Roper tapped his keys. "Yes, they are. Ben Carver? ExSquadron Leader in the RAF?"

"The old sod," Dillon said. "So what's Kate up to?"

"That's what Ferguson asked when I told him. Of course, there are a dozen different reasons why she could be going down there, but Ferguson said he would contact Tony Villiers, ask him to keep an eye on her." Colonel Tony Villiers was the Commander of the Hazar Scouts.

"That should help. Villiers is good, and he isn't particularly keen on the Rashids since they skinned his second-in-command, Bronsby."

"Yes, they do have their little ways. Now go away, Dillon. I've got work to do."

At that moment, on the border between Hazar and the Empty Quarter, Tony Villiers was encamped with a dozen of his Hazar Scouts and three Land Rovers. A small fire of dried camel dung burned, a pannier of water on top.

His men were all Rashid Bedu and all accepted Kate Rashid as leader of the tribe, but the clan spilled across the border as well. There were good men over there in the Empty Quarter and there were bad men, bandits who crossed into Hazar at their own risk, for the Scouts had sworn a blood oath to Villiers. Honor was of supreme importance to them-each one would kill his own brother, if necessary, rather than violate his oath.

They sat around the fire, AK a.s.sault rifles close at hand, wearing soiled white robes and crossed bandoliers. Some smoked and drank coffee, others ate dates and dried meat.

Tony Villiers wore a head cloth and crumpled khaki uniform, a Browning pistol in his holster. He'd never gotten used to dates and had just eaten the contents of a large can of baked beans cold. One of the men came across with a tin cup.

"Tea, Sahb Sahb?"

"Thanks," Villiers replied in Arabic.

He sat down and leaned against a rock, drank the bitter black tea, smoked a cigarette, and looked out to the Empty Quarter. It was disputed territory there, and utterly lawless. As someone had once said, you could kill the Pope there and no one would be able to do a thing. That's why he kept to his side of the border whenever possible.

Villiers, approaching fifty now, had served in the Falklands and every little war in between up to the Gulf and Saddam, then had ended up on secondment here in Hazar. It was just like in the old days, a British officer commanding native levies, and it was beginning to pall.

"Time to go, old son," he said softly, lit another cigarette, and the mobile in his left breast pocket rang.

The Codex Four was not available on the open market. It had been developed for intelligence use in places where strict security was necessary, and Villiers had his courtesy of Ferguson.

"That you, Tony? Ferguson here."

"Charles, how's every little thing at the Ministry of Defence?"

"Put your scrambler on."

Villiers pressed a red b.u.t.ton. "Done."

Ferguson said, "Where are you?"

"Wouldn't mean a thing to you, Charles. Marama Rocks, just on the border with the Empty Quarter. I'm on patrol here with a few of my men."

"You've got a new second-in-command, I hear."

"Yes, another Cornet, from the Lifeguards this time, named Bobby Hawk. He's off in the other direction with his patrol. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I've just heard that Kate Rashid's flying in tomorrow."

"Well, that's not unusual. She comes here all the time."

"I know, but there've been some funny things going on here. I just have a gut feeling, that's all. Where does she go?"

"Lands at Hamam, then goes to Shabwa Oasis by helicopter in the Empty Quarter. But you know that, you've been there yourself."

"Is anything going on there, Tony?"

"I wouldn't know. I'm forbidden by the Sultan's decree these days to go over the border into the Empty Quarter."

"Don't you find that strange?"

"Not really. All right, I know Kate Rashid has the Sultan by the throat, so I a.s.sume that it's her order, not his. But she's the leader of the Rashid Bedu and that's Rashid territory. End of story."

"Could there be something going on out there?"

"Preparing for a revolution, you mean? Come on, Charles, what does she need a revolution for? She's got everything she wants."

"All right, all right, but be a good chap. Scout around, put the word out."

"If I do, Kate Rashid will know in five minutes, but all right, I'll do what I can. I'm due down at the port tomorrow anyway."

"Good man, Tony, keep in touch."

Villiers sat there thinking about it, then called, "Selim." His Sergeant came over. "A big place, the Empty Quarter."

"Awesome, Sahb. Sahb."

"A man could hide out there forever."

"This is true, Sahb. Sahb."

"In fact, many men?"

Selim looked a little hunted. "This is possible, Sahb. Sahb."

"Shabwa is not the only oasis your people use, there are others."

"All Rashid, Sahb. Sahb."

"So, if others came, from another tribe for instance, you would know."

"We would kill them, Sahb. Sahb. Any oasis is ours, the wells are ours." Any oasis is ours, the wells are ours."

"But if such people had permission, say, from the Countess?"

Selim was caught and terribly upset. "Yes, Sahb, Sahb, that would be different." His face was pale. that would be different." His face was pale.

"Yes, I thought so." Villiers patted his shoulder. "We move out in ten minutes."

Villiers turned and looked to the Empty Quarter. There was something out there. Ferguson's wild shot had been right. Poor old Selim, so transparent. But what could it be? No way of knowing. If he strayed over the border, he wouldn't last half a day. The Bedu would know-knew where he was now, come to that. He sighed, took out the Codex Four, and dialed Charles Ferguson back, rather sooner than he had intended.

Dillon was at The Dorchester just before seven, dressed in a black Brioni suit, white shirt, and black tie. He called it his undertaker look, which was appropriate, since he carried a Walther in a special pocket under his left arm. He was greeted by Giuliano, the manager.

"Bushmills," Dillon said. "General Ferguson will be joining me, and we'll want a bottle of Cristal then."

"I'll see to it personally."

There weren't that many people in. It was too early for the evening rush, and a Monday evening anyway. Dillon accepted the Bushmills from Giuliano and waited. A moment later, Ferguson joined him.

"So-no sign of the opposition?"

"Not as yet. Champagne?"

"I suppose so."

Dillon nodded to Giuliano, who smiled and spoke to a waiter who brought the Cristal in a bucket. Giuliano opened the bottle, Ferguson did the tasting.

"Fine." He turned to Dillon. "I've had two phone calls with Tony Villiers. Let me tell you about them."

Afterwards, Dillon said, "Still nothing concrete. But Tony smells something, too. That's good enough for me."

Ferguson looked around. "Still no sign of her. You could be wrong, Sean."

"It's been known to happen. But not tonight, I think." He smiled. "I know what'll bring her."

He walked over to the pride of the bar, the extraordinary mirrored grand piano that had once belonged to Liberace, sat down, and lifted the lid. Giuliano came over with his gla.s.s of Cristal.

"All right with you?" Dillon asked.

"Of course. It's always a pleasure to hear you play. The pianist isn't in until eight."

Dillon started with a Gershwin melody, just as Harry and Billy Salter appeared at the bar entrance. Harry, who was into Savile Row suits that season, wore a navy blue chalk stripe, the kind of thing beloved of bank presidents. Billy wore an expensive-looking black bomber jacket and black slacks. They crossed to the bar and Ferguson said, "Good G.o.d, what are you rogues doing here?"

"My idea," Dillon called.

"And mine, General." Harry sat down. "Dillon's filled us in on everything."

"d.a.m.n you, Sean, that's totally out of order," Ferguson said.

"Come off it, General, as far as the Countess of Loch Dhu is concerned, we're in this together, the four of us, all tarred with the same brush."

"Dead right," Harry said. "So I'll have a gla.s.s of champagne with you and await events."

Dillon called. "Tell them about Tony Villiers."

"Oh, all right." And Ferguson did.

More people had come in, scattered around the room at various tables. Billy walked to the piano and leaned on it. Dillon was playing "A Foggy Day in London Town."

"I like that," Billy said. "'I was a stranger in the city.'"

"'Out of town were the people I knew.'" Dillon smiled. "You're looking good, Billy."

"Never mind the soft soap. What do you think she's playing at?"

"I've no idea. Why don't you ask her? She's just come in."

Billy turned and found Kate Rashid standing at the top of the steps, Rupert Dauncey beside her. She wore a black trouser suit, her hair tied back, a pair of very large diamond studs, and no other jewelry. Rupert wore a single-breasted navy blue blazer and gray slacks, a scarf at his neck.

Billy turned back. "Seeing her reminds me: There's something I always wanted to ask you, Dillon. You never married. Are you bent or something?"

Dillon spluttered and then started to laugh. When he was in control, he said, "It's simple, Billy. I'm always drawn to the wrong women."

"You mean the bad ones."

"And the Hannah Bernsteins of this world wouldn't touch me with a bargepole, not with my wicked past. Now if we could postpone this discussion of my s.e.xual proclivity for a while, here she comes."

Kate Rashid approached and Billy went and stood behind his uncle. She pa.s.sed the group at the table and moved to the piano. Rupert lit a cigarette.

"Very nice, Dillon," she said.

"I told you once before, Kate: Good barroom piano is all. I take it this is the famous Rupert Dauncey?"

"Of course. Rupert, the famous Sean Dillon."

They nodded, then Dillon shook a cigarette from a pack of Marlboros and put it in his mouth one-handed. Dauncey offered him a light and Dillon moved into another number. "You recognize this one, Kate?"

"Of course. 'Our Love Is Here to Stay.'"

"I wanted you to feel at home. Why don't you say h.e.l.lo to the boys?"

"Why not, indeed." She turned to the table. "Why, General Ferguson, what a pleasant surprise. I don't think you've met my cousin, Rupert Dauncey."

Ferguson said, "No, but I feel I know him well." He shook Dauncey's hand.

"A pleasure, General."

"Join us for a gla.s.s of champagne."

"Thank you," Kate Rashid said, and Dauncey pulled a chair forward and seated her. "You'll be fascinated by the General's friends, Rupert. Mr. Salter here is a gangster, but no ordinary gangster. For years, he was one of the most important guvnors, as they call it, in the East End of London. Isn't that so, Mr. Salter? Billy here is his nephew, another gangster."

Billy didn't say a word but simply looked at her, his face pale, and left it to his uncle.

"If you say so, Countess," Harry said, and turned to Rupert. "We know all about you, son, you do a good act."

"I'll take that as a compliment, coming from you, Mr. Salter."

Rupert drank some champagne and Dillon came back and joined them. "So what do you want, Kate?"

"Why, Dillon, nothing-nothing at all. I thought it was you who wanted to see me. You left your calling card, after all, and I wouldn't want to disappoint you, of all people." She picked up her gla.s.s of Cristal and emptied it in a single swallow. "But I'm hungry, and I don't want to eat here. Where should we go, Rupert?"