Cry Wolf - Smith Wilbur - Страница 42
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us."
"Good God, Toffee," Gareth intoned mournfully. "I must say I am
appalled. Utterly appalled."
"Does that mean you refuse, Major
Swales?" Gareth glanced at Jake, and a flash of agreement passed
between them. Gareth sighed theatrically. "Well, I must say that I
did have an appointment in Madrid. They've got themselves this little
war they are working on, but-" and here he studied the bank draft
again, "but one war is very much like another. Furthermore, you have
given me some fairly powerful reasons why I should stay on." Gareth
withdrew the wallet from his inside pocket and folded the draft into
it. "However, that doesn't alter the fact that I am utterly appalled
by the way this whole business has been conducted."
"And you, Mr.
Barton?" Lij Mikhael asked.
"As my partner has just remarked fourteen thousand pounds isn't exactly
peanuts. Yes, I accept." The Prince nodded, and then his expression
changed, became bleak and savage.
"I must urge you most cogently not to attempt to leave Ethiopia before
the expiry of our agreement justice is crude but effective under my
father's administration." At that moment the gentleman under
discussion lifted the sword high above his head and then drove the
point deep into the earth between his feet. He left it there, the
blade shivering and gleaming in the firelight, and staggered wheezing
and cackling to his place between Jake and Gareth.
He flung a skinny old arm around each of them and greeted them with a
hug and an affectionate cry of "How do you do?" and Gareth cocked a
speculative eye at him.
"How would you like to learn to play gin rummy, old son?" he asked
kindly. Six months was a lot of time to while away and there might yet
be further profit in the situation, he thought.
The sound of the drums woke Count Aldo Belli from a deep,
untroubled sleep. He lay and listened to them for a while, to the deep
monotonous rhythm like the pulse of the earth itself, and the effect
was lulling and hypnotic. Then suddenly the Count came fully awake and
the adrenalin poured hotly into his bloodstream. A month before
leaving Rome he had attended a screening of the latest Hollywood
release, Trader Horn, an African epic of wild animals and bloodthirsty
tribesmen. The sound of tribal drums had been skilfully used on the
sound track to heighten the sense of menace and suspense, and the Count
now realized that out there in the night the same terrible drums were
beating.
He came out of his bed in a single bound with a roar that woke those in
the camp who were still asleep. When Gino rushed into the tent, he
found his master standing stark-naked and wild-eyed in the centre of
his tent with the ivory-handled Beretta in one hand and the jewelled
dagger clutched in the other.
The instant the drums began beating, Luigi Castelani hurried back to
the bivouac, for he knew exactly what " reaction to expect from the
colonel. He arrived to find that the Count was fully uniformed,
had selected a bodyguard of fifty men and was on the point of embarking
in the waiting Rolls. The engine was running and the driver was as
eager to leave as his august passenger.
The Count was not at all pleased to see the bulky figure of his
Major come hurrying out of the darkness with that unmistakable
swaggering gait. He had hoped to get clear before Castelani could
intervene, and now he immediately went on the offensive.
"Major, I am returning to Asmara to report in person to the
General," shouted Aldo Belli, and tried to reach the Rolls, but the
Major was too nimble for him and interposed his bulk and saluted.
"My Colonel, the de fences of the wells are now complete," he reported.
"The area is secure."
"I shall report that we are being attacked in overwhelming force,"
cried the Count, and tried to duck around Castelani's right side, but
the Major anticipated the move and jumped sideways to keep belly to
belly.
"The men are dug in, and in good spirits."
"You have my permission to withdraw in good order under the enemy's
bloodthirsty assault." The
Count attempted to lull the man with the prospect of escape, and then
lunged to the left to reach the Rolls but the Major was swift as a
mamba, and again they faced each other. The entire (officer corps of
the Third Battalion, hastily dressed and alarmed by the drums in the
night, had assembled to watch this exhibition of agility as the Count
and Castelani jumped backwards and forwards like a pair of game cocks
sparring at each other. Their sentiments were heavily on the side of
their Colonel, and they would have enjoyed nothing more than the
spectacle of the retreating Rolls.
They would then have been free to follow in haste.
"I do not believe the enemy is present in any force." Castelani's
voice was raised to a level where the Count's protests were completely
drowned. "However, it is essential that the Colonel takes command in
person. If there is to be a confrontation, it will involve a value
judgement." The Major pressed forward a step at a time, until his
chest was an inch from the Colonel's and their noses almost touched.
"We are not formally at war. Your presence is essential to reinforce
our position." The Colonel was pressed to the point where he had no
choice but to fall back a pace, and the watching Officers sighed sadly.
It was an act of capitulation. The contest of wills was over and
although the Count continued to protest weakly, the Major worked him
away from the Rolls the way a good sheep dog handles its flock.
"It will be dawn in an hour," said Castelani, "and as soon as it is
light, we shall be in a position to evaluate the situation." At that
moment the drum fell silent. Up the valley in the caves, the Ras had
at last finished his dance of defiance, and to the Count the silence
was cheering. He threw one last wistful look at the Rolls, and then
let his gaze wander to the fifty heavily armed men of his bodyguard and
took a little more heart.
He squared his shoulders and drew himself erect, throwing back his
head.
"Major," he snapped. "The battalion will stand firm." He turned to
his watching officers, all of whom tried to fade into insignificance
and avoid his eyes. "Major Vita, take command of this detachment and
move forward to clear the ground. The rest of you fall in around
me."
The Colonel gave the Major and his fifty stalwarts a respectable
lead,
so that they might draw any hostile fire, and then, surrounded by a
protective screen of his reluctant juniors and prodded forward by
Luigi
Castelani, he moved cautiously along the dusty path that wound down the
slope of the valley to where' the battalion's forward elements had been
so expertly entrenched.
Phe most junior of Ras Golam's multitudinous grooms was fifteen years
of age. The previous day one of the Ras's favourite mares in his care
had snapped her halter rope while he was taking her down to the water.
She had galloped out into the desert, and the boy had followed her for
the whole of that day and half of the night, until the capricious
creature had allowed him to come up with her and grasp the trailing end
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