Deathtrap in the Desert (eBook)

A South African Hero's Struggle in the French Foreign Legion, Book 21

Meiring Fouche (Autor)

Pieter Haasbroek (Herausgeber)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
99 Seiten
Pieter Haasbroek (Verlag)
978-0-00-077878-9 (ISBN)

Infos

In the heart of the Sahara, a sheik's beautiful daughter is stolen.

The only clue left behind is a lie.

One powerful enough to turn allies into bloodthirsty enemies and ignite a war.

Sahara desert, 1940-1960. Captain D'Arlan of the French Foreign Legion lives by a code of honor in a land without mercy. When Somala, the daughter of a powerful sheik, is abducted in a brutal caravan ambush, he and his elite patrol are dispatched on a desperate rescue mission. But at the scene of the massacre, they uncover impossible evidence that frames the Legion itself, turning their quest into a race against betrayal.

Now, D'Arlan's men are caught in a deathtrap. Hunted by the sheik's vengeful warriors who scream for their blood, and stalked by a ruthless band of slavers led by a ghost from Europe's last war, they are trapped between two fires. Failure doesn't just mean their own gruesome deaths. It means drowning the desert in blood and losing the woman they swore to save forever.

This unrelenting desert thriller blends high-stakes mystery with classic, pulse-pounding adventure. Perfect for fans of Wilbur Smith and Alistair MacLean, this is a story of survival, honor, and betrayal under the scorching Sahara sun.

Step into this unforgettable twenty-first Sahara adventure now!

Textauszug

Chapter 2

ONE VULTURE

It was late that same afternoon when a small patrol of the French Foreign Legion settled down to rest on the sharp ridge of a large dune. They had trekked far that day, and their bodies now felt as though the sun had burned the last ounce of energy out of them. The patrol of six men was under the command of an old hand in the Foreign Legion, Sergeant Catroux. Catroux now lay here on his side, surveying the world. His five men were so exhausted that they all lay flat on the sand in the consuming sun, their faces buried in their hands.

But all five started up when Catroux said something, and as he spoke, they all jumped up and stared wide-eyed in the direction he indicated. Just to their left, towards the southwest, they saw the column of riders moving along. Catroux whipped his telescope from his pocket, extended it quickly, and examined the column.

“Arabs,” he announced.

“We can all see that, mon Sergent,” said one of the men, “but what sort of Arabs? Are they Tuaregs?”

Catroux shook his head. “I cannot make out what they are,” he said. “But they seem entirely peaceful. It looks to me like there are about forty or fifty.”

But then the short Frenchman frowned. Those riders were now crossing a plateau, and he immediately noticed, just as Kemal had noticed, that those riders did not ride like Arabs. Each of the men noticed it.

“They ride strangely for Arabs,” said one of the men.

“That is precisely what I was just thinking,” replied Catroux. “This is the first time I have seen Arabs ride like that, three abreast, and yet they are Arabs.”

“Perhaps they have learned something new again,” said one of the men. “Who knows,” replied Catroux, retracting the telescope and putting it in his pocket just as the column descended on the other side of the plateau and disappeared from view. “Let us leave them be,” said Catroux. “They were probably heading somewhere.” It was also just as Catroux settled down again on his side to rest a little that he witnessed another phenomenon. Then he said, “The vultures are quite keen on our trail today. Here comes another flock.”

“They are not on our trail,” said one of the men. “Those vultures are gorged, because they are not searching, they are flying straight and not very high either.”

“By my cabbage patch,” said Catroux, “that is the truth, mon ami. Those vultures have already fed.”

“Perhaps one of the Arabs’ horses gave out,” said one of the men.

“That could easily be,” said another.

“It looks to me like they are flying to Fort Laval to spend the night there,” said Catroux. “I hope it is just a horse they got hold of.” While the Frenchman spoke, he watched the line of vultures slowly and calmly approaching from a north-westerly direction.

But the next moment, he sprang quickly up from the sand and stood there tensely. He now stared intently at the vultures.

“What is it now, Sergeant?” asked one of the fellows. “It almost looks as if the bare-necked birds have bewitched you.”

“Look at that last one,” said Catroux. “Do you see him? He is different. Can you see it?”

The five men all jumped up and now looked with the same concentration as Catroux at the rearmost vulture, which decidedly looked peculiar.

“It looks as if its guts are hanging out,” said Catroux.

“Those are not guts, mon Sergent,” said one of the fellows.

“Then what could it be?”

“It is something hanging out,” said a trooper.

“Or perhaps something tied to it,” said someone else.

The line of vultures approached them rapidly, and the closer they came, the more astonished and amazed the few men looked at that strange phenomenon on the rearmost vulture. Something was hanging and swinging beneath the bird. Apparently, it made him very uncomfortable because now and then he shot rapidly upwards, then downwards again, and then he simply swung sideways, and it was clear that the bird was trying to get rid of that thing, whatever it was.

“Now I won’t speak another word,” said Catroux. “I cannot figure out what is wrong with that bird. Apparently wounded or injured. It looks as if its intestines are hanging out.”

It now seemed to them as though the thing attached to the vulture was a part of itself. Therefore, Catroux suddenly said, “Let us shoot it down. I want to know what is going on here.”

The men all excitedly grabbed their rifles, gave the vultures a chance to come a little closer, all aimed at the rearmost one, and when Catroux gave the signal, they fired. The hapless vulture did not stand a chance. Feathers flew, and with a great fluttering of its wings, it plummeted down towards the desert.

The vulture had barely hit the ground when they were already running. In their tired bodies, there was now again the strength that sudden excitement brings to a person. This patrol through the sand had been rather uninteresting for them. They had encountered nothing worthwhile, except the group of riders they had just seen and now this strange phenomenon of the vultures. Catroux was in the lead. With his bowed legs, he ran so fast that the sand flew, and the other men followed him, breathless, through the hot sun. The vulture had fallen perhaps some two hundred paces from them, and it did not take a hundred years before they saw the bird lying motionless against a dune.

They hurried towards it, and a few paces from the vulture, Catroux stopped short. “Mon Dieu!” was all he said. “It looks to me like this piece of trash comes from Paris,” he remarked. “Apparently, it is a piece of clothing attached to it.” He spoke no further. He quickly walked through the sand closer and knelt beside the vulture. Around the vulture’s left leg, a piece of green silk was firmly tied, a piece of green silk that lay glistening there in the sun. Catroux reached out his trembling hand and touched it. Then he looked questioningly at the few men standing around him in a circle, as if he wanted to hear from them what the origin of this strange phenomenon could be.

“A piece of silk tied to the leg of a vulture here in the desolate Sahara. Can you beat that!”

Catroux untied the piece of silk from the vulture’s leg and mechanically sniffed it. Then he looked up at his men with new astonishment in his eyes. “Perfume,” he said softly. “The faint scent of perfume clings to this thing, mes amis. It must have belonged to a woman.”

“To a woman?” the others asked, surprised, and sniffed it in turn. “Yes, there is not the slightest doubt about it. This is the scent of some expensive perfume.”

Catroux stood up. With a deep frown between his eyes, he looked in the direction from which the vultures had flown. And for a moment, it flashed through him that this patrol, after all, was apparently not going to be as boring and uninteresting as he had thought.

“What do you make of it, Sergeant Catroux?” asked one of the men. “What is behind this?”

“I do not know what is behind this,” said Catroux, “but of one thing I am certain, and that is that someone is in trouble. The piece of silk is a desperate attempt by someone to attract attention and ask for help. That is the only explanation I have for it, but who? That is the question. And where?” Suddenly his eyes brightened. “That group of Arabs!” Catroux said sharply. “I am sure they have something to do with this phenomenon. Of that, I am now completely convinced.”

“What do you mean?” asked one of the men. “What do they have to do with this episode?”

“We must find out, and as quickly as we can,” replied Catroux, and he took the piece of silk from the hand of one of the fellows, put it in the pocket of his uniform, waved his hand, and then they quickly walked back to where they had left their backpacks in the sand.

When they got there, they swung their backpacks onto their shoulders, and Catroux led them away at a brisk pace in a north-westerly direction, towards where the vultures had flown from.

As far as they walked, the men speculated about what had happened here. Who is the woman? Where does she come from? What is she doing in this part of the Sahara? Was she perhaps murdered? Was this piece of silk part of her dress? These were the questions posed, but which remained unanswered while the men moved with renewed energy and interest up one dune and down the next. Catroux led them purposefully in a straight line. The sun sank lower, its power diminished, and as the destructive heat decreased along with the Sahara sun, Catroux’s zeal and determination increased.

Later the sun set, a cool breeze swept over the desert, caressing their sweating cheeks. Dusk arrived, and then the evening, but still Catroux and his small column moved uninterruptedly.

“Shouldn’t we rest first, Sergeant?” one of the men asked hopefully. “In the dark, we could easily miss our objective.”

“The moon is already up, mon ami,” the sergeant replied, and simply led them onward again. “In the moonlight, we will be able to see far.” And as he spoke, the faint glow of the already risen moon was visible over the desert.

Catroux decided to spread his small force wider. Therefore, he ordered his few men to move across the desert a hundred paces apart. If one of them saw anything, he should immediately inform the others. He, Catroux, would move near the middle. The five fellows immediately spread out across the desert, and then they moved onward. In the increasing brightness of the moonlight, they searched the desert with the greatest attention and...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 25.8.2025
• Übersetzer: Pieter Haasbroek, Ai
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-10: 0-00-077878-8 / 0000778788
• ISBN-13: 978-0-00-077878-9 / 9780000778789