CHAPTER ONE

 

The vast jet airliner swept through the night - heading East. Its last stop had been Paris, its destination was Singapore. Over the Mediterranean it sped, heading towards the desert lands of Arabia.

There was an extremely select party on board, comprising some thirty people. The atmosphere was subdued. Many composing themselves for sleep. A few were chatting quietly over drinks. There were some ten women and twenty men in the party. The casual observer would have been struck by one paramount fact if he had surveyed the scene. And that fact was the outstanding beauty of six of the women present.

For it must now be revealed that this plane was carrying competitors to the Miss World competition which, that year, was taking place in Tokyo. The rest of the party was composed of organisers of the contest, publicity agents and other assistants.

Let us take a look at these six beautiful women ... for they will occupy our attentions, one way and another, for some time!

They are as follows:

Miss Great Britain - Judy Grant, twenty-one years old, a most attractive brunette even if a little severe and prim in appearance. She had once been a school-teacher - perhaps that accounted for the occasional look of hardness in her dark eyes. Her figure, like her personality, was neat and trim, perfectly proportioned.

Miss France - Yvette Versois, a ravishing redhead of nineteen summers, with green eyes and pert Gallic features. There was a hint of fire in her looks ... and her temperament was indeed fiery.

Miss Italy - Sophia Manzini, a twenty year old with long hair as black as the night. There was much in her voluptuous looks that reminded one of that other famed Italian beauty, Sophia Loren. Her features and her liquid-moving body positively oozed sex-appeal!

Miss Sweden - Ingrid Sorgen, twenty-one years old and as fair as Sophia was dark. She had a big, busty body, but her proportions could not be faulted.

Miss Greece - Helen Pyros, a statuesque beauty with icy, classical features and glorious red-gold hair.

Miss Denmark - Natalie Borde, the youngest of the party at eighteen ... fair-haired and pretty as a picture with large, deep blue eyes.

Those then were the six luscious beauties who sped swiftly through the night each with her own entourage ... each proud and happy in her beauty ... each looking forward to the contest ahead ... each jealous and envious of the others in one way or another.

The jet swept inland from the Mediterranean, now flying into the mysterious hinterland of Arabia ... those vast thinly populated deserts, of which man is still largely ignorant.

 

 

Below in the desert, a thousand miles from anywhere, a patrol of Arab tribesmen moved silently on camels. They were guardians of the outer desert routes that led to the oasis and palace of El-Kabir where, in ancient and magnificent splendour, dwelt their master - Sayed, Caliph of El-Kabir.

Although he had been educated in England - Eton and Cambridge, no less - he was a man who did not concern himself with the twentieth century world, apart from enjoying what comforts it could bring him. He lived and luxuriated in splendid isolation ... his mode of behaviour very like that of his ancestors thousands of years before him. Modern standards and conventions did not concern him. The world could go its own way, he would go his!

And his way was one of the exercising of supreme power by himself. His palace was based on a feudal and slave system. He was the master and owner of all he surveyed. His wealth was beyond the dreams of most western capitalists. The government of Arabia did not trouble him. He was too distant from them ... and his wealth was too valuable to them. They knew of his existence, of course, but they allowed him his own way.

They knew of his traffic in slaves ... but, in those parts, slavery was part of everyday life. It always had been ... and always would be ...

The patrolling tribesmen heard the distant approach of the jet, high above. They heard, too, the sudden explosion ... and then the silence. A few minutes later, out of the darkness, came the rushing, whining sound of the stricken aircraft as it descended virtually out of control.

In a shower of smoke and sand the jet slid on its belly across the sand ... and ground to a halt!

Startled, the nearby tribesmen watched and waited. No fire came. The leader motioned them forward ... and the camels moved swiftly towards the wreck. There would be loot ... there would be captives for their master!

 

 

Only a few of the party had been injured in the wreck. Bewildered and frightened, the rest stumbled from it. It seemed like a miracle when, a few moments later, the tribesmen appeared and surrounded them.

"What luck!" cried one of the publicity men. "A thousand miles from anywhere and we land right by a rescue party!"

There was a general cheer ... and the party tried to sort themselves out in the blackness and confusion. Each group made sure its special 'beauty' charge was well-cared for. All six of them were quite unharmed.

Silently, the tribesmen herded them in one group and sat around with rifles at the ready. Only a few of the party were then worried by the menace of their appearance and their rifles. Some tried to converse with the men - but were brusquely ordered back into the circle.

"It'll be O.K. when dawn comes," said the pilot loudly. "We'll get properly organised then ..."

 

 

With dawn a second party of tribesmen arrived ... and, with them, an obvious leader. Harsh commands were issued. Protesting violently, the survivors were forced into line ... and the leader made a thorough inspection of what he regarded as his captives. His eyes gleamed brightly as he saw the six women in the party ... and he realised at once he had come upon something most unusual.

He took the captain of the aircraft to one side ... and, in his halting English, asked him for full details of the flight. The captain was eager to explain ... at the same time asking that all be transported to civilisation as soon as possible.

The leader made no reply ... but retired to some way off in the desert with his aide. There, for some ten minutes, he appeared to meditate ... conferring from time to time with the aide. Then all the tribesman were assembled round them ... and a brief conference took place.

The leader was an opportunist, who had always served his master well ... and he had just seen the chance of doing his master the greatest service of all time!

 

 

The leader had realised at once that his master would only be interested in six of the captives ... the six jewels of women he had discovered in the desert!

The rest were uninteresting ... and would have to be disposed of. Accordingly the crash would have to be faked to appear worse than it had been. There would be a fire ... and all the occupants would be completely and utterly consumed in it!

There was just one detail that had to be attended to quickly. And that was the substitution of six female bodies for the six women he was going to take captive. But, fortunately, female bodies were no problem in that part of the world ...

Six tribesmen were at once dispatched with specific instructions ... and the remainder, having isolated the six women, fell upon the rest with rifle butts.

 

 

A terrible scene ensued, but soon all but the six women were stowed back in the wrecked aircraft. Several hours later, the bodies of six Bedouin women were placed among them ... and shortly after, the aircraft was set on fire.

Black clouds rolled high into the blue heavens as the petrol exploded. Soon nothing but a vast heap of tangled debris and ashes remained.

Weeping, the six women watched the entire scene from the desert ... now all petrified for their lives!

Thus, reasoned the leader, when searchers finally arrived, they would find nothing but a burnt out shell ... with the remains of the whole company. The six women he had captured would be presumed dead.

In fact, they would be his master's property!