Flyaway

I turned back to Kissack. 'I was just asking Helmut, here, if he's seen the guide yet. You need a guide to cross the Tenere.'

'When were you in Tammanrasset?' Kissack asked suddenly.

'Evidently when you were,' I said. 'Oh, by the way; did you hear anything about that chap who disappeared? Another Englishman. There was a devil of a brouhaha going on about it when I left.'

Kissack moistened his lips. 'What was his name?'

'Wilson,' I said. 'No, that's not right. Williamson? No, not that, either. My memory really is playing me up – first you, now this chap.' I frowned. 'Billson!' I said in triumph. 'That was his name. Billson. The police were really in a stew about him, but you know what Algerians, are like. Bloody bureaucrats with sub-machine-guns!'

The waiter put a bottle of beer and a glass in front of Shaeffer and another bottle before Kissack. He ignored it. 'What happened to this Billson?' His voice was over-controlled.

I didn't answer immediately but popped a slice of omelette into my mouth. I'd got Kissack interested enough to ask questions and that was progress, and the omelette was quite good. I swallowed and said, 'He went up into Atakor without asking permission and didn't come back. There were a hell of a lot of rumours floating around when I left.'

'What sort of rumours?'

'Oh, the usual stuff that goes around when anything like that happens. Unbelievable, most of it.' I had Kissack hooked because he asked, 'Such as?' I shrugged. 'Well, for instance, someone said his Land-Rover had been found burnt out the other side of Assekrem. You know those parts?'

'Not well,' said Kissack tightly.

'This is a damned good omelette,' I observed. 'Anyway, someone else said his body had been brought out and he'd died of exposure. But then there was a buzz that he'd been brought out alive but he'd been shot. I told you – unbelievable stuff. Those things don't happen these days, do they? The desert is pretty civilized now.'

'What are you talking about?' asked Shaeffer. He grinned. 'My Tamachek is better than my English – I heard Tammanrasset and Atakor and Assekrem.'

'Oh, just about an Englishman who vanished near Tarn.' Kissack was looking bleak. He said, 'Any rumours about what finally happened to Billson?'

'The last I heard was that he was in hospital in Tarn with a police guard – sort of house arrest. Just another bloody rumour, though.'

Kissack fell silent and poured his beer. He was thinking hard; I could almost see the damned wheels going round. I turned to Shaeffer and started to chat about the problems of crossing the Tenere, all in German. After a while Kissack said, 'Stafford… it is Stafford, isn't it?' I turned. 'Yes?'

'How did you get from Tarn to here?'

That was a stumer; a damned good question. I visualized the Michelin map I had pored over, and said lightly, 'Flew across to Djanet from Tarn, then came south. I was already booked into the party. Why?'

'What were you doing in Tarn?'

I frowned. 'Not that it's any of your business but I'm interested in Charles de Foucauld. I wanted to see where and how he lived.'

Kissack said, 'I think you're a damned liar.' He nodded towards Shaeffer. 'Any tour group coming down from Djanet is going to go through Tammanrasset anyway. Why should you want to go there twice?'

I stood up. 'Because I'm leaving the group at Agadez and going south to Kano. That's why. Now get up off that damned bench. No man calls me a liar.'

Kissack looked up at me but didn't move. Shaeffer said, 'What's the matter?' He hadn't understood what was said but the changed atmosphere needed no language to understand.

'This man called me a liar.' I was suddenly infuriated with Kissack and I wanted to belt hell out of him. I stooped, grabbed his shirt, and hauled him to his feet. The table went flying and a glass smashed on the floor. Kissack made a grab for the inside of his jacket so I rammed my elbow into his side and felt the hardness of a gun.

Then Shaeffer grabbed me from behind and hauled me away. 'Herr Stafford; this is no place to make trouble,' he said, his mouth close to my ear. 'The prison here is not good.'

Kissack had his hand inside his jacket. I shook off Shaeffer's hands and stuck a finger at Kissack. 'You don't want the coppers here, either – not with what you have there. You'd have too much explaining to do.'

The barman came from behind the bar carrying a foot-long bar of iron, but stopped as Shaeffer said something in Arabic. Kissack withdrew his hand and it came out empty. 'I don't know what you mean.' His eyes flickered towards the barman. 'Hell; this is a lousy place, anyway.' He dipped his hand into his pocket and tossed a couple of bank notes on to the floor, then walked towards the door.

From a distance someone said in German, 'Brawling Englishmen -1 bet they're drunk.'

I said to Shaeffer, 'Tell the owner I'll pay for any damage. Your Arabic sounds better than his French.'

He nodded and rattled off some throat-scratching Arabia The barman nodded curtly without smiling, picked up the money, and returned to the bar. Shaeffer said, 'You should not cause fighting here, Herr Stafford.' He shook his head. It is not wise.'

'I was provoked.' I looked through the window and saw Kissack walking towards the mud-coloured huddle of houses that was Bilma. I had blown it. I hadn't got a damned thing out of him that was of any use. What's more, I had probably given him grounds for suspicion.

But perhaps something could be retrieved if I was quick about it. I went to the bar and laid a bank note down. The barman looked at me unblinkingly so I put down another. I had to add two more before he nodded curtly. Then I went out fast, looking for Kissack. If I could get him alone he was going to tell me quite a few things, gun or no gun.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Bilma is constructed on something like the lines of Daedalus's Labyrinth; no streets, just a warren of alleys and passages, and if I had met the Minotaur I wouldn't have been particularly surprised. It was difficult keeping up with Kissack and twice I lost him and had to cast about. Not that he was being evasive – he didn't look behind him to see if he was being followed or anything like that. In fact, I think he was lost himself at times, not very difficult in Bilma, and I swear we passed the same corner three times.

I followed him deeper and deeper into the maze. There were very few people about and those I encountered regarded me incuriously. They looked to be the same kind that I had seen at Fachi and whom Byrne had called Kanuri. Every so often I would pass a more or less open space where sheep or goats were penned or where chickens scratched, but in general there were just mud walls set with secretive doors every so often. A good shower of rain would have dissolved Bilma in one night, sending it back to the earth from which it had arisen.

At last I peered around a corner to see Kissack open a door and vanish inside. I walked up and looked at the door and then at the expanse of windowless wall. It wouldn't be too difficult to climb but doing the burglar bit in broad daylight would be unwise – even a blank-minded Kanuri would regard that as anti-social, and I was uncomfortably aware of an old toothless crone who had stopped at the end of the alley and was looking at me.

While I was debating the next step my mind was made up for me by a voice saying in French, 'Why didn't he wait at the restaurant?' It floated from the corner I had just turned.

That did it. There was just one thing to do so I opened the door and slipped inside. I found myself in a courtyard just big enough to hold Kissack's Range-Rover and very little else. Around the sides of the courtyard were hovels made of the ubiquitous mud.

Behind me, on the other side of the door, the voice said, 'Is this it?' There wasn't much else to do but what I did. I hurled myself forward and dived under the Range-Rover, being thankful for the generous ground clearance. I was only just in time because the door opened wide just as I got hidden and several men came into the courtyard. I twisted my head, counted feet, and divided by two – four men.

'Where is Kissack?' said the man who had queried about the restaurant. He still spoke French. 'Kissack!' he bellowed.

'In here.' Kissack's voice came from one of the mud buildings.