It was one of the most terrifying things she had ever seen.
Still smiling, he dropped one hand to his groin, opened the fold of his
shamnia, and made a gesture so obscene that Vicky recoiled, and she
felt the scalding blood burn her throat and her cheeks. There was no
control in her voice now as she blurted, 'Oh, you swine you filthy
swine,' and the man reached for her, his robe still open. As she
shrank back, she felt the others behind her thrust her forward again.
Then another voice spoke. The words were banal but the tone hissed
like the sound of a scimitar swung at the cut.
'All right, chaps. That's enough of that nonsense.' Vicky felt the
pressure of bodies about her ease, and she spun around with a sob
catching in her throat.
Gareth Swales strolled down the passage that opened for him through the
dense press of robed bodies. His whole carriage seemed indolent, and
the white open-necked shirt with an Zingari scarf at the throat was
crisp and immaculate but Vicky had never before seen the expression he
wore. The rims of his nostrils were ice-white and his eyes burned with
a controlled fury.
She would have flung herself at him, sobbing with relief, but his voice
crackled again.
'Steady. We're not out yet,' and she caught herself, lifted her chin
and smothered the next sob before it escaped.
'Good girl,' he said, without taking his eyes from the face of the tall
Galla in the blue robe, and he kept on walking steadily towards him,
taking Vicky's arm as he drew level with her. She felt the strength of
his fingers through the thin stuff of her blouse, and it seemed to flow
into her, charging her depleted reserves, and the jelly weakness in her
legs firmed.
The Galla leader stood his ground as Gareth stepped up to him, and for
a space of time that was less than five seconds but seemed to Vicky
like a round of eternity, the two men locked gazes and wills. Blazing
blue eyes levelled with smouldering black then suddenly the Galla
broke, he glanced aside and shrugged, chuckled weakly, and turned away
to talk loudly with the man who stood beside him.
Unhurriedly, Gareth stepped through the gap the man had left and they
were at the car.
'Are you well enough to drive?' Gareth asked quietly, as he swung her
up on the sponson and she nodded.
'The engine's switched off,' she blurted; they could not risk cranking
to start.
'She's on the slope,' said Gareth, turning to face the crowding
Gallas and hold them off with his level gaze. 'Roll her to a start.'
As Vicky scrambled into the driver's hatch, Gareth placed a cheroot
between his lips, and struck a match with his thumb nail. The little
act distracted the hostile pack for an Instant, and they watched his
hands as he lit the cheroot and blew a long blue feather of smoke
towards them.
Behind him, the car began to roll, and Gareth swung himself aboard
easily with the cheroot clamped between his teeth and gave the horsemen
