Part 7 (1/2)
Roper tapped his keys. ”Yes, they are. Ben Carver? ExSquadron Leader in the RAF?”
”The old sod,” Dillon said. ”So what's Kate up to?”
”That's what Ferguson asked when I told him. Of course, there are a dozen different reasons why she could be going down there, but Ferguson said he would contact Tony Villiers, ask him to keep an eye on her.” Colonel Tony Villiers was the Commander of the Hazar Scouts.
”That should help. Villiers is good, and he isn't particularly keen on the Ras.h.i.+ds since they skinned his second-in-command, Bronsby.”
”Yes, they do have their little ways. Now go away, Dillon. I've got work to do.”
At that moment, on the border between Hazar and the Empty Quarter, Tony Villiers was encamped with a dozen of his Hazar Scouts and three Land Rovers. A small fire of dried camel dung burned, a pannier of water on top.
His men were all Ras.h.i.+d Bedu and all accepted Kate Ras.h.i.+d as leader of the tribe, but the clan spilled across the border as well. There were good men over there in the Empty Quarter and there were bad men, bandits who crossed into Hazar at their own risk, for the Scouts had sworn a blood oath to Villiers. Honor was of supreme importance to them-each one would kill his own brother, if necessary, rather than violate his oath.
They sat around the fire, AK a.s.sault rifles close at hand, wearing soiled white robes and crossed bandoliers. Some smoked and drank coffee, others ate dates and dried meat.
Tony Villiers wore a head cloth and crumpled khaki uniform, a Browning pistol in his holster. He'd never gotten used to dates and had just eaten the contents of a large can of baked beans cold. One of the men came across with a tin cup.
”Tea, Sahb Sahb?”
”Thanks,” Villiers replied in Arabic.
He sat down and leaned against a rock, drank the bitter black tea, smoked a cigarette, and looked out to the Empty Quarter. It was disputed territory there, and utterly lawless. As someone had once said, you could kill the Pope there and no one would be able to do a thing. That's why he kept to his side of the border whenever possible.
Villiers, approaching fifty now, had served in the Falklands and every little war in between up to the Gulf and Saddam, then had ended up on secondment here in Hazar. It was just like in the old days, a British officer commanding native levies, and it was beginning to pall.
”Time to go, old son,” he said softly, lit another cigarette, and the mobile in his left breast pocket rang.
The Codex Four was not available on the open market. It had been developed for intelligence use in places where strict security was necessary, and Villiers had his courtesy of Ferguson.
”That you, Tony? Ferguson here.”
”Charles, how's every little thing at the Ministry of Defence?”
”Put your scrambler on.”
Villiers pressed a red b.u.t.ton. ”Done.”
Ferguson said, ”Where are you?”
”Wouldn't mean a thing to you, Charles. Marama Rocks, just on the border with the Empty Quarter. I'm on patrol here with a few of my men.”
”You've got a new second-in-command, I hear.”
”Yes, another Cornet, from the Lifeguards this time, named Bobby Hawk. He's off in the other direction with his patrol. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
”I've just heard that Kate Ras.h.i.+d's flying in tomorrow.”
”Well, that's not unusual. She comes here all the time.”
”I know, but there've been some funny things going on here. I just have a gut feeling, that's all. Where does she go?”
”Lands at Hamam, then goes to Shabwa Oasis by helicopter in the Empty Quarter. But you know that, you've been there yourself.”
”Is anything going on there, Tony?”
”I wouldn't know. I'm forbidden by the Sultan's decree these days to go over the border into the Empty Quarter.”
”Don't you find that strange?”
”Not really. All right, I know Kate Ras.h.i.+d has the Sultan by the throat, so I a.s.sume that it's her order, not his. But she's the leader of the Ras.h.i.+d Bedu and that's Ras.h.i.+d territory. End of story.”
”Could there be something going on out there?”
”Preparing for a revolution, you mean? Come on, Charles, what does she need a revolution for? She's got everything she wants.”
”All right, all right, but be a good chap. Scout around, put the word out.”
”If I do, Kate Ras.h.i.+d will know in five minutes, but all right, I'll do what I can. I'm due down at the port tomorrow anyway.”
”Good man, Tony, keep in touch.”
Villiers sat there thinking about it, then called, ”Selim.” His Sergeant came over. ”A big place, the Empty Quarter.”
”Awesome, Sahb. Sahb.”
”A man could hide out there forever.”
”This is true, Sahb. Sahb.”
”In fact, many men?”
Selim looked a little hunted. ”This is possible, Sahb. Sahb.”
”Shabwa is not the only oasis your people use, there are others.”
”All Ras.h.i.+d, Sahb. Sahb.”
”So, if others came, from another tribe for instance, you would know.”
”We would kill them, Sahb. Sahb. Any oasis is ours, the wells are ours.” Any oasis is ours, the wells are ours.”
”But if such people had permission, say, from the Countess?”
Selim was caught and terribly upset. ”Yes, Sahb, Sahb, that would be different.” His face was pale. that would be different.” His face was pale.
”Yes, I thought so.” Villiers patted his shoulder. ”We move out in ten minutes.”
Villiers turned and looked to the Empty Quarter. There was something out there. Ferguson's wild shot had been right. Poor old Selim, so transparent. But what could it be? No way of knowing. If he strayed over the border, he wouldn't last half a day. The Bedu would know-knew where he was now, come to that. He sighed, took out the Codex Four, and dialed Charles Ferguson back, rather sooner than he had intended.
Dillon was at The Dorchester just before seven, dressed in a black Brioni suit, white s.h.i.+rt, and black tie. He called it his undertaker look, which was appropriate, since he carried a Walther in a special pocket under his left arm. He was greeted by Giuliano, the manager.