Edge of Danger

'What I find really interesting is Sean Dillon, pride of the IRA, loving moral philosophy.'

'You didn't approve of my cause, Colonel, but I was just as much a soldier as you, and you know damn well that soldiers go beyond position, beyond money, beyond normal success. They stand up and take the sword.'

'To hell with you, Dillon,' Tony Villiers said. 'You're too damn good.'

They started west now, following the tracks of Rashid's column, and gradually the light changed, things got darker. Some miles away, Cornet Bronsby of the Blues and Royals approached with his men toward an improbable rendezvous and was suddenly under fire.

They responded at once. There was an exchange. The column they had reached head-on was Paul Rashid and his group on the retreat from Rama.

There was a brief return of fire, but Rashid's men held them off. Then Bronsby decided enough was enough and ordered his men to retreat. At some time in the confusion, men rushed in from the shadows and overwhelmed him.

Paul Rashid, his sister and Bell pushed south and finally made contact with George Rashid, and dis-covered Bronsby. Paul Rashid was not happy. He sat their with Kate and George and Bell, and Bronsby was brought forward.

In a way. it was like being back at Sandhurst.

This young decent Englishman was a soldier just doing his job. In many ways, so like Rashid. It was a kind of turning point he couldn't really explain to himself. All he knew was that this wasn't the way it was supposed to have happened…

'I know where they are,' Villiers said to Dillon. 'My spies out ahead are earning their money. One of their wounded has confirmed that they've caught Bronsby.'

Dillon said, 'That isn't good, is it?'

'No. They're a very cruel people by nature. What you and I think of as horrific, they think of as normal in a strange kind of way.'

Dillon said, 'So they're going to give him a hard time.'

'I'm afraid so.'

Dillon sat there, smoking a cigarette and thinking about it.

'I don't like that.' He said to Billy, 'Bronsby is what you'd call a posh git, but he was just doing his job.'

'Yeah, well, I don't like it either.'

He turned to Villiers. 'So where do we go?'

'I'd say Shabwa.'

'And what do we do? Take Rashid and the good Kate on face-to-face?'

'To a certain degree.' There was a pause and Villiers said, 'You like her, Dillon.'

'Who the hell wouldn't?' Dillon laughed and lit another Marlboro. 'Go and stuff yourself, Colonel, and let's press on, just in case we can help Bronsby.'

Outside Shabwa Oasis, cooking fires glowed and the Rashid Bedu held the high ground. Villiers and his men were exhausted, but they had enough energy to make something to eat. And then the screaming started. It was just after midnight and continued at intervals.

Up there on the hill, Paul Rashid, George and Kate approached to where Cornet Bronsby was tied down.

Kate said, 'Is this what you want, brother? He was one of your own, a Guardsman.'

'Yes, but that isn't the point.'

'It doesn't bother you?'

'It bothers me a great deal,' he said bitterly, 'but other things are more important.'

A full moon bathed the mountainside in a harsh white light. The men of the Hazar Scouts waited impassively behind what cover there was. They smoked cigarettes and drank the English version of coffee provided in self-heating cans.

Tony Villiers sat behind a boulder with Dillon and Billy, drank tea and topped it up with Bushmills whiskey from a bottle provided by his servant Ali.

'This suit you, Dillon?'

'Perfectly.'

'Not me. I don't drink,' Billy told him.

Villiers said to Ali in good Arabic, 'I'd offer you one, but I know the Prophet forbids it.'

'But the Prophet, whose name be praised, is always understanding,' Ali told him. 'And the night is cold.'

'Then two whiskey sups,' Villiers said. 'One for you and the other for the radio operator.' He nodded to Aziz.

Ali passed the bottle to Aziz, who restricted himself to one swallow, then passed it to Ali, who wiped the neck and had a drink.

Above them there was another scream. It faded away. Billy said, 'What are they doing?'

Ali said, 'The skin – they slice the skin, Sahb. His masculinity they take later.'

The screaming started again.

'I could do with another,' Dillon said. Villiers splashed Bushmills into the Irishman's cup. Billy said, 'It's enough to make me ask for one, but I won't. What I'd like to do is put a bullet in Paul Rashid.'

Villiers said to Ali, 'You know the Sahb up there is twenty-two years?' 'A baby, Colonel.'

The radio crackled. Aziz listened, then turned. 'Visitors, Sahb, a British General named Ferguson and two others.'

'Excellent. Make sure your people are alerted.' Coming up the hill in a Jeep, Ferguson, Blake and Harry Salter wore combat gear and Arab headcloths. The Jeep paused in the shadows and the three men got out. Billy went forward and his uncle put an arm around him.

'So you made it, you young bastard? I hear it was a load of shit. You must be rivalling Billy the Kid.' 'You look interesting.' Billy smiled. 'You didn't get that lot in Savile Row.'

'Billy, I feel like I'm an extra in a Christmas pantomime at the Palladium.'

'Blake Johnson, Colonel Tony Villiers,' Ferguson said, and there was a cry of agony from above. Ferguson was horrified. 'Who's up there?'

'Cornet Richard Bronsby, of the Blues and Royals, Second Lieutenant in the Household Cavalry. He could have been riding around London in a breastplate and helmet. Instead, he's out here being tortured to death by Rashid Bedu.'

The scream that followed was prolonged and appalling. Villiers added, 'I wish we could interfere, but there are too many of them and they have the high ground.'

And up there, Paul Rashid, Kate, George and his men waited beside their own fires, and beyond, in the shadows, Cornet Richard Bronsby lay stretched out and endured torment.

Aidan Bell sat beside the fire, shivering, drank whiskey and smoked a cigarette. Paul Rashid crouched beside him.

'I want you out of here. The staff will expect you at South Audley Street. The Russian Premier arrives in London next week. I'll be hard on your heels. Work something out.'

'Jesus, wasn't Nantucket enough for you? Wasn't this?'

'No, not until I get my revenge. Not until I am satisfied. Land Rovers will take you. Leave now and work fast. I want a plan ready when I get there.'

He stood up and walked away and joined Kate and George at the fireside. She was upset; the screams from Bronsby were hard to take.

'Paul, is this necessary?'

'My people expect it, Kate. It is hard, but it is what they expect.'

She sat there, unhappy, upset. Bronsby cried out again, quite dreadfully, on and on before stopping.

Ali said, 'I think he has gone, Sahb.'

Villiers sat there brooding about it. Ferguson said, 'Dear God.'

Dillon turned to Blake. 'Well, there you go. It must remind you of the joys of the Vietcong in the Mekong Delta.'

Harry Salter said, 'And we let people like these into the country.'

Dillon managed a hard smile. 'Why, Harry. You're a racist.'

Villiers picked up an AK. 'All right. That's enough, Ali, let's take a look. I've waited long enough.'

Dillon said, 'Would you mind some company?'

Villiers hesitated, then said, 'I suppose that at the end of the day we are from the same side of the street. Let's do it.'

They went up the hill, Villiers, Dillon, Billy, Harry, and Blake, and they found Cornet Bronsby pegged out. He was quite dead, his skin peeled down from the chest, his private parts stuffed in his mouth.

'There was no need for that, Sahb,' Ali said. 'I am ashamed. There is no honour in this.'

He was carrying an old British Lee Enfield bolt action rifle. As he turned to lead the way, he stumbled, tripped and fell over, the rifle flying from his hands. Dillon helped him to his feet and Villiers picked up his rifle.