by Titan Books
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 schemes 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 ape made 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 put, 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 co
uldn’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.”
“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 tackled 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 Atroro’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.
Aboro stood looking at him for a few seconds, his pistol in his hand. “Inside,” he ordered.
Not far away, General Urko and his troopers watched as Burke entered the building and the door closed behind him. Urko moved his head slightly and made a small gesture. The gorilla troopers had been briefed and understood what their leader meant. They left their place of concealment and scattered to take positions around Aboro’s headquarters.
Inside, Aboro was still tense. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. “Where is my aide, Daku?” he asked.
Burke shrugged. “He delivered your message and left,” he said.
Aboro nodded. He did not need Daku any more that night. Indeed, it might be well not to need Daku any more, ever…” That was a thought Aboro would have to pursue later. “He told you the price?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Burke in a sullen voice. “He said I would be well paid, after.”
“Have no words on that account,” said Aboro. “Let’s make the arrangement now, if it worries you. Fifty kilos of gold and safe passage to another village. You can mingle with other humans until the search is over. And, after this, there will be a search, I can promise you. The murder of Urko will not be lightly passed over.”
Urko stood just outside the building, listening at an open, curtained window. He was invisible to the individuals inside, but everything they said was clearly audible to him. He stiffened at the mention of his name. It seemed that Burke had been telling the truth. Urko resisted the impulse to burst into the building and arrest Aboro then and there. There was more he wanted to hear.
* * *
Virdon, Galen, and Janor were slowly making their way through the sleepy town, trying to reach a small stand of trees where they could take refuge. When they reached their position, Virdon gave signals to the other two. They fanned out according to his plan.
Urko’s first trooper was positioned behind a slender tree near Aboro’s headquarters. While he waited, he thought that he heard a sound from nearby. He turned in that direction, his rifle unslung and held at the ready. Virdon slipped closer, behind the wary ape, and quickly dropped the leather loop on the pole over the gorilla’s head. With a strong yank, Virdon pulled gorilla backward into the brush.
Behind Aboro’s building, the second trooper waited in his position. He heard the sound of the first gorilla being dragged away and reacted. He turned and saw Virdon wrestling the unconscious gorilla out of sight. The second trooper started in that direction stealthily; he reached the area and stopped. He looked about cautiously, his rifle raised. Suddenly, he heard the sound of a soft whistle behind him. He spun around. There stood Galen with a sheepish expression on his face. Before the trooper could do anything, Janor stepped out from behind a tree to the rear of the trooper, dropped his loop over the gorilla’s head and yanked him back, slamming the gorilla’s head into the tree trunk and knocking him unconscious.
* * *
“When do you want the job done?” asked Burke.
“Tonight,” said Aboro. “You will be hiding…” The prefect turned to indicate the green-curtained alcove. Burke nodded. “In there,” said, the prefect. “When I raise my glass in a toast and say, ‘A toast to General Urko,’ that will be your signal to enter and fire.”
At this point, Urko could stand it no longer. He had heard quite enough to convince himself that Burke was telling the truth. He slammed the door open and, pistol in hand, burst in.
“Urko!” cried Aboro in a strangled voice.
“I didn’t want to believe it,” said Urko. “But it’s true, isn’t it, Aboro?”
“Urko,” said Aboro, stricken almost dumb with panic, “I can explain.”
“Can you now?” said Urko.
* * *
Virdon, Galen, and Janor were sneaking up on the last of Urko’s three guards, moving silently like commandos. Virdon dropped the loop over their quarry’s head and quickly subdued the ape. Motioning Galen and Janor out of sight, Virdon raced noiselessly to the door of Aboro’s building. Then, pausing to gather his energy and his resolve, he, too, slammed the door open and stormed in, a pistol extended in his own hand.
“Drop your gun, Urko!” shouted Virdon.
There was a pause; then Urko’s pistol clattered to the floor. The ape general half-turned to see what this interruption meant. His eyes narrowed as he recognized his adversary. “Virdon!” he exclaimed.
Virdon ignored the ape, and turned to Burke. “We’ve been tracking you all over the countryside!” he said. “How’d you wind up here, with him?”
“It wasn’t my idea, buddy,” said Burke, obviously relieved to see that his friends had been able to improvise his rescue. “I would have been plenty satisfied to go along with our original plan. But this hairy Napoleon had to mess things up, like usual.”
“Well, tell me all about it later,” said Virdon. “Let’s get out of here.”
Burke sidled past his friend, moving cautiously by the chagrined Urko. Virdon covered the other man’s escape; then he, too, edged out of Aboro’s place and slammed the door behind him. Burke and Virdon raced through the sheltering darkness toward the clearing where Galen and Janor waited for them.
“I’m glad to see you Pete!” said Galen, his voice choked with emotion.
“I’m glad to see me, too, old buddy!” said Burke, laughing.
“You’re something else,” said Virdon.
“The next time,” said
Burke, shuddering, a little, “you can be something else. I’ll let you play the starring role, and I’ll stay in the audience.” All together, they moved out quickly, disappearing into the deeper night beyond the village of Hathor.
* * *
The next morning saw Urko leading his guards, recovered but aching, and the rest of his entourage away from the District Headquarters area. All the apes were mounted on fresh horses, including, in the middle of the armed pack of guards, Aboro and Daku, their hands bound behind their backs. Their expressions were hopeless. Urko turned to survey his former friend. “You could have had a great future, Aboro,” said Urko, shaking his head. Then it occurred to Urko that “a great future” was what the former prefect’s murder plan was intended to insure. Once again Urko turned and glared wordlessly at the traitor. The parade passed a small crowd of humans, for whom this was the greatest entertainment in some time. In the midst of this crowd, and therefore unnoticed, stood Virdon, Burke, Janor, and Galen. They watched the procession move away from them.
“So much for the ‘Lord of the Apes,’” murmured Burke.
“Thank you, Virdon,” said Janor softly. The burly farmer turned from the blond astronaut to Burke. “And you, too, Pete. And Galen. I owe you much more than my life.”
Galen stared at the diminishing spectacle of Urko’s party, as it rode further away. “The Supreme Council will have to bring Augustus back as Prefect,” he said. “And this time he’ll be able to appoint an honest police chief.”
Janor nodded, then turned back to Virdon. “I didn’t want to believe your way would work,” he said. “There was such a hurt inside me. I thought the only way it could be healed was to inflict hurt.”
“We understand,” said Virdon.
Burke shouldered his pack, filled with fresh supplies. He handed another pack to Galen. “Well,” said Burke, “I guess we’d better be moving on.”
Galen spoke; he sounded disappointed. “Oh, do we have to?” he asked. “I was looking forward to staying on for a while.”