The sound put me in mind of a rat scurrying back to its nest, but if so, it was a rat the size of a donkey. I stood motionless, listening, and when I heard the slow scrape of iron against wood, I moved slowly to the corner of the house and looked towards the gate.

A figure dressed all in black-little more than a shadow in the deeper shadow of the wall-stood at the gate, lifting the iron bar away. I started for the gate, moving as swiftly and silently as I could, and wishing I had some of Murdo's legendary stealth. I crossed to the fig tree, and as I stooped to crouch beneath it, I caught the faint whiff of the scent I had last smelled in the tunnels beneath the hareem in Cairo: the unmistakable tang of hashish.

My mind froze.

Fida'in!

There was no mistake. Pungent and sweet, with a musty, metallic odour, once smelled, the scent is not forgotten. I picked up one of the benches from beneath the tree and darted forwards.

The intruder heard me as I closed on him. He stepped back from the gate, swinging the iron bar as he turned.

I threw the bench before me, catching the iron bar as it came around, and forcing it back against his chest. I drove in behind the blow, slamming the bench hard against his chin. The Fida'i's jaw closed with a teeth-shattering clack as his head snapped back against the timber door just as his comrade on the other side started to push through. The door banged shut and the Arab intruder tried to squirm away. I heaved the bench into his chest, driving the air from his lungs; he slumped to the ground, his back to the door.

I dropped the bench and snatched up the iron bar. 'Padraig!' I shouted. 'Padraig, help!'

The Fida'i on the other side of the gate pressed hard against the door and succeeded in getting a hand and arm through the gap. The hand gripped a knife that sliced at me as I tried to force the iron bar back into the carrier. Seeing that I could not bar the gate with the intruder's arm in the way, I stepped back, and then hurled myself against the door. The attacker's arm snapped with a chunky pop like wet kindling.

'Padraig!' I shouted.

The howling Fida'i pulled his broken arm out of the way and I pressed the door closed with all my might. I shouted for Padraig again. At the same instant, there came a tremendous thump on the door as someone on the other side drove into it, trying to force it open once more.

There came a rush behind me. I spun around and caught the dull glint of metal streaking towards my neck. I threw my hands before my face and dodged away. The blow was ill-judged and hurried, catching me on the meaty part of the shoulder as I turned. The blade went in – it felt as if a red hot poker had been applied to my flesh.

Flailing with my fists, I stumbled backwards, falling over the body of the unconscious intruder on the ground beside the gate, and pulling the weapon from the grasp of my attacker as I went down. He leapt on me, straining to retrieve the blade still buried in my flesh. As he bent forwards, I kicked up hard into his groin-once, and again. He gave out a groan, staggered unsteadily, and collapsed onto his knees, holding himself.

Swift footsteps sounded on the earth beside me. My hand closed on the handle of the knife. I yanked it from my shoulder and made a wide, awkward swipe to keep my new assailant off balance. The man cried out, 'Duncan! It is me!'

The next thing I knew Padraig's hands were on me, pulling me to my feet. The Fida'i I had kicked was struggling to rise. Gasping, puffing, his eyes streaming with tears, he raised himself up on wobbly legs.

'May God forgive me,' Padraig said, and aimed a solid kick into the softness of the half-paralysed attacker's private parts. The man shrieked and pitched forwards, rolling in agony. He gagged and then vomited over himself, subsiding with a whimpering groan.

'Is that all?' Padraig whirled around, scouring the darkness for more Fida'in. 'Are there any more?'

'There were three of them,' I told him. Clutching my wounded arm, I looked at the two on the ground, both unconscious now. 'The other is outside still. I broke his arm.'

'Are you hurt badly? Here, let me see -'

As the priest reached a hand towards my wounded shoulder, there came a scream from inside the house.

Sydoni.

FORTY-EIGHT

I flew to the house with Padraig two steps ahead of me. He darted through the door and across the darkened room towards the sound of Sydoni's muffled screams. I started after him and collided with a black robed figure bent over something on the floor. The invader went sprawling and my feet slid out from under me. I fell, landing on my wounded shoulder in a glutinous pool.

Pain seared through me; my arm throbbed with a burning ache. I rolled onto my back and found myself lying next to Yordanus on a floor slick with his blood.

The Fida'in attacker lurched towards me. I saw his hands, pale in the darkness, fumbling frantically over the old man's unresisting body, and realized he was searching for his knife, which was hilt deep in Yordanus' neck. We both saw the weapon at the same time and grabbed for it. I was the quicker. My fingers closed on the hilt and I jerked the blade free.

The black-robed Arab lunged again, diving across Yordanus. I tried to roll away, but his hands found my throat and squeezed hard. I swung the knife backhanded with all my strength against the side of his head. The blade entered his temple with but little resistance. His limbs stiffened and his spine arched rigidly. He gave out a startled cry and began convulsing, his teeth chattering and gnashing as he writhed beside his victim on the floor. The spasms grew less violent, and after a moment he lay still.

I dragged myself onto my knees beside Yordanus. The old man's eyes gazed upward; his mouth was open slightly, as if preparing to speak, but no movement stirred his chest. He was gone.

From somewhere further back in the house I could hear voices. I rose and moved quickly towards the sound, and discovered it was coming from the room where Sydoni and Anna slept. The door was closed, but I could hear Padraig calming, reasonable; and Sydoni, frantic, pleading. I put my hand to the latch and, quietly as I could, lifted the wooden handle and pushed the door open.

In the light of a single candle, I saw Sydoni on the far side of the room, bending low over Anna's slumped body. Padraig was standing over her, his arms outstretched in an attitude of protection.

The Fida'i was standing with his back to the door. He glanced over his shoulder as the door opened, saw me, and said something in Arabic. Then he saw the knife in my hand and turned to confront me.

I saw the curved blade glint in the candlelight as he swung towards me and did not wait for him to see that I was wounded.

'Now, Padraig!' I shouted, charging headlong into the Arab intruder. He threw his arms wide to free his blade, and I pulled up at the last instant as Padraig, stepping in swiftly behind, seized the intruder's knife hand in both of his. The attacker swung on Padraig and I dived in, sliding the blade up under his ribs. Blood and hot damp air spewed from the wound.

The Fida'i struck me with his elbow, catching me on the jaw and knocking me off balance. I staggered back. Breaking free of Padraig's grasp, he leapt on me, knocking me to the floor, his knife blade slicing across the side of my face as I fell.

The curved blade rose in my assailant's hand and, helpless to prevent its descent, I shoved my knife up into his throat. The blade entered under the point of his chin, passing up into his mouth. He gave a strangled cry and tried to stab down at me, but Padraig now held his arm.

Gagging on the blade, he tried to pull it free, but I held tight to the hilt. Blood cascaded over his teeth, spilling down his chin and over my hands. The wretch toppled backward, choking on his tongue. His fingers raked at my hands, but I held firm.