Burke was too deeply involved to be put off by Urko’s grim memories. “Let’s you and me make a deal,” he said.
Urko sneered. “A deal with a condemned human?” he said.
Burke sighed. “I am about to be killed, right?”
“Correct,” said Urko. “You’re just starting to come to your senses. How tragically late for you.”
“My point is that I have nothing to lose,” said Burke. “If I can offer you enough to keep me alive, I have everything to gain. I can be a lot of help to you, Urko. Maybe you’ve never seen that before, but it’s true. Look, you’re not all that sure about Aboro, never mind all that stuff you were telling me about loyalty among apes. Don’t bother to answer, let me talk. Suppose he does intend to have you killed? You’ll never know unless you let him meet with the hired killer.”
Urko stared. Some of what Burke said was sensible enough. Mostly, though, it sounded to the general like the half-mad ravings of a doomed human. He had heard that kind of nonsense often enough in his career. “And of course I am foolish enough to allow that and give Aboro a chance to have me killed,” he said. “If he is planning all this, which frankly I still doubt.”
Burke knew that he had begun to win an advantage, that his arguments were beginning to have an effect on Urko’s reasoning. Urko was the most intelligent of his gorilla comrades, but even so the general was slow to change his ideas. Burke had to press on. “Maybe you doubt and maybe you don’t. But I’ll bet you never get another good night’s sleep until you find out the truth, once and for all!”
Urko took up his pacing once more. There was so much to consider, and Burke was just an annoying complication. “And so, human,” said Urko, staring at the parchment in his hand, “I send on this message and allow the killer to meet with Aboro? Is that the foolish idea you’re suggesting?”
“No, Urko,” said Burke, beginning to sound slightly exasperated at the gorilla’s lack of imagination. “You allow me!”
There was a stunned silence. Urko could only look blankly at the agitated prisoner. In the shrubbery around the edge of the camp, Virdon and Galen heard Burke’s words and were equally surprised. They were dumbfounded by the dark-haired astronaut’s quick thinking and a little unsure about what he meant to do. Like Urko, they could only listen and hope to discover his plan.
Burke continued talking, not letting Urko voice an objection, not letting the gorilla leader have a few moments to dismiss the whole situation, have Burke killed, and take his entire entourage back to Central City. After all, if he could have Augustus transferred to nowhere, he could have Aboro sent less than nowhere just as simply, and the whole question would be easily settled. Burke didn’t want Urko to have the opportunity to make that decision. “I play Amhar!” he said. “And all it costs you is my freedom. You can see how I stand to gain. What have you got to lose?”
Urko grimaced. “You for one,” he said.
“You’ve done that before,” said Burke.
“If you’re trying to convince me of something,” said Urko, “you’re going about it the wrong way.”
“My point is that our paths, thanks to your diligence, seem to cross at fairly regular intervals,” said Burke.
“Once ought to be enough,” said Urko.
“Aw, admit it,” said Burke with a forced laugh. “You’d miss the thrill of the chase.”
“I have other things to chase.”
“Look,” said Burke, “nobody but you knows you’ve caught me. You and your guards, that is. And they won’t open their mouths if you tell them not to.”
“That is the first true thing you’ve uttered,” said Urko. He looked around again at his gorilla troopers. They all remained at their stations, their rifles unslung, their expressions empty. They existed only to fill Urko’s orders.
“It’s the second fact,” said Burke. “The first was that you’ll never rest easy again until you know that letter means nothing or you have your proof against Aboro.”
It was clear that Urko was weakening quickly. The silence this time was filled with his muttering growl. Burke couldn’t make out any specific words, although the rhythm of the phrases sounded to the astronaut like curses. It didn’t make any difference. The solution to the matter would come quickly enough. “And for this peace of mind you’re granting me, you want what? Your freedom again? No perpetual guarantees? No official pardons?”
“I don’t think you’d honor them, anyway,” said Burke. At Urko’s darkening glance, the man hurried to explain. “I mean, I respect your devotion to duty too much to think that you’d just forget about me and my buddies.”
“You are right again.”
“And If I’m right so often lately, maybe you ought to give some genuine consideration to my plan,” said Burke. “Let me loose after I pretend to be your killer. And give me a couple of hours start. That’s all I’m asking. Just fair sport, Urko. You could have me hogtied again by tomorrow night, if you work fast.”
Urko took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked over his shoulder at his troopers. “Go on, find something to do,” he ordered them. They hurried away, leaving Urko alone with Burke. Even after the gorillas left, the general said nothing for quite some time, studying the human closely, as if he hoped to discover the truth or falsity of Burke’s claim somewhere on the man’s face. Through all of this, Burke did his best to remain passive and calm, although a few drops of perspiration ran slowly down his forehead, maddeningly along the bridge of his nose, and with demonic, ticklish slowness to his chin.
“Very well,” said Urko. “We’ll keep that rendezvous with Prefect Aboro, just to prove you wrong. Then I will have you shot.”
Burke was about to make a remark about how often he had heard Urko threaten to shoot him. But he caught himself in time and his better sense kept his mouth closed.
Virdon and Galen in the nearby brush let out their long-held breaths in collective sighs of relief. Virdon turned to the chimpanzee and whispered, “Good old Pete! He could con the pearl right out of an oyster! Come on.”
Together they backed away into the denser underbrush.
Behind the gray hills in the distance, the orange ball of the sun was beginning to light flames which, later, would reach into the sky as the brilliant dying embers of sunset. The valley which comprised the district governed by Aboro was already beginning to darken in the first faint touches of dusk. One bright star hung low in the sky. The sounds of daylight birds and animals were fading with the light. Night was coming quickly on.
Activity in the valley did not cease with the daylight, however. Gorilla patrols still continued their angry pursuit of whatever they decided might be a human crime. The humans themselves were just beginning to hurry home from their laborious daytime occupations to share a few hours of peace with their families and neighbors.
On the road to the village of Hathor, a slow-moving wagon rumbled its clumsy way among the rustling trees. The wagon was half-filled with supplies and was drawn by an ox. An old human of about sixty years, his hair sparse and white, his face covered with rough stubble, sat on the warped seat and drove his lazy animal. Beside him sat another man, dressed in a dark cloak pulled over his head to shadow his features.
“You know,” said the old man, “it’s good to have you along, stranger. These trips I make are lonely, taking supplies out to the ape outposts. Weeks go by sometimes without me seeing so much as one other human being. Those that I do see from time to time never have much time to talk, what with all the work their ape masters give them. And the last creature in the world you want to try to talk to is one of those uniformed gorillas. You know what I mean?”
The other figure made no response. A sudden bump jerked the cloak from the man’s head. In the dim light of the setting sun, Janor pulled the garment back over his grim features. The old man rambled on and on, oblivious to the fact that he was being ignored, that Janor had much weightier problems on his mind. Janor had plans to make, or, rather, a variety of different scheme
s to choose from. He had given the matter thought all day, and he hadn’t yet decided which way would best suit his need for revenge. Outwardly, though, an observer would never guess the murderous content of Janor’s thoughts. He seemed to be just a stoic, silent man, no different than many other docile humans.
“You say you have business in Hathor?” asked the old man.
Once more, there was no response from Janor. He stared straight ahead at the dusty road. Beneath the cloak, surreptitiously, absentmindedly, he slid his finger along a knife blade. It was a short, stubby knife, not very sharp, but it would do the job he had planned for it.
“Well,” said the old man, “with luck we should be there soon after dark.”
There was not the slightest reply from Janor.
“Yes,” said the old man, “it’s good to have somebody to talk to every once in a while. Does the soul good.”
The wagon rumbled on into the gathering darkness, its two occupants lost in their private worlds.
The town of Hathor had settled down for the evening. The bustling humans had returned to their shabby homes. The gorillas lounged in eating places or stood guard duty at their posts. The ape citizens had long ago closed up their shops. All was peaceful in the town of Hathor. But for a few lights burning in huts along the village’s main street, everything was now in darkness. All, that is, except the headquarters of Aboro, which was ablaze with light from within.
Inside Aboro’s place, the sparse and cold atmosphere of the prefect’s office had been transformed into a festive scene. A table had been moved into the middle of the outer office. The desk and other office equipment had been pushed back. Chairs had been set around the table, an expensive tablecloth had been laid, candlesticks placed at either end of the table, and the finest apemade earthen dishes had been set. Aboro paced nervously around the table, examining each detail. A human servant was placing the last of the table settings when Aboro’s nerves got the better of him. “All right!” he cried. “It’s finished. It looks fine. Stop fussing with it. Get out of here.” The frightened human gave Aboro a quick look and then almost ran out of the prefect’s building. Aboro was not relieved. He stared at the table and listened to the quiet settle down around him. He wished that the night’s events had already ended.
Beyond the prefect’s building, the main street of Hathor quickly fell into total blackness. There were four more huts between the house of Aboro and a small intersecting alley. One of these huts had light streaming through an open window. The light was not as bright or intense as the light coming from the prefect’s building. The other three huts were dark. There was movement between two of these darkened huts. It was difficult for anyone—gorilla guard or scurrying human servant—to see the movement in the night darkness; from the well-lit interior of the prefect’s house, all of the outdoors was featureless.
As the moving figures approached the relatively dim light from one of the huts on Aboro’s block, however, the forms of Virdon and Galen might have been recognizable to anyone who knew them. They glanced out quickly into the main street and then ducked back into the shadows. They carried objects with them which they held hidden in the darkness. Virdon adjusted the leather loops fastened on the ends of three wooden poles. Galen did the same with a single pole he carried.
“Keep your eyes open for Pete,” murmured Virdon in a low voice. “He should be along here any minute.”
Galen didn’t answer for a moment. He had been thinking about something that would upset their plans. “He will,” said the chimpanzee finally, “unless Urko changes his mind about letting him go. He could just as easily have Pete executed.”
Virdon realized for the first time that this was definitely a possibility. “Yeah,” he said, but he quickly dismissed the notion. It would do no good to worry about theoretical difficulties. They had had enough genuine ones to bother them already.
“Alan!” said Galen excitedly, pointing back toward the main street.
“What is it?” asked Virdon. “Pete?”
“No,” said Galen. “Look.”
Virdon strained to see what Galen was indicating. The astronaut’s eyesight was not nearly as keen as the ape’s, but soon he saw what Galen meant. The hooded figure of a man moved along among the shadows of the huts across the way. From the way he sought the darkest patches of the street, it was clear that the figure did not want to be seen. With his definite limp, he was easily recognizable as Janor.
“Janor,” whispered Virdon.
“Yes,” said Galen. “That was what I feared most. Both for him, and for Pete.”
Virdon grabbed Galen’s arm and the two bolted off into the darkness between the huts, carrying their leather-strapped poles. They ran as quickly as they could without making any noise, keeping low to avoid any stray beams of light from the apes’ huts. They raced ahead, parallel to the main street, in a desperate attempt to cut off Janor before the enraged farmer could put his plan of vengeance into action.
Meanwhile, Janor, unaware that he had been spotted by his two comrades, continued on his course directly toward the house of Prefect Aboro. He took his time, being careful, but he did not linger in the shadows. The powerful emotions that controlled him now would permit no dallying.
He allowed himself to pause when he came to a point at the end of one of the small block of huts along Hathor’s main street. There was no more protection for him further on. He would have to cross the street to the same side as his goal and proceed in the shadow of three or four darkened buildings. With the fire of pure hatred in his eyes, he moved across the narrow lane that served as Hathor’s chief thoroughfare. He took his knife from his belt in preparation.
Janor moved stealthily toward Aboro’s headquarters, his mind a raging, confused mixture of emotions. His eyes, however, were steady. They were fixed on his goal, and nothing near him distracted his attention. As Janor passed one of the wooden buildings near the prefect’s office, two hands reached out suddenly from the black, curtained doorway. Virdon clapped one hand around Janor’s mouth; with his other hand he grabbed the wrist of Janor’s knife-wielding hand. While Janor struggled and tried to cry out, Virdon dragged him into the building.
Once they were inside, it was clear that the shop was a crude blacksmith shop, the type owned by apes but worked by humans. Galen watched the two humans struggle, praying to his half-forgotten gods that they didn’t arouse too much attention or make too much racket among the tables, benches, and tools of the shop. There was a horse in a small stall near the back of the building and it was already beginning to make small, nervous whinnying sounds. Galen could only look on helplessly, his eyes riveted on the knife.
“Janor!” whispered Virdon hoarsely. “It’s Virdon! Listen to me! You’ve got to give us more time.”
The huge farmer easily pulled free from Virdon’s grasp, pushing the astronaut aside. Virdon landed heavily and painfully on the hard-packed dirt of the floor.
“No!” said Janor. “My last offer was more than fair. Your time is up. It was up at sundown, as I said. You’ve failed. Aboro will die tonight! Now!”
“I admit it,” said Virdon. “We didn’t accomplish our plan before sunset. But we had other problems.”
“That makes no difference to me,” said Janor.
“An hour,” said Galen. “Just give us one more hour.”
“No,” said Janor firmly.
Janor started out of the blacksmith shop. Virdon, still on the floor, lunged for Janor’s legs, tackling the large man. Janor fell backward, twisting, landing on Virdon’s back. For a moment, the wind knocked out of him, Virdon couldn’t breathe. Janor raised his hand, hesitated, then drove the knife into the dirt of the floor, only a few inches from Virdon’s shoulder—a warning. The two men wrestled briefly, although it was always clear that Janor was Virdon’s superior in strength. Slowly, they lifted themselves to their knees; then they stood, still struggling. “Kill Aboro,” said Virdon, panting, “and you’ll be throwing your own life away.”
&
nbsp; “We’ve been through this before,” said Janor. “It’s impossible to argue with you. You don’t understand.”
“Don’t sacrifice yourself, Janor,” said Virdon.
“My life is mine to give for Mikal,” said Janor.
Janor hurled Virdon aside one more time. Virdon crashed through the shoddy back of the stall. He raised himself painfully to his elbows, gasping for breath. “And will you sacrifice Burke’s life as well?” he asked.
Janor only stared, not comprehending what Virdon meant.
“In a few minutes,” said Virdon, “Pete’s coming with General Urko himself. You want justice? Then help us all get it.”
Janor studied Virdon, scarcely believing what the man had told him. Some of it sounded simply insane—Pete Burke, arriving with General Urko, as though the office of Aboro’s were the scene of some lukewarm cocktail party instead of the intended setting for murder. Janor glanced back at Galen, then again at Virdon. For the moment, there was nothing that he could say.
At the edge of the village, where the main street trickled off into the dusty country road that ran through the forest, there was a small clearing. Not far from this end of the street was the headquarters of the prefect. The lights from within beamed through the boughs of the trees, casting strange shadows. Five riders approached slowly, walking their horses, attempting to make as little noise as possible. The five were General Urko, three of his omnipresent troopers, and Burke. They pulled to a stop at Urko’s command, dismounting in the clearing and tying up the horses to trees.
“My men will surround the building,” said Urko in a growling whisper. “I will be listening outside. You had better not have any tricks planned.”
“Don’t worry,” said Burke. “After all I’ve gone through just to get this far, I’m fresh out of tricks.” Nevertheless, the astronaut secretly hoped and prayed that his friends, so long out of communication, had come up with a few of their own. Burke walked slowly and quietly to the door of Prefect Aboro’s quarters. He paused a moment, collecting his thoughts. Then he knocked three times. There was a pause, and then the door was flung open. “I am Amhar, sir,” said Burke.
Planet of the Apes 04 - Lord of the Apes Page 8