He could hear the others coming up behind him, the two women talking excitedly, and he cried out, ‘This water is as cold as ice.’
Their voices ceased abruptly and, as Kane started to get up, a reflection in the water in front of him caused him to grab for his rifle.
A bullet chipped the stone edge of the pool, and he raised his arms above his head and climbed slowly to his feet. On the other side of the pool were at least a dozen half-naked Bedouins, and they were holding the very latest Lee Enfield rifles. Standing in front of them, a sardonic smile on his face, was Selim.
‘Please do not try anything foolish,’ he said in his careful, clipped English.
The Bedouins moved quickly round the pool, splitting into two groups and effectively surrounding Kane and his party. Selim followed at a more leisurely pace, one hand toying with the hilt of his jambiya, the other tugging gently at his beard.
He paused a foot or so away and Kane said softly, ‘It’s a small world.’
Selim nodded. ‘You are a hard man to kill.’ He sighed heavily and his right fist shot out, catching Kane full in the mouth.
Kane lay on the ground for a moment, shaking his head and conscious of the threatening muzzles of the rifles that had swung towards him. He wiped blood from his mouth and got to his feet slowly.
Selim smiled. ‘The down payment on an old score. The rest will come later. I never forget a debt.’ He gave a quick command and the Bedouins closed in, urging their prisoners forward with shrill cries.
As he stumbled towards the great flight of steps which led up to the temple, Kane considered the unexpected turn events had taken. From the beginning, he should have realized there was the possibility that John Cunningham had survived the desert crossing – that some human agency had prevented his return. But why Selim? It didn’t make sense.
As he mounted the top step and crossed the terrace, the closer view of the temple drove other considerations from his mind. It had been built into the face of the rock wall itself, and the great pillars that supported the portico and flanked the entrance were at least sixty feet high.
Marie appeared at his shoulder and her voice was filled with awe. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. There’s nothing to touch this in the whole of Arabia.’
Kane nodded. ‘Strong Egyptian influence, I would say. Same style of portico as the temple at Karnak.’
It was cool and very quiet inside and his eyes soon became accustomed to the dim light. The floor was constructed of rose-coloured marble, and pillars of well-cut blocks of drafted masonry, towered into the gloom. At the other end of the imposing nave, a great statue loomed out of the darkness.
The party paused, as Selim called a halt and ordered most of his men outside except for three who were obviously to be their guards. He turned to Kane. ‘You will all stay here. If you attempt to escape, or make a suspicious move of any sort, the guards have orders to kill you at once.’
‘Okay, you’re the boss,’ Kane said. ‘There’s one thing you might tell us before you go. What happened to Mrs Cunningham’s husband? After all, he’s the reason we’re here.’
Selim shrugged. ‘He is alive and well – for the moment.’
Ruth Cunningham moved forward. ‘When can I see him? Oh, please let me see him.’
Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled. Selim looked down into her face as if seeing her for the first time. After a moment or two, he shook his head slowly. ‘That is not possible at the moment. If you behave yourself, you may see him later. You must wait here.’
‘But for what?’ Kane demanded. ‘A firing squad, a slit throat or a new arrival?’
Selim smiled thinly. ‘I am not here to answer questions.’
He turned and walked away quickly, and Kane took the crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket. There was one left and he drew smoke deep into his lungs as he looked up at the statue.