'I wish I could believe you.'

'I don't give a hoot in hell whether you believe me or not.'

The men came back carrying four more jerricans which they put with the others. I watched them go back through the cleft. Lash clapped his hands together lightly. 'So, according to you, Billson never came here.'

'Not if he went back three days ago.'

'It doesn't matter,' said Lash, and stood up. 'I won't take the chance. Billson won' t leave North Africa. He's a dead man, as dead as you are.'

He went away and Byrne said, 'A real cheerful feller.'

'I wonder where Paul is?' I said in an undertone.

'Don't know, but I ain't putting my trust in a guy like him. Any help from him is as likely as a snowstorm on the Tassili.

Where's that goddamn cutter?'

I groped around for a full five minutes, sifting the sand. Got it!'

'Then hold on to it, and don't let go. We may have a chance yet.'

Kissack and Zayid came back carrying the propeller. Kissack showed the plaque to Lash who laughed. He didn't toss it aside but walked over to where the donkeys were patiently waiting and carefully stowed it. Then he climbed up on to the wing of Flyaway and looked into the cockpit 'He'll see that the compass is missing,' I muttered.'

'Maybe not,' said Byrne.

Lash made only a superficial investigation of the cockpit but then climbed up on to the fuselage and opened the cargo hatch. He peered inside, then said something to Kissack who was standing below. He seemed highly satisfied. He next made his way up the fuselage towards the engine where he sat astride the cowling just as Byrne had done. He picked up something and examined it, laughed again and tossed it down to Kissack, and pointed to us.

Kissack walked in our direction. He stood over us and held something in his fingers. 'Where's the spanner that fits this?' It was one of the nuts that secured the propeller to the engine shaft.

'Find it yourself,' said Byrne.

Kissack kicked him in the ribs. I said quickly, 'It's packed in a tool kit aboard that donkey – the one in the middle.'

Kissack grinned at me and went away. Byrne said, 'No need to help them, Max.'

'I'm not. I don't want them searching all the loads. The compass is packed among my kit.' I looked across at lash. 'Did you leave all the nuts there?'

'Yeah – in a neat row on top of the engine cowling. I'm a real tidy guy.' His voice was bitter.

Lash's men came through the cleft carrying four more jerricans; that made twelve and they apparently went back for more. A jerrican holds a nominal four gallons – actually a little more – so there was fifty gallons standing there on the sand. I said, 'What the hell do they want with all that water?'

'What makes you think it's water?'

I bunked in astonishment. 'You think it's petrol!'

They're putting the propeller back, ain't they?'

They're crazy,' I said. They can't fly it out of here.'

They don't intend to,' said Byrne. 'Remember Paul's Land-Rover? I figure they're going to burn it.'

Destroying evidence of what? I watched them replace the propeller. It was a much more laborious task for them to put it back than it was for us to take it off. At one time all five of them were engaged on the job and it was then that I took a chance and had a go at cutting the thongs around Byrne's wrists. Holding the polished and sharpened stone blade I sawed at the leather without being able to see what I was doing because Byrne and I were back to back.

Suddenly he said, 'Enough! They've finished.' I palmed the blade and twisted around again to look at Flyaway. Kissack and Zayid were handing up jerricans to Lash, who stood on the wing and was pouring petrol into the auxiliary tank. The other two were still engaged in ferrying more jerricans. Lash put fifty gallons into the tank and there was still another fifty available because I counted twenty-four jerricans in all.

'Three camel loads,' said Byrne. 'I did wonder about all those pack animals.'

Lash and Kissack came over to us. Byrne looked up at them. 'I said it to Wilbur and I said it to Orville – "It'll never get off the ground."'

'Very funny,' said Lash. 'Kissack's come up with a suggestion. He thinks we ought to put one of you into the cockpit.' He studied us, then turned to Kissack and said objectively, 'It can't be Byrne – he's too old and it might show. If it's anybody at all it'll be Stafford.'

Kissack shrugged. 'Suits me.'

Lash looked at me. 'I don't know,' be said reflectively. 'The clothes are wrong.'

'They'd be burnt.'

'Mmm. Then there are the teeth. This plane's going to be found some time, Kissack, and someone might decide to do a thorough investigative job. If they discover the wrong man in the cockpit, then a hell of a lot of questions are going to be asked.'

'After more than forty years!'

'Stranger things have happened. No, on balance I think we'll leave things as they are. We have Billson's body so let's leave it at that. It'll look as though he got out before the plane went up.' Lash looked down at me and smiled. 'Don't let your hopes soar, Stafford. It's merely a reprieve.'

I said, 'You're a cold-blooded bastard!'

Kissack kicked me in the ribs and Lash caught his arm.

'Don't do that. I detest gratuitous violence.'

Kissack said, 'Gratty-what violence?'

'I mean I don't get my kicks out of it as you do.' Lash turned and looked at Flyaway. 'It doesn't look crashed,' he complained. 'Not so it would burn out. We'll have to raise the tail and tip the whole plane forward on to the engine.'

'Hell, that thing's heavy!'

'Not as heavy as all that, and there are five of us. All we have to do is to lift up the tail and put stones under it. When we get the pile of stones high enough it'll tip forward like a see-saw. But first, some petrol, I think.'

They walked away towards Flyaway and Lash climbed up on to the wing again. Kissack handed him a full jerrican and Lash poured it into the cockpit, and then poured another into the cargo compartment. Then he did the same thing again with two more jerricans and I saw the shimmering haze of evaporating petrol above the aircraft. It was like a bomb and only needed a spark to explode.

All five of them assembled at the tail. While four of them lifted the other piled stones underneath and gradually the tail rose higher and higher. While all eyes were off me I got busy with the stone blade at Byrne's wrists. I didn't see Flyaway tip over but when I looked her fuselage was at forty-five degrees and her tail was pointing to the sky. The rending noise had been the propeller bending under the sudden weight of the engine as it hit the ground.

They poured more petrol into her and Kissack used the last can to lay a trail across the sand. He didn't want to be too close when he tossed in a naked flame. He was quite a competent arsonist. Lash, standing close by us, took a paper from his pocket; I think it was the same one he had used to identify Flyaway. 'I won't need this any more,' he said conversationally, and lit one corner with a cigarette lighter. He held it up to make sure it was aflame, then tossed it into the petrol-soaked sand.

At first nothing happened. In the bright glare of the sun it was impossible to see the flames as they ran towards Flyaway. But then she exploded in fire; flames gouted out of the cockpit with a roar as though under forced draught, and ran up the fuselage right up to the tail and rudder until she was totally enveloped.

The donkeys brayed and plunged in fright. Lash shouted, 'Get those bloody donkeys out of here!' I don't think he had realized until then how much heat so much petrol would generate. They rounded up the donkeys and pushed them through the cleft, then went through themselves, leaving us lying there.

I took the opportunity of trying to cut the thongs at Byrne's wrists again, but he snatched himself away. 'For Christ's sake!' he said. 'Roll over against the rock and keep your head down. That goddamn auxiliary tank will be going up any second.'