ONCE MEKKY WAS paid off, he roused up a boy to buy supplies, who returned a short while later with a handcart full of food and water. Mekky saddled and packed the camels as the sun lowered in the western sky. After a tedious argument he got the woman—who seemed uninterested, despite various overtures by Gideon, in introducing herself—to leave behind the sledgehammer, crowbar, and a set of heavy chisels. They set off at sunset, riding toward the boiling orb just as it sank behind the purple mountains. Mekky led the caravan, trailing the two packed camels, and the three of them followed single file in an order Mekky had established: first the woman, then Garza, with Gideon bringing up the rear. Gideon had heard stories about how uncomfortable it was to ride a camel, but he found it wasn’t terribly awkward, especially if he rode with one leg draped over the post. The camel’s walk was herky-jerky, but after a while he got the rhythm of it and even began to enjoy the rocking sensation. The camels, despite being ugly and ragged, seemed steady enough and they did not spit or bite—at least, not yet—although there had been plenty of roaring as they were saddled and loaded.
Garza, on the other hand, did not get into the spirit of it. Gideon could hear the engineer muttering and sometimes cursing at his beast. Clearly the man had no affinity for animals. The woman in front was also having periodic struggles with her camel. Mekky, on the other hand, rode his own mount as placidly as if he were sitting in a Barcalounger.
For five hours they rode across a monotonously flat plain, the air cooling as the light drained from the sky and the stars came out. Never had Gideon seen so many stars, not even in the remote mountains of New Mexico. It was like a vast glowing cauldron, striped by the Milky Way. Mekky broke out singing: a mysterious, repetitive song in a minor key that seemed to have a calming effect on the camels. With no moon, the beasts and their riders soon became black outlines moving in a sea of darkness.
At midnight, Mekky halted. “We rest now!”
“For how long?” Gideon asked.
“Four hours. We start up before dawn.”
“Thank God,” said Garza. “Get me off this bloody beast.”
Mekky came around with his little camel stick and held the woman’s animal by the halter while giving the creature a few light taps. The camel dropped to its knees and the woman was nearly thrown forward on to its neck.
“Hey, give me some warning!”
“You must always remember to lean back when getting on and off,” said Mekky.
Garza also flopped around like a rag doll when the camel dropped to its knees, losing his footing as he dismounted and falling hard into the sand. Gideon, last to dismount, anticipated the move and leaned back, dismounting smartly. He watched with smug, self-congratulatory amusement as Garza slapped the sand off his ass. “Stupid beasts.”
“You ride horses?” Mekky asked Gideon.
“Sometimes.”
“It is helpful to have horse experience! With camels, we must be patient. Mr. Manuel, when you talk to your camel, be soothing and friendly. Do not curse.”
“I’ll curse when I want to.”
Mekky shook his head. “We take care of the camels before we take care of ourselves. That is the rule of the desert. First we unpack.” He lit a small candle lantern and hung it on a tripod of sticks, which threw out just enough light to work by. Gideon and Garza, with Mekky giving polite directions, unstrapped the panniers from the camels, slid them off their backs, and lined them up in the sand. Mekky then led the camels to one side and staked them on ropes. They gratefully sank to their knees to rest and began noisily chewing their cuds.
“And now we take tea!” said Mekky, returning and clapping his hands. He opened one of the panniers and removed a thin but surprisingly large rug, which he unrolled over the sand. Out came some small leather ottomans and a battered wooden box containing a chipped tea set, along with a tiny brass stove with a kerosene wick and two more collapsible lanterns. In a few minutes, a surprisingly intimate tea spread had been created in the desert sands. As Mekky fussed over the setup, boiling the water, the woman unwound her head covering and wraps and set them aside. A mane of blond hair spilled out, which she shook loose. Gideon could see, even in the dim candlelight, that she was very attractive, with a straight aristocratic nose, slender back, and strongly muscled arms. He wasn’t sure what a geologist should look like, but to him she looked more like one of those wealthy, eccentric British travelers who go off into the craziest places, have adventures, and then write books about them.
He cast a quick glance at Garza, who gave him a warning look in return. He was more suspicious than ever.
In a few minutes the tea was ready, heavily sweetened, and poured into glass cups. The night was chilly and Gideon accepted his tea with pleasure. The woman eased down on a cushion and took a glass from Mekky, who then produced a platter of dates and sweet cookies and placed them in the middle of the rug.
“So,” said Gideon, “are we ever going to learn your name? Or do you intend to remain a mystery?”
“Imogen,” the woman said.
“Imogen what?” Garza asked rudely.
She looked at him. “Blackburn. And you are…?”
“Manuel Garza.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Garza.” She did not sound pleased at all.
“And I’m Gideon Crew, in case you missed it,” Gideon said, trying to inject a friendly note.
They shook hands.
“So you’re a geologist?” Garza asked.
“That’s right.”
“Who do you work for?”
“Well, right now I’m working for myself—on my doctoral thesis, in fact.”
“For what university?”
“Oxford.”
“Why the Hala’ib Triangle?”
The woman paused, looking from Garza to Gideon and back again. “Is this an interrogation?”
“It is, in fact,” said Garza.
“What my partner’s getting at,” Gideon hastily broke in, “is that if we’re going to get along in this harsh environment, we should probably get to know each other a little better.”
She looked at him appraisingly. “Really? And here I was hoping not to have to get to know anyone.”
“Why the Hala’ib?” Garza repeated.
“No geologist has ever explored the triangle,” Imogen said after a moment. “I’ll be the first. Geology is one of those sciences still dominated by men, and so I have to be twice as inventive to get ahead. Bloody typical. That’s why I picked this place. Specifically, there’s an unusual—actually, unique—geological formation I want to examine. It’s called a diatreme.”
“What’s that?” Gideon asked.
“It’s a volcanic formation in which magma deep in the earth rises toward the surface, encounters an underground body of water, and essentially explodes. It creates a crater connected to a volcanic pipe below of highly fractured rock.”
“So where exactly is this diatreme?”
“As I told Mekky: west of Gebel Umm. Now, since we’re exchanging information, I’m curious about what you hope to find in the mountains.”
“Just a good story with photos,” said Gideon. “We’re going to photograph the high valleys around the peak.”
“The fog oases?”
“You know about them?” Gideon asked. “Yes, we’re hoping to get some unique pictures up there.”
Imogen tipped back her tea glass. “Enough chat. I’m knackered.” She wrapped her galabeya up around herself and turned on her side, balling up the head covering to use as a pillow.
“Yes,” said Mekky, who had been silent up to this point, his eyes sliding back and forth, listening intently to the conversation. “I go stay with camels. You get sleep!”
Gideon lay back with his hands behind his head and stared up at the immense bowl of stars. It somehow reminded him that roughly six weeks was all the time he had left to look at them. After that…well, after that came the great mystery.
He closed his eyes.