Sheba. Part 22

'Okay, you're the boss,' Kane said. 'There's one thing you might tell us before you go. What happened to Mrs Cunningham's husband? After all, he's the reason we're here.'

Selim shrugged. 'He is alive and well - for the moment.'

Ruth Cunningham moved forward. 'When can I see him? Oh, please let me see him.'

Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled. Selim looked down into her face as if seeing her for the first time. After a moment or two, he shook his head slowly. 'That is not possible at the moment. If you behave yourself, you may see him later. You must wait here.'

'But for what?' Kane demanded. 'A firing squad, a slit throat or a new arrival?'

Selim smiled thinly. 'I am not here to answer questions.'

He turned and walked away quickly, and Kane took the crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket. There was one left and he drew smoke deep into his lungs as he looked up at the statue.

It was like nothing he had ever seen before, carved from solid stone. The lips were full and sensual, and the eyes slanted upwards above high cheekbones and were closed as if in sleep. It had a strong affinity with the statues of the Hindu G.o.ddess Kali, which he had seen many times in Indian temples.

He frowned slightly, his mind grappling with the academic side of the problem, and his eyes wandered to the high altar, noticing the carved fire-bowl. He remembered the Roman cavalrymen and the old priestess who had remained to tend the flame, and time seemed to have no meaning. It was a circle, turning upon itself endlessly.

Marie moved beside him and said softly, 'It gives me a strange feeling to know that he must have stood here - Alexias, I mean.'

Kane nodded without speaking and they stayed there for a moment, side by side, thinking the same thoughts, and then there was a sudden commotion in the entrance.

As Kane turned, a man in dust-covered khaki clothes moved towards them. He wore an Arab head-cloth and sand goggles covered his eyes. When he was a few feet away, he paused and regarded them silently for a moment before removing the goggles. It was Professor Muller.

He bowed stiffly. 'I trust you ladies have not been seriously inconvenienced?'

Kane took a quick step forward, but before he could speak, a familiar voice said, 'Ah my good friend, Captain Kane. So you managed to get here after all?' and Skiros stepped out of the gloom.

ELEVEN.

IT WAS ALMOST NOON when the two guards came to the temple for Kane. Marie and Ruth Cunningham had been removed earlier that morning, and shortly afterwards, Jamal had also been taken away.

Alone in the temple with his guards, Kane had spent the time going over events again and again in his mind, but it was no use. He couldn't make sense of any of it. If Muller had stumbled across the temple by chance, then why hadn't he announced his discovery? It would have made him world-famous. And what about Skiros and Selim? Where did they fit in? The problem offered no solution and he waited with mounting impatience until the two Bedouins came for him.

Emerging from the cool half-light of the temple, he paused at the top of the steps, momentarily dazzled by the strong sun. One of his guards pushed him forward so that he stumbled down several steps, almost losing his balance.

The two men seemed to find the incident amusing and Kane, by a supreme effort of will, choked back his anger and walked docilely between them, his eyes keenly searching the valley as they advanced.

The rock walls were covered with inscriptions and at several points he noticed the dark openings of caves. Quite suddenly, the floor of the gorge dipped slightly, and beneath them in a hollow he saw an encampment of several tents beside a green oasis of palm trees.

It was the numbers of men and camels which surprised Kane as he moved down into the camp. On every side, men sweated in the hot sun, loading the great beasts with heavy boxes as if preparing to move out.

He lost count of the tribes, represented. Half-naked Yemenis in coloured turbans, their bodies tattooed and smeared with indigo dye, Rashid Bedouins, Musabein, Bal Harith - they were all there. As his guards hustled him through the throng, heads turned curiously.

They halted outside the largest tent and motioned him inside. Kane pulled back the flap and entered. Muller was sitting at a small, folding table, drinking coffee and examining a potsherd with a magnifying gla.s.s. He looked up and smiled. 'Ah, Kane, come in! Come in!'

Kane sat down on a camp stool opposite, and Muller lifted the pot and smiled again. 'Coffee?' Kane nodded and the German filled a cup and pushed it across.

Kane leaned forward, arms resting on the table. 'What have you done with the women?'

Muller looked pained. 'We are not barbarians. They are under guard in a nearby tent. They will find it more comfortable than the temple.'

'That's most considerate of you,' Kane said. 'And what have you done with Cunningham?'

'You will be joining him presently,' Muller said calmly. 'But first, Skiros wishes to see you.'

Kane said, 'What the h.e.l.l is all this about, anyway?'

Muller got to his feet and reached for his hat. 'But that is why I sent for you, my friend. That is what you are about to find out.'

He pushed back the tent flap and Kane followed him. They moved through the oasis, climbing up towards one side of the gorge, the two Bedouins at their heels, and men pa.s.sed them going down to the oasis, heavy boxes on their shoulders.

They mounted a narrow ramp which seemed to be cut out of solid rock. At the top there was the entrance to a cave with a sentry standing beside it, and men worked stripped to the waist, dragging out more boxes, which they stacked ready to be carried down to the encampment. Muller brushed past them and Kane followed.

The cave was of no great size, but there seemed to be a variety of technical equipment piled on every side.

Skiros was sitting before a complicated short-wave transmitting and receiving set. As they came in, he removed the earphones from his head and swivelled on his stool. 'Ah, Captain Kane. So you have arrived?'

There was a pleasant smile on his face as if this were some kind of party and Kane an eagerly awaited guest.

'Quite a set-up you have here,' Kane said.

Skiros nodded. 'We are rather proud of it.' He took a packet from his breast pocket and held it out. 'Cigarette?'

Kane took one and said, 'Don't you think it's time someone told me what this is all about?'

Skiros nodded. 'But of course. Why else are you here?' He gestured towards the stacked boxes. 'Help yourself.'

The boxes were made of metal and painted a dull grey. Kane pulled one forward and undipped the lid. It was expertly packed with rifles, new and shining with grease from the factory. The next one contained submachine guns.

He took one out and examined it closely. It had been manufactured in Germany. He turned, his eyes hard. 'I underestimated you. I thought maybe you were smuggling archaeological finds out of the country illegally, but this..."

Skiros smiled complacently. 'Yes, it's quite something, uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu(uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuI C U T3 13 A uuu..uuuu.uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

^ |-| JH J-J ft isn't it? We were extremely lucky finding such a place, thanks to Muller.'

'Until Cunningham arrived. That must have been quite a shock.'

Skiros shook his head. 'A slight inconvenience, that's all.'

Kane turned again to the stacked cases of arms and kicked one of the boxes. 'I suppose this is why the British have been having so much trouble with the tribes on the Oman border?'

Skiros smiled. 'We do our small best, but the arms are simply a payment to the tribesmen for helping us. What they do with them is their own business.

Kane looked at the boxes again. 'Those sub-machine guns are German.'

'MP40S, the best.'