And then the quiet of the night was shattered again. To the east there was thunder. There followed noises like Fourth of July rockets, and the earth shook underfoot. It was the sound of heavy gunfire and small arms. The war was catching up with us at last.
CHAPTER 18
Things began to happen fast.
From the military camp soldiers came running towards the warehouse. People milled about in the darkness and shouted questions. The men around me were galvanized into agitation which could become panic.
I shouted for attention. 'That was gunfire. Keep together and stay quiet. Let the soldiers do their job. Hammond, you there?'
'Yes, I'm here.'
'Set guards round all the transports, especially the trucks and cars. The rig can't be shifted so it's reasonably safe. Basil, go tell the doctors and staff to stay put whatever happens. I'm sorry about Max, but tell Geoff I need him here fast.'
He ran off and I went on, 'Zimmerman — if Russ Burns isn't fit get him to the medics. I'm going to find the Captain.'
I heard Burns mumble, 'I'll be OK, Harry,' and turned away. I wondered what had become of McGrath; at the very first sound of battle he had disappeared, cat-like, into the night. I headed off towards the military area, stumbling over camp litter. I heard guns firing again before I found Captain Sadiq.
He was at his staff car, and inevitably on the radio. He spoke for some time, looking alarmed and then ripped off the headphones.
'What's happening?' I asked.
'Army units coming from the east, from Kodowa. They ran into a patrol of men and started shooting.'
'We heard a big gun.'
'I think they shelled a truck.'
'They must be the rebels,' I said.
'Maybe, Mister Mannix. Men become nervous in the dark.'
'How many?'
'I don't know yet. My corporal reported many vehicles coming this way. Not in battalion strength but not far short. Then the transmission stopped.'
So a whole platoon of Sadiq's men was possibly wiped out. I asked if he knew how far off they were.
'Six miles, maybe. They could be here in half an hour or less.'
This could be a nasty mess. With the Nyalan civilians strung out all the way to the bridge, with our sick and wounded, and with a small bunch of virtually unarmed white rig-pushers, there could be a massacre. And to prevent it a handful of soldiers armed with rifles and one or two light mounted guns.
Sadiq said, 'If we stand and fight it will be useless. We couldn't combat a company, let alone this strength. Sergeant! Get the men ready to pull out. There must be no shooting under any circumstances. We'll be moving that way.' He pointed away from Makara. This had been in English and was clearly for my benefit, but he carried on in Nyalan. The sergeant went off at a run.
I said, 'So you're pulling out — leaving us? What the hell are we supposed to do on our own?'
He raised a hand to silence me. Danger had increased his authority and he knew it. 'No, Mister Mannix. There are tracks beyond the warehouses which lead into the bush. I'm going to hide my men there. If I am to be of any Use it can only be from a position of surprise. I suggest that you make your camp look as peaceful as possible. And that means hiding all weapons, including your shotgun. And anything that Mister McGrath may have.'
'You know about him?'
'I am not a fool, Mister Mannix. You took a pistol from him, but he may have some other weapon. When the soldiers come act peacefully. As soon as possible give me a signal. If they are loyal troops you fire this.'
He handed me a Very pistol and a couple of cartridges.
The white star will signal no danger. If there is trouble, fire the red. Try not to provoke them.'
Sadiq could simply vanish into the bush and desert us but I felt that he would do no such thing. I said, 'Thank you, Captain. And good luck.'
He saluted me, jumped into his car, and was gone into the night.
'Remarkable,' said a voice behind me. Wingstead had been listening. I nodded briefly, then called Bing. 'Get back to the rig, Sandy. Tell the men to gather round quietly and wait for us. And take the guards off the trucks. Tell Mister Hammond I said so.' I debated giving instructions to immobilize the transports but reflected that it might do us as much harm as our enemy., Zimmerman was beside me. I said to him, 'Please go fetch Mister Kemp. He'll be at the rig. And get Doctor Kat as well. Tell him he must leave his patients for a few minutes.'
Wingstead said, 'I gather we aren't sure if it's the goodies or the baddies who are coming along, right?'
'Exactly right. So we play it as cool as we can. What's happened with Otterman?'
'He was having some sort of convulsion. God knows what it is; the medics have nothing left to sedate him with. I feel responsible but I can't do him one bit of good. I've never had a man working for me die before.'
'Well, he's not dead yet. They'll pull him through if they can,' I said, but it was hollow comfort. We hurried back to the rig, and I noticed that the Nyalan refugees had vanished; like the soldiers, they had dissolved back into the land. It had needed no bush telegraph to pass the word. They had heard and recognized the gunfire.
Back at the rig Hammond had got my message and gathered the men together. The army's pulling out,' someone said.
'Who's doing the shooting?'
'Hold it! Just shut up and listen. Harry, you translate for our Russian friends, please. This is the position as far as we know. There's a force coming down from Kodowa. They ran into one of Sadiq's patrols and we think they shot them up, so it's likely that they're rebels. But we can't be sure yet. Mistakes happen in the dark.'
And in broad daylight too, I thought, remembering the bombing raid on Kodowa.
'If they are rebels they'll be too much for Sadiq to handle, so he's done a little disappearing act with his men. We'll signal to let him know if the new arrivals are friendly or otherwise. If they want to know where Sadiq is, he's gone off with his men. It's important that everybody tells the same story. He left us as soon as we got here. Right?'
Kemp asked, 'Why this flimflam? He's supposed to stay and guard the rig, isn't he?'
Not for the first time I despaired of Kemp's singlemindedness. I said, 'I'll explain later,' and turned back to the men.
'When they get here I want the camp to look normal. Remember, we know nothing about their politics and care less. We're paid to push the rig, that's all. We're a crowd of foreigners in the middle of a shooting war, trying to keep our noses clean, and we're scared.'
'None of us will have to be Laurence Olivier to act that part,' someone said.
'Let Mister Wingstead or me answer any questions. And no rough stuff, no opposition, no matter what.' This wouldn't be easy. Men like this wouldn't willingly allow themselves to be pushed around. But it was essential. Opposition could only bring reprisal.
A voice said, 'Why stay here? Why don't we scarper and hide out in the bush till they've gone, same as the army?'
Dr Kat said sharply, 'I am not leaving my patients.'
'I don't think it'd wash, or I'd be the first to go,' Wingstead put in. 'If there's no-one here they'll get suspicious and come looking for us.'
His calm decisiveness was what was needed. There wasn't a man amongst them who didn't respect him.
I said, 'Right, let's get this camp looking peaceful.'
I left Wingstead to organize things and went to the Land Rover to get the shotgun and its shells. I took them into the warehouse and hid them deep inside a bale of cotton, hoping that nobody had seen me do it. Then I went back to rejoin Wingstead at the rig.
He had persuaded the doctors and Sister Ursula to accept our need for deception, and to brief the nurses. I had a quick Took at Otterman and was not reassured. He looked desperately ill.
Geoff and I made a quick tour of the camp, checking to make sure that everything looked reasonably normal. Of the Nyalans there was no sign whatsoever, and Sadiq had taken off his platoon complete with all their transport. Camp fires had been e
xtinguished and there was nothing to show that his departure had been anything other than orderly.
We settled down around the rig, tense and nervous, to wait for our visitors. They took about an hour to reach us, and it was probably the longest wait of our lives.
CHAPTER 19
We heard them before we saw them.
Bert Proctor cocked his head at the distant rumble, then settled at the table and picked up his cards. 'Just go on with the game,' he said quietly.
Ron Jones got up. 'Count me out, Bert. I'm too nervous,' he said.
I took his place. 'Deal me in. Just take it easy, Ron. No sweat.'
As Proctor dealt I noticed that Russ Burns was one of my fellow players. To my surprise he spoke to me directly.
'You play goddamn rough, Mannix,' he said. The 'Mister' had disappeared. 'Where did you get that goon you set on me?'
'I didn't get him. I inherited him. He's one of Wyvern's best rig hands,' I said. I didn't expect friendship from Burns but he sounded easy enough.
'I really thought he was going to cut my throat. He's pretty dangerous,' Burns said.
'I'll try to keep him on a leash,' I said casually. 'By the way, anyone seen Mick lately?'
There were headshakes all round.
Burns looked at his cards and cursed them. 'We've got a few things to sort out, you and me, after this is over,' he said, 'but if there's trouble in the meantime, I'm with you. What say?'
'Suits me.' We played a round or two with less than full attention. The engine noises were louder and there were voices shouting. Soon we put our cards down to watch the arrival of the army.
A few motorcyclists came first. They roared to a halt just over the crest of the hill that led down to Makara and the camp, and there was a glow in the sky behind them as the rest followed. Soldiers came through the bush on each side of the road. I hoped they wouldn't fan out far enough to find Sadiq's team.
The minutes ticked by and there were rustling sounds in the undergrowth. They were being cautious, not knowing what they were getting into, and nervous men could do stupid things. We stood fully illuminated while they closed in around us, and felt terrifyingly vulnerable.
Wingstead said loudly, 'I'm going to bed. We've got a busy day ahead. Goodnight, everyone.'. I followed his lead. 'Me too. That's enough poker for one night.'
Hammond, in a flash of inspiration, said equally loudly, 'What about all the activity out there, Mister Wingstead? Anything we should know about?'
'No, I don't think so,' he replied. 'Just manoeuvres, I should guess. They won't bother us.'
Truck after truck was coming over the crest towards us. I couldn't see any tanks but the trucks' headlights began to light up the whole camp in a glaring display. A ring of armed soldiers was gathered on the fringes of the camp, and we knew we were surrounded.
I shouted to carry over the engine roar, 'We've got company. Let's hope they can spare us some food and medical stuff.'
Into the light came a command car. In the back was a captain, his uniform identical to Sadiq's except that he wore a red brassard on his right arm. He was unlike Sadiq in looks too; where Sadiq had a distinctly Arabic cast and a light skin this was the blackest man I had ever seen. He was huge and burly and most unnervingly wearing enormous dark glasses; in combination with his dark skin and the night the effect was weird.
He stood up in the back of the car and looked from us to the rig and then back. He said in English, 'Who are you?'
I answered. The rig team of Wyvern Transport. Who are you?' But my counterattack didn't work; I hadn't thought it would.
'Are you in charge of- of this?' He indicated the rig.
'No,' I said, 'that's Mister Wingstead here. I am his associate. We were taking a transformer up to the oilfields. But now we have to head back westward.'
'Where is Captain Sadiq?' he asked abruptly.
I'd been expecting that question.
'He should be well on the road to Fort Pirie by now. He left at first light with his men.'
'You're lying,' the captain said. 'Where is he?'
One of his men hitched his rifle. We were in the hands of a military power, and an unfriendly one at that. I hadn't been accustomed to shutting up at anyone else's say-so for a long time and it was an unpleasant sensation. I put an edge on my voice. 'Now wait a minute, captain. You're not dealing with soldiers now. You'd better consult your superior officer before you start dictating to civilians. I told you that Captain Sadiq left this morning and pushed on. He had orders reassigning him. I don't know where he is now and I can't say I care. He left us flat.'
All this rolled off his back without touching. 'I do not believe you,' he said. There is much that is strange here. Who are all the people we found on the road as we came up?'
'Women and children? They're local folk, following us for food, and they're in a bad way. I think you should be doing something to help them.'
He regarded the rig again. 'What is that stuff up there?' He'd recognized the incongruity of the thatching.
That's a long story,' I said. 'You've been in Kodowa lately? Then you'll know what it was like there. The hospital wasn't usable so we turned the rig into a travelling hospital. We're trying to get the patients to Fort Pirie. Perhaps you can help us, Captain.'
He looked at me unbelievingly. 'Why didn't you take them to Kanja? There's a hospital there and it's closer.'
'We tried. But there's a bridge down in between.'
Apparently he hadn't known that, because he fired questions at me about it and then called a couple of messengers and rattled off orders to them. Then he turned to me and said curtly, 'I am leaving soldiers on guard here. You will stay until I return or until the Colonel arrives.'
'We're going no place, Captain,' I said. 'Not until morning, at any rate. Then perhaps you can help us get the rig across the bridge.'
He gave another order and the car swung round and drove off. A circle of soldiers, rifles at the ready, stood around us. The guns they held were Kalashnikovs.
I sighed and sat down.
'Well done. You're quite a con man,' Wingstead said.
'Cool it, Geoff. God knows how many of them understand English.'
Then we realized that the soldiers had orders to do more than just stand around watching us. A sergeant was doing what sergeants do, and corporals were doing what corporals do; passing orders from top to bottom. They began to swarm over our camp and vehicles and I heard the sound of breaking glass.
'Hold on! What are you doing there?' Kemp asked angrily.
'We follow orders. You go back,' a sullen voice answered.
I turned to a sergeant. 'What's the name of your colonel?'
He considered the question and decided to answer it. 'Colonel Maksa,' he said. 'He will be here soon. Now you go back.'
Reluctantly we retreated away from the vehicles. I hoped to God the soldiers wouldn't try clambering over the rig too, and that they'd respect the doctors and nurses.
We stood around helplessly.
'What the hell do they want?' Kemp asked.
'You could try asking Colonel Maksa when he arrives, but I don't recommend it. I bet he's another man who asks questions and doesn't answer them. I'm pretty sure these are rebel troops; the regulars would be more respectful. But I remembered Hussein and doubted my own words.'
'Are you going to send that signal to Sadiq?'
'Not yet. Let's keep that ace in the hole for when we really need it.'
Kemp said, 'Bloody terrorists. Don't they know they can't win?'
'I wouldn't be too sure of that,' Wingstead said. 'And I wouldn't use that word too freely. One man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter. No doubt they see themselves as glorious liberators.'
The doors of the warehouse opened and light streamed out. Soldiers were manhandling two men into the open; they were Dan Atheridge and Antoine Dufour, who had retired to sleep on the cotton bales. Atheridge was writhing as someone wrenched his broken arm clear of its sling.
'Good God, what are they doing to them?' Kemp asked in horror.
'I'd like to know,' I said grimly. 'Those two are about the most pacifist of the lot of us.' I wondered if it had anything to do with the shotgun I'd hidden.
Into this scene drove two staff cars; in one was our black-goggled Captain and in the other a large, impressive man who must have been Colonel Maksa. He had the Arabic features of many of his countrymen, marred by a disfiguring scar across his face. His uniform looked as though it had just been delivered from the tailors, in marked contrast to the bedraggled appearance of his Captain and men. He stood up as his car stopped and looked at us coldly.
I tried to take the initiative.
'I must make a formal protest, Colonel Maksa,' I said.
'Must you?' This was a more sophisticated man than the Captain, and just those two words warned me that he could be very dangerous.
'We are a civilian engineering team. Your soldiers have been interfering with our camp and assaulting our men. I protest most strongly!'
'Have they?' he asked indifferently. He alighted from his car and walked past me to look at the rig, then returned to confer with his Captain.
At last he turned back to us.
'Line up your men,' he ordered. Wingstead gestured to the crew and they came to stand with him in a ragged line. The soldiers brought Dufour and Atheridge and dumped them among us. Both looked dazed. I glanced down the line. The two Lat-Am men were there, Burns at his most belligerent and being restrained by a nervous Zimmerman. So were both the Russians, and I hoped that Zimmerman would remember that if they were slow in obeying orders because they couldn't understand them there might be trouble. It would be ironic if they were killed by Moscow-made weapons.
All our own men were there save Mick McGrath, and on him I had begun to pin absurd hopes. None of the medical people were present. There were soldiers in front and behind us, and paradoxically the very fact they were behind us made me feel a little better, because otherwise this would look too much like an execution.
Maksa spoke to his Captain, who barked an order.
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