A single shot with an ancient musket, which was all that the security-conscious Royal Guardsmen allowed any contestant to carry. And he had the CM rocket pistol taped to the small of his back for the rescue attempt for Kelly. One on one. Kill or be killed. Things reduced for a single moment to utter simplicity.

Except he couldn’t forget about Macready and how fishy it all smelled. Because it was obvious who Macready must have seen, that caused timid George to make a U-turn and start barreling down the Corniche towards the airport. The one member of the opposition George could have personally recognized. And all because he, the Scorpion, had made a fundamental mistake.

Braithwaite was back in the game.

The Race

The Race

THE AIR SHIMMERED in the heat, so that the thousands of camels gathered near the starting line looked as if they were wading in water to their knees. The noise of the rumbling camels, the riders and attendants shouting instructions, and the screaming crowds made ordinary conversation impossible. Youssef, tightening the last cinch on Basbusa, had to shout to be heard by the Scorpion standing beside him.

“Can you see him?” Youssef shouted.

The Scorpion shook his head. Together they walked around the camel, checking each tie and rope for tightness. With the Scorpion holding the camel’s head still, Youssef unslung a water skin and poured water into her nostrils to calm and refresh her. The Scorpion had to yank hard on the head-rope to control her. The smell of so many camels excited her.

An announcement came over the loudspeakers telling the riders to mount. The babble of voices rose in anticipation. The camels grumbled and roared as riders began to mount. One camel nearby rose up and began bucking wildly, tore away from its handlers and began running desperately out on to the course. Riderless, she raced across the level plain to the raucous cheers of the onlookers.

Youssef plucked at the Scorpion’s sleeve and looked towards the stands. The Scorpion followed Youssef’s glance, searching among the riders. He understood without words that Youssef had been signaled by his brother Faisal, who had been stationed with binoculars on top of a Toyota truck cab, parked behind the crowd.

At first the Scorpion missed him, then a tingle of electricity coursed through his body as he recognized Bandar, wearing the red-checked kaffiyeh and uniform of a Royal Army captain. Bandar swung himself into the saddle atop a magnificent brown camel, which the Scorpion assumed was the famous Bashum. Even after all these years, the Scorpion recognized him instantly. In memory, the features and gestures had blurred. But seeing his enemy in the flesh, there was no mistaking him.