Kane nodded. ‘The camels are in good condition. We’ll be feeling the shortage of water before they are. We stand a better chance” during the cool of the night.’
‘What about Skiros?’
Kane shrugged. ‘That’s another point. He’ll probably make camp soon.’
He struggled wearily to his feet, and the wind lifted sand into his face and then Jamal was moving towards him quickly, eyes flashing.
The Somali cupped a hand to one ear in an unmistak- able gesture, and Kane listened. Faintly, borne on the wind, came the sound of voices in the distance.
Excitement moved inside him, and the weariness dropped from his shoulders like an old cloak. ‘Did you hear it?’ he asked Cunningham.
The Englishman nodded. ‘Perhaps something went wrong and they’ve made camp sooner than they intended.’
‘Whatever the reason, they’re in for one hell of a surprise,’ Kane said.
They hobbled the camels and went forward cautiously on foot. The wheel tracks turned away to circle the base of a large dune and Kane hesitated for a moment, and then led the way up the steep side, sinking knee-deep in the soft sand.
He covered the last few feet to the summit on his belly and raised his head cautiously. Seventy or eighty feet below, in a hollow, a tent was standing. A truck was parked beside it, hood raised, while an Arab tinkered with the engine.
As Cunningham moved up, the flap of the tent was thrown back and Ruth Cunningham emerged, pushed by Selim. She seemed to have lost all hope and dragged her feet as she went towards a flaring spirit-stove. She picked up a pan and placed it on the stove, and Selim stood over her, laughing.
Cunningham half-rose to his feet and Kane pulled him back behind the lip of the dune. ‘Don’t be a damned fool. At this range, you’d stand as much chance of hitting her as hitting Selim, and if you go down on foot, he’ll have her at the other end of his rifle before you get half-way.’
‘But we must do something,’ Cunningham said desperately. ‘We can’t afford to wait for darkness.’
Kane’s eyes narrowed as he hunted for a solution, and then a quick flare of excitement moved across his face. ‘I think I’ve got it,’ he said, and explained rapidly.
When he had finished, Cunningham sat up and nodded slowly. ‘It’s a good plan. At least it stands an even chance of coming off.’
He started to get to his feet and Kane caught hold of his sleeve. ‘I’ll handle this. You don’t look too good.’
The Englishman shook his head, jaw set firmly. ‘She’s my wife,’ he said simply, ‘so it’s my job.’
Kane didn’t try to argue with him. Cunningham checked the action of his sub-machine gun and slipped it out of sight under his outer robe, holding it with one hand. He smiled once and then pulled back his head-cloth and stood up on the summit of the dune.
For a moment, they did not see him, and he opened his mouth and cried hoarsely, ‘Water! Water, for the love of God!’ He took one deliberate fumbling step forward and fell headlong into the sand, rolling over and over, down into the hollow.
At the first cry, Selim and his companions had turned in alarm, snatching up their rifles. Kane moved cautiously forward and peered down into the hollow as Cunningham rolled to a halt. For a little while he lay there and then he climbed painfully to his feet and lurched forward. ‘Water!’ he moaned, and pitched forward on to his face.
Ruth Cunningham sprang to her feet. For a moment she stood there, unbelief on her face, and then she started forward. Selim grabbed her by the shoulder and hustled her across to the tent. He pushed her inside and turned.
Cunningham got to his knees and stretched out a hand appealingly and Selim laughed. He shouted something unintelligible to his companion, put down his rifle, and walked forward.
Cunningham stood up and produced the sub-machine gun, and as Selim turned to run, a long burst caught him full in the back.
The other man still stood in front of the truck, rifle in hands. He raised it to his hip and fired one shot wildly. Cunningham swung towards him, a line of bullets lifting the sand in a curtain, driving the man back against the vehicle.