The Trespass (30 page)

Kadesh looked at her disdainfully. “Don’t speak to me of injustice.”

“Tarshish was killed by a man acting in self-defense. Can’t you see that?” Sara pressed on, ignoring the tremor in her voice. “I loved him too. You know I did.”

“Tarshish was killed
unjustly
. He was my brother. Killed by an
outsider
. The price must be paid. It is the law.” Kadesh spat the words.

Sara knew that argument was futile. His mind was made up. Her only chance was to stall the execution of his decision. Kadesh, ruler of the Korumak, master-planner and – to his people – successful in the most audacious of all enterprises, would not be moved to another course of action by a mere woman. Or would he? In this she sensed a slender opportunity. She knew of his passion, the passion that had sidelined Ruth and transformed her sister into a desperate, bitter woman. Sara smiled at the irony of it. Ruth, the girl most likely to be married the moment her first blood made its appearance, pursued by more young men than Sara could remember, had rejected all in favour of this cold, calculating saviour. But his eyes had not been on Ruth; they had been on her younger sister, the dowdy Sara. It was a situation that had prompted Sara’s voluntary exit from her home into the strangeness of the West.

Her education had had a profound effect on her, the culture even more so. Could she not remain faithful to the Korumak and live out her dreams as well? But Kadesh’s eyes were never far from her. Contact had been maintained; at first just a comforting sense of protection, but then demands had been made. The culmination of half a century of investigation, infiltration, checking and double-checking was upon her people. The moment was nigh. And the plan had succeeded. The American government had been caught half asleep as the wisdom of God and one man’s brilliance removed their prized acquisition from under their noses. And then she had been sent to Dracup. The failsafe. Nothing had escaped Kadesh’s attention, not even the death of an old lady in Aberdeen and the tiny time bomb that lay in a locked drawer waiting for Dracup to open it; the only means by which the Korumak could be traced.

“Come to me.” Kadesh reached out and touched her hair. “Be with me in these times of fulfilled prophecy. Be with me at the end of the age.”

She recoiled involuntarily. She found him repellant, although she could never say exactly why. He was handsome – perhaps striking – to look at, and his body, although slender, was strong and muscular. But his heart; it was cold like the stone of the caverns.

And he’s not Simon Dracup.

Sara checked herself and forced a smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to –”

“Why pretend?” Kadesh said, letting his arm drop. “Love is something that cannot be forced.”

Sara’s thoughts tumbled over themselves. What could she say to capitalize on Kadesh’s reflective mood? “You have the love of your people. And in that sense, mine as well.”

“You think so?” Kadesh shook his head slowly. “They fear me. It is not the same.”

“But –”

Kadesh held up his hand. “No. You feel it too. The fear.” He turned to her and his eyes were cold in the moonlight, like a cat’s. “Let me tell you, beautiful Sara, I have not taken this course of action lightly. We have succeeded only through care, diligence and commitment. My father was wrong when he based his leadership on loyalty. Had he taken my advice our legacy would have been returned to us years ago. He was weak. I am strong. And strength, when combined with zero tolerance of failure, engenders fear; and fear is a greater incentive than loyalty.” He leaned over and stroked Sara’s hand. “Fear is an asset, a weapon. When used correctly it can produce startling results.”

“Let the girl go, Kadesh.” Sara let her hand remain under his. “I do not fear you, as you suppose. I appeal to you as my – as my brother.”

Kadesh leaned back in his seat and laughed. “To do what? Deliver her back to Dracup? Perhaps I should free you as well – now, that would be generous.” He squeezed her hand, applying pressure. “But your place is here. You are a part of us, not of them. Our God has set your path. He governs your destiny, not your selfish whims and weak emotion.”

Sara held herself in check. The pain in her fingers was intense but she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of succumbing.

Kadesh released the pressure and smiled. “So. Our destinies, it would seem, are misaligned and likely to remain so.” He pondered in silence for a few moments. “God is telling me I must make a decision.” Kadesh watched Sara intently, waiting for a reaction. “But maybe there is an alternative: let’s see if Professor Dracup is as bright as you think. And we can make the whole
affair
more interesting by setting a deadline.” Kadesh made a mock gesture of alarm. “Forgive me. A poor choice of phrase, but accurate nonetheless.”

Sara went cold.

Kadesh held out his hand. “The PDA, if you please.”

Sara took out the device and handed it to Kadesh. She watched as he accessed the electronic information. “Aha.
Urgent.zip
.” Kadesh scrutinized the files. He found Natasha’s photograph, the one she had taken by the falls. “Very pretty. We’ll send this, shall we? With a little note, perhaps. But the other attachments... maybe not.” Kadesh looked up at Sara. “I went to a great deal of trouble to secure this information. American intelligence take their IT security very seriously. It would be careless of me to let it go so easily, don’t you agree? Now, what can we say to your friend?” He drew out the stylus and began to write. When he had finished he held it up for Sara’s inspection:

‘
Professor Dracup – I hadn’t intended to contact you but as you are displaying such remarkable tenacity I am willing to offer a small incentive. You have 48 hrs. At dawn on the 28th day, the death sentence will be carried out. The girl and your lover will die – unless I have the sceptre in my possession by the time the sun rises. Up to now you have shown creditable resourcefulness. Please don’t disappoint me.

Sara swallowed. “But Mukannishum –”

“May fail.” Kadesh slipped the PDA under his robe. “And the irony of a Dracup doing my bidding is too perfect an opportunity to miss.”

“Don’t underestimate him,” Sara began, then gasped as Kadesh caught her arm in a pincer grip. She fought back, spitting the words out. “He will be your undoing – he –” She felt a crushing blow to the back of her neck, and then she was falling and all was darkness.

The lion paused, sizing up the two men. Dracup kept very, very still and returned the lion’s stare. He thought of his childhood friend, Sunil. Dracup’s father used to call him the jungle boy, such was his expertise with animals.
What would Sunil do?
He heard his friend’s voice across the years:
Don’t look away. Don’t turn your back. Make yourself as big as possible.
Dracup was vaguely aware of Mukannishum fumbling around with something – or was he just altering position to ease the pressure on his broken legs? Whatever, the lion was concentrating on Mukannishum now, pawing the ground deliberately. Its body tensed, the shoulders went down a fraction.
It’s going to pounce.

Dracup tensed with it. He prepared to fling himself to one side, and risked a glance at Mukannishum. The man wore a strange grin and his breathing was heavy.
Wait. His hand. There’s something in his hand.
Dracup caught sight of a fat, cylindrical object. Mukannishum clutched it to his chest, as if holding a token of love. By then Dracup had realized what it was. He brought his foot down hard on Mukannishum’s forearm and the fist sprang open as Mukannishum howled in pain. The object rolled off his ribcage onto the ground and came to rest against Dracup’s boot. Dracup aimed a kick as the lion launched itself into the air, saw the grenade spin off the end of his foot and spiral away towards the pit wall. At the same time he was knocked to one side by the lion’s body as it landed squarely on top of Mukannishum. Dracup was dimly aware of a high-pitched scream, but then felt himself lifted on a warm blast of air as the grenade exploded with a muffled
crack
against the volcanic rock of the pit wall.

Dracup sat up, dazed. He felt blood trickle down his face and wiped it away with an impatient gesture. Where was the lion? As the dust settled he saw the animal’s bulky shape beside Mukannishum. It was immobile, perhaps stunned by the blast.
Or dead?
Dracup hawked and spat dust from his mouth. He was desperately thirsty; the afternoon sun was slowly sucking the remaining moisture from his body. He could make no saliva. For the first time he began to doubt his survival. A strange lassitude came over him. And then, as the settling dust gradually revealed the far wall, his heart leapt with excitement. The grenade had blown open a fissure, depositing a pile of rocks and boulders around its base. It looked feasible for a climb – if he could flank the lion. He prepared to crawl.

At that moment, Mukannishum writhed and shouted. The lion lashed out with a paw and followed with a lunge to the neck. Mukannishum’s cries ceased abruptly. Dracup held his breath. The animal bared its teeth and let out an eardrum-perforating roar. Dracup began to crawl slowly, hugging the wall, in a direction that would bring him round to the fissure behind the animal’s back. He hoped that it would be too busy with Mukannishum to concern itself with him. But Dracup had another worry: the noise of the explosion would surely bring the priests back to check on their captives. He crawled on. The heat was unbearable, his tongue a dry stick of flesh against the roof of his mouth. He drifted in and out of consciousness, startling himself awake as the lion’s face filled his dreams. Once he awoke with a cry and froze in horror at the sound he had made. But the lion was busy; he heard chewing and the occasional crack of bone.

Dracup opened his eyes. The sun had set and a cool wind fanned his face. He had covered three quarters of the distance between his original position and his destination: the fissure in the wall. But now he saw that his way was guarded. The lion was crouched beside the larger rockfall, blocking his route. Beside the tree lay a pile of rags from which protruded the odd glint of white. Ragged strips of flesh hung from the mess like some careless butcher’s offcuts. Dracup felt his gorge rise. The lion was licking its paws with slow, deliberate movements of its head. Where were the priests? He was curious at their indifference. But then, the pit wall could have muffled the noise of the explosion. Dracup tried to swallow and failed. Despair clutched at him again. No one would pass this way; he was miles from the town. He thought of his hotel room with its solitary suitcase. Another missing traveller. He thought of Natasha, and then of Yvonne, sitting in the darkness of her living room, counting the hours until daybreak. He began to crawl again.

For the first few minutes the lion ignored him, but then it shook itself abruptly, stretched, yawned and began to walk across the pit towards him. Dracup tried to get up but found his legs so weak that he faltered and fell into a kneeling position as the lion approached.
Like a man about to be executed
. He was surprised at how little fear he felt, just a sense of the inevitable. An image of Sunil came into his mind.
Never turn your back.

Dracup watched the lion as it sidled up to him. The closeness of the animal made him hold his breath. He sensed the power under the yellowish, tanned hide. He admired the poise of the beast, its black mane, the huge, regal head. The lion paraded up and down restlessly, closing the distance with each pass.
Talk to me, Sunil, talk to me
. He raised his right arm and motioned gently to the lion; speaking softly but firmly, he made a soothing noise in his throat, then a long, sideways motion with his hand. The animal lowered its head and growled; its paws raked the pit floor. It seemed unfazed by Dracup’s entreaties. He counted to ten and began again. Sweat ran down his face. He could hear Sunil as clearly as if he were back in the Secunderabad of the Sixties. The boy’s turban was white, contrasting with his dusky skin. He was smiling and wagging his finger.
Confidence, Simon. You have to show them who’s boss, you know? You can’t show any weakness...
Dracup gestured again, smoothly, both palms down. He flexed his thigh muscles and straightened up.
Nice and slow, Dracup, nice and slow
. For the first time the lion seemed unsure. And then very suddenly it spread itself full length before him, resting its head on its paws.

“Strewth. I don’t reckon you learned that in the bloody anthropology department...”

Dracup looked up with a start. Halfway down the rockfall, regarding him with a bemused expression on his sunburnt face, was Dan Carey.

“Well don’t just stand there, mate. If you’ve finished practising on old Simba,” he waved a hand vaguely in the lion’s direction, “then may I suggest we make a dignified exit?”

Dracup could have laughed and cried at the same time. He backed away from the lion and seized Carey’s outstretched arm. His legs were an old man’s, his hands trembling like a drunk’s. Dracup leaned on the Kiwi and began to climb the rockfall towards the lip of the pit. The temporary platform created by the blast was treacherous and Dracup felt it slide precariously under his feet, but Carey picked his way expertly up the last few metres, digging his fingertips into the tuff to gain a handhold. Presently his head appeared over the lip of the crater and he stretched a muscular arm down to Dracup. Dracup felt himself hauled over the edge and soon lay splayed out on the shale and dust of the pit edge. Carey produced a water bottle and supported his head. “Slowly, mate. There’s plenty here.”