Assignment Golden Girl

by Edward S. Aarons

  "It's all right, Salduva," he mumbled. "We're both in trouble. No use quarreling over something that will soon be lost for both of us anyway."

  She came down and stood beside Durell. Durell looked at the line of armored cars. Abdundi came walking back from the wreckage of the hopper car; his left shoulder sagged lower than the right. He had a bandage around his left forearm and blood seeped through it.

  "They want to talk, it seems, M'sieu Durell."

  "I suppose so. Atimboku and Salduva will both talk to them. They have to present a united front."

  Atimboku made a hissing sound. Sally was silent.

  Durell went on, "Unless they stick together now, we're all finished."

  "But they'll take us," Sally said, "and use us as hostages and set up a puppet government with us."

  "Not yet," Durell said. "They want more than just you two. Go on out there and find out."

  "All right," Sally said.

  "No," said Atimboku.

  Sally said, "My brother, if you are the Lion of Lions of Pakuru, show your spirit now."

  Atimboku grinned crookedly. "I'm full of spirits, my sister. Good bourbon from Cape Town."

  "You can still be the prince you claim to be."

  The shadows cast by the train were growing longer. A small group of men had gotten out of the command car among the armored half-tracks and were waiting, staring at the train. Durell left Salduva and Atimboku and checked the ore hopper. A number of Abdundi's troopers were dead or injured. The car stood in a precariously tilted position. The track ahead was torn up but not too badly. It could be repaired with enough manpower. He noted this and walked back to the engine. Atimboku and Salduva were still talking like hostile animals in confrontation.

  "Oyashi?" Durell called up to the cab.

  The Japanese appeared. Someone had bandaged his burned hands. His eyes were vague. "Yes, Cajun?"

  "How far is it to Nakuru, your Ngami town?'*

  "Two, three miles."

  "Can you walk there?"

  Oyashi shrugged. "I don't know if I can make it. I could try. But I'd be seen."

  Durell climbed into the cab and looked to the right side of the tracks out of sight of the enemy vehicles. There was a slight rise hidden from the armored cars. "Get over that little hump, and they can't spot you. Wait until Atimboku goes out to talk to them. Then run for it."

  Oyashi said, "You want the Ngamis to help us?"

  "That's up to you. Persuade them if you can. You're the only one here who might do it."

  "All right. I'll try. But I don't feel right, Sam. You know the problems."

  "Just do your best," Durell said.

  Atimboku walked slowly across the veld toward the line of armored cars. The distance seemed endless. The sun, no longer strong, was lowering over the rocky hill to his left with the gorge through which the train had just passed already black with shadows. Salduva walked half a step behind him. His hatred and fear of her compensated for his reluctance to go on. He could not appear a coward in the eyes of all those who watched. The silence was unearthly. All the world in the shadows of evening was hushed. His feet made crackling sounds in the dried grass. Salduva walked proudly, her shoulders straight, even arrogant. She had always been like this—self-possessed, serene, aware of an inner power born in her. Even in childhood he had found it intolerable. She had been Ngatawana's favorite. Coddled and loved by the Queen Elephant. He had the power, the mantle of inheritance, but it was Salduva who was always looked upon with love. He did not know why it was like that.

  True, at college in the States he had done many foolish things..His position brought flattery, sycophants, the many whispers and urgings of militant rebels. Even the State Department had sought him out, entertained him, winked at his escapades, no matter how serious they had been. When he returned to Pakuru, he had tried to change. To be his own man. To do what was needed for the country. But nothing went right. There were tides and countertides, pullings and pushings from every direction: tribal chiefs and clan politics tried to destroy him. He had stood up to them. He had stood up to the Neighbors, to the Chinese, to Colonel Yi—

  He stopped when he recognized Yi's figure among the small knot of imiformed men standing beside the nearest armored car.

  Salduva said quietly, "My brother, Durell wants us to delay the talk as long as possible. Every minute may be important. We will wait here now. Let them walk to us."

  "You're right."

  "My brother, you and I must be united."

  "I am Prince Atimboku Mari Mak Mujilikaka," he said. "The country is mine."

  Salduva bowed her head. "Let it be so."

  They halted, halfway to the armored cars. Behind them they could hear the labored panting of the halted locomotive. Buzzards flew overhead in the darkening sky, circling with eternal hunger. The smell of sun-heated earth and dry grass and dust touched their nostrils. There was also the smell of oil and diesel fuel and hot metal from the five armored cars. The railroad ran in a gentle depression here with low slopes on either side of the right-of-way. Salduva wanted to look back to see if Oyashi had been able to run out of sight over the opposite rise. She did not turn her head. She loved Oyashi. He had been kind to her in faraway places, a gentle man tricked by fate and illness to turn away from the life he had chosen. But he had found another way, a path that gave of himself to her own people. She hoped he survived. It did not seem to matter about herself.

  "Atunboku! Salduva!"

  The voice was harsh, imperative. A tall, angular figure detached itself from the uniformed men by the armored car. He held out his hands to show he had no weapons. His smile was confident, touched with contempt as he considered the two young Africans who faced him between the train and his armored cars. He walked forward a few steps. It seemed as if he limped slightly.

  Salduva thought, Colonel Yi. Sam did not kill him.

  *'Come here!" the Chinese called.

  "We will meet halfway on this piece of earth that is part of Pakuru," Atimboku returned.

  "Do not stand on foolish pride. We can be friends."

  "Perhaps," said Atimboku.

  Neither he nor Salduva moved. Colonel Yi shrugged and limped slowly toward them from his vehicle. He smiled and held his empty hands out again. The faint wind blew his thick, black hair. His face was lean and bony, the face of a man from China's north country, harsh and strong and handsome with thick dark brows that joined over the bridge of his narrow MongoUan nose. Salduva felt something turn over inside her. No one knows, she thought. Yi would not mention it. He would not presume to remember . . .

  The Chinese colonel for a time had been very popular in Pakuruville. His manners were always exquisite, diplomatic, his attitudes deferential and cooperative. He treated equally all in the regency government before Atimboku's unexpected return and claim to the royal stool. He had been political of course but not openly aggressive or offensive. He had paid much attention to Salduva, and she remembered . . .

  "Salduva, my dear." He paused a short distance from them in the tall dry grass.

  "Colonel Yi," she acknowledged gravely.

  "Atimboku, my young and misguided friend, you and I are not enemies." Colonel Yi had a deep, mellifluous voice, and his black, almond-shaped eyes were friendly. It was diflBcult to think of him as Durell had described him. But she could see it now. The latent cruelty of that strong mouth. The hawklike nose, the opaqueness that came and went in the slanted, obsidian eyes. But she remembered . . .

  They had been lovers for two weeks just before Atimboku's return.

  She hadn't dared tell Durell. He would never have trusted her if he'd known. Then suddenly she wondered if he had known all along. Maybe that was why that morning in the Pakuru River Hotel he had rejected her, resisting her requests. She felt confused. What she had done with Colonel Yi, all of it, had been impulse, a surrender to alien charm, to soft words and promises of help to her country. It hadn't been what she felt for Durell. Nothing like it. And it was over. She had finis
hed it herself just before Atimboku's return when she learned he was from the Black House in Peking. Oyashi had told her even before Durell of the man's past, his record of cruelty, of both subtle and overt meddling in Pakuru's affairs, of a massacre he had instigated in Begula where thousands had died . . . She'd had to end it by going to Ngami country with Oyashi imtil Atimboku flew back from the States with the US government's blessing and urging to take over the reins in Pakuru and throw out the intruding Chinese and the Neighbors' railroad . . .

  The sun was lowering to the rimrock over the jumbled hills behind them. Their shadows were long on the grass. She met Colonel Yi's eyes.

  "Salduva, my dear girl, princess that you are—we were friends once, and I had hoped we understood each other. The situation now is unfortunate. I cannot permit you to go abroad and spread infamous, imperialistic Ues about the People's Republic of China and our humanitarian efforts here to bring peace and prosperity to your downtrodden masses."

  "Garbage," Sally said.

  Colonel Yi blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

  "Do you intend to keep us here by force?"

  "I mean to persuade you to see the right side, to understand our viewpoint. Your country is now in the hands of the Neighbors. We do not mean to behave like Western colonialist powers. Under our guidance you can grow to freedom and a people's democracy—^"

  "Guidance? You really mean that Atimboku and I will be your prisoners. Puppets made to do as you say/'

  "Not at all, my dear—" His voice went on, and Sally looked at him and wondered how she could have been such a fool once as to think that she could love this man. It was grotesque. She felt a revulsion toward herself.

  "—and there is one thing I must insist upon now," Colonel Yi finished.

  "What is that?" Atimboku asked.

  "I must have the man Durell. I want him now. He is on the train. He has been forcing it through, stealing you away, kidnapping you, so to speak. I demand that he be turned over to me at once. Now."

  Sally said, "And if we don't?"

  "You really have no choice, have you?" Colonel Yi waved a languid hand toward his armor, then gestured to the stalled train behind them. "You are—ah—sitting ducks, as the Americans say. One word from me, and a few rounds fired by my gunners, and the train is destroyed."

  "You'd kill all those iimocent people?"

  "Just give me Durell."

  "And what will you do with him?" Sally insisted.

  "Why, he must be executed as an imperialist spy, as an enemy of the People's Democratic Republic of Pakuru."

  Atimboku smiled and said, "I thiiJc that can be arranged, Colonel Yi."

  Twenty-Six

  THE SUN went down. Durell watched the last bright arc of red vanish in the tangled cliffs behind the train. He had put the passengers to work tending the wounded, cleaning up the damage done by the few rounds of shells fired from Colonel Yi's armored column. The refugees felt hopeless, staring at the muzzles of the three-inchers aimed at them. They felt like targets in a shooting gallery.

  Abdundi said, "My men are near mutiny. Five of them have slipped away."

  "With their rifles?''

  "Three rifles were abandoned."

  "Give them to any three male passengers you think best able to use them," Durell said.

  Abdundi's eyes were bloodshot. "M'sieu Durell, I know what you try to do. I appreciate it. It is very gallant. But it is a losing cause. Why do not Atimboku and Salduva return?"

  "They're playing for time."

  "For what purpose? The train is hopelessly stalled. It would take much manpower to remove the hopper from in front of the locomotive and to repair the track. Who can do it?"

  "Oyashi will do it."

  "Oyashi is a sick man. His attempt to reach the Ngamis is futile. He is probably dead."

  "I hope not," Durell said.

  There was still light in the sky when Atimboku came striding back across the dry grass toward the train. Durell looked for Sally but could not identify her among the group of men standing with Colonel Yi. There were no longer any shadows on the groimd. Twilight would be short and swift. Atimboku came toward him and smiled and flipped a hand to Abdundi and said, "Bwana Cajun, come with me."

  Durell saw the secret, malicious triimiph in the Pakuru's eyes. "Does Yi want me?"

  "It is you— or the train."

  "Where is Salduva?"

  "He's keeping her as a hostage."

  "For me?"

  "It's you or her. I made the deal. You have to give yourself up to Yi. He wants you, I think, more than he wants me or Salduva or the whole country." Atimboku lapsed into the vernacular he had picked up in the States. "Man, it's the whole bag, a can of worms. Yi is the Big Man here. He's got the guns, right? And he wants you."

  "Will he let Salduva go free?"

  "Nothing. He doesn't have to bargain. He gives you just five minutes." Atimboku griimed. "If you don't go to him, he shoots us up. He sends us all sky-high,"

  "Tell him I need more time."

  "He won't give you more time. Five minutes only."

  Durell said coldly, "You let him keep Salduva, didn't you? You made the deal to get rid of Salduva and be his puppet, is that it?"

  Atimboku shrugged. "It's a way to stay alive."

  Durell said, "He'll kill us all anyway, don't you know that? He can't leave any witnesses here. And he'll have a blackmail hold over you in the future to keep your mouth shut forever. He'll name you an accomplice in a massacre, and you'll have to jxmip every time he snaps his fingers."

  Atimboku turned his head to the right, dropped one shoulder, made a grunting sound. His big frame shivered. He whispered, "I can't help that. It's the only way out"

  "You don't care if these people are killed?"

  "Colonel Yi will do it. Not me." He shivered aagin. "I have to compromise." "It's not compromise," Durell said. "It's surrender."

  Colonel Abdundi had been standing silently nearby, his thick shoulders drooping. He spoke slurringly. "Your Highness, I have been loyal to you. I was willing to give my life for you. Will I be shot, too, by the Chinese to keep my tongue silent, to wipe out the memories in my brain?"

  Atimboku grinned. "You were highly paid for your loyalty, Abdundi. How could I trust your silence?"

  "You trusted me in the fighting. Will you not trust me now?"

  Atimboku laughed. "Do you beg for your life? You were a pretty tough customer, mon ami, when I put you in command of the Army. Do I hear you pleading to live?"

  Abdundi said, "You must not do this to us. We are all in this situation only out of loyalty to you."

  "I can't change the situation." Atimboku's eyelids drooped sullenly. He looked at his watch. "Three minutes left, Durell."

  Abdundi's hand moved toward his bolstered pistol. Durell had no chance to interfere. Before the soldier's gun was half out of its holster, Atimboku had a knife in his hands from his leopard loincloth, a long thin blade that gleamed in the twilight. It made a quick, slicing arc that ripped up into Abdundi's stomach, grated on bone, twisted. Abdundi's black eyes widened. He stepped back, his mouth open in astonishment, and fell slowly against the tender, stood with his feet planted wide, his shoulders against the steel plates. Atimboku stepped forward and slashed his throat open. Thick blood gushed, then spurted over Atimboku's naked chest. The soldier tried to speak but only made wet gurgling sounds. His eyes popped. Atimboku drove his knife squarely into the man's heart. Abdundi's feet dug two furrows with his heels in the gravel. He sat down and did not move, his dead eyes fixed on Atimboku.

  Durell had had no opportunity to change what happened. He saw the red madness in Atimboku's eyes. The Pakuru wrenched the knife loose and wiped it on Ab-dundi's shoulder epaulets. He looked at Durell.

  "He was a traitor."

  Durell said, "He begged you to be a prince."

  "He had to be killed!" Atimboku shouted. "He was going to shoot me. You saw it! You were a witness!"

  Durell felt tired. No one else along the tracks
ide had stirred. Atimboku started to walk away, then looked back to the coach. His chest heaved. Saliva dripped from a corner of his twisted mouth.

  "Gloria," he said.

  "Leave her alone," Durell warned.

  "I want her with me."

  "And the rest of us are to be killed?"

  "I leave that to Colonel Yi. I want Gloria. You have two minutes, Durell."

  "Suppose I keep you here? You'll be shot up with the rest of us," Durell said.

  "Then we will all die. But he'll have Salduva. He'll do what he pleases with her. Then we all lose anyway."

  Atimboku walked to the coach platform. His legs looked stiff, awkward. Durell said "Wait," and Atimboku turned his grinning head. "Yes?"

  "Leave her alone. I'll go with you."

  "That's better," Atimboku said. "Your time is up."

  The gorge behind them was black with night now. Only a faint light lingered on the jumbled mass of rock, the thick slabs of basaltic formation. A cool wind rippled the grass of the veld and the shallow trough in which the tracks ran. The armored cars were crouching, mechanical beasts waiting to fire on them. Beside the train the refugees stared.

  "Durell!"

  Durell walked from the train with Atimboku. His face was impassive. He pushed stubbornly through the waist-high grass. There was only a pearly twilight in the western sky now. His boots crunched in the brittle weeds.

  He emptied his mind of all thoughts. Colonel Yi had won after all. Oyashi was probably lying dead somewhere on the trail to his Ngami people. Or maybe the Ngamis declined to intervene. They would not care. They would not follow Oyashi, a stranger to them, even though he had worked in the fields with them.

  Nobody would come to help.

  He was halfway across to the armored cars. He halted and looked back at the huge black outline of the train, the dim glow of lamps in the passenger coach. Old 79 still had power, the generator was still working. He tried to think of alternatives to what he was doing. He could think of nothing else. Maybe he could convince Colonel Yi to let the others go.

  "Durell!"

  "Come on,'' Atimboku murmured.