged in the shadows beside the entrance, head lolling forward over his chest. Mahmoud exclaimed in annoyance and prodded the man with his foot.
The guard rolled forward into the sand, face turning to one side. He was still alive, but there was blood on his neck behind his left ear, the mark of a heavy blow.
There was no sign of a struggle when Kane looked inside the tent, but she was no longer there, and he turned to Mahmoud and said, 'They have taken her with them.'
'But why?' Jordan demanded.
'A hostage until he manages to get safely out of the country, or a means of hitting at me.' Kane shrugged. 'The reason isn't important.'
Mahmoud touched him on the sleeve and the old sheik's eyes were troubled. 'I am shamed that this thing should happen in my tents. Naturally this absolves me from my promise to hold you here for a day.'
'No one is to blame,' Kane told him, 'but we must leave at once. Where is the Somali?'
'He sleeps with my bodyguard,' Mahmoud said. 'I will send him to you.' He walked back to his tent, and Kane and Jordan hurried towards the truck.
'What about the Cunninghams?' Jordan asked.
Kane shrugged. 'They'll have to fend for themselves for the time being. This thing is more important.'
He smoked a cigarette and considered the situation, while Jordan checked that everything was in running order. It was about one hundred and twenty miles to Dahrein over dirt roads, and in places the going was rough. Skiros and Muller had a two-hour start. Unless they had a breakdown, it would be impossible to catch them before Dahrein.
Jamal appeared from the darkness, followed by Mah-moud and several of his men. The Somali climbed into the rear seat, and Jordan slid behind the wheel and pressed the starter.
As the engine roared into life, Mahmoud leaned forward and took Kane's hand. 'As Allah wills it, my friend.'
'Till our next meeting,' Kane said, and Jordan moved into gear and the truck shot away in a cloud of dust.
For the first hour, they followed an ancient caravan trail through the mountains, Jordan straining his eyes into the darkness, swinging the wheel violently from time to time as the headlights picked out boulders and other obstructions in their path.
Kane leaned back in his seat, one of Jordan's cigarettes smouldering between his teeth. Despite his long sleep, he was still tired, but from somewhere in the depths of him, he had summoned secret resources of energy, some mysterious vital force that was to hold him together long enough to finish this business. ùùùùùùùùùùùùùùùùù....ùùùùùùùùùùùùùùù.....ùùù. s J-J E J} A ù¯ùùùùùùùù"ùùùùùùùùùùùùùùùùùùùùùùùùùù®ùùùùù
At the end of the first hour, a strong wind started to blow in from the coast, cutting across the mountains, driving the curtain of cloud before it, and the full moon appeared, its rays drifting down into the valleys, lighting the way before them.
Jordan increased their speed now that he could see more clearly ahead, and they hurtled along the bed of a sterile, barren valley, zigzagging between large boulders, lurching from side to side.
An hour later, they moved out on to a man-made road, hewn out of the side of the mountain and roughly surfaced with small stones.
As Jordan moved into a higher gear, taking them forward in a burst of speed, there was a loud report from the rear, and the truck slewed dangerously close to the edge of the road.
Jordan switched off the engine with a curse. 'Blowout! Might happen more than once on this blasted road.'
They changed the tyre and were on their way again within ten minutes, but this time Kane was behind the wheel. There was no room in his mind for thinking of what lay ahead. He focused everything on the road, in grim concentration. His mind became a blank and nothing existed except the truck and the road ahead, twisting and curving along the side of the mountain, gradually sliding down towards the coast.
There was no question that he couldn't keep it up - no question at all. He sat hunched behind the wheel for mile after mile, hands slipping in their own sweat on the rim, until three hours later they came down into the great valley which opened into the sea.
He and Jordan had not spoken for hours, but now, as Dahrein came into sight, Kane said, 'What time have you got?"
Jordan glanced at his watch. 'About four a.m. You feel okay?'
Kane breathed several times to clear his head and nodded. 'I feel fine.' l
'What's our next move?' Jordan said.
Kane frowned. 'I don't think they'll use the hotel. Muller's house is the obvious choice. It's more secluded.'
All was quiet ?,s he took the truck along the road past the airstrip and moved in through the outlying houses down towards the waterfront.
Dahrein was shrouded in darkness and he turned the headlights full on as he drove carefully through narrow streets and twisting alleys, towards Muller's house.
At the end of the street, he halted and switched off the engine. 'We'd better go the rest of the way on foot.'
He reached for his sub-machine gun and led the way cautiously along the street. A lamp hung suspended over the door in the wall and beneath its light a travel-stained truck was parked.
Jordan touched the engine housing briefly. It was still warm. 'They haven't been here long.'
Kane nodded. 'I know, we made good time.'
The door was locked. For a moment he hesitated, and then Jamal touched him on the shoulder. When Kane turned, the Somali was leaning against the wall, legs braced firmly. Kane slung the machine gun over his shoulder and scrambled up on to Jamal's back. As he reached the Somali's shoulders, great hands seized his ankles and pushed.
He pulled himself over the wall and dropped down into the garden. There were lights on in the interior of the house. He stood in the darkness, looking up at the windows, and then he moved quickly to the door and unlocked it. A moment later, Jamal and Jordan were standing at his side.
He locked the door securely, pocketing the key, and they moved through the darkness towards the house.
EIGHTEEN
IT WAS QUIET in the garden and a slight breeze lifted coolly across Kane's cheek as he crouched behind a bush a few yards from the front door. He moved forward out of the shadows and mounted the steps to the terrace, followed by Jordan and the Somali.
The door opened to his touch and he walked inside, sub-machine gun ready. The light was on, and from upstairs, there came the sound of faint movement.
He turned to speak to Jordan and a door clicked open on one side of the hall. An Arab servant in white robes entered, carrying a suitcase. As he saw them, his eyes widened into saucers. Before he could cry out, Jamal took a quick pace forward and slammed his fist against the side of the man's jaw. He slumped to the ground without a cry, the case slipping from his grasp.
