by Jack Higgins
She shrugged and said calmly. “Five thousand dollars now and another five when, and if, you find him.”
For several moments they stood looking at each other and then he sighed. “Let’s discuss this over a cold drink. I know just the place,” and he took her arm and they went along the jetty to the waterfront.
5
THEY DIDN’T TALK MUCH ON THE WAY TO THE HOTEL. Ruth Cunningham replaced her sunglasses and gazed about her with obvious interest and Kane employed the time in studying her.
As they turned off the jetty and moved along the waterfront, he decided that Skiros had been wrong. She was not pretty—she was beautiful. The long slim lines of her were revealed to perfection by the simple linen dress as she walked. It had been a long time since he had talked to a woman like her—to a woman of his own kind.
The hotel was a tall, slender building with a crumbling facade and one narrow entrance that fronted onto the street. Inside, an ancient fan slowly revolved in the stifling heat, and he led the way across the entrance hall and into the bar.
There was no one there, and the French windows which gave access to the terrace outside creaked in the slight breeze from the harbor. Ruth Cunningham removed her sunglasses and frowned. “Isn’t there any service in this place?”
Kane shrugged. “There isn’t a great deal of action around here. Most people sleep during the afternoon. They figure it’s too hot to do anything else.”
She smiled. “Well, they say travel broadens the mind.”
He went behind the bar. “Why don’t you go and sit on the terrace while I get you a drink? There’s a wind coming in from the sea. You might find it a little cooler.”
She nodded, walked out through the French windows, and sat down in a large cane chair shaded by a gaudy umbrella. Kane opened the ancient icebox that stood under the bar and took out two large bottles of lager, so cold the moisture had frosted on the outside. He knocked off the caps on the edge of the zinc-topped bar, poured the contents into two tall, thin glasses, and went out to the terrace.
She smiled up at him gratefully when he handed her the glass and quickly swallowed some of the beer. She sighed. “I’d forgotten anything could be so cold. This place is like a furnace. Frankly, I can’t imagine anyone living here from choice.”
He offered her a cigarette. “Oh, it has its points.”
She smiled slightly. “I’m afraid they’ve escaped me so far.”
She leaned back against the faded cushions of her chair. “Mr. Andrews told me you were from New York. That you were a lecturer in Archaeology at Columbia.”
He nodded. “That was a long time ago.”
She said casually, “Are you married?”
He shrugged. “Divorced. My wife and I never hit it off.”
Ruth Cunningham flushed. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I hope I haven’t upset you?”
“On the contrary,” he said. “We all make mistakes. My wife’s was in assuming that University professors are well-paid.”
“And yours?”
“Mine lay in imagining I could be content with the ordered calm of academic life. I’d only stuck it for Lillian’s sake. She set me free in more ways than one.”
“And so you came east?”
“Not at first. The Air Corps was offering a full-time flying course for one year, then four on the reserve. I did that. Trained as a regular pilot. It was after that I came out here. I was in Jordan with an American expedition six years ago, then I did some work for the Egyptian government, but it didn’t last long. I came to Dahrein with a German geologist, who needed someone who could speak Arabic. When he left, I stayed.”
“Don’t you ever feel like going back home?”
“To what?” he said. “An assistant professorship, trying to teach ancient history to students who don’t want to know?”
“Has Dahrein anything better to offer?”
He nodded. “There’s something about the place that gets into your bones. This was once Arabia Felix—Happy Arabia. It was one of the most prosperous countries in the ancient world because the spice route from India to the Mediterranean passed through here. Now it’s just a barren waste, but up there in the hills, and north into the Yemen, is the last great treasure hoard for the archaeologist. City after city, some standing in ruins like Marib where the Queen of Sheba probably lived, others buried beneath the sand of centuries.”
“So archaeology is still your first love,” she said.
“Very much so, but we didn’t come here to talk about me, Mrs. Cunningham. Isn’t it time we got onto the subject of your husband?”
She took a slim gold case from her purse, selected a cigarette, and tapped it thoughtfully against her thumbnail. “It’s difficult to know where to begin.” She laughed ruefully. “I suppose I was always rather spoiled.”
Kane nodded. “It sounds possible. What about your husband?”
She frowned. “I met John Cunningham back home at some function or other. He was an Englishman from the School of Oriental Languages in London, lecturing at Harvard for a year. We got married.”
Kane raised his eyebrows. “Just like that?”
She nodded. “He was tall and distinguished and very English. I’d never met anything quite like him before.”
“And when did the trouble start?”
She smiled slightly. “You’re very perceptive, Captain Kane.” For a few moments she stared down into her glass. “To be perfectly honest, almost straight away. I soon discovered that I’d married a man of strong principles, who believed in standing on his own two feet.”
“That sounds reasonable enough.”
She shook her head and sighed. “Not to my father. He wanted him to join the firm, and John wouldn’t hear of it.”
Kane grinned. “Well, bully for John. What happened after that?”
She leaned back in her chair. “We lived in London. John had a research job at the University. Of course it didn’t pay very much, but my father had given me a generous allowance.”
“To enable you to live in the style to which you were accustomed?” he said, and there was something suspiciously close to amusement in his voice.
She flushed slightly. “That was the general idea.”
“And your husband didn’t like it?”
She got to her feet, walked to the parapet and looked out across the harbor. “No, he didn’t like it one little bit.” Her voice was flat and colorless, and when she turned to face him, he realized she was very near to tears. “He accepted the arrangement because he loved me.”
She came back to the table and sank down into her chair. Kane gently placed his hand on hers. “Would you care for another drink.” She shook her head slightly, and he shrugged and leaned back in his chair.
She pushed a tendril of hair back into place with one hand in a quick, graceful gesture and continued, “You see my father was a self-made man. He had to fight every inch of the way, and he told John pretty plainly that he didn’t think much of him.”
“And how did that affect your husband?”
She shrugged. “I insisted on living in the way I’d been used to, and it took my own money to do it. John began to feel inadequate. Gradually he withdrew into himself. He spent more and more time at the University on his research. I think in some crazy kind of way he hoped he might make a name for himself.”
Kane sighed. “That makes sense. And then he walked out on you, I suppose?”
She nodded. “He didn’t come home from the University one night. He left a letter for me in his office. He told me not to worry. Something very important had come up and he had to go away for a few weeks.”
“It still doesn’t explain why you’re looking for him here in Dahrein.”
“I’m coming to that,” she said. “I received a package four days ago from the British Consul in Aden. It contained some documents and a letter from John. In it he said that he was leaving on the coastal steamer for Dahrein. From here he intended to go up-country to Shabwa. He’d left th
e package with the Consul with strict instructions to forward it to me if he hadn’t claimed it himself within two months.”
Kane stared at her in complete surprise. “But Shabwa’s a bad security area,” he said. “Right on the edge of the Empty Quarter—one of the greatest deserts on the face of the earth. What on earth was he doing up there?”
For a moment she hesitated and then said slowly, “Have you ever heard of Asthar, Captain Kane?”
He frowned slightly. “An ancient Arabian goddess—the equivalent of Venus. She was worshiped in the time of the Queen of Sheba.”
She nodded. “That’s right. The Queen of Sheba was also high priestess of the cult.” There was a moment of stillness between them before she continued in a calm voice. “My husband had reason to believe that out there in the Empty Quarter are the ruins of the great temple Sheba built in honor of the Goddess Asthar.”
For a little while there was silence as Kane looked at her in astonishment, and then he shook his head. “Oh, no, Mrs. Cunningham. If that’s what your husband was looking for, it’s no wonder you haven’t heard from him. There isn’t a damned thing out there except sand, heat, and thirst.”
“My husband knew differently. You see, he made an amazing discovery some months ago. Part of his research work entailed the translation of ancient Arabic manuscripts and parchments, many of which had come from St. Catherine’s Monastery on Mount Sinai. While working on one of these he noticed it had been used before and the older script partially erased. By using specialized equipment available at the University, he managed to make a copy of the original writing.”
Kane was beginning to get interested. “Was that also in Arabic?”
She shook her head. “No, it was in Greek. An account of a special mission performed by a Greek adventurer called Alexias. He was serving as a centurion in the Tenth Legion of the Roman Army.” She leaned back in the chair. “Have you ever heard of a Roman General called Aelius Gallus?”
He nodded quickly. “He tried to conquer Southern Arabia in 24 B.C. Got as far south as Sheba and sacked the city of Marib. On the way back he had a rough time. Lost most of his army in the desert.”
She nodded. “According to Alexias, they moved much farther south to Timna and then marched on Shabwa. It was there that Aelius Gallus heard of Sheba’s temple. It was supposed to lie close to the ancient spice route between Shabwa and Marib, which cuts across a corner of the desert. There were fantastic tales told of the wealth of the place. Alexias was commissioned to lead a small body of cavalry into the desert on a lightning raid. They were to rejoin the main army at Marib.”
She paused and Kane said, “Well, go on. Did he find it or didn’t he?”
She smiled. “Oh, he found it all right. The route across the desert was marked by seven stone pillars, and the temple was about eighty or ninety miles from Shabwa. It lay in a gorge in a great outcrop of rock which, according to Alexias, reared unexpectedly out of the sand dunes. When they arrived, the temple was deserted except for one old priestess, who tended the flame on the high altar. The scouting party who were first into the place were so disappointed at not finding the treasure, they tortured the old woman to make her talk. Alexias arrived too late to prevent it. She died cursing them.”
In the silence which followed, Kane was conscious of a sudden irrational shiver. He said, “Did they manage to find the temple treasury?”
She shook her head. “It was too well hidden. They spent two days searching for it without success and then started back to Shabwa. The first night out they were caught in the open by a terrible sandstorm. It raged for more than a day. They lost some of the horses and had to double up. When they reached the first well they found it had been poisoned.” She raised her shoulders slightly and shrugged. “Cutting out the messy details, only Alexias came out of the desert alive and walking on his own two feet.”
“He must have been quite a man,” Kane said.
She nodded. “I’ll let you have the translation of his manuscript to read. You can judge for yourself. He doesn’t explain how he rejoined the Army, but he obviously managed it successfully. He ended up as commander of the fort at BeerSheba in Palestine, writing an account of his adventures.”
Kane got to his feet and walked across to the edge of the parapet. He looked out across the harbor to the Gulf of Aden beyond, shrouded in its perpetual heat haze.
The Catalina swung in across the town and splashed into the waters of the harbor. Beyond it a freighter moved slowly across the horizon toward the Indian Ocean, and three dhows in formation swooped in toward the harbor like great birds.
He saw none of these things. Before him stretched the Empty Quarter—and somewhere in its fastness was Sheba’s Temple.
When he lit a cigarette, his hands were trembling and his body was seized by a strange excitement. It was a feeling he had experienced only twice before in his life. In both instances he had been a member of an expedition on the brink of an important discovery.
But this—this was different. It was something momentous—the find of a lifetime. Something to rival Knossos or the discovery of Tutankhamen’s tomb in the Valley of Kings.
When he turned to face her, he was surprised at the steadiness of his voice. “Have you any idea of the importance of all this if what you tell me is true?”
She frowned. “I suppose you mean the treasure?”
“To hell with the treasure!” He came back to the table and dropped into his seat. “All we know about the Queen of Sheba is contained in the Bible. There hasn’t been a single inscription found referring to her by name, not even in Marib, which is supposed by most experts to have been her capital. Such a discovery would create a world sensation, and not only in academic circles.”
“I see,” she said slowly. “That explains why my husband kept his discovery to himself.”
Kane snorted. “The damned fool. Only a properly equipped expedition can handle this sort of thing successfully.”
“But don’t you see?” she said. “He was trying to prove something to me. This had to be his own discovery, alone and unaided. If fame came to him, then he had achieved it by his own efforts, owing help to no man.”
Kane laughed harshly. “If he tried to penetrate into the Empty Quarter on his own, then he was a fool. If he hasn’t died of thirst, he’s probably lying facedown in the sand somewhere with his throat cut.”
Deep pain appeared in her eyes and she nervously clasped and unclasped her hands. “You said Shabwa was a bad security area. Captain Kane. What exactly did you mean by that?”
He shrugged. “The borders of the Aden Protectorate and Oman are in dispute with Saudi Arabia. There’s been constant tribal friction for years. Military security in the area is handled by the British, and believe me, they’ve had their hands full. Because they can’t be everywhere at once, they’ve labeled certain places bad security areas. In other words, they can’t be responsible for what happens to anyone stupid enough to go there.”
When she looked across at him, her face was troubled. “And Shabwa is one of these areas?”
Kane nodded. “Very much so. People do visit the area, of course. At the moment there’s an American geologist called Jordan up there looking for oil. He’s managed to survive by tossing Maria Theresa silver dollars around like confetti and surrounding himself with a picked band of cutthroats, who make sure he stays alive because it’s to their own advantage.”
“Have you ever been there?”
He nodded. “Often, but then I’m pretty well known amongst the tribes in that area. They’re mostly Musabein and friendly enough if they take to you. The trouble is that the fringes of the Empty Quarter are inhabited by outlaws. Men cast out by their tribes for various reasons—mostly unpleasant. If they get hold of you, they’ll skin you alive and peg you out in the sun. Nice people.”
There was complete horror on her face. “And you think something like that must have happened to my husband?”
He shrugged. “There’s a fair to eve
n chance.” She shuddered violently and buried her face in her hands. Kane got to his feet and stood beside her, a hand on her shoulder. “Believe me, Mrs. Cunningham, I’m only trying to be honest with you. Anything could have happened to him.”
She pushed herself to her feet and stared up into his face, one hand clutching his arm. “But he could be alive? It is possible, isn’t it?”
For a moment he was going to tell her just how slim that chance was, and then he smiled and patted her reassuringly. “Sure, it’s possible.”
She started to cry. Kane slipped an arm around her shoulder and led her gently into the bar. “I think it would be a good idea if you went to your room and rested for a while. I’ll make a few inquiries. I might be able to find something out. If your husband was in Dahrein two months ago, someone must have seen him.”
She nodded slightly as they went out into the hall and mounted the stairs to the first floor. When they reached the door of her room, she took a key from her purse and fumbled at the lock. Kane took it gently from her, opened the door, and followed her inside.
There were several suitcases standing in one corner of the bare room, and she went across and opened the top one. After a moment’s search, she came back, a bulky envelope in one hand. “This is the translation of the manuscript,” she said. “I think you’ll find it rather interesting.”
He slipped it into his pocket and smiled. “I’ll see you this evening around seven for a drink. I may have some news for you.”
She smiled. “I’ll be waiting. I think I’ll try and get some sleep in the meantime.”
For a moment he matched her smile with his own and then he gently closed the door.
6
HE MOVED ALONG THE CORRIDOR AND AS HE REACHED the head of the stairs a door clicked open behind him. A voice said, “So you and Mrs. Cunningham got together sooner than you had intended?”
Skiros was standing in the doorway of his private room, a cheroot clamped firmly between his teeth, a faint smile on his face.
Kane nodded slowly. “I thought I’d better find out what she was after.”
