Part 6 (1/2)

'An attempt at a light witticism is it, Cross? Of course I did not sleep well.'

'It's going to be a long day. Nothing is likely to break just yet. I'm taking a few of my lads out for some parachute practice prior to the big show. Some of them have not jumped for over a year. They need polis.h.i.+ng.'

'Have you got a chute for me?' she asked. He blinked. He had thought that she might want to watch them to distract herself from her own worries. He hadn't contemplated that she would want to join in. He wondered what experience she had.

'You have done some para before?' he asked tactfully.

'My husband loved it, and he used to drag me along. We did quite a bit of base jumping together in the Norwegian fjords at Trollstigen.' Hector gaped at her for a moment before he found his voice again.

'That's the end of the road,' he conceded. 'They don't come more extreme than jumping off a mountain into a two-thousand-foot abyss.'

'Oh! Have you done the fjords?' she asked with quick interest.

'I am brave, but not crazy.' He shook his head. 'Mrs Bannock you have my admiration and I would be honoured to have you jump with us this morning.'

Hector had a.s.sembled fifteen of his best men, including Dave Imbiss and Paddy O'Quinn. They made three jumps from the helicopter. The first was from 10,000 feet and the third and last was low level from 400 feet; just enough air left for the parachute to flare before their feet hit the ground. This technique would give an enemy firing from below little chance of hitting them while they were dropping and vulnerable. After the third jump all the men were in obvious awe of Hazel. Even Paddy O'Quinn could barely conceal his admiration.

They ate their ham and cheese sandwiches and drank black coffee from a flask while sitting on the side of a sand dune. Afterwards Hector rolled an old truck tyre from the top of the dune, and as it bounced and bounded down the steep slope they took turns firing their Beretta SC 70/90 automatic a.s.sault rifles at the cardboard target that Hector had fixed inside the tyre. Hazel was the last to shoot. She borrowed Hector's weapon and checked the loading and balance with a quick and competent air. Then she stepped up to the firing mark and took on the target in elegant style, swinging smoothly out ahead of the tyre like a 12-bore shooter lining up on a high-flying pheasant. Dave retrieved the tyre from the bottom of the dune, they all gathered around it and regarded the bullet holes punched through the cardboard target. n.o.body said much.

'Why are we all so surprised?' Hector mused. 'She is a world-cla.s.s athlete. Of course she is as compet.i.tive as h.e.l.l, and has the hand-to-eye coordination of a leopard.' Then he said ingenuously, 'Let me guess, Mrs Bannock. Your husband liked to shoot and he dragged you along with him. That's it, isn't it?' The laughter was spontaneous and infectious, and after a few moments Hazel was forced to join in. It was the first time she had laughed since she had lost Cayla. It was cathartic. She felt some of the debilitating grief being purged from her soul.

Before the laughter ceased Hector clapped his hands and called out, 'Righty-oh, boys and girls! It's just under seven miles back to the terminal. Last one home buys the drinks.'

The sandy soil made heavy going. When they streamed in through the gate in the barbed-wire perimeter fencing of the terminal Hector was a few paces behind Hazel. She was running strongly and smoothly but the back of her s.h.i.+rt was dark with sweat. Hector grinned.

I doubt that Madam will have too much trouble getting to sleep tonight, he thought.

Uthmann heard the explosion and saw the pillar of black smoke rising above the roofs of the buildings ahead of him. He knew at once that it was a car bomb and he burst into a swift run to his brother's house, which was somewhere close to the explosion. He turned the corner and looked down the narrow winding street. Even for a hardened veteran like Uthmann the carnage was horrific. One man was running towards him with a child's blood-soaked body clutched to his chest. His blank staring eyes did not even focus on Uthmann as he ran on past. The front had been blown off three buildings. The rooms inside were opened up like a doll's house. Furniture and personal possessions hung out of the open rooms or cascaded down into the street. In the middle of the roadway stood the blackened and twisted wreckage of the car that had carried the bomb.

'You are no martyr,' Uthmann shouted at the smoking wreckage and vaporized remains of the driver as he ran past it. 'You are a s.h.i.+'ite murderer!' Then he saw that his brother Ali's house was further down the street and that it was intact. Ali's wife met him at the door. She was weeping and cradling two of the children. 'Where is Ali?' he yelled at her.

'He has gone to work at the hotel,' she sobbed.

'Are all the children with you?' She nodded through her tears.

'May the name of Allah be praised!' Uthmann cried and led her back into the house.

Uthmann's own wife and three children had not been as fortunate as his brother's family. Three years before Lailah had been in the market place with the boys when a bomb had blown up within thirty paces of them. Now Uthmann picked the little boy out of the arms of his sister-in-law and rocked him until he stopped blubbering. He remembered the feel of his son's warm little body and tears welled up in his eyes. He turned away so she could not see them.

His brother Ali came back from work an hour later. Because of the bomb the general manager of the hotel had given him permission to leave early. His relief when he saw all his family safe was heartrending for Uthmann to watch. It was only the following day that Uthmann was able to hold a serious discussion with him. To begin with Uthmann broached the subject of the taking of the American yacht and the capture of the young heiress to the Bannock Oil fortune.

'This is the most exciting news that we have had for years,' Ali responded at once. 'All the Muslim world is agog with it since the day the comrades announced it on Al Jazeera. What dedicated planning and duty it took to bring such an operation to its flowering. It is one of our greatest victories since the attacks on New York City. The Americans are reeling. Their prestige has taken another deadly a.s.sault.' Ali was jubilant. In everyday existence he was a floor manager at the Airport Hotel, but in reality his main occupation was as a coordinator for the Sunni Fighters who were pursuing the jihad against the Great Satan. It was clear to both brothers that Ali had been the main target of the s.h.i.+'ite bomb that had caused such devastation in the street outside the house in which they sat.

'I am sure our leaders will demand an enormous ransom for the captured American princess,' Ali said seriously. 'Enough to finance the jihad against America for another ten years or more.'

'So which of our groups were responsible for this achievement?' Uthmann asked. 'I have never heard of these ”Flowers of Islam” until the name was used on Al Jazeera.'

'Brother, you know better than to ask me that. Even though you have proved your loyalty a hundred times over I could never answer that question even if I knew the answer, which I do not.' Ali hesitated, and then went on, 'But I can tell you that soon you may be one of those with a need to know.'

'My connection with Bannock Oil?' Uthmann smiled at him, but Ali waved his hands in denial.

'Enough, I can say no more.'

'Then I will leave tomorrow, and return to Abu Zara-'

'No!' Ali cut him off. 'It is the hand of Allah that brought you here today. Stay with me another month at least. Inshallah! Inshallah! I may have something to tell you then.' I may have something to tell you then.'

Uthmann nodded. 'Mashallah! I shall stay, brother.' I shall stay, brother.'

'And you are welcome at my board, brother.'

In the palace on the hillside above the Oasis of the Miracle another group of men were drinking coffee from tiny silver cups and talking quietly and seriously. They were seated in a circle around a table that was inlaid with ivory and mother of pearl. The only item on the table was the silver coffee kettle. There were no writing materials anywhere in the room. Nothing was written down. All decisions were announced by Sheikh Khan Tippoo Tip in person, and memorized by his listeners.

'So this is my decision.' He was speaking in the deep measured tones in which he conducted all momentous business.

'My grandson Adam will send the first ransom demand.' He looked at Adam who, still sitting on the silk cus.h.i.+on, bowed until his forehead touched the tiles.

'To hear your command is to obey it,' he murmured.

Sheikh Khan mused, 'The amount of our demand will be so large that even in the sick and accursed land of the Great Satan there will be none so rich as can pay it.' When he smiled his eyes disappeared behind the wrinkled lids. 'No amount of money can settle the blood feud I have with this man Cross. Only blood can pay for blood.' They sipped from the silver cups in silence, waiting for the Sheikh to continue speaking.

'This perfidious infidel has killed three of my sons.' He held up one finger twisted with arthritis. 'The first was my son and the father of my grandson, Saladin Gamel.' Adam bowed again, and Sheikh Khan went on, 'He was a true warrior of Allah. Cross shot him dead on a street in Baghdad seven years ago.'

'May Allah welcome him into the Gardens of Paradise,' the other men in the circle murmured.

'The second blood debt is my son, Gafour. He was sent to honour the blood feud of his elder brother Saladin, but Cross killed him also when he attacked the dhow in which Gafour was sailing to Abu Zara to carry out the task I had set for him.'

'May Allah welcome him into the Gardens of Paradise,' the others intoned again.

'The third of my sons to die at the hands of this Christ-wors.h.i.+pping infidel was Anwar. I sent him also on a mission of honour, but Cross murdered him.'

'May Allah welcome him into the Gardens of Paradise,' they chorused for the third time.

'The blood feud has become a heavy toll on my conscience. The lives of three of my fine sons have been taken by this foul idolater, servant of a false G.o.d. It is no longer sufficient for me to take his life. One life cannot repay me for three. I must capture him and hand him over alive to the mothers and wives of the men he has killed. The women are highly skilled in these matters. Under their hands and the sharp blades of their skinning knives he shall endure many days in torment before he pa.s.ses into the belly of h.e.l.l and the arms of Satan.'

'As you command, mighty Khan, so shall it be,' they murmured agreement.

'Are you listening to me, my grandson?' Sheikh Khan demanded. Adam bowed again, deeply, reverently.

'I am listening, revered grandfather.'

'I place the debt of the blood feud squarely on your shoulders. You must collect payment for your two uncles and for your own father. May you know no rest or peace until the debt is paid in full.'

'I hear you, my grandfather. It is a sacred trust.'