'Arabs or Tuareg?'

'Who cares? They're all the same to me.'

'I repeat, and I don't like repeating myself – you're stupid, Kissack. Did they wear veils?'

'Byrne did – and one of the others. The one who did for Bailly had no veil.' There was a pause while Lash digested that, and Kissack said defensively, 'What's the difference? Christ, I hate this bloody desert.'

'Shut up!' Lash was silent for a while, then said, 'What happened to them?'

'I don't know. They aren't here. I shot up that Toyota pretty good; got three of the tyres. And no one is going to walk out of all that sodding sand out there, Mr Lash.'

'You said that before about Billson, and you were wrong.' Lash was contemptuous. 'And I'm betting you're wrong again because you're stupid. Before I flew down from Algiers I took the trouble to find out about this American, Byrne. He's b een in the desert thirty-five years, Kissack. The Algerians don't like him much but he has friends with political clout so he still hangs around. Anyway, he spends most of his time here in Niger. If you didn't kill him, then I'm saying he's going to get out because he knows how. Did you kill him?'

'No,' said Kissack sullenly.

'Tomorrow you take me and show me that shot-up Toyota. If it's not there you're going to wish you were Bailly.'

'It'll be there, Mr Lash. I know where I put the bullets.'

'Don't bet on it,' said Lash coldly. 'Because I'm assuming it's not there. Now I told you to stay in Agadez and wait for me. Why the hell didn't you?'

Kissack had an access of courage. 'Remember what you said when you came in here. You said there was a contract out on Billson and you asked why he was still alive. I, was just doing the job.'

'Good God Almighty!' said Lash violently. 'Those bloody leaflets changed all that. Even a cretin like you should have realized that. Whether Billson is alive or dead, that plane is going to be found now. If it is, then my principal is going to be up a gum tree and he's not going to like that.'

'If I'd got Byrne there'd be nobody to give the reward. That's why I had a crack at him.'

'I don't deal in damned ifs,' snapped Lash. 'I want certainties. And you're wrong. If that crashed plane is worth maybe a thousand pounds to Byrne, then anyone who finds it will figure it's worth something to someone else, whether Byrne is around or not. I tell you, that plane is going to be found and talked about.'

'What's so bloody special about it?' asked Kissack.

'None of your business.' Lash fell silent. Presently he said, 'Any idea why Byrne and Billson suddenly took off in this direction? Do you know where they were going?'

'I didn't ask.'

'Working in the dark as usual,' said Lash acidly. 'Now this is how we work it from now on. I'm betting that Byrne and Billson are still around – so we find them. And when we do you don't lay a bloody finger on them. What's more, if they're in trouble you get them out of it. Understand?'

'Hell! One minute you want to know why they're not dead, and the next you want me to pick 'em up and dust 'em off.' Kissack was disgusted.

Lash was heavily patient. 'We don't know where that plane is, do we? But Byrne might have a good idea by now – he's the one who's been advertising for it. So we let him find it and, if necessary, we help him. Then, when we've got Byrne, Billson and the plane all in one place…'

'Bingo!' said Kissack.

'And I'll be along to see you don't make a balls-up of it,' said Lash. 'Now, is there anything else you think I ought to know? It doesn't matter how insignificant it is.'

'Can't think of anything, except there's been some funny rumours going round Tammanrasset.'

'What rumours?'

'Well, I heard that Billson was in some sort of hospital jail in Tarn. But he couldn't be, could he? Not if he was in the Ten6re.'

'When did you hear this?'

'Today – in the restaurant. A British tourist travelling with a German crowd was shooting his mouth off. Billson dead of exposure, Billson alive with a bullet in him, Billson alive and in jail. But all just rumours, this chap Stafford said.'

'What!'.

'He said they were just rumours; nothing certain.'

'What did you say the name was?'

'Whose name?'

'The British tourist, for Christ's sake! Who else are we talking about?'

'Oh! He called himself Stafford. No, he didn't; but his German mate called him Stafford.'

'Good God Almighty!' said Lash softly.

'And he answered to Stafford when I talked to him. Is he important?'

'Did he say where he'd come from? He's been in Tammanrasset, you say.'

'He came down from Djanet with a German tour group. Said he'd flown to Djanet from Tarn. I thought that was a bit funny but he explained it. Said he was leaving the tour at Agadez and was going down to Kano.'

'And he had a German friend?' Lash sounded puzzled.

'That's right. They jabbered a lot in German. I think he was the tour leader. They were talking about a guide to take them across the Tenere.'

'Coming down from the north with Germans? But how…' Lash cut himself short. 'When was this?'

'Not long ago. I came straight here from the restaurant and then you pitched up a couple of minutes later.'

'Then he might still be there?'

'He was there when I left.' There was a hint of a shrug in Kissack's voice. 'We had a bit of a barney; he was getting on my wick.'

'How?'

'All his talk about Billson in Tarn was making me edgy.'

'So you do have some imagination, after all. Come on; let's see if he's there.'

'So who is he?'

They got out of the Range-Rover and walked across the courtyard. Lash said, 'Trouble!'

The door slammed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

I got out from under the Range-Rover and looked about. A minor puzzlement which had been a fugitive at the back of my mind during that interesting conversation had been how they had got the Range-Rover into that courtyard. It couldn't be driven through Bilma, not through alleys four feet wide at the most. The puzzle was solved by the sight of a big pair of double doors, so I opened one and found myself on the edge of the town, clear the other side from the restaurant.

I did the three miles to Kalala at a jog-trot, my mind busy with the implications of what I had heard, the most interesting one being that Lash knew me – or of me – and he had been very surprised to hear that I was in Bilma. That, and a phrase that had been dropped a couple of times, made it almost certain that it had been Lash who had me beaten up in Kensington. I owed him something for that.

When I got back to the resting caravan Byrne was asleep but Billson was around. He said, 'Where have you been? Where did he take you?' He looked me up and down, examining my English tailoring. 'And why did you change? Byrne wouldn't tell me anything when he came back.'

If 'Byrne had decided to keep mum then so would I. Paul had been improving during the last few days, but if he knew what I had just found out he might blow his top. It was the final proof positive that someone wanted him dead and would go to any length to kill him. And expense was no object, so it seemed. Touring half a dozen men around the Sahara by road and air isn't the cheapest pastime in the world, especially if they're killers – guns for hire.

I said casually, 'I've just been wandering around Bilma to see what I could see.'

'Did you find the Range-Rover?'

'If it's there it must be hidden.' That was true enough.

'What about Kissack?' he said fretfully.

I remembered that Byrne and I had not said anything to Paul about meeting Kissack and Bailly in Agadez. I lied. 'I wouldn't know Kissack if I stood next to him. And he wouldn't know me. Relax, Paul; you're safe enough here.'