Glenn Meade (59 page)

Up on the balcony, Sanson was
yanking out his pistol, firing wildly, the siren still sounding as Rachel
vanished into the shadows. Troops appeared from everywhere, and Sanson roared
orders at them, then quickly moved back inside the French windows. With barely
a second's pause, Haider touched Weaver's arm, and they ran across the lawns
towards 'where Rachel had disappeared.

The heavily guarded room at the
far end of the hotel was bustling with Secret Service men, and dozens of
anxious military police standing guard in the corridors outside. The bedlam had
subsided, controlled now, and in the middle of the room
Roosevelt
looked at Griffith, who was shaking a little, his face bleached. 'Are you OK,
son?'

'I - I think so, Mr President.
That sure was close.'

'Let's pray it never gets any
closer. Where's Howie, son? Is he badly wounded?'
Roosevelt
asked, deeply concerned.

'The doc's attending to him right
now - it's nothing serious.

He'll be fine, sir.'

'Thank God for that. Where's the
lieutenant-colonel? I believe I owe him my thanks.'

'They're bringing him now, sir.'

A passageway was cleared in the
throng, and when Sanson pushed through,
Roosevelt
thrust out his hand. 'Lieutenant Colonel Sanson, I presume? They tell me you're
the man who helped save my life. And in the nick of time.’

'I think your own men deserve
credit for that, sir,' Sanson replied honestly.

'From what I hear, you more than
played your part, and I'm deeply indebted to you.'
Roosevelt
's
face darkened, and he said quietly, 'What about the young woman?'

Sanson flushed with embarrassment.
'I'm afraid we're still trying to apprehend her, sir. It's just taking a little
longer than we thought.'

'That uniform she wore sure looked
pretty convincing. But how in the hell did she get past our security?'

Sanson explained and
Roosevelt
's eyebrows rose. 'Well, I'll be darned - so
that's how she did it.'

'We think she made it back to the
tunnel. But we've got over five hundred troops scouring the compound, as well
as a couple of truck-loads of GIs on their way to search the area around the
pyramids. And one of my majors and his men are trying to find the tunnel
entrance. One way or another, she won't get away, you can be certain of that.'

'I'm sure she won't,'
Roosevelt
said flatly, with no hint of pleasure. He
looked puzzled. 'But you know, it's the strangest thing.'

'Sir?'

'She had her chance, but didn't
take it. She heard the commotion in the hallway before you burst into the room,
and yet she still didn't fire. Just stood there, looking at me, like her heart
wasn't in it - almost as if she wanted to fail.' The President removed his
glasses, looked up. 'It seems to me she was either a very brave woman with a
conscience, or a very foolish one with a death wish.'

There was a commotion at the door,
and Sanson saw the major trying to make his way into the room, his uniform
scuffed with dirt, the Secret Service men blocking his way. He said to
Roosevelt
, 'Would you excuse me, sir? There's something I
need to attend to urgently.'

'Of course, work away. And again,
you have my deepest gratitude, Lieutenant-Colonel Sanson. You've done a
remarkable job.'

Sanson snapped off a salute,
turned smartly and made his way to the door. 'He's with me,' he vouched to the
guards, as the major saluted. 'Well?' Sanson demanded. 'Did you find her?'

'We found the tunnel shaft, sir.
Only it seems Weaver might have gone down after her, along with Haider.'

'What?'

The major swallowed. 'From what I
can gather, somehow they managed to reach the shaft just before my men got to
it. I sent a search party down after them with torches.'

'And?'

'We think we've found Deacon, tied
up and unconscious.

And there're signs of blood in the
passageway. You definitely must have wounded the woman, sir. But she's gone.'

'What do you mean, gone?'

'Disappeared.'

'Where, for God's sake?'

'One of my men crawled through into
the tomb. He says he's pretty certain he heard an engine roar away.'

Sanson's jaw tightened, as if he
were grinding his teeth to dust. 'She's probably trying to make it to the
landing strip. You'd better make certain Lieutenant Kane's information about
the desert rendezvous near
Sakkara
was passed
on to GHQ.'

The major nodded. 'I already did.
They've got a convoy on its way to the location right now. And I've got our
Jeep waiting outside to join them, whenever you're ready, sir.'

'I'm ready now.' Sanson moved
briskly down the hall and pushed through the military guards, taking two steps
at a time towards the foyer. 'The woman will be lucky to make the landing strip
if she's been wounded. But even if she does, she'll have a bloody big surprise
in store.' Almost as an afterthought, he asked, 'What about Weaver and Haider?'

'They've disappeared too, sir.'

Captain Omar Rahman had taken off
from the Royal Egyptian Air Force field at
Almaza
,
north-east of
Heliopolis
.

Twenty minutes later he banked the
Bristol
sharply, the aircraft jolting a little
as he came in at three thousand feet over the cane fields above
Memphis
, where the rich
Nile
delta ended and the desert began. He was looking for marker lights in the
silvery blackness of the sands below, telling him where to land.

He saw none.

It was odd, his passengers should
have been down there by now, and he checked his watch. He was right on time. He
nudged the control stick forward and the
Bristol
dropped lower.

The terrain was endlessly flat,
apart from the
Sakkara
pyramids, and he could
easily make out their giant silhouettes, five or six miles away.

As Rahman scanned the ground
again, ahead of him in the dark of the desert a light sprang on. Then another,
and finally one more, the three lights marking out the shape of an 'L'. He
smiled to himself. 'Excellent! You made it, my friends.' He nudged the stick
and the
Bristol
descended.

Sakkara They had tried to follow
Rachel's motorcycle across the desert from
Giza
,
chasing the single tyre track in the sand, until they saw the trail weave up
towards the
Sakkara
pyramids. Weaver came to
the end of the gravel road that led up to the site and they saw the Moto Guzzi
lying discarded on the ground. He grabbed the torch from the car, removed his
pistol, and when they had climbed out, Haider went over and knelt as he
examined the machine. 'A bullet ruptured the tank. She must have run out of
fuel.'

Weaver looked at the damage in the
torchlight, noticed dark stains on the machine, more of them on the ground near
by. He knelt, touched wet blood, his face darkening. 'She's badly wounded by
the looks of it. She could have tried to make it on foot to the landing zone.'

Beyond the pyramids, they saw
nothing move in the endless moonlit desert. Haider gestured towards the
entrance to the ruins. 'We'd better have a look inside, just to be certain.'

A stone archway led into the
pyramids site, crumbling sandstone walls falling away on either side. As Weaver
played the torch, they went through and along a short, darkened passageway.

It came out into an open
courtyard, bathed in shadowy moonlight, ghostly quiet. The towering pyramid of
Pharaoh Zoser rose up off to the right, and straight ahead were the ancient
remains of a scattering of nobles' burial chambers, steps of solid rock leading
down to the tomb entrances. They moved towards the nearest, and as soon as the
torchlight hit the chamber's pitch-dark entrance mouth, a flock of bats
suddenly erupted from the blackness. The flurry of wings died away, and it was
still again.

'Give me the torch,' Haider said
suddenly.

'What's wrong?' « 'I think I see
something.'

Weaver handed it over and Haider
shone the cone of light on to the ground ahead.

'She's been here.' He pointed to
several more dark patches of blood in the sand, a couple of meters away,
between two of the other tombs.

Weaver nodded towards the steps
leading down to the first.

'Let's try this one.'

They heard the distant rasp of an
aircraft engine overhead, and they both searched the night sky, but saw
nothing. The sound of the engine grew closer. 'I'll bet it's Deacon's pickup,'
said Haider. 'Maybe she's already made it to the landing area.'

'We'd still better make sure.'
Shining the torch, Weaver quickly scrambled down the steps towards the mouth of
the tomb, and Haider moved after him.

Rahman came in low, his flaps
already deployed, lining up the nose of the plane with the lights, trickles of
sweat running down his face. Landing on a coarse desert strip was tricky enough
at the best of times. In almost complete darkness, it was positively deadly. If
he hit too much unseen debris he might damage the undercarriage, or slew into
soft sand, and it might be impossible to take off again.

'Nice and easy does it.' He gently
eased the stick forward a little, keeping his eyes on the L-shaped lights dead
ahead. He was almost two hundred feet from the ground, getting ready to touch
down, when he flicked on his landing lights.

The desert strip was sharply
illuminated, and he quickly scanned for any debris or obstacles. His blood
turned to ice.

Dozens of army trucks loomed to
his left and right.

It was a trap.

'Bastards,' he screamed, and
pushed the throttles hard forward, at the same time taking in the flaps,
pulling back on the stick, and the
Bristol
began to climb steeply, the engine snarling.

Headlights sprang on below, and
suddenly an almighty hail of machinegun bullets and tracer fire erupted from
the vehicles, ripping into the air around him.

The cockpit window shattered and a
burst of lead hit him in the shoulder, spun him around, another burst ripping
into his back. He shrieked, his body jerking forward on to the control stick.

He was already dead when the nose
dipped violently, the black earth rushed up, and the
Bristol
screamed into the ground and exploded
in a ball of orange flame.

They found her lying against one
of the tomb walls, her tunic tied around her waist to cover a serious wound in
her side. The material was drenched with crimson, and she looked like a little girl,
lost and helpless. Her breathing was shallow, sweat ran down her face, and she
was choking on her own blood. When she saw them her eyelids fluttered in
recognition.

Weaver knelt beside her, his eyes
welling with emotion.

'Don't try to move. Take it easy.'

She seemed to drift in and out of
consciousness, her voice hoarse. She whispered, 'I - I really think it might be
better if you left me be, Harry.'

'You'll bleed to death, for God's
sake.'

Haider moved beside her, gently
loosened her tunic, examined the gaping wound the machinegun had inflicted in
her side. Then he looked into her eyes, touched her cheek, his voice anguished.
'The firing pin on Kleist's weapon - why did you do it?'

Pain contorted her face, and she
coughed up blood. 'You you both know why. And now it's time one of you returned
the favour. Finish it here and now.'

A trickle of crimson spilled down
her chin. 'Let it end where it began.'

Weaver stood, desperation in his
reply. 'I'll get help-'

Haider gripped his arm, said
hopelessly, 'I'm afraid it's gone far beyond that.'

Rachel cried out, a terrible sound
like that of an animal in torment, her eyes wet. 'For God's sake, have you no
mercy?

Will one of you please shoot me.'

She moaned again, looked delirious
with pain, and her eyes closed tightly. Weaver couldn't bear it any longer,
tugged out his pistol, stood over her. His hand shook as he aimed at her head,
beads of perspiration running down his face, and for a long time he just stood
there, his finger on the trigger, looking down at her, unable to act, and for
the first time since childhood he felt like crying.

'Please He heard a click, looked
over at Haider, whose eyes were wet as he raised his gun.

The explosion rang around the
stone walls.

They carried her body from the
tomb, laid it on the sand, and then Weaver removed his tunic and covered her
face. For a long time there was nothing but a harrowing silence between them,
until Haider said in a trembling voice, 'It was the only way, my friend. An act
of mercy.'

Weaver's face was ashen. 'I could
have got help-'

'It still wouldn't have saved her.
You know that, Harry.'

Weaver felt desolate, looked out
towards the desert, saw a peppering of small bright fires, the burning wreckage
of the aircraft. 'It looks like Sanson got his reception committee to the
landing strip.'

Haider's face was grim, and he
took out his pistol, swallowed hard. 'I guess we all go to hell in our own way.
And now it's time you left me alone, and let me do the honourable thing.'

'Another death isn't going to make
any difference. It's over, Jack. Put the gun away.'

'There's really no other way, I'm
afraid. If you arrest me, then it's either a bullet or a noose. And I'd really
rather not have to dangle from a rope.' Haider cocked the gun. 'So if you don't
mind, do me a favour and step away.'

Very deliberately, Weaver put out
a hand, gripped the barrel.

'I said put it away, Jack.'

'You're not making this any
easier.'

'Take the car. Drive south, as far
as you can. With luck, you can reach
Luxor
by morning. After that, God only knows.'

Haider was stunned into silence,
and Weaver said, 'Just leave, while you still have the chance, before Sanson's
men get here.'

'They'll want to know what's
happened to me.'

'Let me worry about the
afterwards. Go. Before it's too late.'

Haider was almost overcome, and
knelt beside Rachel's body, pulled back the tunic and touched her face. It was
almost too much to bear. 'Promise me you'll make sure she's given a proper
burial.' He looked out towards the desert, his voice thick with emotion.
'Somewhere out there. Where we were all happy together, before this madness
started.'

Weaver nodded. 'And now, you
really had better go.'

There was a sudden rage in
Haider's voice, and he looked on the verge of a breakdown. 'What a terrible
thing this lousy war has been. It's destroyed us all in the end.'

Weaver didn't reply, for there was
really no answer, and Haider touched his arm in a final gesture. 'Take care of
yourself, Harry. I'm not sure we'll ever meet again, but even so, try to get
through the rest of this in one piece.'

He climbed into the staff car,
started up, gave a final wave, and then the olive-green
Humber
moved off into the darkness, faded like a departing spirit.

Weaver slumped on his knees in the
sand. He cradled Rachel's head in his arms, buried his face in her hair, faintly
aware of the noise of the car dying away. And then there was nothing but the
sound of his own sobbing, and the vast and empty silence of the desert.