"We must go, princess," he said.
"We can't," said the girl. "We'll be killed. All these cars—" Sherif's hand came round her elbow. Wide-eyed with fear, she faced the impossible task of going over a zebra crossing to enter a tube station, to be carried in a machine that went through a hole in the ground.
e e o
It had been terrible. You went into a great hall like a desert, a hall that contained nothing but machines and people, and the people pushed and scurried, the machines made their noises and vomited tickets and coins. Selina clenched her fists so tightly that the nails broke the skin, and willed herself to go down, down with Sherif, on the staircase that moved, to the empty platform, to stand near the shining serpents of track until the red monster roared up, halted, the doors slid open, and she must go inside. Her legs went rigid then; she could not move, until Sherif had said: "It is God's will, princess. If you do not do this thing, we shall both die." She had moved then, endured the alternation of blackness and hght; how beautiful the platforms were—open, spacious, gleaming; how terrible the tunnel, with its blackness so close to her, and the carriage a tube inside a tube. For half an hour she endured it, and then Sherif took her arm once more, the doors opened, and she was free to step outside, to get out of the blackness, up to street level and more cars, which seemed so harmless now, after the enveloping dark.
Sherif had hailed a taxi then, and after that ride they had walked, through streets that were mean and grubby, where the grit crunched under her feet and she could smell the river nearby. They had gone to a boarding-house, and the owner, a Chinese with a permanent smile as meaningless as the register Sherif signed, showed them a room. Sherif took it at once, and paid in advance. The room contained a bed, a chair, a table with a basin and jug of water, a towel hke tissue paper, and a cupboard. The cupboard was locked. The room cost five pounds a day.
"You will be safe here," said Sherif. "The Chinaman never betrays his guests. That is why he is so expensive." He looked in his wallet. "I paid for three days," he said. T have only five pounds left. Have you money, princess?"
Selina dug into the pocket of her pants, poured a shining golden stream on to the rickety table.
Sherif said: "My father used to tell me about the old days. The way the great ones hved. Gold in one hand, death in the other. And they offered both as princes should. You belong in those times, princess."
"You have served me well," said Selina. "Why?"
"First because I feared you," Sherif said, "then because I admired you. Also I think that Schiebel will kill me.
"Go on," Sehna said.
"I believe in everything he has done for Zaarb," said Sherif. "But I think the cobalt scheme is wrong—wicked. I do not think he should give the cobalt to China or to
anyone else. I would stop him if I could, and I believe he knows this. What am I to do, princess?"
"Let my father protect you," said Selina.
"I hate everything about your father," said Sherif. "I hate everything about you—except your courage."
"Go away, then," said Selina. "Start again elsewhere. Here." She picked up a handful of coins, held them out to him. He took them, and mumbled his gratitude.
"It is only money," said Selina. "The way you escaped —that was good. It deserves a reward."
"Schiebel taught me that way," said Sherif.
She looked at him more closely: a weak man, but gifted, intelligent, and with a sense of duty that tormented his weakness.
"You should kill Schiebel," she said.
"I can't," said Sherif.
"It would be better for you, and for what you believe, if Schiebel died." Sherif nodded. Selina said: "I want you to help me find a man called Craig."
« · «
Loomis stuck his thumb on the bell-push and held on. After ten seconds he began to jab at it as if it were a face he disliked. After twenty-five seconds Craig's voice said: "Yes?" and Loomis said: "It's me, dammit." The door opened slightly then, and Loomis saw no one. He pushed the door open, and went inside, and found Craig was behind him, the Smith and Wesson a weight in his hand.
"You take a hell of a time to open a door," Loomis snarled, then he noticed that Craig wore no coat or tie, one shirt button was undone. In the secrecy of his mind, he scored a point to Craig. When the doorbell rang, Craig dressed, because clothes were armor; he put on shoes, because shoes were weapons, and he waited by the door with a gun. Craig was the best he had, because his thoroughness was absolute. If only he weren't so bloody sentimental. He looked at the bedroom door and frowned.
"Company?" he said.
"Board meeting," said Craig. "You'd better take the
chair."
"The Busoni person?"
Craig nodded, went inside the bedroom door, whispered for a while, then came out and locked the door from the outside.
"I don't think she'd better see you," said Craig. "She's sensitive."
He glowered at Loomis, then grinned, reluctantly. "You bastard," he said.
Loomis chose the biggest chair and sat, cautiously. The chair groaned, but held.
"You found out we planted her, did you? I had to be sure about this one, son. It's important, d'you see? I couldn't leave it to a boozer." He leaned back in the chair and clasped his great hands over his paunch.
"Big excitement at AZ Enterprises," he said. "Looks as if the Sehna person may have escaped."
"She went back to the Haram," said Craig. T put her on the plane."
"No," Loomis said. "She got as far as Aden, we know that. Then she reached Zaarb. There was a bit of a disturbance at her hotel, I gather. People killed, that sort of thing. There was a very British sort of chap involved in it too, so I hear."
"Schiebel?"
Loomis nodded.
"I think he's here, too, Craig. He has to be. He can't just let Naxos go."
"But how did he get in?" Craig asked. "Couldn't you have had a watch out for him?"
Loomis cocked his head on one side, and grinned round his beak of a nose. He looked like a monstrous, world-weary parrakeet.
T did, son," he said. T knew it wouldn't do any good but I did it anyway. Just in case he changed his technique. But he hasn't. The Zaarb Embassy had a packing case dehvered last week. Bloody big one. Hundred-and-forty-four-piece dinner service. Sent from East Germany via Zaarb. That's the third this year. They must eat the bloody plates. I think they were both inside it. After that they'd send her to the AZ place."
"And now she's escaped?"
"We think so, son. We've had the place watched, d'you see? Chap coming off duty spotted a couple of Arabs in the tube station. Tall, thin man called Sherif—we know
him. Had an Arab-looking girl with him. Beautiful. Wore slacks and a sweater. Scared stiff of the tube." "Did he foUow them?"
"Of course not," said Loomis. "He'd had no instructions and he'd finished his shift." He scowled. "Policemen," he said. "But, anyway, he heard where they were going— Wapping. I got a search out now, Craig. We got to find her."
"Why the hell didn't you tell me this before?" said
Craig.
The answer was as fast as a reflex.
"Because it's none of your bloody business. You work for the department; you know what I want you to know and that's all, son. Besides"—he raised his voice effortlessly as Craig tried to speak again—"you're a sentimentalist. I have to watch that. It slows you up." He looked at the door Craig had locked.
"Why tell me now?" Craig asked, and thought how smug Loomis could appear. That was his size of course. Whatever expression Loomis chose it was inevitably bigger than anyone else's.