The Power of Five Oblivion

day they had arrived. The keys were still in the ignition. The jeeps were almost identical – apart from the number plates and the fact that one had a bead necklace dangling from the steering wheel and a photograph of Tarik taped to the dashboard. In addition, there were three motorbikes, a dusty Land Rover and two other cars so beaten about that Richard doubted they would even start. He didn’t dare turn on the main lights but fortunately there was a slight glow in the sky, perhaps the moon on the other side of the sand, that provided just enough light for him to see.
    He examined the first of the jeeps, still with no idea of what he might find. There was nothing in the front or the back, just torn seats and the residue of sand. He opened the bonnet and glanced at the engine, then closed it softly. He still didn’t know what he was expecting to find but he had heard the bonnet close so there must have been something about the engine that had interested Tarik and his men. He did the same for the second jeep, even though he was certain that he was wasting his time. What was he even looking for? He was being ridiculous.
    He opened the bonnet and peered inside.
    No.
    It wasn’t possible. He didn’t believe what he was looking at.
    Richard knew that he had to make the most difficult decision of his life. He lowered the bonnet again but very, very slowly. For a moment he stood there, his hands resting against the metal. He looked through the window at the bead necklace dangling from the steering wheel. He thought about the photograph stuck to the dashboard. Yes. It could be done. But was it the right thing to do?
    He made up his mind. There was no other way. He moved away from the jeep, searching for a screwdriver.
    Thirty minutes later, Richard returned to the building where he and Scarlett were staying. He arrived just as Samir was leaving and the second-in-command looked at him suspiciously.
    “What have you been doing outside?” he demanded.
    “I’ve just been waiting here,” Richard said, innocently.
    “I told you that you were not to leave your room.”
    “I had to leave the room because Scarlett was ill. How is she?”
    Samir scowled. “There is nothing wrong with her. She complains of stomach pains but the doctor has examined her and he can find nothing wrong.”
    “Well, you can’t be too careful,” Richard muttered. “All this foreign food…”
    Samir wasn’t amused. “You must go inside now.” The guard who had been there from the start had reappeared and Samir addressed a few words to him in Arabic. “It is late now,” he said to Richard. “We will see you tomorrow.”
    “Six o’clock,” Richard said. “I have to say, I’ll be glad to get out of here.”
    Samir didn’t reply. He walked off into the night.
    Scarlett was waiting for Richard when he arrived back. “Did you find anything?” she asked. “I made a great fuss. I had a whole load of them down here. I was groaning and rolling my eyes and they made me drink some foul medicine and then I pretended I was better. I didn’t know how long you’d be.”
    “I’m afraid it was a waste of time,” Richard said.
    “So you were wrong.”
    “It looks like it. Maybe we had better get a bit of sleep…”
    He couldn’t tell her what he had found. Nor could he tell her what he had done. Richard had decided he just had to go along with it and hope that it all worked out the way he wanted.
    He just prayed that he hadn’t made a terrible mistake.

SIXTEEN
    It was still dark at six o’clock. If the sun was up, it didn’t yet have the strength to break through the clouds. The wind had risen and the sand was more vicious than ever, chasing along the ground, whipping into any exposed flesh, blinding anyone who dared look the wrong way.
    Richard and Scarlett were wearing the clothes they’d had on when they first arrived – washed and even ironed for them the night before. Richard had his backpack strapped to his shoulders. Albert Rémy had appeared in a crumpled safari suit, the sort of thing an archaeologist might have worn forty years ago, carrying a travel case tied with leather straps. He had been living here in Cairo for a very long time and Richard wondered what was so valuable that he needed to carry it with him. Maybe the bag was filled with sand, a souvenir of his time in the desert. The Frenchman seemed both nervous and excited. This was the day he had been waiting for. After ten long years he had finally found Scarlett