Desmond Bagley - Flyaway

You've come the wrong way.'

'And there's someone missing.' Lash snapped his fingers. 'What was his name? Ah, yes — Billson. Where is Mr Billson?' One of the men behind him muttered something, and he added, 'And the Tuareg who were with you?'

Byrne dropped the leading rein of his donkey and put his foot on it. 'Paul went sick so they took him back to Djanet' It was a good improvised lie.

'Strange that we didn't meet him,' observed Lash. He beckoned to the Arab, who came close to him. Lash tossed him the camel reins and the Arab coaxed the camel to its knees and Lash dismounted awkwardly. He had not been riding in the Tuareg manner with his feet on the neck of the camel, but had stirrups. He grimaced. 'Damned uncomfortable beasts.'

'No call to ride them if you don't want,' said Byrne. 'You'd do better with a Tuareg saddle instead of that Chaamba rig.' He jerked his head at the Arab. 'His, I suppose.'

'You suppose correctly.' Lash waved his hand and all the men dismounted, the camels grunting discontentedly. 'Cat got your tongue, Mr Stafford?'

'I've found nothing interesting to say, so far.'

'Oh, you will,' he assured me. 'I'm certain you will. You've both already met Kissack so there's no need to introduce him. As for my other friends, they have no English.'

'Friends!' I said. 'Not guides?'

Lash smiled thinly. 'Propinquity breeds friendship. From the direction you're taking it seems you are returning to Tamrit. Do I gather that you've found what you were looking for?'

'Yeah, we found some paintings,' said Byrne. 'And I guess these are new ones — not seen before.'

'You weren't looking for frescoes,' said Lash flatly. 'Let's cut the cat and mouse act, shall we? You were looking for an aeroplane. Did you find it?'

'I don't know what business it is of yours,' I said.

Lash looked at me unsmilingly. 'Or yours, either. You wouldn't take a warning back in London. You had to play the thick-headed hero and meddle in things that don't concern you.'

So there it was said outright — Lash had been responsible for having me beaten up. 'Who's paying you?' I asked.

'Still meddling? That's dangerous. Now, Where's Billson?'

'You've just been told,' I said. 'He went back to Djanet three days ago. He had an injury which was inflamed.' I touched my own shoulder. 'Here.' I was careful not to look at Kissack.

The play of expression on Lash's face was interesting because what I had just said could be circumstantially true. He dismissed Billson for the moment. 'And the aeroplane — where is it?'

'What airplane?' asked Byrne.

Lash sighed. 'Look, Byrne; don't play with me. That's just being stupid.' He turned away and began to talk to the Arab in low tones. The Arab remounted his camel, urged it to its feet, and began to backtrack along the way we had come, if he went far enough he'd find the donkeys Paul had left tethered outside the cleft in the rock. He might even find Paul.

Lash turned back to face us. 'Where's that aeroplane? And don't ask which aeroplane. It's a Northrop "Gamma" 2-D, built in 1934 and called Flyaway. It was crashed around here in 1936 by Peter Billson.' As Byrne opened his mouth Lash held up his hand. 'Don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about. That would be a big mistake.'

Before Byrne could reply Kissack said, 'You're wasting time, Mr Lash. Let me try.'

'Shut up!' said Lash coldly.

Byrne said, 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'All right;' said Lash wearily. 'We'll try it your way, Kissack.'

There was suddenly a gun in Kissack's hand. He stepped forward and looked at us speculatively. 'The old geezer knows more about the desert than Stafford, I reckon; so he'd be a better guide.' I looked at the pistol he lifted; the muzzle was pointing directly between my eyes and I knew I was close to death. 'If you don't tell us, Stafford will be dead meat.'

It seemed an eternity before Byrne said, 'Okay — it's about ten kilometres back.'

A grunt of satisfaction came from Lash, and Kissack said, 'Do I kill him anyway, Mr Lash?'

'No,' said Lash. 'We might need him again — and for the same reason. Search them.'

They found our pistols, of course. Kissack checked the loads on the three donkeys. 'You had a rifle — where is it?'

I realized it had been packed on one of Paul's donkeys.

2/7 Byrne said, 'Left it behind in the Tenere. Too much sand and the action jammed. That's the only reason you're still alive, Kissack.'

Kissack's face whitened and he lifted the pistol again and pointed it at Byrne. 'What, for Christ's sake, did you do to Bailly?'

'That's enough,' commanded Lash. 'We're wasting time. Help me get up on this bloody camel.' They all remounted and now they all had guns showing except Lash, who seemed to be unarmed. 'About face,' he ordered. 'Now, take us to that aeroplane. No tricks, Byrne, or you'll be shot in the back where you stand.'

And so we retraced our steps. I glanced sideways at Byrne whose nose was beakier than ever. He didn't look at me but gazed ahead with a bleak expression. All he had bought was time — ten kilometres' worth of it — say, four or five hours. Then it would all start again.

I wondered about Paul — Byrne had given him fifteen minutes and he ought to have shown up by now. I prayed to God that he would live up to his reputation. Be a nebbish, Paul, I thought. Be the invisible man.

I tramped along, conscious of the guns at my back, and a rhyme chittered insanely through my mind over and over again As I was going up the stair, I met a man who wasn't there; He wasn't there again today, I wish to hell he'd go away!

We hadn't been moving long when the Arab appeared and reined his camel alongside Lash. There was a muttered conversation, and Lash called 'Stop!' I stopped and looked back. Lash said silkily, 'More tricks, Byrne? I warned you about that. Follow Zayid.'

The Arab moved in front of us and veered to the left on a course which would take us directly to where we had left Paul. Byrne grunted and shrugged imperceptibly. It seemed that Zayid was a good tracker — good enough to call Byrne's bluff.

We came to the cleft in the rock and there were no donkeys and no sign of Paul. If he was a nebbish he had also the characteristics of a boojum because, wraithlike, he had 'softly and suddenly vanished away'. Byrne looked at me and raised his eyebrows, and I shook my head to indicate that I didn't know, either. The little man who wasn't there had indeed gone away.

There was a bit of discussion in French with Zayid pointing out the imprint of donkey hooves in the sand and a clear indication they had gone through the cleft. Lash said, 'Kissack, get down and go through there, and tell me what you see.'

Kissack dismounted and, with drawn gun, went through the cleft. He disappeared from sight because there was a bend half-way through and then all was silence except for the snuffling of a camel behind me. Suddenly there was a shout, incoherent and without words, which echoed among the rock pillars, and Kissack came back, yelling excitedly, 'It's there, Mr Lash; the bloody plane is there!'

'Is it?' Lash seemed unmoved. 'Zayid!' The Arab helped him dismount. 'Now let's all go and look at this aeroplane which is unaccountably ten kilometres out of position according to Mr Byrne's reckoning.'

There was no choice for it so we went. The camels were too big to go through the cleft so Zayid hobbled them and left them outside, but they took the donkeys through. And there stood Flyaway just as we had left her. Zayid and Lash's hired thugs from Algiers weren't very much interested, but Lash and Kissack were. They went towards her, Lash at a steady pace and Kissack practically dancing a jig. 'Is it the one, Mr Lash?' he asked excitedly. 'Is it the one?'

Lash took a paper from his pocket and unfolded it, then studied it and compared it with what was before him. He peered at the side of the fuselage and said, 'Yes, Kissack, my boy; this is indeed the one.'