‘Tell me about it.’
He gave her a brief outline of events, and when he had finished, she gave a sigh of relief. ‘I’m glad the Cunninghams are all right. What are you going to do about Skiros and Muller?’
‘What can I do? Mahmoud will hold us here after they’ve left, or I miss my guess. He owes them that much if they’ve been supplying him with guns. One thing I can’t understand is why Skiros decided to leave the valley in such a hurry. What happened?’
‘I don’t really know,’ she said. ‘He was on the radio for a long time after the fighting was over. When he came down into the camp, he was very angry. He had a long argument with Selim. Afterwards, he said we’d be leaving at dawn.’
‘He was probably in touch with his superiors in Berlin to tell them about the loss of the plane,’ Kane said. ‘They must have got into a panic. After all, if he was caught and his true nationality disclosed, there’d be hell to pay. They most likely told him to get out – and fast.’
‘I hope we never see him again,’ Marie said.
Kane held out his hands and she clasped them tightly. ‘At least one good thing’s come out of all this,’ he said. ‘I know when I’m licked.’
She came into his arms and they kissed briefly, then the tent flap was thrown back and Mahmoud appeared. He stood to one side and Marie brushed past him.
The old Bedouin smiled. ‘You look tired. I suggest a long sleep. I’ll have you taken to your friend. We’ll talk later.’
Kane went out into the bright sunlight and a man led the way through the encampment. Eyes turned on him curiously and several small children ran at his heels all the way to the tent, which was on the outskirts of the camp. When he ducked in through the entrance, he found Jordan sitting cross-legged on a rug in the centre, eating from a can.
‘You look terrible,’ the geologist said cheerfully.
Kane managed a tired grin and flung himself down on a sleeping pallet in one corner.
Jordan was still speaking, but the words didn’t seem to be making any sense. After a while, they were simply a monotonous drone, and Kane was asleep.
He awakened slowly and lay staring into the gloom. It was night and an oil-lamp hung from the pole above his head, its radiance scattering the shadows from the centre of the tent.
Jordan was sitting near by, cleaning his revolver. As Kane moved, he turned and a smile appeared on his face. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Out of this world,’ Kane said, struggling into a sitting position.
Jordan handed a bowl across. ‘You’d better have something to eat.’
Kane pushed balls of boiled rice and pieces of goatmeat into his mouth and discovered he was hungry. ‘Has anything been happening?’
Jordan shook his head. ‘Quiet as the grave. You’ve been lying there for about eight hours.’
‘Have our friends left yet?’
‘They were on the other side of the camp. I suppose the old boy arranged it that way. I heard them drive off a couple of hours ago. What do you think they’ll do?’
Kane shrugged. ‘Make straight for Dahrein, hoping to get clear before we notify the authorities.’
‘Are you going to try to stop them?’
Kane shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. I’ll be glad to see the back of both of them. They’re finished round here, anyway.’ He got to his feet and stretched. ‘Let’s call on Mahmoud.’
He brushed back the entrance flap, walked out into the cool night and led the way down through the quiet camp to Mahmoud’s tent.
They found the old sheik sitting cross-legged on a sheepskin before the fire, smoking a Turkish cigarette, eyes boring into the heat of the flames.
He greeted them with a smile. ‘So, you have recovered, my friend,’ he said to Kane.
Kane sat down beside him. ‘I understand Skiros and Muller have left?’
The old man nodded. ‘I promised them I would hold you here for a day. I owed them that much at least.’