Sean leaned forward and took over earnestly, “Meg, this El Hassan is a malcontent and an opportunist, no matter what opinions you might have come to to the contrary. He’s upsetting this whole part of the world, which was just beginning to show some signs of progress, what with the oil and mineral developments. I, for one, have no compunction against hiring out as a soldier of fortune to his political enemies.”
Meg made a rude noise. “I wonder if Saidi actually represents political elements, or profit-conscious corporations who don’t like El Hassan’s program. We don’t even know who he represents. We accept his money and embark upon what amounts to an assassination assignment.”
Raul flicked a fingernail along his blonde wisp of French mustache and murmured, “I don’t know about this assassination thing. I strongly suspect that before this is all through, we shall see actual combat. He is too well guarded to expect that ordinary assassination would be practical—that is, if we are expectant of making our, ah, getaway.”
Sean took it up again. “Meg, so far as assassination is concerned, you mentioned Hitler a moment ago. In July of 1944, a group of German generals attempted, and failed, to assassinate him. Don’t you wish they had been successful? Had they been, millions of lives would have been spared. It’s according to who is being assassinated, whether or not the act is despicable.”
She came to her feet and let her eyes go over them, one by one, as she breathed deeply. “I’m confused,” she admitted. “I don’t know what to think.”
Bryan said gently, “Meanwhile, Meg, if you let anything drop about our mission, it will undoubtedly mean the lives of all of us. Men of the El Hassan caliber are noted for their ruthlessness.”
She turned and left the tent. “Les femmes,” Raul Bazaine murmured.
Sean Ryan turned his eyes to Lon Charles and said, “You’re havin’ the run of Tamanrasset. Tomorrow, when you’re in town, hire yourself a camel or horse and take a short trip up the road in the direction of In Salah. Find some sort of a clearing, or area, large enough for our aircraft to land in but small enough that our forces can defend it for a maximum time. It must be close enough to this fort and to Tamanrasset that our long distance rifle grenade launchers will reach to the city and fort. Is that possible?”
Lon twisted his face and said, “It should be. Miss Cunningham said I had the freedom of Tamanrasset though she didn’t say anything about taking a horse out into the desert. I don’t know how to ride a camel and don’t expect to start learning now. I don’t think I oughta have any trouble.”
Bryan said glumly, “Now we have to keep our fingers crossed that they’ll return our weapons when they kick us out.”
XVIII
EL HASSAN
When El Hassan’s hoverlorry entered the main gate of Fort Laperrine, it was unescorted. Homer Crawford and his companions had met a gown of Guémama’s camel corps several kilometers out, but had waved off the desire to accompany their ultimate leader and his viziers.
The vehicle came to a temporary halt immediately inside the entry and the four occupants in the front seat looked out over the parade ground. Less than precision drill was going on. What were obviously older veterans of desert warfare were putting younger tribesmen through European type evolutions.
Bey, who was bandaged at the waist but otherwise didn’t look the less for wear, said, “Who in the hell are they?” indicating with a thumb.
They were some twenty white men, dressed in a wide variety of desert uniforms and sitting on the ground before three vehicles and four tents, over against the non-com quarters. On the faces of some were expressions of undisguised contempt of the efforts of the desert men.
“Damned if I know,” Homer said. “Let’s see what’s going on.” He drove the hoverlorry toward the administration building.
Isobel came running out anxiously, to be followed at slower pace by Jimmy Peters.
The four emerged from the lorry and grinned at the girl.
She said, looking as though she didn’t know which one of them to grab and hug first, “You’re all right?” Her eyes went to Bey and they were wide. “You’ve been wounded. What happened?”
“I should have zigged instead,” he told her. “I’m all right.”
She grabbed Homer’s arms. “Elmer?”
He put his arms around her and bussed her firmly. “He’s in the back of the truck. Mostly exhaustion.”
Cliff said, “He’s eating us out of house and home. Where’s the Doc? Hey, how about me? I’ve known you longer than Homer has.”
Jimmy Peters came up with his shy, slow smile. “It’s about time you blokes got back. This place has become a bedlam. Elmer’s all right, what?”
Isobel said hurriedly, “I’ll get Doctor Smythe and a couple of nurses,” and started to turn.
But, from the back of the hoverlorry, Elmer said, “The hell with the bloody nurses—unless they’re good looking. I can walk.”
He had managed to get out of the desert vehicle from the rear. He looked emaciated, the appearance enhanced by the clothes Homer and the others had brought for him. They were several sizes too large and he looked like a black scarecrow.
They hurried toward him, Isobel and Jimmy Peters muttering soothing inanities.
Bey said, “Hey, here I am. I feel worse than he does. All’s wrong with him is he’s hungry and sleepy.”
They ignored him and shortly the whole group moved toward the administration building, Elmer being aided by Jimmy and Isobel.
Elmer grinned at her. “You look even better than I remembered, old girl. You haven’t got a friend have you?”
“Yes,” she said, “You. Oh, Elmer, you’re so thin!”
He grinned again, even as he stumbled along. He still didn’t have complete control of his legs, which had been cramped so long. He said mockingly, “Oh, indeed? I saw the way you leeched onto Homer.”
They disappeared into the administration building.
Across the square, in the door that led into the non-commissioned officer’ billets, Captain Bazaine watched. When they were gone, he turned and sauntered into the non-com mess where Sean Ryan and Bryan O’Casey were slumped in ennui over age-old copies of European magazines, largely French and German.
They looked up at his entry and Sean said, “Something new?”
“I think that El Hassan has appeared on the scene. It’s the same hoverlorry we passed on the other side of In Salah. There’s five of them now. Two seem wounded.”
The other two sat erect.
Sean’s eyes went right and then left as he considered it. He said finally, “We can’t push them. Tomorrow, we’ll check to find if it’s really El Hassan. What does he look like?”
Raul sank down into a chair. “I couldn’t tell which is which. They don’t act as though any single one is especially the leader. Two of them are big brutes. All blacks, of course.” There was the faintest of sneers on his Gallic face.
Bryan said, “Let’s find Lon and see if he located that spot north of town where we’ll make our stand until the plane comes.”
Raul nodded and said, “If there’s five of them now, most likely they rescued that follower who’d been captured up north. In which case, El Hassan’s stock in this part of the world will have zoomed. We had better get about our business before this whole area, including Adrar, with our helio-jet, goes over to him.”
Sean said, “Yes, damn it. But I’m thinking that we have to make doubly sure it’s really El Hassan, before we can move.”
In the morning, Sean Ryan strolled over to the administration building and to Isobel Cunningham’s office. He had a minimum of difficulty getting in to see her in spite of the fact that her reception room was packed with both European-suited whites, and native garbed tribesmen.