Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Spy

Chapter Twenty-four

The still desert night was shattered by the ugly screams of Mrs Bekuv. She fought her way through the Arabs who were lounging in the doorway at the bottom of the stairs. The violent flaying arms knocked one of the boys off balance and gave another a bloody nose. They had scarcely delayed her as she ran, hysterical and screaming, across the dimly lit compound to the big radio telescopes. The great dish shapes were only faintly discernible in the light of a waning moon and a thousand stars. Only when Mrs Bekuv reached the place where her husband was standing did her garbled cries become comprehensible. It was Russian. I could pick out a few phrases here and there: 'The girl is dead'…'… who would have done it if not you…? Who can I tell, who can I tell?… I hate you… why did she have to die?… If only it had been me…' many of them were repeated in that grief-stricken litany with which humans numb their minds to anguish.

'It wasn't me and it wasn't any of the Arabs,' said Bekuv, but his voice did nothing to calm her and soon he began to contract the very hysteria that he was trying to cure.

He shouted and slapped her across the face — very hard, the way they do it in old Hollywood finis — but it only made her worse. She was struggling now, hitting, punching and kicking him, so that he had to hold her very close to restrain her. It was like trying to cage a wildcat. Half a dozen Arabs had come out to watch the struggle and four men at the controls of the dish — Russian technicians — stopped their work to see what was happening. But none of them did anything to part the couple.

I turned away from the window and looked at Red Bancroft. 'She's done you proud,' I said. 'No one could have asked for a better performance.'

'She loves me,' said Red Bancroft. Her voice was matter of fact.

'And you?'

'I don't love anyone,' she said. 'My analyst says I'm bisexual. He doesn't understand. I'm neuter.'

'You don't have to hate yourself,' I said. 'You've brought no harm to her.'

'No,' she said scornfully. 'I've taken her away from her husband, she'll never again see her grown-up son. If we all get out of this alive, she'll be a K.G.B. target for ever and ever. And what have I given her in return — nothing but a good time in bed and a lot of worthless promises.'

I looked down into the central yard. Two Arab guards were restraining Mrs Bekuv. She was still talking to her husband, but I could not hear the words. Red Bancroft came to the window and looked down too.

'She'll do it,' I said.

'Yes, she'll do it,' said Red Bancroft. 'She's incredibly clever with everyone — except with me.'

'What's the matter?' I said.

'I can't go down that rope. I'm frightened of heights… I get dizzy just looking down into this yard here.'

'I'll tie it round you, and lower you down. Keep your eyes closed and you'll be all right.'

'Will he come up here looking for the corpse?' she asked.

'Perhaps — but not until he's finished his transmission. And that will take hours.'

She went to the other window and looked down at the sand far below. Dempsey and Mann had left already but they were not to be seen. 'And the sentries?'

'Stop worrying,' I said. I went across to her and put my arm round her waist. It was no more than a brotherly gesture, and she did not shrink away from me as she had done earlier.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'We both lost out — but now I'm beginning to think maybe I lost more than you did.'

'Let's get the rope round you,' I said. 'It won't get any darker than this.'

The night air was cool but underfoot the sand was warm, and soft enough to make progress slow and difficult. Even with the stars to guide, we lost our way after the moon disappeared. The sandhills, like some great rolling ocean transfixed for ever, shone in the dusty starlight.

There was no sound; it must have been flying very high. There was a flash like that of an electrical storm, and a rumble like thunder. Anywhere else and we would have written it off as a thunderstorm, put up our umbrellas and waited for the rain. But this was a thousand miles deep into the Sahara.

'Smart bomb,' said Mann. 'You put a laser beam from aircraft to target and let the bomb slide down the beam.'

'Unless you can persuade the target to put up a beam for you,' I said.

Red Bancroft said nothing. Ever since we'd caught up with Mann and Dempsey she'd been walking a few paces behind us. Several times I saw her turning round hoping to see Mrs Bekuv there.

The sound of the explosion rumbled across the empty desert, and then came rolling back again, looking for a place to fade away. I waited for Red Bancroft to catch up. She had discarded her shoes. I put my arm out, offering to help her, but without a word she limped past me, sliding sometimes in the soft steep dune. After the explosion she didn't look back again.