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which had a faintly Polynesian look. As he examined the face a pair of coal-black eyes stared back at him.

“I’m not surprised,” Safardi said as Jaime closed the door and retook his place in the passenger seat. “If Allah had blessed us with huge pools of oil you would undoubtedly have heard of my poor country. However, he ended one pool of oil at our northern border and began the next several kilometres outside our southern border. In between, he blessed us with thousands of acres of sand dunes and little else.”

The Silver Cloud moved towards the exit from the airport. At the exit gate, the guard moved smartly to ensure that the progress of the car was not impeded.

Kane looked out the window as the Roller left the precincts of the airport and headed west following a sign for Torremolinos. High-rise apartment buildings and hotels blotted out the view of the sea and climbed the steep slopes which would eventually culminate in the Serranía de Ronda.

“Where to now?” Kane asked.

“My home,” Safardi said, before picking up the phone in the rear of the car and dialling a number.

Kane settled himself back into the deep plush leather seats. He’d had his measure of conversation from Safardi.

The whole area along the coast was one continuous line of buildings. Gaps between the apartment buildings and hotels had been filled with souvenir shops, restaurants, launderettes, supermarkets and every other imaginable kind of commerce. The barren countryside became apparent only on a small stretch of road between Benalmádena and Fuengirola. The developers had not yet reached this section of road and small, white, hilltop villages could still be seen nestling in the brown sea of sun-baked mountains. Towards the sea, rocky crags shot skywards. Giant stalagmites waiting for the crash of the developer’s iron ball to accomplish what erosion had failed to do in thousands of years. They passed through Fuengirola and continued towards Marbella. In the centre of Marbella, the Silver Cloud turned right up a winding hilly road. Kane looked out the window and saw a sign indicating Ojén. Several minutes later the Rolls turned off the narrow road and stopped before a large iron gate set into a two-metre-high continuous concrete wall.

“Home sweet home?” Kane said as the Roller stopped before the gates.

Safardi looked away from the phone but didn’t answer.

Welcome to Strangeways, Kane thought, as the driver opened the electronic gates with a remote control.

They wound their way along a short palm-lined driveway until they reached a huge two-storeyed hacienda-style white building.

Safardi finished his conversation. “So much business and so little time,” he said, waiting for the retainer to open his door. “My humble abode.”

Kane knew nothing about the value of real estate on the Costa del Sol but he knew that he had to be looking at many millions of pounds of bricks and mortar.

Jaime slipped agilely from the passenger side and moved quickly to open his boss’s door.

“When do I go to work?” Kane asked.

“All in good time.” Safardi got out of the car. “All in good time. First, we should get to know one another.” He marched towards the door of the villa with Kane two steps behind him. “You have a mobile phone? Of course, you do. Give it to Jaime.”

Jaime held out his hand. Kane knew if he didn’t produce his phone Jaime would grab him by his ankles and shake until it fell out. He put the phone into Jaime’s open hand.

“You’ll get it back,” Safardi said.

The entrance hall of the hacienda was enormous, heavy wooden Spanish chests lined the walls, and the white marble floor slabs were dotted here and there with Moroccan carpets. Oil paintings of stern-faced conquistadores hung from the white walls.

Kane followed Safardi into a large living room furnished on the grand scale. Classic furniture by Sheraton and Chippendale littered the room whose main feature was a vast picture window which looked down over the hacienda’s swimming pool and beyond to the town of Marbella and the blue Mediterranean Sea.

“It’s a beautiful view, is it not?” Safardi said staring out the window. “It’s no wonder the whole of Europe wants to live in this little corner of the Garden of Eden. It is a pity that you have only one day to enjoy it. Tomorrow you must be on your way but we can discuss that later. At dinner perhaps.”

Kane came to stand beside Safardi. The water in the swimming pool was deep blue and inviting. He looked beyond the pool and saw two men patrolling the perimeter of the villa’s grounds. They both cradled Uzis.

“You’re a little top-heavy on security,” Kane said.

“Spoken like a true Para officer. There wouldn’t be any security if I didn’t need it.”

“How come you know about me and the Paras?” Kane asked.

“You don’t honestly believe that I would bring you here to my home and offer you the possibility of earning large sums of money if I hadn’t already checked you out. I operate in a very delicate industry where one does not advertise for employees in the daily papers.”

A tall, bearded servant in Arab dress, approached with a tray and laid it on a coffee table situated before the only couch in the room. He bowed to Safardi and then left.

“Please, some refreshments. It is the Arab way.” Safardi sat on the couch. “I ordered you a beer.” He passed Kane a bottle of export Carlsberg and lifted a whisky and soda.

“You drink alcohol?“

“Doesn’t everybody. That non-alcohol bullshit is only for peasant consumption. Every educated Arab indulges in a little drinking now and then. Some individuals in high places in exceptionally strict Moslem countries have been known to indulge themselves very often indeed. The religious police are only for the lower classes and, of course, the foreigners.”

“You had me checked out. Satisfied?”

“So far, yes. But I still must see how you perform in my service. Normally people come on personal recommendations.” He called sharply. “Jaime, Pedro.”

The words were barely out of Safardi’s mouth

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