'These are yours. There is a red and white Land Rover at the end of the block. It is fully equipped: extra gas cans, water, some rations, blankets, etc. Just what you need for the trip to Ghudamis. I didn't include any weapons. They come later. I don't want you caught with anything that could give the authorities any reason to detain you. I presume you still have some money left. So I'll leave you here.'
Langers had thought about taking one of the local buses to Ghudamis. It was with relief that he now had an alternate form of transport. Bus travel in North Africa was an experience most would much rather do without.
At the hotel he rounded up Ciardello and Gus. 'Get your things while I pay the bill. We're moving out. Monpelier got back to me in a hurry, so it looks like a go.'
Gus stuffed his few belongings into an oversized musette bag. Dominic had had his ready to go since the previous night. Neither asked where they were heading till they were settled in the Land Rover and on the way out of Tunis.
Dominic looked around him and then at the mountains in the distance. 'Where are we heading?'
'Ghudamis for now. From there we'll just have to see. Monpelier will join us in three days with the rest of the team.'
Traffic was sparse. There were only a few buses, which were jam-packed with people and animals ranging from goats to chickens. More common were carts pulled by weary donkeys and small, thin-haired horses. Their masters urged them along loaded for the marketplaces with heaps of dead wood gleaned from the mountainside to be used as fuel for cooking fires. The only change Carl could see in the carts from 500 years past was that some of them had on old truck or automobile tires instead of wooden wheels.
They had to take the coastal road through Sfax, then around the Gulf of Gabes to the border of Libya. They were eyed with suspicion as they passed over the border, the numbers of their vehicle carefully noted to be passed on later. Carl had decided to take the route that was the better road, in fact the only road. There were trails they could have taken to intercept the road from Tripoli to Ghudamis, but that could have taken them two or even three days to travel. Ghudamis was on the Tunisian side of the border nestling at the point where Tunisia, Libya, and Algeria joined. He figured that they might as well get it over with as far as passing through the border was concerned. Guards at heavily trafficked sites were not nearly as jumpy as those in the more isolated regions. Once they had the Libyan stamp on their passports, it should help them if they ran into any problems before reaching Ghudamis.
Monpelier had it about right. It would take them two days to reach their destination if they didn't run into any problems, and in this part of the world it was a rare excursion when you did not. At Sabratha they took a trail south to intersect the road from Tripoli. They had passed three military patrols since they'd crossed the frontier. The looks they'd received from the crews made Carl uneasy. Best to play it safe.
Fifty kilometers on a donkey trail and they picked up the main road. By then night was full on them. Carl and Dominic switched places, leaving Gus in the back to eat on dates and figs they had picked up from a roadside vendor. At the village of Nalut they spent the night, taking the vehicle into an enclosed area that served as a patio for the hostel. Theirs was the only motor vehicle in evidence.
Inside they were greeted profusely by the owner, a man with Arab features. Not unusual, this was one of those places where the Bedouin Arabs' and the Berbers' lands merged. Most of the clientele were Arabs who kept to themselves. They sat in small groups sipping their tea or coffee mixed with cardomon, a spice which Arabs have a great fondness for.
The common room was a spare area with a fireplace at the sound end of one wall for cooking. Raised areas for eating rimmed the room which was lit by coal oil lamps. Electricity was fifty kilometers to the south and would have been too expensive if it had been available.
Carl called the innkeeper over as Gus went to inspect what was cooking on the spit over the coals in the fireplace. Dominic looked around uninterestedly.
'We want one room for all of us,' Carl told the innkeeper. 'And I would advise against anyone getting too close to our vehicle. It would upset me terribly if anything were wrong with it tomorrow.' His fingers dug into the muscle running from the neck to the shoulder of the tavern master. 'We do understand each other, do we not?'
'Oh yes, effendi. It is most clearly understood. I have great love for the English and the French. All will be well. Please be at ease. I give you my word.'
Carl released the pressure. 'Very well. But if things are not as you say, I will take from you more than your word. Now show me to our room.'
Calling Gus away from the fireplace, they followed the innkeeper up to the second floor and were shown into a room with two cots and a wash basin, nothing more.
'This is the best in my establishment, good sirs, the very best. But there are three of you. Will you not wish another accommodation?'
Carl pushed him out the door. 'No! This will do.'
Gus looked around and opened the window to let in some air. From their window they could see the Land Rover parked close to the wall. 'Why just one room, Carl?'
'Because, you great ape, we are going to take turns staying with the Land Rover so we know it will be there in the morning. You and Ciardello go and bring our things in. I'm going to hit the rack first, seeing as how I did most of the driving. Dominic, you and Gus settle on who takes first watch in the Land Rover.'
Carl was asleep before they made it to the Land Rover and back with their gear. He opened one eye when they came back in, then closed it immediately after first looking out the window at the night. He didn't want to go to sleep with the face of Gustaf Beidemann as the last thing he saw. It was just too depressing.
Gus graciously took the job of sleeping in the Land Rover. After all, he could sleep anywhere as long as he had a full stomach, and he 'd seen to that by taking half of the goat the innkeeper was preparing for his other six guests with him as a midnight snack.
Several of the hotel guests had looked with lust at the Land Rover, knowing its worth. When the shock absorbers groaned under the weight of Gus as he climbed in, and was obviously not going to leave, there were several silent moans of frustration. None would go near the Land Rover this night, not unless they wanted to use guns and that would wake the city.
The trio was on the road at dawn, not waiting to take breakfast. They preferred their own cold rations to the fare of the inn. All ate except Gus, who slept peacefully until they were another fifty kilometers along the way. The wet regions of the coast had long since been left behind.
They were now in the Sahara Desert, climbing over ranges of brown rocks which had been shaped by the millennia of winds, heat, and cold.
Harsh and foreboding, the Sahara welcomed no one and only those as harsh as it had any chance of surviving in it. Between stone monoliths they drove on. Sunglasses helped to cut the glare but their eyes still turned red and gritty from the strain. Twice they had to stop to shove boulders out of the road.
At midday they pulled over to seek the shade of a rock wall. The Land Rover needed the rest, too. The surface temperature of the sand was over 130 degrees and they had hundreds of miles to go yet before they reached the worst of it.
Each of them tried to take what rest they could from the heat. For four hours they didn't move, not until the sun had long since passed overhead and the earth had had a slight chance to cool.
They wouldn't make it to Ghudamis until long after dark, and that was all right with them. They would take the cold of the desert over the heat.
Somewhat rested, Carl took the wheel again, navigating over a road that had seen little traffic and even less maintenance. But it was the only road to Ghudamis.
In the light of the Land Rover's headlamps, animals which came out at night to hunt crossed the road, eyes bright and glowing but blinded by the glare. There were desert jackals, large-eared foxes, and striped hyenas. All came out in the night to compete for food.
Unseen to the west and south, the dunes waited, stretching for hundreds of miles. The Sahara itself was three and a half million square miles of hell. Carl thought those dimensions would fit Hades perfectly.
Shoulders cramped, muscles burning from the tedious drive, it was with relief that they at last saw dim lights glowing in a few brown mud-brick houses. They were coming into Ghudamis. It was about time. In the last hour the temperature had dropped to thirty-five degrees from the day's peak of 108. The Sahara did not have cloud cover enough to retain any of the heat of the day.
Gus pointed to a grove of trees outside of the village. 'Isn't that where the Hotel Saharienne is?'
