Border, Breed Nor Birth

by James A. Cox

you're El Hassan. You give the orders. Otherpeople are expendable."

  Homer Crawford grinned at him, somewhat ruefully and held up his handsas though in supplication. "Listen to the man, is that any way to talkto El Hassan?"

  Elmer Allen said worriedly, "He's right, though, Homer. You shouldn'ttake chances."

  Homer Crawford went serious. "Actually, none of us should, if we canavoid it. In a way, El Hassan isn't one person. It's this team here,and Jake Armstrong, who by this time I hope is on his way to theStates."

  Bey was shaking his head in stubborn determination. "No," he said."I'm not sure that you comprehend this yourself, Homer, but you'reNumber One. You're the symbol, the hero these people are going tofollow if we put this thing over. They couldn't understand a sextetleadership. They want a leader, someone to dominate and tell them whatto do. A team you need, admittedly, but not so much as the team needsyou. Remember Alexander? He had a team starting off with Aristotle fora brain-trust, and Parmenion, one of the greatest generals of all timefor his right-hand man. Then he had a group of field men such asPtolemy, Antipater, Antigonus and Seleucus--not to be rivaled untilNapoleon built his team, two thousand years later. And what happenedto this super-team when Alexander died?"

  Homer looked at him thoughtfully.

  Bey wound it up doggedly. "You're our Alexander. Our Caesar. OurNapoleon. So don't go getting yourself killed, damn it. Excuse me,Isobel."

  Isobel grinned her pixielike grin. "I agree," she said. "Dammit."

  Homer said, "I'm not sure I go all along with you or not. We'll thinkabout it." His voice took a sharper note. "Let's go over and see ifthere's enough left in that wreckage to give us an idea of who thepilot represented. I can't believe it was a Reunited Nations man, andI'd like to know who, of our potential enemies, dislikes the idea ofEl Hassan so much that they figure we should all be bumped off beforewe even get under way."

  * * * * *

  It had begun--if there is ever a beginning--in Dakar. In the officesof Sven Zetterberg the Swedish head of the Sahara Division of theAfrican Development Project of the Reunited Nations.

  Homer Crawford, head of a five-man trouble-shooting team, had reportedfor orders. In one hand he held them, when he was ushered into theother's presence.

  Zetterberg shook hands abruptly, said, "Sit down, Dr. Crawford."

  Homer Crawford looked at the secretary who had ushered him in.

  Zetterberg said, scowling, "What's the matter?"

  "I think I have something to be discussed privately."

  The secretary shrugged and turned and left.

  Zetterberg, still scowling, resumed his own place behind the desk andsaid, "Claud Hansen is a trusted Reunited Nations man. What couldpossibly be so secret...?"

  Homer indicated the orders he held. "This assignment. It takes someconsideration."

  Sven Zetterberg was not a patient man. He said, in irritation, "Itshould be perfectly clear. This El Hassan we've been hearing so muchabout. This mystery man come out of the desert attempting to unifyall North America. We want to talk to him."

  "Why?" Crawford said.

  "Confound it," Zetterberg snapped. "I thought we'd gone into thisyesterday. In spite of the complaints that come into this office inregard to your cavalier tactics in carrying out your assignments, youand your team are our most competent operatives. So we've given youthe assignment of finding El Hassan."

  "I mean, why do you want to talk to him?"

  The Swede glared at him for a moment, as though the American was beingdeliberately dense. "Dr. Crawford," he said, "when the AfricanDevelopment Project was first begun we had high hopes. Seemingly allReunited Nations members were being motivated by high humanitarianreasons. Our task was to bring all Africa to a level of progresscomparable to the advanced nations. It was more than a duty, it was acrying need, a demand. Africa is and has been throughout history a_have-not_ continent. While Europe, the Americas, Australia and noweven Asia, industrialized and largely conquered man's oldsocio-economic problems, Africa lagged behind. The reasons weremanifold, colonialism, lingering tribal society ... various others.Now that very lagging has become a potential explosive situation. Withthe coming of antibiotics and other break-throughs in medicine, theAfrican population is growing with an all but geometric progression.So fast is it growing, that what advances were being made did lessthan keep up the level of per capita gross product. It was bad enoughto have a per capita gross product averaging less than a hundreddollars a year, but it actually sank below that point."

  Homer Crawford was nodding.

  Zetterberg continued the basic lecture with which he knew the otherwas already completely familiar. "So the Reunited Nations took on thetask of advancing as rapidly as possible the African economy and allthe things that must be done before an economy _can_ be advanced. Itwas self-preservation, I suppose. _Have-not_ nations, not to speak of_have-not_ races and _have-not_ continents, have a tendency eventuallyto explode upon their wealthier neighbors."

  The Swede pressed his lips together before continuing. "Unfortunately,the Reunited Nations as the United Nations and the League of Nationsbefore it, is composed of members each with its own irons in the fire.Each with its own plans and schemes." His voice was bitter now. "TheArab Union with its desire to unite all Islam into one. The SovietComplex with its ultimate dream of a soviet world. The capitalisticeconomies of the British Commonwealth, Common Europe, and your UnitedStates of the Americas, with their hunger for, positive need for,sources of raw materials and markets for their manufactured products.All, though playing lip service to the African Development Project,have still their own ambitions."

  Sven Zetterberg waggled a finger at Homer Crawford. "I do not chargethat your United States is attempting to take over Africa, or even anysection of it, in the old colonialistic sense. Even England and Francehave discovered that it is much simpler to dominate economically thanto go through all the expense and effort of governing another people.That is the basic reason they gave up their empires. No, your UnitedStates would love to so dominate Africa that her products, herentrepreneurs, would flood the continent to the virtual exclusion ofsuch economic competitors as Common Europe. The Commonwealth feels thesame, so does the French Community. The Soviets and Arabs havedifferent motivations, but they, too, wish to take over. Theresult...." The Swede tossed up his hands in a gesture more Gallicthan Scandinavian.

  * * * * *

  "What has all this got to do with El Hassan?" Homer Crawford askedsoftly.

  The Swede leaned forward. "If we more devoted adherents of theReunited Nations are ever to see our hopes come true, Africa must beunited and made strong. And this must be done through the efforts of_Africans_ not Russians, British, French, Arabs ... nor evenScandinavians. Socio-economic changes should not, possibly cannot, beinflicted upon a people from without. Look at the mess the Russiansmade in such countries as Hungary, or the Americans in such as SouthKorea."

  "The people themselves must have the dream," Crawford said softly.

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Nothing. Go on."

  Zetterberg said, "On the surface, great progress seems to becontinuing. Afforestation of the Sahara, the solar pumps creating newoases, the water purification plants on the Atlantic andMediterranean, pushing back the desert, the oil fields, the mines, theroads, the damming of the Niger. But already cracks can be seen. Aweek or so ago, a team of Cubans, supposedly, at least, in the Sudanto improve sugar refining methods, were machine-gunned to death. Bywhom? By the Sudanese? Unlikely. No, this Cuban massacre was one ofmany recent signs of conflict between the great powers in theirefforts to dominate. Our problem, of course, deals only with NorthAfrica, but I have heard rumors in Geneva that much the same situationis developing in the south as well."

  "At any rate, Dr. Crawford, when the rumors of El Hassan began to comeinto this office they brought with them a breath of hope. From all wehave heard, he teaches our basic program--a breaking down of oldtrib
al society, education, economic progress, Pan-African unity. Dr.Crawford, no one with whom this office is connected seems ever to haveseen this El Hassan but we are most anxious to talk to him. Perhapsthis is the man behind whom we can throw our support. Your task is tofind him."

  Homer Crawford raked the fingers of his right hand back over hisshort wiry hair, and grimaced. He said, "It won't be necessary."

  "I beg your pardon, Doctor?"

  Crawford said, "It won't be necessary to go looking for El Hassan."

  The Swede scowled his irritation at the other. "See here...."

  Crawford said, "I'm El Hassan."

  Sven Zetterberg stared at him, uncomprehending.

  Homer Crawford said, "I suppose it's your turn to listen and for meto do the talking." He shifted in his chair, uncomfortably. "Dr.Zetterberg, even before the Reunited Nations evolved the idea of theAfrican Development Project, it became obvious that the field work wasgoing to have to be in the hands of Negroes. The reason is doublefold.First, the African doesn't trust the white man, for good reason.Second, the white man is a citizen of his own country, first of all,and finds it difficult not to have motives connected with his own raceand nation. But the African Negro, too, has his tribal and sometimesnational affiliations and cannot be trusted not to be prejudiced intheir favor. The answer? The educated American Negro, such as myself."

  "I haven't the slightest idea from whence came my ancestors, from whatpart of Africa, what tribe, what nation. But I am a Negro and ...well, have the dream of bettering my race. I have no irons in thefire, beyond altruistic ones. Of course, when I say American Negroes Idon't exclude Canadian ones, or those of Latin America or theCaribbean. It is simply that there are greater numbers of educatedAmerican Negroes than you find elsewhere."

  Zetterberg said impatiently, "Please, Dr. Crawford. Come to the point.That ridiculous statement you made about El Hassan."

  "Of course, I am merely giving background. Most of we field workers,not only the African Development teams, but such organizations as theAfrica for Africans Association and the representatives of the AfricanDepartment of the British Commonwealth, and of the French Community'sAfrican Affairs sector, are composed of Negroes."

  Zetterberg was nodding. "All right, I know."

  Homer Crawford said, "The teams of all these organizations do theirbest to spur African progress, in our case, in North Africa,especially the area between the Niger and the Mediterranean. Often wedisguise ourselves as natives since in that manner we are more quicklytrusted. We wear the clothes, speak the local language or linguafranca."

  The American hesitated a moment, then plunged in. "Dr. Zetterberg, theAfrican is still a primitive but newly beginning to move out of atradition-ritual-taboo tribal society. He seeks a hero to follow, aman of towering prestige who knows the answers to all questions. Wemay not _like_ this fact, we with our traditions of democracy, but itis so. The African is simply not yet at that stage of society wherepolitical democracy is applicable."

  "My team does most of its work posing as Enaden--low caste itinerantsmiths of the Sahara. As such we can go any place and are everywhereaccepted, a necessary sector of the Saharan economy. As such, wecontinually spread the ... ah, propaganda of the Reunited Nations--theneed for education, the need for taking jobs on the new projects, theneed for casting aside old institutions and embracing the new. Earlyin the game we found our words had little weight coming from simpleEnaden smiths so we ... well, _invented_ this mysterious El Hassan,and everything we said we attributed to him."

  "News spreads fast in the desert, astonishingly fast. El Hassanstarted with us but soon other teams, hearing about him and realizingthat his message was the same as that they were trying to propagate,did the same thing. That is, attributed the messages they had tospread to El Hassan. It was amusing when a group of us got togetherlast week in Timbuktu, to find that we'd all taken to kowtowing tothis mythical desert hero who planned to unite all North Africa."

  The Swede was staring at him unbelievingly. "But, a bit earlier yousaid you were El Hassan."

  Homer Crawford looked into his chief's face and nodded seriously."I've been conferring with various other field workers, both ReunitedNations and otherwise. The situation calls for a real El Hassan. If wedon't provide him, someone else will. I propose to take over theposition."

  Sven Zetterberg's face was suddenly cold. "And why, Dr. Crawford, doyou think you are more qualified than others?"

  The American Negro could hardly fail to note the other's disapproval.He said evenly, but definitely, "Through experience. Througheducation. Through ... through having the dream, Dr. Zetterberg."

  "The Reunited Nations cannot support such a project, Dr. Crawford. Iabsolutely forbid you to consider it."

  "Forbid me?"

  * * * * *

  It was as though a strange something entered the atmosphere of theroom, almost as though a new _presence_ was there. And almost, itseemed to Sven Zetterberg, that the already tall, solidly built manacross from him grew physically as his voice seemed to swell, to reachout, to dominate. There was a new, and all but unbelievable HomerCrawford here.

  The Swedish official regathered his forces. This was ridiculous. Hesaid again, "I forbid you to...." the sentence dribbled away under thecold disdain in the air now.

  Homer Crawford said flatly, "You don't seem to understand, Zetterberg.The Reunited Nations has no control over El Hassan. Homer Crawford, asof this meeting, has resigned his post with the African DevelopmentProject. And El Hassan has begun his task of uniting all NorthAfrica."

  Sven Zetterberg, shaken by this new and unsuspected force the otherseemed to be able to bring to his command, fought back. "It will besimple to discredit you, to let it be known that you are no more thanan ambitious American out to seize power illegally."

  Crawford's scorn held an element of amusement. "Try it. I suspect yourattempts to discredit El Hassan will prove unsuccessful. He hasalready been rumored to be everything from an Ethiopian to the SecondComing of the Messiah. Your attempt to brand him an Americanadventurer will be swallowed up in the flood of other rumor."

  The Swede was still shaken by the strange manner in which his oncesubordinate had suddenly dominated him. Sven Zetterberg was not a manto be dominated, to be made unsure.

  Time folded back on itself and for a moment he was again a lad and onvacation with his father in Bavaria. They were having lunch in thefamed Hofbrauehaus, largest of the Munich beercellars, and even aten-year-old could sense an anticipation in the air, particularlyamong the large number of brownshirted men who had gathered to oneside of the ground level of the beer hall. His father was telling Svenof the history of the medieval building when a silence fell. Into thebeer hall had come a pasty faced, trenchcoat garbed little man, hisface set in stern lines but insufficiently to offset the ludicrousmustache. He was accompanied by an elderly soldier in the uniform of aField Marshal, by a large tub of a man whose face beamed--butevilly--and by a pinch faced cripple. All were men of command, allexcept the pasty faced one, to whom they seemingly and surprisingly,deferred. And then he stood on a heavy chair and spoke. And then his_power_ reached out and grasped all within reach of his shrill voice.Grasped them and compelled them and they became a shouting, red faced,arm brandishing mob, demanding to be led to glory. And Sven's fatherhad bustled the shocked boy from the building.

  It came back to him now, clearly and forcefully, and he realized thatwhatever it was with which the Beast of Berchtesgaden had enchantedhis people, that power was on call in Homer Crawford. Whether he usedit for good or evil, that enchanting power was on call. And again SvenZetterberg was shaken.

  Homer Crawford was on his feet, preparatory to leaving.

  The Swede simply _had_ to reassert himself. "Dr. Crawford, theReunited Nations is not without resources. You'll be arrested beforeyou leave Dakar."

  An element of the tenseness left the air when Crawford smiled andsaid, "Doctor, for several years now I have been playing hide and seek
in the Sahara, doing your work. You mentioned earlier that my team isthe most experienced and capable. Just whom are you going to send topick me up? Members of some of the other teams? Old friends andcomrades in arms. Many of whom owe their lives to my team when allbets were down. Please do send them, Doctor, I am going to needrecruits."

  He swung and left the office and even as he went could hear the angryReunited Nations chief blasting into an interoffice communicator. Hedecided he'd better see if there wasn't a back door or window throughwhich to leave the building. He'd have to phone Bey, Isobel and theothers and get together for a meeting to plan developments. El Hassanwas getting off to a fast start, already he was on the lam.

  * * * * *

  Homer Crawford played it safe. From the nearest public phone he calledIsobel Cunningham at the Hotel Juan-le-Pin. No matter how fast SvenZetterberg swung into action, it would take his operatives some timeto connect Isobel with Homer and his team. As an employee of theAfrica for Africans Association, she would ordinarily come in littlecontact with the Reunited Nations teams.

  He said, "Isobel? Homer here. Can you talk?"

  She said, "Cliff and Jake are here."

  He said, "Have you sounded them out? How do they feel about the ElHassan project?"

  "They're in. At least, Jake is. We're still arguing with Cliff."

  "O.K. Now