The Amulet of Power - Mike Resnick [46]
“No you can’t,” answered Lara. “Whoever’s giving you your orders wants us alive.”
“He wants you alive,” responded Rahman. “He has no interest in your companions, living or dead.” He paused thoughtfully. “Possibly you would feel more talkative if I began killing each one in turn.”
“They mean nothing to me,” she said with an unconcerned shrug. “They’re just hired guides.”
“Where are they taking you?”
“It’s no secret that I’m going to Khartoum.”
“So the Amulet is in Khartoum?”
“You’re welcome to think so.”
“Why else would you go there?” demanded Rahman.
“To outfit an expedition.”
“To where?”
She smiled. “To find the Amulet, of course.”
He cursed at her and then fell silent.
Well, I took your mind off killing my friends. But I’d better think of something more, before we get to wherever it is you’re taking us.
They’d gone another mile as Lara considered various possibilities, each more suicidal than the last. Then, finally, she remembered Omar’s warning about the dangers of drinking directly from the Nile.
“Are we getting close?” she asked.
“You will know when we get there,” said Rahman.
“Is it soon?” she asked desperately.
He frowned. “Why?”
“I swallowed a bunch of water when I was swimming,” she said, hunching her body over. “I feel . . . I don’t know . . .”
“That is what happens when Europeans drink from the Nile,” laughed Rahman.
“It’s not funny!” snapped Lara weakly. “I’m sick!”
“If the Nile can do this to you, I am afraid you are not going to provide us very much amusement when we extract the secret of the Amulet’s location from you.”
Don’t do this too fast, Lara, she told herself. You’re only going to get one shot at it.
“Go to hell!” she snapped, and acted as if she had decided to stoicly bear her pain. She rode in silence for the next quarter mile, grimacing as if in agony, but not uttering a word, which added to the reality of her performance.
Finally she began groaning aloud.
“What is it now?” demanded Rahman in bored tones.
“Stomach cramps,” she muttered, doubling over—and as she did so, her right hand snaked down, withdrew the Leopard’s Tooth from her boot, and tucked it in the sleeve of her robe.
“English!” he muttered contemptuously.
“I think . . .” began Lara, rolling her eyes.
“You think what?”
“I think I’m going to . . .” She went limp and fell onto the ground.
“Lara!” cried Omar, jumping off his own camel and running up to her. “Are you all right?”
“Get back, son of a pig!” said Rahman harshly. “I will tend to the prisoner.”
She heard the rustling of his robe as he approached. Then he was turning her over roughly. Suddenly she reached out, spun him around, and in an instant she was behind him, the sharp edge of the Leopard’s Tooth pressed against his neck.
His men instantly had their guns out, but Lara had Rahman positioned between them and herself. She backed up until she and Rahman were next to her camel.
“Drop your weapons or he’s a dead man!” she demanded.
“He is nothing!” said one of Rahman’s companions, taking aim. “The Amulet is everything!”
A shot rang out and thudded into Rahman’s body. Lara felt him go limp, but she continued to prop him up as a shield with one hand while she reached into her saddle bag with the other and pulled out a Black Demon. She fired off ten quick rounds and suddenly three of Rahman’s men lay dead on the ground. The fourth fired off a quick shot that struck Rahman’s body with such force that the dead man and Lara fell to the ground. A second hurried shot, aimed at Lara where she fell, hit the Leopard’s Tooth instead, destroying the blade.
The horseman realized that all four of his companions were dead, panicked, and began racing off across the sand. Hassam ran to one of the corpses, picked up a rifle, and took careful aim. It seemed to Lara that he would never pull the trigger, that soon the rider would be out of range, but finally he fired a single shot. An instant later the horse collapsed, and