by Ronald Seth
I wrenched my body to one side to avoid him, but was not quite quick enough. The fender caught my left thigh and sent me sprawling on the ground.
As he went into reverse the engine stalled and I scrambled to my feet, only dully feeling the pain in my leg. As he grappled with the self-starter I flung open the door and, seizing his jacket collar, hauled him out onto the ground.
He was not a well-built man and did not weigh more than a hundred and fifty pounds, I imagine. But he was very frightened, and his fear gave him a strength which was quite unexpected and took me at first by surprise.
Before I could get my hands at his throat he had thrown me off. By a mischance, as I struck the ground my head hit a large stone with a sharp crack. Lights flashed in my eyes and my mind was numbed for some seconds. When I came to myself again it was to find my lungs bursting as his fingers pressed on my windpipe.
More by good fortune than by design, he had pinioned my arms to my side with his knees and I could not get them free. Fortunately, he was sitting far back over my hips, and, while I struggled to retain consciousness, I gathered all my strength for a last effort to release myself.
Digging my heels into the ground, I arched my back and almost at the same moment fell back. This had the effect of leaving him in the air for a split second, but it was long enough for me to draw up my right knee between his legs and, with a rapid heave and twist, to lever him off balance. Taken by surprise, he released one hand from my throat, and with my arms released by the relaxing of the grip of his knees, I got them both up and seized the lapels of his jacket. The next moment our positions were reversed and I was pinning him down with my hands on his throat. But his fear was still giving him extraordinary strength, and the slightness of his body made it difficult for me to get a grip on him with my knees.
It was his turn now to spring the surprise. Instead of taking the usual avoiding action to my hold, he rolled over and over two or three times and completely threw me off him. With a quick scramble he was on top of me again; but I was face downward, and instead of going for my throat he seized me by the hair and pulled back my head until I was sure that my neck would snap.
The combination of the pain in my scalp and in my neck made it impossible for me to lever myself off the ground with my elbows and knees. I had to fight all I knew how to keep my mind clear at all. When I was quite certain my neck could resist no longer, he stopped pulling it back, let go of my hair and pushed my face into the ground. This was more than I could bear. The gravel and small stones cut my lips and nose and pressed against my eyeballs. Try as I might, I could not prevent my consciousness from gradually slipping away.
As the blackness drew down over my mind, suddenly he gave a grunt and I felt the weight of his whole body pressing me down.
When I came to the weight was gone and I heard old George's voice saying: "Are you all right, captain?"
I pulled myself up to a sitting position and gently shook my head before opening my eyes. Then I saw the body of the salesman lying less than a yard from me, the handle of a knife sticking from between his shoulder blades.
"We seem to have arrived just in time, captain," a new voice said.
I looked up. Standing beside George was a broad-shouldered stockily built man of about fifty dressed in the working clothes of a farmer. In his brown eyes there was a twinkle of good humor and he smiled as he looked down at me.
Old George helped me up.
"This is my friend Anton Maran," he said. "He's much cleverer than I am. If anyone can help you, it will be Anton. Come, let's go into the house. A glass of my homemade prunella will soon put you right and you can tell Anton your story."
When we were seated round the table and the homemade plum wine had begun its good work of restoring my strength, Anton Maran said to me: "What is your name, captain?"
"Geoffrey Martel," I told him.
"And why have you come to Gallonia?"
There was authority in his voice as he put the questions to me, as if he were used to giving orders and used to being obeyed. I do not know what prompted me to answer as I did, and I did not realize what I was saying until I heard my voice pronouncing the words.
"I have come to see Lake Tana," I said, "because the waters of Lake Tana are blood red."
There was a silence in the furniture-crowded room, a deep silence broken only by the panting of the old goat in the outer compartment. Maran looked at George Manek and then back at me.
"What did you say, Captain Martel?" he asked.
"The waters of Lake Tana are blood red," I said.
A smile broke out all over his face, and he stood up and stretched out his hand across the table and seized mine and shook it hard.
"You have come to help us," he said. "That is good. Whom do you know in the Gallia—that's what we call our resistance movement, you know?"
"I don't know anyone," I answered. "But I was told in London that if I got into difficulties and spoke that phrase I might find someone to help me."
"Anton is the Gallia organizer for this district," old George said. "You could not have found a better man."
"Can you help me, Mr. Maran?" I asked, turning to him. "I must get to Tredentz to see Dr. Paranu. He has some important papers for me, which I must take back to England."
"Dr. Paranu! You mean our great eye specialist?" Maran asked.
"I don't know," I answered. "He works at the Central Hospital in Tredentz."
"Yes, that will be the man. Is it indiscreet to ask what papers?"
"I'm afraid so. All I know is that Gallia is in touch with the West, and have some very important military information to pass to us. It could not be passed by the usual methods and I have been sent to fetch it. I can tell you this, Mr. Maran: it must be of the highest importance, otherwise I should not have been sent by my service."
"That is quite enough for us," Maran replied. "If you must see one of our leaders we will do all we can to help you. But I think we should go to my place. George has nowhere to hide you in safety should the L.P.R. pay him a return visit. I have. My sons are all members of Gallia, and between us we will get you to Tredentz somehow."
So when Maran and old George had hidden the body of the salesman temporarily in my recent hiding place, the hay shack, until night, when they would dispose of it permanently, the farmer and I returned to his farm in the car for which the dead man no longer had any use.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Maran Farm
As we came into the kitchen of the farmhouse, Maran's family was sitting at the long table, eating their midday meal. There were two young men, a boy of fifteen and a young woman of about twenty-one. They all stood up when we went in and looked at me with interest, although politely.
The farmer introduced me to the young woman first.
"This is my daughter Maria," he said. "Since my wife died two years ago she has kept house for us. Maria, a bowl of soup for Captain Martel, who has come from England to help us."
Maria held out her hand and smiled a welcome, and while her father was introducing the others she went to a large open fireplace at the end of the kitchen and from a pot suspended over glowing logs ladled the thick meat-and-vegetable soup into a bowl.
Turning to the young man—I supposed he was twenty-four or so—who was sitting on the far side of the table next to Maria, he said: "This is Robert, Maria's husband. He is my foreman, and a very good farmer."
Maria, coming to the table with my bowl of soup, moved the boy's bowl farther down the table so that I might sit in the place of honor next to her father.
It was to the boy that Maran introduced me next.
"This is my younger son, Ray. He is following in my footsteps, and if he continues to make the progress he is already making, he will be able to be my foreman when Robert and Maria have their own farm."
Ray's brother, Francis, was nineteen and a student of law at Tredentz University. It was holiday time, so he was helping on the farm.
"But his heart is not in farm
ing," his father remarked. "And I am not sorry. Here in Gallonia we always hope to have one clever member of the family, and when we are lucky, all the rest of us do what we can to send him to the university. Old George's brother is a deputy secretary of the Ministry of the Interior. Perhaps Francis may one day be minister of justice, who knows? Though not under this regime."
"Now, come along, Father," Maria said. "Let Captain Martel sit down, and you too. Your soup will be cold if you stand talking there."
While we ate the soup, which was more like what we call a stew, Maran told them what had happened to me, and that I must reach Tredentz, where I must see Dr. Paranu.
"But Dr. Paranu no longer lives at Avenue Vannamagi," Francis said.
"How do you know?" Maran demanded.
"Because Professor Grendal told me that next term I must go to my private session with him at Dr. Paranu's old house," Francis answered.
"When did the doctor move?" I asked.
"Two weeks ago."
"Where is he living now?"
"That I do not know, captain."
"It is strange that I was not told," I said. "And as things have turned out, though I have been angry with myself, perhaps I have had a lucky escape. I should have gone to Avenue Vannamagi, and as I do not know Dr. Paranu by sight I should have mistaken Professor Grendal for him."
"That would have been very bad for you," Francis remarked. "Grendal is professor of modern law, and they say he will be the next minister of justice. He is a very important member of the Party."
"So perhaps you can thank providence now, instead of cursing her," Maran said.
I could indeed. I had been feeling very bitter about the way things had gone for me; but now I realized that had I arrived at Tredentz safely and seen Grendal, I might have betrayed everything to him without knowing what I was doing.
"How can we find Dr. Paranu's new address?" I asked.
"That will not be easy without explaining why we want to know. Gallia is not a very large organization, though we are growing every month, and our contacts are not as wide as we should like them to be."
"The best and surest way of seeing him would be for Captain Martel to visit him at the hospital," Robert suggested.
"But how can he do that?" Maran demanded. "Dr. Paranu is a great specialist and can only be seen by appointment, I'm sure."
"It was only an idea," Robert said quietly.
"Papa!" It was young Raymond speaking.
"Yes, son."
"Papa, perhaps Dr. Balun could help us," the boy said. "He will know what happens at the Central Hospital, and with great specialists like Dr. Paranu."
Maran considered the suggestion for a moment. "Yes, you are right, Ray. We will ask Dr. Balun," he said. "What I suggest we do is to get the doctor to visit us this evening, and together we can work out a plan." He turned to me. "Dr. Balun is our local doctor, and one of us, captain."
"First," said Maria, "we must get rid of Captain Martel's clothes. I haven't heard the radio today, but the captain said the fertilizer man recognized his greatcoat."
"I'm quite sure he did," I exclaimed.
"If he did not hear it on the radio, then someone must have told him," Maria went on.
"He probably met the L.P.R. who went to George Manek's place," Ray suggested.
"Perhaps. But if they told him, they will have told others, that's quite certain. But in any case they have a good description of what he is wearing," Maria said, "so we will see if any of Robert's or Francis' clothes will fit him."
When the men had gone back to their jobs Maria took me upstairs. The kitchen was the only room on the ground floor, but upstairs a passage ran the whole length of the house in the middle, and from it opened the bedrooms, three on each side.
We went first into Francis' room.
"His city clothes are much more respectable than Robert's, if they will fit you," Maria said.
But though his trousers were my size, I had to have a shirt and a jacket of Robert's.
Maria then took me to a room in the right-hand corner of the house. There I should spend the night, she told me. Did I wish to rest now? If I did, she would make up the bed at once.
"No," I said. "I have rested enough."
So we went downstairs and despite her protests I helped her to wash up and prepare the vegetables for the evening meal after we had torn up and burned in the great kitchen fire every stitch of clothing I had brought with me from England.
It was while I was peeling potatoes, later in the afternoon, that we heard a car draw into the farmyard and stop.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The First Step in Plan-Making
My, and I think Maria's, first thought was—secret police.
Grasping my hand, Maria half-pulled me toward a small storeroom which led out of the kitchen, about halfway down the windowless back wall.
"Quick!" she said. "Get in here, under these sacks."
I slumped down in a corner and she picked up an armful of sacks from a nearby heap and dropped them over me. The sacks had been used for potatoes and were full of fine earth dust, which rose from them in small clouds each time Maria moved them.
She had not arranged the sacks properly over my head, in her hurry, and as I tried to rearrange them, I saw she had not closed the door of the outhouse into the kitchen. But it was too late for me to do anything about it, because at that moment I heard a man's voice calling: "Are you there, Maran? Ah, Maria! Where's your father? Is he ill?"
"No, he's well, doctor, thank you," Maria answered.
I sighed with relief, but until I was summoned I thought I ought to stay where I was. It might not be Maria's plan to let the doctor know I was here.
"Janek brought me a message from your father saying he wished me to call this evening," the doctor went on. "But I'm busy this evening, and as I was nearby, I thought I would call now."
"He's out in the barn," Maria told him. "I'll go and fetch him. Please sit down, doctor."
"I'll stretch my legs, thank you, Maria," the doctor replied.
I heard the outside door of the kitchen open and close, and then the doctor's footsteps on the flagstones of the kitchen as he paced up and down, passing the door of my hiding place on each turn.
I had been on tenterhooks ever since Maria had thrown the sacks over me. A good deal of the dust from them had got into my mouth and down my throat, and more had got up my nose. Now I felt a sneeze beginning. I could not put my hand up to stop or stifle it, as I should have moved all the sacks that were covering me. I drew down my lower lip and bit into it, but it was no good. The sneeze exploded just as the doctor was passing the door of the storeroom.
His footsteps stopped abruptly and there was a moment's silence. Then I heard him coming toward me. I could feel, more than hear, his presence towering above me.
"Rats!" I heard him mutter.
There was a clank of steel against stone as he picked up a spade. Then his heavy breathing came within a few feet of me as he bent down and carefully began to remove the sacks from me, one by one.
This was an odd position to be in. Anyone's reaction, when looking for rats, would be to strike at the first object they saw. I was not at all anxious to be struck by a spade, but there was little I could do except reveal myself.
Every sack removed I was sure would uncover some part of me. I tensed myself, ready to turn this way or that in an attempt to avoid a blow.
The next sack…
Then Maria's voice came from the kitchen door. "Doctor… doctor… where are you?"
"I'm here, in the storeroom," the voice above me shouted back. "You've rats in here. Did you know?"
"There are no rats in here, doctor," Maran's voice came from the doorway. "It's good of you to come."
"What is it you want?" the doctor asked as he put down the spade.
Their voices faded a little as they went to the kitchen table.
"Maria, the prunella, please!" her father called. Then to the doctor: "Dr. Paranu, the eye speci
alist, has recently moved from his apartment. How can we find out his new address without attracting any attention?"
"Impossible!" the doctor replied. "Why would a farmer like you want to know Paranu's address? Everybody you asked would want to know why."
"But what about you, doctor?"
"If I wanted to get in touch with Paranu I would do so at the Central Hospital in Tredentz. But why do you want to contact Paranu?" The doctor's voice was curious.
There was a short silence before Maran answered, and then in a few short sentences he told him of my difficulties.
"Where is the Englishman?" Dr. Balun asked. "I'd like to shake his hand."
I appeared in the doorway of the storeroom at that moment.
"Your rats, doctor," I smiled.
"Great heavens!" he exclaimed, as he stood up and came to me with extended hand. "You had a narrow escape."
"I appreciate that, doctor," I grinned.
"Come and sit down, captain," Maran said, and poured me out a glass of prunella, refilling his own and the doctor's glasses. "We wish you all success!"
"Thank you," I replied, and drank with them.
"I have an idea," the doctor said, wiping his lips on the back of his hand. "Paranu has a clinic at the hospital every morning from ten to twelve. You must have a sick eye, captain. I will come early tomorrow and bandage your head and give you a note for Paranu giving the diagnosis. That will get you into his consulting room and the rest will be up to you. What do you say?"
"It seems the answer," I said. "What do you think, Mr. Maran?"
"Yes… yes… it might work," Maran answered slowly. "Francis drives a car. We will disguise the fertilizer salesman's car during the night and Francis shall drive you to Tredentz tomorrow morning."
"But I can't involve any of you," I protested. "You must not stop us from doing our duty," Maran said. "We shall take no unnecessary risks, captain, I promise you that. You are a military man, and I am sure you will understand me when I ask you, until you reach Dr. Paranu, to put yourself under my command unless you see a threat to your mission in anything I may propose."