Harmon made a slight course correction. "What are the landmarks we're looking for?"
Selena answered. "Two hills that look like kneeling camels. That’s the key."
"Two hills out of what, two thousand?"
"The manuscript talks about salt mines a day’s journey from the cave. That means Taoudenni and the mines there. Those two hills are somewhere in that area. There’s another landmark, a pyramid shaped pillar of rock. If we find that, we could find the camel hills."
For a while they flew in silence.
"How'd you end up out here, Joe?" Carter asked.
"That's a long story. I didn't have much to go back to in the States." Harmon paused. "I was married. I came back from a year in Iraq and she was five months pregnant."
"Oh."
"Yeah, well, shit happens. No way we could save it. So I filed for divorce and signed up for another tour. I had a buddy who knew the African scene and he convinced me to go partners with him and come here. We got a chance at a plane and took it. I figured two, three years over here, make some money, go back and start a charter business. Maybe out west, the Rockies. He gave it up a year ago and I stayed. Another few months, I would have had enough."
"And now?"
"Now you get my passport back and I'm going home. I've had it up to here with Africa." He sliced his hand in front of his throat in a cutting motion.
Two and a half hours later they closed on Taoudenni. To the north, the unforgiving escarpments of the Algerian mountains rose in a rugged blue haze. To the west lay the great spread of the barren Taoudenni Basin.
They came in low over the village, a desolate huddle of small buildings and tents and open air storage for the salt, all set in the midst of a sea of reddish sand. Thousands of holes pitted the salt flats. Carter saw tiny box-like hovels made of salt, flat, ugly slabs fitted and tied together. They flew over a group of blue-robed men clustered next to camels.
They landed on the single paved airstrip. Harmon taxied to the end, turned around and cut the engine. He popped the canopy and the heat scorched them. There were no other planes, no vehicles, no hangers, no buildings. Just a stretch of black asphalt across the desert. LAX, it wasn't. Carter wondered why anyone had bothered to build it.
If Timbuktu was in the middle of nowhere, Taoudenni was at the end of it. Carter had never seen a place so remote and God-forsaken. A dirty, reddish brown desert extended in all directions. Not a tree, not a shrub, not a green thing as far as the eye could see, only sun blasted rock and drifted sand. It made the Mojave look like a golf resort.
Hell on earth.
They got out of the plane. "I don’t see any Dairy Queens," Selena said.
"Mars must look like this," Carter looked at the distant horizon. "Nice place."
"Here comes the welcoming committee." Harmon pointed at two tall figures swathed in blue robes, riding toward them on camels. Dark blue turbans wrapped their heads. A black veil of cloth covered the lower part of their faces. Each rider carried an AK-47 slung over his shoulder and a bandoleer across his chest.
Less than a hundred years ago downed aviators were tortured and murdered in this region. All infidels were fair game back then, but times had changed. At least Carter hoped they had.
He kept ready to reach for his pistol.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Tuareg riders towered over them on their camels. The camels stank. Carter didn’t like the way the beasts eyed him. The only camel he’d ever paid much attention to was the one on a cigarette pack. He thought about lighting one up. Not a camel, a cigarette. He hadn't smoked in four years, but he still missed it.
"Salaam Aleikum," Selena said.
The first rider looked surprised a woman would speak to him, but he returned the greeting and broke into a stream of Arabic. He addressed the men. Women’s lib wasn’t big out here.
Selena translated. "He asks why we’re here, if we came to buy salt. He says they have the finest salt, the ‘beautiful’ salt. That's the best they have, four levels down. He will offer you a very fair price. Or you would like to buy some jewelry? He’s being rude. Normally they offer tea. Tell him something."
Carter thought. He knew cave paintings had been found in the area, dating back thousands of years to when the desert had been green.
"Thank him and tell him we have heard about the Tuareg salt, the finest in the world, even across the ocean, but that is not why we have come. Tell him we heard there were paintings up here, in the caves in the mountains."
Selena translated. The rider grunted. Carter continued. "Tell him we will pay for information. We heard there might be caves near a tall pillar of rock."
The Tuareg's eyes were impenetrable, his face weathered and burned dark, unreadable behind his veil. He began speaking to his companion in the native dialect. They laughed. He turned back and spoke again in Arabic.
"He says he can tell you where the pillar is, but there are no caves. For 15,000 CFA he will tell you where it is. You cannot walk. You must take your plane, but there is no place to land."
15,000 CFA was about thirty dollars American. Cheap enough. Carter took out the money, careful not to show how much he had with him. He handed it over. The camel snorted and pulled its lips back from huge, yellow teeth. A trail of greenish spit drooled from its mouth.
"Ask him where."
The man pointed toward the mountains and let loose a stream of Arabic. "He says it’s a day’s ride. You go up a long valley. He says the pillar is very tall, as tall or taller than the Mosque in Timbuktu, and that it is shaped like the Mosque. He says Allah put it there to remind the Tuareg of His glory. But there are no caves."
"Ask him if he’s seen anyone who’s not from around here."
A rapid exchange between the men, then more Arabic.
Selena said, "Now that the heat is going, there will be foreigners. But we are the first to come since before the heat. There was a group with trucks then, but they did not come here and they did not buy salt. He says they went south. I think he’s lying."
"Thank him. We’re done here."
A few more words and the tribesmen abruptly wheeled their camels around and rode off.
Carter wiped sweat away. "Let’s top off the fuel and get back in the air in case our new friends decide to come back. Those AKs make them boss around here."
They got the gas out and emptied the cans into the tanks. Minutes later they were airborne.
A "day’s ride" on a camel meant fifteen or twenty miles. Harmon headed in the direction the rider had pointed out. Below, the plain rose to meet the mountains. The sands gave way to stretches of gravel and rock riven with barren ravines and gullies. He spotted a wide valley and banked left to follow it. A tall, pyramid shaped rock formation stuck out at the far end.
"That’s gotta be it," Carter said. "Dead ahead."
They flew past it and circled around.
"You see anything looks like two camels?"
"Follow that long slope." Selena pointed out the canopy. "It looks like the easiest path through the mountains."
The broad, rocky slope led deeper into the foothills. They were close to the Algerian border, maybe already in Algerian airspace. They followed the rise of the slope. Harmon kept five hundred feet above the ground. The slope crested and they came over the top.
"Look." Selena pointed again. Two steep hills rose up about a half mile ahead. Their shapes were distinctive. Two camels, head to head. They flew toward them.
"Someone down there," Carter said.