I fell on my side and he wriggled around with his back to me, his bound arms groping for my chest. It was a grotesque business, but he got his hands into the pocket and explored around. 'It's right at the bottom.'
'Got it!' Slowly his hands came out under my nose and I saw he grasped the small object between his fingers. It wasn't very big — not more than an inch long — and was probably more of a stone scraper than an axe-head. But the edge was keen enough.
Trying to bite free?' said an amused voice behind us. Byrne dropped the scraper and it fell to the sand and I rolled on to it. 'You'll need strong teeth to bite through leather thongs,' said Lash.
I turned my head and looked at him. 'Do you blame me for trying?'
'Of course not, Colonel Stafford. It's the duty of every officer to try to escape, isn't it?' He squatted on his heels. 'But you won't, you know.'
'Get lost,' I said sourly.
'No — it will be you who are lost. If your bodies are ever found they'll look something like Billson's, I imagine. But they won't be found near here — oh, dear me, no! We couldn't have a coincidence like that'
He turned his head at the clanging of metal on rock, and I followed his gaze to see his men coming through the cleft, each carrying two jerricans. They carried them over to Flyaway and set them down, then went away again. Lash's attention returned to us. He said to Byrne, 'I've been going over what you've told me since we met this morning and I've come to a conclusion, Byrne. You're a damned liar!'. Byrne grinned tightly. 'You wouldn't say that if I had my hands free.'
'Yes, you lied about practically everything — about the position of this aeroplane, about looking for frescoes — so why shouldn't you have lied about Billson? It would fit your pattern. Where is he?'
'He left us three days ago!' said Byrne. 'His shoulder was bad and getting worse. That was where Kissack shot him. He'd had a hard time in the Tenere and it had opened up again and, like the goddamned fool he is, he said nothing about it because he wanted to find his Pappy's airplane.'
'So you know about that.' Lash glanced at me. 'Both of you.'
'When I found out how bad his shoulder was I was feared of gangrene,' said Byrne. 'So I sent him back with Atitel and Hami. I guess he's travelling slow, so he should be going down from Tamrit about now.'
'I wish I could believe you.'
'I don't give a hoot in hell whether you believe me or not.'
The men came back carrying four more jerricans which they put with the others. I watched them go back through the cleft. Lash clapped his hands together lightly. 'So, according to you, Billson never came here.'
'Not if he went back three days ago.'
'It doesn't matter,' said Lash, and stood up. 'I won't take the chance. Billson won' t leave North Africa. He's a dead man, as dead as you are.'
He went away and Byrne said, 'A real cheerful feller.'
'I wonder where Paul is?' I said in an undertone.
'Don't know, but I ain't putting my trust in a guy like him. Any help from him is as likely as a snowstorm on the Tassili.
Where's that goddamn cutter?'
I groped around for a full five minutes, sifting the sand. Got it!'
'Then hold on to it, and don't let go. We may have a chance yet.'
Kissack and Zayid came back carrying the propeller. Kissack showed the plaque to Lash who laughed. He didn't toss it aside but walked over to where the donkeys were patiently waiting and carefully stowed it. Then he climbed up on to the wing of Flyaway and looked into the cockpit 'He'll see that the compass is missing,' I muttered.'
'Maybe not,' said Byrne.
Lash made only a superficial investigation of the cockpit but then climbed up on to the fuselage and opened the cargo hatch. He peered inside, then said something to Kissack who was standing below. He seemed highly satisfied. He next made his way up the fuselage towards the engine where he sat astride the cowling just as Byrne had done. He picked up something and examined it, laughed again and tossed it down to Kissack, and pointed to us.
Kissack walked in our direction. He stood over us and held something in his fingers. 'Where's the spanner that fits this?' It was one of the nuts that secured the propeller to the engine shaft.
'Find it yourself,' said Byrne.
Kissack kicked him in the ribs. I said quickly, 'It's packed in a tool kit aboard that donkey — the one in the middle.'
Kissack grinned at me and went away. Byrne said, 'No need to help them, Max.'
'I'm not. I don't want them searching all the loads. The compass is packed among my kit.' I looked across at lash. 'Did you leave all the nuts there?'
'Yeah — in a neat row on top of the engine cowling. I'm a real tidy guy.' His voice was bitter.
Lash's men came through the cleft carrying four more jerricans; that made twelve and they apparently went back for more. A jerrican holds a nominal four gallons — actually a little more — so there was fifty gallons standing there on the sand. I said, 'What the hell do they want with all that water?'
'What makes you think it's water?'
I bunked in astonishment. 'You think it's petrol!'
They're putting the propeller back, ain't they?'
They're crazy,' I said. They can't fly it out of here.'
They don't intend to,' said Byrne. 'Remember Paul's Land-Rover? I figure they're going to burn it.'
Destroying evidence of what? I watched them replace the propeller. It was a much more laborious task for them to put it back than it was for us to take it off. At one time all five of them were engaged on the job and it was then that I took a chance and had a go at cutting the thongs around Byrne's wrists. Holding the polished and sharpened stone blade I sawed at the leather without being able to see what I was doing because Byrne and I were back to back.
Suddenly he said, 'Enough! They've finished.' I palmed the blade and twisted around again to look at Flyaway. Kissack and Zayid were handing up jerricans to Lash, who stood on the wing and was pouring petrol into the auxiliary tank. The other two were still engaged in ferrying more jerricans. Lash put fifty gallons into the tank and there was still another fifty available because I counted twenty-four jerricans in all.
'Three camel loads,' said Byrne. 'I did wonder about all those pack animals.'
Lash and Kissack came over to us. Byrne looked up at them. 'I said it to Wilbur and I said it to Orville — "It'll never get off the ground."'
'Very funny,' said Lash. 'Kissack's come up with a suggestion. He thinks we ought to put one of you into the cockpit.' He studied us, then turned to Kissack and said objectively, 'It can't be Byrne — he's too old and it might show. If it's anybody at all it'll be Stafford.'
Kissack shrugged. 'Suits me.'
Lash looked at me. 'I don't know,' be said reflectively. 'The clothes are wrong.'
'They'd be burnt.'
'Mmm. Then there are the teeth. This plane's going to be found some time, Kissack, and someone might decide to do a thorough investigative job. If they discover the wrong man in the cockpit, then a hell of a lot of questions are going to be asked.'
'After more than forty years!'
'Stranger things have happened. No, on balance I think we'll leave things as they are. We have Billson's body so let's leave it at that. It'll look as though he got out before the plane went up.' Lash looked down at me and smiled. 'Don't let your hopes soar, Stafford. It's merely a reprieve.'
I said, 'You're a cold-blooded bastard!'
Kissack kicked me in the ribs and Lash caught his arm.
'Don't do that. I detest gratuitous violence.'
Kissack said, 'Gratty-what violence?'
'I mean I don't get my kicks out of it as you do.' Lash turned and looked at Flyaway. 'It doesn't look crashed,' he complained. 'Not so it would burn out. We'll have to raise the tail and tip the whole plane forward on to the engine.'
'Hell, that thing's heavy!'
'Not as heavy as all that, and there are five of us. All we have to do is to lift up the tail and put sto
nes under it. When we get the pile of stones high enough it'll tip forward like a see-saw. But first, some petrol, I think.'
They walked away towards Flyaway and Lash climbed up on to the wing again. Kissack handed him a full jerrican and Lash poured it into the cockpit, and then poured another into the cargo compartment. Then he did the same thing again with two more jerricans and I saw the shimmering haze of evaporating petrol above the aircraft. It was like a bomb and only needed a spark to explode.
All five of them assembled at the tail. While four of them lifted the other piled stones underneath and gradually the tail rose higher and higher. While all eyes were off me I got busy with the stone blade at Byrne's wrists. I didn't see Flyaway tip over but when I looked her fuselage was at forty-five degrees and her tail was pointing to the sky. The rending noise had been the propeller bending under the sudden weight of the engine as it hit the ground.
They poured more petrol into her and Kissack used the last can to lay a trail across the sand. He didn't want to be too close when he tossed in a naked flame. He was quite a competent arsonist. Lash, standing close by us, took a paper from his pocket; I think it was the same one he had used to identify Flyaway. 'I won't need this any more,' he said conversationally, and lit one corner with a cigarette lighter. He held it up to make sure it was aflame, then tossed it into the petrol-soaked sand.
At first nothing happened. In the bright glare of the sun it was impossible to see the flames as they ran towards Flyaway. But then she exploded in fire; flames gouted out of the cockpit with a roar as though under forced draught, and ran up the fuselage right up to the tail and rudder until she was totally enveloped.
The donkeys brayed and plunged in fright. Lash shouted, 'Get those bloody donkeys out of here!' I don't think he had realized until then how much heat so much petrol would generate. They rounded up the donkeys and pushed them through the cleft, then went through themselves, leaving us lying there.
I took the opportunity of trying to cut the thongs at Byrne's wrists again, but he snatched himself away. 'For Christ's sake!' he said. 'Roll over against the rock and keep your head down. That goddamn auxiliary tank will be going up any second.'
We rolled over and huddled against the rock, keeping our faces away from the burning aeroplane. Behind us, seventy yards away, the auxiliary fuel tank exploded like a bomb and I felt a wave of searing heat. There was a pattering noise all about and something hit me in the small of the back. When I looked at Flyaway again she had blown in two, and her tail-plane and rudder were lying some distance from the forward section. One wing was also detached.
And I had lost my stone blade.
After that the flames died down very quickly and Lash came back. He looked down at us quizzically. 'Feeling a trifle singed? Never mind, it will make your hair grow.'
'Go to hell!' said Byrne.
Lash ignored him and looked at the wreck of Flyaway. 'A really nice job,' he said with satisfaction. 'I had considered using gelignite but it might not have looked right. This looks perfectly natural. Anyone who goes to the movies knows that, crashed aircraft burn well.' He beckoned to Kissack. 'Get these two on their feet and walking. We'll visit the grave.'
Kissack bent down and cut the thongs at my ankles and he wasn't particularly considerate about it because he cut me, too. I got to my feet laboriously because my hands were still tied behind my back and I lost my balance. Lash and Zayid led the way, with Byrne and me following, Kissack behind us with a pistol in his hand. The other two tagged on behind.
The cairn of stones had been disarranged and Billson's skull was showing. Lash looked down at it unemotionally. 'Well, we've got the body but we can't leave it like this, can we? I mean, the man wouldn't have died and conveniently buried himself.'
He gave orders in French and his men began to dismantle the cairn. I said, 'How did you know the plane would need burning?'
Lash shrugged. 'I didn't. If it had burned forty years ago it would have saved me a considerable amount of trouble. But I didn't take the chance. I never take chances. I came prepared for anything.'
He looked down as the desiccated corpse was revealed. 'Kissack wanted to put this in the cockpit before we burned the plane — but Kissack is a fool, as I'm sure you've learned. As soon as he told me there was an arm missing I vetoed that suggestion. Everything must not only look right — it must be right. I never take chances.'
The body was soon wholly uncovered. Lash looked down at it. 'Is this as you found it?'
'Yes.'
'I don't believe you. He would have left a message of some kind — left his papers.' His head came up and he stared at us. 'Where are they?'
'Maybe you just burned them,' said Byrne. 'You didn't search that airplane too well.'
'But you did,' said Lash. He turned to Kissack and said abruptly, 'When we get back down there I want those donkeys unloaded and everything searched.'
'All right,' said Kissack. He held the pistol negligently in his hand, muzzle down.
I wasn't worried about Billson's papers because Paul had them, wherever Paul was, which was probably a long way over the horizon by now. But if our stuff was searched they'd find the compass. Why in hell I was worried about that I don't know; it should have been the least of my worries.
I said, 'Kissack!'
'What?'
'When you burned Paul Billson's Land-Rover did you search it first?'
'What the hell? No, I didn't. What's it to you?'
'Nothing. You're getting paid five thousand pounds for this job, aren't you? I bet Lash is getting ten times as much.'
Lash's eyes flickered. 'Mr Stafford exaggerates.'
I stared at Kissack. 'Didn't Lash tell you?'
'Tell me what, for God's sake? What's Billson's Land-Rover got to do with my five thousand quid?'
I shrugged. 'Just that Billson was carrying quite a lot of cash. More than five thousand — much more. I can't believe Lash didn't tell you.'
'How much more?' Kissack said hoarsely.
'Fifty-six thousand in British currency. It was in his suitcase in the back of the Land-Rover.'
Kissack's eyes widened, and he whirled on Lash. 'Is that true?'
'How would I know?' said Lash in a bored voice. 'Keep your cool, man. Stafford's just trying to needle you.'
'Is he, now? I wonder?'
Lash lost his boredom. 'Damn it, if I'd known do you think I wouldn't have told you? Do you think I'd have stood by and let you burn money? I'm not such a — '
He had no time to say more because there was a shockingly loud bang from quite close and the top of Kissack's head blew off, spattering grey fragments of brain all about. His knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground, letting the pistol fall as he did so.
Paul Billson always did over-react.
CHAPTER THIRTY
An army rifle, even one of First World War vintage, is intended to kill men at ranges of up to a thousand yards or more, and an averagely good marksman finds it a comfortably good tool at four hundred yards. Paul Billson was not an averagely good marksman; in fact, he was not a marksman at all and later confessed that it was the first shot he had ever fired, whether in anger or otherwise. But even Paul Billson could not miss killing Kissack at a range of fifteen feet.
By his account he had gone to the grave and taken his photographs, then spent some minutes in contemplation. He had then gone back, picked up his two donkeys and followed the line Byrne had given him. He had spotted us surrounded by Lash's men on camels and tactfully drew aside. Luckily for him — and us — he had gone over rock, otherwise Zayid might have seen his tracks. He watched us led into captivity and wondered what to do about it.
He didn't say so but I think his first instinct was to make a run for it, yet I might be maligning him. Anyway, where was he to run? It was three days on foot back to Tamrit and he must have known that he could never find his way there by himself. But whatever his thoughts were he decided to stick around. And he discovered that Byrne's Lee-Enfield was packed on
one of his donkeys.
He went away and found a hole among the rocks and tethered the donkeys. One of them was inclined to bray, which frightened him because he thought it might be heard and they'd come looking for him. But he did the right thing. He unloaded the donkeys, hobbled them as he had seen Byrne do, and turned them loose. Then he looked at the rifle.
He had seen guns at a distance but had never handled one, nothing unusual in an Englishman of his age who had missed war service because of physical unfitness. There are not that many guns floating loose about Luton. He fiddled about with it, being careful not to touch the trigger, and worked the bolt action, trying to find the principle by which it worked. Eventually, more or less by accident, he pressed a catch and the magazine fell into the palm of his hand. It was empty, which was why no bullets were being inserted into the breech.
He thought about that for a moment and soon came to the conclusion that the ammunition would not be kept far from the weapon. He knew that Byrne was in the habit of keeping a full magazine in the pouch slung around his neck but surely there must be more bullets somewhere. He began to search through the loads he had taken from the donkeys and eventually found an opened packet containing eleven rounds.
When he tried to put bullets into the magazine they wouldn't fit so he tried them the other way around and they went in sweetly, compressing the leaf spring in the magazine. He found that it held five bullets. He pushed the magazine into the rifle and worked the action slowly and was rewarded by the sight of a cartridge being pushed firmly and smoothly into the breech. He now had the rifle loaded.
He knew there was such a thing as a safety-catch and soon found the small switch-like lever on the side of the rifle which would cover or uncover a red spot. His problem was that he didn't know when it was on and when it was off. It never occurred to him to take out the magazine, eject the round from the breech and then test the trigger with an empty gun. At last he reasoned that red would mean danger, so that when the red spot showed the safety-catch was off. He covered the red spot and stood up, holding the rifle.
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