The Spear of Destiny - By Julian Noyce Page 0,3

just received laser treatment for my injuries and the bright lights are hurting my face. So if I may ask again could they please turn the lights down.”

The eyes held their stare. The guard glanced at them, in particular the white one again. Then he looked down at the handcuffs and moved his right leg slightly and felt the reassurance of his holstered handgun. Instinctively his fingers touched the butt of his handgun and the prisoner’s eyes followed the movement. The prisoner smiled, the skin on his lips near splitting, the red flesh underneath dancing.

“I appreciate your concerns,” the prisoner said. He lifted his wrists up until the handcuffs stopped them moving any further. The one closest to the guard broke the skin on the wrist and pinkish fluid oozed from the tear, “But where could I possibly run to?”

The guard was watching the sticky substance from the broken skin. Then he looked up into the eyes and nervously nodded.

“Thank you.”

The policeman turned and spoke to the co-driver who looked back at him, glanced at the patient, then shrugged and flicked the interior lights switch, turning them down to a minimum.

“That’s much better. Thank you,” the scarred man said laying back and resting his head on the pillow. His breathing became the wheezing rattle once again. The policeman closed his eyes to try to block the sound out.

“How long have you been a policeman?”

His eyes flashed open again. He ignored the man and closed them again.

“Do you have a family?”

This time he kept them closed.

“I’m not allowed to talk to you.”

“I’m sorry. I just thought a bit of polite conversation might make the journey go quicker.”

“Be qiuet. The journey will be over soon enough.”

The scarred man remained quiet. Unseen by his guard his lips took on a strange smile.

The policeman regretted what he’d said.

’Was I too harsh on him,’ he asked himself. He had had strict instructions prior to leaving to not speak to the prisoner. The man was apparently highly intelligent and dangerous, though he didn’t look it. The policeman felt a certain pity for him.

“I’ve been a policeman for two years. I’m twenty seven and yes I have a beautiful wife and two adorable daughters.”

“Then you’re a very lucky man,” came the reply.

The prisoner remained silent and when it was obvious that he wasn’t going to say anything else the policeman closed his eyes again, not to sleep but to offer a silent prayer that the infinite would always watch over his family.

The convoy moved on through the desert. Occasionally they would pass a dwelling and see lights from within. The colours of their flashing lights reflecting off walls and buildings. Once they passed a line of camels heading in the opposite direction. Their headlights picking out the large, lumbering beasts being led by their masters. The sky was clear and stars twinkled, the full moon giving the sand a ghostly glow.

The man on the gurney lay in silence. The pain in his face starting to ease. He looked out of the side window of the ambulance at the moon. It’s light soothing to him. Natural light was agonising to him. The scars on his face, neck, head and hands from burns he had sustained three months before.

Before his injuries he had been a tall, proud man. A German count and billionaire, a collector of rare artifacts and antiquities. His most recent expedition had been to recover the sarcophagus of Alexander the Great, once held by the German’s in World War II, it had been lost at sea when the British had torpedoed the German’s freighter carrying it. Found seventy years later by a multinational team of archaeologists he had attempted to buy it from them. His money rejected he had taken it by force only to find out that it was in fact not Alexander’s sarcophagus. In a brutal battle on his ship he had been blown overboard in an explosion and pronounced dead. On the mortuary slab his very faint pulse had been detected. He had been treated until he was well enough to be detained in prison awaiting trial and possible extradition to the United States. The laser treatment for his injuries he was paying for himself.

He listened for a moment to his guards breathing which was getting deeper. The man was falling asleep. The scarred man moved his wrist with the broken skin to ease it and the cuff dragged the arm of the gurney and woke the policeman again. The policeman leaned closer