Sharp Shot (11 page)

“OK,” Chance agreed seriously.

“That's my sister,” said Rich to Chuck and Kate, who
were staring at Jade and Chance with open mouths. “Welcome back,
Jade.”

Chuck White and Kate Hunter hated to leave their dead colleagues
behind. But they agreed with Chance that Darrow might return, or tip off
the local Iraqi forces that there were undesirables in the area. Either
way, they needed to move.

“The Pentagon might spot something on the satellite images for
the area,” said Chuck.

“Only if they're looking,” said Chance. “And I'm
guessing they don't know you guys are here, right?”

“True,” said Chuck. “We don't usually let the
Pentagon know what we're up to.”

“Not unless we want everyone else to know as well,”
muttered Kate.

“So where are we going?” asked Rich.

“Nearest border is a hundred and fifty kilometres that
way,” said Chance, pointing into the sandy distance.

“Nice day for a walk,” said Jade. “Bit hot
though.”

“It'll get hotter,” her father told her. “We need
to get some distance from here, then shelter from the heat of the day.
We're better moving at night.”

“He's been here before,” said Rich. As they walked, he
filled Jade in on what they knew about Darrow and the mysterious statue.

“So what happened to you?” Rich asked when he'd
finished. His mouth was dry and he could feel his lips cracking. He was
happy to stop talking for a while.

“I worked out McCain—Darrow—was up to no good. He met one
of the guys who were after us. So I guess they weren't after us at all and
it was all a set up to make us think he was in trouble.”

“Guess so.”

“But they realised I was on to them and drugged me. I woke up
in this big villa place in the middle of the desert. Some Arab bloke lives
there, I think. I assume he was guarding me for Darrow. Then Darrow
arrived in a helicopter. And here I am.”

There was precious little shelter and no sign of
water. Chance told
them to watch for birds, as they might be heading towards a water hole.
But there was no sign of life of any kind.

Eventually they slumped down on the side of a huge sandbank that
afforded a little shade. Chuck had a canteen of water, and passed it
round. They each took a small sip, each longed for more, and each knew
they had to conserve the water for as long as possible.

“So, where are we heading?” asked Jade.

“East Araby,” said Chance.

“Never heard of it,” said Rich.

“It's a small, relatively insignificant country that borders
Iraq, Kuwait and Saudi Arabia,” Kate told them. She seemed about to
say more, then caught Chuck's eye.

“The US has a large presence there,” said Chance.
“Big airbase, nuclear weapons if you believe the Russian
propaganda.” He glanced at Chuck. “That right?”

“Wouldn't know about the nukes,” said Chuck in an
offhand tone that suggested that actually he knew all about them.
“But yes, it's our biggest base in the region. The country has no
oil, so they'd be pretty badly off if it weren't for the aid we give
them.”

“In return for the airbase?” said Rich.

“Only place round here where we can keep our Stealth Bombers…according
to rumour, anyway,” said Chuck. He smiled. “The
country's ruled by King Hassan. He's very pro-western. Very progressive.
He's brought the country to the brink of democracy.”

“Is that the place where there are going to be
elections?” asked Jade. “There was a documentary or
something, wasn't there?”

“That's right,” said Kate. “There are elections
due in the next month. It's a big thing. First country round here to
embrace democracy.”

“It's a brave man who gives up power,” said Chance.
“Let's hope it all goes smoothly.”

“You mean it might not?” said Rich. “Don't tell me
we're walking out of the desert and into a coup.”

Chuck smiled. “Hassan is a powerful and well-respected man.
What he says, goes. The military might not like it, but they'll accept it
because Hassan is a hero to them too. So long as King Hassan is in charge
and stays on as a ceremonial Head of State, they'll go along with
it.”

“You know a lot about this,” said Chance quietly.

“I read widely,” Chuck told him.

But Rich sensed there was more to it than that—an undercurrent of
meaning that he was missing.

“Right, let's move on,” said Chance. “It's getting
cooler as evening approaches, and I'd like to cover another few miles
before sunset.”

The heat of the sand was seeping through Jade's trainers. Every step
seemed to sink deeper into the hot desert so that it was like wading
through treacle. Her eyes were half closed against the dazzling sun.
They'd walked for so long that Jade could barely remember anything other
than the heat, anything other than the effort of putting one foot in front
of the other.

“Are we nearly there yet?” asked Rich in a whining
kiddie voice.

Jade laughed despite herself. Or tried to. Her throat felt like it
was clogged with sand. Every scorching breath was an effort.

They were climbing steadily. But the convex shape of the sand dune
meant that the top was always out of sight. Jade had no idea how much
further it was to the summit, but she did know that even then there would
be another dune to climb. The desert stretched for ever in every direction
—just like the view from Ali's villa,
only this time there was no
swimming pool in the middle of it.

The others stopped for a breather, but Jade didn't notice. With her
eyes screwed almost shut, lashes flecked with sand, she just kept walking.
She vaguely heard Rich calling after her, but now she was at the top,
looking down into a valley below.

A valley of unbroken, baking sand.

Except…

There was something at the base of the dune. A dark shape, a patch of
shade. Relief from the sun. She stood staring down at it, trying to work
out what it was. Could it be a dark patch of water? Or just discoloured
sand? The remains of a fire? What?

Chance struggled up behind her. “We're at the top,” he
said, his voice a dry croak. “We'll walk along the ridge. Makes us
easier to see, but it means we can see ahead too.”

Jade just pointed. She wasn't sure her voice would work, but she
tried: “What's that?”

Chance shaded his eyes from the sun. “Not sure…” There
was a note of hope in his voice. “Got to be worth a look,
though.” He turned and waved to the others, beckoning them on.

It was a relief to be heading downwards. Sand spilled from every
heavy footstep, cascading down the sides of the valley. Jade and the
others built up a momentum that carried them quickly down the steep bank.

Soon they were close enough to see what the dark shape at the bottom
was.

“I'm guessing that isn't a good sign,” Rich gasped.

It was a dead camel.

“Depends how long it's been dead,” said Chance. He
skidded to a halt at the bottom of the sand dune, close to the corpse.

“A while, I'd say,” said Chuck, arriving beside Chance,
Rich and Jade.

Kate Hunter was just behind him. “I'm not eating that,”
she said.

Jade was doing her best not to be sick from the smell. Kate's words
almost tipped her over the edge. “Gross,” she gasped.

“We may not have a lot of choice,” said Chance. He waved
his hand to try to get rid of some of the flies that had left the dead
camel to investigate the newcomers. “Doubt there's any blood left to
drink, and you're right, the meat will be rancid. What's left of
it.”

“You're doing this deliberately,” said Jade, turning
away.

She didn't need to look any closer at the camel to know it had been
dead for days. The carcass was covered in flies, the flesh and skin
stripped away in places.

“Well, at least we know we're not far from a pathway or route
of some kind,” said Chance.

“One dead camel tells you that?” said Rich. “It
could have just wandered here and got lost. It is dead, after all.”

“I assume there are wild camels,” said Kate. “He's
right; it probably just got lost or wandered off sick or
something.”

“You can see where it was wearing a bridle,” said Chuck
quietly. “John's right. This animal belonged to someone. Out in the
desert, you don't lose a camel, not unless you're really unlucky.”

“So, there might be people around?” asked Jade. Suddenly
things didn't seem quite so bad. “Maybe we can find them. Can we
signal or something?”

“You're assuming that they'll be friendly,” Chuck told
her.

“Won't they?” said Rich.

“They might resent us being in their territory,” said
Chance. “Or they might be rebel fighters who'll happily kill any
foreigners they find—especially Americans and Britions. At best they'll
just resent having to provide more people with food and water and leave us
here.”

“Glad I asked,” muttered Rich.

“And the good news is?” Jade prompted. Despite the smell
and the grossness of it all, she couldn't help looking at the poor, dead
animal. She was trying to see the bridle Chuck had spotted, but the whole
thing was just a desiccated mess of hair and bone and…

“The good news is that we can't be far from a recognised route.
And a route has to go somewhere,” Chance was saying.

But Jade was no longer listening. She was staring at the rotting
carcass, unable to believe what she was seeing. “It's
moving,” she said. “Look—there, in its side, there's
something moving.”

The hole in the camel's side was a dark blotch of shadow. But part of
that darkness was detaching itself, clawing its way out of the side of the
camel. Pale legs reached out, gripping the side of the wound. A
massive,
bulbous shape heaved itself out of the dead
camel.

“Oh—my—God,” said Rich.

Kate Hunter gave a shriek of horror.

Chuck and Chance backed slowly away.

The spider that crawled down the side of the camel was the size of a
plate—easily fifteen centimetres across. The pale legs were attached to
a long, dark, segmented body. The head was fiery red, like the head of an
ant, but stubbled with coarse hair and ending with a vicious double set of
pincers. The creature paused on the matted hairy hide, legs quivering and
dark body pulsing slightly.

Then another one climbed out after it, and scuttled across the
camel's body before dropping to the sand just metres away from Jade and
the others.

“Remind me,” said Chuck quietly, “do we stand
absolutely still, or do we run like hell?”

“Who are you asking?” replied Rich. “And what
makes you think any of us know?”

“John?” Chuck asked Chance.

“Not a clue.”

“Reckon we should run then,” said Kate, still backing
slowly away. “I mean, how fast can a spider go?”

Kate had scarcely finished speaking when the nearest spider jumped.
Its whole body tensed, then the legs snapped out and the creature was
flying towards Jade.

Even though she was two metres away, the spider hurtled straight at
her. Jade gave a shriek and lashed out. Her hand connected with the
spider, knocking it sideways. The pale-bodied creature crashed down at
Jade's feet. It was almost as big as her shoe—bigger than the hand she
had thumped it with.

Jade didn't wait, just turned and ran, her feet sticking and sliding
in the sand. The spider was following her, tracking Jade's shadow across
the valley, keeping up with her.

Behind Jade, the others were running too. The second spider was a
dark shape gaining on Chuck and Kate. Rich and Chance were climbing up the
steep valley side.

Jade dodged suddenly sideways, but the spider changed direction too.
It wasn't gaining on her, but it was keeping pace. She glanced down, saw
the pincers working, and ran faster. The spider stayed with her. It was
playing with her—it could catch her whenever it wanted.

So Jade stopped, and kicked out. The spider darted aside, and she
missed. Then it came at her again. Another leap and Jade barely ducked out
of the way in time. She could see Kate and Chuck were climbing the bank.
Maybe the spider couldn't cope with the slope. Jade staggered up the steep
incline. Each step she took, she slipped back down with cascades of sand.
She kicked at the valley wall, sending an avalanche down over the spider—
burying it.

But moments later, sharp pincers emerged from the sand as the
creature burrowed out and came after her again.

Jade reached the top, too exhausted to go on. Her legs buckled under
her and she slumped to the ground. Her cheek was pressed to the burning
sand. The spider was scuttling rapidly towards her, pincers clicking
hungrily.

It halted just centimetres away, head swaying slightly as if watching
her. At the same moment, a shadow fell across Jade. The heat and glare of
the sun were blotted out by a figure.

All around, along the top of the sand dune, dozens of figures were
rising up. Their robes were tattered and faded, their dark faces weathered
by years in the desert.
The man standing over Jade raised a rifle, holding it in one hand. The
spider quivered in anticipation and the man let out an angry roar, then
brought the gun slamming down towards Jade's head.

There was a sickening crunch as the spider was crushed beneath the
butt of the gun. The man reached down with his other hand and helped Jade
to her feet.

He barely spared her a glance. The man was looking over her shoulder,
and his face split into a massive grin.

“English!” he exclaimed.

Jade watched in amazement as the man stepped forward and dragged her
dad into an enormous hug.

“We meet again, English,” the man said, shaking with
laughter. “It has been a long time, but now you have come for your
camel, no?”

Picking up on his cue, the other figures also began to laugh. Soon
the desert echoed with the sound of their mirth.

“You speak their language?” asked Chuck.

Chance shrugged. “Enough to get by. Kassim's English is good
enough for us to understand each other.”

“And you really have a camel?” asked Rich.

“Well, sort of. I did these guys a favour a while back. They
gave me a camel as a thank you and I said they could look after it for me
till I came back.” He frowned. “I just hope they don't expect
me to take it with me when we go.”

Jade was sipping from a small leather bag filled with water.
“Our own camel could be useful.”

Kassim arrived in time to hear this, and he laughed again.
“Only you English would be brave enough to come into the desert
without water or a camel.”

“Americans—” Kate started to say, but Chance
gestured to her to be quiet.

“Americans?” Kassim spat on his hand. “Only
Americans would be
foolish
enough.” He glared
suspiciously at Kate. “Are you brave or foolish?”

“Brave,” she said quickly. “Always brave.”

“Except when there are spiders about,” said Chuck
quietly.

But Kassim heard him. “Camel spiders are no danger.”

“Camel spiders?” said Jade. “Is that what they
were?”

“Some call them desert spiders, or wind scorpions. They usually
hunt at night. Insects, birds—even real scorpions are their prey. They
crush scorpions so fast they cannot sting.”

Jade grimaced, but Kassim laughed again.

“They do not attack us. Not usually, not unless they are
frightened. They have no poison, but they can bite. Very nasty
bite.”

“So why was that one chasing me?” Jade demanded.

Kassim rattled off an explanation in his own language, then shrugged
apologetically.

“I think he said they lie in wait for insects and birds close
to dead camels. The reason they were chasing us is that they like the
shade,” Chance explained. “That spider wasn't actually
interested in you, Jade. He just wanted to stay cool. He was chasing your
shadow.”

“And you killed it?” Jade accused.

Kassim's eyes widened in surprise. “Next one we find, I catch
it for you as a pet,” he said. Then he
turned to Chance.
“Now, since we are speaking of pets, I have your camel still. You
can have him if you wish, or I can make a trade with you.”

“You want to buy my camel back?” said Chance, amused.

“I think a deal would suit us both. We are very civilised
people now. We speak English, we have modern equipment.” Kassim
gave another gap-toothed grin. “You give me back the camel, and I
will let you use our radio. Deal?”

Chance didn't need to check with the others. He nodded.
“Deal.”

The expert at the British Museum was called Julius and he was younger
than Jade had expected. For some reason she'd thought that someone who
knew all about ancient artefacts and antiquities would be old. In fact, he
looked about the same age as her dad.

The journey back had been swift. Ardman might not have been able to
arrange another helicopter to get them out of the desert quickly, but
Chuck's colleagues in Washington had. Jade and her brother and father had
said goodbye to Chuck and Kate when they reached Kuwait. It was a parting
tinged with sadness as
they remembered the Americans' colleagues who would
not return. But Jade was also happy and relieved to be safe and well and
back with her family. She and Rich slept for most of the flight back to
Heathrow—which was just as well, since a car was waiting at the arrivals
terminal to whisk them straight to the British Museum.

Now they were in a small, book-lined office in the Department of
Antiquities. The pictures from Chance's mobile phone had been printed out
and computer-enhanced. They were spread out on the old mahogany desk that
dominated the small room. Julius was examining one of them through an
eyeglass. He straightened up, the eyeglass dropping into his waiting hand.

“Any ideas?” asked Chance.

“A few. None of them very useful, I'm afraid.” Julius
tapped the photo he had been examining. “The design suggests it's
old. Maybe even Babylonian.”

“Valuable?” asked Rich eagerly.

“Oh yes. But not outrageously. If it's genuine and not a later
copy, then we're talking thousands, not tens of thousands of
pounds.”

“The people who wanted it went to a lot of trouble
for
something that's only worth thousands of pounds,” said Chance.

“Maybe it's more valuable to them. Some symbolic or personal
value.”

“Or it's not quite what it seems.”

Julius smiled. “Nothing is ever
quite
what it
seems.”

“Could it be much older than you think?” asked Jade.
“Would that make it more valuable?”

“It would,” Julius conceded. “But without the
actual statue there's no way of knowing. Its provenance might be
important, but that would be hard to prove.”

“What do you mean?” asked Rich.

“Well, if this statue was once owned by—or even made for—
Alexander the Great, then it would be worth a lot more to a collector or a
museum than if it was just one of a dozen that was owned by Joe Smith.
But, as I say, proving that was the case would be tricky. You'd need some
accompanying documentation, or an unambiguous reference to this specific
piece in some account from the period.”

“Maybe that's what Darrow has,” said Jade. “Maybe
that's why he's suddenly interested in the statue again after all this
time, because he's found some document that proves it's worth
millions.”

“It's a nice looking piece,” Julius admitted. “Can
I ask why you left it in the desert in the first place?”

“Too heavy to carry, simple as that.”

“Really?” Julius frowned and leafed through the pictures
again. “How heavy?”

Chance shrugged. “Five kilos. Give or take.”

“It shouldn't weigh anything like that much.” He tapped
his chin with a thoughtful finger. “It was definitely ceramic rather
than stone?”

“Terracotta, something like that.”

“I've got a bit of it here, if that helps,” said Rich.

Julius looked up from the pictures. “It certainly does.”

Rich took the beetle clicker toy from his pocket. He turned it upside
down and levered up the strip of metal that made the clicking noise. Then
he tipped out the sliver of material Chance had chipped off the base of
the statue.

Julius examined it through his eyeglass. “Ceramic of some sort.
Pottery…” He sat back in his chair. “I'll get some tests
done and let you know if we find out anything useful. But on the face of
it, I have to say, it's an interesting, but unremarkable piece.”

Ardman convened a meeting in the library of Algernon's house. The only
other people present were Jade, Rich and Chance. Alan and Pete had tracked
Darrow and the helicopters for at least some of their journey.

“They have a short range capacity, so there's not many places
they could have come from or gone to,” explained Pete.

“Well, only one, realistically,” added Alan. “We'd
know if they went to Kuwait. And Iran's pretty well covered, so it's
unlikely they got in and out without us seeing them.”

“Could they be local to Iraq?” asked Ardman.

Pete shook his head. “Got the possible locations in that
country under so much air surveillance we'd know if a pigeon took off or
landed.”

“Which, given the range and the direction we last had them
heading, leaves East Araby,” Alan told them.

“I thought that was a friendly country,” said Jade,
remembering their discussions in the desert.

“It is,” said Chance. “But no one said this was
any sort of official or sanctioned mission. Darrow obviously has
influence, and probably money.”

“So why's he need the statue?” asked Rich.

“Why indeed?” echoed Ardman. “Whatever is going
on, we can't afford to upset King Hassan, or allow Darrow to do anything
that might sour our relations with East Araby. Especially now the
elections are coming up.”

“The helicopters were military,” said Chance.
“Maybe things have already gone sour. Maybe Hassan is working
against us.”

“Unlikely,” said Ardman. “He's always been very
pro-US and—UK, but there are factions within the military who don't take
kindly to American nuclear weapons and Stealth Bombers being based in
their country.” He turned to Alan. “Have you got a picture of
Hassan?”

“There'll be one on the web. Give us a second.”

Moments later, Alan swung one of the monitors round so they could all
see the photograph it displayed. A man's face—dark, handsome, with a
neatly trimmed black beard and deep-set eyes. The man was smiling; a
kindly face.

A face that Jade recognised.

“That's King Hassan?”

“Sure is,” said Alan. “Official portrait.”

Jade was shaking her head in disbelief. “But that's
the man at the
desert villa, the man who held me
captive.”

“You're sure?” asked Ardman.

Jade nodded. “He said something about his people. About how I
was doing his country a great service.”

Ardman was frowning. “It sounds like we may have misjudged the
situation rather badly.”

“Jade,” said Chance, “you're absolutely sure that
this is the man?”

“I'm sure.” There was no doubt in her mind. “I
mean, it's obviously an old photo, because his beard's gone grey and he's
much older now than he is there.” She pointed at the screen.

Ardman's frown deepened. “When was that portrait taken?”

Alan checked something on another screen. “The press release
says it was taken in May.”

“What year?” asked Ardman impatiently.

“This year.”

Ardman nodded as if he had expected this. “That photo certainly
looks like the King Hassan that
I
remember. He's a
relatively young man.” He turned to Jade. “Perhaps you met
someone else—someone who looks like King Hassan, but older. Did he
give
you any clue as to who he might be?”

“He said his name was Ali. I assumed that was just a
pseudonym.”

“Or maybe not.” Ardman went over to the keyboard Alan
had been using and typed something in. A few seconds and several mouse
clicks later, the picture changed to what looked like an older version of
the same man.

“That's him!” said Jade. “Without a doubt. That's
exactly what he looked like.”

Ardman nodded grimly. “That is Crown Prince Ali, the King's
uncle. Until the King was born, he was heir to the throne. And he is heir
to the throne still, until the King has a son.”

“A throne that will have no power after the elections,”
said Chance. “His nephew is in effect abdicating, and staying on
only as a figurehead in the new democracy.”

“Ali is fiercely opposed to the democratisation of his
country,” Ardman agreed. “He feels he was cheated of the
throne nearly thirty years ago when his brother's wife turned out to be
expecting a child after King Omar died. Ali reckoned he had the top job,
and then he lost out to a baby. He's tried to influence the child
ever
since, but had to watch as the country's moved closer to the West, and the
US installed bases in return for aid and funding that Ali doesn't
want.”

“So he's just a powerless would-be dictator?” said Rich.

“Not quite powerless,” said Chance. “He's head of
the country's armed forces. So he certainly has access to helicopter
gunships.”

“He also has a private palace right slap bang in the middle of
the Araby Desert,” Pete announced. “I've got some nice
satellite images here. Private helipad, rooftop pool, and golden sand as
far as the eye can see in every direction, except for a small private
airstrip.”

“Sounds familiar,” said Jade. “And like I told
you, there's a secret laboratory too.”

Chance's mobile rang, and he glanced at the display before answering
it. The conversation was short, Chance murmuring a thank you and ending
the call.

“That was Julius,” he said, “and it sounds like
the answers can't come soon enough. He's analysed the pottery shard we
gave him, and he's managed to estimate the age of the statue.”

“It's ancient, isn't it?” said Rich. “Got to be.
Worth millions, I bet.”

“Not exactly,” said Chance. “Julius says he can't
give an exact date, but all the tests suggest that the statue was made
less than thirty years ago.”