The Seventh Scroll

below them. It was forty miles to the far wall of the canyon, but in the

brilliant rain-washed air it seemed so close that he could reach across

and touch it.

"A coincidence?"he wondered at last.

"Do you think so? A very strange and wonderful coincidence, then.

Pegasus in both Yorkshire and Gojam?

Do you accept that?"

"It doesn't make sense. The truck that hit you was stolen-'

"Was it?" she demanded. "Are we sure of that?"

"If it wasn't, then let's hear your ideas."

"If you were pla

truck conveniently left at a Little Chef for you?"

He shook his head, "Go on."

"Suppose you arranged for your own truck to be placed there for you, and

for your driver to report it stolen only after you had a good head start

on the police."

"It's possible," he agreed without enthusiasm.

"Whoever murdered Duraid, and made two further attempts to kill me,

obviously has considerable resources at his disposal. He is able to make

arrangements in Egypt and England. On top of that, he has the seventh

scroll in his possession. He has our notes and all our workings and

translations which point him clearly to this spot on the Abbay river.

Just suppose that he has control of a company like Pegasus - is there

any reason why he can't be here in Ethiopia, just as we are, right at

this moment?"

Nicholas was silent for a while. He picked up a stone from the ledge

beside him and tossed it out over the cliff.

They both watched it drop away, dwindling in size until it vanished in

the veils of spray far below where they sat.

Abruptly Nicholas stood up and reached for her hand to pull her to her

feet beside him. "Come on," he said.

"Where are we going?"

"Pegasus base camp. Let's go and have a chat to the site foreman."

Boris protested angrily and hurried to intervene when Nicholas climbed

into the Toyota and started the engine, "Where the hell do you think you

are going?, "Sight-seeing." Nicholas let in the clutch. "Back in an

hour."

"Hey, English, my truck!" He ran to catch up with them, but Nicholas

accelerated away.

"Charge me for the hire." fie gri

mirror. -off and followed the They reached the signposted turn side

track over the ridge. The Pegasus camp lay on the far side. Nicholas

braked to a halt on the crest of the rise and they studied it in

silence.

An area of about ten acres had been cleared and levelled. It was

surrounded by a barbed-wire security fence, with a single closed gate.

Three of the massive diesel trucks in their green and red livery were

parked in a rank inside the fence. There were also several smaller

vehicles and a tall mobile drilling rig in the line. The rest of the

yard was filled with prospecting equipment and stores. There were stacks

of drilling rods and steel core boxes, wooden crates of spares, and

several hundred forty-four-gallon drums of diesel and oil and drilling

mud. The drums and the stores were stacked with a neatness and sense of

good order that was startling in this wild and rocky landscape. just

inside the gate stood a small village of a dozen buildings made of

corrugated sheet sections, of the Quonset type. They too were set out in

a street of military precision.

"A big, well-organized outfit," Nicholas commented.

"Let's go down and see who is in charge."

There were two armed guards on the gate, dressed in the camouflage

uniform of the Ethiopian army. They were clearly surprised by the

arrival at the gate of the strange Land Cruiser, and when Nicholas

sounded his horn one of them came forward suspiciously with his AK,47

rifle at the ready.

"I want to speak to the manager here," Nicholas told him in Arabic, with

enough haughty authority to make the entry uncertain and uneasy.

The soldier grunted, went back and consulted his colleague, then lifted

the handset of the two-way radio and spoke earnestly into the

mouthpiece. There was a five minute delay after he finished speaking,

and then the door of the nearest Quonset building opened and a white man

came out.

He was dressed in khaki coveralls and a soft bush cap.

His eyes, covered by mirrored sunglasses, were set in a deeply ta

leathery face. His physique was short and chunky, and his sleeves were

rolled up over hairy, work thickened arms. After speaking a few words to

the guards at the gate he came out to the Toyota

"Yeah? What's going down here?" he demanded in Texan drawl, speaking

around the stub of an unlit cigar.

"The name is Quenton-Harper." Nicholas dismounted from the truck to

greet him, and held out his hand.

"Nicholas Quenton-Harper. How do you do?"

The American hesitated, and then took the hand as though he had been

offered an electric eel to squeeze.

"Helm," he said. "Jake Helm, from Abilene, Texas. I am the foreman

here." His hand was that of an artisan, with calloused palms and lumpy

scar tissue over the knuckles, and half moons of black grease under the

fingernails.

"Terribly sorry to worry you. I am having some trouble with my truck. I

wondered if you had a mechanic who could have a look at it for

me."Nicholas smiled wi

man.

"Not company policy." He shook his head.

"I am prepared to pay for any-'

"Listen, buddy, I said no." Jake removed the cigar from his mouth and

examined it minutely.

"Your company - Pegasus. Can you tell me where your head office is

situated? Who is your managing director?"

"I am a busy man. You are wasting my time." Helm ,,returned the cigar to

his mouth and began to turn away.

"I will be hunting in this area over the next few weeks.

I would not like to endanger any of your employees with a stray shot.

Can you give me some idea of where you will be working?"

outfit here, mister. I don't

"I am ru

id'

He turned and walked to the gate and gave brusque orders to the guards

before marching back to his office building.

"Satellite disc on the roof," Nicholas remarked. "I wonder who our lad

Jake is speaking to at this very moment."

"Somebody in Texas?" Royan hazarded.

"Doesn't follow, necessarily, Nicholas demurred. Tega, is probably a

multinational. Just because Jake is one, doesn't mean his boss is Texan

also. Not a very instructive conversation, I am afraid." He started the

engine and Uturned the Toyota. "But if someone at Pegasus is the ugly

mixed up in this, he will recognize my name. We have given them notice

of our arrival. Let's see what we have flushed out of the bushes."

When they got back to the Dandera river falls, they found that Boris's

truck had arrived, the tents had been erected, and the chef had brewed

tea for them. Boris was less welcoming than his chef, and maintained a

sullen silence while Nicholas tried to placate him for commandeering his

truck.

It was only after his first vodka of the evening that he mellowed

sufficiently to speak again.

"The mules were supposed to be waiting for us here.