Salim waited until Dan and Anna had been led away and then filled a cup with lukewarm water from a jug on the table and drank deeply.
He swallowed and pointed at Jamil. ‘Contact the Russian,’ he said. ‘Tell him we have what he seeks.’
Jamil nodded and scuttled from the room, his footsteps receding in the confines of the passageway beyond.
Salim replaced the cup on the table and turned it between his fingers. In the candlelight, the moisture on the base of the vessel left circles on the wooden surface. Salim’s eyes traced the patterns while he contemplated his next move.
The fort was easy to defend, and although it was only three storeys high, over the past few months his men had blocked all entranceways save for the main doorway and a smaller one to the rear that was only used to restock provisions, and which remained bolted shut at all other times.
The stature of the building allowed an uninterrupted panoramic view of the surrounding landscape, ensuring no enemies could surprise the fort’s occupants.
Salim’s lips thinned.
The Spanish colonists’ design would work to his advantage all these decades after their demise.
His hand moved to the Englishman’s watch. Holding it up to the meagre light, he grunted in satisfaction. It appeared to be new, a latest model of a well-respected Swiss manufacturer that he’d seen on advertising billboards in the capital.
Salim slipped the strap around his wrist, admiring the workmanship of the timepiece.
‘Spoils of war,’ he murmured.
He frowned and peered closer at the time displayed on the watch face. It would be several hours before the Russian and his men would arrive.
Salim had told the truth to Dan – no-one attempted to cross the Western Saharan desert at night near the borders. Death caused by stumbling onto unexploded ordnance was a very real possibility.
Salim cocked his head to one side as another thought struck him.
That of the American woman currently held prisoner under his command.
He licked his lips.
Would she tell the Russian?
Would he care?
His top lip curled. In his heart, he knew the Russian would gouge his eyes out and have his balls if he touched the woman before the information had been extracted from her.
He clenched his fist and fought down the urges. His time would come.
Salim pulled out one of the wooden chairs next to the table and pushed his dirty robes out of the way as he sat.
Automatically, he reached out for the decommissioned grenade. A smile played across his lips as he withdrew the pin then replaced it, over and over, the pinch and release of metal on metal soothing his fraught nerves.
He straightened his shoulders and reached out for the cup of water, aware he had to remain calm in the eyes of his men, conscious of the fact he couldn’t afford to look fearful or else show his weakness to them.
No, he resolved, he would obey the Russian’s instructions.
He would remain loyal to the Russian’s orders.
And he would claim the American woman as his own.