Honour Among Thieves

Aziz explained, 'You must agree, or you insult his home by suggesting it is not good enough for you to rest in. And by the way, it is an Arab tradition that the greatest compliment you can pay your host is to make your woman pregnant while she sleeps under his roof.' Aziz shrugged. Scott lay awake most of the night, staring through the glassless window, while Hannah hardly stirred in his arms. Having attempted to pay the chief the greatest possible compliment, Scott's mind went back to the problem of getting his team over one of the borders and ensuring that the Declaration of Independence was returned safely to Washington. When the first ray of light crept across the woven rug that covered their bed, Scott released Hannah and kissed her on the forehead. He slipped from under the sheets to find that the little tin bath was already full of warm water, and the women had begun boiling more urns over an open fire. Once Scott was dressed, he spent an hour studying maps of the country, searching for possible routes across Iraq's six borders. He quickly dismissed Syria and Iran as impossible, because the armies of both would be happy to slaughter them on sight. He also felt that to return over the Jordanian border would be far too great a risk. By the time Hannah had joined him he had also dismissed Saudi Arabia as too well guarded, and was now down to only five routes and two borders. As his hosts began to prepare breakfast, Scott and Hannah wandered down into the village hand in hand, as any lovers might on a summer morning. The locals smiled, and some bowed. Although none could hold a conversation with them, they all spoke so eloquently with their eyes that they both understood. Once they had reached the end of the village, they turned and strolled back up the path towards the chiefs house. Cohen was frying eggs on an open fire, and Hannah stopped to watch how the women baked the thin, circular pieces of bread which, covered in honey, were a feast in themselves. The chief, once again sitting at the head of the table, beckoned Scott to the place beside him. Cohen had already taken a seat on a stool and was about to begin his breakfast when a goat walked up and tugged the eggs straight off the plate. Hannah laughed and cracked Cohen another egg before he had a chance to voice his opinion. Scott spread some honey on a piece of warm bread, and a woman placed a mug of goat's milk in front of him. 'Worked out what we have to do next, have you, Professor?' asked Cohen as Hannah dropped a second fried egg on to his plate. In one sentence, he had brought them all back to reality. A villager came up to the table, knelt by the side of the chief and whispered in his ear. The message was passed on to Aziz. 'Bad news,' Aziz told them. 'There are soldiers block- ing all the roads that lead back to the main highway.' 'Then we'll have to go across the desert,' said Scott. He unfolded his map and spread it across the table. Alternative routes were highlighted by a dozen blue felt-tip lines. He pointed to a path leading to a road which would take them to the city of Khalis. 'That is not a path,' said Aziz. 'It was once a river, but it dried up many years ago. We could walk along it, but we would have to leave the truck behind.' 'It won't be enough to leave the truck,' said Scott. 'We'll have to destroy it. If it were ever found by Saddam's soldiers, they would raze the village to the ground and massacre your people.' The chief looked perplexed as Aziz translated all Scott had said. The old man stroked the rough morning stubble on his chin and smiled as Scott and Hannah listened to his judgement, unable to understand a word. 'My uncle says you must have his car,' Aziz translated. 'It is old, but he hopes that it still runs well.' 'He is kind,' said Scott. 'But if we cannot drive a truck across the desert, how can we possibly go by car?' 'He understands your problem,' said Aziz. 'He says you must take the car to pieces bit by bit, and his people will carry it the twelve miles across the desert until you reach the road that leads to Khalis. Then you can put it together again.' 'We cannot accept such a gesture,' said Scott. 'He is too generous. We will walk and find some form of transport when we reach Huwaider.' He pointed to the first village along the road. Aziz translated once again: his uncle looked sad and murmured a few words. 'He says it is not really his car, it was his brother's car. It now belongs to me.' For the first time, Scott