enemy anything that might be useful — and took off after Langers and Gus.
They pushed it hard for an hour. Contact was broken with the Tuaregs but he knew it wouldn't stay that way long. When dawn came the nomads would be after them.
'Take five,' Carl ordered. 'Dominic, set out some trip wires on the back trail. The rest of you spread out where you can rest and still see what's going on. Let's not get careless now.
'Egon, get Sims on the radio. Tell him to move out. We'll be at the rendezvous point by 1100 hours and we'll check in again with him at 0900. Then have him relay the info to Monpelier. Got it?' Egon repeated the message, took the radio, and began to send word.
Sunni Ali was relieved to see that at least the raiders had not gotten far enough back in the tunnels to find his vehicles. They would be needed shortly, but first he had to do some thinking.
Retiring to his tent, he took from a mahogany case his own maps of the region. Time and movement were the keys. Once he had the direction of the enemy's route confirmed, then he'd be able to plan. Logic was now needed. Eyes poring over the map, he checked it against his mind and memory.
The raiders were on foot and had gone back into the mountain. They must have transport waiting for them somewhere. Their commander must know that if they stayed even one day in the area they would be found. Their job was to get in and get out as fast as possible with their prize. Therefore they must be heading to a place where they would be retrieved by either ground transport or aircraft.
Considering their rate of movement and the maximum distance they could travel in a given period of time, and he would give heavy odds that he was right about the time factor, it was inconceivable that the raiders would plan on spending more than twenty-four hours in his land. The options would be severely reduced once he had their direction confirmed. There could only be so many places from which to leave the mountain and reach a site where transport could pick them up. When they arrived there, Sunni Ali would be waiting for them with his own armored cars and heavy weapons.
The lone Tuareg moved between the ancient boulders. For a brief moment his eyes rose to the distant horizon. That was his mistake. The trip wire was broken and a grenade blew his left leg off at the knee. Sunni Ali had his direction.
While he was waiting for such information, he had given orders that the Hanamogs and American jeeps be made ready. Their crews stood by. These men he had trained as carefully as the panzer crews had been trained in Germany during the early days of the war. They knew their jobs.
On his map Sunni Ali made a check mark where the booby trap had exploded. Soon he would have another mark on his map and with each one he would be closer to reclaiming that which was his. His radiomen had been given the order to contact all outposts. They were put on the alert for any ferengi in the area and were told to stop all forms of motor transport. Nothing was to go through or get out.
Sims was pushing it. Three times he'd had to stop and pull one of the Land Rovers out of sand traps. Wiping his goggles clean he stared hatefully at the mass of Mt. Baguezane. The great bloody thing seemed to go on forever. Graves pulled up alongside of him, yelling out through his window, 'Hey limey, did you see them?'
Wearily resigned to such verbal abuse, Sims responded sardonically, 'Of course I saw them, you great bleeding clot. Do you think I'm blind? What's bloody more important, I'm sure they saw us also. And if they did, we could be in for a real pisser, what?'
Shifting into low to climb the side of the wadi Graves yelled back, 'So what do you say we forgo this bit of pleasantry and try to reach our destination on time?'
Langers had moved to the rear. The explosion of a grenade had been clearly heard. It had echoed off the stones for miles. He wished they'd had more time to leave a false trail or take better efforts to conceal their movements but they didn't.
Mamud joined him. Shading his eyes with a hand, he looked back the way they had come. 'They are there and they are getting closer.'
Langers nodded. 'I know. How are the kids holding up?'
Mamud inclined his head down the trail they were taking. 'They are doing well enough. The boy is strong and eager, and the girl has a good heart but her legs are weak.'
Carl wasn't too concerned about that. If necessary he would have Gus carry them out on his back.
'I'm getting a bit worried about the time, Sharif. It would be best if we could slow up the pursuit a bit.'
Mamud knew what he was thinking, that the time could come very soon when someone would have to stay behind and fight a delaying action so the others could escape. That would, of course, be their last resort. But it was not yet necessary for such a thing to be done. They still had some time left.
He didn't tell Langers he had seen the figure of a man on their trail in the distance and another to their left flanking them. Langers had enough on his mind and there was nothing he could do about it anyway. Both were at least three kilometers away.
Sunni Ali took the lead half-track, which held his radio, and began to move out to the north, flanking the mountain. He had to make a half-circle to reach clear ground before he could straighten out his angle and run parallel. He didn't push it. To rush was to make mistakes.
He had another call from his scouts on Mt. Baguezane. The raiding party was still heading north. They had come across several other booby traps, but these had been avoided now that they were aware of them. Half an hour later another call came in from one of his scouting parties to the north, and he knew he was correct. Three Land Rovers had been seen heading south. From the route of the Land Rovers, the direction of the raiding party, and the few places at which they would come together, Sunni Ali began to reduce his options one by one.
Moving to the back of the Hanamog, he stood up behind the machine gun mount. An MG-34. It smelled of new oil. For a few minutes his heart sped up. He had a sense of deja vu, a taste of those great days when they'd first fought the British in Libya. The Afrika Korps had performed brilliantly. Though outnumbered, and with thin supplies, they had pushed the English back across the desert to the borders of Egypt.
It was good to feel the vibrations of the war machine beneath his feet again. To be on the hunt for the best of all game, men. In front of him, scouting in a fan, were his three American jeeps, useful little things which could go almost anywhere, but it was the half-tracks which were his babies. With him were twenty of his best men who, though they wore the robes of the nomad, had the discipline of the Afrika Korps instilled in them. They would follow orders to the end.
It was good: hot wind on his face, clear skies, and a hunt. He was almost thankful to whoever they were that they had come. He needed this kind of challenge to set his blood moving and to test himself. He would meet the challenge head-on.
Carl had not missed the Tuaregs trailing them. He turned to Mamud. 'Let's go, old friend. We have a way to travel yet before we can rest.'
They trotted till they caught up with the small column. The girl was weakening. It occurred to Carl for the first time that he had not taken a good look at the couple. Now that he had them, they were less important than before. The girl stumbled. A huge paw helped her gently to her feet. Carl called out to Gus. 'If she falls again, carry her.'
Carl moved up behind the young woman. She looked over her shoulder at the man who had rescued her and her husband from the cave. Timidly she attempted a smile, which failed. Even under the coating of dust the man's face had a quality to it, a detachment which frightened her somehow. Not that it was threatening; she didn't feel that. It was just… something.
Carl passed her, going up to the head of the column. As he did, he looked carefully at each of his men. They were breathing hard. Sweat streaks on their faces had cut through the dust, giving them an aged appearance.
Overhead he saw a pair of hungry vultures riding the air currents. 'Not today, if I can help it. You'll have to look elsewhere for food,' he remarked.
Mamud went to the point again, guiding the men through the labyrinth of turns. Twice more Langers saw distant figures. This time one of them was on his right flank, standing on a crest. Men to their left, right, and rear. He didn't like that very much at all.
Taking advantage of the fact that he had no one to avoid, Sunni Ali was able to make good time. Coming to a small plain near the base of the mountain, he called a halt. It was time now to make yet another move on this vast checkerboard. He took the radio and made calls, sending the signal out to the desert. At his command, bands of men began to converge. From his men on the mountain Sunni Ali knew he had the raiders right where he wanted them. He would keep the pressure on. He gave his people strict orders not to do any shooting unless it looked like
