'He's alive!' I said.
'Not for long if we don't do something.' Byrne spoke to Mokhtar, who went away fast. He then turned the man over so that he lay more easily and put his hand inside his jacket to withdraw a passport and a wallet from the inside breast pocket. He flipped open the passport one-handedly. 'This is your boy; this is Paul Billson.' He gave me the passport and wallet.
I opened the wallet. It contained a sheaf of Algerian currency, a smaller wad of British fivers, and a few miscellaneous papers. I didn't bother to examine them then, but put the passport and the wallet into my pocket.
'We're in trouble,' said Byrne. He indicated Billson. 'Or he is. If he stays another night he'll die for sure. If we try to take him out he'll probably die. You know how rough it'll be getting back to Assekrem; I don't know if he can take it in his condition.'
'It's a question of the lesser of two evils.'
'Yeah. So we try to take him out and hope he survives.' He looked down at Billson. 'Poor, obstinate bastard,' he said softly. 'I wonder how well Hesther knew his old man? She said in her note to you that she'd wired me. I didn't tell you it was a ten-page cable, and she was pretty firm and detailed in her instructions.'
'Has the flow of blood stopped?' I asked.
'Yeah; I have the tail of his shirt wadded into the hole. We can't do much until Mokhtar gets back. He won't be long.'
'You must have known about Paul Billson before I arrived.'
'Sure I did, but he'd taken off by then.'
I said, 'If you hadn't waited for me you could have got here earlier.'
'Not much. I got Hesther's cable the morning you came. I don't know when she sent it, but the communications in this country aren't noted for reliability.'
'But you did lead me a little way up the garden path.' It seemed odd to be making conversation over the body of a man who was probably dying.
Byrne said, 'I wanted time to size you up. I don' t like to travel with people I can't trust. Hereabouts it can be fatal.'
'So I passed the examination,' I said flatly.
He grinned. 'Just by a hair.'
A shadow fell athwart us. Mokhtar had come back. He had brought cloth for bandages, water, and a couple of sand ladders. The sand ladders, as Byrne had earlier explained, were to put under the wheels of the Toyota if we got stuck in sand. They were about six feet long and of stout tubular steel. 'Only stinkpots need them,' Byrne had said. 'Camels don't.'
Byrne tore off a strip of cloth, soaked it in water and put it in Billson's mouth; being careful not to choke him. Then he proceeded to dress the wound while Mokhtar and I lashed the sand ladders together to make an improvised stretcher.
It took us over an hour to get Billson the comparatively short distance back to the Toyota.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
We had travelled two hours' worth into Koudia but it took us four hours to get out from the time Byrne started the engine until we drove beneath the peak of Assekrem. He picked his way as delicately as he could through that rocky desolation but, even so, Billson took a beating. Fortunately, he knew nothing of it; he was unconscious. I tended him as best I could, cushioning his body with my own, bathing his face, and trying to get some water into him. He did not move voluntarily nor did he make a sound.
I had expected Byrne to stop at Assekrem where perhaps we could have got help from the Haratin at the Hermitage, but he drove past the beginning of the path up the cliff and we camped about three miles further on. Mokhtar took a roll of cloth from the back of the Toyota and very soon had a windbreak erected behind which we laid Billson. It was now dark so Byrne redressed the wound in the acid light of a glaring pressure lantern.
He sat back on his heels and watched Mokhtar administer a salve to Billson's blackened face. 'If we can get some water into him he might survive,' he said. 'That's only a shoulder wound and the bullet went right through without hitting bone. Weakening but not killing. He's suffered more from exposure than the wound.'
I said, 'Why didn't you stop at Assekrem? They might have had something to help him.'
'Not a chance.' He nodded towards the Toyota. 'I have more stuff in my first aid kit than there is in the whole of the Ahaggar, if you except the hospital at Tarn. Besides' His voice tailed away, which was odd in Byrne because he was usually pretty damned decisive.
'What's the matter?'
'Do you know anything about Algerian law?'
'Not a thing.'
'Well, Billson broke one of them. He came out here without a per mis.'
'So did you.'
'But I didn't apply for one he did. You can be sure that when he disappeared from Tarn they knew where he'd gone.
There are police posts on all the main tracks out of Tarn and when he didn't show up at any of those they'd be sure. So when he shows up in Tarn he'll be arrested.'
'At least he'll get hospital treatment,' I said. 'And when he's out of hospital I'll stand bail.'
'You'll be lucky,' said Byrne drily. 'Because this guy is going to show up with a bullet hole in him and Algerian cops are no different than any other cops they don't like mysterious bullet wounds. It's going to be a mess.'
He held up a finger. 'One Billson has broken the law, and it's a serious offence. The Algerians are nuts on security and they don't like foreign nationals floating around the desert tribes unobserved. That could mean prison and I wouldn't wish my worst enemy in an Algerian prison.' A second finger joined the first. 'Two he comes back with a bullet wound and that the cops won't like either. It's not an offence to be shot but it means someone else ought to be in jail, and that means trouble where there ought to be no trouble.' A third finger went up. 'Three the guy who was shot is a foreigner and that brings Algiers into the act complete with a gaggle of diplomats. As far as I know Britain broke off diplomatic relations with Algeria years ago. I don't know who represents British nationals here could be the Swiss but that means a three-cornered international hassle, and no one is going to like that.'
'I begin to see the problems,' I said thoughtfully.
'Four,' said Byrne remorselessly. 'And this is the big one. Supposing we take Billson into Tarn and he goes into hospital. It's only a small place and within twelve hours everybody is going to know about the man in hospital who was shot including the guy who shot him
'
' and who thinks he's dead,' I chipped in.
' and whom Billson can identify. What's to stop him having another crack and finishing the job?'
'If he's still around.'
'What makes you think he won't be?' Byrne stood up and looked down at Billson. 'This guy is giving everybody a pain in the ass including me.' He shook his head irritably.. 'If it wasn't for Hesther
' His voice tailed away again.
'Is there an alternative to Tarn?'
'Yeah.' He kicked at the sand. 'But I'll have to think about it.'
He went over to the truck and came back with the rifle, then spoke to Mokhtar who took a full magazine from the pouch hung on his neck. Byrne slipped it into the rifle with a metallic click, worked the action to put a bullet up the spout, and carefully set the safety-catch. 'I suppose you know how to use one of these, Colonel, sir?'
'I have been known to.'
'You might have to use it. It shoots a shade to the left and upwards; say, two inches at ten o'clock at a hundred yards. We'll stand watches tonight.'
I frowned. 'Expecting trouble? I'd have thought'
He broke in. 'Not really, but Billson will have to be watched throughout the night.' He held up the rifle. 'This is for unexpected trouble.'
I stood the middle watch in order to give both Byrne and Mokhtar an uninterrupted run of sleep; I didn't know where we were going if it wasn't Tammanrasset, but wherever it was they would have to take me there, so they were more important than me.
Billson was unmoving but still breathing, and I thought he looked a shade better than he had. For one exasperated moment that evening I had thought of quitting and going back to London. As Byrne had said though less politely Billson was nothing but trouble for everyone who came near him, and I did think of leaving him to stew in his own juice.
But the thought of going back and telling Alix Aarvik about all this made my blood run cold. Besides, it wouldn't be fair on Byrne and Mokhtar who had gone to a great deal of trouble to help a man they didn't know. Also, I would have to be on hand when Billson recovered because someone had to get him out of the country as he had very little money left. And London was far away and receding fast, and I found I quite enjoyed the desert in a masochistic way.
I took the rifle and looked at it in the dim light of the fire. It was an old British Lee-Enfield. 303 and, judging by its low number, it had seen service in the First World War, as well as the Second. I took out the magazine and worked the action to eject the round in the breech, then looked down the barrel into the fire. It was as clean as a whistle and any hardened sergeant would have had to give Mokhtar full marks. He had looked after it well. I reloaded and laid the rifle aside, then checked Billson again.
Towards the end of my watch he began to stir and, just before I woke Byrne, he had begun to mutter, but his ramblings were incoherent. I put my hand to his brow but he did not seem to be running a temperature.
I woke Byrne. 'Billson's coining to life.'
'Okay; I'll tend to him.' Byrne looked at the sky to get the time. He wore no watch. 'You get some sleep. We start early; our next camp is at Abalessa.'
I wrapped myself in my djellaba because it was very cold, and lay down. I wasted no time wondering about Abalessa but fell asleep immediately.
Billson was obviously better in the morning, but he was dazed and I doubt if he knew where he was or what was happening to him. We bedded him down in the back of the Toyota on the camel hair cloth that had served as a windbreak and on a couple of djellabas. 'We can get some camel milk once we're out of Atakor,' said Byrne. 'And maybe scare up some hot soup. That'll bring him around better than anything else.'
We travelled fast because Byrne said we had a long way to go. Coming out of Atakor we encountered the Tuareg camp we had passed on the way in. They were packing up to go somewhere but found some warm camel milk for Mokhtar. Byrne had thrown a djellaba casually into the back of the truck, covering Billson, and stood guard. 'There's no need for anyone to see him.'