The Eye of the Serpent (7 page)

Alec took a long look around, turning slowly through 360 degrees. There was nothing as far as the eye could see – only the white dunes stretching to the horizon in every direction. Ahead of them, the hard surface of the road showed only in patches through the fine white sand that had swept in to cover it.

He looked at Ethan. ‘What do we do now?' he asked, trying not to think of the terrible stories he'd heard about people who had been marooned in this desert. He could feel the raw power of the sun clawing through his canvas shirt.

‘We start walking,' said Ethan, sounding calm and positive. ‘As long as we
stick to the road, we should be all right. And hopefully somebody from the dig might come out to look for us. They must have seen that sandstorm and they'll know we were on our way back.' He moved back to the Crossley and, reaching into the back seats, pulled out a couple of canteens. ‘Luckily I never go anywhere without plenty of water,' he said. He threw one of them over to Alec, who caught it and slung it across his shoulder.

‘What about the Crossley?' asked Alec.

‘I'll send Mickey back to have a look at it once we reach the dig,' said Ethan. ‘He'll be able to fix it – I never saw a better mechanic. Come on, let's stride it out. The faster we walk, the sooner we'll get there.' He set off as if embarking on nothing more daunting than a stroll in the park.

Alec hurried up and fell into step alongside him. ‘Coates says you're a soldier of fortune,' he observed.

Ethan laughed. ‘Is that what he said? Well, it's as good a description as any, I guess. I kind of got the impression that Coates didn't exactly approve of me.'

Alec shrugged. ‘He's like that with everyone when he first meets them,' he said. ‘I think it's mostly because you're an American.'

Ethan raised his eyebrows. ‘I can't do much about that!' he protested. ‘What's so bad about Americans, anyway?'

‘Oh, well, I think the main problem is that they're not
English
. Coates dislikes most other nationalities on principle. He's very old fashioned but he's a decent sort when you get to know him. Absolutely devoted to the Devlins.'

Ethan looked at Alec, amused.

‘What?' asked Alec.

‘The way you talk,' he said. ‘
Absolutely devoted to the Devlins
. Don't get me wrong, it's kind of neat. Like something out of Charles Dickens.'

‘You've read Dickens?' Alec was impressed.

‘Some.
Oliver Twist
 . . .
Great Expectations
. You know, the good ones. What's the matter, you think us Yanks only ever go to the movie theatres?'

Alec tried not to look guilty, remembering something that Coates had said back aboard the
Sudan
. ‘Of course not,' he said.

‘So, what do you read, Alec?'

‘Me? Oh . . . I like H. Rider Haggard.'

‘
King Solomon's Mines
? Great book. Read it when I was around your age. Loved it. I've even been to some of the places mentioned in it. Didn't find the mines, though.'

‘What did you find?'

‘Trouble mostly,' admitted Ethan. ‘Though in some cases the trouble came looking for me.' He laughed and shook his head. ‘So how come you're out here in Egypt, Alec?'

‘It's Father's job, mainly. He's been stationed in Egypt for quite a few years now. I attend a boarding school in Cairo and twice a year I spend my holidays with him. Except, of course, he doesn't have an awful lot of time for me, which is where poor Uncle Will came in.' He thought for a moment. ‘Actually, this might be our last year in Egypt. Dad says they're planning on making him a roving ambassador, which means he'll be travelling all over the world. He said something about Mexico, the last time we spoke.'

‘Mexico, huh? Now that's a wild place. You'll need to be very careful out there. Bandits around every corner.'

‘Oh yes, you said you'd been there.'

‘Sure have. Got into some trouble last time. I was lucky to get out with my skin in one piece.'

Alec was about to say something else, but he suddenly experienced a powerful sensation of being followed and turned his head to look
behind him. At first he saw nothing unusual – just the baking sand dunes, rippling and undulating in the rising heat; but then he saw shapes coming through the heat haze – five or six brownish creatures prowling along the road behind them.

‘Mr Wade . . .?'he said.

Ethan stopped walking and turned to look. As they watched, the rippling shapes seemed to take solid form, as though they had appeared magically from some other dimension. Now Alec could make out the brown spotted fur, the awkward gait of an animal that had longer front legs than back ones. He could see the ugly, brutish heads and the prominent ears. The creatures were staring at the two humans with a steadfast, malignant gaze as they slunk steadily forward.

Hyenas
. Alec felt a chill jolt through him. He knew all about hyenas. On a trip to the Serengeti with his father he had once witnessed a pack of them tearing at the carcass of an antelope with jaws powerful enough to splinter the creature's bones.

‘What the heck are they doing way out here?' asked Ethan quietly. He glanced at Alec. ‘Don't worry, kid. Those things are cowards – they only go for easy prey.'

‘And we don't strike you as easy? Two people in the middle of nowhere?'

‘Oh, they ain't gonna bother us.' Ethan turned away and began walking on, affecting an air of unconcern, but as he fell back into step, Alec saw that the American had taken his pistol out of its holster and was checking that it was fully loaded.

‘That's a Colt forty-five, isn't it?' he asked.

Ethan nodded. ‘Yup. This gun has quite a history. Belonged to my dad and his dad before him. Thing must be over sixty years old, but it's never let me down yet.' He glanced briefly over his shoulder, as if weighing up the enemy. ‘I gotta say, I'm surprised to see a pack of those things this far north. You ever see 'em before?'

Alec shook his head. ‘Not around here. They were around in ancient times, though. The Egyptians kept them as pets. Occasionally they used to fatten them up and eat them. They were considered quite a delicacy.'

‘Is that a fact?' Ethan threw a glance over his shoulder. ‘Well, I've got six shots for six hyenas. If it comes to it, I should be able to take them all out.'

‘That's assuming you don't miss,' said Alec.

‘Kid, I
never
miss. Don't worry about a thing.'

Alec tried not to be afraid, but he was horribly aware that the hyenas were steadily closing in on them and, though he knew that most of their species were scavengers who preferred to feed off the kill of other animals, he also remembered being told that the spotted variety were skilled predators who were more than capable of dragging down live prey. He licked his lips and looked at the American. ‘Mr Wade . . .?'

‘I told you, kid, call me Ethan!'

‘Umm . . . yes, of course. Ethan, I don't suppose you have another weapon I could use?'

Ethan thought for a moment and then reached into a sheath at his belt and withdrew a big broad-bladed hunting knife. ‘Think you could handle that?' he asked.

‘I suppose so.' Alec took the knife. It was so big he had to use both hands to clasp the bone handle. He made a few jabbing motions in the air.

‘That's the idea,' said Ethan. ‘But look, I really don't think you're going to need to—'

A low rumbling growl stopped them in their tracks and they turned to see that one of the hyenas, a huge barrel-chested brute, had moved on ahead of the others and was now only a few yards away. It was creeping forward, its head low
to the ground, its scraggy tail tucked between its legs. It bared its teeth, revealing rows of dripping fangs. A thick rope of saliva fell from its jaws.

‘Get outa here!' yelled Ethan, waving his arms, but the hyena showed no fear, just kept right on coming. Ethan said something colourful under his breath. ‘Tenacious sort, huh?' he murmured. He glanced at Alec. ‘Watch this,' he said. He lifted the revolver and discharged a shot a few feet in front of the hyena's paws. The creature stopped for an instant. Then it came on again.

‘This doesn't make any sense,' muttered Ethan. ‘It should have run. Why didn't it run?'

Alec shook his head. He had no idea, but he was beginning to feel very worried about this.

‘All right, buster, you asked for it,' said Ethan. ‘Time to make an example.'

He lifted the revolver a second time and took aim at the creature's chest. The gun cracked loudly and made Alec jump; and the hyena jolted as though it had been struck across the chest with a cricket bat; but it only faltered for a moment before coming on again. Ethan stared down at it in utter amazement. The other creatures were hurrying forward now, as though moving in to avenge their stricken comrade. Ethan lifted the
gun a third time and fired again, blasting another hole in the hyena's chest, inches away from the first. Once again the hyena lurched from the impact, but didn't die. Ethan raised the gun a fraction and put a shot into the beast's head, and this time it dropped in its tracks, its limbs twitching.

‘That's four bullets gone!' gasped Alec.

‘Yeah, I noticed that too,' said Ethan, sounding ridiculously calm under the circumstances. Two more hyenas were running in to take the place of the fallen beast and Ethan pumped a shot into the first one's head, killing it instantly; but before he could take aim at the next, it had thrown itself through the air and struck him hard in the chest, flinging him backwards onto the sand. The pistol flew from his grasp and he was obliged to throw up his hands and clamp them around the beast's throat in a desperate effort to keep its slavering jaws at bay.

For a moment Alec was frozen to the spot, but then, realizing that he had to go to Ethan's aid, he ran over to where the American was struggling with his attacker and drove the blade of the knife down hard between the hyena's shoulders. The beast gave a high-pitched shriek of agony, then
twisted away from Ethan and staggered off, yelping. Ethan sat up and stared frantically around for the gun. He saw it lying several feet away, half buried in the sand, and began to scramble towards it, but another low-pitched growl stilled him. He turned to see that another hyena was closing in for the kill.

Alec acted instinctively. He put himself between Ethan and the beast and raised the knife. ‘Go for the gun,' he told Ethan.

‘Kid, no, move back!' Ethan begged him.

Alec shook his head. ‘It's our only chance,' he said. ‘Get the gun, Ethan.'

Ethan nodded, then got onto his hands and knees. The hyena's growl deepened and it braced itself, ready to leap at the boy. Alec took a firm grip on the handle of the knife and waited. He was dimly aware of a strange sound, a wild honking, as though a flight of geese was passing overhead, but he was looking into the hyena's amber eyes and he had to concentrate, because the beast's shoulder muscles were bunching as it steeled itself to leap.

And then Alec heard Ethan's voice from behind him.

‘I've got the gun,' he said, sounding calm again. ‘Move aside. Gently now,'

Alec swallowed and did as he was told, keeping his gaze fixed on the hyena.

‘Now, you brute,' he heard Ethan say.

And then there was the sharp metallic click of a misfire.

THE ANCIENT AUTOMOBILE
seemed to come out of nowhere, its rusting black chassis clattering on the uneven road, its horn honking repeatedly. Alec realized that this was the sound he had been registering for the past few moments; what he had taken, in his state of confusion, to be a flock of geese.

The vehicle came hammering straight towards him but swerved at the last moment, flinging up a spray of sand. The front bumper clipped the back end of the crouching hyena as it went by, sending the creature tumbling sideways with a howl of pain. The automobile skidded to a halt
and the hyena scrambled back to its feet and ran for its life, yelping. Its two companions, unnerved by the automobile's sudden appearance, took off after it. There was a sudden loud bang that made Alec flinch, and a spray of sand was kicked up just inches behind the last hyena's departing legs.

Alec looked back in amazement. Sitting in the rear seat of the dilapidated Model T Ford was an astonished-looking and rather dishevelled Wilfred Llewellyn. In front of him, standing up on the driver's seat, was a young Arab man in a long white galabiya. He was holding an old-fashioned percussion-cap rifle which he had just fired at the fleeing hyenas. He lowered the weapon and turned to look down at the two people he had just rescued, grinning delightedly at them. He was a handsome fellow, with shoulder-length black hair and dark brown eyes that glittered with intelligence.