Sheba

by Jack Higgins

  Omar waved her away and Kane offered him a cigarette, which the headman accepted eagerly. When it was drawing to his satisfaction, he sat back with a sigh and said courteously, “In what way may I help you?”

  Kane nodded to Ruth Cunningham. “I seek this lady’s husband,” he said. “He came here about two months ago. Can you tell us anything about him?”

  Omar’s eyes sparked with interest and he inclined his head to Ruth Cunningham with a pleasant smile and said to Kane, “Presumably the woman does not understand Arabic?” When Kane nodded, he went on, “A man did come here some two months ago. He arrived with a convoy of trucks one day. They went on to the camp of the American Jordan, but this man stayed in Bir el Madani.”

  “Where did he go from here?” Kane said.

  Omar shrugged. “Who knows? He was mad—quite mad. He wanted to journey from Shabwa to Marib by camel. He needed guides.”

  “And did you help him?” Kane said.

  Omar nodded. “The camels I could supply, but the guides were another matter. No one ventures into the Empty Quarter, as you know, unless he is a hunted man with a price on his head.”

  “Then he went alone?”

  The headman shook his head. “There was a mad Bedouin passing through here at the time—a Rashid. You know what they are like. Anything for adventure. Proud, reckless men. He volunteered to go with the Englishman.”

  “And have you heard of them since?” Kane said.

  Omar smiled faintly. “Captain Kane, their bones are bleaching in the sun at this moment. It is the only end for those who are foolish enough to venture into the Empty Quarter.”

  For a little while Kane sat there, frowning, and then he got to his feet and gave Ruth Cunningham a hand. “Have you found anything out?” she demanded anxiously.

  He nodded. “Plenty. Your husband was here. He managed to get camels and a Bedouin of the Rashid tribe to accompany him. He told Omar he intended to cross the Empty Quarter from Shabwa to Marib.”

  Her eyes were troubled and Kane patted her reassuringly on the arm and turned to Omar. “Many thanks, my friend, but we must go now. I shall fly this lady to Shabwa and then a little way out into the desert. Perhaps we shall discover something.”

  Omar nodded and accompanied them to the door. As they emerged into the street, several villagers passed dragging a crude cart on which lay the two assassins.

  Their robes were dabbled with blood and clouds of flies hovered over them. Ruth Cunningham shuddered violently and Omar said, “I rejoice at your narrow escape, Captain Kane.”

  Kane turned quickly, a look that was almost amusement in his eyes. “You knew they were waiting for me?”

  Omar nodded. “But of course,” he said gently.

  “And knowing, you made no attempt to prevent it?”

  Omar looked pained. “I could not possibly interfere with another man’s blood feud.”

  Kane started to laugh. An expression of complete bewilderment appeared on Omar’s face and Kane took Ruth Cunningham’s arm and led her away, still laughing.

  “What was all that about?” she said. “I find all this Arabic frustrating.”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” he told her. “A private joke.”

  As they walked toward the airstrip she said, “That was wonderful coffee we had. Who was the woman—his wife?”

  Kane shook his head. “A household slave.”

  “Surely you’re joking,” she said.

  He smiled gently. “Didn’t you notice the mark of the hot iron on Jamal’s forehead? He was a slave in the Yemen. They cut out his tongue the first time he tried to escape. There are thousands of slaves in most parts of Arabia still.”

  She shuddered and they continued the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the plane, the only signs of the fight were several patches of blood in the sand of the runway. Kane pushed her into the cabin and clambered up behind. He wasted no time, and a few moments later they were climbing steeply into the blue sky.

  They reached Shabwa within ten or fifteen minutes and Ruth Cunningham looked down with an expression of disappointment on her face. “I can’t say I find it particularly thrilling.”

  Kane nodded. “Not very imposing, I agree, but under the sands down there are the sixty temples the Roman historian Pliny wrote about. A treasure trove for some future expedition.”

  He checked the compass and turned the nose of the Rapide out into the desert. “I’ve set course for Marib. According to Alexias, the temple should be somewhere out here on a direct line from Shabwa. About ninety miles, he said. Let’s hope we come across something.”

  He took the plane down to a height of five or six hundred feet above the sand dunes, hoping for tracks or some other sign that human beings had passed this way, but there was nothing. The desert stretched as far as the eye could see, sterile, savage, and unbelievably lonely.

  After some fifteen minutes, Ruth Cunningham gave him a sudden nudge. In front of them an immense sand dune that must have been seven or eight hundred feet in height lifted into the sky, and Kane pulled back the column slightly. The engine spluttered and missed a couple of times.

  He pulled the column back hard and the Rapide lifted over the top of the sand dune with only a few feet to spare, and then the engines coughed and died.

  The utter silence which followed was broken only by the sough of the wind in the struts, and then, as the plane dipped sickeningly, Ruth Cunningham screamed.

  Kane fought for control. About fifty or sixty feet above the sand, he managed to level out and then another great sand dune was rushing toward them. “Hang on!” he said tightly, and pulled on the column with all his strength.

  The Rapide swerved violently. For a moment it seemed to right itself, and then the left wingtips dipped to the sand. The aircraft spun in a circle and there was a tearing crunch of metal. Kane cried a warning and braced himself to withstand the impact as they ploughed to a halt through the soft sand.

  9

  KANE GAVE A LONG, SHUDDERING SIGH AND WIPED sweat from his eyes with the back of one hand. He turned and looked into the white, strained face of Ruth Cunningham. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded briefly. “I held on tight as we went in.”

  He opened the door and jumped to the ground. The nose of the Rapide was half-buried in soft sand and the left wing was crumpled and useless.

  “I can’t understand why we didn’t catch fire,” he said with a frown and came back to the door and looked at the instrument panel. “That’s strange, the fuel tank is empty.”

  She moved across the cabin and clambered out through the door. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I don’t really know. When the engine failed, it could have been lack of fuel, but I don’t see why. I wonder what state the radio’s in.”

  As he climbed back into the cabin to examine it, Ruth Cunningham said, “Is there anyone near enough to pick up the signal?”

  He nodded. “Jordan has a short-wave receiver at his camp.” He examined the set briefly and turned with a grimace. “I’m afraid we’ve had it. They weren’t built to stand up to this kind of treatment.”

  Ruth Cunningham ran a hand over her face wearily. “I’d give anything for a drink of water.”

  “We can soon fix that,” he said, reaching behind the backseats for a large jerrycan and plastic cup. “This thing’s full, so water is the least of our problems.”

  He gave her a long drink and had one himself. Afterwards, they sat in the shade of the wing, smoking cigarettes and not talking.

  After a while, she turned and looked at him and said in a level voice, “Gavin, give it to me straight. What are our chances?”

  “A lot better than you think. I reckon we’re about thirty miles from Shabwa. It’s no good trying to make it during the heat of the day. The best thing we can do is rest up here and make a move at dusk. We’ll be able to travel a lot faster at night because of the coolness.”

  “Do you think they’ll come looking for us?
”

  He nodded confidently. “Of course they will. As soon as Marie and Jordan return to Bir el Madani and find we’re missing, they’ll form a search party. Those Ford trucks of his are specially fitted for desert work.”

  She looked into his eyes searchingly and then she smiled. “I’m glad I’m with you, Gavin. With anyone else, I think I would have been scared—really scared.”

  He smiled and helped her to her feet. “But there isn’t anything to be scared about. A few hours’ discomfort, that’s all. It’s the sort of thing you’ll be able to talk about for years and the details will grow with the telling.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Her shoulders sagged and she looked tired.

  He pushed her toward the cabin door. “Try to sleep for a few hours. You’ll find it cooler in there. I’ll wake you later on this afternoon.”

  He closed the door behind her, lay down in the shade of the right wing, and pillowed his head on his hands.

  He wished he felt as confident as he had tried to sound. On his own and with plenty of water, he would have stood a fair chance of reaching Shabwa in a forced march during the night, but with a woman . . .!

  One thing was certain. Marie and Jordan would come looking for them, but the trick lay in knowing where to look and the desert was a big place.

  He listened to the stillness and felt the heat press down on him with a force that was almost physical, and after a while he drifted into a troubled sleep.

  Somewhere there was a scream of terror and something hard poked him under the chin. He opened his eyes and looked along the barrel of a rifle.

  The man on the other end was a Yemeni in colored turban, his half-naked body smeared with indigo dye. At some time in the past, his ears had been cropped—the sign of a thief—and his right cheek branded.

  Two others were dragging Ruth Cunningham from the cabin, and as Kane scrambled to his feet her shirt ripped and she fell to the ground. One of the men laughed and dragged her upright by the hair.

  The man’s face had been eaten away by yaws, his eyes burned out of a mass of putrefying flesh, and there were two holes where his nose had once been. Ruth Cunningham stared with horror into that ghastly face and fainted.

  Kane took a step toward her and the three Yemenis all swung their rifles ominously. “It would be unwise to move,” the one with the cropped ears said in harsh, guttural Arabic.

  Kane moistened dry lips. “Take us to Bir el Madani and there will be a rich reward for you.”

  The one with the face out of a nightmare uttered an oath and spat. He took a quick step forward, reversing his rifle, and rammed the butt into Kane’s stomach. One of them took the Colt automatic from his hip pocket. Then they left him for a while, his face in the sand, breathing deeply and waiting for the agony to pass.

  The three men were outlaws—so much was obvious. But how they were going to act, that was the important thing. They seemed to be having an argument, and Kane opened his eyes, his breathing easier, and tried to listen.

  Dirty brown feet encased in leather sandals appeared before his face and a hand pulled him into a sitting position. He found himself facing the man with the cropped ears.

  He squatted in front of Kane, rifle cocked in his arms, and grinned. “It is time for us to go now.”

  “Take us to Bir el Madani,” Kane urged desperately. “You will receive a large reward, I promise you. Five thousand Maria Theresa thalers.”

  The Yemeni shook his head. “Over the border I am a dead man walking.” He nodded toward Ruth Cunningham. “We can make as much money selling the woman in the slave market at Sana.”

  “Ten thousand,” Kane said. “Name your price. She is a very rich woman in her own country.”

  The Arab shook his head. “How can I be sure she would honor the bargain? A white woman commands a high price in the Yemen.”

  “And what about me?” Kane said.

  The Yemeni shrugged. “My friends wished to cut your throat, but I have persuaded them otherwise. Whether you live or die is your own affair. Shabwa is but a short step for a strong man.”

  Kane frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  The Yemeni grinned. “You do not remember me? Two years ago when the Bal Harith were camped near Shabwa? There was some question of a stolen horse. If they had caught me, it would have meant my life. You allowed me to hide in your truck until darkness. The ways of Allah are strange.”

  Kane remembered the incident at once. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Help us to safety and I’ll see you are richly rewarded. At least you owe me that.”

  The Yemeni shook his head and stood up. “A life for a life. Now I owe you nothing. Rest content. My friends wished to relieve you of your manhood, at least. If you are wise, you will stay quiet until we have gone.”

  He joined his two companions, who had already mounted their camels, one of them slinging Ruth Cunningham’s unconscious body across his wooden saddle. Kane stood by helplessly as they rode away from the plane and disappeared into a fold of the dunes.

  He glanced at his watch. It was just after noon, which meant that he had slept for longer than he had supposed. For a moment he stood there, considering and rejecting possible courses of action. But there was really no solution—just the slightest chance that he might be able to do something with the radio. He climbed into the cabin and set to work.

  From the beginning it was hopeless and yet he kept on working, long after it became obvious that the set was damaged beyond repair, hoping to nurse into life a spark which would live long enough to carry a message to the outside world.

  Sweat dripped from his body and the heat in the cabin enveloped him so that he had to stop on several occasions for rest and water. It was shortly after three when he finally admitted defeat. He sat back wearily and started to light a cigarette. At that moment, he heard the sound of an engine approaching through the stillness.

  He jumped down to the ground and stood there listening, a sudden wild hope inside him. It was close, very close. As he shaded his eyes with one hand and looked up, a truck topped a dune a hundred yards away and came toward him.

  Marie was driving with Jamal sitting beside her. As Kane went toward them, she cut the engine, slid from behind the wheel, and ran to meet him. “Are you all right, Gavin?” she demanded anxiously.

  He nodded. “I’m fine, but I don’t understand. How did you get here so quickly?”

  “It’s a long story,” she said. “Is Mrs. Cunningham in the plane?”

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

  He quickly described what had happened, and when he had finished Marie looked grave. “If we don’t catch them before darkness, there’s no knowing what they might do to her.”

  He nodded. “If we get moving straight away, we should find them without much difficulty.”

  He sat beside Marie in the front seat, Jamal climbed into the back, and within a few moments they were moving, following the clearly defined tracks of the three camels.

  The truck was fitted with twelve forward gears and this, coupled with four-wheel drive, made it ideal for crossing the shifting sand dunes.

  Kane leaned back in his seat. “You’d better fill me in on what happened at Bir el Madani.”

  “I finished my business with Jordan by eleven,” Marie told him. “He sent Jamal and me back to the village in this truck with one of his drivers. When we reached the airstrip, Omar was waiting for us. He said there was a stranger in the village—a coast Arab who had been heard to boast that you would not be returning.”

  “And Omar actually volunteered this information?” Kane said.

  She smiled faintly. “You’ll never understand the complexity of the Arab mind, Gavin. To kill your enemy face-to-face is one thing, but a trick such as tampering with the plane”—she shrugged—“to Omar, such a thing would lack honor.”

  “I’ll go along with that,” Kane said, “but how did you find out for certain what had happened?”

  “Omar pointed
out the man in question and we took him behind a hut and questioned him. He was stubborn, but with his right arm broken and the threat of similar treatment to his left, he saw reason.”

  Kane glanced sharply at her in amazement. “My God, you don’t believe in half-measures, do you?”

  “My mother was a Rashid,” she said calmly. “We are a hard people, especially when the things we value are threatened.”

  To that, there could be no reply, and Kane said, “He’d tampered with the fuel tank, I suppose?”

  “He took advantage of the confusion when the villagers were swarming around the bodies of the assassins. No one noticed him in the crowd.”

  “Did you manage to find out who’d paid him?”

  She nodded. “Just as you thought—Selim.”

  Kane frowned. “He must really hate me to go to all this trouble. How did you manage to find the plane so easily?”

  “I knew you were flying on a direct line from Shabwa to Marib. I took a bearing, followed the compass, and hoped for the best. I sent Jordan’s driver back to the camp with a note explaining what had happened.”

  Kane grinned wryly. “You’re fast becoming indispensable.”

  For once she could find nothing to say and concentrated on her driving, following the twisting tracks with ease until they finally came to a broad plain of flat sand mixed with gravel that stretched away into the distance. She moved into top gear and pressed her foot flat against the boards.

  The truck raced across the flat plain in a cloud of dust, and soon the three of them were coated with sand from head to foot. Kane helped himself to water and his eyes ceaselessly searched the plain ahead, looking for the black dots in the distance which would indicate their quarry.

  There were two rifles bracketed to the roof of the truck and he took them down and handed one to Jamal. The great Somali’s hands checked the weapon expertly and then he cradled it in his arms, one finger inside the trigger guard.