He waited until they were in position and then stepped from behind a tree and went slowly forward. He stopped a yard or so away from the fire. The Bedouin was stirring something in the pot. He laughed, looked up to call to the men washing, and saw Kane. The laughter died in his throat.

'Do as you're told and you won't be harmed,' Kane told him in Arabic.

The man stood up slowly and shrugged. 'I am not a fool.'

He was older than Kane had at first thought, with a fine intelligent face, seamed with wrinkles, and an iron-grey beard. His three companions waded out of the pool to join him, and Jamal and Cunningham moved in behind them.

'Where are the others?' Kane demanded.

'It was thought that you were dead,' the old man said. 'The two Franks and their men left in the trucks before first light. The Yemenis went at dawn.'

'Why have you stayed?'

'We are Rashid,' the old man said simply. 'We do not abandon our kindred. My cousin is lying in one of the tents. You put a bullet in his shoulder last night. One of the Franks removed it before they left.'

'And the women?'

The old man shrugged. 'They went in the trucks.'

Kane turned to Cunningham. 'Did you manage to get all that?'

The Englishman nodded. 'What do we do now?'

'The only thing we can do - get after them.' Kane turned back to the old Rashid. 'You'll have to help us.'

There was a murmur of discontent from the other three, and the old man stilled them by raising a hand. 'Why should we? You are our enemies.'

'Because you haven't any choice,' Kane told them, raising his sub-machine gun. 'After we've eaten, you can select your three best camels, and the Somali is an expert, by the way.'

The old Rashid shrugged. 'As Allah wills it.' His three companions sat down sullenly, legs crossed, and he poured coffee into two battered tin mugs, which he presented courteously to Kane and Cunningham.

Kane drank some of the coffee gratefully and Cunningham said, 'But we haven't a hope in h.e.l.l of catching them.'

Kane nodded, 'I know, but if we make good time to Bir el Madani and get a truck from Jordan, we stand a good chance of reaching Dahrein before they leave.'

'By G.o.d, I hope you're right,' Cunningham said fervently. 'When I think of Ruth...' His voice trailed away and he quickly swallowed some coffee.

Kane tried to sound confident. 'You don't have to worry about a thing. Skiros won't be in any hurry to leave Dahrein. There's no reason why he should be.'

But inside he wasn't so sure. Skiros must be a worried man. What else could explain his sudden departure? Perhaps he'd realized that his run of luck was ending, and like a good gambler, was simply getting out while he was still ahead of the game.

Kane narrowed his eyes as he looked up into the blue vault of the sky and watched a buzzard poise before wheeling down in great circles. One could never be sure of anything in this life. If this country had taught him anything, it had taught him that.

FIFTEEN.

THEY LEFT AN HOUR LATER on the three camels Jamal considered to be in the best condition. Kane and Cunningham wore the head-dress and loose outer robes of the Bedouin, reluctantly provided by the old Rashid and his companions, and Jamal carried two goatskins of water securely looped over the pommel of his saddle.

Kane was riding a bull camel, a large and powerful black animal which moved across the flat plain outside the gorge at an incredible rate.

Pieces of twisted metal and fuselage from the Catalina were strewn over a wide area, and as they pa.s.sed the fire-blackened wreckage, he looked at it in wonder. It seemed impossible that they could have destroyed it so completely, and already the memory of the incident had lost its sharpness as if it had never happened.

As they left the plain and entered the sand dunes, he lifted a fold of his head-cloth across his face as a protection against the fierce heat that rose to meet them.

The desert rolled ahead in great waves of sand as far as the eye could see, and he eased himself into a more comfortable position in the wooden saddle and urged the camel on. Speed was the only thing which could help them now. That and the fact that Skiros would not be expecting pursuit.

He glanced back and saw Jamal, close behind, followed by Cunningham, his face half-covered by a fold of his robe. The Englishman raised a hand in a half-salute, and Kane turned and concentrated on the trail ahead.

The camel never faltered in its stride, great legs covering the ground tirelessly, and he lapsed into a state that was somewhere between sleeping and waking, eyes half-closed against the glare.

He wondered what the German's next move would be. He would probably make for Dahrein, secure in the knowledge that no one was left to follow him. He could afford to spend several days there, clearing up his affairs before moving out ahead of any enquiries set on foot by the American Consul.

What he would do with the women was debatable. Kane recalled the conversation he had overheard outside the tent on the previous night. What had Skiros said? That he looked upon Marie Ferret as a personal challenge.

Kane shivered at the thought and pushed it firmly away from him. Sufficient unto the day. For the moment it was enough to concentrate on reaching Bir el Madani. He slouched into a more comfortable position in the saddle and urged the camel on.

The morning pa.s.sed as in a dream and they rolled on into the afternoon like great ships floating over the sand. On several occasions they had to dismount to lead their camels up the steep sides of some of the larger dunes, and they stopped once to share their water and a handful of dried dates.

Cunningham looked tired and his eyes were sore and red-rimmed, the thin, sensitive face coated with sand. Kane swallowed his ration of water, grimacing slightly at the acrid, unpleasant taste, and looked anxiously at him. 'You managing okay?'

Cunningham's face split into a tight grin. 'A little tired, but I'll be fine. Don't forget I pa.s.sed this way going in the opposite direction.'

They remounted and rode on. The sun was high in the heavens, beating fiercely across their backs with a flail of fire, and Kane bowed his head on his chest and let the camel find its own way. He was tired - very tired. Too much had happened during the past three or four days. Too much for any man.

He decided that he must have ridden unconscious for the rest of the afternoon, because he was suddenly aware that the sun was dropping in the west and a slight wind stung his face. Jamal had ridden up beside him and was pulling at the reins of his camel.

Kane slid to the ground and sat down, shaking his head from side to side to bring himself awake. His mouth was dry as a bone and full of dust and, as Cunningham threw himself wearily down beside him, Jamal produced one of the goatskins and handed it round.

They had two good swallows each and then it was empty. The Somali tossed the useless skin away and walked back to his camel and stood holding its bridle, staring impa.s.sively into the distance.

Cunningham's face was drawn and haggard, the skin stretched tightly across the cheekbones. When he spoke, his voice was a dry croak like an old man's. 'What are we going to do - keep going through the night?'

Kane nodded. 'The camels are in good condition. We'll be feeling the shortage of water before they are. We stand a better chance" during the cool of the night.'

'What about Skiros?'

Kane shrugged. 'That's another point. He'll probably make camp soon.'

He struggled wearily to his feet, and the wind lifted sand into his face and then Jamal was moving towards him quickly, eyes flashing.

The Somali cupped a hand to one ear in an unmistak- able gesture, and Kane listened. Faintly, borne on the wind, came the sound of voices in the distance.

Excitement moved inside him, and the weariness dropped from his shoulders like an old cloak. 'Did you hear it?' he asked Cunningham.

The Englishman nodded. 'Perhaps something went wrong and they've made camp sooner than they intended.'

'Whatever the reason, they're in for one h.e.l.l of a surprise,' Kane said.