Fic: Stealth and Sudden Violence (Chapter 9)

[anyanka_eg]

Danny awoke with sand in his mouth and pressure on his face, forcing his eyes closed. It was stuffy, like he'd been breathing the same air for a long time. His head pounded and his mouth was dry. He lay still, trying to piece together what had happened and where he was.

He remembered the desert. He remembered shooting, Steve being an idiot, and then it was all blank.

He listened. He couldn't hear a thing. Nothing. The minutes stretched on until he thought he might go mad with just the sound of his breathing to keep him company.

As he listened, he took stock of his body, tensing and releasing the muscles, feeling for injuries. A sharp pain in his right arm and the pounding in his head were the only obvious injuries he could identify. He shifted his legs and felt the same pressure on them as he felt on his face. He moved his arms, finding them pinned close to his sides by the narrow space he was in and the weight on top of him.

Jesus Christ, he'd been buried alive. He sat up, half expecting to meet the lid of a coffin, but instead felt the sand that covered his head and chest slip off. He realized he was under a blanket, the sand on top of that, as it fell away from his face. He blinked in the bright sunshine, his eyes dry and scratchy. God, he needed a drink.

His eyes adjusted eventually and he found himself in the little wadi they'd camped in, in the shade of the boulder they been sheltering behind the night before. He pushed the blanket and it's covering of sand off his legs and found two canteens of water and his gun by his feet.

Relief flooded through him. Whoever had buried him, and he had to assume it was Steve, had known he wasn't dead. He felt the panic that was threatening to strangle him even after he'd realized he wasn't inside a coffin leave. He wasn't in a great place, he knew that, stranded out in the desert on his own, but at least he hadn't been left altogether.

He pushed himself up, managing to stand on wobbly legs with the support of the boulder and looked round the wadi. The car was gone, a fact that made the panic flare again. He walked towards where it had been and saw footprints, a lot of them, and the most obvious ones weren't Steve's.

So, Steve had either left some other way, which was not beyond the realms of possibility, or he'd been incapacitated and put in the car. Obviously Danny was hoping for the former, although the idea that some stranger was driving his beloved car made him want to kill things. Slowly.

It also took away Danny's only chance of saving himself. He might not have been entirely confident he could navigate his way back to Cairo in the car, not in the vastness of this desert, but he had no chance on foot. He knew, and not just because Steve had drummed it into him, that to set off walking in the desert without a lot of experience and a compass, both of which he lacked, was suicide. The heat and dehydration killed fast, especially when it was so easy to become disorientated in the unfamiliar landscape.

He walked unsteadily over to the rocks where the person firing at them had been hidden and found evidence of the scuffle. The sand was disturbed, great sweeps of it as though people had rolled about in it, and there was a pool of blood, partially hidden under a pile of sand. He hoped it wasn't Steve's.

He kicked about in the sand some more, but found nothing else. He walked slowly back to the larger boulder, looking for any other clues as to what had happened in the desert floor, but there were none. He flopped down into the dwindling shadow of the huge rock, on top of the sandy blanket, and reached for one of the canteens.

He gulped down the lukewarm, slightly metallic water and thought it was the best drink he'd ever had. He took another swig before screwing on the cap of the bottle. As much as he wanted to drink more, maybe even wash the grit off his face, he knew he had to be careful with the precious water Steve had left him. If the man had some plan to save him, the least he could do was to be alive when he got back.



The day passed in a haze of pain and discomfort. The sun burned in the clear blue sky, none of the clouds from yesterday in sight. Danny moved from spot to spot in the wadi as the changing position of the sun reduced the shadows to nothing. Eventually, he wedged himself into a cramped hole at the far end of the valley where part of the cliff wall seemed to fold over on itself. It was shaded, but with very little space around him and no breeze it was soon unbearably hot.

Danny drank only sparingly, even though he was fairly sure the pounding in his head was in part down to dehydration. He'd found some beef jerky and a couple of apples that Steve had left him and rationed those, chewing on a couple pieces of meat and an apple about three hours after he'd woken.

He thought about Grace, praying that he'd get to see her again, hoping that even if he didn't Cairo would be safe. He knew Steve had left word of where they were with Russell and with the ambassador, but his biggest hope of rescue lay, after Steve himself, with Chin and Kono. Those guys would wait for another day before finding a car and driving the two hundred miles to find him. He just had to survive that long.

He dozed, on and off, wondering every time he woke if he was supposed to sleep with a head injury. There wasn't much he could do about it, without someone to watch over him, and he figured he needed the sleep. It had been a busy few days and he suspected when someone came for him, it was going to carry on being just as crazy.

He dreamed once of Victor Hesse, a faceless man chasing him and Steve across an endless desert, before cornering them in a Cairo street that appeared from nowhere. Danny awoke with a shout as a dream bullet hit Steve in the chest, his heart pounding. He cursed Hesse, whomever he was, for killing Steve's father and for leading them on this wild goose chase into the desert.

Each time he woke, he checked his pocket watch, drank a few sips of water and stood up to make sure he didn't seize up in the confines of the little cave. And he tried to ignore the tenderness and heat in the wound on his arm that got worse with every hour. An infection was the last thing he needed, but he wasn't surprised by it. Steve had cleaned and dressed the wounds on his arm and on the back of his head, but the fine sand got in everything.

He was standing outside the little cave, in the narrow shadow of the cliffs, when he spotted movement in the distance. The shimmering heat haze generated by the sun had been playing tricks on him all day so he ignored it at first, although he stepped back a little to make sure he was hidden from view. He squinted at the shape, the moving blur out there in the desert, and decided it might actually be real.

It didn't look like a car, but he couldn't be certain, and it seemed to be moving too fast for a person. He pulled his gun out of the holster on his hip and took a deep breath. He wasn't sure what he was going to do if it wasn't Steve. He couldn't stay hidden forever, not if whoever it was decided to search the wadi, but he wasn't going to reveal himself until he had to.

The thing, whatever it was, kept coming, heading straight for the wadi. Danny couldn't look away even though his eyes stung with sand and the glare of the sun. The figure got nearer and nearer, resolving from a blur into a person riding a brown horse. The rider had a white keffiyeh wrapped around his head and a black abaya flapping in the breeze as he pushed the horse forward.

The pair finally thundered into the wadi and the rider pulled on the reigns, bringing the animal to a rearing halt in front of the boulder Danny had woken up behind that morning. The rider jumped off, dismounting with careless grace, and rushed forward towards Danny's hiding place. Danny raised his gun, ready to shoot the mysterious rider.

“Danny?” the rider shouted, rushing towards the boulder. “Danny?”

“Steve?” Danny said, stepping out of his hidey-hole.

“Danny,” Steve croaked, striding over and, before Danny really knew what was happening, enveloping him in a bone crushing hug. “God, I thought... Jesus.”

“Hey,” Danny managed, his arms coming up to hold on to Steve. It was stupid, he was only one man on a horse, but Danny felt as though the cavalry had arrived and nothing could endanger him now.

Steve shuddered, clinging even tighter and burying his face in Danny's neck. Danny didn't quite know what to make of this from the man he thought kept all his emotions, the more complicated ones at least, in a box under his bed. He patted Steve's back and murmured the same comforting noises he did when Grace was upset.

“Leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done,” Steve blurted out, his breath warm against Danny's skin. “You have to understand, I couldn't do anything else. I needed to get help and you were out cold. I had to. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

“Shhh,” Danny interrupted, because Steve seemed to have gotten caught in some endless loop of regret. “It's okay. You did the right thing. I'm safe.”

“I know, it's just,” Steve said, stopping and dragging in a huge breath. He let go of Danny and stepped back, obviously trying to get himself back under control. He scrubbed his hand over his face, pushing away the keffiyeh.

“It's just, what?” Danny asked when it became apparent Steve wasn't going to finish his sentence.

“It's nothing.” Steve was looking around the wadi, refusing to look Danny in the eye. “They took the car?”

“Forget the car,” Danny said, stepping up to Steve and grabbing his arm. “We'll come back to that. First, I want to know what's got you so discombobulated.”

“Discombobulated?” Steve asked quietly, finally meeting Danny's eyes and if Danny wasn't mistaken, leaning into his touch.

“Yeah,” Danny said softly, not rising to the bait and arguing with Steve.

Steve didn't speak for a few moments, just looked down at Danny as though he was drinking in his face like it was the last time he'd see it. “I thought I'd killed you.”

As Steve spoke, Danny could see all the emotion he'd been trying to hide suddenly right there. Everything he'd felt himself was mirrored on Steve's face, although it was slowly being replaced by regret and sadness as the seconds ticked by without Danny saying anything in return. He couldn't believe he'd ever thought this man, this stupid, beautiful man, was an unfeeling automaton.

He couldn't stand it a moment longer. He snaked his hand around the back of Steve's neck and pulled him down, mashing their lips together. He thought he'd made a terrible error for a few moments before Steve unfroze and surged into the kiss like his life depended on it.

Steve groaned into his mouth, his arms wrapping around Danny and pulling him tight against the hard planes of his body. Steve's tongue slid against his, fighting for dominance. Danny wasn't about to cede control just yet, not when he'd taken the first step, and he slid his hand up Steve's chest, brushing his thumb over Steve's nipple through his shirt.

“Christ, Danny,” Steve breathed, breaking the kiss and arching into the touch.

Danny grinned into the warm skin of Steve's neck, nipping and sucking kisses in a line up towards the other man's ear, nosing aside the keffiyeh. He tasted salt and sweat, rough sand, and the underlying tang of Steve. He could become addicted to this, especially if Steve pressed his thigh any tighter against his dick.

Steve shifted, his hand coming up to the back of Danny's head to steer him into another kiss, but the pressure on his head wound made Danny yelp and pull away.

“Jesus, Danny, I'm sorry,” Steve said, clutching Danny's arm and guiding him backwards.

“It's fine,” Danny reassured him, even though he felt kind of nauseous suddenly. “I just need to get in the shade again.”

Danny led Steve back to his little cave, the horse they'd both kind of forgotten about following after them. He felt guilty for ignoring the poor animal's needs over his own. “He needs watering.”

“She,” Steve corrected, helping Danny sit down in the shade. “All the best Bedouin horses are female. I'll take care of her now, and then I'm going to check you out.”

“I'm okay,” Danny said again, not wanting to be fussed over. “Really. Just a bit of a headache.”

“The fact that you're not whining about it tells me it's not fine.”

Danny would have argued with him, except he was right. Both about not feeling that great and about when it was he complained. His old partner back in Jersey always said if Danny was quiet he knew to call the doctor. “Maybe.”

Steve didn't reply, just pulled a leather bowl and a water skin out of his saddle bag. He unfolded the bowl and put it on the floor before emptying the entire skin into it. He patted the horse's neck as she drank greedily. From the back, with his headdress and abaya on, Steve looked every bit like a Bedouin and Danny suddenly wondered where he'd gotten them from. Maybe he wasn't feeling too good if he hadn't thought of that before.

“So what happened to you?” Danny asked as Steve turned around, a small bundle in his hand.

“I need to look at that wound,” Steve said, kneeling down next to Danny and trying to push his head forward.

“Get off, you big oaf,” Danny ordered, swatting his hands away.

“I need to...” Steve started, his expression closing off and his body tensing.

“Stop it,” Danny snapped, his hand cupping the side of Steve's face and softening the reprimand. “Whatever it is you're thinking, whatever doomsday scenario you're planning, stop it. I'm okay, you did the right thing. You can check on my head and my arm, I won't stop you, but I'd like to know what happened after I blacked out. I'd also like that kiss to be the first of many, but if you don't want that, if you regret it, I'll live with that.”

“We shouldn't,” Steve murmured, trying to look determined but failing miserably. “It's illegal. If we get caught, we could lose everything.”

“I know, babe,” Danny replied, smoothing his thumb over Steve's cheek. “We'll just have to be careful. Really careful. Keep it private, only in the house. Your house. Unless Chin and Kono have a problem.”

“They don't,” Steve assured him quickly, before obviously realizing how it might sound. “Not that I make a habit of bringing men to the house. I'm not sure about Kamekona though.”

“Chin can probably find out,” Danny suggested, remembering the explanation for not worrying about Kono and Steve being together. Looking back he was pretty sure Chin was subtly letting Danny know Steve was interested. Sneaky bastard.

“You've got more to lose than me,” Steve said, looking guilty and stupidly sad. “I know your daughter comes first...”

“Stop that night now,” Danny interrupted, his free hand coming up to point in Steve face. “Yes, Grace is the most important thing in my life. Yes, I've made huge sacrifices to be with her. Yes, I would do it again if I have to. No, I won't screw you over for her. She's my life, Steve, but she's not my whole world.”

“Okay,” Steve sighed, drawing in a huge, shuddering breath. Danny thought that he was going to get crushed into a hug again, but Steve seemed to get himself together and settled, smiling at Danny with another, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Danny echoed with his own smile, sliding his hand down from Steve's face to grip his shoulder, giving him a small shake. “Now, how about you get on with cleaning this wound and telling me how you ended up dressed like some desert prince.”

“A prince?” Steve asked, his eyebrow raised and a smug little smile on his face.

“Don't even try to tell me you don't know how good you look on that horse,” Danny said, grimacing as he leaned forward so Steve could take a look at the wound on the back of his head.

Steve didn't reply, but Danny knew he was smirking. As long as he didn’t tell Steve his favorite magazine story featured a hero who disguised himself as a sheik and had improbable adventures in the desert, he figured he could probably survive this relationship, whatever it turned out to be, with his dignity intact. But any more desert hijinks and he wouldn't be held responsible for his actions.



Danny's head had at least stopped bleeding since the last time Steve had seen it, for which he was stupidly grateful. He didn’t like how angry and red the edges looked, however, and knew that he'd be calling in a doctor when they got back to Cairo, regardless of what Danny said.

He opened up the roll of cloth that Hamid had given him before he'd mounted the horse, and pulled out the small bottle of alcohol. He wasn't sure where his friend had gotten it, but he was glad of it. He poured a little on the folded cloth he found in the little first aid kit and gently pushed his partner's hair away from the wound. “This is going to sting, I think.”

“'s okay,” Danny said, his voice a little muffled by leaning forward. “But you could take my mind off it by telling me what happened.”

“Do you remember anything about last night?” Steve asked, making himself not flinch at the memory of Danny crumpling next to him.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed, starting to nod and then realizing that was a stupid thing to do. “Yeah. I remember the guy with the gun at the end of the wadi, you being crazy man and running back to me.”

“Right,” Steve said, dabbing at the cut on his partner's head and wincing a little at Danny's hiss of pain. “Sorry. One of his shots hit the rock behind us and a big splinter of it hit you, that's what knocked you out.”

“I did wonder how he'd gotten a shot over the top of the boulder.”

“When you went down, I thought you were, well, I think I...I needed to get to him,” Steve managed to say, trying to not let Danny know just how lost and frightened he'd been. Once he'd checked Danny had a pulse and was still alive, albeit bleeding, he'd known he had to kill the sniper for either of them to have a chance of getting away.

“You did something crazy, didn't you?” Danny asked, managing to sound both resigned and impressed at the same time. Maybe this explanation wasn't going to be so bad.

“Not crazy, just necessary,” Steve replied, flicking at a tiny sliver of stone he'd not seen in his quick assessment of the wound in the dark of the night. Danny didn't reply, just huffed out a breath, catching it again as Steve worked the stone free.

“Sorry,” Steve said, dabbing at the newly bleeding wound. “I used the shadows again, like I planned to originally, and managed to get over to where he was hidden.”

“I bet he was surprised,” Danny laughed, making something inside Steve loosen and relax for the first time in what felt like years. If he was laughing, he was going to be okay. That’s what Steve was going to keep telling himself, even though he was cursing not having thread and needle to close the wound properly.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed absently, putting a piece of gauze and folded cloth dressing over the wound. “He was better with a rifle than at close quarters.”

“He's dead then?”

“Definitely.” Steve wrapped a bandage over the dressing and around Danny's head. He was worried by Danny’s questions and wanted to get his wounds dealt with quickly. If he didn’t know the man was dead then maybe he wasn’t as alert as he appeared. “I left his body where it fell.”

“It's not there now,” Danny stated flatly, reaching up to feel the bandage as though he needed to test Steve’s handiwork. “I checked the whole wadi when I woke up.”

“They must have taken it with them.” Steve didn’t sigh with relief but felt his stomach unclench knowing Danny had remembered to do a basic check of his surroundings before he spent the day as a potential sitting duck.

“They?”

“Don't really know who they were,” Steve explained, starting to unwrap the dressing on Danny's arm. “Once I'd killed the sniper, I was going to put you in the car and get us back to Cairo, but before I could do it I heard vehicles coming. There was no way I could have gotten out of the wadi and away without them being right on top of us. I couldn't take the chance they'd just pick us off.”

“It's okay, babe,” Danny reassured him, his fingers circling around Steve's wrist and squeezing.

The previous night had been horrific for Steve, in ways he never thought possible given all that he'd done and seen over his years of service. He always tried to never leave a man behind, no matter who it was, but sometimes he'd had to. Leaving Danny, having to make that choice when he knew he wasn't leaving behind a body but a living person who could come to harm, had been the hardest thing he'd ever done. And he'd had to make the choice without talking it through with anyone.

“I knew I had to leave you,” Steve admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I dug out a hole in the sand, where the big boulder would cause a shadow for most of the morning, and laid you in it. I got supplies from the car and covered you and them in the blanket then topped it with sand. I guess it worked, because they didn't find you.”

“They didn't even come over and look,” Danny said, continuing when Steve looked surprised. “No foot prints. All the foot prints were over on the other side of the wadi, near the cliff.”

“They were chasing me,” Steve explained, mentally bracing himself for being yelled at in return. “I needed to lead them away, so I made a trail over to the cliff once, walked backwards in the prints and then ran again to make it look like both of us were going that way.”

“That way?” If Danny was willing to rant at him, he was obviously feeling a lot better. “You make it sound like there's a path. It's a sheer cliff face, Steve.”

“It's not sheer,” Steve objected, even though he kind of knew what Danny meant. “I've climbed harder ascents.”

“In the dark?”

“That was a bit of a challenge,” Steve admitted, if only to placate Danny and finish the story. “I'd just gotten to the top when they drove into the wadi. I made sure they saw me.”

“Crazy,” Danny complained to the world at large, shaking his head despite his injury and rolling his eyes. “They could have shot you.”

“I didn't give them chance,” Steve said, with a quick smile, because he was starting to feel pretty pleased with how well his plan had worked. “I set off running straight away, over the plateau and towards the oasis. I don't know if they tried to follow me up the cliffs, but I never saw another person up there.”

“Because they knew where you were heading, I suppose,” Danny speculated, and Steve could see him trying to remember the map they'd poured over of the region.

“Exactly,” Steve said, pulling his hand free of Danny's and sketching a quick map in the sand. “The mountains extend southwest of here, almost to the edge of the oasis, but I had to come down from them somewhere. They took a guess that I was heading for the oasis, and drove around the mountains to cut me off.”

“You saw them?”

“Not until I'd already made it to the first building of the village,” Steve explained, trying not to bask too much in the awe on Danny's face. “You know what it's like to drive on this bit of desert; it's faster to run.”

“Babe, that's got to be about four miles.”

“Closer to five,” Steve corrected, to get the facts right.

“With a cliff face to scale on the way down,” Danny pointed out, shaking his head in disbelief again.

“It was more of a slide,” Steve admitted, a little sheepishly. “I found a shale skree and just slid down.”

“I'm disappointed,” Danny said with a grin, and Steve just had to smile in return. “And then what?”

“I hid in a barn,” Steve said, which he knew made the little shed he'd found sound way grander than it was. “And I waited for them to leave. They drove around, obviously looking for me, trying to find my tracks I think, but I'd tried to run on every piece of rock I could to not leave any. They got closer and closer to the village and the men started to come out to see that was happening. I think they thought it was a raid.”

“A raid?”

“The Bedouin do attack each other occasionally, steal the goats and horses,” Steve explained, feeling a little awkward because he didn't want Danny to think less of his friends. “It's not common. They actually need to have good relationships with their neighbors, but sometimes it happens. They don't steal women, no matter what you read in the newspapers.”

“It's okay,” Danny said, reading Steve's mind again which he knew should scare him but only gave him comfort. “I don't think they're barbarians. We supposedly civilized folks are butchering each other in France and Belgium right now, so what do we have to boast about.”

Steve smiled at Danny. He knew he probably looked like a fool, but he didn't care. Danny and he were so dissimilar, at least on first viewing, but they shared so much in what they believed, how they treated people, that Steve couldn't believe he'd been so lucky to find him. He was even luckier that Danny seemed to feel the same way about him.

“Go on, you big goof,” Danny teased, grinning at him, his eyes crinkling in a way that made Steve's heart quicken, and nudging his shoulder. He winced and Steve realized they'd both forgotten they had been treating the wound on Danny's arm.

“Okay,” Steve said, picking up a clean cloth and pouring more alcohol on it. “But you need to take your shirt off so I can get to your arm.”

“I bet you say that to all the boys,” Danny said sarcastically, already unbuttoning his shirt and collar.

“I normally stick to 'hello sailor'; gets them every time,” Steve quipped, helping Danny get his injured arm out of the sleeve.

“I'll bet,” Danny leered, giving him a look that was so filled with heat Steve felt himself blush in response. “God, you're gorgeous.”

“Do you want to hear the rest of the story?” Steve asked, ducking his head and fumbling with the cloth. If Danny kept this up, he might just die of embarrassment. If he didn't just throw caution to the wind and push Danny back into the sand to do the things he'd so desperately wanted to try.

“Oh, do go on,” Danny replied, waving his other hand in a magnanimous gesture for Steve to continue.

“Okay,” Steve said, pulling the old dressing off of Danny's arm and frowning at the angry wound he found there. “Once the men came out in the village, all of them with rifles, the cars drove off. I didn't see yours with them, but then they could have gone back and gotten it or someone else could have been driving it away in the other direction.”

“It's okay,” Danny said, obviously trying to sound like it didn't matter, but Steve could tell he was almost mourning for the car.

“We can try to find it once Hamid shows up,” Steve reassured him, turning Danny's arm to get a better look at the wound and not liking what he saw.

“Who's Hamid?”

“He's a relation of Mamo's,” Steve explained, dabbing at the wound with the alcohol soaked cloth and trying to not hurt Danny any more than he had to. There was definitely an infection and the alcohol alone wasn't going to get rid of it. Maybe Hamid's wife would make the a poultice to draw out the infection when they got to the village. “He's some kind of cousin to Mamo's third wife, Isra.”

“Right,” Danny agreed skeptically.

“It's all about family,” Steve explained, knowing that it seemed strange to Western ears. “You can't really do business with each other, whatever it is, until you work out how you're related, even if it's so far distant that you're still really strangers. It's just how it works. Being Mamo's adopted son makes me a relation.”

“You're his son?”

“Kind of,” Steve hedged, trying to work out how to explain it. “I'm not formally, obviously, but Mamo and Alima told people they were adopting me as a favor to an old friend. Most people knew the truth, but this way it made my life easier. And it meant Alima could treat me like her own son and remove her veil.”

“Huh,” Danny replied, clearly thinking over what he'd been told and fitting it into his picture of Steve. He was pretty sure that the information wouldn't have a negative effect on Danny. He'd never told anyone, not even Kono and Chin, that he was part of a Bedouin tribe; it wasn't something you boasted about in what people laughably called polite society.

“Anyway, Hamid lives in the village,” Steve continued with the story. “Once the cars had gone, I came out of the barn and asked for help. It was dangerous, I know, but I speak Arabic and I could use Mamo's name as a calling card.”

“I'm glad you did,” Danny said, flexing his arm under the bandage Steve had wrapped around it. “I thought you might have stolen the horse and the clothes. Knowing what you're like about following the rules.”

“Horses are too well guarded to steal,” Steve told him, helping Danny get his arm back in the sleeve of his shirt. “They're often kept inside the tents in the desert and here they're in people's houses. I didn't fancy trying to get you on a camel. Although most camels argue as much as you do, so maybe you'd get along.”

“Ha ha,” Danny said sarcastically, and punched Steve in the arm. “So are we sharing that horse back to Cairo?”

“Hamid's coming with some of his kin and a horse for you,” Steve explained, checking his watch and realizing it was later than he'd thought. “We'll go back to the village for the night and set off for Cairo tomorrow. It'll take a lot longer to get back without the car. A couple of days, more than likely.”

“Damn it,” Danny cursed. “It's my afternoon with Grace the day after tomorrow. I'll miss it and I can't even let her know.”

“I'm sorry,” Steve murmured, suddenly feeling guilty all over again. He'd dragged Danny out here, gotten them stranded in the desert and now he was going to disappoint the light of Danny's life by not getting him back in time. And they still didn't really have any firm evidence about Victor Hesse and his supposed arms smuggling. There was something going on, for sure, but Steve knew he couldn't identify any of the people chasing him.

“Hey!" Danny grabbed Steve's chin in his hand and made him look up. “Not your fault. I knew what I was doing. I don't want you feeling guilty every time something happens. It'll kill you. And me.”

“Okay,” Steve agreed, not sure he was going to be able to keep his word in reality. He was about to say as much when he heard the sound of hoof beats. He caught Danny's eye, drawing his gun and watching Danny do the same.

“Probably your friend, right?” Danny said, sitting himself up straighter and getting ready to stand.

“Probably,” Steve agreed, standing up carefully behind the little outcrop of rock and offering Danny his hand. “But better safe than sorry.”

Steve leaned out and peered around the rock. Danny was a warm, reassuring presence behind his back, which made facing this set of newcomers to the wadi a whole hell of a lot less scary than the night before. The horses trotted into the wadi and Steve's own mount whinnied in greeting. Steve was pretty sure from that it was Hamid and his friends. Then the lead rider unwound his keffiyeh and Steve could see it was indeed his new friend.

Steve stepped out from behind the rock and greeted them. “As-Salāmu `alaykumā.”

“Wa `alaykumā s-salām,” Hamid replied, smiling at Steve before continuing on in Arabic. “All is well?”

“Aiwa,” Steve said, motioning Danny out from behind the rock. “My friend is well. A little worse for wear, but alive. I cannot thank you enough, Hamid. You are a brother to me.”

“And you to me, Steven,” Hamid replied with a wide grin. Steve wasn't certain how he felt about inheriting a whole new set of family, but it had enabled him to find Danny, so he'd manage.

“What's going on?” Danny asked, obviously frustrated that the conversation was in Arabic.

“I told him we're okay and thanked him,” Steve explained, leaving out that he'd obligated himself to the tribe, although Danny would probably guess that rescue and horses to Cairo didn't come for free.

“Tell him thank you from me, too,” Danny replied, standing up a little straighter. “If there's anything he ever needs in Cairo, he's to ask for me.”

Steve grinned at his friend. Trust Danny to get just what he needed to say, even if he didn't have the language to do it. He turned to Hamid and spoke Danny's words for him in Arabic.

“You friend is a generous man,” Hamid replied with a little bow of his head, obviously impressed that there were two westerners behaving like he and his family were human beings, regardless of the fact they had dark skin and lived in the desert. “Perhaps he is a distant relation, too? Through my wife's large family.”

Hamid's eyes were twinkling as he joked about how things were normally done, but there was an underlying edge of seriousness, too. The nomad understood how valuable a western friend could be, especially one he already knew was in the Cairo Police and likely to have some influence should the tribe run up against the British bureaucracy.

“Hamid thanks you, and wonders if you're in fact a distant relation through his wife's family,” Steve said to Danny, willing him to understand how much of an honor it was without Steve having to explain.

Danny smiled, a shy, pleased little smile, and Steve knew he'd understood. “Tell him I'm sure that one of his wife's distant cousins is married to a Welshman somewhere in New Jersey.”

Steve again translated for Danny, making Hamid and the other men with him laugh. At least everyone was getting along, even with the language barrier. One of the first things he needed to do when this case was solved was to improve Danny's Arabic. He might not be the best teacher, not with the relationship they seemed to be embarking on, but Chin could probably do it. There was no way Danny could be a full part of his life and not be able to join in with parts of it.

“Come, we must leave for the village,” Hamid said, indicating the spare horse he'd brought for Danny. “My wife will be cooking to impress and I don't want it to go to waste.”

Steve wasn't sure how much he was actually going to be able to eat. He had a knot the size of his fist in his stomach and a million unanswered questions buzzing through his mind. He'd put on a good show though, no doubt with Danny's help, and then make sure his partner got some sleep before they set off for the long trek back to Cairo.



Chapter 10