Part 13 (1/2)

Hamid confronted Kate, Rupert, and McGee, hands on his hips, smiling triumphantly. ”Is that good enough?” There was a kind of contempt in his voice.

”h.e.l.l, you're too good for me. I pa.s.s.” Rupert put a hand up placatingly.

Hamid laughed, head thrown back, legs apart, and Rupert kicked him between them, dead center. Hamid went down hard and started to a.s.sume the fetal position. Rupert put a foot on his neck.

”Very careless, fella, very. I could break your neck easily, but I won't, because I imagine help is hard to find out here.”

He turned to Kate. ”Is that it? Can we go now?”

”You b.a.s.t.a.r.d,” she said, but she was laughing.

Carver was doing something inside the Scorpion. When he saw them approach, he got out. ”Ready to go?”

”We'll spend the night in Hazar, then we'll leave at seven for Northolt.” She turned to McGee. ”I'll leave Keenan and Drumcree to you.”

She climbed inside, Rupert followed her, and they took off a few moments later.

When Villiers and his men reached El Hajiz, Bobby Hawk and his troops were already there with three Land Rovers.

”Good to see you.” Villiers held out his hand. ”Decent trip?”

”Better than yours, by all accounts. What happened?”

”I'll fill you in later. Let's set up camp.”

They laagered up the five Land Rovers in a semicircle against a bluff, the scattered palms of the pool of the oasis behind them. Some of the men cut fuel from nearby thorn bushes with their jambyas jambyas and lit a fire. Soon, water was heating in two pots and Villiers spoke to the a.s.sembled men. and lit a fire. Soon, water was heating in two pots and Villiers spoke to the a.s.sembled men.

”For those of you who were not there, Omar was shot dead by a sniper at the pool at Hama.”

There was an excited buzz of anger.

”Settle down. Later, Selim was murdered in Hazar, his throat cut. I know who did these things. It was Abu, the bodyguard of the Countess. He could have killed me, but did not. At Hama, he struck again, hitting a water bag Achmed was carrying. Obviously, he could have killed him, too, but chose not to. I exposed myself, called him to face me. Again, he could have shot me but didn't, because the Countess wants me alive. I will only die if we venture over the line, so we stay in Hazar for now. I just wanted all of you to know all of this.”

He turned to Achmed. ”Put three men at the machine guns, everyone else can eat.”

Later, Villiers and Bobby were presented with a stew, courtesy of Heinz, composed of baked beans and a c.o.c.k-a-leekie soup, with plenty of unleavened bread to go with it.

”Not quite the officers' mess at Windsor,” Villiers said.

”Not bad, though,” Bobby Hawk said. ”It's given me a taste for honest plain food, all this canned stuff we're eating.”

He was only twenty-two, and had already done a tour in Kosovo with the Lifeguards in Challenger tanks and armored cars. The chance for a posting to the Hazar Scouts was something he'd been unable to resist, although it had put back his promotion to Second Lieutenant. Villiers, of course, could have told him the opposite. His time with the Hazar Scouts would count for a great deal for his future military career.

They finished eating, and one of the men took their mess tins and another brought them enamel mugs and a kettle of the bitter black tea that even Bobby was developing a taste for. Dusk was falling, and the men moved to squat by the Land Rovers and left them to the fire.

”Do you think he's out there, sir-Abu?”

”I'm sure of it.”

”Do you think he'll have another go?”

”Yes, but I don't think he plans to kill anybody else. It'll just be another warning-a reminder that Kate Ras.h.i.+d has her hand on my neck.”

”I hope you are right, sir,” Bobby said, feelingly.

They sat and talked for an hour. A Scout came forward and tossed more thorn branches on the fire, refilled the kettle with fresh tea and boiling water, and put it close to them.

Bobby picked up the kettle to pour the tea, when there was a single shot, and a puncture appeared, hot liquid spurting as the kettle flew from Bobby's hand.

”Jesus Christ.” Bobby jumped up and pulled the Browning from his holster. He stood there, gun extended.

”No,” Villiers cried. ”It's Abu all over again. If he could hit the kettle, he could have hit you.”

The Scouts reached for their rifles, one of the machine gunners opened up into the darkness. Villiers jumped up and waved.

”Stop shooting. He won't fire again.”

There was silence. Bobby holstered his Browning and managed a shaky laugh. ”I hope you're right, sir.”

And then there was a second shot, a heart shot that lifted the boy off his feet and hurled him backwards. The Scouts roared with anger and they started to fire indiscriminately into the darkness. Villiers crouched beside Bobby, who heaved convulsively and died.

Villiers experienced such rage as he had never known. He called to his men. ”Stop firing now! now!” They lowered their weapons reluctantly, and he turned, back to the fire, and spread his arms wide. ”Abu, I am here. Where are you? Do you kill boys now? Come try a man!” But the only reply was the sound of a Land Rover starting up and moving away.

Abu drove one-handed and held a scarf against his right cheek. It had been a lucky escape. A stray machine gun bullet, part of the return fire to his kettle shot, had creased his right cheek. He was angry with himself for doing what had not been necessary. His strategy in shooting at Achmed at Hama and the young officer had been sound; he had just wanted to show them that he could have killed them. His second shot at Bobby Hawk could not even be excused as a reflex action. He'd taken his time, and hesitated, but then rage and pain had proved too much for him. He could have shot Villiers, but at least he was sane enough not to have done that. The Countess would understand. At least he hoped so. He pulled in at the side of the dirt road, opened the medical box, and found the plaster dressings, with which he covered his wound. Then he carried on, driving through the night toward Hazar.

The men were putting Bobby Hawk in a body bag. Villiers sat by the fire drinking from a half bottle of whiskey, kept in the medical box for medicinal purposes. He drank deeply from the neck of the bottle and smoked a cigarette.

He'd asked Kate Ras.h.i.+d why Abu hadn't gone for a head shot on him and she'd said he was too important and meant it. He'd allowed that to cloud his judgment and had gotten it wrong, totally and hopelessly wrong, and Bobby Hawk had paid for it with his life.

Achmed came and said, ”Do you wish to look at Cornet Sahb Sahb?”

”Yes, thank you, I will.”

He stood over the body bag, which was unzipped at the top so that Bobby's face showed, the eyes closed in death. The corruption in the heat of the day would be very quick, the thought of it too hard to bear. And then a thought struck him and he turned to Achmed.

”Close the bag, then tie Sahb Sahb to the hood as we did with Omar. We'll leave in ten minutes, and drive down to Hazar through the night.” to the hood as we did with Omar. We'll leave in ten minutes, and drive down to Hazar through the night.”

”As the Colonel Sahb Sahb commands.” commands.”

Villiers sat down again, got out his Codex, and tried Ferguson on the special line at the Ministry of Defence and found him in the office.

”It's me again, Charles. Something bad has happened.”

Hannah Bernstein and Dillon happened to be in the office and Ferguson waved a hand and switched his red phone to audio. ”Tell me, Tony.”

Which Villiers did. ”I got it wrong and the boy is dead.”