The Lost Army of Cambyses (60 page)

scarf down to reveal his face.

498

'There is very little time,' he said, bending to

pick up the guard's gun. 'I am a policeman, I am

here to get you out.' He handed the gun to Daniel.

'Can you use this?'

'I think so.'

'How did you get here?' asked Tara. 'How

many of you are there?'

'Just me,' said Khalifa. 'There's no time to

explain. In a few minutes they'll have finished

prayers and the camp will be swarming with

people again. You must go now, while you have

the chance.'

He put his head out through the flap, looked

around, turned back to them.

'Go north up the valley, past the excavations.

Stay close to the bottom of the westward dune.

That way you'll be out of the line of sight of the

lookouts above. Go as fast as you can.'

'What about you?' asked Tara.

Khalifa ignored the question, reaching into his

robe and pulling out the phone and GPS unit.

'Take these. Once you're clear of the guards call

for help. Your co-ordinates will show up on the

unit here. You just press—'

'I know how it works,' said Daniel, taking the

unit and handing the phone to Tara.

'What about you?' she repeated, louder this

time.

Khalifa turned to her. 'I have business here,' he

said. 'It is not your concern.'

'We can't leave you.'

'Go,' he said, pushing them towards the

entrance. 'Go now. North, and close to the left-

hand dune.'

499

'I don't know who you are,' said Daniel, 'but

thank you. I hope we'll meet again one day.'

'Insha-Allah.
Now go.'

They ducked through the flap. On the other side

Tara turned and, leaning forward, kissed Khalifa

swiftly on each cheek.

'Thank you,' she whispered.

He nodded and pushed her away. 'I am sorry

about your father, Miss Mullray. I saw him lecture

once. He was magnificent. Now go, please.'

Their eyes locked for a second and then Tara

and Daniel ran off through the tents. Khalifa

watched until they had disappeared and then

turned and moved swiftly in the opposite

direction.

He made his way towards the south end of the

camp, stopping every now and then to listen to

the murmur of prayers ahead of him, gauging how

much time he had. A couple of minutes. Not much

more. A translucent band of pink light had

appeared over the ridge of the eastern dune,

widening all the time, its glow mingling with and

slowly superseding that of the arc lamps.

He kept going until he reached the point where

the tents began to run out, giving way to a con-

fusion of equipment. Beyond, fifty metres away,

lines of men were kneeling on the sand, their lips

trembling with prayer. He slipped behind a stack

of crates and cast around for a way of creating a

diversion.

There were several bales of straw nearby and,

500

beside them, a solitary fuel drum. He looked at the

wooden boxes behind him, each with a skull-and-

crossbones stencilled on the side, and then,

crossing to the drum, unscrewed its cap. A wisp of

vapour drifted out. Diesel, as he'd thought. He

grasped the rim and tipped the drum up, sloshing

its contents out over the nearest bale. He con-

tinued pouring until the straw was sodden, then

dragged the bale back to the crates, pushing it

right up against them. He repeated the process

twice more, petrol splashing over his shoes and

robe as he worked.

He was just pushing the third bale into place

when a sudden swell of noise told him the prayers

were ending. At the same time there was a shout

from the dune-top above. He spun, lifting his gun,

thinking he'd been spotted. Then there was a clatter

of gunfire from the other end of the camp and he

realized it wasn't him who had been seen, but Tara

and Daniel.

'Fa'r!'
he hissed. 'Shit!'

He turned back towards the mass of damp

straw and, fumbling in his pocket, pulled out his

lighter. The gunfire intensified. There was a

commotion in front of him now too as the crowd

of worshippers broke ranks and began running

back towards the camp. He squatted and held the

lighter to the base of one of the bales.

'I wouldn't if I were you.'

The voice came from behind him.

'Just drop the lighter and stand up. And no

sudden moves.'

For a moment Khalifa remained motionless, the

world seeming to condense around him, then he

501

closed his eyes, drew a breath and flicked his

thumb down on the barrel of the lighter. There

was a click and a spark, but no flame. A spurt of

bullets chewed up the sand around him.

'I said drop the lighter. I won't repeat myself.'

Defeated, Khalifa opened his hand and allowed

the lighter to fall. More gunfire from the far side

of the camp.

'Now stand and turn around,' said the voice.

'Nice and slow. And get your arms in the air.'

The detective did as he was told. Ten metres

away, a machine-gun in his hands, stood Dravic.

'You stupid little cunt,' snarled the German.

Suddenly there were men everywhere. Dravic

shouted and three of them grabbed Khalifa and

forced him down onto his knees.

'So this is our brave policeman, is it?' said the

giant, coming forward. 'Our very own little Omar

Sharif.'

He stopped in front of Khalifa and, raising his

hand, smashed it across his mouth, splitting the

lip.

'What did you think you were going to do?

Arrest us all single-handed? You lot are even more

stupid than I thought you were.'

Khalifa said nothing, just stared up at him,

blood streaming across his chin. The sound of

gunfire was growing more intense. A man ran into

the clearing and said something to Dravic, who

glared down at Khalifa.

'You'll pay for this,' he growled. 'Believe me,

you'll pay.'

He signalled to one of the men, who picked up

Khalifa's lighter and handed it over. The giant

502

took it and leaned forward, nostrils flaring, sniff-

ing the air.

'Now what's this I smell?' he said. 'This strange

odour all over your lovely black robes. Could it be

petrol?'

He grinned sadistically. The men around him

laughed.

'We have been careless, haven't we!'

He drew back a little and, holding the lighter

just in front of Khalifa's chest, struck the flint. A

yellowy-blue flame leaped up.

'It's a knack, you see. All in the thumb.'

He wafted the flame back and forth, moving it

closer and closer to the petrol-stained material.

Khalifa struggled, but the men on either side held

him firm. The flame was almost on the hem of the

robe.

'Stop this! Stop it now!'

The voice came from beyond the crowd, sharp

and authoritative. Dravic's eyes rolled upwards and,

muttering, he withdrew the lighter and stepped

back. The circle of men opened to reveal Sayf al-

Tha'r. He remained where he was for a long

moment, staring at Khalifa, and then came for-

ward, stopping in front of the detective and

looking down at him. 'Hello, Yusuf.'

'You know him?' asked Dravic, surprised.

'Indeed,' said Sayf al-Tha'r. 'He is my little

brother.'

They hurried through the camp, flitting from tent

to tent and angling towards the foot of the

503

left-hand dune, as Khalifa had told them. Daniel

led, Tara followed, adrenalin pumping through

her, the aching of her body forgotten for the

moment.

At the camp's northern edge they stopped.

Ahead the mayhem of the excavations stretched

off into the distance, still and silent in the growing

light of day, heaps of artefacts strewn across the

ground like the wreckage of some enormous plane

crash. They could see guards strung along the

dune-top to their right, but they were facing away

from them, eastwards, towards the rising sun.

Those above were lost behind the angle of the

ridge.

'OK?' said Daniel.

'OK.'

They started forward again, hugging the bottom

of the slope, the pyramid rock looming huge

ahead of them. With every step away from the

camp, every step they weren't spotted, Tara felt

they were stretching their luck just that little bit

further. It had been years since she'd last prayed,

not since she was a child. Now, without even

being aware of it, she began mumbling to herself,

pleading with whatever power would listen to

protect them, to let them get away.

'Please don't let us be seen,' she whispered.

'Please don't let us be seen. Please don't let us be

seen.'

It worked for fifty metres. Then, however, as

they came level with the beginning of the ex-

cavation trench, there was a shout from above and

an angry crack of gunfire.

'Shit,' hissed Daniel.

504

The shout was taken up by other voices and

there was more gunfire. Forty pairs of eyes

swivelled towards them. Daniel swung and fired.

'Back,' he shouted. 'We have to go back.'

'No!'

'There's no cover here!'

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back the

way they had come. Men were leaping down

the dunes to either side of them now, shooting

wildly. Bullets cracked past Tara's head, thudded

into the sand, smashed into crates and ancient

armour. Daniel unleashed another volley of gun-

fire, and then they were back among the tents,

their pursuers lost momentarily behind a mesh of

canvas.

'What now?' panted Tara.

'I don't know. I don't know.'

His voice was desperate.

They ran forward, scrambling through the tents

and equipment, hunted. The shouts were growing

louder behind them. And in front too. They were

caught in the jaws of a closing vice. There was

nowhere for them to go. Fear pounded in Tara's

ears. Everything had become a blur.

They skidded round the side of a tent and there,

standing alone in a clearing, was a single dune

bike. They ran over to it. The keys were in the

ignition. Without a word Daniel thrust the gun

into her arms, leaped astride the saddle and

slammed the kickstart. The engine sputtered, but

didn't catch. He slammed it again. Nothing.

'Come on!' he cried. 'Start, you bastard.'

The shouts were just a couple of tents away

now, all around, a tightening noose of sound.

505

Frantic, Tara held the gun in front of her and

fired, the weapon leaping violently in her hands, a

hail of bullets puncturing canvas and wood. She

loosed her finger, swung, fired again, in the

opposite direction this time, emptying the clip.

There was another clip taped to it, upside down,

and, yanking the finished magazine from its slot,

she flipped it over and jammed the new one in its

place. The bike roared into life.

'Get on!' screamed Daniel.

She leaped up behind him, his hand twisting

back on the throttle before her backside had even

hit the saddle. A spray of sand lashed out from