The Slave Market of Mucar (20 page)

"Ah, then, it is the mart this evening, brother?" he queried.

"Within half an hour," the sentry replied. "You had better hurry if you wish to eat before it begins."

The Phantom thanked him and rejoined Slingsby.

"I thought you'd never get away," said Slingsby.

The Phantom smiled again.

"It pays to be thorough, brother," he said in Arabic.

Slingsby understood enough to get the drift of what he was saying, and he smiled in return.

"I've been looking around while you were talking with the gatekeeper," he said. "The place is swarming with soldiers and they're armed to the teeth."

The two men were walking farther into the city now, the Phantom leading the horse.

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"What's the next move?" Slingsby whispered, as they passed group after group of horsemen in the narrow streets.

The Phantom tied the horse to a railing and led the way onward as though he knew Mucar intimately. They were now in a more affluent section of the city, with palaces, courtyards, and public squares.

"We'll pay a little visit to the corrupt Prince of this evil place," the Phantom said, gazing keenly about him as they walked.

"Surely you can't be serious, sir," Slingsby protested. "The city is a fortress. How will we get ten men out of here? Let alone ourselves?"

"Allah looks after him who looks after himself," said the Phantom with a broad grin. "Ancient proverb."

And with that Slingsby had to be content. The two men now came to a white stone wall, on which the shadows of palm leaves were stenciled by the moonlight. It had a huge postern gate. The two men looked up and down. The narrow alley was deserted.

"This is the rear entrance to Selim's palace," the Phantom whispered.

"But it's guarded!" said Slingsby in uneven tones.

He had just seen the burnous of a sentry appear from round the corner. The two men guarded their station before the postern with long rifles in their arms. To Slingsby's horror, the Phantom prodded him forward and walked boldly up to the sentries.

"We are here to see His Highness," he said in ringing tones.

The two guards stirred uneasily; they looked puzzled.

"Visitors to the palace do not enter this gate," said the tallest of the two men.

"Correction!" said the Phantom. "We do!"

His fist caught the biggest guard squarely on the point of the jaw. There was a sickening thud as he flew like a rocket backward, slamming his head against the grillwork of the gate. Before he had reached the ground, the Phantom had his hands around the other's throat, preventing him from calling out. Slingsby, his hesitation forgotten, laid the barrel of his pistol across the man's head. The man slumped in the Phantom's arms.

Slingsby was already opening the gate and they swiftly dragged the two sentries inside. No one had seen the brisk melee; they had been too quick and quiet.

"Well done," said the Phantom as they bound and gagged the two men with strips torn from their robes.

"You're learning fast."

Slingsby grunted.

"One has to around you, sir," he said, "If one wants to survive, that is."

The Phantom grinned. He quickly dragged the sentries across the courtyard and laid them on their backs behind the bushes. His eye had caught a quick flash of white in the distance. Another sentry was hurrying toward them. The Phantom stood up and went to meet him.

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"What's going on?" the sentry called suspiciously.

"Something happened to the guard," the Phantom said. "Come and see."

The man came on unsuspectingly. Apparently, the Phantom and Slingsby's appearances would pass muster.

The sentry bent over the recumbent figures in the bushes.

He grunted once and then pitched forward on his face.

Slingsby put the pistol back under his robe. It took them just thirty seconds to bind and gag the third man.

The Phantom stood gazing down with satisfaction at Slingsby's handiwork.

"Well," he said at last, "that leaves the Prince with only nine hundred and ninety-seven men. Our relative position is improving, Slingsby."

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CHAPTER 19

HIDDEN TREASURE

Saldan made himself more comfortable on the perfumed cushion and gazed ahead through the haze of tobacco smoke to where the dark-haired beauties gyrated and weaved in their erotic display. His eyes were sparkling from the wine, and the fragrance of his cigar had never pleased him more. Usually he spent the final hours before a sale in the taverns of the city, but tonight was, after all, a very special occasion. So he had consented to be Prince Selim's guest for the last time.

The old man sat at his side now, smiling gravely as he drew on his hookah. Behind the two men three gigantic Nubians waved fans gently over them. The dinner had been excellent. Selim had really outdone himself this evening, the slaver thought. But then why shouldn't he? Saldan had made the Prince an even richer man than he had found him, while Saldan bore all the risks and hardships. Saldan's eyes hardened as he pulled on his cigar, his pupils mirroring his thoughts.

He adjusted his mask casually and concentrated on the wild gyrations of the girls who, with provocative thighs and heaving bellies, finally sank in exhaustion to the ground. He joined in the thin smattering of applause from the Prince and his courtiers. He was aware that Selim had turned toward him. The old man's beard shone under the light of the lamps and he had a sentimental look in his eyes.

"You are really certain that this will be your last sale tonight, my friend?"

Saldan nodded, perspiration glistening on his big, hard face. The scar stood out dead-white on his cheek as he turned his blond head beneath the lamps.

"I am, Prince," he said. "And thank you for not using my name."

The Prince smiled a thin smile.

"I thought, as this was your last evening," he said, "we should observe every courtesy. And make your stay a pleasant one."

Saldan inclined his head toward the old man. Selim shook his head regretfully.

"Nevertheless, my friend, it is a pity," he added, scratching his chin with one clawlike finger.

"Especially as we have done so well."

Saldan sighed. He picked another olive from a dish at his elbow.

"All good things come to an end, your Highness," he said. He puffed heavily on his cigar. "Always quit when you're ahead."

The Prince gazed in front of him to where an almost naked man was doing a complicated and dangerous dance with two razor-sharp scimitars.

"You have a Western proverb for every situation in life, my friend," he said.

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Saldan shrugged. "This one happens to fit very well," he said, reaching for another olive.

The Prince stroked his beard, absorbed in the gyrations of the man with the scimitars. He joined in the applause when the trick was over, rubbing his dry palms together as though he were making a fire from tinder.

"You may well be right, my friend," he sighed regretfully. "You may well be right."

Neither of them noticed the figures of two Arabs regarding them from a balcony which ran around three sides of the Prince's reception hall. But then there was no reason why they should have. The hall was, after all, full of robed figures and as there was no restriction on the use of the balcony, which was often packed with Selim's personal bodyguards, it was normal for the men to be there.

Slingsby felt a little tinge of excitement as he gazed down on the colorful scene below them.

"There's our corrupt Prince," the Phantom whispered close beside him. "And there's our equally corrupt Warden SaIdan."

The music began again and this time a soloist took his place beside the ornamental pool with its two tinkling fountains. The music seemed to go on for a long time; it was a tuneless Arab melody that made little sense to Saldan's ears and he eventually grew impatient. It would soon be time for his part in the auction. As befitted the trader with the richest wares to offer, he would be taking the position of honor this evening.

He came third and last, so he would not take the rostrum until about 1:00 A.M. He glanced at his wristwatch. It was only twelve-fifteen. There was plenty of time. But delectable as the Prince's entertainments were, he must not drink any more wine tonight, and he had eaten enough. He touched the Prince on the sleeve.

"I'd like to take a look at our mutual savings, Prince," he said. "If you don't mind."

The Prince got up. "Of course," he said.

The music had stopped and everyone in the hall had their eyes upon Selim. He clapped his hands again and ordered the music to continue.

Saldan had joined him at the back of the court now and the two men rapidly made their way along an ornate corridor guarded by sentries at three-yard intervals. They stopped before a massive oak-and-iron door.

"I have my key," Saldan said. "You will permit me?"

The Prince bowed. "Of course," he said.

Saldan unlocked the door and stood aside to allow the Prince to enter first.

The room was a counting house. There were scales and balances set out along the wooden surfaces and, most incongruous of all among the Oriental finery, a massive steel-fronted safe.

"Most of my money is in Switzerland, your Highness, as you know," said Saldan with satisfaction. "This hoard, garnered in the last two years, represents the petty cash."

He coughed harshly.

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"My life-line, as it were,"

He walked over to the safe and examined its heavy surface. His cigar smoke went straight up in the air.

"When things blow up-and blow up they must before very long-Warden Saldan will be the hottest property between here and Mecca. My share of the gold in this room will buy me the passage and immunity that only gold can ensure."

He looked round the chamber, busy with his own thoughts.

"This represents my passport to the West."

The Prince regarded him with a cynical look in his eye. He shrugged.

"When you disappear," he said, "one of my most cherished friendships will be lost."

"On the contrary, your Highness," Saldan said. "You will be a most welcome visitor to my home whenever you decide to come to Europe."

The Prince drew back his lips and smiled beneath the beard.

"In Deauville, my friend?" he asked. Saldan bowed with irony.

"Alas, no, your Excellency," he said. "Deauville will not be ... exactly suitable. It is too convenient for Interpol. Now Switzerland . . ."

"Or Buenos Aires!" the Prince interrupted calmly. Saldan blinked amiably.

"Who knows, your Excellence," he said. "I will find some way to get word to you. Now to business."

He rubbed his hands.

"Not bad for the last two year's work. What's your estimate, Prince?"

"About half a million each," said the Prince casually. "Give or take a thousand or two. But it's no estimate. I kept an accurate count."

"That's funny, Prince," said Saldan. "That's exactly what I make it. Give or take a hundred or two."

The two men bared their teeth at each other from opposite sides of the chamber.

The Prince passed his long fingers over his beard and sat down in an ornately carved chair at his desk.

"Did it ever occur to you, Saldan, that I might covet your share as well?"

A silence fell upon the room. Saldan ceased his pacing about. He turned to face the ruler of Mucar.

"It has indeed, partner," he said.

His smile was amiable enough, but his eyes beneath the mask were like tempered steel.

"But I have made sure you won't," he said quietly. The Prince's eyes sparkled.

"But we're in my own city, my friend," he said. "We are surrounded by a thousand men of my army. May I ask how you propose to carry off your money without my agreement?"

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Saldan blew smoke out of his mouth, jabbing with his cigar to emphasize his points.

"If you took my share of the gold and I disappeared, all sorts of drastic things would happen," he said.

"Like what?" the Prince replied.

Saldan stabbed the air with his cigar butt again.

"Like this, partner," he said. "A letter is in existence in a safe place. If anything happened to me, it would go straight to your king. Never mind how. You can take it from me that it would get there, delivered into his own hands."

He puffed at the cigar again, savoring his triumph.

"I need not tell you the contents of the letter," he said. "Slavery, as you know, has been outlawed by the United Nations. The letter gives all the dates and details of every sale held at Mucar with your connivance and it also lists every payment made to you as local ruler."

Saldan's jaw tightened.