A Hundred Thousand Dragons

by Dolores Gordon-Smith

  ‘She had a choice, Jack.’

  ‘Technically, yes. Really? I don’t know.’ He got up and walked to the window, staring sightlessly at the plane tree in the yard. ‘What’s the Assistant Commissioner going to do?’ he asked after a time.

  ‘He’s contacting the Transjordanian Police. We discussed what Von Erlangen was likely to do but I hadn’t realized the distances involved. I knew Petra was off the beaten track, but I hadn’t realized just how far it is from anywhere else. What’ll probably happen is that the police will try and nab Von Erlangen on his way back. He’s got to return to civilization and there are only so many places he can go. That way, as the Chief pointed out, the local police will recover the gold – if it’s there – and get him as well.’

  ‘He’ll escape,’ said Jack flatly. Rackham said nothing but shifted awkwardly. Jack swung round to face him. ‘You agree, don’t you? You know who we’re up against. It’s not dawned on anyone else yet. He knows Arabia, Bill. There’ll be a hundred and one ways he can vanish and we won’t be any the wiser.’ He took a deep breath. ‘There’s only one thing for it. I’m going to get him.’

  ‘What?’ Rackham looked thunderstruck.

  ‘I’m a reserve officer in the RAF,’ said Jack coolly. ‘I’ve a perfect right to arrest him. You agree, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do, you idiot, but you can’t charge off into the back of beyond. Apart from anything else, how will you get there? It takes twelve days or something like it to get to Port Said and that’s only the start. It’s over a week’s journey after that, as far as I can make out, and I don’t suppose there’s a fleet of buses waiting. It’ll take you forever to arrange transport and God knows how much it’ll cost. That’s why Von Erlangen needed Vaughan in the first place. He knew you couldn’t stroll out there. It’s a crazy idea, Jack.’

  ‘There are quicker ways to Port Said than sailing round the Bay of Biscay.’

  Rackham made an impatient gesture. ‘So what? You’ve still got to get across the Med and into the desert. By the time you turn up, he’ll have long gone.’

  ‘I’m not so sure. It’ll take him time, Bill, lots of time. He’ll have to organize a boat to Aquaba and transport from there, or some sort of convoy across the desert. With any luck, I’ll get there before him.’

  ‘But how?’ demanded Rackham.

  ‘Fly, of course. How else?’

  Rackham gaped at him. ‘For God’s sake, there aren’t any flights to Petra.’

  ‘I’ll buy a plane.’

  Rackham looked at him incredulously.

  ‘Why not?’ asked Jack. ‘There’s plenty of second-hand machines around. Only the other day one of the men at the club asked if I knew anyone who wants an old air-taxi. He’s asking eight hundred quid for it but I should be able to beat him down. That should do the job.’ His face was grim. ‘I’ve got to do this, Bill. You see that, don’t you? Don’t worry. I’m not going off the deep end. I’ll get all the correct documents and carnets and the rest of the paperwork I need.’

  ‘Never mind the ruddy paperwork. That’s the least of your problems. Say you do fly out there. What then?’

  ‘That,’ said Jack quietly, ‘is something I’ll decide when I arrive.’ His mouth curved into a humourless smile. ‘He won’t be expecting me, that’s for sure. And don’t worry, I won’t be working alone. I can call on RAF Kantara if need be, but I’m going and I’m going just as fast as I can. He shouldn’t have harmed Freya.’

  Arthur Stanton leaned contentedly over the balcony of his cabin, watching the last streaks of the setting sun dip into the Mediterranean. The deep blue of the sea looped round the dazzling white stonework of Valletta harbour made a stunning view. He turned his head and called into the cabin. ‘Come and look at the sunset, Isabelle. It’s marvellous.’

  ‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ said a muffled voice from behind the bathroom door.

  Arthur grinned and felt in his pocket for his pipe and matches. He had never been so happy. They had docked in the Grand Harbour, Malta, that morning and spent the day exploring the wide, steep streets and the cool cathedral of the old city. The nightmares that had plagued him since the war had been completely routed and now there was a trip ashore with dinner under the velvet-blue Mediterranean night to look forward to. And Isabelle . . . A deep contentment washed over him. Life was good, all good.

  Isabelle, dressed in crisp green and white linen, came out of the bathroom. A knock sounded on the cabin door. ‘It’ll be the steward,’ she said knowledgeably and went to open it. Arthur swung round as he heard her astonished gasp. ‘Jack!’

  Jack? And there, incredibly, was Jack. Arthur swallowed a mouthful of tobacco smoke the wrong way and nearly choked.

  ‘I’m sorry to butt in like this, but I saw the ships in the harbour as I flew over,’ said Jack bewilderingly, strolling into the cabin as if it were the most natural thing in the world. ‘I wondered if one was yours, and it was, so here I am.’

  ‘You’ll have to tell us a bit more than that,’ said Isabelle. She had her hand on his arm, as if reassuring herself he was real. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

  They sat down, listening intently as Jack told them. ‘Bill Rackham thought I was nuts,’ he concluded, ‘but I have to try. You see that, don’t you? I bought Skip Roscoe’s – you remember Skip, Isabelle? – old D.H.9. He used it as an air-taxi for a time. It’s not terribly fast but it’s sturdy enough.’ He gave a small smile. ‘He wanted eight hundred for it but I beat him down a bit.’

  ‘Eight hundred?’ repeated Isabelle in disbelief. ‘Jack, that must be all the money you’ve got.’

  He shrugged. ‘More or less. So what? If I manage to recover even some of the gold, the government ought to be grateful enough to cough up some of it.’

  ‘Never mind the government,’ said Arthur. ‘What about you? What do you plan to do next?’

  ‘I thought I’d spend the night here and push on to RAF Kantara in the morning. With any luck I’ll be in this lost city by tomorrow evening.’

  ‘What about the police, Jack?’ asked Arthur. ‘The local police, I mean. Do they know what you’re doing?’

  ‘They know,’ replied Jack. ‘They know because Bill told them. To be honest, I’d hoped they’d offer some assistance. That’s certainly what Bill wanted, but they weren’t pleased about me sticking my nose in. They can’t stop me, of course, as I’ve a perfect right to go wherever I please, but they’d rather handle the matter themselves. The gold’s the sticking point. If it really is there, they don’t want me collaring it.’ He laughed. ‘I don’t think they realize how much we’re talking about. It weighs a ton.’

  ‘A ton?’ asked Isabelle. ‘A ton of gold?’

  ‘Well, not a ton exactly, but a dickens of a lot. I worked out that one hundred thousand sovereigns weighs in at just over at one thousand, six hundred and five pounds. That’s over half a ton. I can’t stick that in my pocket.’

  Arthur chewed on his pipe stem for a little while. ‘You could stick some of it, though. I can see why they’re leery. It’s awkward. What about the RAF? Presumably, as you’re headed for Kantara, they’re involved.’

  ‘To some extent, yes,’ agreed Jack. ‘The CO is a bloke called Masterson. I don’t know him, but he’s a friend of Canning, whom I knew in France. Masterson’s offered refuelling, fitting and rigging facilities, but that’s as far as he can commit himself. He said he’d help as much as he can, so I’ll have to be content with that.’

  ‘I see,’ said Arthur. ‘So, not to put too fine a point on it, you could be tackling Von Erlangen on your own?’ There was a dead silence. Arthur waited for a few moments, apparently intent on the glowing tobacco in the bowl of his pipe. ‘What were you intending to do if you do find him?’

  ‘Arrest him, of course,’ said Jack quickly. Arthur raised his eyebrows quizzically. That answer had been too glib.

  Jack sensed his disbelief and hurried into speech. ‘What did you expect me to say? If the RAF are th
ere, well and good. If not, I’ll hold him prisoner until they arrive. I was going to talk to Masterson about it tomorrow.’

  ‘And if it comes to shooting? I mean, you are armed, aren’t you?’

  ‘Oh course I am,’ said Jack impatiently. ‘You don’t think I’d tackle a swine like that without a weapon, do you? I’m not setting out to murder him, Arthur. I’m going to give him the chance to come quietly. It won’t be my fault if he doesn’t.’

  ‘I thought that was the size of it,’ said Arthur quietly.

  Jack slumped. He looked, thought Isabelle with a sudden twist of fear, beaten already.

  ‘What the devil can I do? He’s bound to be carrying a gun and he won’t be squeamish about using it.’

  Arthur looked at him acutely. He’d seen that defeated look as well. ‘Which you will be. He’s a killer. You’re not. He’ll have you for toast, Jack.’

  Jack dropped his gaze. ‘I have to try.’

  Isabelle looked at her husband. ‘Arthur?’ she asked quietly.

  Arthur nodded in understanding. ‘Yes. Yes, I think we better had.’

  Isabelle turned to face her cousin. ‘We’re coming with you.’

  Jack’s chin came up. ‘Oh no, you’re not. That’s a stupid idea.’

  ‘There’s room in the aircraft for us, isn’t there? I mean, if it was an air-taxi, there must be.’

  ‘Yes, it’s got a cabin,’ he said absently. ‘That’s not a problem.’

  ‘Then why?’

  ‘It’s dangerous, Belle.’ He looked to Arthur for support. ‘Von Erlangen’s bad enough, but Vaughan could be there as well and there’ll be workmen, too.’

  ‘The workmen probably won’t want to get mixed up in violence,’ said Arthur. ‘After all, the authorities know where you’re going, so they’ll have to account for themselves if you don’t come back. And if, by any chance, it’s Von Erlangen who doesn’t come back . . . Well, you’ve still got a problem.’

  Jack shrugged.

  ‘It’s no use trying to dismiss it,’ said Arthur, leaning forward to add weight to his words. ‘Von Erlangen will get you unless you get him first. If there are three of us, it shortens the odds, wouldn’t you say? Say he does – I’m looking on the bright side here – come off worst. What then? The local police aren’t happy about you getting involved and they’ll probably take a fairly dim view if they’ve got a corpse on their hands. If we’re there, we can testify that you didn’t shoot him on sight. I don’t know, granted Von Erlangen’s record, if it would come to trial but you might find it difficult without our say-so to convince the police you acted in self-defence.’

  Isabelle laid her hand on Jack’s arm. ‘I don’t want you to go alone,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re right. It is dangerous.’

  Jack rested his chin on his hand. He should have anticipated Isabelle and Arthur’s reaction, but he hadn’t. He knew why he’d been so pleased when he’d spotted their ship in the harbour. In his heart of hearts he thought it was his last chance to say goodbye.

  Von Erlangen; his stomach twisted at the thought. It was more than an intelligent apprehension of danger – he was familiar with that – but a disabling, courage-sapping fear. He had to face the man or, deep down inside, be a coward forever. That had fuelled his flight to the East. Freya’s death was the spark that lit the fuse.

  He’d steeled himself to go it alone, but the presence of his friends would make it all so much easier. It was a seductive offer and he desperately wanted to say yes.

  ‘Let’s go and have dinner,’ he said eventually. ‘I want to think this one through.’

  The aircraft circled over the jumble of savagely sharp rocks. Twisting into the sun, their colours varying from nearly pure white to deep, angry red, the mountains were as uninviting as the surface of the moon.

  When Jack had gone to sleep the previous night, he had been certain he was going alone. He hadn’t reckoned on Arthur and Belle standing by the plane when he arrived at the airfield. He hadn’t reckoned, either, on how his spirits soared at their insistence. The ship would leave Malta without them and they would rejoin the tour in Egypt; everyone had been informed. All the practical details, which didn’t matter a tuppenny damn, had been taken care of.

  So they were on board and now, with those savage rocks beneath him, Jack wished he had had the resolve to send them away. He couldn’t even promise himself that the RAF would help. Masterson, the Commanding Officer, had taken note of their destination and promised what aid he could. It should, he said, be all right. Should and Could. Not Can and Will. It was all far too conditional for comfort.

  He fought with the controls to keep the D.H.9 steady in the heat-drenched air, as, nearly at stalling speed, he droned over the alien landscape. According to his compass readings they should be more or less over the city. There was about an hour of daylight left. If they couldn’t find the city in that time, he’d have to land in the desert and resume the search in the morning.

  A series of regular shadows set into the rocks caught his eye. Surely they were too uniform to be natural? He saw a perfect semicircle of steps cut out of the walls of the wadi below and a deep line of black snaking through the mountains to the desert beyond. The way in. As at Petra, the ancient masons had used the sheer slopes as their castle and a cleft in the rocks as their gateway. Compared to Petra, the site was tiny. There was nowhere to land inside the circle of rocks, so he banked and flew down the black line, the plane lurching as they flew into the barrier of colder air beyond the cliffs.

  Flying as low as he dared, he picked out a landing ground, rose, banked and coasted in. Unconsciously, he held his breath. The surface of shale and sand looked all right, but if it was soft, then the wheels would sink on landing, ripping off the undercarriage. Even if they got down safely, without the wheels, they would never take off again. Down . . . bump . . . slide . . . hard ground! Thank God. He taxied the aircraft to the shade of the cliffs and switched off the engine.

  As the propeller rumbled to a halt, Jack thankfully took off his flying helmet and rubbed his eyes, which were sore from the glare, took the cap off his canteen and had a much-needed drink. The heat, which had been tempered by the rush of air, struck him like a hammer blow. It must be about a hundred degrees out here and he knew it could get a great deal hotter. Stretching his weary shoulders, he swung himself out of the cockpit as the cabin door opened.

  ‘Did you see anything?’ he asked as Isabelle and Arthur jumped down on to the sand. ‘There’s a gorge that runs through the cliffs leading to the city.’

  Isabelle shook her head, feeling the skin on her face tighten. Automatically, she went to wipe her forehead, then realized there was nothing to wipe. The dry heat of the desert sucked up any moisture immediately. She gazed up at the towering cliffs looming over them. ‘Not a thing, Jack. It just looked like a range of mountains to me.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. It takes a bit of experience to spot things from the air.’

  ‘What now?’ asked Arthur.

  Jack glanced at the sky. ‘We haven’t got a lot of daylight left so we’d better make the most of it. The first thing to do is find the entrance to the gorge. If Von Erlangen’s arrived, I want to know about it.’

  Taking their rifles, they walked to where the gorge split the rocks. If they hadn’t flown over it, it would have been incredible to suppose it was anything more than a narrow fissure that would peter out within a few feet. ‘No one’s been here for a very long time,’ said Jack in satisfaction, examining the ground.

  ‘It’s too late to explore tonight, I suppose?’ asked Isabelle.

  ‘Far too late,’ said Jack. ‘I don’t want to be stranded in the gorge in the dark. Besides that, we’ve got work to do. The plane’s all right at the moment but if we have to leave her in the full sun tomorrow, it’ll play havoc with the fabric. I can rig up a shelter with a tarpaulin but let’s scout round and see if we can find some natural shade.’

  Clinging to the shade, they set off round the base of the
cliffs. Isabelle was silenced by the gaunt, wild beauty of the landscape. The desert, quivering in the heat, stretched away to the horizon in an endless expanse of reds, browns and yellows. Out there were more rocks and crags, their shapes made uncertain by the shifting air grilling in the sun. It seemed incredible that back home there were April showers and blustery winds and it was possible to feel cold.

  They walked for about ten minutes or so before they came to a cavernous overhang in the rock. ‘This is perfect,’ said Jack approvingly, stepping into the echoing space. ‘There’s plenty of room for the plane.’ He stopped sharply, then relaxed.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Arthur.

  Jack turned to him with a grin. ‘For a moment I thought there was a wild animal in here, a lynx or something.’ He pointed to the back of the cave where the rocks were streaked with faintly glowing yellowish-white bands. ‘It looked like a cat’s eyes, but it’s only light from the rocks. There must be an outcrop of natural phosphorus. It’s fairly common in the desert.’

  ‘I can see why you thought it was an animal,’ said Isabelle, coming cautiously into the cave. ‘I hadn’t thought of lynxes. What’s bothering me is the thought of scorpions. I hate big beetles and cockroaches and huge rustly things with too many legs, but scorpions are really loathsome.’

  ‘You’ve certainly got to watch out for them,’ said Jack. ‘However, if you’re careful to knock your shoes out before you put them on and don’t stick your hand into holes, it should be all right. It’s not only scorpions you’ve got to be wary of though, there are poisonous snakes and spiders, too. Don’t touch the rocks, Belle!’

  She turned with her hand outstretched. ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s probably all right, but phosphorus can give a nasty burn. There’s no point taking unnecessary risks.’

  She dropped her hand with a rueful grin. ‘I’m going to have the jumps if this keeps up. What with lynxes, scorpions, poisonous things and burning rocks, I’ll be a nervous wreck. Why don’t you taxi the plane here and we can make camp? We can get a fire going and have something to eat. I’m hungry.’