Homer turned his eyes to his military head. “Isn’t it obvious? We need an elite corps here in Tamanrasset for major developments, but we also need a desert camel corps to protect outlying installations. The goums won’t be able to defend against major attacks but their very presence will be a warning. They are representatives of El Hassan. They will be issued ample funds and any who loot, or molest women, will answer first to his mokkadam, his headman, second he will answer to Guémama, and finally to El Hassan himself. Frankly, Bey, I’m worried about such projects as that of Ralph Sandel’s Sahara afforestation deal at Bidon Cing, there on the Tanezrouft crossing of the desert. Our enemies are going to want to knock out every Reunited Nations project underway. Such destruction will undermine El Hassan, possibly even be blamed on him. We’ve got to protect every effort now being made by American and other educated blacks to develop the country.”
Isobel was looking at him strangely. She said, “You mentioned back there, that Guémama was to take over the initial training of our new forces, until the return of you and Bey. Where do you expect to be, Homer?”
He sucked in air before reaching down into a briefcase which leaned up against the chair in which he sat. He came up with a small box, opened it and brought forth something wrapped in tissue paper. He unwrapped the paper and stared down at the gruesome contents, as did the others. Isobel turned her head in feminine rejection. It was a severed finger and on it a gold college class ring, which most of those present recognized.
Homer said emptily. “When we first decided to attempt to take Tamanrasset, Bey was sent down into Teda country to raise a column; Kenny was sent into Nemadi, since he was the only one of us who spoke the dialect of Hassania. Elmer was sent up into Chaambra country for the same purpose, though there El Hassan has thus far met the strongest opposition. Isobel, Cliff and I took on the recruiting of the Tuaghi.”
He pointed at the severed finger. “I received that the same night that we completed the storming of the fort. It came from Abd-el-Kader, an old foe, and leader of the Ouled Touameur clan of the prestigious Ouled Allouch tribe of the Berazga division of the Chaambra nomad confederation. Obviously, Elmer Allen has been captured. Whether or not he is still alive, we can’t know. However, it’s most likely that he still is. He is of more value to Abd-el-Kader alive than dead. Being able to display as a prisoner, probably in chains, one of the closest followers of El Hassan is an emblem in his turban. Since then, there have been new developments.” He turned to his Vizier of Education. “Jimmy, give us the word on the Mahdi.”
Jimmy Peters thought for a moment, then began slowly, “It’s a Moslem religious tradition something like that of the coming of the Messiah in the Jewish faith. Supposedly, Mohammed declared that one of his descendants would come and fill the earth with equity and justice and would bear the name of al-mahdi. Some Moslems claim that he has already appeared, in the same manner that the Christians claim that Jesus was the Hebrew mes-siah, while the Jews deny it. Over the centuries, various leaders have appeared on the Islam scene and claimed to be the mahdi. The most recent, Mohammed Ahmes, a Sudanese, in a period of less than two years, conquered an empire larger than Texas, Alaska and New Mexico combined. It was his forces who defeated the British-Egyptian army of ‘Chinese’ Gordon and captured Khartoum. It was several years after his death that the British finally defeated his followers.”
Kenny said impatiently, “What the hell’s all this got to do with it? What’s it got to do with the pickle Elmer’s in?”
Homer Crawford looked over at him. “Abd-el-Kader has proclaimed himself the mahdi and calls for ajedah, holy war, against El Hassan. If he’s allowed to continue, half the marabouts in the Moslem countries bordering the Mediterranean will rally to him. They know goddamned well that El Hassan’s movement will ultimately be their kiss of death. They live in the Middle Ages. Everything that needs to be known is in the Q’ran, no other books are needed.”
Bey had been thinking about it. He said musingly, “We’ve got to strike fast, before this spreads. He’s got to be squashed before he rallies too many followers. We already know his message. He’s in favor of returning to the good old days. The days of the razzia, the days of looting the sedentary centers, the oases. The days when the Chaambra nomads controlled most of northwest Africa.”
Homer said, “What did you have in mind, Bey?”
“Strike fast. We’ll send a flying column up into Chaambra country. A thousand of our best men. We’ll hit him before he can get organized.”
Homer grunted sour humor of rejection. “Some field marshal you turned out to be. Where’s your sense of logistics, Bey? We’ll push a thousand men, with their equipment across the desert? How? We haven’t got enough motorized transport, to begin with, and even if we had, there is no direct route from Tamanrasset to northwestern Algeria and Chaambra country.”
Bey scowled, almost sulkily. His opinions were almost invariably taken when it came to matters military.
Homer went on. “Suppose the Arab Union supports Abd-el-Kader and sends out a couple of bombers, surreptitiously, and they spot us on the reg, on the roads where our motorized transport, those that aren’t hover vehicles, must travel. One small fission bomb would finish off the whole so-called flying column. And they could debate in the Reunited Nations forever, and who could prove who dropped an illegal fission bomb in the wastes of the Sahara?”
Bey said grudgingly, “I suppose you’re right, Homer. But what can we do?”
Homer said, “This is a personal thing. Two old foes, Homer Crawford and Abd-el-Kader. Crawford and his team will go alone, in the same hovercraft they formerly utilized when operating for the Reunited Nations African Development Project. It’s built to cross the ergs. We can go directly and comparatively speedily, to the rescue of our colleague. It’ll be dramatic and there’s nothing that appeals to the nomad more. In one blow, we’ll end the mahdi movement and recruit thousands in the doing.”
Kenny Ballalou closed his eyes in pain. “Man, you’ve really gone round the bend.” He added, as an afterthought. “Who all will go along?”
Homer said, “This is a volunteer thing. I’d like to see you, Bey, you Kenny, and Cliff. Cliff wasn’t a member of the original team, but…”
Cliff groaned and said, “I spent a hitch in the army. The one thing the old timers drilled into us was…”
“We know, we know,” Kenny said. “Never volunteer for anything.”
Bey came to his feet and said, “I’ll start equipping the hovercraft. Anything special, Homer?”
Homer said, “Power packs sufficient to fuel us all the way to Chaambra country. We’ll head from here to In Salah, and from there to Adrar and then up to Beni-Abbes. But we’ll circle them all. We won’t stop for provisions, power packs or anything else. We don’t want any news of our coming to get through.”
Kenny got up and stretched and said, “I’ll have to make my farewells to a little ol’ chick from the Tégéhé Mellet tribe. She’s crazy for me.”
“Ha,” Cliff said, standing as well. “She must be crazy. I’ll get my gear. But I don’t see how this government is going to go on without a Vizier of Finance around.”
When the three had left, Homer said, “That reminds me. Jimmy, Isobel, while I’m gone you two are going to be in charge. The story is that El Hassan and his viziers are in seclusion, meditating, working out the problems facing Ifriqiyah. Give the same story to the various delegations that are turning up from the so-called civilized world, and the journalists.”