Flyaway

Byrne moved his hand in a dismissive gesture. 'Let's stick to the present. Did you get a look at Lash?'

I shook my head. 'Only his feet. I was flat on my belly under that Range-Rover. I didn't see any of the others, either; except Kissack, of course, and his Arab friend.'

'But there are now five of them?' I nodded, and he said, 'Must have come in on the airplane that's taking Bailly back to Agadez. And Lash's plan now is to do nothing until we find that airplane?'

'As of now it is. He could change his mind.'

That we'll have to risk. Now, we know what he's going to do, but he doesn't know we know, so that gives us an edge. He wants to help us along until we locate that airplane. Okay, that's fine with me and I propose to let him help, and to do that he'll have to show himself.'

'Maybe. Perhaps he'll be master-minding in the background.'

'I don't think so,' said Byrne. 'He won't use Kissack because he knows I've seen Kissack, and Kissack knows I tried to screw him so Lash knows it too. And from what you tell me, the other guys along with him are hired muscle from Algiers.'

'Or hired guns,' I said glumly. 'Could you recognize him by voice?'

'I think so, unless he's smart enough to change it.'

'Good enough.' I couldn't see Byrne in the darkness but there was a smile in his voice. 'You know, Max; if these guys follow us and help us on our way I wouldn't be surprised if they got in real trouble. The desert can be a dangerous place, especially when it has help.' I said, 'How much of this do we tell Paul?'

'Are you out of your mind?' he said. 'We don't tell him a goddamn thing. He's just along for the ride.'

We left early next morning with Konti still with us. 'We'll take him as far as Djado,' said Byrne. 'Then he'll head east, back home to the Tibesti.'

We drove openly around Bilma and past the fort. I didn't see Kissack or anyone who might be Lash. Then we took the track due north, skirting the ramparts of the Kaouar mountains, sheer cliffs for mile after mile. Just after leaving Bilma Byrne said, 'About forty kilometres ahead there's the military post at Dirkou; I'll have to stop there for gas. But not you -they'd want to see your papers and you got none. So I'll park you just outside with Konti. He don't like soldiers, either.'

When we came into sight of distant palm groves he stopped and pointed. 'Head that way as straight as you can. That'll bring you to the road the other side of the post but out of sight. Wait for me there.'

Konti and I got out. Byrne was about to start off again but he paused. 'You got a spare bottle of whisky?'

'In my bag in the back. Why?'

'There's a guy in Dirkou who likes his booze. A sweetener makes life run easier around Dirkou.' He drove off.

Konti and I set off across the desert which, thank God, was flat thereabouts. Presently I stooped and picked up something. Byrne had been right – there were sea-shells in the desert near Bilma.

After about half an hour's trudge we reached the track and waited, being careful to- stand behind a convenient rock and not in plain sight. Soon we heard the grind of gear-changing and I looked out to see the Toyota approaching, so we stepped out and Byrne stopped just long enough for us to climb in.

He jerked his thumb back to Dirkou. 'Would you say Lash is a big man?'

'His feet were middling size.'

'There's a Britisher back there. Came in twenty minutes behind me.'

'Don't tell me,' I said. 'In a Range-Rover.'

'No; in an old truck nearly as beat-up as mine. He's pretty tall, pretty broad, dark hair.'

'Anyone with him?'

'Two guys. From the way they spoke Arabic together I'd say they're from the Maghreb – Algiers, most likely. The Britisher don't speak Arabic, he talks to them in French which they don't understand too good.'

'It fits,' I said.

They'll be more than twenty minutes behind us when they leave Dirkou,' said Byrne with a grin. 'I had a talk with the guy who likes his booze. Right now he's turning them inside out and the English feller is swearing fit to bust a gut. Won't do him no good, though. Seems that whisky has its uses.'

That might be useful,' I said thoughtfully. 'If your whisky drinker is turning them over that thoroughly he might find guns. He wouldn't like that, would he?'

That passed through my mind,' agreed Byrne cheerfully. 'Let us not smooth the way of the transgressor.' He laughed at my expression. 'Lots of good things in the Bible.'

From the seat behind me Billson said, 'What are you talking about? Who was that man back there?'

'Just a guy,' said Byrne. 'Maybe nothing to do with Kissack but I like to play safe.'

I said, 'Don't worry about it, Paul.'

The track was bad and got steadily worse. Every so often we would pass a village with the inevitable grove of date palms. There was evidently water under the tall cliffs of the Kaouar mountains. But the villagers hadn't tried to make life easier for themselves by maintaining the track.

We travelled steadily all day and not only the track deteriorated but so did the weather. A wind arose, lifting the sand in a haze which dimmed the sun, and dust filtered everywhere in the truck. It was then that I found the true efficacy of the Tuareg veil and pulled it closer about my face.

Disaster struck in the late afternoon. There was a grinding noise from somewhere at the back of the Toyota and we came to a shuddering halt in soft sand. Byrne said, 'Goddamn it! That's something wrong with the transmission.'

So we got out to look at the damage. The rear wheels were sunk nearly to the axle in the fine sand and I could see it was going to be a devil of a job to get out even if there was nothing wrong with the transmission. And if the transmission had gone we could be stuck there forever. Byrne didn't seem too worried; he merely dug out two jacks from the back of the truck and laid them on the sand. 'Here's where the hard work starts,' he remarked. 'We'll need the sand ladders from up top.'

Paul and I got down the sand ladders. Byrne regarded Paul thoughtfully. 'Would you do me a favour?'

'Of course. What is it?'

'Go to the top of that rise back there and keep your eyes open. If you see anyone coming let us know fast.'

Paul looked at Konti. 'What about him?'

'I need him,' said Byrne briefly.

'Oh! All right.' Paul started off back down the track.

Byrne laughed shortly. 'Paul will keep a better look-out than any of us. He seems to value his skin more.'

'I don't know,' I said. 'I'm pretty attached to mine.'

An hour later we knew the worst, and it was bad. The differential gears are pretty near all stripped,' said Byrne. 'No wonder it sounded like my old man's coffee-grinder back' home in Bar Harbor. It never could grind coffee worth a damn.'

I regarded the jacked-up Toyota gloomily. 'What do we do? Walk?'

'There's a place called Seguedine a piece up the road -maybe ten kilometres. Not that there's much there, but maybe we could use a team of camels to haul us out.'

'And then what? The differential's busted. There wouldn't be a service station in Seguedine?'

Byrne laughed. 'Not likely. But I've got a spare differential in the back of the truck. The bastards are always stripping so I've made it a habit to keep a spare. But I'd like to get in cover before replacing it. It's going to blow a son of a bitch tonight and this damned sand gets in everywhere. Not good for differentials.'

'Well, who goes? I can't speak the language.'

Byrne grinned. 'I sent Konti on ahead half an hour ago. I was pretty sure of what I'd find.'

I looked around and, sure enough, Konti was missing. But Billson was running towards us at full tilt. 'Someone's coming!' he yelled. They'll be here in five minutes or less.'

He skidded to a halt in front of us. 'Any idea who it is?' asked Byrne calmly.

'It looked like the truck we saw in Dirkou.'

Byrne's right arm disappeared inside his gandoura and when it reappeared he was holding a fistful of gun. He worked the action and set the safety-catch, then put it away again. Paul watched him wide-eyed. 'Go and sit in the front seat, Paul,' said Byrne.

Billson scurried around the truck and I saw to my own pistol. Byrne said, 'If this is Lash we'll pretty soon find