The Scorpion knew he had only seconds before half of Arabia was on him. He leaped from the camel and yanked at the tent flap, but it was fastened shut. As he picked up the eunuch’s sword, he heard screaming and gunshots and the sound of a helicopter from the direction of the royal reviewing stand.

Something had gone wrong. Very wrong. But he had no time to find out what had happened. He had to get Kelly now. It was the only chance either of them would ever have. With a single sword-slash, he cut an opening in the side and stepped into the cool dark interior of the tent.

The tent was completely empty except for a single female figure veiled from head to foot and seated on a chair in the center. She was so perfectly still that she had to be either bound and gagged or asleep, he thought. He refused to even think of the possibility that she might be dead.

As he ran to free her, he heard odd sounds from outside, muffled by the tent fabric. Something very strange had happened, but all he could think about now was Kelly. He placed his hand on her shoulder and ripped the veil from her face.

He staggered back in shock, unable to believe his eyes. Because it wasn’t Kelly, but a department-store mannikin tied the chair. Its face was white as marble, the painted eyes at once doll-like and sinister.

He barely had time to react or even realize what a fool he had been when the sound of a gun being cocked caused him to whirl around.

Standing only a few feet away was Bandar, his good eye glittering like dark ice. He was very much alive and he had an AK-47 pointed straight at the Scorpion’s chest. As did a dozen more of Abdul Sa’ad’s soldiers stationed all around the tent.

The Ruins of Dariyyah

The Ruins of Dariyyah

“ALL THAT B-B-BRAVERY w-wasted. How s-silly, dear b-boy,” Braithwaite said, fondly patting the Scorpion’s knee.

They were in a silver-gray Mercedes limousine racing down an untrafficked single-lane road. The Scorpion’s hands and feet were tightly tied with nylon flex. He sat in the middle of the back seat, wedged between Braithwaite on one side and an unsmiling Shiite on the other. The Shiite kept a Walther automatic jammed into the Scorpion’s ribs. Facing the Scorpion on one of the jump seats was Bandar, lovingly caressing an AK-47 pointed at the Scorpion’s chest.