Beloved Sheikh. ALEXANDRA SELLERS
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the archaeological team followed, calling questions.
Rafi curbed his impatience to be gone, told them what had occurred, and gave orders for some to take the land vehicles in a search that would be virtually useless. Even if they could find the trail, the land vehicles would not be able to follow everywhere a horse led.
“He galloped east till he was out of sight,” he said. “But he is not a fool. He might be headed anywhere.” Seconds later he set off running across the sand back towards the helicopter, with Arif and Ammar silently pacing him.
“What a fool to have set no guard tonight!” he berated himself as they flung themselves into the cockpit and Ammar started the rotors slowly beating.
“Shall we go to his camp, or follow his trail?” demanded Arif as they lifted off.
“Follow his trail,” said Rafi briefly, straining to see against the deep moonshadows on the desert.
“His camp is still on the other side of the river, is it not?” Ammar said, as he flicked on the landing light. All three peered out, but this was not a military helicopter and it was not a powerful searchlight. “He can only get across if he goes to the bridge. Why not meet him there, Lord?”
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