SHEBA

by JACK HIGGINS

In 24 BC the Roman General, Aehus Callus, tried to conquer Southern Arabia and succeeded only in losing most of his army in the awesome region known as the Empty Quarter, the Rubh al Khali. Amongst the survivors was a Greek adventurer named Alexias, centurion in the Tenth Legion, who walked out of the desert carrying with him a secret of the ancient world as astonishing as King Solomon’s Mines, a secret that was lost for two thousand years Until .....

BERLIN - March 1939

ONE

AS RAIN DRIFTED across Berlin in a great curtain on the final evening of March a black Mercedes limousine moved along Wilhelmstrasse towards the new Reich Chancellery which had only opened in January. Hitler had given them a year to complete the project. His orders had been obeyed with two weeks to spare.

Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, Chief of Military Intelligence, the Abwehr, leaned forward and wound down the window so that he could obtain a better view.

He shook his head. “Incredible. Do you realize, Hans, that the frontage on Voss-Strasse alone is a quarter of a mile long.”

The young man who sat next to him was his aide, a Luftwaffe captain named Hans Ritter. He had an Iron Cross Second and First Class and was handsome enough until he turned his head and the dreadful burn scar was visible on his right cheek; and there was a walking stick on the floor at his feet, the unfortunate result of his having been shot down by an American volunteer pilot while flying with the German Condor Legion in the Spanish Civil War.

“With all those pillars, Herr Admiral, the marble, it’s more like some marvel of the ancient world.”

“Instead of a symbol of the new order?” Canaris shrugged and wound up the window. “Everything passes, Hans, even the Third Reich although our beloved Führer has given us a thousand years.” He took a cigarette from his case and Ritter gave him a light, as always slightly alarmed at the mocking in the older man’s voice. “As you say, Herr Admiral.”

“Yes, it’s a bizarre thought, isn’t it? One day people could be wandering around what’s left of the Chancellery, tourists, just like they inspect the ruins of the Temple of Luxor in Egypt saying: ”I wonder what they were like?“”

Ritter was thoroughly uncomfortable now as the Mercedes drove through the gilded gates into a court of honour and moved towards the steps leading up to the massive entrance. “If the Herr Admiral could give me an idea of why we’ve been called.”

“I haven’t the slightest notion and it’s me he wants to see, not you, Hans. I simply want you on hand if anything unusual turns up.”

“Shall I wait in the car?” Ritter asked as they pulled up at the bottom of the steps.

“No, you can wait in reception. Much more comfortable and you’ll be able to feast on the new art forms of the Third Reich. Vulgar, but sustaining.”

The Kriegsmarine Petty Officer who was his driver ran round to open the door.

Canaris got out and waited courteously for Ritter, who had considerably more difficulty. His left leg was false from the knee down, but once on his feet he moved quite well with the aid of his stick and they went up the steps together.

The SS guards were troops of the Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler and wore black dress uniform and full white leather harness. They saluted smartly as Canaris and Ritter passed inside. The hall was truly remarkable with mosaic floor, doors seventeen feet high and great eagles carrying swastikas in their claws. A young Hauptsturm-fuhrer in dress uniform sat at a gold desk, two orderlies standing behind. He jumped to his feet.

“Herr Admiral. The Führer has asked for you twice.”

“My dear Hoffer, I didn’t get his summons until half an hour ago,” Canaris said.

“Not that that will do me any good. This is my aide, Captain Ritter. Look after him for me.”

“Of course, Herr Admiral.” Hoffer nodded to one of the orderlies. “Take the Herr Admiral to the Führer’s reception suite.”

The orderly set off at a sharp pace and Canaris went after him. Hoffer came round the desk and said to Ritter, “Spain?”

“Yes.” Ritter tapped his false foot. “I could still fly, but they won’t let me.”

“What a pity,” Hoffer said and led him over to the seating area. “You’ll miss the big show.”

“You think it will come?” Ritter asked, easing himself down and taking out his cigarette case, “Don’t you? And by the way, no smoking. Führer’s express order.”

“Damn!” Ritter said, for his pain was constant and cigarettes helped.

“Sorry,” Hoffer said sympathetically. “But coffee we do have and it’s the best.”

He turned, went to his desk and picked up the phone.

==========

When the guard opened the enormous door to Hitler’s study, Canaris was surprised at the number of people in the room. There were the three commanders-in-chief, Goering for the Luftwaffe, Brauchitsch for the Army and Raeder for the Kriegsmarine. There was Himmler, von Ribbentrop, generals like Jodl, Keitel and Haider. There was a heavy silence and heads turned as Canaris entered.

“Now that the Admiral has deigned to join us we can begin,” Hitler said; ‘and I will be brief. As you know the British today gave the Poles an unconditional guarantee of their full support in the event of war.“

Goering said. “Will the French follow, my Führer?”

“Undoubtedly,” Hitler told him. “But they will do nothing when it comes to the crunch.”

“You mean, invade Poland?” Haider, who was Chief of Staff at OKW, said. “What about the Russians?”

“They won’t interfere. Let us say there are negotiations in hand and leave it at that. So, gentlemen, my will is fixed in this matter. You will prepare Case White, the invasion of Poland on September the 1st.”

There were shocked gasps. “But my Führer, that only gives us six months,”

Colonel-General von Brauchitsch protested.

“Ample time,” Hitler told him. “If there are those who disagree, speak now.”

There was a profound silence. “Good, then get to work, gentlemen. You may all leave except for you, Herr Admiral.”

They all filed out and Canaris stood there waiting while Hitler looked out of the window at the rain. Finally he turned. “The British and the French will declare war, but they won’t do anything. Do you agree?”

“Absolutely,” Canaris said.

“We smash Poland, wrap things up in a few weeks. Once it’s done, what is the point of the British and French continuing? They’ll sue for peace.”

“And if not?”

Hitler shrugged. “Then I’ll have Case Yellow implemented. We’ll invade Belgium, Holland, France and drive the English into the sea. They’ll come to their senses then. After all, they are not our natural enemies.“

“I agree,” Canaris said.

“Having said that, it occurs to me that I should demonstrate to our English friends as soon as possible that I do mean business.”

Canaris cleared his throat. “Exactly what do you have in mind, my Führer?”

Hitler gestured towards the huge map of the world that hung on the far wall.

“Come over here, Herr Admiral, and let me show you.”

==========

When Canaris returned to the reception hall at the Chancellery an hour later, Hoffer was seated behind his desk with the two orderlies. There was no sign of Ritter. The SS Captain stood up and came to greet him.

“Herr Admiral.”

“My aide?” Canaris asked.

“Hauptman Ritter was badly in need of a smoke. He went back to your car.”

“My thanks,” Canaris said. 'I'll find my own way.“

He went out of the huge doors and stood at the top of the steps, buttoning his greatcoat, looking out at the rain. He went down the steps and had the rear door of the limousine open before his driver realized what was happening, and climbed in beside Ritter.

“My office,” he called to the driver, then closed the glass partition.

Ritter started to stub out his cigarette as they drove away, and Canaris sat back. “Never mind. Just give me one of those things. I need it.”

Ritter got his cigarette case out and offered a light. “Is everything all right, Herr Admiral? I saw them all leave. I was worried.”

“The Führer, Hans, gave us his personal order to invade Poland on September the

1st.”

“My God,” Ritter said. “Case White.”

“Exactly. He has been negotiating with the Russians, who will do a deal. They’ll let us get on with it in return for a slice of eastern Poland.”

“And the British?”

“Oh, they’ll declare war and I’m sure the French will go along. The Führer, however, is convinced they will do nothing on the Western Front and for once I agree. They’ll sit there while we wrap up Poland, and his feeling is that once it’s an accomplished fact, we can all get round the negotiating table and get back to the status quo. Britain, as he informed us, is not our natural enemy.”

“Do you agree, Herr Admiral?”

“He’s right enough there, but the British are a stubborn lot, Hans, and Chamberlain is not popular. Since Munich his own people despise him.” Canaris stubbed out his cigarette ‘If there was a change at the top, Churchill for example . “ He shrugged. ”Who knows?“

“And what would we do?‘

“Implement Case Yellow Invade the Low Countries and France and drive whatever army the British had brought across the channel into the sea.”

There was a pause before Ritter said, “Could this be done‘’

“I think so, Hans, as long as the Americans don’t interfere. Under the Führer’s inspired leadership we have reoccupied the Rhmeland, absorbed Austria and Czechoslovakia plus one or two bits and pieces. I have no doubt we’ll win in Poland ‘

“But afterwards, Herr Admiral? The French, the British‘’

“Ah, well now we come down to why the Führer kept me back when everyone else left.”

“A special project, Herr Admiral?”

“You could say that He wants us to blow up the Suez Canal on the 1st. of September, the day we invade Poland‘

Ritter, in the act of snapping his cigarette case open, said, “Good God1‘

Canans took the case from him and helped himself. “He got the idea from this Colonel Rommel who commanded the Führer’s escort battalion for the occupation of the Sudetenland He thinks highly of Colonel Rommel and with reason and there is a certain mad logic to the idea I mean, the Suez Canal is the direct link to the British Empire. Cut it and all shipping to India, the Far East and Australia would have to go by way of Africa and the Cape of Good Hope. The military implications speak for themselves.“

“But Herr Admiral, how on earth would we get men and equipment into the area?”

Canans shook his head. “No, Hans, you’ve got it wrong. We’re not talking direct military action here, we’re talking sabotage. The Führer wants us, the Abwehr, to blow up the Suez Canal on the day we invade Poland. Put the damn thing out of action. Close it down so fully that it would take a year or so to open it again.”

“What a coup. It would shock the world,” Ritter said “More to the point, it would shock the British to the core and make them realize we mean business. At least that’s the way our beloved Führer sees it.” Canans sighed. “Of course, how the hell we are to accomplish this is another matter, but we’ll have to come up with something, at least on paper, and that’s where you come in, Hans.”

“I see, Herr Admiral.”

The limousine pulled in to the kerb outside the Abwehr offices at 74—6 Tirpitz Ufer. The Petty Officer hurried round to open the door for Canans and Ritter n scrambled out after him. The young Luftwaffe officer was frowning slightly.

Canaris said, “Are you all right?”

“Fine, Herr Admiral. It’s just that there’s something stirring at the back of my mind, something that could suit our purposes.”

“Really?” Canaris smiled and led the way up the steps, pausing at the door.

“Well, that is good news, but sooner rather than later, Hans, remember that,” and he led the way inside.

==========

It was perhaps an hour later and Canaris was seated at his desk working his way through a mass of papers, his two favourite dachshunds asleep in their basket in the corner, when there was a knock at the door and Ritter entered with a file in one hand and a rolled-up map under his arm. He limped forward, leaning on his stick.

“Could I have a word, Herr Admiral, on this Suez Canal venture?”

Canaris sat back. “So soon, Hans?”

“As I said, there was something at the back of my mind, and when I got to my office I remembered. A report I received last month from a professor of archaeology here at the University, Professor Otto Muller. He’s recently returned from Southern Arabia. Intends to go back there soon. He needs additional funding.”

“And what has this to do with us?” Canaris asked.

“As the Herr Admiral knows, all German citizens working abroad have to make a report to us here at Abwehr Headquarters of anything of an unusual nature that they may have come across.”

“So?”

“Allow me, Herr Admiral.” Ritter went across to the map board on the far wall, unrolled the map under his arm and pinned it in place. It showed Egypt and the Suez Canal, the whole of Southern Arabia, the Red Sea and the Gulf of Aden. “As you can see, Herr Admiral, the British in Aden, the Yemen and then various Arab states along the Gulf of Aden and the Indian Ocean, Dhofar and the Oman.”

“Well?” Canaris asked, examining the map.

“You will notice Bahrein, a port on the Gulf coast. This is where Muller was working from. It belongs to Spain. Rather like Goa on the Indian coast. The Spaniards have been there for four hundred years.”

“I can imagine what the place is like,” Canaris said.

“North across the border with Saudi Arabia is the Rubh al Khali, the Empty Quarter, one of the most awesome deserts on earth.”

“And this is where Muller was operating?”

“Yes, Herr Admiral.”

“But what on earth was he doing?”

“There are remains of many ancient civilizations in the area, inscriptions and graffiti on the rocks. Muller is an expert on ancient languages. He uses a latex solution to take impressions, which are brought back here to the University.“

“And what has this to do with the Suez Canal, Hans?”

“Bear with me, Herr Admiral. The area around there called Saba has long been associated with the Queen of Sheba.”

“My God,” Canaris said and returned to his desk. “Now it’s the Bible.” He took a cigarette from a silver box. “I always understood that except for the biblical reference there has never been actual proof that she existed.”

“Oh, she did exist, I can assure you,” Ritter said. “There was a cult of the Arabian goddess, Asthar, their equivalent of Venus. In legend, the Queen of Sheba was high priestess of that cult and built a temple out there in the Empty Quarter.”

“In legend,” Canaris said.

“Muller has found what he thinks could be the ruins of it, Herr Admiral.

Naturally he kept his discovery quiet. Such an event would rival the discovery of Tutankhamen’s tomb in the Valley of the Kings. Archaeologists would descend from all over the world. As I said, he returned to Berlin for funding, but made a full description of his find in his report to Abwehr.”

Canaris frowned. “But where is this leading?”

“This place is unknown, Herr Admiral, hidden out there in the desert. Used for supplies, an aircraft, it could provide a base for a strike against the Canal.”

Canaris got up and went to the map. He examined it and turned. “A thousand miles at least from that area to the Suez Canal.”

“More like twelve hundred, Herr Admiral, but I’m sure I could find a way.”

Canaris smiled. “You usually can, Hans. All right, bring Muller to see me.”

“When, Herr Admiral?”

“Why now, of course, tonight. I intend to sleep in the office anyway.”

He returned to his papers and Ritter went out.

==========

Professor Otto Muller was a small, balding man with a wizened face tanned to the shade of old leather by constant exposure to the desert sun. When Ritter ushered him into the office to meet Canaris, Muller smiled nervously, exposing gold-capped teeth.

Canaris said, “That will do, Hans.” Ritter went out and Canaris lit a cigarette.

“So, Professor, a remarkable find. Tell me about it.”

Muller stood there like a nervous schoolboy. “I was lucky, Herr Admiral. I’ve been working in the Shabwa area for some time and one night an old Bedouin staggered into my camp dying of thirst and fever. I nursed him back to life.”

“I see.”

“They’re a strange people. Can’t bear to be in debt so he repaid me by telling me where Sheba’s temple was.” r “Payment indeed. Tell me about it.” ‘

“I first saw it as an outcrop of reddish stone, out there in the vastness of the Empty Quarter. The Herr Admiral must understand that there are sand dunes out there that are hundreds of feet high.”

“Remarkable.”

“As I got closer we entered a gorge. I had two Bedouin with me as guards. We had journeyed by camel. There was a flat plain, very hard-baked, then a gorge, a broad avenue of pillars.”

“And the temple? Tell me about that.”

Which Muller did, talking for a good half-hour while Canaris listened intently.

Finally the Admiral nodded. “Fascinating. Captain Ritter tells me you made an excellent report to Abwehr.”

“I hope I know my duty, Herr Admiral, I’m a party member.”

“Indeed,” Canaris observed dryly“Then you will no doubt be pleased to return to this place with suitable funding and do what you are told to do. This is a project the Führer himself is interested in.”

Muller drew himself up. “At your orders, Herr Admiral.”

“Good.” Canaris pressed a button on his desk. “We’ll keep you informed.”

Ritter entered. “Herr Admiral?”

“Wait outside, Professor,” Canaris said, and waited until Muller had gone out.

“He seems harmless enough, but I still have my doubts, Hans. If you used this place as a base it would require a flight of say twelve hundred miles to the Canal and what real damage could one bomber do? In fact, do we have a plane that could make the flight?”

“I’ve already had a thought,” Ritter said, “but I’d like to explore it further before sharing it with you.”

Canaris frowned. “Is this serious business, Hans?”

“I believe it could be, Herr Admiral.”

“So be it.” Canaris nodded. “I don’t need to tell you to squeeze Muller dry, details of this Dahrein place, how the Spanish run it and so on. At least they’re on our side, which could be useful.”

“I’ll see to it, sir.”

“At your soonest, Hans. A feasibility study. I’ll give you three days.”

Ritter turned and limped out and Canaris went back to his papers.

TWO

ON WEDNESDAY MORNING Canaris, after sleeping once again on the little military bed in his office, was in the bathroom shaving when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he called.

“It’s me, Herr Admiral,” Ritter replied. “And your breakfast.”

Canaris wiped his face and went out to the aroma of good coffee, and found an orderly arranging a tray on his desk, Ritter standing by the window.

“Dismissed,” Canaris said, and picked up his cup as the orderly went out. “Join me, Hans.”

“I’ve already had breakfast, Herr Admiral.”

“You must have risen early. How conscientious of you.”

“Not really, Herr Admiral. It’s just that I find difficulty sleeping.”

Canaris was immediately all sympathy. “My dear Hans, how stupid of me. I’m afraid I often forget just how difficult life must be for you.“

“The fortunes of war, Herr Admiral.” He laid a file on the desk as Canaris buttered some toast. The Admiral looked up. “What’s this?”

“Operation Sheba, Herr Admiral.”

“You mean you’ve come up with a solution?”

“I believe so.”

“You think this thing could be done?”

“Not only could it be done, Herr Admiral, I think it should be done.”

“Really.” Canaris poured coffee into the spare cup. “Then I insist that you have a cigarette and drink that while I see what you’ve got here.”

Ritter did as he was told and limped across to the window. The 3rd of April.

Soon it would be Easter and yet it rained like a bad day in November. His leg hurt, but he was damned if he was going to take a morphine pill unless he really had to. He swallowed the coffee and lit a cigarette. Behind him he heard Canaris lift the telephone.

“The Reich Chancellery, the Führer’s suite,” the Admiral said, and added after a moment, “Good morning. Canaris. I must see the Führer. Yes, most urgent.” There was a longer pause and then he said, “Excellent. Eleven o’clock.”

Ritter turned. “Herr Admiral?”

“Excellent, Hans, this plan of yours. You can come with me and tell the man yourself.”

Ratter had never ventured beyond the main reception area at the Chancellery before and what he saw was breathtaking, not only the huge doors and bronze eagles but the Marble Gallery, which was four hundred and eighty feet long, the Führer’s special pride as it was twice as long as the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles.

When they were admitted to the Führer’s enormous study they found Hitler seated at his desk. He looked up. “Something important, I trust.”

“I think so, my Führer,” Canaris said. “This is my aide, Captain Ritter.”

Hitler took in the scarred face, the stick, the medals, rose, came round the table and took Ritter’s hand. “As a soldier I salute you.”

He went back to his chair and Ritter, overwhelmed, stammered, “What can I say, my Führer?”

Canaris intervened. “The question of the Suez Canal. Captain Ritter has come up with an extraordinary plan. In fact, what is the most extraordinary thing about it is its simplicity.” He laid the file on Hitler’s desk. “Operation Sheba.”

Hitler leaned back, arms folded in an inimitable gesture. 'I'll read it later.

Tell me, Captain Ritter.“

Ritter licked dry lips. “Well, my Führer, it all started with a professor of archaeology at the University called Muller and an extraordinary find he made in Southern Arabia.“

==========

“Fascinating,” Hitler said, his eyes glowing, for his passion for architecture was intense. “I’d give anything to see that temple.” He sat back. “But go on, Captain. You use the site as a base, but how does that advance the cause?”

“The essence of the plan is its absurd simplicity. A single plane, a bomber trying to attack the Canal is an absurdity. One can never be certain of accuracy.”

“So?” Hitler said.

“There is a two-engined amphibian called the Catalina, an American plane that can drop wheels and land on the ground as well as water. It has an extraordinary cruising range. Better than sixteen hundred miles carrying a bomb load of one and a half thousand pounds.”

“Impressive,” Hitler said. “And how would such a plane be used?”

“As I say, absurdly simple, my Führer. The plane lands at our site in the desert and takes on not bombs, but mines. It flies to Egypt and lands on the Suez Canal itself. There the crew offload many mines, which will drift on the current. I would suggest somewhere near Kantra as a good spot. The crew will of course sink the Catalina, leaving on board a large quantity of our latest explosive, Helicon, which will do an enormous amount of damage to the Canal itself. I need hardly point out that the mines floating down will meet ships traveling north from Lake Timsah. I think we may count on several sinking and thus causing a further blockage.“

There was silence for a while as Hitler sat there staring into space and then he smacked a fist into his palm. “Brilliant and as you say, absurdly simple.” He frowned. “But this plane, this Catalina. Can you get hold of one?”

“There is one available for sale in Lisbon, my Führer. I thought we could buy it and start our own airline in Dahrein, a Spanish company, naturally. I’m sure there would be plenty of coastal trade.”

Hitler got up, came round the desk and clapped him on the shoulders. “Quite. I like this man, Herr Admiral. Put his plan into force at once. You have my full authorization.”

“My Führer.” Canaris led the way to the door, turned and forced himself to give the Nazi salute. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered to Ritter, turned and opened the door.

As they went along the Marble Gallery Canaris said, “You certainly covered yourself with glory there. Naturally I’ll authorize the necessary funding for the Catalina but it occurs to me that there might be a problem regarding a suitable crew. Of course, there is no reason why Germans should not be flying for a Spanish airline.”

“But much better if they were Spanish,” Ritter said.

“And where would you procure them?”

“The ranks of the SS, Herr Admiral, they have many Spanish volunteers.”

“Of course,” Canaris said. “It would be perfect.”

“I have already tracked down a suitable pilot, a man with much combat experience in the Spanish Civil War. He is at present employed as a courier pilot by the SS. I’m seeing him later this morning at Gatow airfield.”

“Good. I’ll come with you and see for myself,” Canaris said, and led the way down the marble stairs.

==========

Carlos Romero was twenty-seven; a saturnine, rather handsome young man, son of a wealthy Madrid wine merchant, he had learned to fly at sixteen, had joined the Spanish Air Force at the earliest possible moment and trained as a fighter pilot. When the Civil War came he had opted for Franco, not because he was a dedicated Fascist, but because that’s what people of his class did. He’d shot down eleven planes, and had the time of his life. He’d even flown with the German Condor Legion.

Suddenly it was all over and he didn’t want that, and then he’d got a whisper that the SS were taking Spanish volunteers. A pilot with his record they had snapped up without hesitation, employing him mainly on courier duties, ferrying high-ranking officers.

So here he was at the controls of a small Stork spotter plane a thousand feet above Berlin, an SS Brigadefuhrer behind him. He called the tower at Gatow, received permission to land and drifted down towards the airfield, bored out of his skull.

“Mother of God,” he whispered softly in Spanish, “there must be something better than this.”

==========

There was, of course, and he found it when he went into the mess and took off his flying jacket, revealing a well-tailored SS uniform in field grey. He had a small Spanish shield on his left shoulder, and wore the Spanish Order of Merit for gallantry in the field and an Iron Cross First Class for his exploits with the Condor Legion.

He was aware of Canaris first, because of his high rank, although he did not recognize him, but Ritter he did, and went forward with genuine pleasure.

“Hans Ritter, by all that’s holy.” “

Ritter got up to greet him, leaning on his stick, and shook hands. “You look well, Carlos. Spain seems a long time ago.” I “I heard about your leg. I’m sorry.”

Ritter said, “Admiral Canaris, Head of the Abwehr.” Romero got his heels together and saluted. “An honour, Herr Admiral.”

“Join us, Herr Hauptsturmfuhrer.” Canaris waved to the mess steward. Champagne.

Bollinger for preference, and three glasses.“ He turned to Romero. ”You are a courier pilot, I understand. Do you like that?“

To be frank, Herr Admiral, these milk runs of mine bore me to death.“

“Then we’ll have to see if we can find something more rewarding for you,”

Canaris said as the champagne arrived. “Tell him, Hans.”

==========

Romero finished reading the file and closed it. His face was pale and excited as he looked up. Canaris said, “Are you interested?”

“Interested?” Romero accepted a cigarette from Ritter and his hand shook. “Herr Admiral, I’m willing to go down on my knees and beg.”

Canaris laughed. “No need for that.”

Ritter said, “The Catalina would not present you with a problem?”

“Good God no, an excellent aircraft to fly.”

“And what about a crew?”

Romero sat back thinking about it. “I could manage with a second pilot and an engineer.”

“And where would we find them?” Canaris asked.

“Right here in the Spanish Legion of the SS. Like myself, Herr Admiral. I can think of two suitable candidates right now: Javier Noval, a fine pilot, and Juan Conde, an aircraft engineer of genius.”

Ritter made a note of the names. “Excellent. I’ll have them transferred to Abwehr duties along with yourself.”

“What about the explosives and the mines?” Romero asked.

“We’ll have them delivered by some suitable freighter,” Ratter told him. “There should be no problem in a place like Dahrem. You will naturally build up your credentials during the run-up to September Coastal trade, freight, that kind of thing.”

Romero nodded slowly. “But I do have a suggestion. When the time comes we could make the transfer of the mines at sea. I could land beside the freighter with no problem. From there a direct flight to the base would simplify the whole thing.”

“Excellent‘ Canans stood up. ”I think you should meet our friend Professor Muller. You can come back to town with us, drop me off on the way and then continue to the University. From now on, you deal with Captain Ritter in all things.“

“At your orders. Herr Admiral.”

“Good,” Canans said, and he turned and led the way out.

==========

Muller’s department at the University was housed in a vast echoing hall filled with artifacts of every description. Egyptian mummies, statues from Rome and Greece, amphorae retrieved from ancient wrecks at the bottom of the Mediterranean, it was all there. Ritter and Romero browsed while Muller sat at his desk in his glass office and read the Operation Sheba file. Finally he got up and went to join them.

Ritter turned. “Well, what do you think?”

Muller was highly nervous, tried to smile and failed miserably. “A wonderful idea, Herr Hauptman, but I wonder if I have the qualifications you need. I mean, I’m not a trained spy, I’m just an archaeologist.”

“This will be done, Professor, and by direct order of the Führer Does this give you a problem?”

“Good heavens no.” Muller’s face was ashen.

Romero clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Professor, I’ll look after you.”

Ritter said, That’s settled then. When Hauptsturm-fuhrer Romero leaves from Lisbon in the Catalma, you go with him, so make your preparations. I’ll be in touch.“

Ritter limped away, his stick tapping the marble. As they moved along the hall to the entrance, Romero said to him, “He’s a nervous little bastard, Ritter.”

“He’ll come to heel and that’s all that’s important‘ They went out of the main entrance and stood at the top of the steps. 'I'll make arrangements for the immediate transfer of you and Noval and Conde today. You’ll leave for Lisbon tomorrow, in civilian clothes naturally. I’ll arrange priority seats on the Lufthansa flight. As regards the purchase of the Catalma our man at the German Legation will be your banker. Once you’ve checked the plane out, report back to me on the Embassy secure phone. I’ll expect to hear from you by Thursday at the latest.“

“Mother of God, but you don’t hang about, Hans, do you?”

“I could never see the point,” Ritter said, and started down the steps to the Mercedes.

==========

The River Tagus, as someone once said, is the true reason for the existence of Lisbon, with its wide bays and many sheltered anchorages. It was from here that the great flying boats, the mighty clippers, left for America and it was here, attached to two buoys about three hundred yards out to sea from the waterfront, that Carlos Romero found the Catalina. He had arrived at the dock close to the Avenida da India together with Javier Noval and Juan Conde ten minutes early for the appointment with the owner’s agent, a man called da Gama. They stood at the edge of the dock looking out at the amphibian.

“It looks good to me,” said Noval, a tough young man around Romero’s age, who wore an old leather flying jacket.

Conde was older than either of them, thirty-five and stocky. He also wore a flying jacket and looked across at the Catalina, shading his eyes from the sun.

“What do you think, Juan, can you handle it?”

“Just try me.”

A motor boat nosed in to the dock and a man in brown suit and Panama hat waved from the stern. “Senor Romero?” he called in Spanish. “Fernando da Gama. Come aboard.”

They went down the steps and joined him, and he nodded to the boatman, who took the motorboat away.

“She looks good?” da Gama suggested.

“She looks bloody marvelous,” Romero told him. “What’s the story?”

“A local shipping line had the idea of regular flights down to the island of Madeira. Purchased the Catalina in the United States last year. It has performed magnificently, but they wanted to concentrate on passengers and the capacity is limited — too limited for there to be any money in it. May I ask what your requirement would be?”

Romero stayed very close to the truth. “General freight in the Red Sea and Gulf of Aden, flying as far as Goa perhaps. It’s a new venture.”

“I know that area,” da Gama said. “The Catalina would be perfect.”

They bumped alongside a small floating dock and as the boatman killed his motor, Noval and Conde grabbed a line and tied up. Da Gama opened the cabin door and led the way in. Romero looked into the cockpit with conscious pleasure, took one of the pilot’s seats and reached for the control column. Noval took the other seat and examined the instrument panel. “What a beauty ‘

Da Gama, Conde at his shoulder, opened a file. 'I'll just give you approximate dimensions. Length sixty-three feet, height twenty, wingspan a hundred and four.

The twin engines are Pratt and Whitney, twelve hundred horsepower each. Cruising speed a hundred and eighty miles an hour. Remarkably long range. Without freight it is possible to fly for four thousand miles before the need to refuel I can’t think of another aircraft that could do this.“

“Neither can I,” Romero told him and got up. “You can take us back now.”

As they scrambled into the motor boat da Gama tried the usual tack. “Of course, a number of people are interested ‘

The motor boat pulled away and Romero said, “Drop the sales pitch, my friend, just draw up the contract. I’ll give you my lawyer’s name, we sign tomorrow and you’ll receive a cheque for your asking price. Satisfied?” Da Gama looked astonished ‘But of course, Senor.“ Romero took out a cigarette and accepted a light from Noval. He looked back at the Catalma and blew out a long plume of smoke.

“Looks like we’re in business, boys,” he said.

Baron Oswald von Hoymngen-Heune was Minister to the German Legation in Lisbon.

An aristocrat and career diplomat of the old school, he was no Nazi and, like most of his staff, was thankful to be as far away from Berlin as possible.

Initially wary of the strange Spaniard who was a Hauptsturmfuhrer in the SS, and resigned to following orders from Berlin, he had been pleasantly surprised, had taken to Romero.

He rose to greet him now as the Spaniard entered his office. “My dear Romero, it went well?”

“Couldn’t have been better. Da Gama will be in touch with the lawyer you gave me. You provide the funding and we conclude tomorrow. I’ll need to speak to Captain Ritter at Abwehr Headquarters at once, by the way.”

“Of course.” The Baron reached for the red secure phone on his desk and placed the call. “It shouldn’t take long.” He stood up. “Cognac?” ‘Why not?“

Romero lit a cigarette and sat on one of the sofas. The baron handed him a glass and sat opposite. “All very intriguing, this business.” ‘And also highly secret.“

“But of course. I’m not prying In fact, I’d rather not know ‘ He raised his glass ’But I’ll drink to your success anyway.”

At that moment the red phone rang. Romero said, “With your permission?”

“But of course. I’ll leave you to it.”

The Baron went out and Romero picked up the phone. “Hans, is that you?”

“Who else?” Ritter said. “How did it go?”

“Perfect,” Romero told him. “A superb aircraft. I couldn’t be more pleased. Tell the Admiral we’re on our way.”

==========

Ritter knocked on the door and went in. Canaris was drinking tea, one of the dachshunds on his lap. He looked up.

“What is it, Hans?”

“Romero has just spoken to me from Lisbon, Herr Admiral. The Catalina is perfect and the sale will be concluded tomorrow.”

“Excellent.” Canaris nodded. “Do an additional report bringing everything up to date and I’ll make an appointment for us to see the Führer.”

“At once, Herr Admiral.”

As Ritter limped to the door, Canaris called, “Oh, and Hans.”

“Yes, Herr Admiral?”

“We’ll take Muller with us.”

==========

The summons came sooner than they had expected and took them to the Chancellery for an appointment at ten o’clock that night. They picked up Muller at the University on the way and the news that he was to meet the Führer shocked him completely.

When they reached the reception area of Hitler’s suite the aide on duty rose to greet them. “I understand you have a report for the Führer, Herr Admiral.”

“That’s right,” Canaris said.

The aide held out his hand. “He would like to read it before seeing you,”

“Of course.”

Canaris gave him the file; the aide opened the door and went in. Canaris nodded to the other two and they sat down.

Muller was trembling slightly and Canaris said, “Are you all right?”

“For God’s sake, how do you expect me to feel, Admiral. This is the Führer we’re talking about. What do I say?”

“As little as possible,” Canaris told him and added with some irony, “Remember he’s a great man and behave accordingly.”

The door opened and the aide appeared. “Gentlemen, our Führer will see you now.”

==========

The room was a place of shadows, and Hitler sat at the enormous desk with only the light of a single brass lamp. He was reading the file, closed it and looked up.

“Still brilliant, Herr Admiral An absolutely first-class job.”

“Captain Ritter really deserves all the credit.”

“No, Herr Admiral, I think after all this that Major Ritter would be more appropriate In fact, I warn you that I could well steal him for my own staff.”

He stood up and Ritter said the obvious thing. “You do me too much honour, my Führer”

Hitler came round the corner of his desk and approached Muller ‘Professor Muller, isn’t it? An amazing discovery and you sacrifice it for the sake of the Reich.“

And Muller, shaking almost uncontrollably, said exactly the right thing. “For you, my Führer, for you.”

Hitler clapped him on the shoulders. “A great day is coming, gentlemen, the greatest in Germany’s history.” He walked slowly away and the desk lamp threw his shadow across the huge map of the world He stood there, arms folded. “You may go, gentlemen.”

Canans nodded to the other two, jerked his head and led the way out.

==========

Later, after dropping Muller off at the University, Canans told the driver to take them back to Tirpitz Ufer. As they turned into a side street they came to a cafe on the corner, windows lighted.

Canaris leaned forward ‘Stop here’ He turned to Ritter. “A nightcap, coffee and schnapps. We’ll toast your promotion, Major.”

“My pleasure, Herr Admiral.”

The cafe was almost deserted and the proprietor was overwhelmed. He ushered them to a booth by the window and hurriedly took the order. Canans pulled out his cigarette case and proffered it to Ritter, who took one and gave him a light.

“He was pleased,” the Admiral said and blew out smoke. “Muller was a mess though. He’s not strong enough.”

“I agree,” Ritter said. “We need a professional to back him up.”

The proprietor brought coffee and schnapps on a tray and Canans waved him away.

“You’ll have to find somebody, an old Abwehr hand. Somebody reliable.”

“No problem, Herr Admiral.”

“You know this thing is so simple it could work,” Canans said and poured schnapps from the bottle into two glasses.

“I agree,” Ritter said.

Canans nodded. “There’s only one problem.”

“And what’s that, Herr Admiral?”

“It won’t win us this coming war, my friend, nothing can do that. You see, Hans, we’re all going straight to hell, but here’s to your promotion anyway ‘

He raised the glass of schnapps and drained it at a single swallow.

DAHREIN - August 1939

THREE

THE WIND, BLOWING across the Gulf from Africa, still carried some of the warmth of the day to Kane as he stood on the deck of the launch, listening.

There was no moon and yet the sky seemed to be alive, to glow with the incandescence of millions of stars. He breathed deeply, inhaling the freshness, and followed a school of flying-fish with his eyes as they curved out of the sea in a shower of phosphorescent water.

A door opened and light from the saloon momentarily flooded out as Piroo, the Hindu deck-hand, came up the companionway with a mug of steaming coffee.

Kane sipped some of it gratefully. “That’s good.”

“The Kantara is late tonight, Sahib,” Piroo said.

Kane nodded and checked his watch. “Almost two a.m. I wonder what the old devil O’Hara is playing at?”

“Perhaps it’s the whisky again.”

Kane grinned. “More than likely.”

As he finished his coffee, Piroo touched him on the arm. “I think she comes, Sahib.”

Kane listened intently. At first he was conscious only of the slap of the waves against the hull of the launch and the whisper of the wind, and then he became aware of a muffled, gentle throbbing across the water. In the distance, he saw the green pin-point of light that was the starboard navigation light of the Kantam.

“Not before time,” he said softly.

He went into the wheelhouse and switched on the navigation lights, and when he pressed the starter, the engine coughed into life. He waited until the steamer was almost upon them, before he opened the throttle gently and took the launch forward on a course which would bring them together.

The old freighter was doing no more than two or three knots, and Piroo put out the fenders as Kane took the launch in close. A Lascar appeared at the rail and tossed down a line which Piroo quickly secured. A rope ladder followed a moment later, and Kane cut the engines and went out on deck.

The high, rust-streaked side of the Kantara reared into the night, the single stack a long black shadow above. As he climbed the ladder, Kane wondered, and not for the first time, exactly what it was that kept this heap of scrap-iron floating.

He scrambled over the rail and said in Hindi, “Where’s the Captain?”

The Lascar shrugged. “In his cabin.”

He quickly climbed a companionway to the upper deck and knocked on the door of the captain’s cabin. There was no reply. After a moment, he opened it and went in. The cabin was in darkness and the stench was appalling. He fumbled for the light switch and turned it on.

O’Hara was on his bunk. He lay on his back in singlet and pants, mouth open, exposing decaying yellow teeth. Empty whisky bottles rolled across the floor with the motion of the ship, and Kane wrinkled his nose in disgust and went out on deck.

Another Lascar was waiting for him. “The mate, he say you go to bridge,” the man said.

Kane crossed the deck quickly and climbed an iron ladder to the bridge. Guptas, the mate, was at the wheel, his turbaned head disembodied in the light from the binnacle.

Kane leaned in the doorway and lit a cigarette. “How long has he been like that?”

Guptas grinned. “Ever since we left Aden. It should take him at least two days to sleep this one off.

“What a way to run a ship,” Kane said. “What happened this time, anyway? Why didn’t you call at Dahrein on the run-in from Bombay, as usual?”

“We had cargo for Mombasa,” Guptas told him. “After that, Aden.”

“Skiros wasn’t too pleased,” Kane said. “I presume you’ve got the stuff all right.”

Guptas nodded. “They should be bringing it up now. By the way, we have a passenger this trip.”

“A passenger?” Kane said incredulously. “On this tub?”

“An American woman,” Guptas said. “She wanted to leave Aden in a hurry. We were the only ship available and the Catalina wasn’t due for a week.”

Kane flicked his cigarette in a glowing spiral into the night.

“Then I won’t hang about. No sense in waking her up. She might get curious.”

Guptas nodded in agreement. “I think that would be wise. A strange thing happened just before dawn yesterday.”

“What was that?”

“The Catalina - Romero’s Catalina. We saw it on the horizon about thirty miles out. It landed beside some Portuguese freighter. They were offloading crates.”

“So what’s the difference between that and what we’re doing now? So Romero’s doing a little smuggling too.” Kane shrugged. “We’ve all got to get by. I’ll see you next month.” And he went down the ladder to the deck.

He leaned over the rail and watched two Lascars lower an oil drum down to Piroo on the deck of the launch. A voice said quietly from behind, “Do you happen to have a light?”

He turned quickly. She was rather tall and the smooth rounded face might have suggested weakness had it not been for the firm mouth. She wore a scarf and a light duster coat.

He held out a match in his cupped hands. “Rather late for a promenade round the deck.”

She blew smoke out and leaned against the rail. “I couldn’t sleep. The facilities for passengers on this ship are strictly limited.”

“That I can believe.”

“A strange place to meet a fellow-American.”

He grinned. “We pop up everywhere these days.”

She leaned over the rail and looked down at the launch. “That’s your boat, I presume?”

He nodded. “I’m a deep-sea fisherman out of Bahrein. Got caught in a storm and ran out of fuel. It’s lucky the Kantara came along.”

“I suppose it is,” she said.

Her perfume hung disturbingly in the air and, for some reason, he could think of nothing more to say. And then Piroo hailed him from the launch and he smiled.

'I'll have to be going.“

“Ships that pass in the night,” she said.

He went down the ladder quickly and Piroo cast off the line. The Kantara pulled away from them at once and, when he looked up, he could see the woman in the yellow glare of the deck lights, leaning over the rail watching them until they faded into the night.

He dismissed her from his mind for the moment, because there were more important things to think of The two-gallon oil can stood on the deck where Piroo had left it Kane checked it quickly and then went below to the saloon.

Piroo had the air tank ready, and Kane stripped to his shorts and the Hindu helped him on with it. They went up on deck. Piroo vanished into the wheelhouse and emerged with a large, powerful spot-lamp on a long cable, specially designed for underwater use, which plugged into the boat’s lighting system.

A ring bolt had been welded to each end of the oil can, and Piroo threaded a manilla rope through them as Kane pulled on his diving mask and gripped the mouthpiece of his breathing tube firmly between his teeth. He took the lamp in one hand and vaulted over the side.

For a moment, he paused to adjust the flow of oxygen and then he swam down in a long, sweeping curve that brought him underneath the hull.

The sensation of being alone in a silent world, of floating in space, was somehow accentuated by the circumstances The water gleamed with a sort of phosphorescent fire all around him, and transparent fish, attracted by the lamp, glowed in its light.

After a moment, the oil can dropped down through the water. He grabbed the manilla rope with one hand and quickly passed it through two more ring bolts set in the keel of the launch.

He turned from securing it and paused, held by the wonder of the scene. The sea seemed alive with fish, incandescent, glowing like candles in its depths. A school of barracuda flashed by like silver streaks, and then an eight-foot shark swung into the beam of the lamp and poised there, watching him. As it moved forward, he pulled his breathing tube from his mouth, emitting a stream of silvery bubbles The shark altered course with a flick of its tail and disappeared into the gloom.

He swam up to the surface quickly and Piroo pulled him up over the low rail ‘Everything all right, Sahib?“

Kane nodded as he unstrapped the tank. “No trouble at all. One shark, and he was only trying to be playful‘

The Hindu grinned, teeth flashing in the darkness, and handed him a towel, and Kane went below. The water had been surprisingly cold, and he rubbed himself down briskly and then dressed.

When he went back on deck, the wind was freshening and Piroo brought him more coffee. As he drank it, Kane caught a last glimpse of the Kantara’s navigation lights on the horizon, and remembered the woman.

She had certainly been attractive and he wondered what she was doing on an old tub like the Kantara. There could be no satisfactory answer, of course.

For a moment, he seemed to catch a faint touch of her perfume on the night air He smiled wryly and, going into the wheelhouse, started the engines and took the launch forward into the night.

FOUR

THEY CAME INTO BAHREIN in the early afternoon. As the launch rounded the curved promontory crowded with its white houses, a two-masted dhow, lateen sails bellying in the Gulf breeze, moved out of harbour on the long haul across the Arabian Sea to India.

The Kantara was unloading at the jetty. On the white curve of the beach, fishermen sat patiently mending their nets and a few children played naked in the shallows.

Kane cut the engines and signalled to Piroo, who was standing in the stern, anchor ready in his hands. It disappeared into the green waters of the harbour with a splash. For a moment longer, the launch glided forward and then, with a gentle tug, it came to a halt fifty or sixty yards from the crumbling stone jetty that formed the east side of the harbour.

Piroo disappeared into the cabin, and Kane stepped out of the wheelhouse. He lit a cigarette and walked slowly along to the stern, where he stood with one foot on the brass rail, the peak of his battered and salt-stained cap pulled well forward to shield his eyes from the intense glare of the sun.

He was a tall, powerful man in faded blue denims and sweat-shirt. His brown hair was bleached by the sun and badly needed cutting, and there was a three days’ growth of beard on his chin. The sun-dried skin of his face was drawn tightly over prominent cheekbones and his eyes were deep-set in their sockets, calm and expressionless, always staring into the middle distance or beyond the next hill as if perpetually searching for something.

As he looked across the harbour, a small rowing boat appeared from between two moored dhows. The brawny Arab who pulled on the oars was being urged on by a fat, bearded official in crumpled khaki uniform and white head-cloth. There was a slight cough from behind, and Kane reached out a hand without turning round.

Piroo passed him a large gin-sling in which ice tinkled, and said gently, “Perhaps Captain Gonzalez will wish to search the boat, Sahib?”

Kane shrugged. “That’s what he’s paid for.”

He sipped the drink slowly, savouring its coldness with conscious pleasure, and watched the boat approach. As it bumped against the side of the launch Gonzalez smiled up at him, his face shiny with sweat, a paper Japanese fan fluttering in his right hand in a vain effort to keep the flies at bay.

Kane grinned down at him. “Looks as if the heat’s getting to you, Juan.”

Gonzalez shrugged, and replied in perfect English, “Only duty compelled me to put in an appearance on the quay in my official capacity when the mail boat came in from Aden.” He mopped his face with a corner of his head-cloth. “Where are you from this time?”

Kane finished his drink and handed the glass to Piroo, who was still standing at his elbow. “Mukalla,” he said. “I had some letters to deliver for Marie Perret.”

Gonzalez kissed his fingers. “Ah, the delightful Mademoiselle Perret. We are privileged men. Here on earth a glimpse of Paradise. Are you carrying any cargo?”

Kane shook his head. “We tried for a shark on the way back, but he took half my line as well as the hook.”

Gonzalez raised a hand and rolled his eyes. “You Americans - so energetic, and for what?”

“Are you coming aboard to check?” Kane said.

Gonzalez shook his head. “Would I insult a friend?” He waved to the oarsman to push off. “I hurry home to a tall drink and the cool hand of my wife.”

Kane watched the boat disappear amongst the mass of moored fishing dhows that floated a few yards from the beach. After a while, he tossed his cigarette down into the water and turned from the rail. “I think I’ll go for a swim,“ he said.

”Get the deck swabbed down, Piroo. Afterwards, you can go ashore to visit that girl of yours.“

He went below to the cabin and changed quickly. When he came back on deck, he was wearing an old pair of khaki shorts, and a cork-handled knife in leather sheath swung from the belt at his waist.

Piroo was standing by the rail, hauling vigorously on a rope, and a moment later a large canvas bucket appeared. He emptied its contents over the deck and threw it back into the water.

Kane didn’t bother with a diving mask. He went past Piroo on the run and dived cleanly over the rail. At this point, the harbour was some twenty feet deep, and he swam down through the clear green water, revelling in its coolness. For a brief moment he hovered over the bottom, and then he kicked against the white sand and started up.

When he had almost reached the surface, he changed direction slightly until he was underneath the hull. The two-gallon oil can still hung suspended beneath the keel as he had left it.

He examined it and then quickly surfaced. Piroo was standing at the rail, the canvas bucket in his hands. Kane nodded briefly, took a deep breath, and dived again.

When he reached the oil can, he took out his knife and slashed the rope which secured it in place. At that moment the canvas bucket bumped against his back and he pulled it towards him with his free hand and pushed the oil can inside.

He jerked twice on the rope and the bucket was hoisted smoothly to the surface.

He was in no hurry. He swam down to the white sand of the harbour bottom again and then floated lazily upwards in a stream of sparkling bubbles. When he surfaced and hauled himself over the rail, the deck was deserted. A towel was lying on top of the hatch, neatly folded and waiting for him. He quickly dried his body and, as he went below, he was rubbing his damp hair briskly.

Piroo was squatting on the floor of the cabin. The oil can was between his knees and he expertly prised open the lid with a chisel. His hand disappeared inside and came out holding a bulky, oilskin package. He raised his face enquiringly.

“Shall I open, Sahib?”

Kane shook his head. “We’ll let Skiros have that pleasure. After all, he’s paying. Better get rid of that can, though.”

The Hindu took the can and went up on deck. Kane hefted the package in his hands for a second, a slight frown on his face, then he dropped it on to the table and went and lay on the bunk.

Tiredness flooded through him in a sudden wave and he remembered that he hadn’t slept for the past twenty-four hours. He closed his eyes and relaxed. There was the unmistakable bump of a boat against the side of the launch, and Piroo appeared in the doorway. “It is Sehm, Sahib.”

For a moment Kane sat on the edge of the bunk, a frown on his face, and then he slipped a hand under the pillow and took out a .45-cahbre Colt automatic. He pushed it into the waistband of his pants, brushed past Piroo, and went up on deck.

A tall Arab was climbing over the rail. He was dressed in immaculate white robes, and his head-cloth was bound with cords of black silk. Cold eyes flashed in a swarthy face and his mouth was thin and twisted by an old scar, which disappeared into the beard.

“What the hell do you want?” Kane demanded.

Sehm fingered the silver haft of the curved jambiya at his belt. “Skiros sent me,” he said. “I have come for the package.”

“Then you can bloody well go back to Skiros and tell him to come himself,” Kane said. “I’m particular who I have on my boat.”

“One day you will go too far,” Sehm said softly. “One day I may have to kill you.”

“I’m frightened to death.”

The Arab controlled his anger with difficulty. “The package.”

Kane pulled the Colt from his waistband and cocked it. “Get off my boat.”

In the sudden dangerous silence which followed, a cask boomed hollowly from across the harbour as a labourer rolled it along the wharf. Selim’s hand tightened over the hilt of his jambiya, and Kane took a quick pace forward, lifted a foot and pushed him back over the low rail.

The two Arab seamen who were sitting at the oars of the heavy rowing boat hastily pulled their master over the stern, where he sprawled for a moment, coughing up water, sodden robes clinging to his body.

Kane stood with a foot on the rail, the Colt held negligently in one hand. For a moment Sehm glared up at him and then he snapped his fingers and the two oarsmen pushed off from the launch, faces expressionless.

On the other side of the rusty freighter at the jetty, a large, three-masted dhow was moored, which Kane recognized as Selim’s boat, the Farah. The rowing boat moved slowly towards it and, after watching for a few moments, he turned from the rail.

Piroo shook his head slowly and his face was troubled. “That was a bad thing to do, Sahib. Sehm will not forget.”

Kane shrugged. “Let me worry about that‘ He yawned lazily as the tiredness took hold of him again. ”I think I’ll sleep for a while. Let me know when Skiros turns up.“

Piroo nodded obediently and squatted on the deck, his back against the rail, as Kane went below.

He pushed the Colt back under the pillow, poured himself a drink, and then lit a cigarette and went to the bunk. He lay with his head against the pillow, staring at the roof of the cabin, watching the blue smoke twist and swirl in the current from the air conditioner, and thought about Selim.

He was well known in every port from the Red Sea to the Persian Gulf. He traded in anything that would make him a profit — gold, arms, even human beings. That was the part of his activities which Kane couldn’t stomach. There was still a heavy demand for slaves, particularly female, in most Arab countries. Selim did his best to satisfy that demand. His speciality was young girls.

Kane wondered how Selim would react if the Farah happened to meet with an accident one dark night. It could be simply arranged. A charge of that plastic waterproof explosive he had used on the salvage job at Mukalla would do the trick. It was a pleasant thought. His eyes closed and the darkness moved in on him.

==========

He had slept for no more than an hour when a gentle pressure on his shoulder caused him to awaken. Piroo was standing by the bunk.

Kane pushed himself up on one elbow. “What is it — Skiros?”

The Hindu nodded gravely. “He is waiting on the jetty, Sahib.”

Kane swung his legs to the floor, stood up and stretched. “Okay, you’d better bring him across in the dinghy.”

He went up on deck, the Hindu at his heels. Skiros was standing on the edge of the jetty, his face shaded by a large Panama hat. He was wearing a soiled white linen suit, and a slight breeze lifted from the water against him, moulding his grotesque figure.

As Piroo dropped down into the dinghy and sculled rapidly towards him, the Greek raised his malacca cane and called cheerfully, “Is it safe for me to come across? I’ve already had one bath today.”

Kane waved a hand. “I’ll have a drink waiting for you.”

He watched Skiros negotiate the iron ladder pinned to the side of the jetty and safely step into the dinghy, and then he went below. He had just finished mixing two gin-slings when the dinghy bumped against the hull of the launch. A moment later Skiros creaked heavily down the stairs and entered the cabin.

He flopped into a chair with a groan. “Why the hell do you have to anchor your boat in the middle of the harbour? Why can’t you tie up at one of the jetties like everybody else?”

Sweat stained his jacket in great patches and trickled along the folds of his fat face. He produced a red silk handkerchief and mopped the worst of it away, then removed his Panama and proceeded to fan himself. His hair was shiny with pomade and carefully combed, and his tiny black eyes sparkled with cunning.

Kane handed him one of the drinks. “You should know me by now. I don’t trust anybody in this damned town. Let’s say I prefer to have a moat around me.”

Skiros shook his head ‘Crazy Americans. I shall never understand you ’ He sipped appreciatively at his drink and then placed it carefully on the table. “I believe you had a little trouble with Selim?”

Kane lit a cigarette ‘I wouldn’t call it trouble. I simply tossed him off my boat. Since when has he been working for you, anyway?“

The Greek shrugged, and took his time over lighting an oily black cheroot. “I find him useful, now and then He does the odd trip to India for me when it’s necessary. I only sent him this afternoon because I was busy with something else.”

Kane frowned. “Well, don’t send him again. I don’t like his smell I once picked up four slaves he dumped overboard three miles out in the Gulf when a British gunboat was on his heels.”

Skiros shrugged and raised one hand in a gesture of submission. “All right, so you don’t like the way he makes his money, but take a tip from me. He’s lost a lot of face over the way you treated him this afternoon From now on I’d be extremely careful if I were you.“

Kane pushed the oilskin package across the table. “Let’s get down to business.”

Skiros produced a clasp knife and proceeded to cut open the package carefully.

“Did you have any trouble?”

Kane shook his head. “I was at the rendezvous just after midnight. The boat was late, and O’Hara was drunk as usual Guptas was in charge. He told me something interesting ‘

“What was that?”

“They saw the Catahna about thirty miles out, offloading from a Portuguese freighter ‘

Skiros laughed. “So Romero’s developed sticky fingers too. That is interesting What about customs when you came m?”

Kane shrugged. “No trouble there. Gonzalez didn’t even come on board. All that business with the oil can under the keel was a waste of time.”

Skiros shook his head ‘Nothing is a waste of time in this work. One day, when you least expect it, he will take it into his head to perform his duties conscientiously ’ He removed the outer wrappings of the package as he spoke, and revealed a neat stack of Indian rupees.

As Skiros counted the bundles, Kane shook his head 'I'll never understand this racket. Gold smuggled into India, rupees smuggled out‘

Skiros smiled. “It’s all a question of exchange. In this modern world it is really so easy to make money. One doesn’t need to steal at all.” His face was shiny with sweat once more. He held his hands lightly over the stack of bank-notes and sighed. “Ah, my friend, if you knew the effect money has on me.

When I moved here from Goa six months ago I’d no idea what a gold mine the place is.”

Kane poured himself another drink. “Why don’t you try spending some of it once in a while?”

Skiros shrugged. “I started life on a mountain farm in northern Greece. The fields were more stones than soil. My mother was an old woman at twenty-five, and one year, when the crops failed in the drought, my two sisters died of starvation. It is something I have never forgotten. That is why I live only to make money. I gloat over the size of my bank balance. I begrudge every penny I have to pay out.”

Kane grinned. “While we’re on the subject of paying out, I’ll take my cut now.

Dollars as usual, if you don’t mind.”

Skiros laughed so that the flesh trembled on his huge body. “But I would never forget you, my friend. After all, you are an essential part of my whole organization. The king-pin, I believe you call it.”

“Skip the flattery and let’s have the cash,” Kane said.

Skiros produced a bulging wallet and proceeded to count out hundred-dollar bills. His hands were sweating, and he placed each bill reluctantly upon the table. When he had reached twenty, he paused, then added five more. “There you are, my friend,” he said. “We agreed on two thousand, but I give you a bonus of five hundred dollars. Let no man say Skiros does not reward good service.”

Kane swept the bills into the table drawer. “You old spider. You know damned well, most of it will come back to you, either over the bar at your hotel or across the gambling tables.”

Skiros laughed again, his face crinkling so that the eyes almost disappeared, and pushed himself to his feet. “Now I must go.” He moved to the door and then paused. “But I am forgetting some important news.” He turned slowly. “A woman came in from Aden on the boat this afternoon. An American named Cunningham — Mrs Ruth Cunningham. Extremely pretty. She has been asking for you.” x Kane stiffened, a surprised frown crossing his face. “I don’t know anyone called Cunningham.”

Skiros shrugged. “She appears to know you, or to know of you at least. She is staying at my hotel. I told her I would be seeing you, and she asked me to give you a message. She would like you to come to the hotel. She said it was most important.”

Kane still frowned down at the table, leaning forward, his weight on his hands After a slight pause Skiros said, “You will come?”

Kane straightened up and nodded. “Sure, I’ll come. I’ll be there some time this evening.”

Skiros nodded ‘Good, I shall tell her.“ He smiled. ”Don’t look so worried.

Perhaps she is only a tourist. Maybe she wishes to charter your boat to go spear-fishing along the reef.“

Kane nodded slowly. “Yes, you’re probably right.” But he didn’t believe that was the reason — not for a moment — and, after Skiros had gone, he went back to the bunk and lay staring at the ceiling, groping back into the past, trying to place Ruth Cunningham But it was no good. The name meant nothing to him.

He glanced at his watch. It was just after three, and for a little while longer he lay there; then, with a sigh of exasperation, he swung his legs to the floor and started to dress.

He pulled on his faded denims and a sweat-shirt and went up on deck. Piroo was lounging against the rail, head bowed against his chest so that only the top of his white turban was visible. Kane stirred him slightly with one foot, and the Hindu came awake at once and rose easily to his feet. “I’m going ashore,” Kane said. “What about you?” Piroo shrugged. “I think not, Sahib. Later, perhaps. I will row you across to the jetty and then return with the dinghy. It would be wiser. Selim might return.

Kane nodded. “Maybe you’ve got a point. If he does, you’ll find my Colt underneath the pillow. Don’t hesitate to use it. I’ve got more friends round here than he has.”

He dropped over the side into the dinghy, and Piroo took the oars and pulled rapidly towards the crumbling stone jetty. When they reached it, Kane stepped on to the iron ladder and climbed it quickly. As his eyes drew level with the top of the jetty, he saw a woman sitting on a large stone a few feet away, watching him.

He moved forward and she got to her feet and came to meet him. She was dressed in an expensive white linen dress, a blue silk scarf was bound round her head, peasant-fashion, and she wore sunglasses.

When she removed them, he recognized her at once as the woman he had met on the Kantara the previous night.

She smiled uncertainly, and there was puzzlement in her voice ‘You again! But I was looking for Captain Kane - Captain Gavin Kane.“

“That’s me,” he said. “You’ll be Mrs Cunningham What can I do for you?”

She frowned and shook her head in bewilderment ‘Mr Andrews, the American Consul in Aden, advised me to look you up. He told me you were an archaeologist. That you were an expert on Southern Arabia.“

He smiled slightly. “I presume, you mean I don’t look the part. Andrews was right on both counts. I am an archaeologist among other things, and I do know something about Southern Arabia. In what way can I help you?“

She stared out over the harbour, a slight frown on her face, and then she turned and looked at him coolly from steady grey eyes. “I want you to find my husband, and I’m willing to pay highly for your services.”

He reached for a cigarette and lit it slowly. “How high?”

She shrugged and said calmly. “Five thousand dollars now and another five when, and if, you find him.”

For several moments they stood looking at each other and then he sighed. “Let’s discuss this over a cold drink. I know just the place.” And he took her arm, and they went along the jetty to the waterfront.

FIVE

THEY DIDN’T TALK much on the way to the hotel. Ruth Cunningham replaced her sunglasses and gazed about her with obvious interest, and Kane employed the time in studying her.

As they turned off the jetty and moved along the waterfront, he decided that Skiros had been wrong. She was not pretty — she was beautiful. The long slim lines of her were revealed to perfection by the simple linen dress as she walked. It had been a long time since he had talked to a woman like her — to a woman of his own kind.

The hotel was a tall, slender building with a crumbling facade and one narrow entrance that fronted on to the street. Inside, an ancient fan slowly revolved in the stifling heat, and he led the way across the entrance hall and into the bar.

There was no one there and the french windows which gave access to the terrace outside, creaked in the slight breeze from the harbour Ruth Cunningham removed her sun glasses and frowned. “Isn’t there any service in this place?” Kane shrugged ‘There isn’t a great deal of action around here. Most people sleep during the afternoon. They figure it’s too hot to do anything else.“

She smiled. “Well, they say travel broadens the mind.” He went behind the bar.

“Why don’t you go and sit on the terrace while I get you a drink? There’s a wind coming in from the sea. You might find it a little cooler.”

She nodded, walked out through the french windows and sat down in a large cane chair shaded by a gaudy umbrella. Kane opened the ancient icebox that stood under the bar and took out two large bottles of lager, so cold the moisture had frosted on the outside. He knocked off the caps on the edge of the zinc-topped bar, poured the contents into two tall, thin glasses and went out to the terrace.

She smiled up at him gratefully when he handed her the glass, and quickly swallowed some of the beer. She sighed. “I’d forgotten anything could be so cold. This place is like a furnace Frankly, I can’t imagine anyone living here from choice.”

He offered her a cigarette. “Oh, it has its points.” She smiled slightly ‘I’m afraid they’ve escaped me so far.“

She leaned back against the faded cushions of her chair ‘Mr Andrews told me you were from New York. That you were a lecturer in archaeology at Columbia ’

He nodded. “That was a long time ago.”

She said casually, “Are you married?”

He shrugged. “Divorced. My wife and I never hit it off.”

Ruth Cunningham flushed. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I hope I haven’t upset you?”

“On the contrary,” he said, “We all make mistakes. My wife’s was in assuming that university professors are well paid.”

“And yours?”

“Mine lay in imagining I could be content with the ordered calm of academic life. I’d only stuck it for Lillian’s sake She set me free in more ways than one.”

“And so you came East?”

“Not at first. The Air Corps was offering a full-time flying course for one year, then four on the reserve. I did that. Trained as a regular pilot. It was after that I came out here. I was in Jordan with an American expedition six years ago, then I did some work for the Egyptian government, but it didn’t last long. I came to Dahrein with a German geologist who needed someone who could speak Arabic. When he left, I stayed.”

“Don’t you ever feel like going back home‘’

“To what?” he said. “An assistant-professorship trying to teach ancient history to students who don’t want to know?“

“Has Dahrein anything better to offer?”

He nodded ‘There’s something about the place that gets into your bones This was once Arabia Felix — Happy Arabia It was one of the most prosperous countries in the ancient world because the spice route from India to the Mediterranean passed through here Now it’s just a barren waste, but up there in the hills, and north into the Yemen, is the last great treasure hoard for the archaeologist City after city, some standing in ruins— like Manb, where the Queen of Sheba probably lived — others buried beneath the sand of centuries ‘

“So archaeology is still your first love,” she said “Very much so, but we didn’t come here to talk about me, Mrs Cunningham Isn’t it time we got on to the subject of your husband?”

She took a slim gold case from her purse, selected a cigarette and tapped it thoughtfully against her thumbnail ‘It’s difficult to know where to begin ’ She laughed ruefully ‘I suppose I was always rather spoilt’

Kane nodded ‘It sounds possible What about your husband?“

She frowned ‘I met John Cunningham back home at some function or other. He was an Englishman from the School of Oriental Studies in London, lecturing at Harvard for a year. We got married.’

Kane raised his eyebrows ‘Just like that?“

She nodded ‘He was tall and distinguished and very English I’d never met anything quite like him before ’

“And when did the trouble start?”

She smiled slightly ‘You’re very perceptive, Captain Kane’ For a few moments she stared down into her glass ‘To be perfectly honest, almost straight away I soon discovered that I’d married a man of strong principles, who believed in standing on his own two feet’

“That sounds reasonable enough ‘

She shook her head and sighed ‘Not to my father He wanted him to join the firm, and John wouldn’t hear of it.“

Kane grinned ‘Well, bully for John What happened after that?“

She leaned back in her chair ‘We lived in London John had a research job at the University Of course it didn’t pay very much, but my father had given me a generous allowance ’

To enable you to live in the style to which you were accustomed?“ he said, and there was something suspiciously close to amusement in his voice.

She flushed slightly ‘That was the general idea ’

“And your husband didn’t like it?”

She got to her feet, walked to the parapet and looked out across the harbour ‘No, he didn’t like it one little bit’ Her voice was flat and colourless, and when she turned to face him, he realized she was very near to tears. “He accepted the arrangement because he loved me.”

She came back to the table and sank down into her chair. Kane gently placed his hand on hers. “Would you care for another drink?” She shook her head slightly and he shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

She pushed a tendril of hair back into place with one hand in a quick, graceful gesture and continued, “You see, my father was a self-made man. He had to fight every inch of the way and he told John pretty plainly that he didn’t think much of him.”

“And how did that affect your husband?” She shrugged ‘I insisted on living in the way I’d been used to, and it took my own money to do it. John began to feel inadequate. Gradually he withdrew into himself He spent more and more time at the University on his research. I think, in some crazy kind of way, he hoped he might make a name for himself.“

Kane sighed. “That makes sense. And then he walked out on you, I suppose?”

She nodded. “He didn’t come home from the University one night. He left a letter for me in his office. He told me not to worry Something very important had come up and he had to go away for a few weeks.”

“It still doesn’t explain why you’re looking for him here in Dahrem.”

“I’m coming to that,” she said. “I received a package four days ago from the British Consul in Aden. It contained some documents and a letter from John In it he said that he was leaving on the coastal steamer for Dahrem. From here he intended to go up-country to Shabwa. He’d left the package with the Consul with strict instructions to forward it to me if he hadn’t claimed it himself within two months.”

Kane stared at her in complete surprise. “But Shabwa’s a bad-security area,” he said. “Right on the edge of the Empty Quarter — one of the greatest deserts on the face of the earth. What on earth was he doing up there?”

For a moment she hesitated, and then said slowly, “Have you ever heard of Asthar, Captain Kane?”

He frowned slightly. “An ancient Arabian goddess -the equivalent of Venus. She was worshipped in the time of the Queen of Sheba.”

She nodded. “That’s right. The Queen of Sheba was also high priestess of the cult.” There was a moment of stillness between them before she continued in a calm voice, “My husband had reason to believe that out there in the Empty Quarter are the rums of the great temple Sheba built in honour of the goddess Asthar.”

For a little while there was silence as Kane looked at her in astonishment and then he shook his head. “Oh, no, Mrs Cunningham If that’s what your husband was looking for, it’s no wonder you haven’t heard from him.

There isn’t a damned thing out there except sand, heat and thirst.“

“My husband knew differently. You see, he made an amazing discovery some months ago. Part of his research work entailed the translation of ancient Arabic manuscripts and parchments, many of which had come from St Catherine’s Monastery on Mount Sinai. While working on one of these, he noticed it had been used before and the older script partially erased. By using specialized equipment available at the University, he managed to make a copy of the original writing.”

Kane was beginning to get interested. “Was that also in Arabic?”

She shook her head. “No, it was in Greek An account of a special mission performed by a Greek adventurer called Alexias. He was serving as a centurion in the Tenth Legion of the Roman Army.” She leaned back in the chair. “Have you ever heard of a Roman general called Aelius Callus‘’

He nodded quickly. “He tried to conquer Southern Arabia in 24 BC. Got as far south as Sheba and sacked the city of Manb. On the way back he had a rough time Lost most of his army in the desert.”

She nodded ‘According to Alexias they moved much farther south to Timna and then marched on Shabwa. It was there that Aelius Callus heard of Sheba’s Temple. It was supposed to lie close to the ancient spice route between Shabwa and Manb, which cuts across a corner of the desert. There were fantastic tales told of the wealth of the place. Alexias was commissioned to lead a small body of cavalry into the desert on a lightning raid. They were to rejoin the main army at Manb.“

She paused and Kane said, “Well, go on. Did he find it or didn’t he?”

She smiled. “Oh, he found it all right. The route across the desert was marked by seven stone pillars and the temple was about eighty or ninety miles from Shabwa. It lay in a gorge in a great outcrop of rock which, according to Alexias, reared unexpectedly out of the sand dunes When they arrived, the temple was deserted except for one old priestess who tended the flame on the high altar. The scouting party who were first into the place were so disappointed at not finding the treasure, they tortured the old woman to make her talk Alexias arrived too late to prevent it. She died cursing them.”

In the silence which followed, Kane was conscious of a sudden irrational shiver He said, “Did they manage to find the temple treasury?”

She shook her head. “It was too well hidden. They spent two days searching for it without success and then started back to Shabwa The first night out they were caught in the open by a terrible sandstorm. It raged for more than a day. They lost some of the horses and had to double up. When they reached the first well, they found it had been poisoned.“ She raised her shoulders slightly and shrugged. ”Cutting out the messy details, only Alexias came out of the desert alive and walking on his own two feet.“

“He must have been quite a man,” Kane said.

She nodded. “I’ll let you have the translation of his manuscript to read. You can judge for yourself. He doesn’t explain how he rejoined the army, but he obviously managed it successfully. He ended up as commander of the fort at Beer-sheba in Palestine, writing an account of his adventures.”

Kane got to his feet and walked across to the edge of the parapet He looked out across the harbour to the Gulf of Aden beyond, shrouded in its perpetual heat haze.

The Catahna swung in across the town and splashed into the waters of the harbour. Beyond it a freighter moved slowly across the horizon towards the Indian Ocean, and three dhows, in formation, swooped in towards the harbour like great birds.

He saw none of these things. Before him stretched the Empty Quarter — and somewhere in its fastness was Sheba’s Temple When he lit a cigarette, his hands were trembling and his body was seized by a strange excitement. It was a feeling he had experienced only twice before in his life. In both instances he had been a member of an expedition on the brink of an important discovery.

But this — this was different. It was something momentous — the find of a lifetime. Something to rival Knossos or the discovery of Tutankhamen’s tomb in the Valley of Kings.

When he turned to face her he was surprised at the steadiness of his voice.

“Have you any idea of the importance of all this if what you tell me is true?”

She frowned ‘I suppose you mean the treasure?“

“To hell with the treasure!” He came back to the table and dropped into his seat. “All we know about the Queen of Sheba is contained in the Bible. There hasn’t been a single inscription found referring to her by name, not even in Manb, which is supposed by most experts to have been her capital. Such a discovery would create a world sensation, and not only in academic circles.”

“I see,” she said slowly. “That explains why my husband kept his discovery to himself.”

Kane snorted. “The damned fool. Only a properly equipped expedition can handle this sort of thing successfully.”

“But don’t you see?” she said ‘He was trying to prove something to me This had to be his own discovery, alone and unaided. If fame came to him, then he had achieved it by his own efforts, owing help to no man.“

Kane laughed harshly. “If he tried to penetrate the Empty Quarter on his own, then he was a fool. If he hasn’t died of thirst, he’s probably lying face-down in the sand somewhere with his throat cut.“

Deep pain appeared in her eyes and she nervously clasped and unclasped her hands. “You said Shabwa was a bad-security area, Captain Kane. What exactly did you mean by that?”

He shrugged. “The borders of the Aden Protectorate and Oman are in dispute with Saudi Arabia. There’s been constant tribal friction for years. Military security in the area is handled by the British, and believe me, they’ve had their hands full. Because they can’t be everywhere at once, they’ve labelled certain places bad-security areas. In other words they can’t be responsible for what happens to anyone stupid enough to go there.”

When she looked across at him her face was troubled. “And Shabwa is one of these areas?”

Kane nodded. “Very much so. People do visit the area, of course. At the moment there’s an American geologist called Jordan up there looking for oil. He’s managed to survive by tossing Maria Theresa silver dollars around like confetti and surrounding himself with a picked band of cut-throats, who make sure he stays alive because it’s to their own advantage.”

“Have you ever been there?”

He nodded. “Often, but then I’m pretty well known amongst the tribes in that area. They’re mostly Musabein, and friendly enough if they take to you. The trouble is that the fringes of the Empty Quarter are inhabited by outlaws. Men cast out by their tribes for various reasons — mostly unpleasant. If they get hold of you, they’ll skin you alive and peg you out in the sun. Nice people.“

There was complete horror on her face. “And you think something like that must have happened to my husband?”

He shrugged. “There’s a fair-to-even chance.” She shuddered violently and buried her face in her hands. Kane got to his feet and stood beside her, a hand on her shoulder. “Believe me, Mrs Cunningham, I’m only trying to be honest with you.

Anything could have happened to him.”

She pushed herself to her feet and stared up into his face, one hand clutching his arm. “But he could be alive? It is possible, isn’t it?”

For a moment he was going to tell her just how slim that chance was and then he smiled and patted her reassuringly. “Sure, it’s possible.”

She started to cry. Kane slipped an arm around her shoulder and led her gently into the bar. “I think it would be a good idea if you went to your room and rested for a while. I’ll make a few enquiries. I might be able to find something out. If your husband was in Dahrein two months ago, someone must have seen him.”

She nodded slightly as they went out into the hall and mounted the stairs to the first floor. When they reached the door of her room, she took a key from her purse and fumbled at the lock. Kane took it gently from her, opened the door and followed her inside.

There were several suitcases standing in one corner of the bare room and she went across and opened the top one. After a moment’s search she came back, a bulky envelope in one hand. “This is the translation of the manuscript,” she said ‘I think you’ll find it rather interesting.“

He slipped it into his pocket and smiled. 'I'll see you this evening around seven for a drink. I may have some news for you.“

She smiled. 'I'll be waiting. I think I’ll try and get some sleep in the meantime.“

For a moment he matched her smile with his own and then he gently closed the door

SIX

HE MOVED ALONG the corridor and as he reached the head of the stairs a door clicked open behind him. A voice said, “So you and Mrs Cunningham got together sooner than you had intended?”

Skiros was standing in the doorway of his private room, a cheroot clamped firmly between his teeth, a faint smile on his face.

Kane nodded slowly. “I thought I’d better find out what she was after.”

The Greek removed his cheroot and groaned. “Mother of Christ, but it’s hot. How about joining me in a drink‘’

For a moment Kane was about to refuse and then he changed his mind. Very little happened in Dahrein that Skiros didn’t know about He nodded and moved forward.

“Come to think of it I could use one, if you make it long and cool.”

Skiros turned back into the room, wiping his face with his handkerchief. He sagged down into a large wicker chair by the window and gestured towards a table on which stood several bottles and a pitcher of ice-water. “You mix the drinks, my friend,” he said. “I haven’t enough energy to lift the bottle.”

Kane closed the door and went over to the table. He quickly mixed two large gin-slings and handed one to the Greek. Skiros swallowed half of it and grunted.

“Christ, that was good. At the beginning of each year I tell myself it will be my last in this accursed hole. I swear on the grave of my mother that I will go home to Greece, but…‘ He sighed deeply and shrugged his shoulders.

“Why don’t you?” Kane said.

Skiros grinned, exposing a row of decaying teeth. “Because I am greedy. Because I can make so much money so very easily here.” He sipped some more of his drink and went on. “But I might ask you the same thing. What can be the attraction of a place like Bahrein for a man like you?” He grinned and his eyes sparkled.

“Could it be the admirable Mademoiselle Ferret?”

Kane shrugged calmly. “Women mean nothing to me, Skiros. I’m in Bahrein for the same reason you are. I can make money here — very easily and tax-free. There aren’t many places left where one can do that these days.”

Skiros chuckled ‘And avoid Europe, the war.“

“You think it will come?” Kane asked.

“Of course. Everything Hitler wanted he’s got. Why should Poland be different?”

“Not my affair,” Kane said “Nor mine.” Skiros drained his glass. “And what of the beautiful Mrs Cunningham?

It isn’t every day we get so charming a visitor in Bahrein.”

Kane helped himself to a cigarette from an ivory box on the table. “Didn’t she tell you why she’s here?”

Skiros shook his head. “She came straight to the hotel from the boat. After she’d booked in she asked for you at once. She didn’t give a reason. I assumed at first that you must be old friends To be frank, I thought that perhaps your past was catching up on you.”

Kane walked across to the window He stood looking out over the harbour and spoke without turning round. “She’s looking for her husband. Apparently he ran out on her. The last she heard, he was making for here ‘

Skiros grunted in surprise. “But why would he come here?”

Kane turned to face him and shrugged. “He’s a lecturer in archaeology at one of the English universities. Apparently he wanted to visit the ruins at Shabwa ‘

Skiros frowned ‘But only that crazy American, Jordan, manages to survive up there.“

Kane nodded ‘That’s true, but what about Professor Muller? He’s been hunting for rock inscriptions in that area for months now. He’s managed to survive somehow.“

Skiros snorted. “Bah, the German swine.” He spat on the floor and then rubbed it into the carpet with the toe of one shoe. “He is protected by the Devil, but one day he will go too far. One day they will find him with a bullet in the head.”

Kane shrugged. “Is he in town at the moment?” Skiros nodded. “Yes, he came in last night by road. He drove past the hotel about eleven o’clock just as I was having someone kicked out.”

Kane went to the table and helped himself to another ‘drink. “You don’t know anything about this guy Cunningham, then?”

Skiros shrugged his great shoulders. “I’m afraid not. When was he supposed to arrive here?” When Kane told him he frowned for a moment and then shook his head. “No, I can’t remember him.”

Kane swallowed his drink and walked to the door. “I think I’ll go and see Muller. He might have run across him.“

He opened the door and Skiros said, “But why should you go to all this trouble, my friend? I confess I am puzzled.”

Kane turned and grinned. He held up one hand and rubbed his thumb across his fingers in the universal gesture that is readily understood in every corner of the world. “For money,” he said. “What else?”

When he emerged from the hotel into the street it was still quiet and deserted, but the sun enveloped him in an invisible cloak that caused the sweat to spring from every pore, soaking through his shirt and pants. He walked slowly along the shady side of the street towards Muller’s house, frowning slightly as he considered his conversation with Skiros.

If Cunningham had landed in Bahrein, it was strange Skiros didn’t know of it. It was a small town and not much escaped him. But perhaps Cunningham had never reached Bahrein? Perhaps he’d changed his mind? After all, there was only the letter to his wife to go on. On the other hand that theory didn’t hold water.

He’d left Aden on the mail boat — the British Consul had confirmed that. He must have landed in Bahrein. Perhaps he’d already made arrangements to go up-country and hadn’t bothered booking in at the hotel. From what his wife had said, he couldn’t have had a great deal of money.

Muller’s house was in a narrow alley on the north side of the harbour. The entrance was set in a high wall and Kane pulled on an ancient bell chain several times. As he waited for a response he thought about the German. Muller had arrived in Bahrein. the first time about a year previously. A stiff, perfectly mannered Prussian, he was interested in graffiti - the ancient rock inscriptions which were to be found throughout the mountains. He constantly made long expeditions by truck, penetrating deep into some of the wildest country on the border. He seldom took more than two or three Arabs with him and carried no weapons. He was considered by the Musabem to be mad, and this probably accounted for his continued existence. No true believer would dare eternal hell, by laying hands on one of the afflicted of Allah.

The door opened and an Arab servant in clean white robes stood to one side, bowing deeply as Kane entered He moved into a pleasant courtyard in the centre of which a fountain sparkled in the sun Above his head, a balcony jutted out from one of the first-floor windows and Muller appeared and looked down at him.

A pleased smile appeared on his face and he waved cheerfully. “Ah, Kane, my good friend The very man. Come up — come up at once1‘

Kane followed the servant inside the house He led the way upstairs to a narrow corridor, opened a door and stood to one side, motioning Kane through.

Muller was standing beside a large table in his shirt sleeves When he bowed he almost clicked his heels He smiled. “I have something that will interest you I’ve taken a latex squeeze of an inscription I found in a gorge near Shabwa Give me your opinion on it‘

Kane examined the long strip of rubber The professor was using a new method of copying his inscriptions, a latex solution brushed on to the rock, hardened quickly in the sun and peeled away in a long strip carrying with it a perfect copy.

Kane examined the inscription with interest. After a moment he looked up.

“Quatabaman, isn’t it?”

The German nodded. “Yes, I found it on a rock face not far from an ancient camel trail. I haven’t had time to translate it properly, but it seems to refer to a war with the Kingdom of Sheba sometime during the seventh century BC.”

Kane sat on the edge of the table. “You know that’s the third time you’ve been in the Shabwa area, to my knowledge, during the past four months. Don’t you think you’re asking for trouble?”

Muller snorted. “I have no interest in who runs the country so long as I am left alone. The tribesmen know it and don’t bother me.”

Kane shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Tell me, have you run across any Europeans in the Shabwa area during the past couple of months?”

Muller looked at him in surprise. “Only Jordan, that crazy fellow-countryman of yours. Why do you ask?”

“There’s a woman in town looking for her husband,” Kane told him. “An archaeologist called Cunningham. He’s supposed to have gone up-country to Shabwa about two months ago. No one’s heard of him since.”

The German threw back his head and laughed harshly.

“Nor are they likely to, if he went alone. But what did he want at Shabwa?”

Kane shrugged. “I understand he was looking for graffiti, like you.”

“I can do without the competition, thank you.” Muller got to his feet and walked across to the window, a frown on his face. “No, I’m afraid I haven’t come across this man.” He shook his head. “It’s rather strange. I’m sure I would have heard if there was another European in the mountains.”

Kane nodded. “Yes, that’s what I can’t understand. Even Skiros hasn’t heard of him, and that’s saying something.”

Muller shrugged. “I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

“That’s all right,” Kane said. “I’m beginning to think the guy never arrived here in the first place.”

The German nodded. “It certainly looks like it.”

Kane went back downstairs, and the servant appeared at once from the cool darkness of a rear corridor and escorted him to the door. When it had closed behind him, he stood for a moment in the hot street, thinking about his next move. There was really only one thing left to do for the moment. He could check with Captain Gonzalez. He would certainly remember if a European named Cunningham had landed from the mail boat during the past two months.

He walked back through the town the way he had come, passed the hotel and continued along the waterfront towards the north jetty. The Spaniard’s house was next to it and looked down over the beach. Kane knocked at the door and it was opened almost immediately by a heavily veiled woman.

She showed him into a cool, inner courtyard, where he found Gonzalez stretched comfortably on a divan, a can of beer in one hand, the contents of which he was pouring into a tall glass.

He looked up and said cheerfully, “See, you have caught me in the act. Already I am becoming a slave to your American habits. Will you join me?”

Kane shook his head. “Not this time if you don’t mind.”

He sat on the end of the divan, pushing his cap to the back of his head, and Gonzalez said, “It is not often you honour my humble house with a visit, Captain Kane. Presumably you are in need of my assistance.”

Kane grinned. “As a matter of fact I am.”

An expression of complacency appeared on the Spaniard’s face and he leaned back against the cushions with a sigh. “Ah, sooner or later everyone comes to me. I trust you will not accuse me of pride if I tell you that few things happen in Bahrein. that I do not get to know about sooner or later.”

Kane nodded. “I know and that’s why I’m here. There’s a woman in town — a Mrs Cunningham.”

Gonzalez nodded. “This is so. She got off the mail boat from Aden today.”

“She’s looking for her husband. He wrote to her two months ago telling her he was coming to Bahrein. He intended to go up-country to Shabwa. She hasn’t heard from him since.”

The Spaniard frowned. “What was this man’s name -Cunningham, you say?” He shook his head slowly. “I’m afraid she must have made a mistake. No one by that name has landed in Bahrein.”

“Are you absolutely sure about that?” Kane demanded.

Gonzalez shrugged. “How could I be mistaken? Do I not meet every boat?”

For a moment Kane was going to argue, but he decided it wasn’t worth it That the Spaniard didn’t check half the boats he should was common knowledge in Bahrein.

Getting him to admit that fact was something else entirely He pulled his cap down over his eyes and sighed ‘Thanks anyway It looks as if Mrs Cunningham made a mistake.“

Gonzalez nodded wisely. “It is a thing women commonly do ‘

Kane stood outside the house, as the door closed behind him, and looked out across the harbour to the launch. He could see Piroo squatting against the stern rail and knew that the Hindu would be watching him.

He felt tired - really tired. He slipped a hand into his hip pocket and pulled out the envelope Ruth Cunningham had given to him He looked at it thoughtfully and came to a sudden decision There was only one other person in Bahrein. who might have some information about the elusive John Cunningham. That was Mane Ferret. He had to see her anyway, but his visit could wait until the evening when it was cooler.

He walked along to the end of the jetty and Piroo tumbled over the stern into the dinghy and sculled it towards him. Kane dropped down into the little boat and the Hindu started to pull back towards the launch. “Any visitors while I’ve been away?”

Piroo shook his head. “All is quiet, Sahib. It is too hot for any but a fool to be abroad.”

Kane grinned and the little Hindu’s face clouded with dismay. “I am sorry, Sahib,” he said. “I have a foolish tongue.”

Kane shook his head and pulled himself up over the rail of the launch. “No, I think you’ve hit the nail on the head this time, Piroo. I’m dead tired. I’m going below for a sleep. Wake me around eight, will you?”

Piroo nodded and Kane went below into the coolness of his cabin. He mixed a drink, stripped the clothes from his body and went and lay on the bunk, the envelope Ruth Cunningham had given him in his hand.

He took out the typed translation of the manuscript and started to read. It was an absorbing story, and he read steadily for an hour until he had finished it.

For a little while he lay staring at the roof of the cabin and thinking about Alexias. A well-defined personality had emerged from the pages to stand before him. It was that of a brave and aggressive, physically tough man, highly intelligent and a natural leader.

There had been a touch of the dreamer in him also. Kane reread the portion of the manuscript in which Alexias described his feelings on first setting out into the desert in search of the temple. The man’s character emerged strongly in the light of his own words. A born adventurer, always restless, always gazing beyond the next hill, always searching for something and never finding it.

Had he been looking for Sheba’s Temple or had he really been searching for something else His own true self, perhaps’ The self that most men went through life without ever meeting He turned to the last page of the manuscript and read again the final sentence.

“ So, I, Alexias, Senior Centurion of the Tenth Legion, Commander at Beer-Sheba, end this account Lest other men should be tempted to follow the seven pillars to Sheba’s Temple, a word of warning For my poor comrades those seven pillars led only to death.”

Kane stared up at the roof, watching the dust dancing in the sunshine that streamed through the porthole above his head, and thought about the Greek’s words. There was an Ethiopian proverb that said something about the road to hell being marked by seven pillars, and the Ethiopians had conquered Southern Arabia for a while. For a brief moment, he wondered whether there could possibly be a connection, but dismissed the notion as improbable. The Ethiopian conquest had come much later. He was still thinking about it as he drifted into sleep.

He came awake suddenly and lay staring into the darkness. Some special sense, deep in his subconscious, had sounded an alarm and he lay on the bunk, fingers curled tightly, wary as any animal that knows the hunter is near.

He became aware of the smell first — stale and faintly rancid Olive oil or perhaps a grease of some sort. And then he heard the breathing and there was a faint curse as someone stumbled against the table. He waited, hardly daring to breathe, and stared up through half-closed eyelids at the bright beam of moonlight which streamed in through the porthole And then the breathing was very close and he saw the upraised knife gleam in the moonlight. He twisted and lifted his knee sideways. It connected with his assailant’s stomach and there was a subdued grunt. His right hand fastened about the man’s wrist and he twisted sharply. There was a cry and the knife fell to the floor.

Kane scrambled from the bunk, hands reaching for his assassin’s body, but the man’s torso was slippery with oil and Kane’s hands failed to secure a grip. The man twisted like an eel and dashed for the entrance. As he came out on deck, Piroo jumped to bar his way There was a grunt of pain from the little Hindu as their bodies collided, and the killer ducked under his arm and dived over the rail.

Kane stood listening intently, but could hear no sound He turned slowly. “Are you all right‘’

The little Hindu was almost weeping. “Sahib, I am shamed. This man boarded the launch and almost killed you while I slept.”

Kane patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t be damned silly He was probably a professional They’re the only ones who oil their bodies before going on a job.

Don’t worry about it Get the dinghy ready and we’ll pay a call on our friend Selim ‘

He went below and dressed quickly, and when he came back on deck, he was carrying the Colt automatic in his jacket pocket It was time someone cut Selim down to size, he decided, as they crossed the harbour and rowed between the fishing boats towards the Farah.

The dinghy bumped against the side of the great dhow and he told Piroo to wait, mounted a rope ladder quickly, and climbed over the rail The deck was deserted.

Underneath the stern-deck, a door opened into the captain’s cabin and he approached cautiously. For a moment he hesitated outside, listening, and then he kicked open the door and went in, the Colt ready in his right hand.

Two Arabs were sitting cross-legged on cushions beside a low table which contained a coffee-pot and several tiny cups. They glanced up in alarm and he held the gun steady on them.

“Where is Selim?” he demanded in Arabic. One of them shrugged. “He left this afternoon. I think he went up-country to visit friends.”

For a moment Kane gazed at them suspiciously. As he lowered the Colt and started to move away, he became aware of a familiar odour. It was the stale, rancid smell of olive oil.

He turned slowly and faced the men. “Take off your robes!” They looked at each other in alarm and the one who had spoken, started to protest Kane moved forward quickly, a savage look on his face ‘Do as I say.“

The one who had done the talking shrugged and started to remove his outer garments, but the other suddenly made a break for the door. Kane stretched out a foot and tripped him, and as the man scrambled to his feet, hit him across the face with the barrel of the Colt The heavy foresight slashed open the man’s cheek and he slid to the deck, moaning.

Kane slipped the Colt into his pocket and walked to the door. He turned and said calmly to the other man, “Tell Selim he’ll get out of Bahrein. if he knows what’s good for him.”

He closed the door behind him, crossed the deck and dropped down into the dinghy. “Is everything settled, Sahib?” Piroo said.

Kane nodded. “I think you might say that. You can take me to the jetty now. I’m going into town.”

He stood on the jetty and listened to the sound of the dinghy disappearing into the darkness as the Hindu rowed away and then he turned and walked along the waterfront to the hotel and his appointment with Ruth Cunningham.

SEVEN

THE HOTEL WAS ABLAZE with lights, and the foyer was crowded with people. Kane pushed his way through to the entrance of the casino. Skiros was sitting at a table by the window. His eyes, moving rapidly from table to table, gleamed with satisfaction as the dealers raked the chips across the green baize covers. When he saw Kane, a smile appeared on his face and he waved Kane nodded briefly and turned away.

The bar was doing a brisk trade and Romero, Noval and Conde, the Catahna crew, were sitting there in flying jackets. Romero waved and Kane joined them. “Run any good cargos lately?” Romero asked ‘The pot calling the kettle black,“ Kane said ’Guptas told me he saw you and some Portuguese freighter offloading thirty miles out.”

Romero smiled. “We all need to make a living, amigo.” ‘Take care,“ Kane said.

”If he saw you, so could someone else.“

He walked away. Noval said. “He’s right.” Romero shrugged. “No problem. A few more days and it will all be over Let’s have another drink.”

==========

The corridor was quiet, and the noise from below sounded curiously muted and unreal as if it came from another world. A light showed through the transom window above her door and he knocked softly and waited. It was opened almost immediately and she looked out.

She was wearing a brocaded house-coat in heavy silk, tied with a crimson sash at the waist. Her hair hung loosely to her shoulders, and her face was pale and drawn as if she had slept badly She smiled and stood to one side and he went in.

She closed the door and leaned against it, her eyes gazing into his searchingly.

After a few moments she sighed. “You haven’t got any news for me, have you?”

For a fraction of a second he hesitated and then he shrugged, “I’m afraid not.”

She moved across to a wicker chair by the window and there was an edge of desperation in her face. “Surely you’ve managed to find out something? This is a small town. Somebody must have known him.”

Kane shrugged. “That’s the peculiar thing about the whole business. Nobody seems to have heard of your husband. I finally had a talk with the Customs Chief here.

He swears your husband hasn’t disembarked in Bahrein. during the past two months.“

“But that’s impossible,” she said. “We know he has.”

Kane shook his head. “We know he intended to come here. We know he got on the boat at Aden He may have gone on to another port — Mukalla, for instance.”

“Do you think that’s possible?”

He shrugged ‘Anything’s possible. On the other hand I’m still not convinced your husband didn’t land in Bahrein. Captain Gonzalez is inclined to skimp his duties. If he meets half the boats that come in here he’s doing well, but he won’t admit it.“

She looked up at him eagerly, “Then you think my husband may have landed here after all?”

Kane nodded ‘If he landed and went straight up-country the same day, it would explain why no one has heard of him.“

An expression of relief appeared in her eyes and she relaxed against the cushions. “I’m sure that’s what must have happened.” She smiled wanly. “What’s the next move?‘

He went across to the window and looked down into the crowded street. “There’s one more person left to see,” he said. “Mane Ferret.”

Ruth Cunningham looked up at him in surprise. “A woman? But how can she help?”

Kane smiled. “No ordinary woman, I can assure you.

Marie Ferret is half-French, half-Arab. She’s the head of a trading organization which stretches from Zanzibar to Singapore. A very remarkable woman. She has regular trucks going up to the Shabwa area. If your husband wanted to get there in a hurry, that’s the way he would go-‘

There was a strange smile on her face when she looked up at him. “Is she a friend of yours?”

Kane shrugged. “I know her,” he said. “She’ll give me any information she has.”

He walked to the door. “If it’s not too late when I get back, I’ll drop in again.”

She stood up quickly and moved across to the table. “I’ve written a letter to the Consul in Aden telling him I’ve found you all right.” She laughed rather self-consciously. “He asked me to do so. He didn’t seem too happy about my coming here on my own.”

He slipped the letter into his pocket and grinned. “Maybe he had a point. I’ll see you later.”

He went downstairs, crossed the foyer and entered the casino. Skiros was still sitting by the window, cheroot between his teeth and glass at his elbow.

Kane slipped into the opposite chair. “Looks like you’re having a good night.”

Skiros smiled. “I do not complain. Luckily the world is full of fools who do not understand that the house always wins. What of Mrs Cunningham’s husband? Have you managed to trace him yet?”

Kane shook his head. “Gonzalez says he hasn’t landed here, but you know how much one can rely on his word. I’m going to see Marie Ferret now. She might know something.”

As he got to his feet, he took Ruth Cunningham’s letter from his pocket and pushed it across the table. “Put that in the mail bag for me. It’s important.”

Skiros nodded and snapped his fingers at a waiter. “You’re just in time. I’m sending a boy down to the jetty now. The mail boat sails on the ten-o’clock tide.” He gave the letter to the waiter with a brief command. “Have you time for a drink?”

Kane shook his head. “Another time, Skiros. I’ll probably be back later on to see Mrs Cunningham again.”

Skiros smiled and the flesh creased around his eyes. “I trust you will remember that this is business. She’s a very attractive woman.”

Kane didn’t to bother reply. He turned and forced his way through the crowd, crossed the foyer and went out into the cool night.

==========

As he walked along the centre of the narrow street, he thought about the Greek’s last remark. It would be foolish to deny that Ruth Cunningham was an attractive woman and yet, since that brief feeling of excitement and unease when they had first met on the jetty, he had been conscious of no physical feelings about her.

She was the first woman of his own kind he had met for years and yet she left him completely unmoved. But then, women were something he was extremely careful about After all, Lillian had seemed a very pleasant girl during those first few months before they got married. Remembering what had come after, the thought that she was no longer a part of his life filled him with a conscious pleasure and he paused on a street corner to light a cigarette.

It was the best part of the day. The Hour of the Dove, they called it. The lights of the ships in the harbour were mirrored in the water, and from a nearby cafe came the sounds of music and laughter as someone celebrated a wedding.

Arabs in colourful robes crowded sidewalk tables, sipping coffee from delicate cups, talking endlessly amongst themselves With the advent of night, the street had become a bazaar with stalls that sold everything from hand-made brassware to cooked food There was an air of excitement, of vitality in the air, and the night, like smooth velvet, brushed his face as he pressed through the crowd.

Gradually, the streets emptied as he moved away from the centre and climbed steadily through narrow, cobbled alleys towards the promontory which curved out towards the sea.

Mane Ferret’s house was perched on the extreme end of the finger of rock, looking out over the harbour. It was a two-storeyed building with a flat roof, standing in an acre of garden surrounded by a high wall.

Kane paused outside a solid, iron-bound door and pulled the bell chain. After a while there was a movement on the other side and the door swung open noiselessly.

The man who stood revealed presented an extraordinary figure. A full-blooded Somali, his ebony face was topped by a flowing mane of black hair. He stood six foot six and was broad in proportion: a giant of a man in white robes.

His mouth twisted in a grin and he moved to one side, motioning Kane to enter.

Kane smiled and said in Arabic, “Is your mistress at home, Jamal?”

The Somali turned from the door and nodded. He had been branded in the centre of the forehead as was customary with slaves in certain parts of the Yemen. He had tried to escape from his master, and on being caught, had had his tongue cut out in the market place as a warning to others.

His second attempt at escape had been more successful. Dying from thirst in the desert, he had been found by Mane Perret, who had nursed him back to health. He had been her shadow ever since He led the way along a flagged path between the fig trees to a covered terrace, motioned Kane to a chair and disappeared inside the house.

Kane inhaled the freshness of the garden It was a riot of colour and the night air was heavy with the scent of flowers Several palms lifted their heads above the wall and gently nodded in the cool breeze, leaves etched against the night sky, and a fountain splashed into a fish pool amongst the trees There was a light step behind him and he turned quickly and rose to his feet as Marie Ferret walked out onto the terrace She was a small, graceful girl of twenty-five and the soft contours of her body were accentuated by the jodhpurs and khaki bush-shirt she was wearing Her hair was black, an inheritance from her Arab mother, as were the wide, almond-shaped eyes and rather full mouth The rest of her was pure French, and she smiled gaily and flung herself down into a chair ‘How are you, Gavin? What a wonderful night I’ve just been for a ride ’

Kane grinned and offered her a cigarette When he had given her a light, she leaned back in her chair ‘Did everything go all right in Mukalla’‘

He took a letter from his inside pocket and handed it across ‘Sorry, I was forgetting I saw your agent there yesterday He gave me that for you ’

As she read it, he watched her covertly, marveling at the change of expression on her face, cold, businesslike and purposeful Since the death of her father when she was only twenty, she had ruled Ferret and Company too with a rod of iron From the Red Sea to the Pacific her name was a legend Scrupulously honest, but shrewder than any bazaar trader She frowned slightly and called, “Ahmed — here a moment‘’

A heavily built, grey-haired Arab came out onto the terrace He wore European clothes and held a pen in one hand as though disturbed from some important work.

He was the general manager of the firm and an old and trusted friend of her father’s He smiled and nodded to Kane, and Mane handed him the letter ‘Read that, will you’ Gavin has brought it from Mukalla Laval says he can take all the sesame oil he can get If we move fast we can buy up all available stocks‘

Ahmed nodded and was about to go back inside when Kane said, “Just a moment, Ahmed Perhaps you can help me‘

Ahmed turned with a smile and said in perfect English, “What is it, Gavin‘’

“There’s a Mrs Cunningham in town at the moment She’s looking for her husband When she last heard of him he was supposed to be coming to Bahrein., but no one seems to know anything about him ‘

Ahmed frowned for a moment and then nodded ‘Cunningham — John Cunningham Yes, I remember him He wanted to go up-country to Shabwa.’

“When was this?” Kane demanded The Arab shrugged. “About two months ago.” He turned to Mane and explained ‘It was when you were in Bombay. This Englishman landed from the boat and visited me at the office. He wanted to go to Shabwa. I warned him of the dangers but he wouldn’t listen. We had a convoy of four trucks taking equipment to Jordan. I let him go with them ’

“And when did he return?” Mane said Ahmed shrugged. “I’m afraid I have no knowledge on that point. As far as I remember he paid to be taken to Bir el Madam - the nearest Arab village to Shabwa. What happened to him after that I do not know ‘

He turned to Kane ‘I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful, Gavin.“

Kane shook his head ‘You’ve been a lot of help. At least I know this guy got as far as Bir el Madam Before that I couldn’t even prove he’d landed in Bahrein’

Ahmed smiled. “Well, if you’ll excuse me. I’ve got a lot of work on my hands‘

After he had gone back into the house, Marie said, “What on earth could this man Cunningham be doing in the Shabwa area?”

Kane shrugged. “He was an archaeologist Probably looking for rock carvings.”

“On his own?” she said incredulously. “Surely not. Only a fool would attempt to travel in that area alone.”

“Or a man who was looking for something really important,” Kane said.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them, but it was too late. She leaned across, a slight frown on her face and said, “You’re holding something back, aren’t you? Hadn’t you better tell me what it’s all about?”

He sighed and got to his feet. “I suppose I had. For one thing, you might be able to help. For another, now that you’ve scented a mystery, you won’t rest content until you’ve wormed it out of me.”

She stood up with a soft laugh ‘Dear Gavin, you know me so well by now. Let’s walk in the garden and you can unburden yourself.“

They went down the steps and walked through the trees, her hand resting lightly on his arm, and he inhaled her sweetness and was aware of feelings he had not experienced for a long time.

He began to talk, starting with the arrival of Ruth Cunningham and ending with an account of Alexias and his journey into the desert.

When he finished, they were sitting on a seat by the fountain and there was silence for a while Somewhere a bird called through the night and Mane sighed.

“It’s certainly a fantastic story.”

“Don’t you believe it?‘ Kane said.

She shrugged. “The important thing is that Cunningham did. What do you intend to do now?”

Kane shrugged. 'I'll go up to Shabwa. Question the headman at Bir el Madam and find out what happened to Cunningham.“

Mane stood up and they started to walk back towards the house. “Personally, I don’t think you or anyone else will ever see John Cunningham again.”

Kane nodded. “You’re probably right, but his wife won’t rest content until she knows for sure.”

Marie leaned against the balustrade of the terrace. “I agree with you. However, I think I can help to get this thing cleared up quickly. I’m flying to Bir el Madam in the morning to see Jordan about some equipment he needs. He’s boring a test hole about fifteen miles from there He’s had his men lay out a rough airstrip for me. I’m only taking Jamal. There’s room for you and Mrs Cunningham if you want to come along.”

Kane felt suddenly elated. That would be excellent.“ ‘Jordan will be waiting to take me to his camp by truck. I expect to be there all morning. You can borrow the plane. Three hours should give you ample time in which to make a quick survey of the area.”

“It would certainly save Mrs Cunningham a rough trip by truck,” Kane said. “I was worried about that. I don’t think she’s up to it.” ‘Is she pretty?“ Mane said. He shrugged. ”Skiros certainly thinks she is.“ ’But you are more interested in her money?”

“The fee she’s offering me to find her husband is certainly attractive, but I’m intrigued by the story about that temple.”

Mane laughed lightly. “The eternal seeker. Will you ever be content with what is on this side of the hill, Gavin?”

“Probably not,” he said. “I suppose that’s the main reason archaeology interested me so much when I was a kid. That’s why I stay on here, when each year I swear I’ll leave. There’s so much to do — as long as one has the money, of course, which means working for Skiros occasionally But beggars can’t be choosers.” He grinned. “If it comes to that, why do you stay? You could make your headquarters in a more congenial spot. Bombay, for instance.”

She shrugged. “This is an ancient land and my mother was of an ancient people.

It’s in my blood, I suppose.”

He dropped his hands on to her shoulders and smiled. “You’re a wonderful girl.”

He was suddenly conscious of the warmth of her body through the thin material of her shirt. For several moments they remained like that, staring into each other’s eyes and then the smile slowly faded from her face. Kane pulled her towards him and she made no attempt to resist.

His mouth fastened on hers and she melted into him, alive and warm. After a while he pushed her away from him, holding her at arm’s length ‘Damn you!“ he said softly She smiled faintly, sensing the turmoil in his mind. “My poor Gavin, have I disturbed the ordered pattern of your existence? But women are the devil, you should know that by now.”

“I’m only too well aware of that fact,” he assured her.

“Would you like a drink?”

He struggled with temptation and won. “I don’t think it would be advisable.”

She took his arm and they went down the steps and through the garden to the gate. She opened it and smiled up at him ‘Seven o’clock at the airfield and don’t be late. I want to get an early start.“

Standing there in the moonlight she looked utterly and completely desirable He sighed and said, “Look, I’m sorry for what happened ‘

She reached up quite suddenly and kissed him on the mouth ‘But I’m not,“ she said, and pushed him through the door.

For a little while he stood there in the darkness, his hand raised to the bell chain, and then he turned away and walked down through the darkness towards the town ==========

When he reached the hotel, he went up to Ruth Cunningham’s room and knocked on the door There was no reply. After trying again, he opened the door and went inside, but the room was empty.

He went back downstairs and into the bar. Skiros was sitting by the window, a drink in front of him, gazing pensively out into the night. Kane crossed the room and stood over him.

The Greek looked up and smiled. “Did you have any luck?”

Kane nodded. “I’ve managed to trace him as far as Bir el Madam. He went up with one of Marie Ferret’s convoys.”

Skiros raised his eyebrows in surprise. “So, he actually did land in Bahrein I must say I’m surprised. What do you intend to do next?”

“We’re flying up with Marie in the morning,” Kane said. “I’ve been up to Mrs Cunningham’s room to tell her, but she isn’t there.”

Skiros nodded into the darkness. “She passed this way only a few minutes ago. I think you’ll find her on the beach.”

Kane thanked him and went on to the terrace. It was cool and the slight breeze carried the faintest trace of salt spray with it. He went down the steps to the sand and walked towards the white line of surf, his eyes searching the moonlit beach.

He paused, slightly at a loss, and her voice came clearly from his left. “Over here.”

She was leaning against a fishing boat. As he approached she said, “Have you any news for me?”

He lit a cigarette, the match cupped between his hands against the wind, and nodded. “Yes, I think everything’s going to be all right now. I’ve traced your husband as far as a small Arab village about ten miles from Shabwa. We’re flying up there with Marie Ferret in the morning. I should be able to learn something more definite from the headman.”

She gave a sigh of relief, and leaned against him, a hand on his arm. “My God, that’s marvelous.”

She sank down into the soft sand and Kane sat beside her and gave her a cigarette. The match flared in his hands, illuminating the strong line of her jaw, and tears glistened in her eyes.

He took her hand and said gently, “Look, everything’s going to be fine.”

She took a deep breath as if trying to get control of herself and nodded. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to be able to repay you for what you’ve already accomplished.”

“You’ll have no difficulty, I assure you.” He grinned wryly and got to his feet.

“And now I think you’d better get some sleep, Mrs Cunningham. We’ve got an early start.”

She didn’t argue and he saw her to the terrace of the hotel. He made arrangements to pick her up at six-thirty and then walked along the water’s edge to the jetty.

Piroo was squatting on a stone, head nodding. He came awake quickly and smiled a welcome, teeth gleaming in the darkness.

As they rowed across to the launch, Kane told him about his trip to Bir el Madani on the following day. “You’ll be in complete charge,” he said as he clambered over the rail and stood on the deck of the launch. “Keep a sharp look-out for trouble. Particularly from Selim.”

He left Piroo on deck securing the dinghy and went down to his cabin. It was dark and quiet and the moonlight crept in through the porthole and touched him with ghostly fingers.

He lay down on the bunk and stared up at the cabin roof and thought about Marie.

For a moment the darkness was touched by her presence and she seemed to smile at him as he drifted into sleep.

EIGHT

THE FISHING BOATS were slipping out through the harbour entrance towards the Gulf as Kane turned off the jetty and moved along the waterfront. He lit a cigarette, the first of the day, and coughed as the smoke caught at the back of his throat. He felt tired and there was a slight ache behind his right eye. For a moment he paused, watching the fishing boats dip into the Gulf current, white sails shining in the early morning sun, and then he continued towards the hotel.

He was wearing khaki pants and shirt and a battered felt bush hat. On impulse, he had slipped the Colt into his hip pocket before leaving the launch. He had many friends amongst the tribesmen of the Shabwa area, but one could never be too sure.

Ruth Cunningham was standing on the steps of the hotel when he arrived. She was wearing a white blouse, open at the neck, and cream whipcord slacks. Her hair was bound with the same blue scarf she had worn on that first occasion, and when she smiled she looked extremely attractive.

“Will I do?” she demanded, spreading her arms slightly Kane nodded. “Decorative, but serviceable.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ll have to step on it. I don’t want to keep Mane waiting.”

They didn’t speak much as they walked through a maze of narrow alleys and emerged on the edge of town. She had dark smudges under her eyes as if she had not slept well, and there was a strained, anxious look to her that he didn’t like.

The airstrip was a quarter of a mile outside Bahrein in the opening of a narrow pass which cut deeply into the mountains. It was not an official stopping place for any of the major airlines and had been constructed as an emergency strip by the Spanish Air Force.

There was one hangar, a crumbling, decrepit building in concrete with a roof of corrugated iron. They could see the plane squatting on the runway from a long way off, a de Havilland Rapide painted scarlet and silver. Its twin engines were already ticking over as they approached Jamal was sitting in one of the rear seats and Mane jumped down to the ground and came to meet them. Kane made the introduction and the two women shook hands.

“It’s very kind of you to help in this way,” Ruth Cunningham said.

Marie shrugged. “It’s nothing, Mrs Cunningham. Nothing at all. I’m going up to Bir el Madani on business, anyway.” She turned to Kane, a slight smile on her face and her eyes sparkled. “I hope you slept well, Gavin. Sorry to rush you, but I promised Jordan I’d be there by seven-thirty.”

Ruth Cunningham climbed into the seat next to Jamal, who stared stolidly ahead and ignored her. Marie slipped into the pilot’s seat and then turned enquiringly to Kane. “Would you like to fly her?”

He nodded and she stepped into the passenger area, making room for him. He taxied slowly along the ground and turned into the wind. A moment later and the end of the airstrip was rushing to meet them. He pulled the column back slowly and the Rapide lifted into the pass, rock walls flashing by on either side.

The air was bumpy as they flew out of the pass, for a forty-knot wind was blowing across the mountains. They climbed through heat haze that already blurred the horizon, and levelled off at six thousand feet to cross the coastal range.

Beyond the mountains the sky was a brilliant sapphire and, within half an hour, the real desert appeared in the distance, its colours varying between burnished gold and deep red.

Suddenly, they were passing over a tall oil derrick surrounded by a group of tents and several vehicles, and then Ruth Cunningham cried excitedly, “Look, there’s a truck down there!”

Kane glanced out of the window and saw a truck moving at high speed in the direction in which they were flying. A little later, a dark splotch appeared in the distance. Within a few minutes it had increased into a clump of green palm trees and a scattered group of flat-roofed houses.

The airstrip was a narrow slot between two dunes, with a windsock on a tall pole at one end. Kane circled once and then turned into the wind for a perfect landing between two rows of empty oil drums. As he taxied to the far end of the airstrip, the truck appeared from among the houses and moved towards them in a cloud of dust.

Kane switched off the engines, opened the door and jumped to the ground. He turned and handed the two women down in turn as the truck braked to a halt a few feet away and a man slid from behind the wheel and came to meet them.

He was young, with a bronzed, reckless face, and his fair hair was closely cropped. He was dressed in sun-bleached khaki and a revolver was slung low on his right hip in a black leather holster.

His teeth flashed in a ready smile and he cried, “The Devil himself. What brings you up here?”

Kane grinned and punched him on the shoulder. “I was hoping you might be able to help us, Jordan.” He half-turned and indicated Ruth Cunningham. “Mrs Cunningham here, is looking for her husband. We know he arrived in Bir el Madam two months ago. He intended to visit Shabwa for a few days She hasn’t heard from him since.”

Jordan took her hand, his face serious. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs Cunningham ‘ He frowned slightly for a moment or two and then shook his head. ”No, I can’t say I’ve heard of your husband. The headman of the village might be able to help.“

She turned to Kane and he nodded ‘I know the headman here — Omar bin Naser. If he knows anything he’ll tell us.“

Jordan led her towards the Ford pick-up truck and handed her in. “That’s settled then. I’ll drop you and Mrs Cunningham in the village, Kane. We’ll see you sometime this afternoon. Marie and I have a hell of a lot to discuss.”

Marie squeezed into the front seat beside Ruth Cunningham, and Kane and Jamal sat in the back under the canvas awning As they moved away, Kane glanced casually over his shoulder and saw an Arab in faded russet robes and red head-cloth, appear from behind a dune and urge his camel across the airstrip. He slid to the ground and stood by the plane.

Kane tapped Jordan on the shoulder. “Pull up a minute, will you?”

Jordan halted the truck and they all turned and looked back. The Arab was examining the plane closely and then he looked up and gazed towards them.

Kane scrambled out of the truck. 'I'll see what he wants. It may be just idle curiosity, but you never can tell with Bedouins.“

As he approached the plane, the Arab advanced to meet him, hand resting lightly on the silver hilt of his curved jambiya. Kane halted a few feet away from him and said in Arabic, “What are you doing here? Are you looking for someone?”

The Arab’s face was lined and drawn. The pupils of his eyes were like pinpricks and his lips were flecked with foam. “I have a letter for one named Kane,” he said in a dead voice.

Kane’s hand slid round to the butt of the Colt as he spoke. “I am he. Where is the letter?”

The Arab pulled the jambiya from its sheath and the blade flashed in the hot sunlight. Kane took a quick step back and tried to draw the Colt. The foresight snagged on the lining of his hip pocket and he cursed and ducked under the swinging blade, reaching for the Arab’s throat.

For a moment they swayed, locked together, Kane trying to twist the weapon from the man’s grasp, and then the Arab lifted his knee viciously.

Kane hung on grimly and they fell to the ground, rolling over and over. He could hardly breathe and yet everything assumed a sharper definition and he was acutely aware of the stink of the man’s unwashed body, of the madness in the staring eyes.

In the distance, a woman screamed and he was conscious of something digging painfully into his right buttock. It was the Colt and he wrenched it free from his pocket, rammed the barrel into the Arab’s stomach and pulled the trigger twice as the jambiya was raised to strike.

The force of the bullets, fired at such short range, lifted the man backwards.

Kane tried to get up, but there was a roaring in his ears. Someone cried his name. He grabbed for the plane’s wing, hauling himself erect, and another Arab came into his range of vision, running towards him, jambiya raised above his head.

Kane tried to lift the Colt, but his arm seemed to have lost its strength and then Jordan arrived on the scene. The geologist dropped to one knee beside him, rested the barrel of his heavy revolver across his left forearm and fired so fast that four shots sounded like one continuous roll of thunder.

The Arab kept coming right into the line of fire, the bullets thudding solidly into his body and then, when he was almost upon them, he seemed to lurch sideways and fell on to his face.

For several moments there was complete silence and then Kane heard a cry behind him. He turned, still holding onto the wing for support and saw Marie running towards him.

Her face was white and drawn and she clutched his arm. “Gavin, are you all right?”

He patted her on the hand reassuringly. “Thanks to Jordan.”

The geologist was bending over the man he had killed and he turned, a puzzled frown on his face. “How the hell did he keep on coming? I didn’t miss once.”

Kane turned the body over with his right foot. The face was contorted in agony, the lips foam-flecked and curled back, exposing stained teeth. “Haven’t you ever come across anyone who looks like this before?”

Jordan shook his head, but Marie moved forward and looked down. “This man has been drugged with quat. He must be a hired assassin.”

Kane nodded. “That’s the way I see it. When I asked the first man what he wanted, he told me he had a letter for a man called Kane.”

“But why the hell should anyone want to kill you?” Jordan said. “And what is this stuff quat anyway?”

Kane lit a cigarette. “It’s a narcotic stimulant found in the leaves of a shrub from these parts. When the leaves are chewed, the user feels alert and confident. Used regularly, it gradually has an effect on the physical appearance.“

Jordan frowned. “What’s this bit about hired assassins?”

Kane shrugged. “I’d have thought you’d have known about that by now. If you want to kill a man in this country, you don’t do it yourself. You hire a professional.”

Jamal had been busy searching the body of the first man Kane had killed. Now he turned and came towards them, a leather bag in one hand, which he handed to his mistress.

Marie looked inside and then held it forward silently so that the others could see its contents. It was stuffed with silver coins.

Jordan whistled and Marie said gravely, “There must be the equivalent of two or three thousand Maria Theresa dollars here, Gavin. Someone must want you dead very badly.”

Kane nodded soberly. “Yes, and I think I know who it is. I had a run-in with Selim, yesterday. One of his men had a try last night when I was sleeping.”

Marie frowned. “But how would he know that you would be at Bir el Madani this morning?”

Kane considered the fact and then nodded. “You’ve got a point there. Anyway, to hell with it. It didn’t come off and somebody’s paid a lot of money out for nothing.“ He groaned and wiped a hand across his mouth. ”I could use a drink.“

“I’ve got a flask in the truck,”Jordan told him. “Come to think of it, I could do with a swallow myself.” He grinned and shook his head. “And I was worried in case being a geologist turned out to be boring.”

As they walked back towards the truck, an excited crowd of people swarmed past them and moved towards the dead bodies.

“Where the hell did they spring from?” Jordan said. “Anyone would think they knew something was going to happen.”

“They very probably did,” Kane told him.

Ruth Cunningham looked sick and her face was pale. “Are you all right?” she said to Kane.

He nodded. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

She seemed to find difficulty in speaking and clambered back into the front seat, where she sat, nervously clasping and unclasping her hands.

Jordan had been examining the bag of coins Jamal had found on the body of the first assassin and he looked at Kane enquiringly. “What happens to this little lot?”

“You hang on to it for now,” Kane told him. “I’m sure we’ll find a use for it later.”

Jordan grinned. “Pretty good pay under the circumstances.” He produced a brandy flask from a compartment under the dashboard, took a long swallow and handed it to Kane. “Compliments of the house.”

Kane raised the flask and toasted him silently. He choked as the brandy burned its way down into his stomach, and he climbed into the rear of the truck. “I haven’t thanked you yet. That was nice shooting back there.”

Jordan slipped behind the wheel and drove towards the village. “I was raised on a ranch in Wyoming.”

He turned the truck into the wide main street and braked to a halt outside the largest house, scattering a herd of goats.

Kane got down and Ruth Cunningham followed him. “After we’ve had our talk with Omar, we’ll take a flight over the Shabwa area,” he said to Marie.

She nodded. “Take care, Gavin, and don’t go too far out into the desert. It’s bad flying country.” She glanced at her watch. “Let’s see — with any luck, we should be back here just after noon.”

Kane smiled. “We’ll be back by then easily.”

There was a grinding of gears and the truck shot away in a cloud of dust. Kane turned to speak to Ruth Cunningham and found the headman of the village standing outside his door, waiting to welcome them.

“You honour my poor house, Captain Kane,” he said in Arabic.

Kane smiled. “Always I come when I need something, my friend, but let us go inside. The sun is hot and the events of the past half-hour have given me a great desire to sit down.”

Omar led the way into his windowless, mud-brick home. The house was divided into two rooms. In one were kept the goats and chickens belonging to the family, and the other was the general living room. At night Omar and his family simply lay down in their robes on rush mats and slept.

Despite the obvious poverty of the place, Omar bin Naser had the native courtesy and instinctive dignity of the Arab. He motioned Kane and Ruth Cunningham to two cushions and clapped his hands. Within a few moments, a woman entered the room, wearing a long black outer robe which also closely veiled her face. She carried a brass pot in her left hand and three cups in the other.

After the customary feigned refusals that courtesy demanded, Kane accepted a cup and nodded slightly to Ruth Cunningham who followed suit. The woman poured a few drops into their cup and waited for approval. It was Yemeni mocha — the finest coffee in the world. Kane smiled and held out his cup, which the woman promptly filled.

Omar waved her away and Kane offered him a cigarette, which the headman accepted eagerly. When it was drawing to his satisfaction, he sat back with a sigh and said courteously, “In what way may I help you?”

Kane nodded to Ruth Cunningham. “I seek this lady’s husband,” he said ‘He came here about two months ago. Can you tell us anything about him?“

Omar’s eyes sparked with interest, and he inclined his head to Ruth Cunningham with a pleasant smile and said to Kane, “Presumably the woman does not understand Arabic?” When Kane nodded, he went on, “A man did come here some two months ago. He arrived with a convoy of trucks one day. They went on to the camp of the American Jordan, but this man stayed in Bir el Madam.”

“Where did he go from here?” Kane said. Omar shrugged. “Who knows? He was mad quite mad. He wanted to journey from Shabwa to Marib by camel He needed guides.”

“And did you help him?” Kane said. Omar nodded. The camels I could supply, but the guides were another matter No one ventures into the Empty Quarter, as you know, unless he is a hunted man with a price on his head.“ Then he went alone?”

The headman shook his head. There was a mad Bedouin passing through here at the time — a Rashid. You know what they are like. Anything for adventure. Proud, reckless men. He volunteered to go with the Englishman.“

“And have you heard of them since?” Kane said.

Omar smiled faintly. “Captain Kane, their bones are bleaching in the sun at this moment. It is the only end for those who are foolish enough to venture into the Empty Quarter.”

For a little while Kane sat there, frowning, and then he got to his feet and gave Ruth Cunningham a hand. “Have you found anything out?” she demanded anxiously.

He nodded. “Plenty Your husband was here. He managed to get camels and a Bedouin of the Rashid tribe to accompany him. He told Omar he intended to cross the Empty Quarter from Shabwa to Marib.‘

Her eyes were troubled, and Kane patted her reassuringly on the arm and turned to Omar. “Many thanks, my friend, but we must go now I shall fly this lady to Shabwa and then a little way out into the desert. Perhaps we shall discover something.”

Omar nodded and accompanied them to the door. As they emerged into the street, several villagers passed, dragging a crude cart on which lay the two assassins.

Their robes were dabbled with blood and clouds of flies hovered over them. Ruth Cunningham shuddered violently and Omar said, “I rejoice at your narrow escape, Captain Kane ‘

Kane turned quickly, a look that was almost amusement in his eyes. “You knew they were waiting for me?”

Omar nodded. “But of course,” he said gently.

“And knowing, you made no attempt to prevent it?” Omar looked pained. “I could not possibly interfere with another man’s blood feud.”

Kane started to laugh. An expression of complete bewilderment appeared on Omar’s face, and Kane took Ruth Cunningham’s arm and led her away, still laughing.

“What was all that about?” she said. “I find all this Arabic frustrating.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he told her. “A private joke.”

As they walked towards the airstrip she said, That was wonderful coffee we had.

Who was the woman -his wife?“

Kane shook his head. “A household slave.” ‘Surely you’re joking,“ she said.

He smiled gently. “Didn’t you notice the mark of the hot iron on Jamal’s forehead? He was a slave in the Yemen. They cut out his tongue the first time he tried to escape. There are thousands of slaves in most parts of Arabia still.”

She shuddered and they continued the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the plane, the only signs of the fight were several patches of blood in the sand of the runway. Kane pushed her into the cabin and clambered up behind.

He wasted no time, and a few moments later they were climbing steeply into the blue sky.

They reached Shabwa within ten or fifteen minutes and Ruth Cunningham looked down with an expression of disappointment on her face. “I can’t say I find it particularly thrilling.”

Kane nodded. “Not very imposing, I agree, but under the sands down there are the sixty temples the Roman historian plainly wrote about. A treasure trove for some future expedition.”

He checked the compass and turned the nose of the Rapide out into the desert.

“I’ve set course for Marib. According to Alexias, the temple should be somewhere out here on a direct line from Shabwa. About ninety miles, he said. Let’s hope we come across something.”

He took the plane down to a height of five or six hundred feet above the sand dunes, hoping for tracks or some other sign that human beings had passed this way, but there was nothing. The desert stretched as far as the eye could see, sterile, savage and unbelievably lonely.

After some fifteen minutes, Ruth Cunningham gave him a sudden nudge. In front of them an immense sand dune that must have been seven or eight hundred feet in height, lifted into the sky, and Kane pulled back the column slightly. The engines spluttered and missed a couple of times.

He pulled the column back hard and the Rapide lifted over the top of the sand dune with only a few feet to spare, and then the engines coughed and died.

The utter silence which followed was broken only by the sough of the wind in the struts and then, as the plane dipped sickeningly, Ruth Cunningham screamed.

Kane fought for control. About fifty or sixty feet above the sand, he managed to level out and then another great sand dune was rushing towards them. “Hang on!” he said tightly, and pulled on the column with all his strength.

The Rapide swerved violently. For a moment it seemed to right itself, and then the left wingtips dipped to the sand. The aircraft spun in a circle and there was a tearing crunch of metal. Kane cried a warning and braced himself to withstand the impact as they ploughed to a halt through the soft sand.

NINE

KANE GAVE A LONG, shuddering sigh and wiped sweat from his eyes with the back of one hand. He turned and looked into the white, strained face of Ruth Cunningham.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded briefly. “I held on tight as we went in.”

He opened the door and jumped to the ground. The nose of the Rapide was half-buried in soft sand and the left wing was crumpled and useless.

“I can’t understand why we didn’t catch fire,” he said with a frown and came back to the door and looked at the instrument panel. “That’s funny, the fuel tanks are empty.”

She moved across the cabin and clambered out through the door. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t really know. When the engines failed it could have been lack of fuel, but I don’t see why. I wonder what state the radio’s in.”

As he climbed back into the cabin to examine it, Ruth Cunningham said, “Is there anyone near enough to pick up the signal?”

He nodded. “Jordan has a short-wave receiver at his camp.” He examined the set briefly and turned with a grimace. “I’m afraid we’ve had it. They weren’t built to stand up to this kind of treatment.”

Ruth Cunningham ran a hand over her face wearily. “I’d give anything for a drink of water.”

“We can soon fix that,” he said, reaching behind the back seats for a large jerrycan and plastic cup. “This thing’s full, so water is the least of our problems.”

He gave her a long drink and had one himself. Afterwards, they sat in the shade of the wing, smoking cigarettes and not talking.

After a while, she turned and looked at him and said in a level voice, “Gavin, give it to me straight. What are our chances?”

“A lot better than you think. I reckon we’re about thirty miles from Shabwa.

It’s no good trying to make it during the heat of the day. The best thing we can do is rest up here and make a move at dusk. We’ll be able to travel a lot faster at night because of the coolness.” ‘Do you think they’ll come looking for us?“

He nodded confidently. ”Of course they will. As soon as Marie and Jordan return to Bir el Madani and find we’re missing, they’ll form a search party. Those Ford trucks of his are specially fitted for desert work.“

She looked into his eyes searchingly and then she smiled. “I’m glad I’m with you, Gavin. With anyone else, I think I would have been scared — really scared.”

He smiled and helped her to her feet. “But there isn’t anything to be scared about. A few hours’ discomfort, that’s all. It’s the sort of thing you’ll be able to talk about for years, and the details will grow with the telling.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Her shoulders sagged and she looked tired.

He pushed her towards the cabin door. “Try to sleep for a few hours. You’ll find it cooler in there. I’ll wake you later on this afternoon.”

He closed the door behind her, lay down in the shade of the right wing and pillowed his head on his hands.

He wished he felt as confident as he had tried to sound. On his own and with plenty of water, he would have stood a fair chance of reaching Shabwa in a forced march during the night, but with a woman… !

One thing was certain. Marie and Jordan would come looking for them, but the trick lay in knowing where to look and the desert was a big place.

He listened to the stillness and felt the heat press down on him with a force that was almost physical, and after a while drifted into a troubled sleep.

==========

Somewhere, there was a scream of terror, and something hard poked him under the chin. He opened his eyes and looked along the barrel of a rifle The man on the other end was a Yemeni in coloured turban, his half-naked body smeared with indigo dye. At some time in the past, his ears had been cropped — the sign of a thief- and his right cheek branded.

Two others were dragging Ruth Cunningham from the cabin, and as Kane scrambled to his feet, her shirt ripped and she fell to the ground One of the men laughed and dragged her upright by the hair.

The man’s face had been eaten away by yaws, his eyes burned out of a mass of putrefying flesh and there were two holes where his nose had once been. Ruth Cunningham stared with horror into that ghastly face and fainted.

Kane took a step towards her and the three Yemenis all swung their rifles ominously. “It would be unwise to move,” the one with the cropped ears said in harsh, guttural Arabic.

Kane moistened dry lips. “Take us to Bir el Madam and there will be a rich reward for you.”

The one with the face out of a nightmare uttered an oath and spat. He took a quick step forward, reversing his rifle, and rammed the butt into Kane’s stomach One of them took the Colt automatic from his hip pocket. Then they left him for a while, his face in the sand, breathing deeply and waiting for the agony to pass.

The three men were outlaws — so much was obvious. But how were they going to act, that was the important thing? They seemed to be having an argument and Kane opened his eyes, his breathing easier, and tried to listen.

Dirty brown feet encased in leather sandals appeared before his face and a hand pulled him into a sitting position. He found himself facing the man with the cropped ears.

He squatted in front of Kane, rifle cocked in his arms and grinned. “It is time for us to go now.”

“Take us to Bir el Madam,” Kane urged desperately. “You will receive a large reward, I promise you. Five thousand Maria Theresa dollars.”

The Yemeni shook his head. “Over the border I am a dead man walking.” He nodded towards Ruth Cunningham. “We can make as much money selling the woman in the slave market at Sana.”

“Ten thousand,” Kane said. “Name your price. She is a very rich woman in her own country.”

The Arab shook his head. “How can I be sure she would honour the bargain? A white woman commands a high price in the Yemen.”

“And what about me?” Kane said.

The Yemeni shrugged. “My friends wished to cut your throat, but I have persuaded them otherwise. Whether you live or die is your own affair. Shabwa is but a short step for a strong man.”

Kane frowned. “I don’t understand.”

The Yemeni grinned. “You do not remember me? Two years ago when the Bal Harith were camped near Shabwa? There was some question of a stolen horse. If they had caught me, it would have meant my life. You allowed me to hide in your truck until darkness. The ways of Allah are strange.”

Kane remembered the incident at once. He leaned forward, lowering his voice.

“Help us to safety and I’ll see you are richly rewarded. At least you owe me that.”

The Yemeni shook his head and stood up. “A life for a life. Now I owe you nothing. Rest content. My friends wished to relieve you of your manhood, at least. If you are wise, you will stay quiet until we have gone.”

He joined his two companions who had already mounted their camels, one of them slinging Ruth Cunningham’s unconscious body across his wooden saddle. Kane stood by helplessly as they rode away from the plane and disappeared into a fold of the dunes.

He glanced at his watch. It was just after noon, which meant that he had slept for longer than he had supposed. For a moment he stood there, considering and rejecting possible courses of action. But there was really no solution — just the slightest chance that he might be able to do something with the radio. He climbed into the cabin and set to work.

From the beginning it was hopeless and yet he kept on working, long after it became obvious that the set was damaged beyond repair, hoping to nurse into life a spark which would live long enough to carry a message to the outside world.

Sweat dripped from his body and the heat in the cabin enveloped him so that he had to stop on several occasions for rest and water. It was shortly after three when he finally admitted defeat. He sat back wearily and started to light a cigarette. At that moment, he heard the sound of an engine approaching through the stillness.

He jumped down to the ground and stood there listening, a sudden wild hope inside him. It was close, very close. As he shaded his eyes with one hand and looked up, a truck topped a dune a hundred yards away and came towards him.

Marie was driving, with Jamal sitting beside her. As Kane went towards them, she cut the engine, slid from behind the wheel, and ran to meet him. “Are you all right, Gavin?” she demanded anxiously.

He nodded. “I’m fine, but I don’t understand. How did you get here so quickly?”

“It’s a long story,” she said. “Is Mrs Cunningham in the plane?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

He quickly described what had happened, and when he had finished, Mane looked grave. “If we don’t catch them before darkness, there’s no knowing what they might do to her.”

He nodded. “If we get moving straight away, we should find them without much difficulty.”

He sat beside Mane in the front seat, Jamal climbed into the back, and within a few moments they were moving, following the clearly defined tracks of the three camels The truck was fitted with twelve forward gears and this, coupled with four-wheel drive, made it ideal for crossing the shifting sand dunes.

Kane leaned back in his seat ‘You’d better fill me in on what happened at Bir el Madam.“

“I finished my business with Jordan by eleven,” Marie told him. “He sent Jamal and me back to the village in this truck with one of his drivers When we reached the airstrip, Omar was waiting for us. He said there was a stranger in the village — a coast Arab who had been heard to boast that you would not be returning.”

“And Omar actually volunteered this information‘1’ Kane said She smiled faintly ‘You’ll never understand the complexity of the Arab mind, Gavin To kill your enemy face-to-face is one thing, but a trick such as tampering with the plane,“ - she shrugged - ’to Omar, such a thing would lack honour.”

"I'll go along with that,“ Kane said, ”but how did you find out for certain what had happened?“

“Omar pointed out the man in question, and Jamal took him behind a hut and questioned him. He was stubborn, but with his right arm broken and the threat of similar treatment to his left, he saw reason.”

Kane glanced sharply at her in amazement. “My God, you don’t believe in half-measures, do you?”

“My mother was a Rashid,” she said calmly. “We are a hard people, especially when the things we value are threatened.”

To that, there could be no reply, and Kane said, “He’d tampered with the fuel tank, I suppose?”

“He took advantage of the confusion when the villagers were swarming around the bodies of the assassins No one noticed him in the crowd.”

“Did you manage to find out who’d paid him?”

She nodded. “Just as you thought — Selim.”

Kane frowned. “He must really hate me to go to all this trouble. How did you manage to find the plane so easily?”

“I knew you were flying on a direct line from Shabwa to Marib. I took a bearing, followed the compass and hoped for the best. I sent Jordan’s driver back to the camp with a note explaining what had happened.”

Kane grinned wryly. “You’re fast becoming indispensable.”

For once she could find nothing to say and concentrated on her driving, following the twisting tracks with ease until they finally came to a broad plain of flat sand mixed with gravel, which stretched away into the distance. She moved into top gear and pressed her foot flat against the boards.

The truck raced across the flat plain in a cloud of dust, and soon the three of them were coated with sand from head to foot Kane helped himself to water and his eyes ceaselessly searched the plain ahead, looking for the black dots in the distance which would indicate their quarry.

There were two rifles bracketed to the roof of the truck and he took them down and handed one to Jamal. The great Somali’s hands checked the weapon expertly and then he cradled it in his arms, one finger inside the trigger guard.

Kane gripped his tightly and stared through the windscreen out of dust-rimmed eyes His mind became a blank as he waited so that he was taken completely by surprise when Mane screamed in his ear, and the black dots in the distance seemed to rush towards them.

He raised his rifle slightly and waited. As they came up fast behind the three camels, the man at the rear turned and looked towards them and his mouth opened in a cry of dismay. He urged his camel forward.

Mane spun the wheel and the truck moved abreast of the Arabs. Kane raised his rifle and fired a warning shot over them, and then the truck had drawn ahead.

As Mane swerved to a halt, the man with the diseased face, who was carrying Ruth Cunningham in front of him, released her so that she tumbled to the ground. He raised his rifle in one hand, and Jamal fired a quick shot, which lifted him from the saddle Mane drove the truck forward and halted beside Ruth Cunningham. She was weeping, her head buried in her hands, and Mane spoke gently to her. “Did they harm you in any way?”

Ruth Cunningham shook her head several times and spoke with difficulty. “The man with the awful face kept pawing me, but the one who seemed to be the leader made him leave me alone.” She collapsed in a flood of tears and Mane led her gently to the truck and eased her into one of the seats.

Kane walked across to the two men, who sat their camels quietly under the threat of Jamal’s carbine. The man with the cropped ears gunned down at him. “The ways of Allah are strange.”

“You’re damned right, they are,” Kane told him. “It’s lucky for you, you didn’t harm her. Now get to hell out of here.”

He stood for a little while, watching them ride away, and then he went to help Jamal who was digging a shallow grave for the dead man.

When they returned to the truck, Ruth Cunningham was still sobbing quietly on Marie’s shoulder. Kane raised his eyebrows enquiringly and Marie shook her head.

He shrugged. “There’s no hurry. We’ll rest up for an hour before starting back.”

He sat down in the sand, his back against the side of the truck and pulled the brim of his bush hat over his eyes, and gradually, his head nodded forward and he dozed.

In what seemed to be the same moment of time, he came awake to a gentle tug at his shoulder. Marie smiled down at him. “We should be making a move, Gavin. It’s after six.”

He got to his feet and looked into the interior of the truck. Ruth Cunningham was curled up in one of the passenger seats, sleeping. He smiled at Marie and climbed behind the wheel. She and Jamal went round to the other side and Kane gently eased in the clutch and drove away.

There was a car compass fitted to the dashboard and he decided to leave the camel tracks and pursue what seemed to be a much more direct route to Shabwa.

Gradually the sun dipped towards the horizon in a great orange ball and then the night fell with its usual rapidity. The sky was clear, with stars strung away to the horizon like diamond chips, and the moon bathed the desert in an unearthly white light.

Marie had dozed off, her head against Kane’s shoulder, and he leaned back in his seat, hands steady on the wheel, and stared ahead into the night.

When he saw it, the shock was so great that he slammed his foot against the brake, bringing the truck to a halt with such force that everyone was thrown forward in their seats and brought violently awake.

“Gavin, what is it?” Marie cried in alarm.