Part 12 (1/2)
They left an hour and a half later. Rupert said, ”What am I going to find at Fuad?”
”In effect, an army camp. We have young Arabs from all the main Arab states. We teach them basic weaponry skills with rifles and machine guns, plus more sophisticated weapons such as shoulder-fired missiles.”
”What about bomb-making and explosives?”
”Yes, that, too, though it's pretty basic. Mostly how to use explosives effectively with timer pencils. There's a limit to what we can do. It isn't exactly up to Provisional IRA standards. We usually have around fifty in the camp, mostly men, but a few women pa.s.s through. They do eight weeks here and then go back home and pa.s.s their knowledge on.”
”Who are the instructors?”
”Mostly Palestinians.”
”Are they up to it?”
”Good help is hard to find. The chief instructor is first cla.s.s, though, Colum McGee. He was in the IRA for years.”
”So what's the purpose of all this?”
”To have lots of reasonably trained young revolutionaries scattered throughout the Middle East, youngsters who would happily overthrow their governments, who hate capitalism and the wealthy.”
”But, Kate, you're you're a capitalist and you are unbelievably wealthy. And yet you want to destabilize the lot. It doesn't make sense.” a capitalist and you are unbelievably wealthy. And yet you want to destabilize the lot. It doesn't make sense.”
”It does if you want revenge, darling, it does if you want revenge.”
”And how do you achieve that?”
”Later, Rupert. When the time is right.” She glanced down below where sand boiled in a great cloud. So Ben Carver had been right. A desert storm was brewing.
Villiers and his men were well into the hill country, pa.s.sing between those great ocher cliffs, making for the pool at Hama. For some time as the wind increased in force he had been aware of the fine particles of sand being carried with it, and he and his men had covered their noses and mouths with scarves.
As they approached the pool, he said to Achmed, ”We'll stop and replenish the water bags.”
”As the Sahb Sahb commands.” commands.”
Achmed got out with two Scouts, but Villiers stayed in his seat, sheltering behind the winds.h.i.+eld, lighting a cigarette in cupped hands. Achmed and the two Scouts filled the goatskin bags and were turning to bring them back to the Land Rovers, each man carrying two, when there was the crack of a shot, and a bullet hole appeared in the bag Achmed carried in his left hand and water spilled out. The three men dropped the bags and ran for the shelter of the Land Rovers and crouched, weapons ready.
”No return fire,” Villiers said.
The wind moaned, more sand carried with it. Achmed said, ”Look, Sahb, Sahb, there are tire marks in the sand, a Land Rover for sure. Someone has pa.s.sed this way before us. Maybe Abu.” Villiers started to get up and Achmed pulled him back. ”No there are tire marks in the sand, a Land Rover for sure. Someone has pa.s.sed this way before us. Maybe Abu.” Villiers started to get up and Achmed pulled him back. ”No Sahb, Sahb, not you.” not you.”
”I think it is Abu, but if he could hit the goatskin he could have hit you. He can't shoot me because the Countess wants me alive. This means he's just been playing with us. I'll prove it to you.” He stood up and called in Arabic, ”Abu, have you no honor? Are you afraid to face me?” He walked out into the open. ”Here I am, where are you?”
The visibility was greatly reduced now. They heard the sound of an engine starting up and a vehicle drawing away.
”He has gone, Sahb, Sahb,” Achmed told him.
”And we should go, too, and reach shelter. It may be a while before this blows over.”
At the end of the pa.s.s was a crumbling fort left over from the old days. The stables still had a roof on them, the Land Rovers drove inside and they all dismounted.
Villiers said to Achmed, ”Get the spirit stove going. Coffee for you and tea for me. A can of food for each man. They can choose what they want.”
”As the Sahb Sahb orders.” orders.”
Villiers looked out as the sand was whipped up into a fury and wondered how Abu was getting on out there but, even more, wondered what he intended.
The Scorpion made Fuad before the sandstorm reached full intensity. Rupert was aware of the palm trees of the oasis below and his trained vision took in the crude blockhouse. The firing range beyond it, and many Bedu tents of the kind had evolved over the centuries to handle the vagaries of the Empty Quarter, including sandstorms.
There were many men waiting down there, faces covered against the sand. Kate turned to Rupert. ”The breath of Allah, that's what the Bedu call it.”
”Then he must be in an angry mood.”
Carver put down between two clumps of palm trees, and men ran forward with ropes, fastened them around the skids, and tied the other ends to trees.
Ben Carver switched off. ”Jesus,” he said, ”that was a stinker.”
”You did well,” she told him.
Carver got out first and held the door, and she wrapped her scarf around her head and mouth and took the lead. Someone offered her a hand, a large man in jeans and a leather bomber jacket, a scarf wrapped around his face. Rupert followed and they hurried toward the tents, followed by a number of men.
The tent they entered was large and well appointed, with carpets on the floor, cus.h.i.+ons, and a low table. It was all quite luxurious. Drapes against the tent walls flapped a little as the wind buffeted them, and yet in there, the sound was subdued and somehow faraway.
The man in the bomber jacket removed his scarf, revealing a tangled black beard flecked with gray. It was Colum McGee, and he was smiling.
”Good to see you, Countess.” She introduced Rupert, and a moment later Carver arrived.
”How long will it last?” she inquired.
”I've checked the weather report from Hamam airport. It should die down in two or three hours.”
She checked her watch. ”Eleven o'clock. That would leave time for an inspection and we could still make it back to Hazar by nightfall. We might as well have something decent to eat, Colum.”
”Well, I can't offer a full Irish breakfast, Countess, but the women in the kitchen bake fairly decent bread even though it's unleavened. If you want lamb stew or goat, fine. Otherwise, I can offer various things from cans. Corned beef, new potatoes, carrots, peas.”
”I think that should do nicely. Did you bring the refrigerated box in, Ben?”
”One of the men took it to the kitchen for me.”
”Good, we'll have a drink.”
Carver went out along a tented tunnel and entered the kitchen. There was a round stone fireplace in the entryway, three cooking pots hanging from spits, half a dozen women working at various tasks. The blue plastic refrigerated box was on a low table.
In the main tent, Kate Ras.h.i.+d said, ”All Ben Carver knows is what he sees, Colum, the camp and the occasional training. I don't want him to know anything else. Leave the serious business until after the meal.”
”As you say. I'll go and give the women their orders, but an old RAF hand like Ben won't miss much.”
As he went out, Ben appeared with the box. When he opened it, there were three bottles of champagne and several plastic wine gla.s.ses. He uncorked a bottle and started to pour.
”Four gla.s.ses, Ben.”
”All the comforts of home,” Rupert told her.