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lly obsessed - the one with oil, the other with an oasis. And then Whitaker'
s voice close behind me: 'Grant. You've got to talk him out of it.'
I got to my feet. He was standing there, a dark silhouette against the dunes,
staring down at where his son stood amongst the smoke of the fires. 'His pla n
is madness.'
But I'd been with David too long not to feel sympathy for him. 'He's fighting
for something he believes in,' I said. 'Why don't you help him?'
'By giving him men?' His harsh, beaked face was set and stony. 'I've few enou
gh for my purpose as it is.' And then in a softer voice: 'I had my loyalties,
too. But now, with Makhmud dead, I'm free to do what perhaps I should have d
one in the first place. I've seen the Emir. I've sent Yousif to Sharjah with
those letters to merchants there. I'm re-checking the earlier surveys. In a f
ew days we'll spud in and start to drill. And when I've brought in the first
discovery well, then all this trouble between Hadd and Saraifa will be seen i
n perspective, a small matter compared with the vast changes an oilfield will
bring to the desert here.'
'And your son?' I asked.
He shrugged. 'As I told you before, when I thought he was dead, I'd hoped he
'd follow me, a second Whitaker to carry on where I left off. Instead, I fin d
myself cursed with an obstinate, stupid youth who's no respect for my judg
ment and opposes me at every turn.' He put his hand on my arm and in a surpr
isingly gentle voice, he said, 'Talk to him. Grant. Try and do for me what I
know I can't do myself. His plan is suicidal.'
He was looking straight at me and I was shocked to see there were tears run
ning down his cheeks - not only from the one good eye, but welling out from
beneath the black patch that concealed the other. 'Do what you can,' he sa id
softly. And then he turned quickly away and went back to his tent.
Ten minutes later David was back at my side, looking tired and drained. 'One
man,' he said in a bleak voice. 'One man will come with me. That's all. Ham
id's brother, bin Suleiman. And he's coming, not because he understands my p
lan, but simply because with him, as with Hamid, it's a blood feud now.' He
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gave a shrug and a quick laugh. 'Well. the fewer the better perhaps. They'll
drink less water, and water is going to be our trouble.' He called to Hamid
and gave the order to load the camels. 'We'll leave as soon as I've got the
things I need out of Entwhistle's truck.'
I started to try and talk him out of it, but he brushed my words aside. 'My
mind's made up. Talking won't change it.' And then he said, 'What about yo u?
Are you staying here or will you come with me?' He stared at me, a long,
speculative look. 'If you should decide to come with me. then I can promis e
to get you away to the coast with Salim as your guide.' And he added, 'If you
don't come, then I think I may be throwing my life away for nothing. Y
ou're my only hope of contact with the outside world, and if the world does
n't know what I'm doing, then it's all wasted.'
I asked him what exactly he planned to do, but he wouldn't tell me the
details.
'You'd have to know the ground or you might agree with my father and think it
crazy. But I assure you,' he added with great conviction, 'that with any luck
a t all it will work. It's the last thing the Emir will be expecting, and the
fac t that we'll be a very small party . . . ' He smiled. 'It makes it easier
reall y- the first part at any rate. And I promise you you'll not be involved
in the rest. Think it over, will you, sir? I need your help in this -
desperately.' He left it like that and disappeared abruptly into the night.
I lay on the hard ground, listening to the movement of the camels, the sound s
of preparation for another journey. A little wind came in puffs, sifting t he
sand, and it was dark. A stillness had enveloped the camp. I don't think
I'm any more of a coward than the next man, but to seek out death, deliberat
ely and in cold blood . . . You see, it never occurred to me he could succee
d. I thought his father was right and that he was throwing away his life in a
futile gesture. I remembered Gorde's description of Whitaker-an old man ti
lting at windmills. David was very like his father in some ways. I closed my
eyes, thinking of Tanganyika and the hard life I'd led there, and then I fe lt
a hand on my shoulder. 'Well?' David asked, and when I nodded almost with out
thinking, he passed me a rifle. 'I take it you know how to use it?' He h ad
another which he handed to bin Suleiman and a revolver with holster and b elt
which he strapped to his own waist.
The stark reality of what I was doing came with the feel of the well-oiled b
reech under my hand. It took me back to days I thought I'd forgotten - to th e
deadly slopes of Monte Cassino, to Anzio and the Gothic Line. I rose quiet ly
to my feet. Salim and Ali were loading cartons of explosive cartridges on to
one of the camels. Hamid and his brother, a squat, hairy man with wild e yes
and a low-browed head, were packing coils of fine wire and a contact plu nger
with its batteries into the saddle bags of another beast.
The camels staggered to their feet, bulking suddenly large against the over
cast, and we were on our way.
A lone figure standing by one of the tents watched us go. It was Colonel W
hitaker. He made no move to stop us, nor did he call out. We left the camp in
silence and though they knew we were going, no man stirred from the ca mp
fires. It was as though they feared to have any contact with us; it was as
though we had already passed beyond the shadows of death.
Clear of the camp we turned east, working our way silently up the face of a
dune in short zig-zags. At the crest we stopped to mount, and then we were r
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iding, the dark desert all around us and the swaying shapes of our camels th e
only movement in the stillness of night.
The clouds thinned and gradually cleared, leaving us exposed in bright moo
nlight. But if the Emir had men watching Whitaker's camp, we never saw the m.
Dawn found us camped among sparse camel thorn on a flat gravel plain. S
harp-etched against the break of day stood the jagged tops of the mountain s.
Dates and coffee, and then sleep. 'We start at dusk,' David said and bu ried
his face in his headcloth.
The withered camel thorn gave little shelter and as the sun climbed the burn
ing vault of the sky, it became very hot. Flies worried us, clinging to the
sweat of exposed flesh, and we suffered from thirst for our water bags were
empty and all we had was the contents of two water bottles. We took it in tu
rns to keep watch, but the shimmering expanse of gravel that surrounded us r
emained empty of life.
As the sun sank we lit a fire and had a huge meal of rice and dried meat. A
bowl of warm camel's milk passed from mouth to mouth. Our four Arabs talked
excitedly amongst themselves and the meal finished, they began to oil their
guns, cleaning them with loving care. In contrast David and I sat silent, do
ing nothing. The sun set and in an instant the sky had paled. The visibility
was fantastic in the dry air, everything sharp and clear, as though magnifi
ed. 'You'd better tell me what you plan to do,' I said, and my voice reflect
ed the tension that had been growing in me all through that long, inactive d
ay.
David was staring at the distant line of the mountains and for a moment I th
ought he hadn't heard my question. But then he said, 'It isn't easy to expla
in to somebody who has never been to Hadd.'
'I've flown over it,' I said.
He looked at me then, a sudden quickening of interest. 'Did you see the fort
of Jebel al-Akhbar? Did you see how the town is backed right into the rock?
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