It was the numbers of men and camels which surprised Kane as he moved down into the camp. On every side, men sweated in the hot sun, loading the great beasts with heavy boxes as if preparing to move out.
He lost count of the tribes, represented. Half-naked Yemenis in coloured turbans, their bodies tattooed and smeared with indigo dye, Rashid Bedouins, Musabein, Bal Harith - they were all there. As his guards hustled him through the throng, heads turned curiously.
They halted outside the largest tent and motioned him inside. Kane pulled back the flap and entered. Muller was sitting at a small, folding table, drinking coffee and examining a potsherd with a magnifying glass. He looked up and smiled. 'Ah, Kane, come in! Come in!'
Kane sat down on a camp stool opposite, and Muller lifted the pot and smiled again. 'Coffee?' Kane nodded and the German filled a cup and pushed it across.
Kane leaned forward, arms resting on the table. 'What have you done with the women?'
Muller looked pained. 'We are not barbarians. They are under guard in a nearby tent. They will find it more comfortable than the temple.'
'That's most considerate of you,' Kane said. 'And what have you done with Cunningham?'
'You will be joining him presently,' Muller said calmly. 'But first, Skiros wishes to see you.'
Kane said, 'What the hell is all this about, anyway?'
Muller got to his feet and reached for his hat. 'But that is why I sent for you, my friend. That is what you are about to find out.'
He pushed back the tent flap and Kane followed him. They moved through the oasis, climbing up towards one side of the gorge, the two Bedouins at their heels, and men passed them going down to the oasis, heavy boxes on their shoulders.
They mounted a narrow ramp which seemed to be cut out of solid rock. At the top there was the entrance to a cave with a sentry standing beside it, and men worked stripped to the waist, dragging out more boxes, which they stacked ready to be carried down to the encampment. Muller brushed past them and Kane followed.
The cave was of no great size, but there seemed to be a variety of technical equipment piled on every side.
Skiros was sitting before a complicated short-wave transmitting and receiving set. As they came in, he removed the earphones from his head and swivelled on his stool. 'Ah, Captain Kane. So you have arrived?'
There was a pleasant smile on his face as if this were some kind of party and Kane an eagerly awaited guest.
'Quite a set-up you have here,' Kane said.
Skiros nodded. 'We are rather proud of it.' He took a packet from his breast pocket and held it out. 'Cigarette?'
Kane took one and said, 'Don't you think it's time someone told me what this is all about?'
Skiros nodded. 'But of course. Why else are you here?' He gestured towards the stacked boxes. 'Help yourself.'
The boxes were made of metal and painted a dull grey. Kane pulled one forward and undipped the lid. It was expertly packed with rifles, new and shining with grease from the factory. The next one contained submachine guns.
He took one out and examined it closely. It had been manufactured in Germany. He turned, his eyes hard. 'I underestimated you. I thought maybe you were smuggling archaeological finds out of the country illegally, but this..."
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'Until Cunningham arrived. That must have been quite a shock.'
Skiros shook his head. 'A slight inconvenience, that's all.'
Kane turned again to the stacked cases of arms and kicked one of the boxes. 'I suppose this is why the British have been having so much trouble with the tribes on the Oman border?'
Skiros smiled. 'We do our small best, but the arms are simply a payment to the tribesmen for helping us. What they do with them is their own business.
Kane looked at the boxes again. 'Those sub-machine guns are German.'
'MP40S, the best.'
'So you're not even Greek?'
'My mother was and her name was Skiros, but I'm proud to say my father was a German. It doesn't matter what his name was.'
Kane turned and looked at Muller who had been standing silently by his side. 'And how does Muller fit into the picture?'
'Quite neatly,' Skiros said. 'He discovered the existence of this place from an old Bedouin who staggered into his camp near Shabwa one night, dying of thirst.'
Kane said, 'For God's sake, why did you have to deal with a vulture like this, Muller? Any one of a dozen foundations in Europe or America would have gladly given you financial backing.'
Muller looked embarrassed. 'There were reasons.'
'Indeed there were.' Skiros laughed. 'As you won't be going anywhere I see no reason not to tell you the truth, my friend. Like me, the professor is a German - a good German. We serve the Third Reich and our Fiihrer, Adolf Hitler.'
'My God,' Kane said.
'I work for the Abwehr, you know what that is?'
'German military intelligence.'
'Exactly. We're going to win the coming war, my friend. The day after tomorrow is the ist of September. That's when we invade Poland.'
'Madness,' Kane said. 'You'll all go down to hell together.'
'I don't think so. You see, we have the big battalions. We also have Captain Carlos Romero and his friends, who are Spanish volunteers in the SS. They will arrive here in the Catalina tomorrow. The following day they will land on the Suez Canal, seed it with mines and blow it up. That should give our English friends in Egypt and London something to chew on.'
Kane struggled to take it all in. 'I can't believe it.'
'A matter of indifference to me."
Kane took a deep breath. 'What happens now?'
'To you?' Skiros shrugged. 'For a day or two, Muller has a use for you, but after that...' His voice trailed away and he sighed as if genuinely sorry.
'That wouldn't be very wise,' Kane said.
Skiros raised his eyebrows slightly. 'Presumably you have a reason for saying that?'
Kane tried to sound completely sure of himself. 'I sent a letter to the American Consul at Aden telling him exactly where we were going.' He shrugged. 'It was a natural precaution - anything can happen in the desert, you know that.'
'You're lying, of course.'
Kane shook his head. 'I gave you the letter to put in the mail bag for me - remember?'
'Very clever, my friend,' Skiros said softly.
Complete panic had appeared on Muller's face and he subsided on to an ammunition box and wiped sweat from his face and neck with a handkerchief. 'We've got to get out of here,' he said and his voice was shaking.
'Pull yourself together.' Skiros selected a cigarette and tapped it on the packet thoughtfully.
Kane smiled. 'If we don't return within a reasonable period of time, the American Consul in Aden will set the usual machinery in motion. They're bound to come looking for us.'
Skiros smiled thinly. 'Quite correct, but as you your- self have so helpfully pointed out, the Consul will make no move until a reasonable period of time has elapsed.'
Kane cursed softly because Skiros was right and he knew it. The troubled frown disappeared from Muller's face and he sagged with relief. 'God in heaven, but you're right.'
Skiros nodded complacently. 'You should know by now that invariably I am. The American Consul will make no move for at least a month. We on the other hand, will be out of here within two days.'
'Two days!' Muller said and he seemed to be genuinely perturbed. 'That doesn't leave me much time. I don't know if we'll be through by then.'
'Frankly, my dear Muller, the question of whether or not you manage to break into your wretched tomb before we leave, doesn't interest me.'
'Can I put Kane to work with the other two?' Muller asked.
Skiros turned to Kane. 'I'm sure you won't object. After all, this sort of work is more in your line.'
Kane tried to think of something to say, but for the moment, he was beaten. 'I guess this is your round.'
Skiros grinned good-humouredly. 'That's it, Kane. Be philosophical about the thing.' All at once, his manner changed and he became brisk and businesslike. 'And now you must excuse me. I have much to do.'
He swung round in his chair and picked up the earphones. Muller touched Kane on the arm and led the way outside. He turned to the right and walked along a broad ledge to where two armed men squatted before the entrance to another cave. It was no more than four feet high and Kane bent down to peer inside.
Muller wiped sweat from his face with a handkerchief and said awkwardly, 'I'm sorry about this, Kane.'
'I'm not in the mood to take confession today,' Kane told him. 'What am I supposed to do in here?'
Just inside the entrance was a spot-lamp, and the German switched it on and led the way in. The cave was only thirty or forty feet across, and the roof a couple of feet above their heads. The powerful beam moved slowly across the wall, and with startling suddenness, the outlines of two human figures with bows in their hands sprang into life.
Kane went forward and examined the figures with interest. 'Polychrome wall painting,' he said, touching them gently with his fingers. 'Remarkably well preserved.'
'What date would you give them?" Muller asked.
Kane shrugged, his animosity for the moment forgotten. 'It's hard to tell. I've seen the same sort of thing in the Hoggar Mountains in the Sahara, but comparisons are difficult. I'd say at least eight thousand years old. Are there any more?'
The German swung the lamp, picking out several rock etchings, and the beam came to rest upon a pile of rubble at the rear of the cave beside a narrow opening. 'I think you will find this much more interesting.'
It was obviously the work of man, and blocks of drafted masonry had been removed to open a passage beyond.
'And you think this is the entrance to a tomb?' Kane said.
'What else could it be?' Muller asked. 'The temple is Sabean if not older. If this valley was some sort of holy place, it would be natural to assume that burials took place here.'
Since entering the cave, Kane had been conscious of faint sounds, and now a light appeared in the dark passage and Jamal emerged, a lamp in one hand, dragging a large basket filled with rubble. He stood for a moment and looked at them calmly, his great body streaked with dust and sweat, and then he emptied the basket and disappeared back into the darkness.
'Presumably Cunningham is in there also,' Kane said.
Muller nodded. 'His help, although unwillingly given, has been of great assistance over the past few weeks.'
'There's just one thing I can't understand,' Kane said. 'You've plenty of Bedouins in camp. Why haven't you used a few of them as labourers?'
Muller sighed. 'In the first place, Skiros is not exactly sympathetic to my work and refuses his permission. In any case, they are all incurably superstitious. They believe these caves to be haunted by evil spirits.'
Before Kane could reply, a voice interrupted from behind. 'If you care to examine the roof, you'll find a much more cogent reason for their reluctance to work in here. The whole damned lot is ready to fall as soon as anyone coughs.'
The man who emerged from the passage was of medium height and wiry, stripped to the waist, and like Jamal, coated with dust from head to foot.
Muller ignored the remark. 'How are things progressing today, Cunningham?'
'No better than yesterday or the day before,' Cunningham replied. 'As far as I'm concerned, we're getting nowhere fast. You'll need a squad of labourers and pneumatic drills if you want to get anywhere with this lot.'
'I agree with you, my friend, but what can I do?' Muller said. 'However, I've brought you a new recruit. Kane here has had a great deal of experience at this sort of thing. I'm sure you'll be able to work something out between you.'
'I'd like to point out that I haven't eaten for some considerable time now,' Kane said.
Til have some food sent up later this afternoon,' Muller told him. 'In return, I shall naturally expect to see some results.' He went outside, leaving them alone.
Cunningham leaned against the wall and ran a hand wearily over his face. 'And who the hell might you be? Are you anything to do with the big fellow they dumped in here this morning? I haven't been able to get a word out of him.'
'That isn't surprising,' Kane said. 'He hasn't got a tongue, but there's nothing wrong with his hearing as long as you can speak either Somali or Arabic.'
