"And, of course, a Rashid. It still puzzles me how this all works, both sides made up of the same people."
"That's because you're a Yank and you don't understand the Arab mind."
The houseboy appeared with a bottle of Bollinger in an ice bucket and two glasses. He thumbed the cork off expertly and poured.
"I thought alcohol was forbidden in Arab countries," Rupert said.
"It varies. Hazar has always had a rather liberal attitude."
"And you go along with that? After all, you are a Muslim."
"I also don't wear a chador," she said, referring to the obligatory headscarf for Muslim women. "I'm also half-English, Rupert. I serve both sides of the coin."
As she sipped champagne, Abu ushered Selim in. The Sergeant looked very worried.
"You speak good English, Selim, so we'll speak English now. Does Villiers Sahb know you are here?"
"No, Countess." Selim was instantly alarmed. "I am here because I felt I must speak to you."
"Why?"
"We've been in the border country, the Scouts, with the Colonel. We no longer cross into the Empty Quarter."
"I know this."
"Villiers Sahb asked me many questions. He wanted to know if there was anything going on over the border."
"And what did you tell him?"
"That I knew nothing. But he made me feel uncomfortable. I don't think he believed me."
"Which shows his intelligence, for you were lying to him, weren't you?"
"Countess, please."
"Light me a cigarette, Rupert." He did so and passed it to her. "But you must not lie to me, Selim." She leaned forward. "So tell me what you have heard whispered."
"The camp, Countess, the camp at Fuad Oasis. Foreigners come and go, and there is sometimes much gunfire. Those who roam the desert, the Adoo bandits, have heard of such things."
"Many people talk mysteries, and loose tongues abound. But they can be cut out, Selim. Why have you come to me? You are the Colonel's man."
"But I am also Rashid." Selim was bewildered. "My loyalty is to you first, Countess, you are our leader, all Rashid agree."
"Even the Hazar Scouts?"
"Well, there are those who are old-fashioned in their ways, who look to the Colonel."
"Men who keep their oath, you mean, unlike you? You also swore the oath, you tasted salt with Colonel Villiers, and ate his bread. There is a matter of honor here, and loyalty. You say you are loyal to me, but can I depend on loyalty and honor from a man who has none?"
"Countess--please," Selim said wildly.
"Go from my sight. Never return."
Abu gripped Selim's arm and pushed him out of the terrace. Rupert said, "What was that all about?"
"Honor is everything to my people. Men die for it--and Selim will die for his lack of it."
Abu returned and, to Rupert's total astonishment, said in excellent English, "The man is a dog, Countess. What would you have me do?"
"See to him, Abu."
"At your orders."
He went out and she smiled slightly at Rupert. "When Abu was eighteen, his uncle, a rich trader, sent him to London University. He got a degree in economics--but on his return, he found that he preferred being a warrior. He is a very good one."
"Then God help Selim."
She finished her champagne and stood up. "Time for a shower and a change of clothes. I'll show you your suite."
S
elim hurried from one narrow alley to another, making for the old quarter, and yet the truth was he had no idea where to go. He had thought to find favor with the Countess. Instead, he had received a death sentence. Nothing was more certain. He paused and stood in a doorway to consider the situation.
There was nowhere to hide, not in Hazar, not in the high country of the border or in the Empty Quarter. The word would go out amongst his people, and every hand would be against him. His mind raced and came up with only one possible solution: the harbor. There were boats there that called at every port in Southern Arabia. Perhaps he could get to Aden or even Mombassa on the east coast of Africa. There was a larger Arab population there and it was far from Rashid territory.
He hurried away, taking a different direction, and came out on the waterfront. It was very dark, but there were lights on the moored shipping. If he could slip on board one of the ancient coastal steamers, all would be well.
He turned on to one of the boardwalk wharfs, which had several boats tied up. It was very quiet, with only the sound of distant laughers, and then a board creaked behind him and he turned and saw Abu. Selim turned to run, but Abu was faster. He caught him by the robe, a knife in one hand, pulled back Selim's head, and drew the knife across his throat. Selim sagged, the life going out of him, and Abu wiped his knife on the man's robe and pushed him over the side of the wharf. The body fell some fifty feet, there was a splash, then only the silence again.
Abu walked away quickly. When he had gone, another Arab came out of the darkness wearing the crossed bandoliers of the Scouts, an AK slung from his left shoulder. He peered over the edge of the wharf and saw Selim's body floating facedown in the faint light at the stern of a coastal steamer. After a moment, he turned and walked away.
V
illiers made a striking figure in his tropical uniform as he went into the bar at the Excelsior. There were only half a dozen people, all alone, and all European, with an air of business about them. One or two looked at him, curious. There was no sign of Kate Rashid or Rupert Dauncey. Villiers moved to the bar, where Abdul polished glasses.
"I'd have thought the Countess would be in tonight. I know she's in town."
"Later, Sahb, she comes later."
"Did she tell you that?"
Abdul looked nervous. "Would you like a lager, Colonel Sahb?"
"Not now."
He walked out, lit a cigarette, and stood at the top of the steps leading down to the garden. One of his men squatted at one side of the steps, his AK across his knees.
Villiers said in Arabic, "I see you, Achmed."
"And I you, Colonel Sahb."
"So why are you here?"
"Selim is dead. He floats in the harbor."
"Tell me," Villiers said, offering a cigarette and a light.
"We were to go with the women in the bazaar, have whiskey sups. Sahb knows we can do that there."
"And?"
"Selim was troubled, not himself. He said he had to see a friend. I thought it strange, so I followed."
"And where did he go?"
"The Rashid Villa. It was almost dark. I stood in the palms on the other side of the street and looked up to the terrace. The Countess was there with a man, English, I think."
"No, American. I know who this man is."
"Then Abu brought Selim on to the terrace, and he and the Countess talked. A little later, Selim came out. He stood there looking worried, as if he didn't know where to go."
"What do you mean by worried?"
"He had the stink of fear on him, Sahb. He started down the street, and I was about to follow when Abu came out and went after him."
"And you followed."
"Yes, Sahb, down to the harbor. He turned on to one of the wharfs. He seemed to be examining the ships, then Abu ran up behind him, cut his throat, and pushed him into the water."
Villiers said, "Why would Abu do this thing?"
"For the Countess, Sahb."
"But what would be her reason?"
"Allah alone knows this."
Villiers offered him another cigarette. "I'm grateful, Achmed, that you've told me this, but why? You, too, are Rashid, the Countess is your leader."
He knew the answer before it came. "But Sahb, I have tasted your salt, sworn the oath, and I am your man. This the Countess would agree on. It is a matter of honor."
"And perhaps Selim had none."
Achmed shrugged. "He was a weak man."
"But a good Sergeant."
"I would be better, Sahb."
Villiers smiled. "Well, you must prove that to me." He took out his pack of cigarettes and gave them to him. "Go on, you rogue, but no mention of this to the others."
"It will come out, Sahb, these things do."
"Let it be in its own time."
Achmed faded into the darkness and Villiers went inside and approached the bar. A matter of honor. That was supremely important to the Bedus, and perhaps Kate Rashid also saw it that way.
"Cigarettes, Abdul," he said. "Marlboros."
Abdul passed a pack across. "A lager now, Colonel?"
Before he could reply, a voice said, "Why, Tony, how nice," and he turned to find Kate Rashid entering the bar, Dauncey with her. She wore a simple white shift, and magnificent diamond earrings and necklace. He wore a linen suit and a pale blue shirt.
"Countess." Before he could say more, she reached up and kissed his cheek.
"I've told you before, it's Kate to my friends. This is my cousin, Major Rupert Dauncey, Marine Corps. And this, Rupert, is the famous Colonel Tony Villiers."
They shook hands. "My pleasure, Major," Villiers told him.
"No, mine. I've heard a lot about you."
"Champagne on the terrace, Abdul--you must join us, Tony, and for dinner," Kate said.
"How can I refuse?"
Her eyes glittered and there was an excitement in them, for as she and Rupert had been leaving the villa, Abu had appeared.
"Are all things well?" she'd asked.
"It is done, Countess."
"Good. It's a nice night for a walk. You will accompany us."
He'd fallen in behind them, his hand on the hilt of the jambya, the curved Arab knife at his belt, although not a soul in Hazar would have gone against him.
"The dog died, is that it?" Rupert shook his head. "God, but you're a hard woman, harder than I ever could have believed."
"This is a hard land, darling, and being hard is the only way to survive." She slipped a hand in his arm. "But no sad songs. I want to enjoy myself this evening."
Chapter
8.
T
HE NIGHT WIND BLOWING IN FROM THE SEA WAS WARM and perfumed, a touch of spices there. Kate was sitting on a swing seat, Rupert and Villiers opposite her across a cane table. Abdul was serving champagne.
"You look absolutely splendid, Tony. All those medals. He's got everything except the Victoria Cross, Rupert."
"So I can see."
"You and Rupert have things in common," she told Villiers. "The Gulf War, Serbia, and Bosnia."
"Really?" Rupert said. "That's very interesting. Which unit?"
"SAS." Villiers decided to push it. "I'm surprised you didn't know. Kate certainly knows everything about me."
"Now then, Tony, you're getting fractious. On the other hand, I know you've had a hell of a day. To paraphrase Oscar Wilde, to lose one man might be considered careless, but to lose two..."
Villiers turned to Rupert. "One thing you'll discover about this place is that news travels fast. Nothing stays secret for long. I did lose a man when we stopped at the pool at Hama on the way in."
"Tough luck," Rupert said.
"Yes, but the second man, my Sergeant, Selim, was only murdered a short while ago down on the docks." He smiled at Kate. "You must have remarkable sources."
"It's the secret of my success, Tony. But enough of this. Let's order."
The meal was excellent, for the chef had a French mother, and had trained in Paris. Rupert Dauncey and Villiers, as soldiers will, discussed their personal experiences in the Gulf War and the former Yugoslavia.
"So you were behind Iraqi lines with the SAS?" Rupert asked. "How long?"
"Oh, before the war started. We knew it was coming and exactly what Saddam Hussein intended." Villiers shrugged. "People like me with a working knowledge of Arabic were at a premium. Like Kate's brother Paul."
"Did you know him?"
"We were in the same regiment, the Grenadier Guards, but he was long after my time. I knew him there, though. He had his men kill my second-in-command, Cornet James Bronsby. The Rashid have a very effective technique. They slice the skin down from the chest. It takes a long time. The loss of masculinity is the final touch, but then Kate will have told you all this."
"Actually, I hadn't," she said.
"Why? Were you ashamed?"
"No. My people expected it. It's their way." She shrugged. "And you got your revenge, Tony. Dillon killed four of my men the following morning. And one of them was my brother George."
"If he couldn't take the consequences, he shouldn't have joined."
Abdul appeared with three glasses of cognac on his tray. Kate sipped a little of hers. "I hear you have a new second-in-command, another Household Cavalryman?"
"Yes, a Lifeguard this time, Cornet Bobby Hawk. A nice boy. You'd like him."
"Perhaps he shouldn't have joined."