A Devil is vaiting

TWELVE

About two hours later, Harry Miller came back to life to a certain extent, groaning and trying to sit up. Sara was with him instantly, and Dillon and Holley scrambled up to see if there was anything to be done.

Harry was hot and feverish. Where am I? What s going on?

Dillon got an arm round him, and Sara said, The instructions the brigadier left with him say more morphine and penicillin if an episode like this occurs. Just hold him while I take care of it.

After a while, he slipped back into troubled sleep, and Parry, who had come in to see what was happening, said, Another four hours before we land, I m afraid.

We ll just have to make him as comfortable as possible, Ferguson said. Rosedene has been notified, and Charles Bellamy will be available for advice, Sara, if Harry s condition gives you cause for concern.

Roper came on screen again. Bad news, I m afraid. That jet for Bahrain altered destination twice, then vanished.

How can that be? Ferguson demanded.

It happens all the time. I shouldn t need to remind you, Charles, how often we ve done the same thing in our line of work. All the pilot has to do is stop calling in, and in this case, Arab pilots flying in Arab aircraft in Arab airspace can usually do anything they want.

So what now? Ferguson asked in despair.

Hang on, there s more, Roper said.

That Raptor helicopter that cleared off from Amira carrying Ali Selim?

What about it?

Its wreckage has been discovered by a Canadian special forces patrol on an old Russian airfield in a place called Herat, about fifty miles west of Amira. There was a badly burned corpse in it.

Are you suggesting Selim was picked up?

I ve looked up Russian Army records for that place. It has a concrete runway and was originally constructed to take large fixed-wing transport planes. Selim s Hawker, even though it s a jet, would have had no trouble landing, Roper said. In fact, the only problem would be an inconvenient Raptor helicopter and its pilot. I think it s obvious what happened there. It is a clich, but dead men tell no tales.

Fascinating stuff, Dillon put in. But it still doesn t tell us where Selim is at this precise moment in time and, even more important, what his intentions are.

You re absolutely right, Ferguson said.

I think the next thing we might hear is another of Ali Selim s anti-West diatribes in the interest of self-advertisement for his glorious cause.

The newspapers will love that, Holley said.

Which is exactly why he says that kind of thing, Sara put in. It makes sense, doesn t it? Just like Adolf Hitler, when you think of it. The villain who is so outrageous that you can laugh at him becomes tolerated by the public.

Which is when he becomes most dangerous, Holley observed. Because he takes himself seriously.

A fascinating theory, Ferguson said to Sara, but also a depressing one. The most important thing is that the Prime Minister is not a happy man. His orders are to find Ali Selim and to put everything to one side until we do. Let s get going on that, shall we?

Sara checked out Harry Miller, then sat down beside Holley again as her Codex sounded. It was Sadie. Where are you? the housekeeper demanded. I tried the house last night. No one was home, and I got worried.

I ve been on a training course, Sara told her. We re on our way back. A night flight. How are things?

The baby is doing well, but my niece isn t so good. I need to give her another week to see how things work out. A smile crept into her voice. Have you been seeing any more of that Mr. Holley?

Sara rolled her eyes. Yes, Sadie, I have.

Oh, well, at least you re getting looked after.

They talked for a minute more, then hung up.

Sadie, Sara said to Holley. Her niece needs her for longer than she thought.

I m surprised she hasn t got in touch with you before this, Holley said. If only she knew what you ve been up to, she d have a fit. What about your granddad?

I haven t exactly had time on my hands, she said. But you re right to remind me. It s a little early. I ll have some coffee and call him in an hour.

I ll get it for you, Holley said, and left her there for a few moments, thinking about what had happened in an astonishingly short period of time and wondering how she would manage to appear normal and collected when she spoke to her grandfather. In fact, he took care of the situation for her.

He sounded very cheerful. You must have wondered what happened to me. I m sorry I haven t been in touch. I ve never been so busy. Where are you, by the way, not at home? I called you there.

In an airplane, Sara told him. London-bound. I ve been away on a training trip for a couple of days. How are things going?

That s what I m calling you about. Such good news! St. Andrews University wants me to hold a seminar on comparative religion for doctoral students. It s a great honor.

When do you start?

I m already there! Two weeks, my love, I hope you don t mind. I know Sadie is away.

Nonsense. Why should I mind? She d put her Codex on speaker.

He said, Is Daniel with you?

Yes, he is.

Excellent. I m not a fool, and I m sure you re up to all sorts of devious things which occasion danger now and then. I m glad he s around to keep an eye on you.

I m sure he ll be glad to hear that, she said, deciding not to tell him he was on speaker.

He s almost biblical in a way, just like his name. A man who will always do the right thing, in spite of himself. That s very rare. I must go now I ve got an early meeting. Stay in touch.

Holley couldn t think of a thing to say. She took his hand and held it tight. There we are, then, a good girl I am. I always believe everything my granddad tells me.

Every aspect of Rubat society was so touched by Al Qaeda that Colonel Abdul Khazid, the chief of police, had long since learned to go with the flow like everyone else and do as he was told. When the Hawker put down to refuel, he knew who was on board and exactly what was expected of him. He drove out personally in an airport security van to make an apparent courtesy call on the pilots, but returned with Ali Selim and Ibrahim concealed in the back.

The Hawker was already taking off as the security van left the airport, and Khazid said, It s good to see you again. They ve been giving you problems in London, it seems.

They always are, Ali Selim said. Which is why I try to give them problems.

Khazid, ever the diplomat, said, That was a great speech in Hyde Park. Al Jazeera had it on television.

Unfortunately, such popularity also brings some inconvenience, which is why I ve dropped in here incognito. I stopped off in northern Afghanistan with British agents on my tail, intent on killing me. I m lucky to be here, out of sight while I consider the future.

Naturally, I will do everything in my power to assist in this unwelcome situation, Khazid said. My police force is small but well trained.

And capable of recognizing strangers when they see them, or those asking the wrong sort of questions?

Are you suggesting that the British know you are here?

They ll just look everywhere, and the CIA will help them. Tell me, is anything different from the last time I was here? Does Captain Ahmed still command the ship?

He likes to think he does, but only when it suits, which is seldom.

And Fatima Karim?

Is still administrator, which means she runs everything, including Ahmed, who lusts after her helplessly.

He had breached the hill with the view of the port below, a jumble of white terraces and flat roofs tumbling down to the harbor crowded with boats. Anchored in the center was the Monsoon, a three-masted traditional Arab dhow, lovingly restored by the same Gulf sheikh who owned the Hawker.

Why have we stopped? Ali Selim demanded.

You usually like the view.

Damn the view. And as far as Ahmed is concerned, that big oaf may be able to handle a ship in a storm, but it beats me how he can let a woman like Fatima walk all over him. He sighed.

Just drive.

At the main jetty, Ali Selim and Ibrahim parted from Khazid and boarded a motorboat crewed by two sailors from the Monsoon. They reached the boat in fifteen minutes and found Captain Ahmed waiting at the rail to greet them. A gaunt and anxious-looking man with an iron-gray beard, he wore traditional robes plus a dark blue naval blazer with brass buttons and a cap with gold braid.

He spoke in Arabic. Welcome, master, it is good to see you.

You look ridiculous, Ali Selim told him. Where is Fatima?

She waits for you in the owner s quarters.

Then go about your business. When I need you, I ll send for you. Go with him, Ibrahim. Get something to eat.

The owner s quarters were in the stern of the ship and very fine indeed, with polished and restored wooden floors, Persian and Indian carpets everywhere. Shuttered doors stood open in the stateroom, revealing the study behind, beautifully paneled in finest walnut and oak. Fatima Karim stood at the side of a wide Victorian desk.

She wore a black jumpsuit of raw silk and a chador in the same material. She was handsome rather than beautiful, with olive skin and violet eyes that made her extremely attractive. Her degree from the London School of Economics also made her attractive, but for different reasons.

Ali Selim spoke first and used English, reaching for her hands.

It is good to see you.

She responded warmly, her English faultless. So good to have you here safely. Things haven t gone well, from what I heard. Can I serve you coffee? It s all ready.

That would be wonderful.

A section of paneling opened into a thoroughly modern kitchen, the coffee smell heavy on the air. He sat at a small table, and she served coffee for both of them, sitting opposite. The coffee was Yemeni and excellent.

I needed that. He pushed his cup over and she refilled it.

It was bad, then?

She was totally dedicated to Al Qaeda and completely trustworthy, so he told her everything, and she listened intently, taking it all in.

He was rather somber when he finished. So death for death was my aim with Ferguson and his people, and we ve failed miserably.

You must not talk so. It s not you who has failed, but those who were supposed to serve you.

How is the Sultan?

Dr. Hassan does his best. He has an excellent setup at the palace, top staff and equipment. She shrugged. But what do you do with strokes, heart attacks, and age?

Aptly put. Do you think the Council of Elders would favor Owen for Sultan?

I wouldn t bank on that. A majority of them are traditionalists who don t care for him at all. They also don t like that he s not even married, and a known womanizer. She poured him more coffee. What do you think?

I ve only met him once, Ali Selim told her. The first time I visited the Monsoon when the sheikh brought it down to Rubat and gave a party. You hadn t joined then. Owen was a guest, and so was I.

So you ve never met again.

Well, to be honest, I ve haunted his life in a way.

What do you mean?

I ve been a ghost in his machine. He took off his glasses and polished them with his handkerchief. A ghost called Abu.

What an amazing story, Fatima said when he was finished.

Ali Selim said, Owen Rashid is not the only one who made the mistake of responding to Al Qaeda advances for corrupt reasons. He believed it would give him an advantage in the oil business, some extra muscle when wheeler-dealing in the marketplace. But like others, he discovered there was a price to pay. He had to obey orders. Osama bin Laden made that clear. There can be no difference between rich and poor in this matter.

And so it should be, she said. But where does that leave Rashid? I suppose if the Elders do choose him as Sultan, that would at least be good from Al Qaeda s point of view.

But Al Qaeda is already powerful in Rubat, Ali Selim told her. Powerful in its effect on ordinary people, most of whom work in the oil industry. You know this is true, I ve seen the reports you ve collated. However, as you say, such people are not the majority of the Council of Elders. They may well say no to Owen.

There was silence for a moment between them, and she frowned uncertainly. Are you suggesting something else? If so, what is it?

So he told her.

She was unable to speak for a few moments when he had finished, staring at him in awe. Oh, my God, she whispered.

Ali Selim said, In a newsroom, this is what a reporter would describe as a hell of a story.

In any newsroom, Fatima said. It could run for weeks.

Thanks for the input, Ali Selim told her.

Now go and find Ibrahim for me and bring him here. I know he looks frightening, but he has a highly developed sense of low cunning and that s just what we need.

Owen Rashid was running in Hyde Park when his mobile sounded. Ali Selim said, Good morning, Owen. Starting the day as usual with a run?

God help me, what do you want now? Owen demanded.

It s breakfast time, Abu, though since I ve no idea where you are, I don t know what you re up to.

Looking out the stern window of the Monsoon in Rubat Harbor.

What bloody nonsense are you giving me now?

No nonsense, Owen, I m calling you from the Monsoon. I m here on Al Qaeda business. By the way, it isn t Abu. You must excuse my little subterfuge.

Owen said, So who the hell are you?

Mullah Ali Selim.

Owen laughed wildly. I ve never heard such rubbish in my life.

What a shame. I never pegged you for a stupid man. I m just calling you to tell you I m going to phone Henri Legrande in twenty minutes. He s utterly failed me, and I thought I d let him know his shop could burn down one night this week unless he does what I say. I ve got a job for you all. If you leave now, you should be able to get there in time for me to talk to the three of you.

He switched off his mobile and turned as Fatima and Ibrahim entered. We ll have to wait for approximately twenty minutes or so. He smiled at Fatima. I ve stirred things up. If I m right, Owen s running across Park Lane through heavy morning traffic to get to his Foreign Legion friend. In the meantime, I d love another cup of that Yemeni mocha coffee.

Owen, behaving exactly as Ali Selim had predicted, had crossed Park Lane and was running so fast down Curzon Street that he missed Jean Talbot emerge on the other side of the road, bound for the park. Intrigued, she crossed the road and ran after Owen, noting him turn into Shepherd Market. A final burst of speed brought her there in time to see him hammering at the door of Mary s Bower. She stepped into a doorway, waited, saw Henri Legrande open the door, Kelly at his shoulder. The alley was quiet at that time in the morning, and she heard what they said.

Henri Legrande: What the hell is it?

Owen: I ve just had a call from Abu. Only it appears he s really Ali Selim.

Kelly: Come off it, Owen.

Owen pushed past them, went inside, and the door closed. Mystery piled on mystery here. Jean conquered an insane impulse to go knock on the door herself, turned, and jogged away.

In the sitting room, Kelly said, It can t be for real.

Oh yes it is, and he wants to speak to us. His mobile sounded. I think this is him now, and he put it on speaker. So what do you want? he demanded.

Listen to me carefully, said Selim. After the riot in Hyde Park, friends spirited me away, but Ferguson s gang tried to assassinate me and nearly succeeded. So now they are going to pay, and you re going to help me. Or else you re all going to see the inside of a British prison.

Henri laughed out loud. Why should we? You can t get us into trouble. We haven t done anything.

Is that so? Ali Selim said. Within a three-day period, Daniel Holley s Alfa was sabotaged and almost went into the Thames. And hired thugs waited outside the Gideon girl s home, followed her down the street, attacked her, and would have raped her if not for Holley and her willingness to use a weapon without hesitation.

There was a stunned silence, and Owen said lamely, Now, look here.

You told me none of these things. And we have still one more pearl in the oyster: the attempted car bombing in the driveway of the Gideon girl s house. And the reason you did not tell me about any of this was because they were all failures.

Henri said calmly, Okay, fair enough. How did you find out?

You and Kelly certainly talked about them enough.

Kelly s head shot up, and he looked around the room.

We ve been bugged, he said. In the shop.

But of course, all three of you were. Four, as we had to include Jean Talbot, you being in the habit of visiting her so frequently, Owen.

Damn you, Owen said bitterly.

The technicians must have been good, whoever it was, Henri said.

Oh, they are. A Muslim organization we call the Brotherhood. They cover all trades and professions. For example, if I wanted Mary s Bower accidentally burned to the ground this week, it would be done. I could take my pick of brothers who would shoot you in the back on the street. As for your friend Jean Talbot, Owen, I would advise her not to try to walk home in the dark from now on, not even in Mayfair.

The three men exchanged looks, and it was Owen who said, So what is it you want us to do this time?

Kidnap Sara Gideon. That s where the Seconal that one of my assets left in the glove compartment of your car comes in. One ampoule jabbed in the arm, and it s good night, Vienna, for eight hours.

But to what purpose? Henri demanded. What do we do with her?

You wrap her up carefully, so you can push her in one of those collapsible wheelchairs, drive to Frensham Aero Club, put her in one of Rashid Oil s jets, fly to Rubat, and deliver her to me at the Monsoon.

No way. Owen was shaking his head. This has gone far enough.

Henri patted him on the shoulder, trying to calm him. What will you do with the girl? he asked Ali Selim.

What do you care? You tried to drown her, left her in the hands of possible rapists, then attempted to car-bomb her.

I just want to know, Henri said.

You ve heard of the Gideon Bank? Well, she is the Gideon Bank. What would you suggest for ransom? Fifty million, one hundred million? And why stop there?

So you wouldn t kill her?

Don t be stupid. She s far too valuable.

Owen nodded. He s right, she is.

So that s it, then, Henri said. We ll do it.

Nobody asked me. I don t agree, Kelly said. I didn t sign up for this.

Don t worry, Henri said, I ll sort him. When do you want us to do this?

As soon as you can. Their plane must have landed by now. If she goes home to Highfield Court, she ll be on her own. Both the housekeeper and her grandfather are away.

But she could also be staying at the Dorchester with Holley.

That s your problem. I d advise grabbing her as soon as possible. No more failures. If so, it ll be your last one. And no funny business. Osama may be gone, but Al Qaeda is everywhere, particularly in London. Put a foot wrong and I ll know about it. There s nowhere to run, gentlemen.

Jack Kelly had the bar cupboard open and poured whiskey with a shaking hand. God damn him to hell, he said. He ll be the death of us.

He slopped more whiskey into his glass, and Henri took it from him and tossed the contents into the living-room fire. He shook Kelly hard.

Pull yourself together. What s done is done. There is only one way out of this mess, and that s to do as he says. Go and have a shower. You look terrible.

Kelly went out, and Owen said, A hell of a mess, but I don t see any choice for us except to play along.

Henri said, Would we really be able to just load her into a jet at Frensham?

Yes, it s a circus for the rich there. Talbot International uses it. It s where Kelly landed when he flew over. Security really is slack. Their motto is: You mustn t offend the rich. Even with a wheelchair, we ll be waved through.

As it happens, I ve got a very nice one in the stockroom, Henri said. Antique, of course. Will weaponry be a problem at the airfield?

Not for me. I ve never been checked, Owen said. Give me what s suitable in a bag, and I ll see it gets on board. Now I ll leave you to get on with it, and take a run down to Frensham to make sure the Learjet will be ready to go. At this hour of the morning, I can get there in forty minutes, so I ll be back in no time. I suggest you come with me now, and I ll give you this Seconal stuff while Jack s at his ablutions. But wait for me before you attempt anything.

Kelly will be all right, Henri said. A nervous touch, is all. I ll look after him.

They went out. It was suddenly very quiet, and then Kelly came in, stripped to the waist, took the whiskey bottle from the cupboard, poured a huge one, and drank it down.

Mother Mary, what am I going to do? he murmured, and went back upstairs, a very unhappy man indeed.

At Rosedene, Ferguson, Holley, and Sara sat in the reception lounge with the matron, drinking coffee, waiting for news of Harry Miller, who had been in the operating room for an hour.

He s been wounded before, I believe, Sara said.

I think this must be the fourth time, Ferguson said. Harry was supposed to be a Whitehall Warrior for many years, a deskman in the Intelligence Corps. The truth is he was involved very much with one of the execution squads that brought the IRA to its knees and led directly to the peace process.

Professor Charles Bellamy appeared at that moment in green scrubs, a mask hanging down from his neck, revealing his face. He looked a little weary, sat down, and accepted coffee gratefully from Maggie Duncan.

Everything okay, Charles? Ferguson asked.

Not really.

Sara said, I treated him first. My impression was that there was an exit wound.

True. But when I got there, I discovered bullet fragmentation. It wasn t immediately obvious.

It wasn t hollow point, I hope? Holley said.

No, not as bad as that, but similar. I ve removed all the detritus, but I really must say in my report that Harry Miller has taken the pitcher to the well too often. It s got to stop.

And the Prime Minister will see that report?

Of course.

Ferguson sighed. That s all I need. Can we see him?

Certainly not. He s dead to the world. Tomorrow, perhaps. He turned to Sara and smiled. You appear to have been through the mill again. You really must take care, Captain, accept what you are. There are limitations.

I m fine, she said. Any problems and you ll be the first to know.

He and Maggie went off, talking in low voices. Ferguson s Codex sounded. Ah, Roper, he said, and put it on speaker.

What about Harry? Roper asked.

It was more complicated than they d thought, but it s been taken care of.

Well, the Prime Minister will be relieved. Anyway, I ve just had a call from Harry Salter. Dora s back from Holland and confirms that the photo Claude Duval took is definitely the same man who asked her for Pernod the night Holley s Alfa was interfered with. I ve spoken to Claude, and now that it s a criminal matter, he s allowed to forward it to DGSE records in Paris. If there is a match, we should get it soon.

Many thanks, Giles, Holley called, and put an arm around Sara. Home, or we could go to the Dorchester.

Home, I think, she said. Check the mail, the answering machine, then I just want to go to bed.

Ferguson joined them. You must be incredibly tired, Sara. We must take better care of you. This recent affair just exploded out of all proportion.

Well, as we used to say in Afghanistan, General, hope for the best and prepare for the worst. Good night.

Jean Talbot, thinking things over, decided that the best way to solve the mystery of what she had seen at the shop in Shepherd Market was to act normally with Owen and see how he behaved. To that end, she left the house still and called him on her mobile as she walked along Curzon Street.

He answered, and she said, Hello, darling, are you up for a run in the park this morning?

Sorry, love, he said. I had some overseas problems come up last night. I ve had to come into the office at an unearthly hour.

That s a shame. I d hoped we could finalize which day we re leaving on the Rubat trip.

Actually, I m not too certain about that at the moment, he said. All of a sudden, a hell of a lot s happening.

Well, that s a disappointment, she said.

Any particular reason? She was still walking across to the Dorchester.

Oh, oil prices again. The Arab Spring, trouble in so many oil-producing countries. Al Qaeda causing mayhem all over the place since the demise of Osama. Look, we ll get round to it, but just now I m really pushed. I ll be in touch, but I ve got to go.

All of this was making her feel rather sorry for him. Then she turned into Park Lane just in time to see his Mercedes emerging from the underground garage of his apartment block. She dodged back out of sight as he joined the traffic and moved on.

She was surprised at how much it hurt her, the dishonesty. A kind of betrayal, really. She deserved better, and when she turned to walk back home, she had to fight to control hot, angry tears.

Henri Legrande and Kelly had arrived at Highfield Court to find the drive empty. They parked at the end of the street behind several vehicles that were already there.

What do you think? Kelly asked. Maybe she has gone to the Dorchester.

Before Henri could answer him, the Alfa turned into the drive. Holley and Sara got out. She looked surprisingly fresh after such a long trip, had changed on the plane, wore a khaki shirt and slacks and a well-cut bush jacket. The cropped red hair looked magnificent.

Kelly said, The whole thing is ridiculous.

Henri didn t bother replying, but leaned forward so he could catch what Sara was saying as she took the key from her shoulder bag. I ve never felt so tired. I think I ll sleep for a week.

Then I suggest you do just that, Holley said, and followed with her bag as she entered the house.

Do you think he ll stay? Kelly asked.

Who knows, Jack. We must wait and see.

In the hall, Holley said, Can I carry your bag up to your bedroom for you?

Just leave it there, love. She moved in close, slipped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. You re a really special man, Daniel Holley. I don t give a damn about you having twenty years on me, because I love you to bits and I don t care what anyone else thinks. She kissed him deeply for a few long and satisfying moments, then pushed him away. So say it say you love me.

I can t, he said. It wouldn t be true. Would I absolutely adore you do instead?

She reached up and rumpled his hair, a contented and tired smile on her face. Well, I suppose it will have to. I ll see you later.

She had the door open, reached up to kiss him again, giving Henri and Kelly a perfect view, then closed the door as Holley went down the steps, got into the Alfa, and drove away.

What do we do? Kelly demanded.

Wait, of course. Holley might come back, and Owen made it clear we don t try anything until he gets here. You go to that convenience store round the corner and get us some coffee, sandwiches, and newspapers. We may be in for a long wait.

Which Kelly did, also purchasing a half bottle of whiskey and having a good pull at it on the way back, while upstairs in her bedroom Sara Gideon kicked off her suede desert boots, fell on the bed, still in her clothes, and was instantly asleep.

Greg Slay had arrived back in good time, thanks to a lift in an RAF Hercules from Peshawar that was due to refuel at Hazar. He walked across the runway, whistling cheerfully, to the flat-roofed office and the two hangars that housed Slay Flying. There was a new Scorpion helicopter, a Beech Baron, and an old Cessna 310, and Feisal, the mechanic, was working on the port engine. He was a handsome thirtysomething Bedu of the Rashid tribe with one wife, whom he told Slay he truly loved, and a five-year-old son. When he d arrived from the Empty Quarter to try town life, it had become immediately apparent that he had a genius for anything mechanical. From cars and trucks, he had moved up to aircraft.

There was significant history between him and Slay. Earlier that year, Slay had taken Feisal with him on a contract job to fly an old Dakota from Bahrain to Hazar. Five miles out, the starboard engine had caught fire, and the undercarriage had collapsed during the emergency landing on the edge of the airfield.

Feisal, his seat buckled, his safety belt so twisted that he couldn t break free, had thought that his time had come, as the fire started and Slay left him. And then Slay had returned with the fire ax, hacked him free, and they d escaped together and just in time. It was a debt of honor to be paid when the opportunity arose, the Bedu way.

Happy to see you, sahib. We ve missed you, with the oil well coming in nicely at Gila. Hakim s been flying back and forth, sometimes at night, only stopping to refuel, and the other Scorpion s been standing there doing nothing.

Is Hakim up at Gila now?

That s right.

Well, here I am, back in the saddle and raring to get started. Where s the schedule list? What have you got for me?

Feisal consulted the notice board. Machine tool parts, grade-A priority and needed at Gila urgently.

I ll take care of that.

But they aren t here. They were off-loaded in Rubat yesterday.

So I drop in at Rubat. It s only another half hour on the journey. Give me the consignment bill and I m on my way.

The Scorpion was an excellent helicopter, good to fly, a fine performer, and it would be even better when it was fully paid for. He told himself this as he drifted across the outer fringes of the Empty Quarter, the greatest desert in the world, then swung toward the sea and the white buildings that were Rubat. The old military airfield was on the edge of town, and he swung in toward the cargo hangars and settled gently.

A police sergeant in khaki was sitting in a canvas chair, smoking a cigarette, a man Slay had met many times, so he simply waved and went to the foreman on duty, gave him the consignment bill, and stood watching as his goods were loaded.

He had reasonable Arabic, and used it when offering the man a cigarette, which was accepted. Not so busy. It must get boring for you, he said, offering a light.

In spite of the fact that Khazid had issued an order that any mention of the Hawker would be a serious breach of airport security, the foreman, who had dealt with Slay many times, answered instinctively.

Oh, one never knows what the day will bring us. For example, earlier we had a very beautiful jet plane land, gold in color. One of the mechanics, Achmed, told me it was called a Hawker.

So where is this marvel of the skies? Slay asked.

It did not stay. The chief of police drove out to meet it in a security van to speak to the pilots, but came back alone. It refueled and took off again.

To have seen such a thing must have been a wonder, Greg Slay told him. I must go now. The cargo you loaded is needed urgently at Gila.

Take care, the foreman said. I sense a wind coming, a sandstorm perhaps. May Allah guard you.

He always does, Greg said, and took off.

Fifteen minutes out into the desert, he called Giles Roper, who answered at once. Slay, my man, good to hear from you. Where are you?

Straight back to work. There s a lot of pressure due to a big oil strike. I ve just done a cargo pickup at Rubat airfield and heard something strange.

I m all ears.

A golden Hawker dropped in at Rubat earlier. The police chief drove out to greet it in a security van on his own, spoke to the pilots, then returned on his own, and the Hawker flew away after refueling.

Are you sure no one was in the back of the van?

No idea. I m just telling you what I ve heard.

Well, I ve got something strange for you. He told Slay about the Canadian patrol finding the burned-out Raptor at Herat with a corpse in it.

Curiouser and curiouser, Slay said. I haven t the slightest idea what it all means, but if I find out, you ll be the first to know. I must press on. I could be flying into a sandstorm.

The police sergeant at Rubat airfield noticed the lengthy conversation between the cargo foreman and Slay, after the gift of a cigarette, and questioned the man.

You seemed to be getting friendly with the Englishman from Hazar. Enjoying a smoke and a chat? What were you talking about?

Oh, the usual things. The comings and goings, the foreman said uneasily, wondering where this was headed. He s flying up to Gila to the new strike with urgent equipment. I warned him I thought a sandstorm was coming.

So the comings and goings did not include a mention of a certain golden jet plane landing here?

The foreman could have said no and left it at that, but such was his fear of Khazid, he went into denial at once and, in a garbled panic, put all the blame on Slay.

It was no doing of mine, but he did raise the matter. He said he d heard a mention of some such plane making a brief visit and asked me if anyone had got off.

And what did you say?

The truth, Sergeant, that nobody did. What else should I have said?

The sergeant nodded. Good man. Get back to work.

Ali Selim had been working on a speech at one end of the desk, Fatima at the other end working on accounts and taking phone calls on speaker so that he could listen if he wanted to.

Khazid finished his account of the incident involving Greg Slay at the airfield, and Fatima said to Ali Selim, I m sure this is nothing. We know about this man. He retired from the British Army Air Corps last year, bought the air taxi firm Ben Carver had been running in Hazar for years. His partner is one of our own people in Hazar, Hakim Asan.

Would you be surprised to know that he attacked me in Amira flying a Raptor helicopter, acting under Charles Ferguson s orders?

She looked bewildered. Are you certain it was the same man?

Get in touch with this partner of his and ask him where Slay has been for the past few days. I m going out for a cigarette.

He was standing at the rail when she joined him ten minutes later with two cups and a pot of coffee on a serving tray. She hung the tray up, poured and handed him a cup, and raised hers in a kind of salute.

He got a lift from a plane refueling at Hazar, to Peshawar, day before yesterday. Was dropped off from an RAF Hercules on a run from Peshawar to London, refueling at Hazar, no more than a couple or three hours ago. Is he a danger to your plans?

I don t know. It could be nothing. He returns to Hazar and goes about his business, flying to Rubat to pick up cargo for Gila, so it is only by chance that he is here not long after the Hawker landed. As far as he knows, I didn t get off and the plane had a legitimate reason to be here. You could argue that perhaps I was on board all the time, but that won t help people like Ferguson unless they know where the Hawker is going, and they don t.

He took a sip of coffee. On the other hand, I don t trust people who ask nosy questions. He turned to her.

Contact his partner, this Hakim, at Gila. Tell him Gregory Slay is a threat to Al Qaeda and must be disposed of at once. Is he reliable?

A dedicated jihadist.

Then tell him that Allah is great and he is privileged to have been given this task. You will not say my name. He smiled. I am not worthy of even being mentioned.

At your orders, master.

The wind was coming in forcefully from the desert beyond the town, stirring the sea into waves, the Monsoon pitching on its two great anchors, the one at the stern, the other forward. He stood there gripping the rail, looking out to sea, thinking of Slay flying in such weather. A good man, and there was much to admire in him, but this was war and he was on the wrong side.

Fatima appeared. It is taken care of. Hakim says he knows his duty.

Thank you, Fatima, he said calmly.

A sudden fierce gust dashed sand in his face, and she grabbed his arm with surprising strength. You will come in now. You could damage your eyes. Such behavior is foolishness when so many depend on you.

His smile was unlooked for and unexpected. Why, Fatima, you are quite right. I stand corrected.

He passed inside, and she closed the shutter.