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 Pliny wrote about. A treasure trove for some future expedition.’