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 thejambiya 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 himjambiya 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.’