Jack Higgins – Sheba

It was like nothing he had ever seen before, carved from solid stone. The lips were full and sensual, and the eyes slanted upwards above high cheekbones and were closed as if in sleep. It had a strong affinity with the statues of the Hindu goddess Kali, which he had seen many times in Indian temples.

He frowned slightly, his mind grappling with the academic side of the problem, and his eyes wandered to the high altar, noticing the carved fire-bowl. He remembered the Roman cavalrymen and the old priestess who had remained to tend the flame, and time seemed to have no meaning. It was a circle, turning upon itself endlessly.

Marie moved beside him and said softly, ‘It gives me a strange feeling to know that he must have stood here – Alexias, I mean.’

Kane nodded without speaking and they stayed there for a moment, side by side, thinking the same thoughts, and then there was a sudden commotion in the entrance.

As Kane turned, a man in dust-covered khaki clothes moved towards them. He wore an Arab head-cloth and sand goggles covered his eyes. When he was a few feet away, he paused and regarded them silently for a moment before removing the goggles. It was Professor Muller.

He bowed stiffly. ‘I trust you ladies have not been seriously inconvenienced?’

Kane took a quick step forward, but before he could speak, a familiar voice said, ‘Ah my good friend, Captain Kane. So you managed to get here after all?’ and Skiros stepped out of the gloom.

ELEVEN

IT WAS ALMOST NOON when the two guards came to the temple for Kane. Marie and Ruth Cunningham had been removed earlier that morning, and shortly afterwards, Jamal had also been taken away.

Alone in the temple with his guards, Kane had spent the time going over events again and again in his mind, but it was no use. He couldn’t make sense of any of it. If Muller had stumbled across the temple by chance, then why hadn’t he announced his discovery? It would have made him world-famous. And what about Skiros and Selim? Where did they fit in? The problem offered no solution and he waited with mounting impatience until the two Bedouins came for him.

Emerging from the cool half-light of the temple, he paused at the top of the steps, momentarily dazzled by the strong sun. One of his guards pushed him forward so that he stumbled down several steps, almost losing his balance.

The two men seemed to find the incident amusing and Kane, by a supreme effort of will, choked back his anger and walked docilely between them, his eyes keenly searching the valley as they advanced.

The rock walls were covered with inscriptions and at several points he noticed the dark openings of caves. Quite suddenly, the floor of the gorge dipped slightly, and beneath them in a hollow he saw an encampment of several tents beside a green oasis of palm trees.

It was the numbers of men and camels which surprised Kane as he moved down into the camp. On every side, men sweated in the hot sun, loading the great beasts with heavy boxes as if preparing to move out.

He lost count of the tribes, represented. Half-naked Yemenis in coloured turbans, their bodies tattooed and smeared with indigo dye, Rashid Bedouins, Musabein, Bal Harith – they were all there. As his guards hustled him through the throng, heads turned curiously.

They halted outside the largest tent and motioned him inside. Kane pulled back the flap and entered. Muller was sitting at a small, folding table, drinking coffee and examining a potsherd with a magnifying glass. He looked up and smiled. ‘Ah, Kane, come in! Come in!’

Kane sat down on a camp stool opposite, and Muller lifted the pot and smiled again. ‘Coffee?’ Kane nodded and the German filled a cup and pushed it across.

Kane leaned forward, arms resting on the table. ‘What have you done with the women?’

Muller looked pained. ‘We are not barbarians. They are under guard in a nearby tent. They will find it more comfortable than the temple.’

‘That’s most considerate of you,’ Kane said. ‘And what have you done with Cunningham?’

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