Free Harkaway's Sixth Column by John Harris Page A

‘Gimme that! You’re poking about like a tart with a knitting needle.’ His great shoulders working, he jabbed at the rock with the heavy iron bar. ‘How deep do you want it?’
    Harkaway held up one of the packets of explosive. ‘Big enough and deep enough to get one of these in,’ he said.
    ‘How much fuse?’
    ‘Enough to give us time to run.’
    There was only one alarm. A soft whistle stopped them as they worked and, tossing the crowbar behind the rocks, they squatted down alongside the camels.
    ‘These buggers niff a bit, don’t they?’ Gooch said. ‘You ever smelt their breath? I had one belch straight in my face once.’
    A car rushed past at speed. The men in the rear seat didn’t even turn their heads to look at the two men with the camels. As the car disappeared, Gooch got to work again.
    ‘It’s big enough now,’ he said. ‘Shove it in.’
    Harkaway stuffed in the explosive. ‘Better give it an extra one to make sure,’ he said.
    Gooch grinned. ‘Why not an extra two,’ he said. ‘Make no mistake.’
    Stuffing in the last of the explosive, Harkaway attached the fuse. Packing earth round it, he looked up.
    ‘Better shift the camels,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t want the poor sods to go sailing over the hill there.’
    Leading the disgruntled animals down the road, they manoeuvred them info the recess among the rocks.
    ‘Okay?’
    As Harkaway nodded, Gooch put two fingers in his mouth and gave an ear-splitting whistle.
    ‘Could never do that,’ Harkaway commented. Always envied chaps who could. So bloody useful when you want a taxi in London.’
    Almost on top of the whistle there was an answering signal from the dusk and they heard the clatter of stones as Tully began to scramble down the slope towards them. Walking back to where they had planted the explosive, Harkaway paused until he saw the figure of Tully appear, then he lit a cigarette, took a couple of puffs and applied the end to the fuse. Immediately, it began to burn, moving swiftly in short jerky runs.
    Tully was coming towards him, waving his arms.
    ‘Run,’ Harkaway shouted.
    As he set off towards Gooch, he was aware of Tully yelling but he ignored him and they ran together towards the bend in the road. As they fell into the recess where Gooch waited, Tully was fighting for his breath. ‘There’s a -’
    ‘Keep moving,’ Harkaway snapped.
    Gooch picked up the heavy iron crowbar and Harkaway the sack of explosives and they began to scramble among the rocks.
    ‘Listen -’ Tully panted, struggling along behind them. ‘Save your breath,’ Harkaway said. They scrambled part-way up the slope, the stones and shale slipping beneath their sandalled feet. ‘Listen -’
    ‘For Christ’s sake, man,’ Harkaway snarled. ‘Dry up!’ Reaching a ridge, they threw themselves over the other side.
    ‘We’ll be all right here,’ Harkaway panted. ‘Listen -’ Tully was still fighting for breath. ‘What the hell’s the matter with you?’ ‘Somebody’s coming up the pass.’ ‘What?’
    ‘I whistled. Didn’t you hear me?’
    ‘I thought that was to indicate you’d heard our signal.’
    ‘I saw ‘em just as you whistled. They’ll be coming round the corner any minute.’
    ‘I hope they’re not too bloody quick,’ Harkaway said, frowning. ‘I wouldn’t want the petrol to go up with the gorge. That’d be a waste of time and effort.’
    ‘It isn’t the petrol lorry,’ Tully gasped. ‘And it isn’t an Italian. It’s somebody on a camel.’
    Gooch and Harkaway exchanged glances then they stared at Tully.
    ‘A Somali?’
    ‘I’ve never seen a Somali wearing a topee.’
    For a moment they were silent again, then they stared down into the pass. Just as Tully had warned, a solitary camel was just rounding the bend and on its back was a figure wearing a topee, a Somali blanket decorated with flowers wrapped round its shoulders.
    ‘It might be an Italian,’ Gooch said.
    ‘Here?’ Harkaway said. ‘Alone? At this