rustling of wings and the alarmed cooing of the rock pigeons that were
roosting on the ledges. Nicholas manoeuvred into position below them,
dazzling them with the torch beam.
With his first throw he brought down a brace of them, fluttering and
squawking to the cavern floor, while the rest of the flock exploded out
into the night in a great clattering uproar of frantic wings. Nicholas
pounced on the downed birds and with a practised flick of the wrist
wrung their necks.
'How do you fancy a juicy slice of roast pigeon?' he asked her.
She lay propped on one elbow, and he sat cross-legged facing her, each
of them plucking the vinous-maroon and grey feathers from one of the
pigeon carcasses. Even when it came to drawing the bird, she was not
squeamish, as many other women might have been faced with the same task.
This, together with her stoical performance during the day's struggle up
the mountain, enhanced his opinion of her. She had repeatedly proved to
him how game and plucky she was. His feelings towards her were
strengthening and maturing every day.
Concentrating on removing the fine bristles from the puckered breast
skin of the bird, she said, 'It is beyond all doubt now that the
material stolen in the raid on our camp is in Pegasus hands.'
'I was thinking the same thing,' Nicholas nodded, 'and we know from the
antennae at their base camp above the falls that they have satellite
communications. We can place a pretty certain bet that Jake Helm has
already telefaxed it through to the big man, whoever he may be.'
'So he has all the details of the stele in Tanus's tomb.
We know that he already has the seventh scroll in his possession. If he
isn't an expert Egyptologist himself, he must have somebody in his pay
who is. Wouldn't you agree with that?'
I would guess that he can read hieroglyphics himself.
I would think that he must be an avid collector. I know the type. It is
an obsession with them.'
'I know the type as well.' She smiled at him. 'There is one sitting not
a thousand miles away from me at this very moment.'
'ToucV' he laughed, and held up his hands in surrender. 'But I have only
been lightly bitten by the bug, compared to others I could name. Those
other two on Duraid's list, for instance.'
'Peter Walsh and Gotthold von Schiller,' she reeled off the names.
'Those two are homicidal collectors,,' he confirmed. 'I -am sure neither
of them would hesitate to kill for the chance of having Pharaoh Mamose's
treasure to themselves.'
'But from what I know about them, both of them are billionaires, at
least in dollar terms.'
'Money has nothing to do with it, don't you see. If they laid hands upon
it, they would never ever dream of selling a single artefact from the
hoard. They would lock it all away in some deep vault, and not let
another living soul la eyes upon it. They would gloat on it in private -
it's a bizarre, masturbatory passion.'
'What an odd word to describe it,' she protested.
'But accurate, I assure you. It's a sexual thing a compulsion, like that
