Juggernaut

Hammond said, 'How do we persuade the Nyalans to cooperate? We can't pay them.'

'Sister Ursula gave me the answer to that. We can take as many of them across to Manzu as want to go. When the war's over they'll probably drift back again, but right now they're as threatened as we are. I think they'll help us.'

Kemp had been drawing in the sand, and now he said, 'Look, Neil, this is ridiculous. To build a raft big enough to take maybe a couple of hundred people is crazy enough, but to take vehicles across on them is beyond belief. Good God, each tractor weighs forty tons. And how do we embark and disembark them?'

I said, 'You're thinking the wrong way. I agree with you, and I've already rejected that idea. We don't build a raft to get people to Manzu.' It was time to drop the bombshell.

'What? Then what's all this about?'

I said, 'We're going to use it to capture the ferry.'

They stared at me in total silence. McGrath's face warmed into a broad grin of appreciation.

Wingstead said at last, 'You're out of your mind, Neil.'

'OK, what the hell do we do? Sit here and eat ants until the war goes away? We have to do something. Any immunity as foreigners and civilians we might have had was shattered when we met up with Maksa's force. We played soldiers then. And I have a bad feeling about this war; if the Government forces were going to win they'd have done so by now. The rebels are gaining strength and if they take over they aren't going to be exactly lenient.'

Wingstead said, 'You're right. It just seems so far-fetched.'

'Not at all,' said McGrath. 'It's a lovely idea, Mannix. Lovely. How did I give you the idea, if I might ask?'

'You mentioned fire ships,' I said shortly. I needed him desperately but I was damned if I could make myself at ease with him. 'We're going to attack the ferry from the water, the one thing they won't expect.'

I had him with me, naturally. I thought I had Hammond too. He was fully aware of the danger but absorbed by the technical challenge. Kemp might disapprove but couldn't resist putting his mind to the problem.

Hammond said, 'I think at this stage you want to keep this rather quiet, don't you, Mister Mannix?'

'Yes. Why?'

'I'd like Bert Proctor in on it from the start. He's got a good head, and I've worked with him on projects so often — '

I said, 'Yes, of course. Go get him.'

He went off at the double and Wingstead smiled. 'They really are quite a team, you know.' I was still worried about his lack of enthusiasm. He was the kingpin of the team and they looked to him for direction.

Proctor, grave and attentive as always, listened as I recapped. He calmly accepted the idea of Wyvern Transport men turning into privateers, and I understood why Hammond wanted him.

I showed them my idea for building the raft. I hadn't yet calculated the load but I reckoned on as many men as we could muster, at least one or maybe two trucks and whatever we could develop in the way of weapons — a formidable prospect. They were dubious but fascinated and the engineers among them could see the theoretical possibilities. We had to build a raft before considering the rest of the plan.

To Kemp I said, 'Basil, I've got an idea about the rig too. I know how important it is. We'll talk about that later.' This was a sop; I had no ideas about the rig but I couldn't afford to let him know it.

McGrath asked, 'How many men do you think we'll have?'

I said, 'All of Sadiq's men, that's twenty-three. We can't conscript our crew but I don't think anybody will want to be left out. I make that sixteen. Thirty-nine in all.'

'Say thirty-five, allowing for accidents,' said McGrath.

'Fair enough.'

'What did Sadiq have to say about the ferry?'

'They have a guard detachment there. Exactly how many we don't know, but it doesn't sound formidable. If we come out of the dark yelling at them they'll probably scatter like autumn leaves.'

Faces brightened. It didn't sound quite so bad put that way.

McGrath said, 'We'd need much more accurate information than that, Mannix.'

'Oh, I agree. By the way, I haven't spoken to Sadiq yet, but we will soon. I want to propose an expedition, using Sam Kironji's boat. You, McGrath, Geoff, Sadiq and myself. It won't take any more. Down river by night.'

Wingstead said, 'Oh my God, Neil, I don't think we should do that.'

I was dumbfounded. 'What the hell's the matter with you, Geoff? I'm depending most of all on you. For God's sake stop being such a damned pessimist.'

I'd never let fly at an executive in front of his men before. But it was vital to keep morale high and a waverer at the top of the command line could ruin all our plans. He made a strangely listless gesture and said, 'I'm sorry, Neil. Of course I'm with you. Just tired, I guess.'

Zimmerman broke into the embarrassed silence. 'I don't think Geoff should go anyway, Neil. He's got enough on his plate already. Let me come instead.'

I was relieved. Damn it, I wanted Wingstead with me, and yet in his present mood he might be a liability. I wished I knew what was eating him.

'Suppose we succeeded, took the ferry. What then?' Hammond asked. 'Wouldn't their main force get to know about it?'

'Very likely, but they're at Fort Pirie and we'd silence radios and prevent getaways,' I said. 'The only thing we have to pray for is that the ferry is operative, and from what Kironji told me it's been in regular use recently so it ought to be.'

Then what?' Wingstead asked.

'We bring up the rig and get all the invalids on board the ferry, cram it full of people and shoot it across to Manzu. When it comes back we pile on as many vehicles as it can take, trucks for preference, and the last of the people. Once in Manzu it's a doddle. Get to Batanda, alert the authorities and send back transport for the stragglers. I bet they've got cold beer there.'

They chewed on this for a while. I had painted a rosy picture and I knew they wouldn't entirely fall for it, but it was important to see potential success.

Hammond stood up and rubbed out the sketch marks in the sand with his foot. 'Right — how do we start?' he asked practically.

Wingstead looked up, absurdly startled. His face was pale under its tan and I wondered fleetingly if he was simply afraid. But he hadn't been afraid back in the warehouse at Makara.

'I don't know,' he said uncertainly. 'I'd like to think about it a bit, before we start anything. It's just too — '

The hesitation, the slack face, were totally unfamiliar. Doubt began to wipe away the tentative enthusiasm I had roused in the others. Wingstead had cut his teeth on engineering problems such as this and he was deeply concerned for the safety of his men. I had expected him to back me all the way.

The problem solved itself. He stood up suddenly, shaking his head almost in bewilderment, took a dozen paces away from us and collapsed in the dust.

We leapt up to race over to him.

'Go and get a doctor!' Kemp barked and Proctor ran to obey. Gently Kemp cradled Wingstead whose face had gone as grey as putty, sweat-soaked and lolling. We stood around in shocked silence until Dr Kat and Dr Marriot arrived.

After a few minutes the surgeon stood up and to my amazement he looked quite relieved. 'Please send for a stretcher,' he said courteously, but there was one already waiting, and willing hands to carry Wingstead to the mobile hospital. Dr Marriot went with him, but Dr Kat stayed behind.

'I should have seen this coming,' he said. 'But you may set your minds at rest, gentlemen. Mister Wingstead will be perfectly all right. He is not dangerously ill.'

'What the hell is it then?' I asked.

'Overstrain, overwork, on top of the injuries he suffered in the plane crash. He should have been made to take things more easily. Tell me, did you notice anything wrong yourselves?'

I said, feeling sick with anger at myself, 'Yes, I did. I've seen him losing his drive, his energy. And I damned well kept pushing at him, like a fool. I'm sorry — '