by Wilbur Smith
‘You say that you work at the fortress?’ he asked, and she nodded confirmation.
‘I have business there, in the fortress,’ he said, and she looked at him with quick interest.
‘Is that what brings you here?’ He inclined his head and she went on, ‘What is it you seek, cousin?’
‘A girl. A young white girl with pale hair.’ Daliyah gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes were dark with shock and fear. ‘You know her!’ he said with certainty. She did not reply but hung her head and looked at the ground between them.
‘I have come to take her back to her family.’
She shook her head sadly. ‘Beware, Tariq Hakam. It is dangerous to talk loosely like this. I fear for you.’
They were silent for a long time, and he saw her shiver.
‘Will you help me, Daliyah?’
‘I know this girl; she is young, as I am. Yet they have given her to the men to sport with.’ Her voice was almost inaudible. ‘She is sick. She is sick with the injuries they have inflicted on her. She is sick with loneliness and fear.’
‘Take me to her, Daliyah. Or at least show me the way.’
She did not answer for a while, then she said, ‘If I do as you ask, they will know that it was me that led you to her. They will do to me what they have done to her. If I lead you to her, I cannot remain in this place. Will you take me away with you when you go, Tariq? Will you shield me from their wrath?’
‘Yes, Daliyah. I will take you away with me, and gladly.’
‘Then I will do it, Tariq Hakam, my cousin.’ She smiled shyly and her dark eyes shone in the lantern light.
Tariq crouched under a ledge of rock facing the east. He had been there since an hour after nightfall. He was thinking about his cousin Daliyah. He was still wondering at her transformation from child to woman. Thinking about her made him feel happy. That morning before she left him to walk the four miles to the Oasis of the Miracle she had touched his arm and said, ‘I will be waiting when you come.’ He rubbed his arm where she had touched him, and smiled.
His thoughts were distracted by a soft tremble of sound in the sky. He looked up, but there was nothing to see but the stars. He cocked his head and listened. The sound grew stronger. He stood and picked up the old kerosene can with its lid cut off that Daliyah had given him and carried it into the open. He stacked the stones that he had collected earlier around the sides of the can to hold it securely. He listened again; now there were no doubts. The throb of multiple aircraft engines was unmistakable. From his satchel he brought out the naval distress flare and pulled the ignition tape, then dropped the flare into the can. He stepped back. It burst into flame and sulphurous smoke boiled from the can. The ruddy brilliance was reflected upwards. The sound of the engines increased until it was almost overhead.
Nella’s voice boomed over the tannoy. ‘I have the red marker flare visual. Two minutes to drop zone. I am opening the tail gate now.’ Hector had divided his men into two sticks of five. He would jump first with his stick, and Uthmann would follow him immediately with his four men. They were all dressed in traditional clothing with black scarves covering most of their faces, but over that they wore flak jackets and battle helmets, and they carried survival packs and ten clips of ammo for the assault rifles on their webbing belts and a sheathed trench knife. The Cross Bow armourer had sharpened the blades until they were keen enough to shave with.
‘First stick on your feet!’ Hector ordered and they stood and shuffled towards the open tail gate. ‘Switch on your marker lights!’ Each of them had a tiny fluorescent light fixed to the front of his helmet with an elastic strap. They reached up and switched them on. The bulbs were coloured blue and the light they threw was so feeble that it was unlikely to be picked up by a hostile watcher at ground level, but the pinpricks of light would orient them to each other during the free fall. Hazel had been sitting on the bench beside Hector, and now she stood up and wrapped her arms around his neck.
‘I love you!’ she whispered and he was the first man she had said that to for a very long time. ‘Come back. Come back to me.’ Over the tannoy Nella’s voice had begun the final countdown to the drop.
‘I love you beyond the telling of it,’ he said, and kissed her, leaving a smudge of cammo paint across her cheek. He rubbed it off tenderly with his thumb. ‘When I come back, I’ll have Cayla with me.’ She turned away quickly from him and ran forward towards the doorway onto the flight deck. She did not want him to see her cry. Before she reached the flight deck Nella gave the jump command over the tannoy.
‘Number one stick! Go! Go! Go!’ Hazel turned swiftly for a last glimpse of him, but he had been sucked down into the dark maw of the night.
In the rush of the wind Hector stabilized his fall in the belly-down star position, and looked firstly for Tariq’s red distress flare. He spotted it ten thousand feet below, at a down angle of approximately 45 degrees. Then he checked the space around him for the blue assembly lights of his men. Once he had located all of them he steered with subtle movements of his limbs and body to place himself at the head of their formation. His four companions were within touching distance as they dropped towards the red flare. He checked his altimeter and stopwatch. The time to fall was a little over a minute. Already they had reached their terminal velocity, and the earth was coming up to meet them rapidly. They were less than four hundred and fifty metres above ground level when he gave the hand signal to deploy their chutes and flare out. Now it was easier to steer and they slipped across the small breeze to settle like a flock of cranes within twenty paces of the burning red flare, landing almost simultaneously and staying on their feet as they spilled the air out of their parachutes. Immediately they formed a defensive circle with their weapons aimed outwards.
‘Tariq!’ Hector called softly. ‘Show yourself!’
‘It is me, Tariq Hakam.’ He stood up from behind a pile of broken rock. ‘Don’t shoot!’ He ran to meet Hector and they shook hands quickly, using the double grip.
‘Is all well?’ Hector demanded. ‘Where is this girl, your cousin?’ Tariq had spoken briefly of her this morning over the satellite phone.
‘She is inside the fortress. She will lead us to where they are keeping the Bannock girl.’
‘Can you trust her?’ Hector demanded. Having someone inside the fortress was an amazing stroke of luck, and he was always wary of too much luck.
‘She is of my blood,’ Tariq replied, and almost added, ‘and of my heart.’ But he did not want to tempt Iblis, the Devil.
‘Okay, I’ll accept that.’ Hector handed Tariq the spare rifle and pack he was carrying. At that moment Uthmann and his four men dropped out of the dark sky and landed close beside them. Tariq kicked over the can and piled rocks on top of the burning flare. The others were bundling and burying the parachutes.
Within minutes they had regrouped and Hector gave the order, ‘Tariq, take the point. Move out at the double.’
They followed Tariq at carefully maintained intervals. With weapons at the ready, they trotted at a ground-consuming pace along a rugged path made by grazing goats. They reached the first palm trees of the oasis in forty-four minutes and went into a defensive circle again, lying belly down and heads up. Tariq signalled that the ground ahead was clear and Hector waved him forward. Tariq slipped away amongst the trees. Uthmann crawled up alongside Hector.
‘Where is he going?’ he whispered. ‘Why are we stopping here?’
‘Tariq has someone inside the fortress. He has gone to make contact, and then he will lead us through one of the side gates.’
‘I did not know of this. Who is this informer? Is it a man or a woman? One of Tariq’s relations?’
‘What does it matter?’ Hector felt a tiny flutter of ill ease. Uthmann was too insistent.
‘You did not tell me of this, Hector.’
‘You did not need to know until now,’ Hector replied and Uthmann looked away. The set of his head and body was angry. Was he displaying his
resentment that Hector had not trusted him? This was not Uthmann’s usual style. Hector wondered if he was getting too old for the game. Was he losing his nerve? Hector could not face any darker possibility. Suddenly he made a decision, and he touched Uthmann’s arm, forcing him to look into his face.
‘Uthmann, you are to remain here with your stick as a fallback for us. If we run into trouble inside the fortress we will come out in a hurry. I want you here to cover us. Do you understand?’
‘I have always been at your side,’ Uthmann said bitterly. His surly behaviour was excessive, and it reinforced Hector’s decision not to take the man with him into the lair of the Beast.
‘Not this time, old friend,’ he said, and without another word Uthmann turned his face away and crawled back to his position with the second stick. Hector put him out of mind and stared into the trees of the oasis. He saw a moving shadow like a flitting moth, and he gave the soft two-tone recognition whistle. The reply came at once and Tariq materialized silently out of the trees. He had someone with him, a slim figure dressed in a long black abaya.
‘This is my cousin Daliyah,’ he said as the two of them dropped down beside Hector. ‘Her news is disturbing. She says that there has been much excitement amongst the Khan’s men. Nearly every man in the garrison has been sent to the north section beyond the mosque.’
‘Why?’ Hector demanded of the girl.
‘I do not know.’ Her voice was very soft.
Hector pondered a moment. ‘Is there a gate there in the north section where the men have been sent?’ he asked.
‘There is a gate,’ Daliyah confirmed, ‘but it is not the main gate.’
‘Did you intend to lead us into the fortress through that gate?’
‘No!’ She shook her head. ‘In the east wall behind the kitchens there is another entrance. It is a very small opening through which only one man can pass at a time. It is almost never used and few people even know that it exists. That is the way I planned to guide you.’
‘It is locked?’
‘It is locked, but I have one of the keys. This morning I took it from the pocket of the head cook. He has not missed it.’
‘Guards? Is this gate guarded?’
‘I have never seen guards there. I came out that way tonight. The way was open and the place was deserted.’
‘Tariq, it seems that your cousin is a brave and intelligent woman.’ Hector peered at her but could make out nothing behind the veil.
‘This I know,’ Tariq said gravely.
‘Is she married?’
‘Not yet,’ Tariq replied, ‘but perhaps soon.’ Daliyah hung her head modestly, but said nothing. ‘She advises us to wait here for a while before we go up to the fortress. Give time for the disturbance in the fortress to settle.’
‘How long does she think we should wait here?’ Hector asked, and Tariq pointed out the moon that was rising beyond the palm grove. It was five days from full.
‘We should wait until it is level with the tallest palm. By that time the guards will have relaxed and some of them might even be sleeping.’
‘About an hour and a half,’ Hector estimated and he checked his wristwatch. He crawled across to where Uthmann lay, and in a few terse words he explained his intentions. Then he crawled back to the head of his own stick. They lay silent and unmoving while the luminous minute hand crawled around the dial of his wrist-watch. Suddenly the heavy silence was broken by the howling and squealing of a pair of jackals under the walls of the fortress. This was challenged immediately by the clamorous baying of a pack of hounds within the walls.
‘My God, how many dogs is the Khan keeping in there, Daliyah?’
‘He has many. He likes to hunt with them.’
‘What does he hunt . . . gazelle, oryx, jackals?’
‘All those animals, yes,’ Daliyah replied, ‘but mostly he likes to hunt people.’
‘People?’ Even Hector was shocked. ‘Do you mean, human beings?’ She nodded and the starlight caught the sheen of tears in her eyes through the slit in her veil.
‘Even so. Men or women who have angered him. Some of them my relations or good friends. His men take them out into the desert and release them. Then the Khan and his sons run them with the dogs. They glory in this sport and laugh as the hounds tear their victims to pieces. They allow the dogs to feed on the meat that they kill. The Khan believes it makes the dogs fiercer.’
‘What a charming old chap he must be. I look forward to our first meeting,’ Hector murmured. They waited while the baying of the pack died away into silence, and the moon came up from behind the palms. Only then did he stir again.
‘Time to go, Tariq. Tell Daliyah to take the lead. We will keep well back behind her. If she meets anybody from the fortress she must try to divert them and give us a chance to deal with them before they kick up a fuss. You follow her and I will bring up the rear with the rest of the stick.’ The girl moved off quickly and with confidence. They followed her out of the trees and onto the hillside. Now Hector had his first clear view of the fortress. It loomed above them, massive and black. No lights showed and it seemed as lifeless as the moon that was rising behind it. The path climbed up towards it steeply. The girl did not slow her pace. Now the stone walls towered over them, as implacably malevolent as an antediluvian monster lying in ambush for its prey. Suddenly Daliyah turned off the main pathway and took a less clearly defined track which ran below the battlements. They skirted stinking piles of refuse that had been thrown down from the tops of the walls. Jackals were scavenging among the rubbish, and they fled at the approach of the men. At last Daliyah paused beside a ditch that emerged from a low arched opening in the stonework. The opening was barred with a lattice of rusting iron bars. Human waste trickled from the archway into the ditch, and the stench assaulted the senses. Daliyah stepped over the ditch and turned abruptly into another narrow defile in the stonework, just wide enough to admit one man at a time. She disappeared and in single file they followed her into the opening. They climbed up a series of roughly hewn steps and Daliyah was waiting for them at the top, outside a low and sturdy wooden door that was studded and banded with iron.
‘From here we must stay close together. It is very easy to lose your way once you are inside,’ she whispered, and drew a heavy iron key of ancient design from under her gown. She fitted it into the lock and with an effort turned it. She put her shoulder to the door and it creaked open. She had to duck low to pass under the stone lintel. They followed her. She closed the door behind the last man.
‘Don’t lock it. We will be in a hurry when we return,’ Hector told her softly. The darkness was so complete that it seemed like a crushing weight on their shoulders. Hector switched on the fluorescent headlight of his helmet, and the others followed his example. Daliyah led them on into a warren of twisting passages and interlinking rooms. There were small sounds: women were talking and laughing in one of the rooms they passed, and in another a man snored loudly. At last Daliyah motioned them to stop.
‘Wait here,’ she whispered to Tariq. ‘Put out your lights and remain quietly. I will go to make sure it is safe.’ She slipped away down the narrow corridor. The men squatted to rest, but they kept their weapons in their hands. Before long Daliyah came back, moving silently and swiftly.
‘There are two men guarding the door to the girl’s chamber. This is unusual. Usually there are five or six of them. Tonight the others must have been ordered to the north gate. One of the remaining guards will have the key to the girl’s cell. Make no noise. Follow me.’ Hector and Tariq moved up close on each side of her. After a short distance she stopped again and pointed ahead. The passage opened out suddenly and turned at right angles. They could hear men’s voices coming from beyond the bend, and yellow lamplight was thrown against the angle of the side wall and the ceiling. Hector listened intently and realized that there were at least two men droning out a passage from the ‘esha prayers. Then he saw their shadows on the side wall as they knelt and sat upright aga
in. Hector held up two fingers and Tariq nodded. Hector tapped his chest and showed one finger, and then tapped his own chest and held up another finger
‘One for each of us!’ Tariq nodded. They handed their rifles to the men behind them, and each of them unrolled the piano wire garotte he carried in his button-down pocket, and tested it between his hands. Hector crept up to the corner. Tariq followed him. They waited there until the two warders knelt with their foreheads pressed to the paving slabs. Then he and Tariq moved out behind them, and as they rose again into the sitting position Hector and Tariq dropped the wire nooses over their heads and whipped them up tightly under the chins. The Arabs struggled, kicking and flailing their legs and arms. But they uttered not a sound. Hector placed his knee between his victim’s shoulder blades and applied the power of both his hands. The man stiffened and kicked convulsively one last time as his bowels voided with a spluttering sound. Then he was still. Hector rolled him over quickly and patted down his robe. He felt the big iron key under the cloth and pulled it out. Daliyah was standing at the corner. Her eyes behind the veil were huge and bright with horror; perhaps she had not expected this killing.
‘Which door?’ Hector asked – there were three in the facing wall – but Daliyah was still too distressed to answer. Tariq sprang up and seized her shoulders. He shook her roughly.
‘Which door?’ She gathered her wits and pointed at the one in the centre.
‘Back me up,’ Hector told Tariq and went to the door. He unlocked it with the key he had taken from the warder and opened it slowly and stealthily. The cell was unlit, but he turned on his headlight. By its beam he saw how small the cell was. It was without any windows or ventilation. In the one corner stood a toilet bucket and a clay water pitcher. The bucket emitted a powerful odour. In the middle of the floor a small childlike figure was curled on a straw-filled pallet. She wore only a dirty shift that came down as far as her waist, so that there was no mistaking that she was female. He knelt over her and gently turned her so he could see the face. It was the face of the girl in the brutal video, the girl whose photograph Hazel had showed him. It was Cayla, but so pale and thin that her skin seemed transparent.
