‘I’ve managed without up to now.’
Churchill winked and nodded towards Taha. ‘He’s got a wife and sons, you said? Mass war’s one thing, but when it comes to your own kids it’s another. In the end, a man has to look after his own.’
Churchill sat down opposite Taha, and poked up the fire with a stick. ‘I know you don’t trust me,’ he said. ‘And you have good reason. I knocked you out with that medicine, but only so we wouldn’t have to fight each other. I did it with the best of intentions, you have to believe that.’
Taha glanced at him sceptically. ‘All right,’ Churchill said. ‘I understand how you feel.’ He looked around, scanning the faces of both Sterling and Fahal. ‘Unless I am very much mistaken, we are all going to come across some very strange things in the next few days. All I want you to remember is this: whatever happens, whatever I say or do, I’m really on your side.’
Taha watched firelight flickering across the big face. For a moment he remained motionless with the new rifle clasped across his knees.
‘Now,’ Churchill went on, ‘I think it’s time you told us all you know about Craven and Corrigan.’
Taha cocked the unloaded Garand with a furious action, and squeezed the trigger so that the working parts crashed forwards.
Churchill winced. ‘You don’t want to do that too often,’ he said. ‘Wrecks the springs. Let it go forward under pressure. Hold the cocking handle and squeeze.’
Taha studied him carefully, wondering if the weapon was a simple bribe — paid for by someone else’s money. Churchill was showing a different face now, but was it his real face, or just another mask? He thought about it for a while, watching the flicker of the flames in the hearth.
‘Among my people,’ he said, ‘possessions are nothing. Honour is everything. If a man does not keep his word, he is nothing. Would you agree?’
Churchill brought out the stump of his cigar and stuck it in his mouth unlit. ‘A man must be loyal to his beliefs and commitments, yes,’ he said, nodding.
‘Very well,’ Taha said. ‘I want you to swear now in front of the others, by everything you hold dear, that you will help me to free my people, even at the risk of your own life.’
Churchill was suddenly still. He removed the cigar stump from his mouth and scratched his ear with it. ‘I’m not much on God and religion,’ he said, ‘but I believe in my country. I am its adopted son as you are of yours, but I’m ready to die for it if I have to. I swear now, in the name of the British Empire — what’s left of it — that I will help you to free your family, whatever the cost may be.’
For a moment Sterling thought he was going to tilt into the ‘fight on the beaches’ speech, but he didn’t.
‘God is your witness,’ Taha said. ‘And if you break your word you can never hold up your head again. Even if everyone here is dead, your name will be cursed throughout this country, wherever one tribesman remains alive.’
Churchill nodded gravely. ‘Yes,’ he said.
Taha heaved a long sigh. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Keith Craven was a liar and a traitor. The word in our language is bowqaa. I met him at the place of iron birds in Casablanca one day and he asked me if I’d like to go on a trip to Zagora. I said I’d have to ask Grandfather, but he told me he’d already spoken to him, and that it was all right. It was a lie. The iron bird did not fly to Zagora, but into the desert. Then something went wrong with the navigation instruments. I don’t know what it was, but the iron bird began to lose height, and Craven panicked. He jumped out, leaving me behind with Corrigan. It was Corrigan who saved me by pushing me out — I was afraid, and he punched me to stop me screaming. I fell over and my watch was ripped off.
‘It was night when I landed, but when it got light I found Craven’s body hanging from a rock. He was dead. I picked up his map-case, thinking it might help me, and fled. I spent the next day and night hiding in the iron bird. That night, Corrigan arrived at the aircraft, but he made no attempt to find me. Instead he found Craven’s body, cut it down and buried it in a shallow dune. In the morning I came out and found the body was gone. I ran back to the iron bird, frightened, but Belhaan had arrived. He took pity on me, knowing I would not survive in the desert alone, and he carried me home with him. That is how I became one of the Blue Men.’
Sterling felt tears in his eyes and fought them back, overwhelmed by his admiration for Taha’s fortitude, and by his sorrow for the missing years of Taha’s youth that could never be retrieved.
‘I don’t get it,’ Churchill said, chewing on his cigar. ‘Your father told me Corrigan’s story. He reckoned he arrived next morning and found you’d already been kidnapped.’
‘That’s another lie, by God,’ Taha said. ‘At first light I found Corrigan’s barefoot tracks in the sand near the iron bird. I didn’t know they were his at the time, of course, but he must have come in the night, because I was woken by a noise while it was still dark. He must have known I was there, at least by the time it got light — he would have seen my tracks. But he didn’t call my name or try to find me.’
‘But how do you know all this?’
‘Later, Belhaan, my father, told me he’d seen the strange tracks and was certain they belonged to an afrangi. Since Craven was dead it had to have been Corrigan. My father returned to the wreck many days later, found Craven’s body where it had been hastily buried, and hung it from the door of the iron bird, to scare off any snoopers.’
‘Damn near gave me a heart attack,’ Churchill muttered.
Sterling looked mystified. ‘But why the hell didn’t Corrigan help you?’ he said. ‘I mean, he’d already saved your life. Why dump you in the desert?’
Taha remained quiet for a moment. Then he said, ‘My father is one of the best trackers alive. He found evidence that Corrigan had searched Craven’s body for something. It could only have been one thing — the map I took from near his body. When Corrigan pushed me out he didn’t know that Craven would be killed, or that I would end up with the thing he wanted.’
Churchill leaned closer now, but his eyes were pools of shadow and Taha could not make out their expression. ‘What was this map?’ Churchill asked.
‘It showed the whereabouts of something that had been hidden in the desert. That’s what Craven wanted. That’s why he came. I didn’t know that at the time, but I do now.’
Churchill stuck the cigar behind his ear and leaned forward excitedly. ‘What was it? What was hidden in the desert?’
Taha watched him, his face darkened by the shadow of his new head-cloth. ‘Something evil,’ he said.
‘But you still have the map? Or you know where it is?’
Taha didn’t answer. There was silence but for the low crackle of the fire. Somewhere a desert cicada started up.
Churchill sighed, realizing there was no point in insisting. He leaned back on his big haunches, pulled the stump of his cigar from behind his ear and lit it with a glowing twig from the fire.
Fahal glared at him. ‘You don’t want to do that too often,’ he said. ‘Never take a burning twig from the fire. You must find an unlit one and light it, or you will attract the evil eye.’
‘Point taken,’ Churchill chortled, puffing at the stump to get it going. ‘But I think the evil eye’s on my case already.’
He blew out a long stream of smoke with satisfaction. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘My nose was right about Mister Ravin’ Craven. DFC and bar, my pimply arse!’
He smoked contentedly, but there was still something Sterling wanted to ask. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘If Craven was trying to find whatever it was that was hidden in the desert, why on earth would he take you?’
Taha sighed. ‘God alone is all-knowing,’ he said.
*
It took three days to reach the cliffs of Lehauf. They arrived there on the afternoon of the third day to find that only the jetsam of Belhaan’s former camp remained: stones set out in oblongs which had marked the placement of tents, dried and broken water-skins, fragments of ruined ro
pes and hobbles, shards of pottery. Auwra’s grave, freshly dug, lay under the rock-shelters of the cliff, but apart from that and the ancient runes and rock drawings, the place that had been Taha’s home had reverted to wilderness once more.
Sterling, Churchill and the two brothers climbed out of the Jeep and began to inspect the camp-rubble silently, the sun casting their long shadows across hard-baked ground. Fahal and Taha found the swath of tracks made by people and animals as they left the camp, heading towards the south. As they crouched down to examine them, Taha said, ‘Where are the other clans? Why have they not come to help?’
Fahal shook his head. ‘That is the worst news,’ he said. ‘On my way to Layoune I met with some Znaga who told me that a big raiding party of Delim, made up of hundreds of tribesmen, has entered our territory from the south. They have attacked many camps. Every Reguibat that can be spared has ridden to fight them. Our clan has been forgotten in the excitement.’
Taha shook his head, as if refusing to believe it. ‘This is war,’ he said. ‘War between the tribes.’
Fahal nodded. ‘But there is someone else behind this. The Christians, without doubt.’
Taha considered telling Fahal what the Spanish official had said in Layoune, but decided against it. ‘Listen, Brother,’ he said in a low voice, keeping Churchill and Sterling in sight. ‘Tell the afrang that they must go on a little way with you, while I pay my last respects to Auwra. As soon as you have moved on, I will dig up the Sonnenblume map.’
‘You think that’s what all this is about?’
‘Did you not see how avidly the big one asked about it? Belhaan always said this would happen one day, but I didn’t believe it. I could not imagine that the afrang would go to such lengths for gold. Now I have been back into their world, I remember. They dream of riches and possessions. They do not perceive that their lives are as a breath of wind blowing across the plains.’
‘God protect us from the stoned Devil!’
‘Give me your satchel.’
After the Jeep had moved off, Taha located the place where his tent had stood, found the fireplace, and dug into the ground beneath with a flat stone. The tin box was still there, and the map was still inside. He placed the box in the leather satchel Fahal had lent him, and sprinted to catch up with the others.
He found Churchill swearing in frustration under his breath with Fahal a hundred paces ahead. ‘Can’t we go any faster?’ the big man demanded.
Taha gave him a dismissive glance. ‘How can my brother track sitting in this machine?’ he asked.
They continued in fits and starts, and after a couple of hours topped a rise, looking across a long brown valley — ochre gravel beds, sifts of sands, razor-back ridges, thickets of dry acacia, sedge fields, the occasional lone withered tamarisk, and on the horizon a plug-shaped hill like a giant termitarium.
Fahal and Taha, who had both been walking ahead, waited for the Jeep to approach just below the skyline. ‘There they are,’ Fahal said to Churchill. ‘They will have spotted us already. The Delim have eyes like hawks.’
Churchill stepped out of the Jeep and took his binoculars up to the head of the ridge for a better look. Sterling and the brothers followed and crouched down next to him.
Churchill scanned the distant plain in confusion. ‘Where are they?’ he demanded. ‘I can’t see them.’
Fahal pointed the clenched fist of his good hand. ‘See the stump on the horizon?’ he asked. ‘That is Guelb Richat. See, there is a trace of smoke in the air above it? That is where our people are being held. The tracks also lead that way.’
‘But how come you’re so sure?’ Churchill asked. ‘I mean, that smoke could be from anyone.’
‘No,’ Fahal said. ‘The Ulad al-Mizna never make fires in the Guelb. To us it is a haram, a place sacred to the old spirits from the Time Before Time. No animal may be killed or tree felled here, no blood spilled, or fire lit. It has to be Delim.’
Churchill focused his field glasses. ‘I can see loose camels moving about under the stump,’ he said. ‘Look like ants from here.’
‘Grazing,’ Taha said. ‘They are probably our camels, too.’ Churchill rolled away from the skyline and sat up. The others joined him.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘That’s our target. But we’ll never get anywhere near them without being seen, at least not in daylight. It’s got to be a night attack.’
‘It is against our traditions to attack at night, or even by surprise,’ Taha said.
‘It won’t make any difference anyway,’ Fahal said. ‘They already know we’re here from the dust. And they’ll hear the noise of this machine long before we get there.’
‘Listen,’ Churchill said. ‘You want to get your folks back, right? Then let’s forget tradition for once. The odds are stacked heavily against us, whichever way you look at it. I’d feel far better with a squadron of Shermans and a couple of Lancasters to back us up. We’ll take a compass bearing on the hill, and we’ll approach after last light.’
‘We should go on foot,’ Taha said.
Churchill scratched his unshaven jowls. ‘No,’ he said. ‘We’d lose any advantage we have. I mean you said they were ... how many? Forty or more? There are only four of us: one’s a noncombatant and the other — all due respect — the other’s only firing on one cylinder. Without the Jeep we’ll be stuffed. It gives us mobility and fire power. Is there a way into that place wide enough for the Jeep to get through?’
‘Yes, there is a canyon.’
‘Good. And how will the Delim fight?’
Taha slapped the stock of his weapon moodily. ‘It is our way to fight in the open,’ he said. ‘Standing up, face to face with the enemy.’
‘That’s stupid,’ Churchill said.
Taha looked at him sharply. ‘It is not stupid,’ he said. ‘It is how brave men fight. It is not how many you kill that is important but your name, your honour — whether or not you show courage.’
Churchill stifled a snort. ‘I didn’t notice the Delim standing up and fighting like men when they jumped us before,’ he said. ‘They sneaked up on our camel-boys and shot ’em point-blank, then tried to pull the same trick on us. And didn’t you do the same thing when you put the flash-powder in the fire?’
‘Don’t insult me!’ Taha retorted angrily. ‘When I threw that knife, and the powder into the fire, I was standing in full view of the enemy, with a white band round my head to distinguish myself. I walked up to free you, I did not run.’
‘Sorry,’ Churchill said. ‘I didn’t mean anything — only those fellows ...’
Taha scowled. ‘They were honourable tribesmen once, but it is true they have become dishonourable of late. That means they are nothing — a man without honour is not a man. We cannot guarantee they will fight like men, especially as we come at night.’
‘We’ll go in slowly with the lights off,’ Churchill said. ‘And if they’re waiting for us we’ll draw fire. As soon as we see the flashes we’ll dazzle them with our full headlights and race in shooting. I’ll set the Bren up on the bracket in the back — I wonder how five hundred and twenty rounds a minute will suit them? Can you drive, George?’
‘I should say so,’ Sterling said. ‘Ex-Auxiliary Ambulance driver first class.’
‘Christ, yes, I’d forgotten. Good. That frees me to handle the gun.’
‘But isn’t this going to be suicide?’
‘Your father-in-law’s lot, the LRDG, got away with it dozens of times in the war,’ Churchill said. ‘Used to drive into Eyetie airfields right into the centre of machine-gun nests. Amazing how people keep their heads down when faced with a fast vehicle spitting fire. And remember, we’re not fighting Eyeties or Jerries. These fellows aren’t used to mechanized war. They’ll have no idea what our intentions or capabilities are. We’ll put them to flight, capture the camels and free the hostages.’
‘I hope you know what you’re talking about. They got those M1s from somewhere and they seemed to know how to use them last time.�
��
‘If I recall it was Taha, Dwarf and Churchill eight, Delim three, in the first round.’
‘Yes, but maybe they’ll be shooting at us this time.’
‘Let’s eat,’ Taha said. ‘Then we shall be ready for the fight.’
*
One of Amir’s men had spotted the dust cloud first, and now Von Neumann lay on a ledge of the crater, scanning the horizon with his field glasses. It was the enemy, all right, and they were equipped with a single Jeep, just as he’d been told. They had stopped just below the distant skyline.
‘They’ll move at last light,’ he told Wohrmann, who was lying next to him. ‘I estimate they will be here within two hours.’
When he’d noted their position, Von Neumann put the field glasses away and slid down the scree into the canyon. The signaller followed. Further along, on the sandy bed of the crater, the forty-five Delim were encamped with their camels, saddles and equipment laid out neatly, every six or seven men crouching around a cooking fire. A vapour of blue smoke filled the gorge.
On the far side of the crater, under the rock overhangs, Belhaan and his clan sat stoically eyeing their captors with curiosity rather than fear. The clan had been disarmed and their livestock stolen and now they were prisoners. Such conduct was unknown in the annals of desert raiding. For Belhaan’s people it was the worst disaster in memory, and yet in the long run it would be far worse for the Delim. When the news of their transgressions became known, no other tribe would trade or co-operate with them and their very name would be reviled forever. They would be shunned as outcasts, spat upon even by the smiths.
Belhaan had seen the four afrang who had been waiting for them here in their two iron chariots, and now he knew where the Delim had acquired their new rifles. He had guessed the Delim had sold themselves to the devil, and now he had seen the devil. He also knew what it was these particular devils sought. The thing he had feared ever since Taha had come, ever since they had found the afrang graves, had finally come to pass. It was like a terrible irifi, threatening to uproot his people and draw them into its very eye. And yet Belhaan didn’t reproach himself for having adopted Taha. The boy had been a real son to him, had become a man to be proud of. The rest was the work of God, who moved in opaque and mysterious ways. For now, their captors were giving them food and water, which meant they were needed alive. For the future, he would trust in God and wait and see.
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