searching. In seconds they spotted the object of their search; six soldiers bolted forward towards the row of toilets.
'Never!' screamed the prisoner known as Amal Bahrudi. 'Kill me, if you wish, but you will learn nothing, for you are nothing!'
The first two guards approached. Kendrick lunged at them, hurling his body at the stunned soldiers, who thought they were rescuing an infiltrator about to be killed. He swung his arms and smashed his fists into the confused faces.
Mercifully, a third soldier hammered the stock of his rifle into the skull of Amal Bahrudi.
All was darkness but he knew he was on the examining table in the prison laboratory. He could feel the cold compresses on his eyes and ice packs over various parts of his body; he reached up and removed the thick, wet compresses. Faces above him came into focus—bewildered faces, angry faces. He had no time for them!
'Faisal!' he choked, speaking Arabic. 'Where is Faisal, the doctor?'
'I am down here by your left foot,' answered the Omani physician in English. 'I'm sponging out a rather strange puncture wound. Someone bit you, I'm afraid.'
'I can see his teeth,' said Evan, now also speaking English. 'They were like those of a saw-toothed fish only yellow.'
'Proper diets are lacking in this part of the world.'
'Get everyone out, Doctor,' interrupted Kendrick. 'Now. We've got to talk—now!'
'After what you did in there I doubt they'd leave and I'm not even sure I'd let them. Are you crazy? They came to save your life and you tore into them, fracturing one man's nose and breaking apart another's bridgework.'
'I had to be convincing, tell them that—no, don't. Not yet. Get them out. Tell them anything you like but we've got to talk. Then you have to reach Ahmat for me… How long have I been here?'
'Nearly an hour—’
'Christ! What time is it?'
'Four-fifteen in the morning.'
'Hurry! For God's sake, hurry!'
Faisal dismissed the soldiers with calming words, reassuring them, explaining that there were things he could not explain. As the last guard went out of the door, he paused, removed his automatic from its holster and handed it to the doctor. 'Should I aim this at you while we talk?' asked the Omani after the soldier had left.
'Before sunrise,' said Kendrick, pushing away the ice packs and sitting up, painfully swinging his legs over the table. 'I want a number of guns aimed at me. But not as accurately as they might be.'
'What are you saying? You can't be serious.'
'Escape. Ahmat has to arrange an escape.'
'What? You are crazy!'
'Never saner, Doctor, and never more serious. Pick two or three of your best men, which means men you completely trust, and set up some kind of transfer—’
'Transfer?'
Evan shook his head and blinked his eyes, the swelling still apparent although reduced by the cold compresses. He tried to find the words he needed for the astonished doctor. 'Let me put it this way. Somebody's decided to move a few prisoners from here to somewhere else.'
'Who would do that? Why?'
'Nobody! You make it up and do it, don't explain. Do you have photographs of the men inside?'
'Of course. It's normal arrest procedure, although the names are meaningless. When they're given, they're always false.'
'Let me have them, all of them. I'll tell you whom to choose.'
'Choose for what?'
'The transfer. The ones you're moving out of here to some place
