The Challenging Heights by Max Hennessy Page B

back to Mosul within two months of the disastrous inspection.
    There had been a lot of trouble recently along the border from disaffected tribal leaders pushed on as usual by Sheikh Mahmoud, who as head of the Sheikhs of Barzinja exerted a continuously disruptive influence. But Mahmoud had finally been forced to withdraw from Persia and once again there had been an uneasy peace until Tafas’ messengers had brought news of a new horde – this time big enough to wipe all the northern villages off the map – heavily armed and without the camels and tents that proclaimed they had their women and children with them. They clearly intended vengeance on the chiefs who had stood by the word of law, and Tafas was understandably nervous.
    ‘Will Window-in-Eye be ready?’ he asked Dicken.
    ‘Window-in-Eye is ready,’ Dicken insisted. ‘His aeroplanes are bombed up and he can come just as soon as I send him word. As fast as an eagle and strong as a tiger.’
    ‘And you?’
    ‘I am watching the north.’
    Dicken was looking at the sky as he spoke. It was grey and opaque and threatened bad weather. Soon the winter would be on them and that would bring an end to the raiding.
    As the days passed, there was no sign of the raiders but somehow Tafas had acquired the information that they were led by Kerim Fatah Agha, who was not only noted as a vicious, merciless killer but was also related to him and considered Tafas had usurped his rights to the leadership of the northern tribes.
    The days grew colder, then, on the day that definite news of the raiders appeared in camp, a signal arrived. Hatto sent an aeroplane for Dicken and, handing him the signal across the folding table that did duty for his desk, he sat back.
    ‘We’re moving,’ he said.
    ‘Who are?’
    ‘You are. I am. The flight. The armoured cars. We’re going to the landing field at Shemshemal on the Persian border south of Sulamainiyah.’
    ‘In winter?’ Dicken’s eyebrows rose. ‘That field closes down at the end of the summer.’
    ‘This year it doesn’t. They say that Kerim Fatah Agha’s up there trying to get across the border.’
    ‘He can’t be up there! He’s here. Just to the north of Kerchian. Tafas has never been wrong yet.’ Dicken’s eyes narrowed. ‘Whose doing is this?’ he demanded. ‘Parasol Bloody Percy’s?’
    ‘It is.’
    Dicken glared. ‘Well, what the hell are you going to do? Sit there and let him get away with it?’
    Hatto sounded weary. ‘Look, old fruit, I know what you feel. I know what I feel. There’s nothing we can do about it.’
    ‘You haven’t even tried!’
    Hatto jumped to his feet and slammed his hand down on the table to send papers flying. ‘Yes, I damn well have!’ he snapped. ‘So you can take that back.’
    Dicken shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, Willie. I ought to have known. It was a damn silly thing to say.’
    ‘Forget it!’ Hatto growled. ‘That bastard, Diplock, gets us all on edge. I sent a signal insisting that Kerim’s here, but it came back signed by that bastard, St Aubyn. We can’t fight both the bastards. Want to see his reply? It says that we leave at once – repeat at once.’
    ‘And Tafas? What happens to him?’
    Hatto gestured wearily. ‘Christ knows.’
    ‘You know what it’s all about, don’t you?’ Dicken said. ‘It’s because I shook the bastard up on that flight to Hinaidi. It scared him rotten and when he’s scared he bites like a weasel. He’s sending us up there because it’s the coldest, most uncomfortable bloody place he can find. You and I, Willie, old lad, are going to spend the rest of our careers fending this bugger off.’
    ‘What concerns me more at the moment,’ Hatto growled, ‘is that before long Tafas is going to be fending off Kerim Fatah Agha. And that won’t work, because Tafas has only a couple of hundred men and KFA’s got a couple of thousand.’
     
    In the hope of proving themselves wrong, Hatto flew north to the border and Dicken pushed the