Midnight Runner (10 page)

V
illiers had left most of the Scouts in Cornet Bobby Hawk's hands and was proceeding down the desert road to Hazar Town. This was hill country, filled with rocky defiles and great cliffs the color of ocher. There was no traffic, not a sign of another human being, not even a goatherd.

He had two Land Rovers with eight men, including himself, a light machine gun mounted in each vehicle. It was incredibly hot and dusty, and Villiers was looking forward with pleasure to his room at the Excelsior Hotel, a bath, and a fresh uniform.

They stopped by a pool at a spot called Hama at the foot of some cliffs. The water was deep and cool, and one of the men stood on watch with a machine gun, while the others took off their bandoliers and sandals, walked into the pool in their robes, and splashed each other like children. Villiers lit a cigarette and watched, amused, but the smile quickly vanished as a spattering of stones came down the cliff in a shower. He glanced up, and his men started to plunge through the water to their weapons. A shot rang out and the leading man went down, a bullet in his head.

The machine gunner raked the cliffs up above for a full minute, as the men reached their rifles and fired up, too, but there was no reply. Villiers brought it to a stop. There was silence now.

Selim crawled to him beside one of the Land Rovers, and Villiers waited for a while, then stood up.

"No, Sahb," the Sergeant said.

The silence was eerie. "It's all right. Whoever it was has gone already. I don't know why, but it was hit-and-run."

"Maybe Adoo bandits from the Yemen, Sahb. Or maybe Omar there offended someone?" They gazed at the floating body.

"No, it could have been any one of you." He turned to his men. "Go on, get him out of the water."

Three of them waded in and pulled the body out. They had a couple of body bags in one of the Land Rovers amongst the general supplies and got Omar into one.

"Put him on the hood of number two Land Rover," Villiers ordered. "And tie him on tight. The next few miles are rough."

Someone produced a coil of rope and they placed the body as instructed, running the rope across and beneath the vehicle. The other Scouts watched in silence, subdued.

"Right, we'll move out now," Villiers said.

Selim sat beside him, looking troubled. "Sahb, one thing puzzles me. If the man who did this thing simply wanted to kill only one of us, why not the Sahb, why not the most important of us?"

"Because they didn't want me dead," Villiers told him. "They just wanted to send a signal, Selim."

Selim looked even more troubled. "Can this be so, Sahb? Who would want this?"

"Someone from the Empty Quarter. One of those people who shouldn't be here and perhaps shouldn't be there, Selim. We'll find out soon enough." He smiled. "As Allah wills."

Selim, deeply disturbed, looked away, and Villiers lit a cigarette and leaned back.

T
he Port of Hazar was small, with white houses, narrow alleys, and two bazaars, but the port area was busy, filled with shabby coastal ships, Arab dhows, and fishing boats. The two Land Rovers stopped at the largest mosque, where Villiers delivered Omar's body to the Iman.

Afterwards, they drove down to the Excelsior Hotel, where he told Selim and the other five Scouts to take a couple of days off and gave them twenty dollars, each in fives. They were American dollars, an old custom that delighted them, for U.S. dollars were greatly appreciated in Hazar. He told them he knew where to find them if necessary and dismissed them.

The Excelsior dated from colonial days and still had a whiff of British Empire about it. The bar had the look of an old movie, with cane furniture, fans turning on the ceiling, and a marble-topped bar, bottles arranged behind. The barman, Abdul, wore a white monkey jacket from his days as a waiter on cruise ships.

"Lager," Villiers told him, "and as cold as it gets."

He went out through the French doors and sat in a large cane chair, the awning above his head flapping in the wind. Abdul brought the lager. Villiers ran a finger down the glass, beaded with moisture, then drank slowly, but without stopping, washing away the sand and the heat and the dirt of the border country.

Abdul had waited, an old ritual. "Another one, Sahb?"

"Yes, thank you, Abdul."

Villiers lit a cigarette and looked out to the horizon, a dark mood on him. Maybe it was the death of Omar, and the puzzle why he himself had been spared. On the other hand, maybe he'd stayed in Hazar too long. He'd been married once, more years ago than he cared to remember: Gabrielle of the blond hair and the green eyes, the love of his life. But he'd been away from home too much, they'd drifted apart, and finally divorced just before the Falklands War. What made it worse was that she'd married the enemy, an Argentine Air Force fighter ace who later became a general.

No one could ever replace her. There had been women, of course, but never one to move him enough to marry again. For Villiers, it had been a life of soldiering in strange places, his only anchor the old family house in West Sussex, and the home farm, worked by his nephew, who was married with two children and also doubled as the estate manager. They were always begging him to give up soldiering while he was still in one piece and come home.

Abdul interrupted his reverie with the second lager. Someone called, "I'll have one of those," and Villiers turned to see Ben Carver walk in wearing flying overalls and a Panama hat. He flopped down in the chair opposite Villiers and fanned his face with the hat.

"Christ, it's hot out there."

"How's the air taxi business?"

"Lucrative, with all those oil leases out there on the border country. I've replaced the Three-Ten your friend Dillon crashed last year."

"He didn't crash it, he was shot down by Bedu, as you well know."

"All right, so he was shot down. I've still got the Golden Eagle, and I've got a couple of South African kids flying over in my new Beechcraft. Well, it's not exactly new, but it'll do nicely."

"Are they going to stay?"

"They're giving it six months. I need someone. There's a lot of Rashid work around."

"I hear she's coming in today."

"The Countess? Yeah, she's flying in with someone named Dauncey. Not staying long, though. Got a slot back to London day after tomorrow."

"Dauncey is her cousin. Tell me, Ben, when you fly to oil sites out there in the Empty Quarter, do you see much action?"

"Action? What do you mean?"

"Well, since the Sultan won't let the Scouts cross the border anymore, I just don't know things the way I used to. Who do you see?"

Carver wasn't smiling now. "A few caravans, will that do?" He swallowed his lager and stood. "I see nothing, Tony."

"Which is what you're paid to do?"

"I'm paid to fly to exploratory oil wells, land in the desert, then fly back." He walked to the door and turned. "And I'm paid to mind my own business. You should try it."

"So that means you don't fly that new toy of hers, the Scorpion? I've seen that helicopter crossing the line dozens of times when we've been on patrol. That isn't you at the controls?"

Carver glared as he walked out, and as Villiers stood, he realized Abdul was carefully cleaning a glass-topped table close to the open French door. He'd obviously heard every word.

"Another lager, Colonel?"

"No, thanks." Villiers smiled. "I'll be down for dinner later," and he walked out.

H
e had a long hot shower to get really clean, then relaxed in a tepid bath for half an hour, thinking about things, particularly his encounter with Ben Carver. A good man, Ben, DFC in the Gulf War, but with an eye to his bank account. He wouldn't want to rock the boat, especially the Rashid boat. There were certain things Villiers could take for granted about Kate Rashid, though. She would stay at the Rashid Villa in the old quarter, a Moorish palace. At some stage, she would proceed to Shabwa Oasis by helicopter. And she would dine at the Excelsior restaurant that night, because she always did.

Evening was falling, orange streaks coloring the horizon beyond the harbor. He toweled his long hair vigorously, remembering his years with the SAS, when you were never sure what would happen next, when if you'd suddenly have to assume a civilian identity, an Army haircut wouldn't do. All that Irish time that would never go away.

As he stood at the mirror combing his hair, he thought about how to handle dinner, then decided to go all the way: no linen suit tonight, something to impress. He took a tropical uniform from the wardrobe, khaki slacks and bush shirt, the medal ribbons making a brave show. He held it up and smiled. That would do nicely.

R
upert was much impressed with the Rashid Villa. He stood in the great hall, looking up at the vaulted ceiling. There were wonderful rugs scattered on the marble floor, Arab antiques on every hand, and the walls were painted with frescoes.

"This is really quite a show."

"Thank you, darling. There are offices at the back, computers, the full Monty. This is headquarters for Rashid Investments in Hazar and the whole of Southern Arabia."

The head houseboy, who had greeted them at the great copper door, said, "Abdul, from the Excelsior, has been waiting to see you, Countess."

"Where is he?"

"With Abu."

Abu was her body servant, a fierce Bedu warrior from Shabwa Oasis. He was always there to greet her when she arrived in Hazar and stayed at her side for the length of the trip.

"We'll have tea and coffee on the terrace. Bring him to me."

She led the way up marble stairs, Rupert following, passed along an airy corridor, and came out on a wide terrace, the awning flapping in the early evening breeze. The view was stupendous, for they were high up above the rooftops.

"Magnificent." Rupert sat down and offered her a cigarette.

"It'll be dark soon. Dusk doesn't last long here," Kate said.

Behind them, Abdul was ushered in by Abu, who was tall and bearded with a hard face, and wore a white head cloth and robe.

"Abu, it is good to see you," she told him in Arabic.

He smiled, a thing he rarely did, and salaamed. "And for me to see you, Countess, is a blessing as always. This creature wishes to see you."

"Then let him speak." She said to Rupert, "Abdul is the barman at the Excelsior."

"Countess, I have news," Abdul said in Arabic.

"English, please, my cousin has no Arabic."

"Colonel Villiers came in from the border earlier this afternoon. Two Land Rovers and seven Scouts. He was ambushed when they halted at the pool at Hama. One of his men was shot dead. Omar. There was a sniper on the cliffs."

The houseboy came in with the tea and coffee, served it unobtrusively, and withdrew.

Kate Rashid said, "How do you know this?"

Abdul shrugged. "The Scouts are in the bazaar and they've been talking."

She nodded. "Is Villiers Sahb eating at the hotel tonight?"

"Yes, Countess, but I have more. The colonel was drinking lager on the terrace and Mr. Carver joined him. I managed to hear their conversation."

She turned to Rupert. "Ben Carver is an old RAF hand who runs air taxis out of Hamam. He does a lot of work for Rashid." She nodded to Abdul. "Go on."

Abdul told her everything, for he had an excellent memory and prided himself on it. When he was finished, she opened her purse and took out a fifty-dollar bill and handed it to him.

"You've done well."

He backed away and raised a hand. "No, Countess, this is for you, my gift."

"For which I thank you, but do not dishonor me by refusing mine." Abdul bowed and smiled, took the bill hurriedly, turned, and went out.

Rupert said, "So Villiers is pumping people for information?"

"On Ferguson's behalf, we can assume."

"Who ambushed him?"

"Who do you think?" She spoke to Abu. "You've done well. The one you killed, who was he, this Omar?" The answer was important. Since the Scouts were all Rashid Bedu, the family links with those in the Empty Quarter were immensely strong.

"My second cousin."

"I want no blood feud over this."

"There will be none, Countess."

"And Villiers Sahb will not be touched until I give the word."

"As you say, Countess, I would only kill him face-to-face. He is a great warrior."

"Good. My cousin here is a great warrior, too. He fought many battles with the American Marines and is precious to me. Guard him with your life."

"As you say, Countess." He went out.

She explained to Rupert what Abu had told her, and suddenly, darkness started to fall and the houseboy came in and switched on the lights. Moths fluttered instantly.

"So what now, cousin?" Rupert asked.

"I think a glass of champagne." She nodded to the houseboy, who was hovering, and gave the order. A moment later, Abu appeared.

"It grieves me to disturb you, Countess, but Selim asks to see you."

"Selim? Really? How interesting. Bring him in." She said to Rupert. "Another man has turned up--and this one is a Sergeant in the Scouts."