The threat was implicit and he was angry now, tired of playing games, so he swallowed the cognac down.
"Oh, you can do better than that, Kate. Tell me, why didn't Abu go for a head shot on me out there at Hama?"
"Why, Tony, I'm shocked. You're far too important, not only to Hazar but to me. You're the best commander the Scouts have ever had. And you follow the Sultan's instructions."
"Which means your instructions."
"I rule the Empty Quarter, Tony, and I don't need the Scouts there. I don't want them. Police the border country, the high country, but stay on your side of the line."
"Why? Do you have something to hide over there?"
"That's my business. Next time you speak to Charles Ferguson, tell him to mind his." She nodded to Rupert. "We'll go now. We have an early start in the morning."
He pulled back her chair and said to Villiers, "It's been an interesting evening, Colonel."
Villiers stood up. "You could say that. Goodnight, Kate."
She smiled and led the way out, and Villiers said, "Another cognac, Abdul," and went back to the terrace to think things over.
Kate Rashid and Rupert walked back to the villa, Abu behind. "He's quite a man," Rupert said. "But he's right. Why don't you have him killed?"
"That might come later, but not for the moment. As I said, his work in the high country with the Scouts is useful to me, and good for Hazar."
"But what about his link with Ferguson?"
"Villiers can't tell him anything if he doesn't know anything. That's all that matters."
"Well, you're the expert. What's our schedule tomorrow?"
"The helicopter will be ready at seven. We'll call in at Shabwa, it's expected of me, then we'll fly on to Fuad Lake."
"How far?"
"Another hundred miles deeper into the desert." They had reached the steps leading up to the door of the villa and she turned to Abu. "Where are the Scouts at the moment?"
"They've been operating out of El Hajiz. There's good water there, but they may have moved."
They were speaking in English. "Villiers Sahb will join them soon, I think. You stay and watch him. When he leaves, follow. Take one of our Land Rovers."
"What are your orders?"
"I think he needs another lesson. He's proving difficult."
"The new officer?"
"Perhaps a fright will be enough. It is all as Allah wills. I leave it with you. Goodnight."
The copper door opened as if by magic, the houseboy appeared, and she passed through, Rupert following.
"Remind me never to give you cause to become annoyed with me," he said.
"As if you would." She smiled. "You're perfectly safe, darling. After all, you are a Dauncey."
A
bu went straight down to the bazaar, a neck cloth obscuring his face, and went to the cafe, which he knew the Scouts used regularly when in Hazar. They were seated at a table, drinking coffee, Achmed and his four comrades. There were people all around, some squatting against the wall. Abu pulled the neck cloth higher over his face, covering it almost completely, squatted there, head down, and listened to Achmed and his friends talk.
Achmed had not told them of Selim's death, had not even hinted at it. For the moment, he told them that Selim had received a message about some family trouble and had decided to go home.
At that moment, Villiers appeared and they all scrambled to their feet. Achmed told him, "Selim was upset. I think it was bad news from the family. He's not been around, Sahb. He must have gone."
"Then you are now Sergeant," Villiers told him. "We leave at dawn for El Hajiz. Get the Land Rovers ready and pick me up at the hotel."
"As the Sahb commands."
Villiers turned and went. Achmed and his comrades moved out. Only then did Abu get to his feet and walk away.
K
nowing the Scouts' destination, Abu left the villa before dawn in a Land Rover. Kate Rashid and Rupert were driven by the houseboy to a small landing pad she had constructed on the outskirts of Hazar, where a Scorpion helicopter waited with room for eight passengers. The pilot was Ben Carver, who was crouched beside it in blue RAF flying overalls.
"Good morning, Ben," she said. "This is my cousin, Rupert Dauncey. How's the weather?"
"Well, it's going to be bloody hot, but there's nothing new in that. Shabwa's fine, but there's a chance of a sandstorm in the Fuad area."
"We'll just have to tough it out. Let's get moving."
T
here was an airstrip at Shabwa, an enormous oasis with palm trees and a pool the size of a small lake, plus many, many tents, horses, camels, herds of goats, and several Land Rovers. The Scorpion landed, and as Kate Rashid got out, people surged forward, not only warriors with rifles but women and children. Several rifles were fired into the air, children cried out in delight, and the crowd milled around, trying to touch her.
The warriors pushed them away and formed two lines. Two young boys ran forward, each with a robe, and helped Kate and Rupert into them.
She raised an arm to the warriors, fist clenched. "My brothers."
They roared their approval and more rifles were fired into the air. She led the way to where a huge awning had been prepared, with a carpet and cushions to sit on. Two of the sub-chieftains squatted cross-legged beside her and engaged in a lively conversation in Arabic. Rupert lit a cigarette and was served thick sweet coffee in a metal cup, and seed cakes. The two old chieftains were also busy with coffee, and many people sat and watched.
"Unbelievable," Rupert said. "I've never seen anything like it."
"These are my people, Rupert."
"And yet this is only half of you. When you took me down to Dauncey the other month, the villagers were just the same, in a strange way. Dammit, when we went in the Dauncey Arms for a drink, everybody who was sitting down stood up."
"That's because they are also my people, and they're as dear to me as those here. Dauncey roots go deep, Rupert, and they're your roots, too."
"Something to live up to, all that," Rupert said, and somewhat to his own surprise, realized that he meant it.
Women appeared with various dishes: rice, lentils, plenty of unleavened bread, and a hot stew.
"What the hell is in that?" Rupert asked.
"Goat, darling, and don't say no or you'll give offense."
"Dear God," Rupert said.
"No knives and forks. We eat by hand here and make sure you use your left hand." She smiled. "Now eat it up like a good boy, then we'll carry on to Fuad."
T
hey left an hour and a half later. Rupert said, "What am I going to find at Fuad?"
"In effect, an army camp. We have young Arabs from all the main Arab states. We teach them basic weaponry skills with rifles and machine guns, plus more sophisticated weapons such as shoulder-fired missiles."
"What about bomb-making and explosives?"
"Yes, that, too, though it's pretty basic. Mostly how to use explosives effectively with timer pencils. There's a limit to what we can do. It isn't exactly up to Provisional IRA standards. We usually have around fifty in the camp, mostly men, but a few women pass through. They do eight weeks here and then go back home and pass their knowledge on."
"Who are the instructors?"
"Mostly Palestinians."
"Are they up to it?"
"Good help is hard to find. The chief instructor is first class, though, Colum McGee. He was in the IRA for years."
"So what's the purpose of all this?"
"To have lots of reasonably trained young revolutionaries scattered throughout the Middle East, youngsters who would happily overthrow their governments, who hate capitalism and the wealthy."
"But, Kate, you're a capitalist and you are unbelievably wealthy. And yet you want to destabilize the lot. It doesn't make sense."
"It does if you want revenge, darling, it does if you want revenge."
"And how do you achieve that?"
"Later, Rupert. When the time is right." She glanced down below where sand boiled in a great cloud. So Ben Carver had been right. A desert storm was brewing.
V
illiers and his men were well into the hill country, passing between those great ocher cliffs, making for the pool at Hama. For some time as the wind increased in force he had been aware of the fine particles of sand being carried with it, and he and his men had covered their noses and mouths with scarves.
As they approached the pool, he said to Achmed, "We'll stop and replenish the water bags."
"As the Sahb commands."
Achmed got out with two Scouts, but Villiers stayed in his seat, sheltering behind the windshield, lighting a cigarette in cupped hands. Achmed and the two Scouts filled the goatskin bags and were turning to bring them back to the Land Rovers, each man carrying two, when there was the crack of a shot, and a bullet hole appeared in the bag Achmed carried in his left hand and water spilled out. The three men dropped the bags and ran for the shelter of the Land Rovers and crouched, weapons ready.
"No return fire," Villiers said.
The wind moaned, more sand carried with it. Achmed said, "Look, Sahb, there are tire marks in the sand, a Land Rover for sure. Someone has passed this way before us. Maybe Abu." Villiers started to get up and Achmed pulled him back. "No Sahb, not you."
"I think it is Abu, but if he could hit the goatskin he could have hit you. He can't shoot me because the Countess wants me alive. This means he's just been playing with us. I'll prove it to you." He stood up and called in Arabic, "Abu, have you no honor? Are you afraid to face me?" He walked out into the open. "Here I am, where are you?"
The visibility was greatly reduced now. They heard the sound of an engine starting up and a vehicle drawing away.
"He has gone, Sahb," Achmed told him.
"And we should go, too, and reach shelter. It may be a while before this blows over."
A
t the end of the pass was a crumbling fort left over from the old days. The stables still had a roof on them, the Land Rovers drove inside and they all dismounted.
Villiers said to Achmed, "Get the spirit stove going. Coffee for you and tea for me. A can of food for each man. They can choose what they want."
"As the Sahb orders."
Villiers looked out as the sand was whipped up into a fury and wondered how Abu was getting on out there but, even more, wondered what he intended.
T
he Scorpion made Fuad before the sandstorm reached full intensity. Rupert was aware of the palm trees of the oasis below and his trained vision took in the crude blockhouse. The firing range beyond it, and many Bedu tents of the kind had evolved over the centuries to handle the vagaries of the Empty Quarter, including sandstorms.
There were many men waiting down there, faces covered against the sand. Kate turned to Rupert. "The breath of Allah, that's what the Bedu call it."
"Then he must be in an angry mood."
Carver put down between two clumps of palm trees, and men ran forward with ropes, fastened them around the skids, and tied the other ends to trees.
Ben Carver switched off. "Jesus," he said, "that was a stinker."
"You did well," she told him.
Carver got out first and held the door, and she wrapped her scarf around her head and mouth and took the lead. Someone offered her a hand, a large man in jeans and a leather bomber jacket, a scarf wrapped around his face. Rupert followed and they hurried toward the tents, followed by a number of men.
The tent they entered was large and well appointed, with carpets on the floor, cushions, and a low table. It was all quite luxurious. Drapes against the tent walls flapped a little as the wind buffeted them, and yet in there, the sound was subdued and somehow faraway.
The man in the bomber jacket removed his scarf, revealing a tangled black beard flecked with gray. It was Colum McGee, and he was smiling.
"Good to see you, Countess." She introduced Rupert, and a moment later Carver arrived.
"How long will it last?" she inquired.
"I've checked the weather report from Hamam airport. It should die down in two or three hours."
She checked her watch. "Eleven o'clock. That would leave time for an inspection and we could still make it back to Hazar by nightfall. We might as well have something decent to eat, Colum."
"Well, I can't offer a full Irish breakfast, Countess, but the women in the kitchen bake fairly decent bread even though it's unleavened. If you want lamb stew or goat, fine. Otherwise, I can offer various things from cans. Corned beef, new potatoes, carrots, peas."
"I think that should do nicely. Did you bring the refrigerated box in, Ben?"
"One of the men took it to the kitchen for me."
"Good, we'll have a drink."
Carver went out along a tented tunnel and entered the kitchen. There was a round stone fireplace in the entryway, three cooking pots hanging from spits, half a dozen women working at various tasks. The blue plastic refrigerated box was on a low table.