The second Arab was a tall thin man with hollow sunken cheeks and a Hitler moustache. He looked like a Hteymi tribesman to the Scorpion. The Arab stalked the aisles of the television section, a Magnum .385 in his hand.

Behind the Arab a bank of television screens all showed the same image, like a pop-art painting. It was an ancient rerun of an American western about a rancher and his sons. It was still popular with the Arabs who liked the close-knit family feeling and the fact that the cowboys lived in a womanless world. The Scorpion had an odd surreal vision as he watched a hundred images of a tiny cowboy stalk someone on a dusty western street while the Hteymi stalked him in an almost identical pose.

The Hteymi came closer. The Scorpion could smell the sweat and fear, although he wasn’t sure whether it was coming from the Arab or himself. The Hteymi stared dangerously at him. He had spotted something! Maybe the Scorpion’s feet. Or blood. Something. The Scorpion had to distract him for an instant.

“Ihtaris! Your friend—over there!” the Scorpion cried out in a falsetto screech which might have come from one of the hags in Macbeth. He pointed towards the refrigerators. But it wasn’t going to work. The Hteymi just grinned evilly and aimed the gun at the Scorpion’s head. The gaps between the Hteymi’s teeth made him look demented. That ugly face would be the last thing he would ever see, the Scorpion thought despairingly.

Just then a cry came from the refrigerator section.

“Alnagda! Otlob al Police!”

Someone must have discovered the body, the Scorpion thought. The gun in the Hteymi’s hand wavered for an instant as he glanced in the direction of the cry. It was all the Scorpion needed.

He slashed with the knife in a wide sweeping curve from under the veil. The blade hit the Arab’s wrist, slicing through the veins and tendons to the bone. The Hteymi screamed as the Scorpion grabbed the man’s now useless gun hand. The Hteymi’s wrist was gushing blood like a faucet. His other hand was around the Scorpion’s throat, his fingers digging deep into the Scorpion’s neck.

The Scorpion kicked at the inside of the Hteymi’s knee, taking them both down. He continued to saw viciously at the Hteymi’s hand as they struggled. The Hteymi hung on like a wild animal. The Scorpion was almost out of air. He began to see spots and lights before his eyes. Losing it, he thought desperately.