The Seventh Scroll - Smith Wilbur - Страница 46
- Предыдущая
- 46/177
- Следующая
Still howling with fear of the pit and the flames of hell, he darted
away down the path into the Thorn scrub, the skirts of his shamma
swirling about his skinny legs and his shiny black face swivelled back
over his shoulder to watch the approaching machine.
The pilot spotted him immediately, and the nose of the helicopter sank
in their direction. It came directly towards them, slowing as it
approached the lip of the chasm. They could make out the heads of the
two occupants behind the windscreen of the forward cabin. Still
decelerating, the aircraft hung suspended over the river, pivoting on
the spinning disc of its rotor, while Royan and Nicholas crouched down
in the scrub, trying to avoid detection.
"That's the American from the prospecting camp." Royan recognized Jake
Helm, despite the bulky radio earphones and the mirrored dark glasses.
He and the black pilot were craning their necks to search the river
banks.
"They haven't spotted us-' But even as Nicholas said it, Jake Helm
looked directly at them across the open void.
Although his expression did not change, he tapped the pilot's shoulder
and pointed down at them.
The pilot let the helicopter sink lower until it hovered in the opening
of the chasm, almost on the same level as they were. Only a hundred feet
separated them now. No longer making any attempt at concealment,
Nicholas leaned back against the hole of the Thorn tree. He tipped his
Panama hat forward over one eye and gave Jake Helm a laconic wave.
The foreman made no response to the greeting. He regarded Nicholas with
a flat, baleful stare, then struck a match and held the flame to the tip
of the half-smoked cigar between his lips. He flipped the dead match
away and blew a feather of smoke in Nicholas's direction. Still without
change of expression, he said something to the pilot out of the corner
of his mouth.
Immediately the helicopter rose vertically and banked away to the north,
heading back directly towards the wall of the escarpment and the base
camp on its summit.
"Mission accomplished. He found what he was looking for."Royan sat up.
"Us!'
"And he must have spotted the camp. He knows where to find us
again,'Nicholas agreed.
Royan shivered and hugged herself briefly. "He gives me the creeps, that
one. He looks like a toad."
"Oh, come on!" Nicholas chided her. "What have you got against toads?"
He stood up. "I don't think we are going to see great-grandfather's
dik-dik again today. He has been thoroughly shaken up by the chopper.
I'll come back for another try tomorrow."
"We should go and look for Tamre. He has probably had another fit, the
poor little fellow."
She was wrong. They found the boy beside the path.
He was still shivering and weeping, but had not suffered another
seizure. He calmed down quickly when Royan soothed him, and followed
them back towards the camp.
However, when they neared the grove he slipped away in the direction of
the monastery.
That evening, while it was still light, Nicholas took Royan back to the
monastery.
"I believe that the criminal fraternity refer to a reconnaissance of
this nature as "casing the joint"," he remarked, as they stooped through
the entrance of the rock cathedral and joined the throng of worshippers
in the outer chamber.
"From what Tamre says, it sounds as though the novices wait until they
know that the priests on duty are ones that will nod off during their
watch," Royan told him softly, as they paused to gaze through the doors
into the middle chamber.
"We don't have that sort of insider knowledge," Nicholas pointed out.
There were priests passing backwards and forwards through the doors as
they watched.
"There doesn't seem to be any sort of procedure," Nicholas noted. "No
password or ritual to allow them through."
"On the other hand, they greeted the guards at the door by name. It's a
small community. They must all know each other intimately."
"There doesn't seem any chance at all that I could dress up like a monk
and brazen my way through,'Nicholas agreed-A wonder what they do to
intruders in the sacred areas?"
"Throw them off the terrace to the crocodiles in the cauldron of the
Nile?" she suggested maliciously. "Anyway, you are not going in there
without me."
This was not the time to argue, he decided, and instead he tried to see
as much as possible through the open doors of the qiddist. The middle
chamber seemed much smaller than the outer chamber in which they stood.
He could just make out the shadowy murals that covered the portions of
the inner walls that he could see. In the facing wall was another
doorway. From Tamre's description, he realized that this must be the
entrance to the maqdas. The opening was barred by a heavy grille gate of
dark wooden beams, the joints of the cross-pieces reinforced with
gussets of hand hammered native iron.
On each side of the doorway, from rock ceiling to floor, hung long
embroidered tapestries depicting scenes from the life of St. Frumentius.
In one he was preaching to a kneeling congregation, with the Bible in
one hand and his right hand raised in benediction. In the other tapestry
he was baptizing an emperor. The king wore a high golden crown like that
of Jali Hora, and the saint's head was surrounded by a halo. The saint's
face was white, while the emperor's was black.
"Politically correct?" Nicholas asked himself, with a smile.
"What is amusing you?" Royan asked. "Have you thought of a way of
getting in there?"
"No, I was thinking of dinner. Let's go!
At dinner Boris showed no ill effects from the previous night's debauch.
During the day he had taken out his shotgun and shot a bunch of green
pigeons. Tessay had marinated these and barbecued them over the coals.
"Tell me, English, how was the hunting today? Did you get attacked by
the deadly striped dik-dik? Hey? Hey?" He bellowed with laughter.
"Did your trackers have any success?" Nicholas asked mildly.
."Da! Da! They found kudu and hushbuck and buffalo.
They even found dik-dik, but no stripes. Sorry, no stripes."
Royan leaned forward and opened her mouth to intervene, but Nicholas
cautioned her with a shake of the head. She shut her mouth again and
looked down at her plate, slicing a morsel from the breast of a pigeon.
"We don't really need company tomorrow," Nicholas explained mildly in
Arabic. "If he knew, he would insist on coming with us."
"Did your Mummy never teach you no manners, English? It's rude to talk
in a language that others can't understand. Have a vodka."
"You have my share," Nicholas invited him. "I know when I am
outclassed."
During the rest of the meal Tessay replied only in low monosyllables
when Royan tried to draw her into the conversation. She looked tragic
and defeated. She never looked at her husband, even when he was at his
loudest and most overbearing. When the meal ended, they left her sitting
with Boris at the fire. Boris had a fresh bottle of vodka on the table
beside him.
"The way he is pumping the liquor, it looks as if I might be called out
on another midnight rescue mission," Nicholas remarked as they made
- Предыдущая
- 46/177
- Следующая
