by John Blaine
Scotty threw a switch on the opposite side of the laser.“Switching to laser operation.” He watched the pulse on the face of a miniaturized oscilloscope, then threw a second switch. The radio beep in Rick’s phones cut out.
“Go,” Scotty said.
Rick took a deep breath. “Mobile Unit Five callingAndover . Do you read?”
The answering voice sped from Earth Station One atAndover,Maine , to die satellite hanging 22,300
miles above theAzores and was relayed to Rick. “Your signal is five by five, Mobile Five. You’re coming in like a local call. How are things inAfrica ?”
“Just fine,” Rick answered with a wry grin.
Scotty was standing by, also plugged into the circuit now, chronometer in hand. He said, “Time check, please.”
“Roger,Mobile Five. In fourteen seconds the bell will signal 1321 hours and thirty seconds Zebra.”
That was twenty-one and a half minutes past one, Greenwichtime , and the same minutes and seconds past three in the afternoon, local time. Rick figured quickly. It was past nine in the evening of the following day on theislandofJolo . He watched as Scotty set the chronometer and prepared to start it.
TheAndover voice counted, “Five, four, three, two,one , Mark!” The bell came on “Mark,” and Scotty started the chronometer.
It was almost nine minutes before the Sultan was due tospeak . Scotty counted up to thirty seconds and gaveAndover “Mark” at 1322 Zebra time.
“On the button,”Andover said. “Incidentally, Mobile Five, we have a large group from Spindrift in the observation room listening in. They can’t talk to you, but they can hear you. There are two excited, very pretty girls in the group. Anyone you know?”
The boys chuckled.“Hi, Jan!Hi, Barby!” Rick said, and Scotty echoed him.
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“They each blew you a kiss,”Andover said. “Or maybe those were intended for me. . . . Nope. They shook their heads. Guess I’m not lucky. Mobile Five, we will connect you through to Mobile Nine in Jolo in exactly one minute for test.”
“Roger,Andover ,” Rick said. Then he said quickly, “Listen,Andover , a special request. While we’re testing withNine , have someone phone Roger C. McCauley, president of International Vegetable Oils Exchange Corporation inNew York . This is urgent. Ask him if he fed pork hot dogs to the Emir of Kernel. I’ll repeat that.” He repeated, then waited.
“Will try, Five.Now stand by for Mark.”
On the dot,Andover gave the go-ahead and Rick checked the circuit with Mobile Unit Nine on theislandofJolo in theSulu Sea . It was an island he knew from a previous expedition. The Sultan of Sulu was standing by, Mobile Nine said, and the voice traveled from Jolo to the Syncom satellite 22,300 miles above the Central Pacific, toAndover , to the Atlantic satellite, to Rick, with only the faintest background noise. There was a slight delay in response time because of the distance the signal traveled, but not enough to interfere with conversation. Both Sultans had been briefed on the time lag.
When the test was finished,Andover cut in. “Mobile Five, we got Mr. McCauley in his automobile on the way to the office. It was lucky he had a car phone. We taped his answer. Shall we play it now?”
Rick had a hunch. He couldn’t believe the executive had fed pork to the Emir, and he was sure the reply would prove it. “Scotty,” he said swiftly, “giveyour headset to the Emir.”
Scotty stepped to the Emir’s side and held the earphone to the potentate’s ear.
“Go ahead,Andover ,” Rick said.
“This is McCauley,” the voice said. “Who asked?” There was a brief pause. “Tell your African unit that I most certainly did not feed pork to the Emir of Kernel. This is ridiculous! I personally bought beef hot dogs for the party at aKosher store so there would be no chance of accidentally serving the wrong kind.”
Rick watched the Emir’s face. His eyes opened wide, then closed tight. The Emir slumped in his chair.
“Thanks,Andover ,” Rick said. “Thanks a million! You have just saved Muslim-Christian good relations.
Mother, Dad, everyone, we’ll tell you the story when we get home.”
“Message received,”Andover said. “The two charmers in the front row look puzzled.”
Rick grinned. “Wait until they hear how we threw coconuts at Tuaregs from the back of a mammy wagon.”
Andoverreplied after a moment, “The blond one just held a note up to the glass, saying,‘Wait until we get you home!’” Then, “Stand by,Mobile Five. The talk between the two Sultans will be announced fromWashington . You will not hear the announcement. The Sultan at your end will give the initial greeting at precisely 1330 Zebra time. Stand by for a time check.”
While Scotty checked time, Rick moved to where the Sultan and the Emir sat. “You will speak first, sir,”
he reported. “Mr. Scott will give you the signal.” He looked at the Emir, who met his eyes.
“What can I say?” the Emir asked. “Who except an American would be expected to know that all-beef Page 78
frankfurters were available inAmerica ? I wanted to believe you, but I could not. Is there any way I can make amends?”
Tony Briotti spoke up. “Yes. You can send an emissary to the Tuaregs who took us from you and arrange a truce. Then you can mount an expedition to take us back there. We made an archaeological find that must be properly explored and documented. After that, you can escort us to our original destination in Kernel.”
“It will be done,” the Emir said.
Rick smiled at Tony; then, at Scotty’s signal, took off his headset and placed it on the Sultan’s head.
“Ready,Andover ,” Scotty said. He held up his hand.
Complete silence fell as the seconds ticked away.
Rick was delighted that his family and the Spindrift group had gone toAndover to listen in, and he smiled to himself, imagining Barby’s and Jan’s reaction to the mysterious hints that meant another adventure.
Scotty’s hand dropped.
“In the name of the Prophet, I greet my brother of the True Faith from across the world,” the aged Sultan began, “and I pray that Allah will bless his days and his works.”
From over halfway around the world, the Sultan of Sulu answered while Scotty monitored and Rick and Tony watched.
Rick lifted his face to the sky. The harmattan was not blowing today, and the sky was crystal clear.A brief trip back to the Tuareg camp, to the Kernel site, and then home. It would be good to eat his mother’s cooking, to sleep in his own bed, to look out from the Brant front porch after dinner at the great expanse of theAtlantic Ocean , maybe spinning tall and not-so-tall yarns aboutAfrica to Jan and Barby.
This would happen. But soon after, the lives of Jan, Barby, and Rick would hang on a slender column of fire-a tale to be told in the next Rick Brant Science-Adventure: ROCKET JUMPER.
THE END
THE VEILED RAIDERS
A RICK BRANT SCIENCE-ADVENTURE STORY, No. 20
BY JOHN BLAINE
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