Collected Fiction (1940-1963)

by William P. McGivern

  He tried the door, but it was locked securely. He sat down then on the bundle of rags, turned his collar up about his neck against the damp chill of the place and settled down to await developments.

  They were not long in coming.

  Hardly fifteen minutes had passed before he heard footsteps in the corridor and saw an edge of light under the door. A key clicked against metal and the door swung open; Humai, the plump Wizard, stood in the doorway, holding a lamp above his head.

  “Greetings,” he murmured. “May I come in?”

  Drake got to his feet.

  “Make yourself at home,” he said sarcastically. “Take any chair you like. Would you care for a drink? Something to eat?”

  “You mustn’t be bitter, my friend,” Humai, said suavely. He stepped into the small cell and carefully closed the door behind him.

  “Where is Sharon?” Drake demanded. “What are they going to do to her?”

  Humai shrugged. “I don’t know yet. Tonight she will spend with Zinidad, but after that—” He turned his palms out and shrugged again. “Who knows?”

  Drake clenched his fists and stared helplessly at the heavy door and thick walls of his cell.

  “Isn’t there something I can do to help her?” he asked.

  “We may all need help before long,” Humai murmured. “You are scheduled for the water torture tomorrow. And if our Caliph’s disposition doesn’t improve very shortly he will also want to remove my venerable head.”

  “Possibly,” Drake suggested, “we can work together.”

  Humai smiled. “I was thinking of something like that. I brought you two here to please the Caliph, but it hasn’t quite worked out that way. After all my experiments and labors I have failed to please Zinidad. And in Bagdad that is fatal.”

  In spite of the desperate plight he was in, Drake couldn’t suppress his curiosity in regard Humai’s miraculous ability to pierce the planes of time and space.

  “Just how did you work it?” he asked. “Time travel has been experimented with in the twentieth century but no one ever got beyond the theoretical stage.”

  “It was simple enough,” Humai said. He smiled, his little eyes twinkling. “And I had a very powerful compulsion to stimulate me. The Caliph wished for women of the past and future and I was ordered to provide them for him. I worked for several years on my device and his patience was wearing very thin. If I hadn’t succeeded on my last attempt it is doubtful that I would ever have gotten another chance.”

  “Were we the first to be honored with your attentions?” Drake asked drily.

  Humai nodded.

  “I chose the year nineteen-forty-three at random. But I made a miscalculation on my first attempt and landed in the year of nineteen-forty-four. I stayed just long enough to find out roughly what was going on before coming back to nineteen-forty-three.”

  HUMAI’S words caused a sudden quiver of excitement to race through Drake’s veins.

  “You were actually ‘in’ nineteen-forty-three?” he asked.

  “Yes,” said Humai.

  Drake seized him by both arms.

  “Can you tell me of anything you saw?” he asked.

  Humai frowned and stroked his chin thoughtfully.

  “I didn’t pay much attention,” he said, “I listened to scraps of conversation, drifting here and there, but I wasn’t awfully concerned about what was going on.”

  “You must remember something,” Drake insisted.

  “Oh, yes,” Humai said, “I remember several things. For one, everyone was talking about a place called Dakar.”

  “Yes,” Drake prompted anxiously, “what were they saying about Dakar?” Humai squinted at the ceiling and frowned.

  “They were saying something about an attack being launched from there toward a place called Brazil.”

  Drake snapped his fingers suddenly. “Of course, of course,” he said tensely. “Do you remember anything else?

  Humai thought for a moment and then shook his round head deliberately.

  “No,” said he decisively. “That was all the people were talking about. Everyone seemed quite concerned about it.”

  “Had the attack succeeded?” Drake asked quickly.

  “Oh, yes,” Humai said. “I gathered that it had been quite a thorough success. That was why everyone was so concerned. It seems they hadn’t expected anything like that.”

  “Of course they hadn’t!” Drake said bitterly. “What stupid fools we were.” He began to pace the narrow cell, his clenched hands jammed into his pockets. Humai’s news had shocked him from the thought of his own predicament.

  The Germans had struck—or would strike in ’44—at South America from Dakar. And that attack was going to succeed unless something could be done to warn the Allied leaders of its impending threat.

  He wheeled suddenly on Humai. “I’ve got to get out of here,” he said fiercely. “I’ve got to get back to my own time.”

  “I’m afraid that is quite impossible,” Humai said. “The time device has not been prepared for another trip as yet; and that is liable to take quite some time.”

  “How long?” Drake demanded.

  “I don’t really know,” Humai said. “But,” he added, smiling gently, “only one person at a time can make the trip. And if the Caliph’s present unfriendly attitude toward me continues, I know who that one person is going to be. I will have to use the time device to save myself from his wrath. That may be my only possibility of escaping.”

  “But you don’t understand,” Drake cried. “It’s absolutely imperative that I get back. Or, if only one can go, send the girl back. I’ll stay here—gladly. But one of us has to get back with the information you’ve given me.”

  Humai chuckled softly.

  “It is useless to talk,” he murmured.

  THE cell door behind him suddenly swung slowly open. Humai stopped in mid-sentence when he heard the creak of the hinges. He turned slowly to the door, his face bland, impassive, unrevealing.

  Drake was staring at the woman who stood in the doorway. She was tall, with fine skin and dark smouldering eyes. Her hair was black as a raven’s wing, except for a spot at each temple that looked as if it had been brushed lightly with silver dust. She wore a crimson robe that buckled at her throat with a huge diamond clasp and fell in straight, classic folds to the ground. The points of her small golden slippers were visible under the hem of her cloak.

  Humai inclined his head slightly toward the woman.

  “It is indeed a surprise to see you here, O beautiful Tana.”

  Tana regarded him calmly but there was a faint enigmatic smile at the corners of her curving mouth.

  “I, too, am surprised,” she murmured. “I had hoped to talk to the prisoner alone. It is a pity that you must leave so soon, my dear Humai.”

  “Some things cannot be helped,” Humai sighed. He turned and smiled softly at Drake. “I will speak to you again, my friend.”

  He bowed ceremoniously to Tana and then padded from the cell, closing the door gently behind him.

  Tana waited until his footsteps had faded down the corridor before turning to Drake. Her deep thoughtful eyes regarded him searchingly.

  “I am Tana,” she said softly, when her inspection was completed. “I am the mistress of the Caliph’s harem. I wish to talk to you.”

  “Everyone seems to have that idea tonight,” Drake said, without humor. “There’s not much I can do but listen. What is it you want?”

  “I think perhaps you and I can come to an understanding,” Tana said. “I can offer you your freedom if you are willing to help me.”

  Drake smiled at her.

  “Every bargain has two parts,” he said. “What is it you want me to do?”

  “You are hardly in a position to bargain,” Tana said.

  Drake shrugged. “I think I’m in a pretty good position,” he said. “You obviously need me or you wouldn’t be here. Supposing you tell me the whole story.”

  TANA hesitated momen
tarily. Her fine, delicate features were expressionless, but there was a wary glint in her deep eyes.

  “I can’t tell you everything,” she said finally. “Years ago when I was young and had the enticements of youth to offer our Caliph, I was his favorite and confidant. When he was through with me he didn’t put me to death as was his usual custom. My influence with him was strong enough to prevent him from delivering me to his royal torturers. Instead he appointed me mistress of his harem, where I serve as the custodian and servant to his precious little creatures.” She paused and Drake noticed that her white cheeks were stained with red spots of anger. “I, Tana, who once lived like the queen of Bagdad and with whom ministers and princes vied for favor, was relegated to a position of a servant. Zinidad knew that would be worse than death for me and it has been. The humiliation and baseness of my state is as intolerable as the water torture would have been.”

  “A tough break,” Drake said sympathetically, “but how does all this affect me?”

  “I have never given up my dream of ruling Bagdad,” Tana continued, ignoring his interruption. “Never in the blackest moments of despair have I ceased to hope, to strive, to fight for what is my rightful position. I have made friends, powerful friends with wealth and influence, who know that my knowledge of the Caliph can be valuable to them. There is much dissatisfaction in Bagdad now. The people are over-burdened with oppressive taxes; there is open grumbling in the markets and streets. The time is right for a bold stroke that will break forever the influence of Zinidad. The time has come to revolt!”

  “Sounds like it might be,” Drake said, “But the only difference between a revolt and a revolution is success. Will your revolt succeed? The Caliph has armies, I presume. What of them?”

  “The main battle must be won here in the castle of the Caliph,” Tana said. “Once the private guards of the Caliph are defeated and he is killed, the people will welcome a new Caliph. The army will defer to the wish of the people. Not only can a revolt succeed, it will succeed!”

  “I’m still in the dark about what you want me for,” Drake said.

  “I will tell you,” Tana said quietly. “Your companion from the world of the future, the beautiful red-haired girl called Sharon, is in a position to help us immensely.”

  AT THE mention of Sharon’s name, all of Drake’s desperate anxiety returned.

  “Where is she?” he demanded. “What has that pot-bellied lecher done to her?”

  “Nothing,” Tana said. “That I can promise. I saw their first meeting. I observed what happened from a small hidden peep-hole which I installed for the purpose of spying on the Caliph. She talked to him for several hours, telling him stories of the strange land from which both of you came. The Caliph finally went to sleep and the girl then lay down on a rug on the floor and did likewise. I know, however, that the Caliph is not through with her. He will want to see her again, to hear more of her strange stories. Thus, for the time, she is safe and in a position close to the Caliph where she can do us much good. If,” Tana smiled slowly, “she can be persuaded to help us with our plan.”

  “Ah,” Drake said, “I begin to see. That’s where I come in. I’m to persuade Sharon to help us toss the Caliph into the discard. Is that right?”

  “Yes,” Tana said.

  “And for that I receive my freedom?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Sharon?” Drake asked. “Will she also receive her freedom?”

  Tana hesitated, then shrugged.

  “If you wish it,” she said. “That is a matter of no concern to me. Now what do you say? Freedom for both of you if you help me. If not,” she smiled, “you may take your chances on the tender mercies of the royal torturers.”

  “There’s only one answer,” Drake said. “I’m not a bit interested in your internal problems, but I do want freedom for myself and Sharon. I’ll do what I can with her. How can I arrange to see her?”

  “I will arrange that,” Tana said. “She will be brought here tomorrow morning.”

  “What precisely do you want her to do?” Drake asked.

  “I will tell you later. First talk to her and get her promise to help. Our plans are not quite complete. My main support will come from the mighty bandit, Ali Baba, who will provide me with the men to conquer the Caliph’s guards. When we are ready to strike, I will tell you what the red-haired girl must do. That will be soon enough for her to know.”

  “All right,” Drake said. “How soon will it be before I have my freedom?”

  “There need be no delay about that,” Tana said. “When you have talked to the red-haired one in the morning, I will come to you, bringing you suitable clothes and arms. The guards will be easy to handle. You shall go free then and hide in the hills with Ali Baba until we are ready to strike.”

  She turned and moved to the door.

  “Keep silent of all I have told you,” she murmured.

  She opened the door and when it closed behind her, Drake heard heavy bolts sliding into place.

  CHAPTER V

  DRAKE slept fitfully that night in the dank, odorous cell. There was no change in the gloomy darkness to indicate the rising of the sun and the passage of the hours. His stomach told him he had been a long time without food when he awoke, but he couldn’t tell if it were five in the morning or noon. He was not awake long before he heard steps outside his cell and then the bolts clanged back and the door opened.

  Two guards entered, one of them holding a smoking lamp and the other carrying a bowl of food and a pot of warm goat’s milk which he set on the floor.

  Without a look at Drake, the two huge blacks left the cell, closing and locking the door behind them. Drake was left again in the darkness. He groped his way to the food and managed to eat enough of it to satisfy his hunger. The goat milk he left untouched.

  He had just finished his meal when the door opened again and the same guards entered. One of them removed the empty dish and the bowl of milk while the other motioned Drake to his feet.

  Drake got up and a small, almost naked little boy pattered into the cell carrying in his hands a pot of fragrant incense. He set it down in a corner and then stepped to one side of the doorway, salaaming low, until his forehead almost brushed the floor.

  The giant black came to attention on the other side of the doorway, his great dark moon of a face impassive.

  Drake heard another step in the corridor, a light, quick step, and then Sharon was standing in the doorway, looking incredibly radiant in a floating white gown that was set with hundreds of lustrous, milk-white pearls.

  “Darling!” he cried. He stepped toward her, but the great black put his massive hand against his chest and held him back.

  “Hey, what’s the ideal?” Drake said. “I’ll get rid of them,” Sharon said. She nodded imperiously to the great black guard and to the little boy and clapped her hands. Then she pointed to the door.

  The brown, little boy smiled, salaamed and ducked through the door, followed by the giant guard. When their footsteps faded Sharon closed the door and then came quickly across the floor to Drake.

  “Oh, darling,” she whispered, “I’ve been so worried about you.”

  Drake took her in his arms and smiled into her eyes.

  “You needn’t have been,” he said. “You were the one who was in a bad spot.”

  “You’ll never believe what happened,” Sharon said, “I—”

  Drake nodded. “Tana told me all about your stalling the Caliph with stories of the twentieth century.”

  “Tana?” Sharon said. “The harem mistress? How did you see her? And how did she know?”

  “I’ve got a lot to tell you,” Drake said. “And not too much time, so listen carefully.”

  AS QUICKLY as possible he told Sharon what had happened since he had been dragged from her side in Zinidad’s throne room. When he finished, her face was radiant with excitement.

  “But can we trust her, Drake,” she asked worriedly. “She is guaranteeing us our freedom, but w
e have nothing but her word on that.”

  Drake shrugged.

  “Beggars can’t be choosers; we’ve got to play ball with her, or else.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Sharon said. “But she didn’t say what she wanted me to do, did she?”

  “No,” Drake said, “she didn’t.”

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep Zinidad interested in my stories,” Sharon said. “I’m afraid he’s liable to slip back into character any time. He was very pleasant this morning in a fatherly sort of way.”

  “Well, it’s your job to keep him from feeling any younger than a father,” Drake said.

  “I’ll try,” Sharon said. “I’ve got to be going now. You will take care of yourself, won’t you, darling?”

  “You bet,” Drake said determinedly, “and you too. We’ve got to get out of this place and get back to the twentieth century. I’m not forgetting for a minute that our first job is to get the information of the Nazi attack on South America into the hands of our State Department.”

  Sharon stood on tiptoes to kiss Drake goodby, then turned and left the tiny cell. The guards in the corridor bowed to her and locked the door after she had gone.

  And Drake settled down to wait . . .

  SEVERAL hours passed before the bolts on the door were drawn again, and this time it was Tana who entered, carrying a bundle of clothes over her arm.

  “Put these on as quickly as possible,” she told him. “We have drugged the guards, but they may come to any minute. I’ll keep watch in the corridor. Hurry!”

  When she stepped out of the cell Drake quickly stripped off his own clothes and climbed into the ones she had brought him. He kicked off his patent leather shoes and slipped his feet into comfortable slippers of well-cured leather. Trousers and blouse went on quickly and a veiled turban completed his attire.

  When he stepped into the corridor Tana handed him a belt from which a curved scimitar hung.