'There is no trace of him anywhere.'
'Well where the hell is his base?' Miles Fairfax demanded, his voice cracked with exasperation.
The young man shrugged apologetically and gestured to say that he didn't have a clue.
'How the hell can one of the most important Sheikhs in El-Saram just disappear, especially when half the rabble protesting on the streets are chanting his name?'
'Perhaps that's why he's disappeared? If the secret police or military knew where he was, they'd grab him. He's a ringleader in this trouble.'
'What about the two SES agents, those girls, where have they got to?' Miles asked, slumping down in his chair and reaching for the glass of lime and soda standing on his paper-strewn desk.
In the last twenty-four hours the discontent that had been simmering for months had suddenly erupted. Demonstrations in the capital had created a heightened sense of tension but more alarming were the unconfirmed reports that there was fighting in the more remote parts of the country. It seemed the desert nomad chieftains had gathered their forces and attacked some outlying military garrisons.
'They were last seen with that guide they hired. Dodgy looking character, some minor chieftain, or so he claims. I think they've gone down to the old harbour.'
'Right, there's nothing to be done here. I can't stand being stuck inside this place with the bloody air-conditioning broken. We might as well take a drive out and see what's going on.'
Half an hour later Miles and his assistant climbed out of their Daimler which they had parked alongside the BMW they recognised as the car the SES agents had hired. They found the two girls sitting on the quayside alongside their guide. All three were eating ice creams and gazing out over the shimmering water.
'So this is where you've been hard at work!' Miles said sarcastically.
'He's gone,' the blonde girl announced matter-of-factly.
'Who? Auda? How?' Miles took off his Panama hat and dragged his fingers through his hair. He could feel the perspiration pouring off him. His lightweight cotton suit was fine for indoors, but out here in the heat he could feel it clinging to him. It was impossibly hot yet somehow the Arab, Fiezal, looked cool and calm in his traditional flowing robes and headdress. The girls looked pretty relaxed too, but then their work clothes seemed more minimalist and he found it difficult to avoid gazing at them. To his embarrassment he felt his cock stiffening and faced with what two such deliciously fit and alluring female bodies were wearing, it was hardly surprising, he consoled himself.
The blonde girl had on a mid-thigh length denim skirt that was slashed up one leg to her hip and a denim shirt whose sleeves were rolled back and which was knotted at her waist and only half buttoned up, so her black lace bra was easily discernible. The dark haired girl had her height accentuated by high-heeled boots and had an olive green mini skirt and a tight white crop-top that left her taut stomach exposed.
'You should be careful in this country with how you dress, girls,' Miles cautioned, seeing that they both had become aware of how he was staring at them.
'Our guide has four armed men at the end of the quay and as long as we're with him there's absolutely no problem. Besides which, we do know how to look after ourselves,' answered the blonde girl tersely.
'I'm sure that's what Miss Farquerson thought. So did you say that you thought that Auda had gone? Do you mean as in left the country? I don't see how, we've been watching the airport and the border crossings. Unless he trekked across the desert...' Miles suggested.
'He left by his own private boat from here, and he took with him two girls and a young man. They're bound for Karunga.'
'Oh my God!' Miles exclaimed. 'I'd better alert London.'
'We've already done so,' the blonde girl smiled smugly, 'Karunga!' Miles moaned. 'This is terrible.'
'Cheer up Miles,' the blonde girl held out her ice cream for him. 'Even as we talk, a rescue helicopter is being loaded with a team of our toughest soldiers. If they can intercept the boat before it reaches Karunga, chances are we'll rescue her. Fancy a lick of my ice-cream?'
Miles, who had been gazing out at the sea looked at the girl and saw her beaming him a smile. Well, perhaps today was going to turn out to be okay after all, he thought to himself.
'Where's the helicopter flying from?' he asked.
'Well, we're lucky; we had a team of marines training in the West Congo. With a bit more luck they'll intercept the boat before it gets to the slave fort.'
'But what if they get there first?' Miles asked, taking another lick from the ice cream the girl held out to him.
'Well in that case, we can say goodbye to another SES girl, poor thing.'
The blonde girl shook her head sadly, then pushing herself down from the stone wall where she was sat, her face brightened.
'Anyone fancy a drink?' she asked.
Giant moths darted towards, then veered away from the naked flames of the torches that the men held aloft. The unseen monkeys in the high treetops screeched, calling to each other. There had been a sudden downpour of heavy rain that had ended as abruptly as it had begun. Now the dense foliage dripped incessantly and the sand under Zoe's bare feet was cool and damp while the air against her bare skin was still so hot the perspiration ran in rivulets down her body.
She followed Auda, her legs weak with fear, her body trembling with nerves as he led her by a leather leash fastened to the collar about her neck. Her arms were drawn tightly behind her back, her wrists bound repeatedly with rope. As she followed him along the narrow path that trailed away from the beach the sand underfoot became strewn with foliage and occasionally she winced as something sharp dug into the soles of her feet. From all around her the men stared, leering and plainly amused by her distress. Their shadowy faces were lit by the torches, whose flames danced in the breeze and gave off the smell of paraffin. In the orange flickering light that punctuated the absolute darkness of the jungle night they looked as ferocious and intimidating as any savages that her imagination could conjure. Some indeed were plainly indigenous natives, wearing only loincloths and animal skins, their sinewy bodies practically naked and long spears and blowpipes held in their hands. Others were Europeans, unkempt in old military jackets and combat fatigues, rifles or machine guns slung over their shoulder. The path climbed higher and the trees closed in obscuring the night sky completely. They came to a high stone wall and the path ended facing a pair of gates set into the moss covered stone. The gates were swung open and Auda tightening his grip on the leash, led Zoe forwards.
Behind her the gates slammed shut with an ominous hollow thud and she glanced back to see two bare broad shouldered men slide a beam of wood across the gates to seal them closed. The men watched her silently as Auda jerked the leash forcing her to stumble after him. The leather felt heavy around her neck and was beginning to chafe her throat. Her shoulders ached from her arms being drawn behind her and she desperately wished that she were anywhere except for this horrible place.
Reaching the veranda of a log cabin they were greeted by a man who Auda knew and the two exchanged pleasantries while Zoe stood obediently at heel. The man, Jose Delgardo, was the commander of the bandits who ran the slave market. Zoe guessed him to be Spanish and she was surprised at his appearance. In her imagination she had conjured some foul mouthed, swaggering and evil looking figure but Delgardo was a slim, clean-shaven, calmly spoken man of early middle age. Dressed in high black leather boots, beige combat trousers and a crisp white cotton shirt, he looked more like some Latin American ranch owner than an African bandit. After a brief conversation with Auda he led them inside. Zoe was ordered to stand where there was a solid iron hook fixed to one of the timbers that formed the wall. Auda looped the leash over the hook and tied it in a knot. Whilst the two men then settled themselves into rattan chairs and Auda was given iced coffee, Zoe was forced to remain standing, tethered by her collar to the wall. She knew better than to make any complaint and waited in sullen silence, listening to the men's conversation. They were calmly discussing the forthcoming sale of a commodity of some worth. The item in question had already attracted much interest on the open market and a good price at auction was expected. The item in question was herself.
'Will you stay for dinner tonight?' Delgardo asked Auda, offering him a cigar, which the Arab declined.
'I will return to my boat, but thank you for the kind invitation. The auction tomorrow is set for what time?'
'Noon. Some clients are here already and the rest are expected in the morning. The girl looks in good condition; she could make you a decent price. There's been plenty of interest.'
As he spoke Delgardo wandered across to where Zoe stood tethered. She caught the strong smell of his cigar and then the smell of his aftershave as he approached her. Her instinct was to shy away but the leather collar tight around her neck reminded her that escape or even momentary evasion of his hands was futile. She stood trying not to show her fear as he ran a hand over her, appraising her just as if she was a commodity for purchase like some racehorse.
'Pretty hair, though of course the blondes still as a rule fetch the better prices.'
'Naturally,' Auda agreed. 'I myself prefer them.'
Zoe shot him a glance, thinking of Vanessa, probably now lying sunbathing on the deck of his boat, her mane of blonde hair spread across the deck, her slender limbs sun drenched and relaxed, while Zoe was trapped here.
'What nationality are your parents?' Delgardo demanded, lifting her face by her chin so that she was forced to look directly at him.