: P.M.)  Caravaggio slips t of the man’s hands.

    “— someone. In late August. Nineteen forty-t  by t armies.” “t?” “Give me tispiece of Kirn ted line for took. It s a portion of India—a darkly cross-can, and Kasains.

    races ill it enters t °o’ latitude. inues sliding , off to ; ouches his rib.

    “ nortropic of Cancer. On tian-Libyan border.”   happened in ?

    I o Cairo and urning from tting trol and er, driving to. It  I ruck exploded and I capsized, rolling automatically into t ing a spark to touc one is alened of fire.

    truck exploded, probably sabotaged. tinued to drift like cities, carrying spice, rooms, government advisors  any given moment among there were Englishmen as well as Germans.

    Leaving truck, I started o, where was a buried plane.

    ait.  do you mean, a buried plane?

    Madox o tials—tra” , crucial for desert fligimes in t augo fly, ture t he wind.

    on’s plane—Rupert—fleo our midst, t arpaulin, pegged do alcoves of U. Sand collected over it gradually for t few years.

    None of us t  again. It im of t. it gully and see no contour of it. By noon’s plane, ten years younger, o our story.

    So you o?

    Yes. Four nig turned back into t. Everywhere was war.

    Suddenly teams.” tin Pas various times saved eac up into camps.

    I o. I got t noon and climbed up into teau. Above the well named Ain Dua.

    “Caravaggio thinks he knows who you are,” hana said.

    thing.

    “ Englisell