I told him the whole thing then, sitting there by the fire, sipping my drink, my body gradually relaxing with the warmth.
When I had finished he sat quite silent for a long time. He was frowning and his fingers were beating a tattoo on the desk where he was seated. At length he said to me, ‘Do you know this country? Do you understand the people here?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘This is the first time I have been south of the Atlas.’
He clicked his tongue. ‘That is a pity, for I also do not know it. This is a military area and there is seldom any reason for us to come down here.’ He scratched his thinning hair. ‘It is a pity because it would be helpful if we had some idea what they would do. It is an extraordinary situation, quite extraordinary.’ He was using the word in its literal sense. ‘First there is the failure of the dates, then the piste is cut so that the food trucks, which are delayed anyway, cannot get through. Then they are frightened by the change in the colour of the water that feeds their palmerie and the wells. Their Caid is dead. And now this. It is too much — too much for any primitive and warlike people.’ He looked across at me. ‘I agree with you, monsieur. There is likely to be trouble.’ He paused and scratched his head again. ‘The question is — what do we do? Soon they will know that you are here.’
‘If we could get to Agdz,’ Ed said.
But Bilvidic shook his head. ‘Unfortunately, the only vehicle here has something the matter with it. And you cannot go on foot. It is a long way. Also it is too dangerous.’ He pulled a pack of American cigarettes out of the pocket of his jacket which he was wearing over his vest. He made a spill from a strip of paper and lit it from the fire. Then he started pacing up and down, taking quick, nervous puffs at the cigarette.
I leaned back and closed my eyes. The drink and the warmth of the fire were enveloping me with sleep. I seemed to slide away into darkness, engulfed by a beautiful lethargy.
I awoke to the sound of voices raised in argument. I opened my eyes and blinked in the brilliance of the light. It was morning and the room was full of sunshine. Jan lay asleep in the chair opposite me. The grate was piled white with wood ash. A single log was still burning, its flames obliterated by the brightness of the sunshine. ‘I have sent a runner to Agdz by mule,’ Bilvidic was saying. ‘What else can I do?’
‘But it’ll take him all day to get there,’ Ed cried.
‘Perhaps.’ Bilvidic shrugged his shoulders. ‘But there is a chance that he will find transport up there where they are repairing the piste. Also I have told him to get the road gang to try and repair the telephone.’
‘Yeah, but that’ll take hours. Meantime anything can happen.’
‘What’s the trouble?’
Ed swung round. ‘Take a look out of the window.’
I crossed the room and peered out. The open space between the forts was full of people. They stood or sat in little isolated groups, silently watching the house as though waiting for something to happen. And from the direction of Foum-Skhira came the sound of tam-tams beating. It was a sound without rhythm, an insistent, urgent tattoo like drums beating to quarters. I glanced at my watch. It was just after nine. ‘You should have woken me earlier,’ I said.
‘There was nothing you could do,’ Bilvidic declared quietly. ‘There is nothing any of us can do now except wait here and hope they do not attack.’
‘Attack?’ I stared at him, my brain still dulled with sleep. ‘Do you mean you think they may attack the Post?’
He nodded his head slowly. ‘Yes. I have just had a visit from Hassan — that is the Caid’s second son, the man who is now, in fact, the Caid. He came at some risk to himself to warn us that he had not the influence to hold his people back and that we were in imminent danger.’
‘They know we’re here at the Post then?’
He nodded. ‘I cannot understand how they know, but they do.’ He swung round at the sound of the front door opening. It was Georges. He carried a rifle slung over his shoulder. ‘You found the armoury then?’ Bilvidic said.
But Georges shook his head. He had searched the Bureau building, but he had failed to find it. The rifle he had found in the orderly’s room, but there had been no ammunition with it. Bilvidic went through into the main room where Julie and Karen were peacefully asleep in easy-chairs with blankets wrapped round them. He pulled open the door leading to the back premises and shouted, ‘Mohammed! Mohammed!’ But there was no answer. We searched the whole place, but there was no sign of him.
‘Looks like he’s cleared out while the going was good,’ Ed said. ‘Isn’t there somebody else around here to tell us where they keep their weapons?’
‘Only the orderly,’ Bilvidic said. ‘And that is the man I sent to Agdz.’
‘But there is a Military Post,’ I said. ‘There must be some troops here.’
Bilvidic shook his head. ‘Not at the Post. Farther south there is the Camel Patrol. But here Legard has only two orderlies and the other is away.’
‘And you didn’t ask the man you sent to Agdz where the armoury was?’
‘Why should I? I had no reason then to believe that we should be attacked.’
‘But we told you there’d be trouble. We told you that a party had been sent out into the mountains — ‘
‘Yes, yes, but that does not mean they will attack a French Post. It is many years now since a Post was attacked.’
‘Monsieur. Here. Quick!’ It was Georges and his voice was urgent. He was standing by the front door, his head on one side. ‘Listen! Do you hear?’ He turned the key in the lock and pulled open the door. We heard it then. It was a sound like the sea breaking along the sands, the murmur of many voices and the tramp of many feet. The tattoo of the tam-tams had ceased and in its place was the single, menacing beat of a drum giving the time to an army on the march. And then we saw them, coming up out of the palmerie just to the left of the souk. They were a great mob of people and they flowed over the sand towards the house like a tide. There must have been a thousand or more, including the children running on the outskirts. I felt my heart hammering and my mouth was dry. If they attack in a body … I glanced at Julie, still sleeping peacefully in her chair.
‘What are we going to do?’ It was Jan. He had come through from the study and was standing, looking first at his wife and then through the open door at the advancing mob. ‘We must do something.’ He rubbed his eyes, half-dazed with sleep, blinking owlishly. ‘Shall I wake them?’ He was looking at the girls again.
‘Let them sleep on,’ I said. ‘There’s no point in their knowing about this till they have to.’ I turned to Bilvidic. ‘Exactly what arms have we got?’ I asked.
He put his hand into his pocket and brought out a French service pistol which he tossed across to me. ‘That is Legard’s. We have plenty of rounds for that. Also Georges and I have each an automatic with a full magazine and one spare.’
‘And I have my Luger,’ Ed said.
Four pistols! I stared out of the door at the approaching mob. It wasn’t much if they really meant business. ‘We ought to move to the fort,’ Ed said.
But Bilvidic shook his head. ‘It is too big. We could never hold it.’
‘But we could hold one of the towers.’
‘Yes, but we must be near the telephone. That is essential.’
‘The Bureau then,’ I suggested.
But again he shook his head. ‘They could come at us across the roof from the fort. Here we have an all round field of fire. It is not good, but it is the best we can do. Close the door now, Georges.’
The door slammed to. The key grated in the lock. We could no longer hear the angry sound of the mob. Only the beat of the drum penetrated the room. ‘I think,’ Bilvidic said to me, ‘that you should get all your people upstairs.’ He was staring at the advancing mob, searching it with his eyes narrowed over their little pouches. ‘I do not think they have a leader. Without a leader they will not attack unless they are given cause. They have only been told that you are here. They do not know. And if they do not see you, then they will begin to doubt and lose their nerve. Get your people upstairs.’ His voice was more urgent now. ‘Vite! Hurry! And when you are up there, do not show yourselves at the windows.’