The Somali took the lamp and led the way back up the rock slide and into the dark mouth of the tunnel through which the river emptied into the pool. The journey was not as bad as Kane had thought it would be, except for one or two deeper places where the gap narrowed and the current seemed to be trying to press him back with an implacable hand.
When they reached the steep bank of shale and scrambled up to the mouth of the tunnel which had granted them their freedom from the cave, it had a strangely unfamiliar look like some place visited once and briefly years before and never again.
Kane carried the three picks, and Jamal the hammers and crowbars and they went down the bank and entered the water again.
The return journey seemed only to take minutes and, as Jamal carefully negotiated the slide down into the pool, the beam of the lamp splashed out across the wall. There was no sign of the Englishman.
They dropped the tools quickly, and Kane took the lamp and called, 'Cunningham!'
The sound of his voice rebounded from the narrow walls of the cave but there was no reply. He was about to call out again when there was the sound of a boot on stone in the darkness below. He shone the beam down into the slot and picked out Cunningham coming up the steep incline.
The Englishman looked up at him calmly, shading his eyes against the light. 'You were quicker than I thought.'
'Where the hell have you been?' Kane demanded.
Cunningham turned and looked back down the incline to the entrance to the tunnel. 'I went for another look.'
'Without a light?' Kane said incredulously.
Cunningham smiled and, all at once, the strain seemed to have left his face. 'I couldn't see her, but I knew she was there.' He took a deep breath. 'Down here at the base looks a good place to start. Some of these stones are half-rotten.'
Kane couldn't think of anything to say. He nodded to Jamal and went over the wall, and the Somali passed the tools down to them and they started work.
It took them half an hour to lever out the first stone and Jamal's great strength proved invaluable. The pressure of the water pushed the stone the last few inches like a cork from a bottle, and a great foaming jet splashed out into the slot and rushed down into the darkness below.
Once the gap had been made, the rest was easy. Jamal reached in, water cascading over his back and pulled the next stone away by hand.
Within a moment they were knee-deep in water and Kane turned quickly to Cunningham. 'Now we've made the breach, the whole damned lot might come down. We'd better get back on the other side out of harm's way.'
They climbed over the wall and stood on the bank of shale and sand that had been formed by the years in the corner of the wall and the cave, and gradually the level of the pool dropped.
By now, the river, as it emerged from the slide, was finding its new exit and the wall started to vibrate with the shock. After about half an hour, it sagged in the centre and then cascaded outwards into the slot.
Already the top of the tunnel was showing, and within another ten minutes, there was no more than two feet of water in it. The Somali took the lamp and ducked into the tunnel and Kane slipped the sling of his sub-machine gun over his shoulder and followed.
As he plunged forward into the darkness, water swirling around his knees, he thought of the men who had worked here in the bowels of the earth all those years ago; worked in the darkness, patiently, perhaps for years, that their queen might have a secure resting-place in death.
The river emptied into a wide lake with startling suddenness and he found himself swimming again. Jamal held the lamp high above his head, and its rays picked out a row of carved pillars on the far side and a landing stage.
The Somali reached it first and heaved himself up with easy strength in spite of the fact that the water level of the lake had obviously dropped several feet. He then knelt down and pulled up Kane and Cunningham in turn.
Kane took the lamp and moved forward between the pillars and entered a wide passage which sloped gently upwards. A few moments later, the beam from the lamp splayed itself against a blank wall.
He dropped to one knee and examined it closely. 'From the look of it, this central block pivots,' he said to Cunningham.
He spoke rapidly in Arabic to Jamal and the Somali dropped to his knee and pushed against the great stone wall with all his strength. It refused to budge. The Somali gave a grunt and his back ridged, muscles standing out like cords. Still the stone remained immobile.
Kane dropped to his knees and leaned a shoulder against the stone, and Cunningham moved in on the other side. For a moment, it was as if they were faced with all the power in the world, as if something supernatural was determined they should not leave, and then the stone turned with a groan.
Kane scrambled to his feet and looked about him. They were standing in the temple, and the stone was one of those set in the base of the high altar.
They pushed it back into place, moved outside and stood on the terrace, the morning sun bright in their eyes. The gorge lay still and calm about them and Cunningham frowned. 'It's damned quiet.'
'Most of the Bedouins pulled out with that caravan yesterday afternoon,' Kane reminded him. The rest have probably made an early start this morning.'
He led the way cautiously towards the encampment, using what cover was available. When he neared the edge of the hollow, he got down on his belly and crawled the rest of the way.
The encampment no longer existed. Tents, trucks -everything had gone. For a moment he lay there, a frown on his face, and then Jamal tapped him on the shoulder and pointed beyond the oasis to where a faint tracer of smoke lifted into the morning air.
Kane led the way down into the hollow, unslinging his sub-machine gun. As they neared the trees, a camel coughed and there was the sound of laughter.
On the other side of the oasis, two Bedouin tents still stood with at least a dozen camels hobbled near by. One man squatted before a small fire on which he was cooking, and three more stood knee-deep in the pool and washed themselves.
Kane turned to Cunningham and said quietly, 'You come in from the rear of the tents. Jamal can work his way round to the other side of the pool and I'll go in from here.'
He waited until they were in position and then stepped from behind a tree and went slowly forward. He stopped a yard or so away from the fire. The Bedouin was stirring something in the pot. He laughed, looked up to call to the men washing, and saw Kane. The laughter died in his throat.
'Do as you're told and you won't be harmed,' Kane told him in Arabic.
The man stood up slowly and shrugged. 'I am not a fool.'
He was older than Kane had at first thought, with a fine intelligent face, seamed with wrinkles, and an iron-grey beard. His three companions waded out of the pool to join him, and Jamal and Cunningham moved in behind them.
'Where are the others?' Kane demanded.
'It was thought that you were dead,' the old man said. 'The two Franks and their men left in the trucks before first light. The Yemenis went at dawn.'
'Why have you stayed?'
'We are Rashid,' the old man said simply. 'We do not abandon our kindred. My cousin is lying in one of the tents. You put a bullet in his shoulder last night. One of the Franks removed it before they left.'
'And the women?'
The old man shrugged. 'They went in the trucks.'
Kane turned to Cunningham. 'Did you manage to get all that?'
The Englishman nodded. 'What do we do now?'
'The only thing we can do - get after them.' Kane turned back to the old Rashid. 'You'll have to help us.'
There was a murmur of discontent from the other three, and the old man stilled them by raising a hand. 'Why should we? You are our enemies.'
'Because you haven't any choice,' Kane told them, raising his sub-machine gun. 'After we've eaten, you can select your three best camels, and the Somali is an expert, by the way.'
The old Rashid shrugged. 'As Allah wills it.' His three companions sat down sullenly, legs crossed, and he poured coffee into two battered tin mugs, which he presented courteously to Kane and Cunningham.
Kane drank some of the coffee gratefully and Cunningham said, 'But we haven't a hope in hell of catching them.'
Kane nodded, 'I know, but if we make good time to Bir el Madani and get a truck from Jordan, we stand a good chance of reaching Dahrein before they leave.'
'By God, I hope you're right,' Cunningham said fervently. 'When I think of Ruth...' His voice trailed away and he quickly swallowed some coffee.
Kane tried to sound confident. 'You don't have to worry about a thing. Skiros won't be in any hurry to leave Dahrein. There's no reason why he should be.'
But inside he wasn't so sure. Skiros must be a worried man. What else could explain his sudden departure? Perhaps he'd realized that his run of luck was ending, and like a good gambler, was simply getting out while he was still ahead of the game.
Kane narrowed his eyes as he looked up into the blue vault of the sky and watched a buzzard poise before wheeling down in great circles. One could never be sure of anything in this life. If this country had taught him anything, it had taught him that.
FIFTEEN
THEY LEFT AN HOUR LATER on the three camels Jamal considered to be in the best condition. Kane and Cunningham wore the head-dress and loose outer robes of the Bedouin, reluctantly provided by the old Rashid and his companions, and Jamal carried two goatskins of water securely looped over the pommel of his saddle.
Kane was riding a bull camel, a large and powerful black animal which moved across the flat plain outside the gorge at an incredible rate.
Pieces of twisted metal and fuselage from the Catalina were strewn over a wide area, and as they passed the fire-blackened wreckage, he looked at it in wonder. It seemed impossible that they could have destroyed it so completely, and already the memory of the incident had lost its sharpness as if it had never happened.
As they left the plain and entered the sand dunes, he lifted a fold of his head-cloth across his face as a protection against the fierce heat that rose to meet them.
The desert rolled ahead in great waves of sand as far as the eye could see, and he eased himself into a more comfortable position in the wooden saddle and urged the camel on. Speed was the only thing which could help them now. That and the fact that Skiros would not be expecting pursuit.
He glanced back and saw Jamal, close behind, followed by Cunningham, his face half-covered by a fold of his robe. The Englishman raised a hand in a half-salute, and Kane turned and concentrated on the trail ahead.
The camel never faltered in its stride, great legs covering the ground tirelessly, and he lapsed into a state that was somewhere between sleeping and waking, eyes half-closed against the glare.
He wondered what the German's next move would be. He would probably make for Dahrein, secure in the knowledge that no one was left to follow him. He could afford to spend several days there, clearing up his affairs before moving out ahead of any enquiries set on foot by the American Consul.
What he would do with the women was debatable. Kane recalled the conversation he had overheard outside the tent on the previous night. What had Skiros said? That he looked upon Marie Ferret as a personal challenge.
Kane shivered at the thought and pushed it firmly away from him. Sufficient unto the day. For the moment it was enough to concentrate on reaching Bir el Madani. He slouched into a more comfortable position in the saddle and urged the camel on.
The morning passed as in a dream and they rolled on into the afternoon like great ships floating over the sand. On several occasions they had to dismount to lead their camels up the steep sides of some of the larger dunes, and they stopped once to share their water and a handful of dried dates.
Cunningham looked tired and his eyes were sore and red-rimmed, the thin, sensitive face coated with sand. Kane swallowed his ration of water, grimacing slightly at the acrid, unpleasant taste, and looked anxiously at him. 'You managing okay?'
Cunningham's face split into a tight grin. 'A little tired, but I'll be fine. Don't forget I passed this way going in the opposite direction.'
They remounted and rode on. The sun was high in the heavens, beating fiercely across their backs with a flail of fire, and Kane bowed his head on his chest and let the camel find its own way. He was tired - very tired. Too much had happened during the past three or four days. Too much for any man.
He decided that he must have ridden unconscious for the rest of the afternoon, because he was suddenly aware that the sun was dropping in the west and a slight wind stung his face. Jamal had ridden up beside him and was pulling at the reins of his camel.