by Wilbur Smith
‘Tippoo Tip! That is the same name as the steward that got on board the Dolphin. But who is this sheikh?’ Hazel demanded, and Uthmann answered her.
‘He is a warlord, and the head of one of the most powerful clans in Puntland.’
Hector touched his shoulder. ‘As always, you have proved your worth, old friend,’ he told him.
‘Wait! I have more to tell you.’ Uthmann shook his head sadly. ‘Do you remember the men you shot and killed in Baghdad many years ago?’
Hector nodded. ‘The three jihadists that had detonated the roadside bomb.’ He glanced sideways at Tariq. ‘Of course Tariq and I remember them.’
‘Do you know what their names were?’
‘No,’ Hector admitted, ‘apparently they were all using code names. Even Military Intelligence could not identify them. What have you discovered, Uthmann?’
‘The man you killed was named Saladin Gamel Tippoo Tip. He was the son of Sheikh Khan Tippoo Tip and the father of Adam Tippoo Tip. The sheikh declared a blood feud with you.’ Hector stared at him speechlessly, and Uthmann went on, ‘The dhow that you and Ronnie Wells destroyed had six men on board. They had been sent by Sheikh Khan to avenge his eldest son. Amongst those who died was Gafour Tippoo Tip, the sheikh’s fifth son. The blood debt then stood at two. The Sheikh sent a third son to find you and avenge his brothers—’
‘The one called Anwar!’ Hector exclaimed. ‘My God! I will never forget him. With his last breath he mocked me: My name is Anwar. Remember it, Cross, you pig of the great pig. The debt has not been settled. The Blood Feud continues. Others will come.’
Tariq nodded. ‘It is even as you say, Hector.’
‘Where can we find this creature, Sheikh Tippoo Tip?’ Hector demanded.
Tariq cut in sharply. ‘I know him. His stronghold is in Puntland.’
‘Puntland! That name keeps cropping up,’ Hazel interjected.
‘It’s a rebel province of Somalia. Puntland is Tariq’s home turf,’ Hector explained, and looked back at Tariq. ‘This is what we’ve been waiting for. What can you tell us about this thug?’
‘Only what everybody else in Puntland knows: Tippoo Tip has his stronghold in the north-western part of the country at a place called the Oasis of the Miracle. It’s south of the main road in the province, near the small village of Ameera.’
‘Do you know the area?’ Hector demanded, but Tariq shook his head. Hector knew him so well that he had no doubt that he was lying, or at least skirting the truth.
‘Okay.’ Hector needed no further confirmation. ‘We need to find out all we can about Tippoo Tip and his fortress. We need maps of the area. I must get back to the terminal and get everybody working on this.’
When they were all assembled around the long table again Hector looked them over, before he spoke.
‘Well, we now know where we are going. Does anybody here, apart from Tariq, know of a place in Puntland called the Oasis of the Miracle, or the village of Ameera? Those are our targets.’ They all looked mystified. Hector singled out Dave Imbiss.
‘Dave, can you get on to the website of Google Earth. Tariq will point out the targets on the map. I want copies of the satellite photographs of the area. I want to know the distance to fly. I want to know which is the closest airstrip in Ethiopia, and the distance by road from there to our target.’ Then he paused and looked across at Bernie and Nella. ‘Or do you two have any ideas on that? Do you know of a landing strip which fits the bill?’
‘Jig Jig!’ said Nella, and then screamed with laughter and gave Bernie a nudge in his ribs with her elbow that doubled him over.
‘A landing ground with a name like that?’ Hector raised an eyebrow. ‘Interesting!’
‘Nella gave it that name, not me,’ Bernie protested as he straightened up rubbing his ribs. ‘I don’t know what its real name is, probably doesn’t have one. It’s an old deserted Italian military strip from World War Two. It’s in shocking condition, but the Hercules doesn’t mind rough ground.’
‘We made an emergency landing there once.’ Nella was still bubbling with laughter. ‘I was taken short with an acute case of the hots and we landed there for Bernie to bonk me. It was terrific! One of his very best efforts, ever. Never forget it.’ Bernie maintained his sober mien despite the hoots of laughter and general levity.
‘It’s perfectly situated, less than thirty miles from the Puntland border but, best of all, there is no official presence, no police and no immigration,’ Bernie said.
‘Sounds as though it was made for us. Show Dave where it is on the map. Nella, do you think you can restrain yourself when you land there again? No more indiscriminate bonking!’ He turned to Paddy. ‘Paddy, get on the radio to Ronnie Wells and tell him to move his MTB across to the Puntland coast and find a safe anchorage as close to the target as he can get. Let us know when he gets there.’ All the time he was giving his orders he was aware that Tariq was watching him covertly. At last he glanced at him directly and Tariq jerked his head almost imperceptibly and then stood up and left the room. Hector gave him a minute, and then he said to Paddy O’Quinn, ‘Carry on here. I won’t be away too long.’
He went out to search for Tariq and after a few minutes spotted him behind one of the parked trucks. He was smoking a cigarette in blithe contempt of the no smoking sign on the side of the truck. When he saw Hector approaching he ground out the cigarette under his heel and walked off along the pipeline. Hector followed him, and found him squatting behind one of the pump stations.
‘Speak to me, oh beloved of the Prophet,’ Hector invited as he squatted beside him.
‘I could not speak in front of the others,’ Tariq explained.
‘Not even Uthmann?’
Tariq shrugged. ‘Did it not seem to you that Uthmann was able to gather a great deal of information about the Tippoo Tip clan by simply eavesdropping on his brother’s telephone? It’s the safety of my family I fear for, Effendi. I can take no chances.’
‘There is truth in what you say, Tariq.’ Hector nodded thoughtfully. Despite his deep affection for Uthmann he felt the worms of treachery stirring in his bowels.
Tariq drew a breath and then said, ‘My aunt married a man from the village of Ameera, very close to the Oasis of the Miracle. When I was a child I spent many months there every year. I herded the camels with my cousins. I saw the fortress of Tippoo Tip many times, but only from a distance. My aunt was a servant to the Khan in the fortress. But that was long ago and perhaps my aunt is dead by now.’
‘Then again, perhaps she is not dead. Perhaps she still works in the fortress. Perhaps she knows where they are keeping the girl. Perhaps she still loves you enough to show you how to get into the fortress and where to find the girl.’
‘Perhaps.’ Tariq grinned and stroked his beard. ‘Perhaps all those things.’
‘Perhaps you will visit your aunt and find out.’
‘Perhaps.’ Tariq nodded.
‘Perhaps you will go tonight. We will drop you from the Hercules close to Ameera. I will give you one of the satellite phones. You will call me as soon as you make contact with your family. And that is not perhaps.’
‘As always, to hear you is to obey you, Hector.’ Tariq nodded and his grin grew wider. Hector punched his shoulder and started to rise to his feet, but Tariq laid a hand on his arm.
‘Wait, I have something else to tell you.’ Hector squatted beside him again. ‘If we get the girl out of the fortress we will be hunted by many men. They will be in four-wheel-drive trucks. We will be on foot with the girl. She may be sick and weak after what they have done to her. We may have to carry her.’
‘Tell me what you suggest.’
‘To the north of the fortress there is a deep and rocky ravine. It runs for seventy miles east to west. We can cross it on foot, but even a four-wheel-drive vehicle will not be able to follow us. They will have to go around thirty or forty miles east to cross the wadi. Once we get across the wadi, it will give us a start of at least two or three
hours, if not much longer.’
‘You deserve to be rewarded with a hundred virgins!’ said Hector smiling.
‘I will be happy with one,’ said Tariq, returning his smile, ‘but a good one.’ Hector left him squatting in the shade of the pump house rolling himself another cigarette.
As Hector walked into the situation room Dave called across.
‘These are the Google Earth satellite pics of the area, boss.’ He tapped the sheets spread on the table in front of him. ‘The village of Ameera is tagged but I can’t find anything about the Oasis of the Miracle.’
‘Let’s have a look.’ Hector studied the high-resolution photograph then stabbed his forefinger down on it. ‘There it is!’ he exclaimed. ‘Mo’jiza. The miracle. Let me have the coordinates, Dave.’ While Dave worked them out, Hector continued scanning the map. Now he knew what to look for and where, he picked out the wadi immediately. He took Dave’s magnifying glass and examined the wadi carefully. The information that Tariq had given him seemed to be confirmed: no roads or tracks traversed the wadi.
He straightened up and went to where Bernie and Nella were standing outside the door, puffing on their cigarettes. Hector spoke quietly to them. ‘Tonight I want you to drop Tariq as close as you can to the village of Ameera. I am inserting him to make a reconnaissance of the area. After you have dropped him you will carry straight on to the Jig Jig landing strip with Paddy and his gang who will be on board. You will disembark them there with the trucks, and then come back here to Sidi el Razig.’ He glanced through the door at Hazel, who had followed him out of the situation room. He knew it was neither wise nor kind to let her sit alone in Sidi el Razig, with nothing to keep her fully occupied.
‘Mrs Bannock and I will come along with you for the ride to Ameera and Jig Jig.’ Hazel nodded her agreement, and Hector turned back to Bernie.
‘Work out your flying time for each stage of the flight. We must arrive at Jig Jig when it’s light enough to make a landing. We don’t want to attract any attention by circling around the area too long. Do you think you can find the strip straight off?’
‘Stupid question,’ Nella replied. ‘We’ve been there before, if you remember.’ She placed a pair of reading glasses with bright-orange plastic frames on her nose and she and Bernie went to work with a hand-held calculator. Nella looked up after only a few minutes. ‘Okay, takeoff from here will be at 2000 hours sharp. Anybody not on board gets left behind.’
Hector and Hazel stood together at the back of the flight deck of the Hercules, and over the heads of the pilots they watched the African nightfall. Hazel leaned lightly against him. The last rays of the sun lit the crests of the mountains ahead, turning them the colours of bronze and freshly minted gold. At the same time the land directly beneath them had already been blotted out by the darkness, and only the tiny pinpricks of light marked the positions of the widely scattered hamlets and villages of Puntland.
‘It’s so beautiful,’ Hazel whispered, ‘but I cannot see the beauty for the hideousness. Cayla is down there somewhere.’ The night closed its grip on them and the stars spread in splendour above them. Nella turned in her seat and lifted her headphones from her ears.
‘I’m beginning the descent now. Twenty minutes to the drop zone, Hector. Get your man kitted up and ready to go.’ Hector went back into the main cabin. Most of Paddy’s men had climbed into the trucks and found themselves comfortable places to sleep. But Tariq was waiting for Hector near the tail gate. He was dressed like a Somalian peasant with his possessions in a goatskin satchel tied around his waist, and rawhide sandals on his feet. While Hector helped him to buckle on his parachute, he went quickly over the pre-arranged contact and recognition signals.
‘Ten minutes to drop zone!’ Nella’s voice came over the tannoy. Hazel came back to shake Tariq’s hand.
‘This is not the first time you have risked your life for me, Tariq. I will find a way to repay you.’
‘I ask no payment, Mrs Bannock.’
‘Then I pray for Allah’s blessing and protection over you,’ she said, and at that Nella’s voice came over the tannoy again.
‘Five minutes to drop zone. I am opening the tail gate now. Make sure your safety harnesses are hooked on.’ The ramp lowered ponderously and the cool night air whipped around their heads and tugged at their clothing.
‘I can see the lights of Ameera dead ahead,’ Nella sang out. ‘One minute to jump.’ Then she began to count down the seconds: ‘Five, four, three, two and Go! Go! Go!’
Tariq ran forward and sprang head first over the edge of the ramp. The slipstream snapped him away instantly into the darkness. Nella closed the tail ramp and gradually increased the power on her engines. They climbed away on course for Jig Jig.
They circled the airstrip in the dawn. There were the ruins of a building, roofless and with the remaining walls crumbling. Even after eighty years the abandoned runway was still marked by small cairns of whitewashed rocks. The only sign of life was on the hillside above the strip, where a small boy in a red blanket warmed himself at a smoky little fire while his herd of goats grazed around him. The smoke from the fire gave Nella the wind direction. As the Hercules thundered low over them the boy and the goats scattered in panic. Nella touched down the big machine as lightly as a butterfly landing on a rose. Then it bumped and jarred over the rutted ground and pulled up long before it had run out of track. Nella dropped the tail gate, and Paddy led the little convoy of three trucks down off the tail ramp, and with a last wave of his gloved hand roared off back towards the Somali border. Nella used the engines to gun the Hercules around in a 180-degree turn and they were airborne again within five minutes of touch down.
‘Five and a half hours’ flying time home,’ Hector said as he slipped his arm around Hazel’s shoulders. ‘I have no idea how we are going to pass the time.’
‘We have this cargo hold completely to ourselves,’ Hazel pointed out. ‘May I make a suggestion?’
‘I read your mind and find it to be an excellent suggestion. Mrs Bannock, you are a genius.’
Tariq found an aardvark hole and stuffed his parachute and his para helmet down it. He wound his turban around his head, and slung the goatskin satchel over his shoulder. During his descent he had carefully marked the direction of the village. There were only two or three dim lights showing and he was amazed by the acuity of Nella Vosloo’s eyesight that had enabled her to pick them out from 10,000 feet. He set off for Ameera and within half a mile he smelt the woodsmoke of the cooking fires and the strong odour of goats and men. As he approached the village a dog barked, and another joined in, but the village slept on. It had been ten years since his last visit, but there was a gibbous moon to give him sufficient light to orient himself as he moved quietly among the thatched huts. His aunt’s was the third after the well. He tapped on the door, and after a while a woman’s voice spoke softly from behind it.
‘Who is it? What do you want so late at night? I am a decent woman. Go away!’
‘I am Tariq Hakam, I am looking for my mother’s sister, Taheera.’
‘Wait!’ called the unseen woman. He heard her moving around in the hut and then there was the strike and flare of a match. The soft yellow light of a kerosene lamp showed through the chinks in the mud wall. At last the door scraped open, and the woman stood looking out at him.
‘Is it truly you, Tariq Hakam?’ she asked and held the lamp so that the light fell on his face. ‘Yes,’ she whispered shyly, ‘it is indeed you.’ Artlessly she let her veil fall open.
‘Who are you?’ He stared at her face. She was young and very pretty. Her features were vaguely familiar.
‘I am sad that you do not know me, Tariq. I am your cousin Daliyah.’
‘Daliyah! But you have grown so big!’ She giggled coyly and pulled the veil over her mouth and nose again. Only ten years before she had been an urchin who had trailed around behind him in a most irritating manner in her grubby short skirts with unkempt hair and flies crawling on the dried
snot under her nostrils.
‘So have you grown big,’ she said. ‘I thought I would never see you again. I have often wondered where you had gone and what you were doing.’ She stood aside and held the door open. He stooped under the lintel and brushed past her. The light contact made his breath come a little shorter.
‘Is my aunt here, Daliyah?’
‘My mother is dead, Tariq, may Allah preserve her soul. I have returned to Ameera to mourn for her.’
‘May she find happiness in paradise,’ he said quietly. ‘I did not know of her death.’
‘She was very sick for a long time.’
‘What of you, Daliyah? Is there someone to protect you? Your father, your brothers?’
‘My father has been dead these five years past. My brothers have gone away. They have gone to Mogadishu to become fighters in the army of Allah. I am alone here.’ She paused then went on, ‘There are men here, coarse rough men. I am afraid. That is why I hesitated to open the door for you.’
‘What will become of you?’
‘Before she died my mother arranged for me to work as a servant at the fortress at the Oasis of the Miracle. I have come back here only to bury my mother and to mourn her. Now the days of mourning are spent I will return to my work at the fortress.’ She had led him through to the small lean-to kitchen at the rear of the hut. She set the lantern down and turned to him. ‘Are you hungry, cousin? I have some dates and unleavened bread. I have curdled goat’s milk also.’ She was eager to please him.
‘Thank you, Daliyah. I have some food with me. We can share it.’ He opened his leather satchel and brought out a pack of military rations. Her eyes lit up when she saw it. He guessed that she had eaten little for some while. They sat cross-legged on the dry mud floor facing each other with the small enamelled bowls between them, and he watched her eat with pleasure. She knew he was watching her and she kept her eyes modestly down-cast, but now and then smiled a little to herself. When they had finished she rinsed out the bowls and came back to sit across from him again.
