LITMIR.BIZ

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defused a hundred and two bombs. Too bad it wasn’t a hundred and three.’ He patted the arm of the wheelchair.

      ‘I know,’ Dillon said. ‘You know, considering I was on the other side, I sometimes wonder why you put up with me.’

      ‘You were never a bomb man, Sean. Anyway, I like you.’ He shrugged. ‘By the way, if you want a drink, there’s a bottle of white wine in the fridge over there. It’s all I’m allowed.’

      Dillon groaned. ‘God help me, but it will do to take along.’ He got the bottle from the fridge. ‘Jesus, Roper, it’s so cheap it’s got a screw top.’

      ‘Don’t moan about it, pour it. I’m a reserve officer on a pension.’

      Dillon obeyed, and put a glass at Roper’s right hand while Roper played with the keys. Dillon took a swallow and made a face. ‘I think someone made this in the backyard. What are you looking at now?’

      ‘Rupert Dauncey. Quite a character, but nothing we don’t know about him already. There’s something about him, though, a ruthlessness, always on the edge. There’s a dark side to that one.’

      ‘Ah, well there’s a dark side to all of us. Can you tell if he was with Kate on the Irish trip?’

      ‘There are Special Branch regulations regarding passengers on executive jets. He wasn’t on board. He’s a comparatively new arrival to her entourage, remember.’

      ‘I suppose so.’

      Roper drank some wine. ‘However, he is on board tomorrow morning at ten o’clock, with the Countess. Would you like to know where they’re going?’

      ‘Where?’

      ‘Hazar.’

      ‘Hazar, hmm? That means Hamam airport. You know, the RAF built it in the old days. There’s only one runway, but it can take anything, even a Hercules. Check on something for me. Last time I was there, we used an outfit called Carver Air Transport. See if they’re still there.’

      Roper tapped his keys. ‘Yes, they are. Ben Carver? Ex-Squadron 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 pan 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. Honour 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 assault 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 got 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?’

      ‘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. As he lit another cigarette, 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 button. ‘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 Life Guards 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 in the Empty Quarter by helicopter. But you know that, you’ve been there yourself.’

      ‘Is anything going on there, Tony?’

      ‘I wouldn’t know. These days I’m forbidden by the Sultan’s decree 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 assume 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.’

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