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I looked at Byrne and shrugged. Byrne said, 'Hamiada and I will go to Timia and nose around. We'll make better time on. our own.' He pointed to the Targui who was talking to Hamiada. 'His name is Azelouane; he's Bukrum's son. He'll take you to a place in the hills behind Timia and you stay there until I send for you. There's water there, so you'll be all right.' He looked at the three camels which Azelouane had brought. 'You stay here today; those beasts need resting. Move off at first light tomorrow.'

Within ten minutes he and Hamiada were mounted and on their way.

It took us two days to get to the place in the hills behind Timia so, with the day's enforced rest, that was three days. There was a pool of water which Azelouane called a guelta. He, too, had a small smattering of French so we could talk in a minimal way with the help of a lot of hand language. We were there for three more days before Byrne came.

During this time Billson was morose. He was a very frightened man and showed it. Having a hole put in you with intent to kill tends to take the pith out of a man, but Paul had not really been scared until now. Probably he had reasoned that it was a case of mistaken identity and it was over, his attacker having given him up for dead after burning the Land-Rover. The knowledge that he was still being pursued really shook him and ate at his guts. He kept muttering, 'Why me? Why me?' He found no answer and neither did I. He also got rid of the rest of my whisky in short order. Byrne arrived late at night, riding tall on Yendjelan and coming out of the darkness like a ghost. Yendjelan sank to her knees, protesting noisily as all camels do, and he slid from the saddle. Azelouane unsaddled her while I brewed up some hot tea for Byrne. It was a cold night.

He sat by the fire, still huddled in his djellaba with the hood over his head, and said, 'You making out all right?'

'Not bad.' I pointed to where Billson was asleep. 'He's not doing too well, though.'

'He's scared,' said Byrne matter-of-factly. 'Find anything?'

'Yeah. Two guys – one called Kissack, a Britisher; the other called Bailly. He's French, I think. They're scouring the Air looking for Billson.' He paused. 'Looking for me, too. They don't know about you.'

'How do they know about you?'

'My name had to go on that leaflet,' he said. That's how I figured it. No point in issuing a reward unless you give the name and place of the guy offering it.'

'Where are they now?'

'Gone to Agadez to fill up with gas. I think they'll be back.'

I thought about it, then said slowly, 'That tells us something. They're not just looking for Billson; they're after anybody who is looking for that bloody plane. Billson's name wasn't on the leaflet, was it?'

'No,' said Byrne shortly.

That does it,' I said. 'It must be the plane.' I put my hand on his arm. 'Luke, you'd better watch it. They put a bullet into Billson on sight. They could do the same to you.' I realized that I had addressed him by his given name for the first time.

He nodded. That's what I thought.'

'Christ, I'm sorry to have got you into this.'

'Make never no mind,' he said. 'I'm not going to stick my head up as a target And you didn't get me into this. I did.'

I said, 'So it's Peter Billson's plane. But why? Why should somebody want to stop us finding it?'

'Don't know.' Byrne fumbled under his djellaba and his hand came out holding a piece of paper. 'First results have started to come in. Maybe we should have just offered one camel; they're reporting every goddamned crashed airplane in the desert. Fifteen claimants so far. Five are duplications -reporting the same plane – so that cuts it down to ten. Six of those I know about myself, including that French plane in Koudia I told you of. That leaves four. Three of those are improbable because they're in areas where any crash should have been seen. That leaves one possible.'

'Where is it?' lip on the Tassili n' Ajjer. Trouble is it's way off Peter Billson's great circle course.'

'How far off?'

'About fifteen degrees on the compass. I know I argued that Billson must have been off course – that's why the search didn't find him. But fifteen degrees is too much.' He accepted a cup of tea.

'So what do we do now?'

'Sit tight and wait for more returns to come in.' He sipped the tea and added as an afterthought, 'And keep out of Kissack's way.'

'Couldn't we do something about him?'

'Like what?'

'Well, couldn't Paul go to the police in Agadez and lay a charge of attempted murder?'

Byrne snorted. 'The first thing they'd ask is why he didn't tell the Algerian authorities. Anyway, the cops here wouldn't be too interested in a crime that happened in Algeria.' He was probably right; I doubted if there'd be any Interpol cooperation in the Sahara. He said, 'I'm tired,' and rolled over and went to sleep in his sudden way.