‘It won’t look good,’ I said.
‘And it was a mistake, wasn’t it — trying to blame it on one of the Emir’s men?’
‘Yes.’ No point in pretending it wasn’t a mistake. The medical evidence is against it; the ballistics expert, too … ‘ We passed out into the sunlight and the humid heat of Bahrain engulfed us like a steam bath. The street was crowded with cars, packed with people, a solid mass of Bahrainis. Gorde was waiting beside his car and he called to me. ‘A word with you, Grant.’ He took me aside. ‘That boy’s going to be convicted if somebody doesn’t persuade him to talk.’
‘I thought you were behind this witch-hunt,’ I said angrily.
‘I made a statement; but I hadn’t all the facts, had I?’ He stared at me accusingly as though I were to blame for that. ‘Now that I’ve heard your evidence, seen the way he’s behaving in the witness box … ‘ He hesitated and then turned abruptly towards the car. ‘Get in, Grant. You, too, Miss Thomas. I want to talk to you.’ And as the driver nosed the car through the crowds, he turned to Sue and said, ‘I think I could arrange for you to see your brother tonight.’
She gave a hopeless little shrug. ‘It wouldn’t do any good. I think he’d rather be convicted, you see, than have the world know that Colonel Whitaker, that legendary figure of the desert, committed suicide.’ She was very near to tears and she added with a hint of wildness in her voice, ‘Just because his father’s dead, all David’s feeling for him, the hero-worship my mother fed him when he was a kid, has returned, magnified a thousand times by the friction there was between them when he was alive. Nothing that I can say will make him change his mind. I know that.’
‘I see.’ Gorde didn’t seem surprised. ‘Then we must think of something else. Nobody’s happy about the situation, least of all the authorities.’ He put his hand out and his gnarled fingers rested for a moment on Sue’s arm. ‘Miss Thomas. Your father was a strange man. And he’d been a long time in the desert. A hell of a long time, and alone.’ He spoke with surprising gentleness. ‘He was a great man in his way. You should be proud of him.’
She stared at him, dry-eyed, her face white. ‘Well, I’m not. I don’t care about him. To me it doesn’t matter a damn whether he killed himself or was killed by somebody else. He’s dead. All I care about is David.’
Gorde sighed. ‘Would it help you to understand him if I told you that he tried to join David in that tower — that David either couldn’t or wouldn’t lower the ladder to him. He actually got as far as the entrance hole but couldn’t pull himself in.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Bin Suleiman. After he left hospital, he disappeared. I’ve had men scouring the desert for him ever since. They brought him in two days ago. Your brother says he was unconscious. So he was, most of the time.’
‘You mean he regained consciousness?’ I asked. And when Gorde nodded I thought he’d found the witness who could save David. ‘Why didn’t you notify David’s Counsel then?’
‘Because it wouldn’t help. Bin Suleiman heard them talking, but he didn’t know who it was David was talking to and he didn’t know what they were saying. They were talking in English. And the fact that Charles climbed up to the entrance hole, which is the only material fact he can add to the evidence, would only operate against David. Bin Suleiman thought it was one of the Emir’s men trying to get in and he reached for his rifle. The effort, or more probably the pain of movement, caused him to lose consciousness again so that he knows nothing of what happened after that.’
‘But it’s sufficient to cause you to change your mind about David’s guilt,’ I said. ‘Why?’
‘Oh, it’s not that. That’s only a fragment of the picture that’s been building up in my mind. One of the first things I did was to send Entwhistle down to take over at Charles’s camp on the Hadd border. He reported the rig gutted, the seismological truck burned out, the place deserted. He had the sense to go on to Saraifa where he had a talk with some of Charles’s men. That raiding party you saw heading into the desert towards the rig attacked the camp at dawn. They came in firing their guns and when they’d got hold of Charles, the Emir’s secretary had him bound to a camel and made him sit there whilst they set fire to everything. When they started back towards Hadd there wasn’t a thing left that they hadn’t destroyed.’
Visualizing the scene, I began to understand how desperate Whitaker’s mood must have been. ‘He said he had some sort of hold over the Emir,’ I murmured. ‘I can even remember his words; he said, “I know that little Emir inside out”.’
‘Probably he did — certainly well enough to know that the man was in a vicious mood and prepared to go to any lengths. I sent a couple of the best Bedouins we’ve got on the payroll into Hadd a month ago. They reported that when he reached Hadd the Emir gave Charles the choice — either he brought his son down from the fort, alive or dead, or he’d be taken out into the Empty Quarter and left there to die.’
‘Didn’t it occur to him that Whitaker might throw in his lot with his son?’ I asked.
‘Oh, it was more subtle than that. The Emir also thought he knew his man. That was why he ordered the destruction of the rig. He offered to finance Charles’s drilling operations once his son was out of the way and the Jebel al-Akhbar in his hands. That’s the story anyway.’
‘But surely the Defence had a right to know-’
‘Rumours,’ Gorde growled. ‘It wasn’t evidence. Besides, how could I be sure what had happened till I knew the facts? I wanted your evidence and David Whitaker’s evidence … ‘ He shrugged. ‘Even now I can’t be sure.’
‘But you think you know what happened?’ Sue was leaning forward, staring at him.
‘Yes, I think I know now. I think Charles realized, after talking to his son, that what he’d regarded as a useless demonstration had, in fact, a chance of succeeding. He wanted to join David then, but probably he hadn’t told his son what the alternative was and David refused to lower the ladder. Charles tried to get into the tower and failed, and then he stood on the edge of the cliff looking down on to Hadd, knowing that if he went back to the Emir he’d be going to his death. It’s a slow death to die of thirst, and it would serve no purpose. Whereas to die quickly, by a bullet … I suppose he’d been allowed to carry a pistol with him and I’ve no doubt he thought that a dramatic end like that-’ He sighed. ‘He’d nothing to live for any more — the rig destroyed, his son doing what he might have done himself. But he could still do something. He could still die. And like that, tumbling down from that cliff top, the news of his death would be spread by camel men from waterhole to waterhole. He still had a great reputation amongst the Bedou and his death would be attributed to the Emir’s treachery. I suppose he thought it might provoke a desert rising against the tyrant.’ He hesitated, and then he gave a little shrug. ‘I’m just guessing, that’s all. I knew Charles very well, and that I think was what was in his mind.’ He looked at Sue then. ‘That’s why, Miss Thomas, I think you should be proud of your father. And he was right in a way. His death did influence the situation. If he hadn’t died like that the Emir might not have agreed to Colonel George’s terms. There might have been fighting and God knows where it would have ended.’
‘You must tell this to the Court,’ Sue said.
But he shook his head. ‘It’s no good, Miss Thomas. The Judge trying this case has been brought out from England. He couldn’t begin to understand the sort of man Charles was — the sweep of his vision, the almost Arab subtlety of his mind. And the only absolute proof — the pistol with one bullet fired — I don’t possess. My men searched the ground where his body was picked up, but they couldn’t find that or anything else that has a bearing on the case. Doubtless the Emir had it destroyed since he wanted to show Charles as a defenceless man murdered by his son. No,’ he said quietly. This is a matter for action now.’ He turned and ordered the driver to head for my hotel. ‘We’ll drop Grant and then you’ll come on with me. Miss Thomas. I’ll arrange for you to see your brother tonight. When you do, give him this.’ He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and removed a thick wad of East African notes. ‘There’ll be a message, too.’ He handed the notes to Sue.