Flyaway

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

I got out from under the Range-Rover and looked about. A minor puzzlement which had been a fugitive at the back of my mind during that interesting conversation had been how they had got the Range-Rover into that courtyard. It couldn't be driven through Bilma, not through alleys four feet wide at the most. The puzzle was solved by the sight of a big pair of double doors, so I opened one and found myself on the edge of the town, clear the other side from the restaurant.

I did the three miles to Kalala at a jog-trot, my mind busy with the implications of what I had heard, the most interesting one being that Lash knew me — or of me — and he had been very surprised to hear that I was in Bilma. That, and a phrase that had been dropped a couple of times, made it almost certain that it had been Lash who had me beaten up in Kensington. I owed him something for that.

When I got back to the resting caravan Byrne was asleep but Billson was around. He said, 'Where have you been? Where did he take you?' He looked me up and down, examining my English tailoring. 'And why did you change? Byrne wouldn't tell me anything when he came back.'

If 'Byrne had decided to keep mum then so would I. Paul had been improving during the last few days, but if he knew what I had just found out he might blow his top. It was the final proof positive that someone wanted him dead and would go to any length to kill him. And expense was no object, so it seemed. Touring half a dozen men around the Sahara by road and air isn't the cheapest pastime in the world, especially if they're killers — guns for hire.

I said casually, 'I've just been wandering around Bilma to see what I could see.'

'Did you find the Range-Rover?'

'If it's there it must be hidden.' That was true enough.

'What about Kissack?' he said fretfully.

I remembered that Byrne and I had not said anything to Paul about meeting Kissack and Bailly in Agadez. I lied. 'I wouldn't know Kissack if I stood next to him. And he wouldn't know me. Relax, Paul; you're safe enough here.'

I went to the Toyota, got out my Tuareg gear, and changed, feeling the better for it. The clothing worn in any area has been refined over the years and is suited to the conditions. It made sense to wear Tuareg clothes and I no longer felt on my way to a fancy dress ball but, instead, cool and free.

That night, when Paul was asleep, I woke Byrne and told him my story. When I got to Lash's suggestion to Kissack about what he ought to have done about Bailly he said ironically, This Lash is a really nice guy.'

'He calls himself a realist,' I said, and carried on.

When I had finished he said, 'You did right well, Max; but you were goddamn lucky.'

'That's true enough,' I admitted. 'I made a mess of tackling Kissack from the start.'

'Luck runs both ways. Take Billson, now; he's lucky you followed him from England. He'd be dead otherwise, up in Koudia.'

I smiled. 'We're both of us lucky to have you along, Luke.'

He grunted. There's one thing I don't understand. You said something about a contract. What sort of contract?'

'You've been away from civilization too long. It's underworld jargon imported from the States. If you want a man killed you put out a contract on him on a fee contingency basis.'

'You call that civilization? Out here if a guy wants another man dead he does his own killing, like Konti.'

I smiled but this time it was a bit sour. 'It's called the division of labour.'

'Which brings us back to the big question,' said Byrne. 'Who would want Paul dead? And a bigger question, at least to my mind — who would want me dead?'

'I rather think I'm on the list now,' I said. 'I don't know, Luke; but a name that springs to mind is Sir Andrew McGovern.'

'A British sir!' Byrne said in astonishment.

'I haven't told you much about the English end of this,' I said. 'But now you've got yourself on Lash's list I think you ought to know.' So I told him what I knew, then said, 'I think Lash must have had me beaten up. All contracts aren't for killing. They wanted to discourage me.'

'And this guy McGovern?'

'Everything seems to lead back to him.' I ticked off points on my fingers. 'He employed Paul in the first place and saw that he's been grossly overpaid ever since. As soon as Paul had his brainstorm and disappeared McGovern pulled my firm out of security at the Whensley Group. He couldn't just do it for Franklin Engineering, you see — that would have looked fishy. He didn't want me looking too deeply into Paul and his affairs and that was the only way he could stop me. Then he tried to get Paul's sister out of the way before I could see her by sending her to Canada. That didn't work so he called off that plan and kept her in England. It was about that time when I was beaten up and warned off. Everything goes back to McGovern.'

'Okay,' said Byrne. 'Now tell me why. Why should a titled Britisher get into an uproar about an airplane that crashed in 1936?'

'I'm damned if I know. But Andrew McGovern is going to answer a lot of questions to my sati sfaction when I get back to London.'

'You'd better change that to if you get back to London,' said Byrne wryly. 'How old is McGovern?'

I hadn't thought of that..'I don't know. Maybe fifty-five — pushing sixty.'

'Let's take the top figure. If he's sixty now he'd be eighteen in 1936."

Or thirteen on the lower figure. I said, 'This makes less and less sense. How could a teenager be involved?'

Byrne moved his hand in a dismissive gesture. 'Let's stick to the present. Did you get a look at Lash?'

I shook my head. 'Only his feet. I was flat on my belly under that Range-Rover. I didn't see any of the others, either; except Kissack, of course, and his Arab friend.'

'But there are now five of them?' I nodded, and he said, 'Must have come in on the airplane that's taking Bailly back to Agadez. And Lash's plan now is to do nothing until we find that airplane?'

'As of now it is. He could change his mind.'

That we'll have to risk. Now, we know what he's going to do, but he doesn't know we know, so that gives us an edge. He wants to help us along until we locate that airplane. Okay, that's fine with me and I propose to let him help, and to do that he'll have to show himself.'

'Maybe. Perhaps he'll be master-minding in the background.'

'I don't think so,' said Byrne. 'He won't use Kissack because he knows I've seen Kissack, and Kissack knows I tried to screw him so Lash knows it too. And from what you tell me, the other guys along with him are hired muscle from Algiers.'

'Or hired guns,' I said glumly. 'Could you recognize him by voice?'

'I think so, unless he's smart enough to change it.'

'Good enough.' I couldn't see Byrne in the darkness but there was a smile in his voice. 'You know, Max; if these guys follow us and help us on our way I wouldn't be surprised if they got in real trouble. The desert can be a dangerous place, especially when it has help.' I said, 'How much of this do we tell Paul?'

'Are you out of your mind?' he said. 'We don't tell him a goddamn thing. He's just along for the ride.'

We left early next morning with Konti still with us. 'We'll take him as far as Djado,' said Byrne. 'Then he'll head east, back home to the Tibesti.'

We drove openly around Bilma and past the fort. I didn't see Kissack or anyone who might be Lash. Then we took the track due north, skirting the ramparts of the Kaouar mountains, sheer cliffs for mile after mile. Just after leaving Bilma Byrne said, 'About forty kilometres ahead there's the military post at Dirkou; I'll have to stop there for gas. But not you — they'd want to see your papers and you got none. So I'll park you just outside with Konti. He don't like soldiers, either.'

When we came into sight of distant palm groves he stopped and pointed. 'Head that way as straight as you can. That'll bring you to the road the other side of the post but out of sight. Wait for me there.'

Konti and I got out. Byrne was about to start off again but he paused. 'You got a spare bottle of whisky?'

'In my bag in the back. Why?'

'There's a guy in Dirkou who likes his booze. A sweetener makes life run easier around Dirkou.' He drove off.

Konti and I set off across the desert which, thank God, was flat thereabouts. Presently I stooped and picked up something. Byrne had been right — there were sea-shells in the desert near Bilma.

After about half an hour's trudge we reached the track and waited, being careful to- stand behind a convenient rock and not in plain sight. Soon we heard the grind of gear-changing and I looked out to see the Toyota approaching, so we stepped out and Byrne stopped just long enough for us to climb in.

He jerked his thumb back to Dirkou. 'Would you say Lash is a big man?'

'His feet were middling size.'

'There's a Britisher back there. Came in twenty minutes behind me.'

'Don't tell me,' I said. 'In a Range-Rover.'

'No; in an old truck nearly as beat-up as mine. He's pretty tall, pretty broad, dark hair.'

'Anyone with him?'

'Two guys. From the way they spoke Arabic together I'd say they're from the Maghreb — Algiers, most likely. The Britisher don't speak Arabic, he talks to them in French which they don't understand too good.'

'It fits,' I said.

They'll be more than twenty minutes behind us when they leave Dirkou,' said Byrne with a grin. 'I had a talk with the guy who likes his booze. Right now he's turning them inside out and the English feller is swearing fit to bust a gut. Won't do him no good, though. Seems that whisky has its uses.'

That might be useful,' I said thoughtfully. 'If your whisky drinker is turning them over that thoroughly he might find guns. He wouldn't like that, would he?'

That passed through my mind,' agreed Byrne cheerfully. 'Let us not smooth the way of the transgressor.' He laughed at my expression. 'Lots of good things in the Bible.'

From the seat behind me Billson said, 'What are you talking about? Who was that man back there?'

'Just a guy,' said Byrne. 'Maybe nothing to do with Kissack but I like to play safe.'

I said, 'Don't worry about it, Paul.'

The track was bad and got steadily worse. Every so often we would pass a village with the inevitable grove of date palms. There was evidently water under the tall cliffs of the Kaouar mountains. But the villagers hadn't tried to make life easier for themselves by maintaining the track.

We travelled steadily all day and not only the track deteriorated but so did the weather. A wind arose, lifting the sand in a haze which dimmed the sun, and dust filtered everywhere in the truck. It was then that I found the true efficacy of the Tuareg veil and pulled it closer about my face.

Disaster struck in the late afternoon. There was a grinding noise from somewhere at the back of the Toyota and we came to a shuddering halt in soft sand. Byrne said, 'Goddamn it! That's something wrong with the transmission.'

So we got out to look at the damage. The rear wheels were sunk nearly to the axle in the fine sand and I could see it was going to be a devil of a job to get out even if there was nothing wrong with the transmission. And if the transmission had gone we could be stuck there forever. Byrne didn't seem too worried; he merely dug out two jacks from the back of the truck and laid them on the sand. 'Here's where the hard work starts,' he remarked. 'We'll need the sand ladders from up top.'

Paul and I got down the sand ladders. Byrne regarded Paul thoughtfully. 'Would you do me a favour?'

'Of course. What is it?'

'Go to the top of that rise back there and keep your eyes open. If you see anyone coming let us know fast.'

Paul looked at Konti. 'What about him?'

'I need him,' said Byrne briefly.

'Oh! All right.' Paul started off back down the track.

Byrne laughed shortly. 'Paul will keep a better look-out than any of us. He seems to value his skin more.'

'I don't know,' I said. 'I'm pretty attached to mine.'

An hour later we knew the worst, and it was bad. The differential gears are pretty near all stripped,' said Byrne. 'No wonder it sounded like my old man's coffee-grinder back' home in Bar Harbor. It never could grind coffee worth a damn.'

I regarded the jacked-up Toyota gloomily. 'What do we do? Walk?'

'There's a place called Seguedine a piece up the road — maybe ten kilometres. Not that there's much there, but maybe we could use a team of camels to haul us out.'

'And then what? The differential's busted. There wouldn't be a service station in Seguedine?'

Byrne laughed. 'Not likely. But I've got a spare differential in the back of the truck. The bastards are always stripping so I've made it a habit to keep a spare. But I'd like to get in cover before replacing it. It's going to blow a son of a bitch tonight and this damned sand gets in everywhere. Not good for differentials.'

'Well, who goes? I can't speak the language.'

Byrne grinned. 'I sent Konti on ahead half an hour ago. I was pretty sure of what I'd find.'

I looked around and, sure enough, Konti was missing. But Billson was running towards us at full tilt. 'Someone's coming!' he yelled. They'll be here in five minutes or less.'

He skidded to a halt in front of us. 'Any idea who it is?' asked Byrne calmly.

'It looked like the truck we saw in Dirkou.'

Byrne's right arm disappeared inside his gandoura and when it reappeared he was holding a fistful of gun. He worked the action and set the safety-catch, then put it away again. Paul watched him wide-eyed. 'Go and sit in the front seat, Paul,' said Byrne.

Billson scurried around the truck and I saw to my own pistol. Byrne said, 'If this is Lash we'll pretty soon find out how genuinely he wants to help. Keep your veil up and your mouth shut.' He stooped and put an oil-can upright on the ground. 'If you recognize his voice kick that over, accidental like.'

We waited, the hot desert wind driving at us and nicking grains of sand into our faces. It was as much to protect my face as to hide it when I drew up and tightened the veil in the way Byrne had shown me. Then I stood with my arm inside my gandoura hanging straight down with the pistol in my hand; it couldn't be seen and I would waste no time in drawing it from the holster.

The truck came over the rise two hundred yards away, travelling fast and trailing a long plume of dust which was blown to one side by the wind. As it approached it slowed, and then drew to a halt abreast of us. The driver was obviously not a European but the man who got out of the front passenger seat was. He was as Byrne had described him, fairly big and with dark hair. His eyes flickered towards Byrne and me, then he looked at Paul in the front seat and said, 'Are you in trouble? Perhaps I can help.'

I didn't hear what Paul answered because I took half a pace to one side and knocked over the oil-can with a metallic clatter. Byrne raised his voice. 'Yeah, you can say we're in trouble. Lousy differential's bust.'

Lash turned his head and stared at Byrne, then came to the back of the truck. 'You are American?' He filled his voice with well-simulated incredulity. 'We get around.'

'You don't look like one,' said Lash in an amused tone. He nodded at me. 'I suppose he's American, too.'

'Nope,' said Byrne. 'He's British like you.'

Lash raised his eyebrows but said nothing. I suppose Byrne had done the right thing. Lash knew I was around and there was no point in me hiding; and it would be difficult to maintain the deception unless I pretended I was deaf and dumb.

He stooped and looked under the Toyota, then said, 'Yes, I'd say you're in trouble.' He straightened. 'By the way, my name is Lash — John Lash.'

'I'm Luke Byrne. This here is Max Stafford and the feller up front is Paul Billson.' I was afraid that Lash would offer to shake hands which would have been difficult with me holding the pistol, but he merely nodded. Byrne said, 'The differential don't matter — I have a spare; but I'd sure appreciate a tow out of this sand and a few kilometres up the road.'

'That shouldn't be too difficult,' said Lash, and turned away and began to talk to the men in his truck. From the intonation he was speaking French although I didn't get the words. I noted he did not introduce them.

Byrne took his right arm from his gandoura and his hand was empty. If he was willing to take a chance then so was I, so I unobtrusively bolstered the pistol and did the same. He said, 'We'll put in the sand ladders before we let the jacks down; it'll be easier with them.'

Lash's two companions got out of their truck. I walked to the cab of the Toyota. Paul said in a low voice, 'That's the man who was at Dirkou.'

'So?'

'So wasn't Byrne suspicious of him?'

'Hell!' I said. 'He's just a Good Samaritan come to get us out of trouble. Don't be paranoiac, Paul. Get out and help.'

We put the sand ladders under the rear wheels, then let the Toyota down to them and took away the jacks. Lash didn't have a towing chain but Byrne did, and we were ready to go within ten minutes. It was then I noticed that one of Lash's men had disappeared.

Lash and the other man got into their truck and the engine fired.. In a low voice I said to Byrne, 'Where's the other thug?'

'Gone back over the rise — and I know why.'

'Why, for God's sake?'

'It ain't because he's shy of exposing himself,' Byrne said sardonically. 'My guess he's gone back to flag down Kissack and stop him. The Range-Rover won't be far behind.'

It made sense. Lash wouldn't want us to see Kissack. I said, 'One thing — don't talk about Lash while we're being towed or you'll spook Paul.'

'I'll watch it.' He raised his voice. 'Paul, you stand on this side and Max on the other. If you think we're getting deeper into trouble, then yell' He got behind the wheel and waved at Lash, who revved his engine.

There was no trouble. Lash's truck was more powerful than it looked and pulled us out of the sand easily, though what it did to one of the sand ladders was indescribable. Byrne threw away that twisted bit of junk as being unusable and we collected the few tools that were lying around. As we did so, the missing man came walking at a smart pace up the road. He saw us looking at him and zipped up the fly of his trousers. Byrne looked at me and grinned faintly.

So the man who was going to kill us towed us into Seguedine, which wasn't much of a place, but there was a ruin with three standing walls and a decrepit roof which was enough to shelter the Toyota from the wind. Lash helped us push it in. 'Mind if I stay the night here with you?' he asked. 'Perhaps I could help you strip the transmission.'

'No call for that,' said Byrne. 'I can manage.'

Lash smiled. 'And I don't feel like driving on in a sandstorm. A man could lose his way. I have a feeling that could be bad.'

'Sure could,' Byrne agreed. 'You could get dead. You want to stay, you stay. It's a free country. Thanks for your help, Mr Lash; you got us out of a nasty hole, but there's no call for you to get your hands dirty.'

But Lash helped us anyway. I suppose he thought it in his own interest to put us on our way as fast as possible. His henchmen disappeared, probably to tell Kissack what was happening. Lash wasn't all that much of a help, though, and his aid was confined to handing over tools when asked, as indeed was mine. Byrne could have done the job quite handily himself and, for a man who professed hatred of 'stinkpots' he was American enough to understand them well.

Paul came and went restlessly. Once, in Lash's absence, Byrne said to him enthusiastically, 'Lash is a real nice guy, don't you think? Him getting us out of the sand and helping us like this and all.'

I said, 'Yes; a Good Samaritan, Paul.' I looked over Byrne's' shoulder and saw Lash come slowly out of the shadows, and wondered if Byrne had known that Lash was behind him, listening. Probably he had known; there were no flies on Luke Byrne.

We finished the job in the glare of a pressure lantern after nightfall, then cleaned up and prepared a meal just as Konti showed up. Byrne talked to him for a moment then said to me, 'He walked as far as here, found no one, so he went up the track a long ways with no success. Walking fools, these Teda.'

Lash contributed a bottle of whisky for after-dinner drinks. I accepted a tot, and so did Paul, but Byrne refused politely. 'Where are your friends, Mr Lash?'

Lash raised his eyebrows. 'Friends? Oh, you mean… They're just showing me around. Professional guides.' I glanced at Byrne who didn't bat an eyelid at that preposterous statement. 'They prefer to eat their own food.' Lash looked around in the darkness. 'What is this place?'

'Seguedine? Used to be people here — three or four families of Kanuri. Must have moved out since I was here last. The Tassili Tuareg come from the north when the feed gives out there. Where are you heading?'

Lash shrugged. 'Nowhere in particular. Just looking around.' That was supposed to give him an excuse for popping up out of nowhere at any time and occasioning no surprise, but it was a stupid thing to say. Even a tyro like myself had observed that desert crossings were most carefully prepared with times and distances collated and fuel and water carefully metered. No one in his right mind would flutter hither and yon like a carefree butterfly. To risk running out of fuel or water was dangerous.

Lash sipped his whisky. 'And you?'

'Pretty much the same,' said Byrne uninformatively.

I would have thought Lash might have pursued the subject of our further travels, but he didn't. He made desultory conversation, telling us he was the managing director of a firm in Birmingham which specialized in packaging and that this was the first real holiday he'd had in seven years. 'I decided to do something different,' he said.

He tried to draw me out on what I did in England so I told him the truth because he knew all about me anyway and to lie would arouse his suspicions. 'Recuperating from an illness,' I said, then added, 'And getting over a divorce.' Both statements were true; he'd probably been the cause of the 'illness' and the bit about Gloria could confuse him by its truth. The truth can be a better weapon than lies.

After a while he excused himself, after getting nowhere with Billson, and went to his truck where he bedded down. Soon thereafter Konti came out of the darkness and spoke to Byrne, who questioned him closely. Paul said to me, 'Inquisitive, isn't he?'

'Not abnormally so. Chit-chat between ships that pass in the night.'

'I don't like him.' Paul pulled his djellaba closer about him. 'I don't think he's what he says he is.' I knew it, but Paul was showing an acuity which surprised me. Perhaps it was the sixth sense of the hunted animal.

A few minutes later, out of Paul's hearing, Byrne said, 'Kissack is camped about a mile from here. I sent Konti to scout him out.' He chuckled. 'I don't think Kissack will be comfortable out there. The wind's still rising.'

'Do we stand watches?'

Byrne shook his head. 'Konti will watch all night'

'Bit hard on him, isn't it?'

'Hell, no! He'll sleep in the Toyota tomorrow. For a Teda to sleep while on the move is sheer unaccustomed luxury.'

Next morning the storm had blown itself out and Lash had gone together with his truck. 'Went just before dawn,' said Byrne. 'Sudden guys, these friends of yours. Kissack shoots folks without saying a word and Lash goes, just like that. Un-neighbourly, I call it.'

'So what now?'

'On to Chirfa and Djanet.'

Chirfa was nearly a hundred and fifty kilometres north of Seguedine and consisted of a Tuareg camp and one deserted Foreign Legion fortress which might have stood in for Fort Zinderneuf in Beau Geste but for one thing — there was an anchor carved above the main gate. Because we were about as far away from the sea as a human being can get on this planet I stared at this improbable emblem and asked Byrne about it.

'I wouldn't know. Maybe it was built by French marines.'

The Tuareg seemed different from those I had met before, being more shabbily dressed. Byrne said they were of the Tassili Tuareg. From them he bought a donkey, which he gave to Konti. 'This is where he leaves us,' he said. 'He'll go east, past Djado and on to the Tibesti.'

'How far to the Tibesti?'

'Maybe five hundred kilometres; it's over in Chad.'

'Walking all the way?'

'Yeah. But the donkey'll help.'

'My God!' I watched Konti walk out of sight, towing the donkey.

As he walked back to where the Toyota was parked Byrne said, 'We've been followed most of the way here, but I lost sight of them about an hour ago. Two trucks.'

'Lash and Kissack.'

'I guess so. Wish I hadn't lost them; they're a couple of guys I like to keep my eye on.'