He blinked; it was still dark. He felt grittiness in his eyes, and a mouth that was sticky dry. “Christ, I feel like shit. Sorry.” He sat forward, his head thumping.

Tania kneeled. “How’s the head?”

“Not worse.” He rubbed his face. “Just dehydrated. I’ll be fine when we’re under way.”

She punched his arm. “Good man.”

Matt grinned back. “Yes I am. You should see me at my best.”

“Careful, I might take you up on that.” She raised an eyebrow.

Matt toasted her with his canteen and then sipped. He would have liked to swill and spit, but the water was too precious, so he swallowed it down, grit, stickiness and all. He got to his feet and saw that Andy was already up, talking to Abrams. Berry and Hartogg were nowhere to be seen.

Tania had a small pair of field glasses to her eyes and spoke out of the side of her mouth. “Get some food into you, as we’re heading out soon. We’re going to try and put in another ten miles before the sun comes up.” She lowered the glasses. “We don’t have enough water for a full daylight trek; this’ll save us a few pints.”

Matt nodded. “I’ll be ready.”

Andy joined them and Matt snorted. “Hey, you look as bad as I feel.” He motioned to Abrams. “Everything okay with the major?”

“Yeah sure,” Andy said. “He said he might have seen something strange out in the desert last night; like a lump or something moving under the sand. Wanted my advice.”

“That sounds weird; what did you tell him?” Matt tucked his canteen away.

Andy shrugged. “Could be a lot of things. The earth can create a wave effect through seismic activity, stress vibrations, liquefaction – plenty of causes.” He looked around and then grunted softly. “But I doubt any of those are in effect around here. The Middle East is geologically very old and stable. But then again, so were Iowa, Kansas, Montana, Utah, and a hundred other places where the land dropped.” He grunted softly. “Nothing is making sense any more. Don’t think I was much help to him.”

Abrams turned to them and held up a hand.

Tania nodded in return. “Let’s go, boys.” She waved them on.

*

Charles Drummond walked around the man nailed to the top of the wooden table. He hummed softly as he removed objects from his pockets to lay them gently next to the prone figure. At one side of the large room, the man’s servants were perched on wooden stools, hands tied behind their backs, and a noose around each of their necks – there were six of them, but three already dangled, their faces blue, eyes popping and tongues bulging like fat slugs between their lips.

Kroen stood with several men almost as huge as he was, with automatic weapons held loosely at their sides. More men were spread throughout the house – Drummond’s small army had been assembled.

“So, so, so, Doctor Hussein ben Albadi, formerly of Damascus University, well-respected academic, and a man who is moderately wealthy…and now a traitor, and a thief to boot!” Drummond motioned to all the books stacked around the room. “And a very good one, by the look of this treasure trove.”