He grabbed Steigmann and shoved the bearded man bodily through the opening in the wall cut by the laser. The residual heat seared his face as he followed Steigmann's dazed, stumbling figure into the darkness. The man fell to his knees. Durell yanked him up and shouted, "Keep going!" and urged him on. Their footsteps made soft, echoing slaps as they pressed ahead. They were in a vast, gloomy underground vault, perhaps a wine cellar once used by the Dancing Monks a thousand years ago. From behind them came shrill shouts of alarm.
Steigmann gasped: "I must go back for Lisl—"
"It's too late for that now. They'll kill us without mercy."
"But it is impossible to get out!"
"You just achieved the impossible with that laser ray. Now save your breath and keep going."
It was dark here, except for the dim light that came from the room they had escaped and a ray of sunshine far ahead and above them. Stout stone columns rose from the slab floor and flowered into ornate Byzantine capitals overhead. He could not see the ceiling. He pushed the bearded man ahead. Dust lifted around their feet—the residue of centuries. From behind came a shout of discovery and the patter of rapid steps. Durell moved at a diagonal to the opening, putting as many of the fat stone pillars between him and their pursuers as possible. Steigmann stumbled and fell again.
"Get up, if you ever want to see Lisl again!"
"It is no use—"
They went on. The cavernous cellar seemed endless. He headed for the opening in the opposite wall, blasted clear by the laser beam. It seemed high overhead as he approached, and he realized he had aimed the tube slightly upward. The tangent of the controlled beam had cut through the mountainside at an upward angle, and before he was halfway across the vault, he saw that the opening was too high to reach from the slab floor. He swore softly. The noise of pursuit raised loud echoes from the vaulted foof. He thought he heard Bellau's shrill German invectives, urging the murderous Dancers on, but he could not be sure. Was El-Raschid alive or dead from his burns? But there was no time to consider that now. He searched for another way out.
Stone steps against a dark, cold wall led upward to an arched gallery. Steigmann moved faster now, but not fast enough. Flashes of light from torches made an eerie pattern in the gloom behind them. The Dancers were scattering like a pack of hunting dogs on the scent. A shot rang out, but it was only a wild stab at the shadows. Then Durell and his unwilling companion reached the top of the stairs and plunged through an arcaded opening into a tunnel-like corridor. It led them to the right, then to the left, past a series of cubbyholes that must have been the sleeping cells of dedicated monks who had lived out their lives in this remote mountain fastness.
He had to slow down now. The darkness was thicker, gloomier, and he could not see the way ahead.
Steigmann breathed badly, with the wheezing, painful gasp that reflected his laboring heart.
"Stop. Bitte, I feel faint—"
"This way," Durell said.
He dragged the man around a corner of the stone corridor. Dim light glimmered ahead, but he could not see its source. It looked artificial, and it flickered erratically. Perhaps the Dancers were coming at them from both directions. If so, they were trapped.
His thoughts jumped ahead. If they were to be captured again, he could not let Steigmann be put back to work on the laser equipment. Above all else, that had to be stopped. The man's genius could not be returned to El-Raschid's unholy scheme. Which left only one alternative. If they were caught, he had to kill Steigmann, rather than let the Dancers use him again. There was no other way.
Perhaps Steigmann realized this. He looked at Durell with dawning horror in his round eyes as he recognized their desperate situation.
"Very well," he whispered suddenly. "I will help. We go this way, to the left. I was here yesterday. I recognize this place. We are near the old garden and pool, overhead. There are stone viaducts where water was collected into a cistern "
"Let's go."
Steigmann showed him a channel like a broad, hollow trough cut into the wall. It vanished through a two-foot hole nearby.
"Can you get up there?"
"Help me," the man whispered.
Steigmann was clumsy with fatigue. They made it none too soon. Durell shoved him up, then made him lie flat and they huddled in the dry water-course above the corridor as footsteps raced by. There came guttural shouts in Arabic as the Dancers passed and met another squad coming from the opposite direction. Yelps of anger and frustration sounded, then a crisp order. The footsteps scattered in other directions, and Durell raised his head cautiously. The hall was empty. But it was a death trap. He had to find another way out.
"Crawl up through the hole," he whispered.
"I do not know where it goes."
"Into the cistern, probably. Go on."
His guess was correct. There was a long drop, perhaps of ten feet, when they emerged from the hole above a vast pool of black water. The moist air struck him like a slap in the face with a wet towel, but it revived him and helped Steig-mann.
"How wide is it across?"
"I do not know."
"Can you swim?"
"I—I will try."
Durell lowered him by his arms and then let go. Steig-mann fell with a soft splash into the black cistern. He followed a moment later. He tried to swim silently—the water depth was too great to touch bottom—^but Steigmann paddled awkwardly, and the stone ceiling sent wet echoes back and forth through the black chamber. Durell had no idea where to go. But there had to be an intake as well as an outlet, and he swam ahead, trusting to luck. The darkness was not absolute. There seemed to be a yellowish mist ahead, but it was impossible to judge the distance. Then the mist brightened, when he had almost given up, and he caught a glimmer of what seemed to be sunlight slightly to the left and some hundred feet off. The light grew brighter as he urged Steigmann through the cold water. The doctor's teeth chattered.
"Hold on," Durell insisted. "Just a little farther."
"I c-cannot!"
"You must."
The light was tricky. It did not seem to come from the air, but from the water itself, a phosphorescence that now made a greenish glow from beneath the surface. He paused, treading water, and supported Steigmann's increasingly clumsy form. The radiance came from beneath his kicking feet. It was daylight, but it came from below! He could not understand it at first. Then he saw the mossy stone wall rise before him, some ten feet overhead to the dripping, vaulted ceiling of the great cistern. And he suddenly knew its source.
"Can you dive?" he asked Steigmann.
"I am not certain—"
"There's a hole in the wall down there. I don't know where it goes, but we must swim through it. There is no other way out."
He had almost spent himself, but the thing had to be done. There were crevices in the nearby wall, and he put Steig-mann's uncertain hands on them for a grip while he dived down to explore the source of light. He did not make it the first time. He came up, gasping, and saw that Steigmann was secure, and tried again. The rough stones scraped his back painfully. He took a few strokes, saw a much stronger luminosity directly overhead, the reflection of hot sunlight on the surface of the water, and came back again directly. It took three tries to get Steigmann through the hole in the cistern wall.
Then, with several powerful kicks that took the last of his strength, he shot up toward the daylight, towing the bearded man behind him.
For an instant, as his head came into the air, he was blinded by the brilliant sunlight. He could see nothing. He caught Steigmann and kept his head above water. The air was hot as he dragged in a great lungful with blessed relief.
Then, as his vision cleared, he saw a coping nearby and suddenly recalled the pond he had glimpsed when he first arrived atop Djebel Kif. It was near the camouflaged helicopter and the well he had noted standing in a desolate little garden among the ruins of the monastery walls.
He knew where he was, at last.
But as his vi
sion cleared in the bright sunshine, he saw a shape lean over the coping of the pond, dark against the hot sky, and an arm was uplifted to bring a blow down upon his head.
It was the girl, Alida—formerly known as Mademoiselle Zuzu.
Chapter Twenty-six
SHE dropped the bucket she had been swinging at him and it fell with a splash into the water. Her lovely face reflected surprise and bewilderment and fear, all at once. She gave a small cry, quickly stifled it, and shrank back as he extended a hand toward her from the water.
"Help Dr. Steigmann up."
"But—but where—?"
"Never mind. Just help us."
She reacted without thought, aiding Steigmann up out of the pool and over the coping, where he fell prone, gasping, his lips blue; his eyes stared with total exhaustion. Durell followed an instant later.
"What are you going to do with him?" the girl asked. She was bluntly hostile. "Are you going to kill him?"
She was sharper than he had thought. "Keep your voice down," he gasped.
"Are you?" she insisted.
"Not unless we're caught. And that's up to you."
"I can't help. They're hunting for you all over the ^lace." She was pale with fear. "Quick, come in here."
There were some scrubby oleanders and date palms growing in niches along the monastery walls, part of the camouflage that hid the small helicopter nearby. They scrambled into the shelter of the bushes, dragging Steigmann with them. Durell was not sure if the doctor had heard his quick exchange with Alida. But it couldn't be helped if he had. Alida had to be told the truth. If his judgment of her was correct, she might be persuaded to stay on his side.
She still wore the plain blue gown of servitude that denoted her punishment status in El-Raschid's strange world. Oddly, her figure seemed all the more provocative under the simple shift. But her eyes were as haunted as a wild animal's, darting here and there through the greenery in expectation of pursuit.
"Don't you want to get out of here?" Durell whispered.
"It cannot be done," she said at once.
"But you've been here for some time. Is the gateway the only way out?"
"It is always guarded with machine-gun crews."
'That's not my question. Is there another way?"
She shook her head, setting her long blonde hair to swinging, then bit her rich underlip. "I don't know how you got up here through the pond. Every way is guarded, and no one can escape from below. They're pretty sure of that up here, so they only watch for intruders from outside, not for anyone trying to get out. Do you understand?"
"Go on."
She pointed across the pond. "In the ruins over there, the wall is broken down, but the mountainside is too steep to climb down, I'm afraid."
"We'll have to try it," he decided.
She looked at Steigmann with doubt. "Taking him?"
"Yes, he comes with us."
"But he could not make it."
"Could you?"
"I think so, but I used to do mountain-climbing—"
"Then there's only one alternative to taking Steigmann along," he said flatly. "We can't leave him here to finish his work on the laser ray. It's scheduled to be used tonight."
She shuddered. "You can't kill him in cold blood. He's as innocent as the rest of us."
"Then we take him. Come on."
They had to wait while a squad of armed Dancers trotted across the sunlit compound. The helicopter tempted Durell, and he thought he could manage to fly it, having once taken a series of lessons. But it was a futile hope. By the time he removed the netting, the alarm would concentrate every killer in the place at this spot. As it was, they still had a chance, since the hunt was still being made in the labyrinth below.
But the girl hesitated. Her fear of the Dancers was still dominant. "No one's ever escaped from Djebel Kif before. They were all caught, and their punishments were—it was horrible."
"It can't be worse than staying here," Durell urged. "Let's go. It's clear now."
"One moment." Steigmann spoke quietly, and his eyes were clear and calm now. "I wish you to know, Herr Durell, that I concur in your decision. If we are recaptured, you must kill me. Otherwise, they will use Lisl to make me finish their work. But I cannot leave without Lisl. I cannot desert her."
"I'll come back for her as soon as you're safely away," Durell promised.
'That may be impossible. It must be done now."
There was no mistaking the adamant decision that Steigmann had made. Durell knew he could not push the man further. He looked at the girl. "Do you know where to find Lisl?"
"I think so."
"Could you get her up here?"
Alida hesitated. "I don't know. I could try."
"How long would it take?"
"Perhaps ten minutes. If there is confusion down there, the guard may be removed from the women's quarters."
"Do you have the freedom to walk about anywhere?"
"Normally, yes. But they may stop me now."
It had to be tried. Time was slipping by. He knew he could push Steigmann no further, and he had to admit being reluctant to leave Lisl in El-Raschid's hands, even at the risk of his assignment. There was always the last and ultimate resort; Steigmann knew the risk to himself, at Durell's hands, if capture seemed unavoidable. But the man's calm determination decided him.
"Go ahead, Alida. We'll meet you when you show up on the other side of the compound with Lisl."
"I can promise nothing. If I do not return, go through that archway over there, and on the other side you will see where the wall is broken. You can get down the mountainside from there."
Alida got up, carrying her water bucket. Her head was high, despite the obvious fear she felt. When she vanished through a ruined archway beyond the pond without incident, Durell settled down for the longest minutes he had ever known. He glimpsed two Dancers at the main entrance beyond the compound, and knew there were more at their machine guns, staring down the little goat path to the south; but their interest was turned outward, and not to the area behind them, as Alida had suggested.
They waited.
At any moment he expected an eruption of Dancers heading for their hiding place, which would indicate that Alida had either been caught or had betrayed them. The last possibility couldn't be ignored. He waited with mounting dread as time slid by and she did not reappear.
The sky was a clear, hot blue. The sun over their hiding place was enormous, its head like a crushing blow. A single vulture swept in slow circles just to the north of the peak. All else was empty of life. There was no alarm from the labyrinth below. The search had evidently turned downward rather than up here. But their luck couldn't last forever.
Where was the girl?
Why didn't she come back?
He sweated in their close confinement under the oleanders. Nothing had been heard from Simon and Ben-Haakim's tribesmen. Had El-Raschid wiped them out, after all? It could be a form of exquisite torture to break him down and end his resistance. He wondered how badly the Second Prophet had been burned by the heat that enflamed his robes. The man would be in an enormous rage, goaded by an egomaniacal fury for revenge, and there would be no mercy for them if Alida were caught.
Sunlight shimmered on the slabbed courtyard. He watched the entrance where Alida had vanished. No one appeared. Surely more than iSve minutes had gone by. Perhaps ten. She wasn't coming back. He did not look at Steigmann. Steigmann was gray with tension and fatigue. He knew the risks. Durell began to think of how he would kill the man. He would do it quickly, with mercy. But he had no weapons. It had to be done with his bare hands. . . .
Sweat blurred his vision and he moved with care to dash it from his eyes. When he looked up again, she was there.
At first, he thought she was alone.
Then he saw Lisl following, head bowed slightly, carrying a water bucket as Alida had done. Lisl's face was drawn; she, too, wore a blue smock, and her pale hair was tightly bound at the nape of her neck,
giving her a meek and virginal quality.
Steigmann breathed softly. "My daughter . . ."
"Hold it."
The two girls walked across the sunny compound and vanished into a dark archway beyond the pool. The guards at the main entrance did not stir; but then one of them, perhaps hearing their footsteps, turned his head and stared down from his machine-gun post, fifty yards away. He watched them out of sight, then returned to his vigil over the Sinai.
"All clear now," Durell murmured.
The dash across the sunlit area was the worst part of it. There was a panicky desire to stay hidden in the shrubs, to cower there indefinitely and pray they might last out the time until nightfall. But there was small chance they could avoid discovery until then. He had to go on.
They walked quietly, although Steigmann lurched in his haste. Durell held him back with a hand on his arm.
They made it without incident. When they passed through the arch where the girls had gone, the reaction made Steigmann slump to his knees. Lisl came from the shadows with a small, whispered cry and knelt beside her father.
"Can you forgive me? Can you? I've done all this to you ..."
"It will be all right," Steigmann gasped. "Herr Durell will make it fine, kleine. ..."
Durell wished he had the other's confidence. He looked at Alida, who gestured urgently. She said: "They begin to think down there that you managed to get by the elevator somehow. They will start up any moment..."
"Show me this place where we can get out."
Lisl helped her father to his feet. Between them, they hurried down a shadowy corridor, past a crumbly chantry, across a chapel whose roof had long fallen into dust, and then he saw where the stone blocks had fallen away from the buttress wall and the limitless sky and desert loomed beyond.
His hope almost failed him when he looked down the precipice they had to descend. It fell away from the foundation in a sheer drop to a ledge twenty feet below. From there, a slope of broken shale presented tricky footing for another hundred feet, then another ledge might lead them downward. But the first drop was impossible for Steigmann.
Assignment The Cairo Dancers Page 17
