Flyaway / Windfall. Desmond Bagley
Читать онлайн книгу.
were here. One time she got into trouble in the Tademaït – that’s about 700 kilometres north of here. Damn place fries your brains out on a hot day. Wasn’t bad trouble but could have gotten worse. Anyway, I helped her out of it and she was grateful. Offered me a job in Algiers but I said I wasn’t going to the damned Maghreb, so she asked me to help her out in Tam. That went on for a couple of years, then once, when she came down to Tam, we got to talking, and the upshot was that she staked me to my place in the Aïr, down in Niger.’
‘What do you do down there?’ I asked curiously. Byrne had to earn a living somehow; he just couldn’t go around helping strangers in distress.
‘I’m a camel breeder,’ he said. ‘And I run a few salt caravans across to Bilma.’
I didn’t know where Bilma was and a salt caravan sounded improbable, but the camel breeding I could understand. ‘How many camels have you got?’
He paused, obviously calculating. ‘Pack animals and breeding stock together, I’d say about three hundred. I had more but the goddamn drought hit me hard. Seven lean years, just like in the Bible. But I’m building up the herd again.’
‘Who is looking after them now?’
He smiled. ‘If this was Arizona you’d call Mokhtar’s brother the ranch foreman. His name is Hamiada.’ He stretched. ‘Got film for your camera?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s okay then. I reckon I’ll go to sleep.’
‘Aren’t you going to eat?’
‘We’ll eat well in Tam tomorrow. There’s just enough chow left to feed Mokhtar and Billson until we come back. Wake me at midnight.’ With that he rolled over and was instantly asleep.
So I went hungry that night but I didn’t mind. I looked around and saw that Mokhtar was asleep, as was Billson. It seemed as though I had been elected to stand first watch.
At about eleven Billson awoke and was coherent for the first time. He muttered a little, then said clearly, ‘It’s dark. Why is it dark?’
‘It’s night time,’ I said softly.
‘Who are you?’ His voice was weak but quite clear.
‘My name is Stafford. Don’t worry about it now, Paul; you’re quite safe.’
He didn’t say anything for some time, then he said, ‘He shot me.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘But you’re all right now. Go to sleep and we’ll talk tomorrow.’
He fell silent and when I looked at him closely five minutes later I saw that his eyes were closed and that he was breathing deeply and evenly.
At midnight I woke Byrne and told him about it, then went to sleep myself.
We didn’t have much time for Billson in the morning because Byrne wanted to get back to Tam and we still had to go to the mound of Abalessa to take photographs, and so we had time to exchange only a few words. Mine were consoling – Byrne’s were more in the nature of threats.
Billson was very weak, but rational. He had some more of the soup that Mokhtar prepared and managed to eat a few bits of the meat. As I knelt next to him he said, ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Max Stafford. Your sister sent me to find you.’
‘Alix? How did she know where I’d gone?’
‘It wasn’t too hard to figure,’ I said drily. ‘I suppose you know you did a damn silly thing – bolting like that.’
He swallowed. ‘I suppose so,’ he said reluctantly. He looked past me. ‘Who are those Arabs?’
‘They’re not Arabs. Now listen, Paul. You made a bigger mistake when you went into Atakor without a permit. Did you know that you didn’t have enough petrol to get back to Tam?’ His eyes widened a little and he shook his head. ‘And then you were shot. Who shot you – and why?’
His face went blank and then he frowned and shook his head. ‘I don’t remember much about that.’
‘Never mind,’ I said gently. ‘All you have to do is to get well. Paul, if the police find you they’ll arrest you and you’ll go to prison. We are trying to stop that happening.’
I turned as Byrne called, ‘Are you ready?’ There was impatience in his voice.
‘Coming.’ I stood up and said to Billson, ‘Rest easy.’
Byrne was more forthright. A Tuareg in full fig can be pretty awe-inspiring but, to the recumbent Billson, Byrne towering over him must have seemed a mile high. There is also something particularly menacing about a man who utters threats when you can’t see his face.
Byrne said, ‘Now, listen, stupid. You stay here with this man and you don’t do a goddamn thing. If you step out of line just once Mokhtar will cut your crazy head off. Hear me?’
Paul nodded weakly. I noted that Mokhtar was wearing his sword and that the rifle was prominently displayed. Byrne said, ‘If you do one more screwball thing we’ll leave you for the vultures and the fennecs.’ He strode away and I followed him to the Toyota.
On top of the mound of Abalessa were the ruins of a stone building, very unTuareglike. ‘French?’ I asked. ‘Foreign Legion?’
‘Hell, no!’ said Byrne. ‘Older than that. There’s one theory that this was the southernmost post of the Romans; it has a likeness to some of the Roman forts up north. Another theory is that it was built by the remnants of a defeated legion that was driven down here. The Romans did lose a couple of legions in North Africa.’ He shrugged. ‘But they’re just theories.’
‘What’s this about Tin Hinan?’
‘Over here.’ I followed him. ‘She was found down there.’ I peered into the small stone chamber which had obviously been covered by a hand-worked stone slab that lay nearby. ‘It’s still a mystery. The Tuareg have a story that a couple called Yunis and Izubahil were sent from Byzantium to rule over them; that would be about the year 1400. Some of the jewellery found on her was East Roman of that period, but some of the coins dated back to the fifth and sixth century. And there were some iron arm rings which the Byzantines didn’t wear.’
He changed his tone and said abruptly, ‘We’re not here for a history lesson – get busy with your snapshots. Put me in one of them, and I’ll do the same for you. Fool tourists are always doing that.’
So I ran off a spool of pictures and Byrne took a couple of me and we went away although I should have liked to have stayed longer. I have always liked a good mystery which, I suppose, was the reason I was in the Sahara anyway.
Abalessa was about sixty miles from Tammanrasset and we made it in just about two and a half hours, being helped during the last stretch by the asphalted road from the airstrip to Tam. That ten-mile bit was the only paved road I saw in the whole Sahara and I never found out why it had been put there.
Byrne pulled up outside the Hotel Tin Hinan. ‘Go in and make your peace,’ he said. ‘I’m going to nose around. I’ll meet you back here in, maybe, an hour. You can have a beer while you’re waiting.’
‘Am I staying here tonight?’
‘No, you’ll be with me. But you’ll probably have to pay for your room reservation. Give me your film.’
So I took the film from the camera, gave it to him and got out, and he drove away blasting the horn. There was the predictable confusion in the hotel with reproaches which I soothed by paying the full room charge even though I had not used it. The manager’s French was bad but good enough for me to hear that the police had been looking for me. I promised faithfully