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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/30639-8.txt b/30639-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1303bfd --- /dev/null +++ b/30639-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6131 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Border, Breed Nor Birth, by Dallas McCord Reynolds + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Border, Breed Nor Birth + +Author: Dallas McCord Reynolds + +Illustrator: Schoenherr + +Release Date: December 9, 2009 [EBook #30639] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BORDER, BREED NOR BIRTH *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction July 1962. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. + + + + Border, Breed nor Birth + + + + Part 1 of Two. Kipling said those things didn't count when + two strong men stood face to face. But ... do they count + when two strong ideologies stand face to face...? + + + + by Mack Reynolds + + + Illustrated by Schoenherr + + * * * * * + + + + +I + + +El Hassan, would-be tyrant of all North Africa, was on the run. + +His followers at this point numbered six, one of whom was a wisp of a +twenty-four year old girl. Arrayed against him and his dream, he knew, +was the combined power of the world in the form of the Reunited +Nations, and, in addition, such individual powers as the United States +of the Americas, the Soviet Complex, Common Europe, the French +Community, the British Commonwealth and the Arab Union, working both +together and unilaterally. + +Immediate survival depended upon getting into the Great Erg of the +Sahara where even the greatest powers the world had ever developed +would have their work cut out locating El Hassan and his people. + + * * * * * + +Bey-ag-Akhamouk who was riding next to Elmer Allen in the lead air +cushion hover-lorry, held a hand high. Both of the solar powered +desert vehicles ground to a halt. + +Homer Crawford vaulted out of the seat of the second lorry before it +had settled to the sand. "What's up, Bey?" he called. + +Bey pointed to the south and west. They were in the vicinity of +Tessalit, in what was once known as French Sudan, and immediately to +the south of Algeria. They were deliberately avoiding what little +existed in this area in the way of trails, the Tanezrouft route which +crossed the Sahara from Colomb-Béchar to Gao, on the Niger, was some +fifty miles to the west. + +Homer Crawford stared up into the sky in the direction Bey pointed and +his face went wan. + +The others were piling out of the vehicles. + +"What is it?" Isobel Cunningham said, squinting and trying to catch +what the others had already spotted. + +"Aircraft," Bey growled. "A rocket-plane." + +"Which means the military in this part of the world," Homer said. + +The rest of them looked to him for instructions, but Bey suddenly took +over. He said to Homer, "You better get on over beneath that +outcropping of rock. The rest of us will handle this." + +Homer looked at him. + +Bey said, flatly, "If one of the rest of us gets it, or even if all of +us do, the El Hassan movement goes on. But if something happens to +you, the movement dies. We've already taken our stand and too much is +at stake to risk your life." + +Homer Crawford opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. He reached +inside the solar-powered lorry and fetched forth a Tommy-Noiseless and +started for the rock outcropping at a trot. Having made his decision, +he wasn't going to cramp Bey-ag-Akhamouk's style with needless +palaver. + +Isobel Cunningham, Cliff Jackson, Elmer Allen and Kenny Ballalou +gathered around the tall, American educated Tuareg. + +"What's the plan?" Elmer said. Either he or Kenny Ballalou could have +taken over as competently, but they were as capable of taking orders +as giving them, a desirable trait in fighting men. + +Bey was still staring at the oncoming speck. He growled, "We can't +even hope he hasn't seen the pillars of sand and dust these vehicles +throw up. He's spotted us all right. And we've got to figure he's +looking for us, even though we can hope he's not." + +The side of his mouth began to tic, characteristically. "He'll make +three passes. The first one high, as an initial check. The second time +he'll come in low just to make sure. The third pass and he'll clobber +us." + +The aircraft was coming on, high but nearer now. + +"So," Elmer said reasonably, "we either get him the second pass he +makes, or we've had it." The young Jamaican's lips were thinned back +over his excellent teeth, as always when he went into combat. + +"That's it," Bey agreed. "Kenny, you and Cliff get the flac rifle, and +have it handy in the back of the second truck. Be sure he doesn't see +it on this first pass. Elmer, get on the radio and check anything he +sends." + +Kenny Ballalou and the hulking Cliff Jackson ran to carry out orders. + +Isobel said, "Got an extra gun for me?" + +Bey scowled at her. "You better get over there with Homer where it's +safer." + +She said evenly, "I've always considered myself a pacifist, but when +somebody starts shooting at me, I forget about it and am inclined to +shoot back." + +"I haven't got time to argue with you," Bey said. "There aren't any +extra guns except handguns and they'd be useless." As he spoke, he +pulled his own Tommy-Noiseless from its scabbard on the front door of +the air cushion lorry, and checked its clip of two hundred .10 caliber +ultra-high velocity rounds. He flicked the selector to the explosive +side of the clip. + + * * * * * + +The plane was roaring in on what would be its first pass, if Bey had +guessed correctly. If he had guessed incorrectly, this might be the +end. A charge of napalm would fry everything for a quarter of a mile +around, or the craft might even be equipped with a mini-fission bomb. +In this area a minor nuclear explosion would probably go undetected. + +Bey yelled, "Don't anybody even try to fire at him at this range. +He'll be back. It takes half the sky to turn around in with that +crate, but he'll be back, lower next time." + +Cliff Jackson said cheerlessly, "Maybe he's just looking for us. He +won't necessarily take a crack at us." + +Bey grunted. "Elmer?" + +"Nothing on the radio," Elmer said. "If he was just scouting us out, +he'd report to his base. But if his orders are to clobber us, then he +wouldn't put it on the air." + +The plane was turning in the sky, coming back. + +Cliff argued, "Well, we can't fire unless we know if he's just hunting +us out, or trying to do us in." + +Elmer said patiently, "For just finding us, that first pass would be +all he needed. He could radio back that he'd found us. But if he comes +in again, he's looking for trouble." + +"Here he comes!" Bey yelled. "Kenny-Cliff ... the rifle!" + +Isobel suddenly dashed out into the sands a dozen yards or so from the +vehicles and began running around and around in a circle as though +demented. + +Bey stared at her. "Get back here," he roared. "Under one of the +trucks!" + +She ignored him. + +The rocket-plane was coming in, low and obviously as slow as the pilot +could retard its speed. + +The flac rifle began jumping and tracers reached out from +it--inaccurately. The Tommy-Noiseless automatics in the hands of Bey +and Elmer Allen gave their silenced _flic flic flic_ sounds, equally +ineffective. + +On the ultra-stubby wings of the fast moving aircraft, a row of +brilliant cherries flickered and a row of explosive shells plowed +across the desert, digging twin ditches, miraculously going between +the air cushion lorries but missing both. It was upon them, over and +gone, before the men on the ground could turn to fire after. + +Elmer Allen muttered an obscenity under his breath. + +Cliff Jackson looked around in desperation. "What can we do now? He +won't come close enough for us to even fire at him, next time." + +Bey said nothing. Isobel had collapsed into the sand. Elmer Allen +looked over at her. "Nice try, Isobel," he said. "I think he came in +lower and slower than he would have otherwise--trying to see what the +devil it was you were doing." + +She shrugged, hopelessly. + +"Hey!" Kenny Ballalou pointed. + +The rocketcraft was wobbling, shuddering, in the sky. Suddenly it +burst into a black cloud of fire and smoke and explosion. + +At the same moment, Homer Crawford got up from the sand dune behind +which he'd stationed himself and plowed awkwardly through the sand +toward them. + +Bey glared at him. + +Homer shrugged and said, "I checked the way he came in the first time +and figured he'd repeat the run. Then I got behind that dune there and +faced in the other direction and started firing where I _thought_ he'd +be, a few seconds before he came over. He evidently ran right into +it." + +Bey said indignantly, "Look, wise guy, you're no longer the leader of +a five-man Reunited Nations African Development Project team. Then, +you were expendable. Now, you're El Hassan. You give the orders. Other +people are expendable." + +Homer Crawford grinned at him, somewhat ruefully and held up his hands +as though in supplication. "Listen to the man, is that any way to talk +to El Hassan?" + +Elmer Allen said worriedly, "He's right, though, Homer. You shouldn't +take chances." + +Homer Crawford went serious. "Actually, none of us should, if we can +avoid it. In a way, El Hassan isn't one person. It's this team here, +and Jake Armstrong, who by this time I hope is on his way to the +States." + +Bey was shaking his head in stubborn determination. "No," he said. +"I'm not sure that you comprehend this yourself, Homer, but you're +Number One. You're the symbol, the hero these people are going to +follow if we put this thing over. They couldn't understand a sextet +leadership. They want a leader, someone to dominate and tell them what +to do. A team you need, admittedly, but not so much as the team needs +you. Remember Alexander? He had a team starting off with Aristotle for +a brain-trust, and Parmenion, one of the greatest generals of all time +for his right-hand man. Then he had a group of field men such as +Ptolemy, Antipater, Antigonus and Seleucus--not to be rivaled until +Napoleon built his team, two thousand years later. And what happened +to this super-team when Alexander died?" + +Homer looked at him thoughtfully. + +Bey wound it up doggedly. "You're our Alexander. Our Caesar. Our +Napoleon. So don't go getting yourself killed, damn it. Excuse me, +Isobel." + +Isobel grinned her pixielike grin. "I agree," she said. "Dammit." + +Homer said, "I'm not sure I go all along with you or not. We'll think +about it." His voice took a sharper note. "Let's go over and see if +there's enough left in that wreckage to give us an idea of who the +pilot represented. I can't believe it was a Reunited Nations man, and +I'd like to know who, of our potential enemies, dislikes the idea of +El Hassan so much that they figure we should all be bumped off before +we even get under way." + + * * * * * + +It had begun--if there is ever a beginning--in Dakar. In the offices +of Sven Zetterberg the Swedish head of the Sahara Division of the +African Development Project of the Reunited Nations. + +Homer Crawford, head of a five-man trouble-shooting team, had reported +for orders. In one hand he held them, when he was ushered into the +other's presence. + +Zetterberg shook hands abruptly, said, "Sit down, Dr. Crawford." + +Homer Crawford looked at the secretary who had ushered him in. + +Zetterberg said, scowling, "What's the matter?" + +"I think I have something to be discussed privately." + +The secretary shrugged and turned and left. + +Zetterberg, still scowling, resumed his own place behind the desk and +said, "Claud Hansen is a trusted Reunited Nations man. What could +possibly be so secret...?" + +Homer indicated the orders he held. "This assignment. It takes some +consideration." + +Sven Zetterberg was not a patient man. He said, in irritation, "It +should be perfectly clear. This El Hassan we've been hearing so much +about. This mystery man come out of the desert attempting to unify +all North America. We want to talk to him." + +"Why?" Crawford said. + +"Confound it," Zetterberg snapped. "I thought we'd gone into this +yesterday. In spite of the complaints that come into this office in +regard to your cavalier tactics in carrying out your assignments, you +and your team are our most competent operatives. So we've given you +the assignment of finding El Hassan." + +"I mean, why do you want to talk to him?" + +The Swede glared at him for a moment, as though the American was being +deliberately dense. "Dr. Crawford," he said, "when the African +Development Project was first begun we had high hopes. Seemingly all +Reunited Nations members were being motivated by high humanitarian +reasons. Our task was to bring all Africa to a level of progress +comparable to the advanced nations. It was more than a duty, it was a +crying need, a demand. Africa is and has been throughout history a +_have-not_ continent. While Europe, the Americas, Australia and now +even Asia, industrialized and largely conquered man's old +socio-economic problems, Africa lagged behind. The reasons were +manifold, colonialism, lingering tribal society ... various others. +Now that very lagging has become a potential explosive situation. With +the coming of antibiotics and other break-throughs in medicine, the +African population is growing with an all but geometric progression. +So fast is it growing, that what advances were being made did less +than keep up the level of per capita gross product. It was bad enough +to have a per capita gross product averaging less than a hundred +dollars a year, but it actually sank below that point." + +Homer Crawford was nodding. + +Zetterberg continued the basic lecture with which he knew the other +was already completely familiar. "So the Reunited Nations took on the +task of advancing as rapidly as possible the African economy and all +the things that must be done before an economy _can_ be advanced. It +was self-preservation, I suppose. _Have-not_ nations, not to speak of +_have-not_ races and _have-not_ continents, have a tendency eventually +to explode upon their wealthier neighbors." + +The Swede pressed his lips together before continuing. "Unfortunately, +the Reunited Nations as the United Nations and the League of Nations +before it, is composed of members each with its own irons in the fire. +Each with its own plans and schemes." His voice was bitter now. "The +Arab Union with its desire to unite all Islam into one. The Soviet +Complex with its ultimate dream of a soviet world. The capitalistic +economies of the British Commonwealth, Common Europe, and your United +States of the Americas, with their hunger for, positive need for, +sources of raw materials and markets for their manufactured products. +All, though playing lip service to the African Development Project, +have still their own ambitions." + +Sven Zetterberg waggled a finger at Homer Crawford. "I do not charge +that your United States is attempting to take over Africa, or even any +section of it, in the old colonialistic sense. Even England and France +have discovered that it is much simpler to dominate economically than +to go through all the expense and effort of governing another people. +That is the basic reason they gave up their empires. No, your United +States would love to so dominate Africa that her products, her +entrepreneurs, would flood the continent to the virtual exclusion of +such economic competitors as Common Europe. The Commonwealth feels the +same, so does the French Community. The Soviets and Arabs have +different motivations, but they, too, wish to take over. The +result...." The Swede tossed up his hands in a gesture more Gallic +than Scandinavian. + + * * * * * + +"What has all this got to do with El Hassan?" Homer Crawford asked +softly. + +The Swede leaned forward. "If we more devoted adherents of the +Reunited Nations are ever to see our hopes come true, Africa must be +united and made strong. And this must be done through the efforts of +_Africans_ not Russians, British, French, Arabs ... nor even +Scandinavians. Socio-economic changes should not, possibly cannot, be +inflicted upon a people from without. Look at the mess the Russians +made in such countries as Hungary, or the Americans in such as South +Korea." + +"The people themselves must have the dream," Crawford said softly. + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"Nothing. Go on." + +Zetterberg said, "On the surface, great progress seems to be +continuing. Afforestation of the Sahara, the solar pumps creating new +oases, the water purification plants on the Atlantic and +Mediterranean, pushing back the desert, the oil fields, the mines, the +roads, the damming of the Niger. But already cracks can be seen. A +week or so ago, a team of Cubans, supposedly, at least, in the Sudan +to improve sugar refining methods, were machine-gunned to death. By +whom? By the Sudanese? Unlikely. No, this Cuban massacre was one of +many recent signs of conflict between the great powers in their +efforts to dominate. Our problem, of course, deals only with North +Africa, but I have heard rumors in Geneva that much the same situation +is developing in the south as well." + +"At any rate, Dr. Crawford, when the rumors of El Hassan began to come +into this office they brought with them a breath of hope. From all we +have heard, he teaches our basic program--a breaking down of old +tribal society, education, economic progress, Pan-African unity. Dr. +Crawford, no one with whom this office is connected seems ever to have +seen this El Hassan but we are most anxious to talk to him. Perhaps +this is the man behind whom we can throw our support. Your task is to +find him." + +Homer Crawford raked the fingers of his right hand back over his +short wiry hair, and grimaced. He said, "It won't be necessary." + +[Illustration] + +"I beg your pardon, Doctor?" + +Crawford said, "It won't be necessary to go looking for El Hassan." + +The Swede scowled his irritation at the other. "See here...." + +Crawford said, "I'm El Hassan." + +Sven Zetterberg stared at him, uncomprehending. + +Homer Crawford said, "I suppose it's your turn to listen and for me +to do the talking." He shifted in his chair, uncomfortably. "Dr. +Zetterberg, even before the Reunited Nations evolved the idea of the +African Development Project, it became obvious that the field work was +going to have to be in the hands of Negroes. The reason is doublefold. +First, the African doesn't trust the white man, for good reason. +Second, the white man is a citizen of his own country, first of all, +and finds it difficult not to have motives connected with his own race +and nation. But the African Negro, too, has his tribal and sometimes +national affiliations and cannot be trusted not to be prejudiced in +their favor. The answer? The educated American Negro, such as myself." + +"I haven't the slightest idea from whence came my ancestors, from what +part of Africa, what tribe, what nation. But I am a Negro and ... +well, have the dream of bettering my race. I have no irons in the +fire, beyond altruistic ones. Of course, when I say American Negroes I +don't exclude Canadian ones, or those of Latin America or the +Caribbean. It is simply that there are greater numbers of educated +American Negroes than you find elsewhere." + +Zetterberg said impatiently, "Please, Dr. Crawford. Come to the point. +That ridiculous statement you made about El Hassan." + +"Of course, I am merely giving background. Most of we field workers, +not only the African Development teams, but such organizations as the +Africa for Africans Association and the representatives of the African +Department of the British Commonwealth, and of the French Community's +African Affairs sector, are composed of Negroes." + +Zetterberg was nodding. "All right, I know." + +Homer Crawford said, "The teams of all these organizations do their +best to spur African progress, in our case, in North Africa, +especially the area between the Niger and the Mediterranean. Often we +disguise ourselves as natives since in that manner we are more quickly +trusted. We wear the clothes, speak the local language or lingua +franca." + +The American hesitated a moment, then plunged in. "Dr. Zetterberg, the +African is still a primitive but newly beginning to move out of a +tradition-ritual-taboo tribal society. He seeks a hero to follow, a +man of towering prestige who knows the answers to all questions. We +may not _like_ this fact, we with our traditions of democracy, but it +is so. The African is simply not yet at that stage of society where +political democracy is applicable." + +"My team does most of its work posing as Enaden--low caste itinerant +smiths of the Sahara. As such we can go any place and are everywhere +accepted, a necessary sector of the Saharan economy. As such, we +continually spread the ... ah, propaganda of the Reunited Nations--the +need for education, the need for taking jobs on the new projects, the +need for casting aside old institutions and embracing the new. Early +in the game we found our words had little weight coming from simple +Enaden smiths so we ... well, _invented_ this mysterious El Hassan, +and everything we said we attributed to him." + +"News spreads fast in the desert, astonishingly fast. El Hassan +started with us but soon other teams, hearing about him and realizing +that his message was the same as that they were trying to propagate, +did the same thing. That is, attributed the messages they had to +spread to El Hassan. It was amusing when a group of us got together +last week in Timbuktu, to find that we'd all taken to kowtowing to +this mythical desert hero who planned to unite all North Africa." + +The Swede was staring at him unbelievingly. "But, a bit earlier you +said you were El Hassan." + +Homer Crawford looked into his chief's face and nodded seriously. +"I've been conferring with various other field workers, both Reunited +Nations and otherwise. The situation calls for a real El Hassan. If we +don't provide him, someone else will. I propose to take over the +position." + +Sven Zetterberg's face was suddenly cold. "And why, Dr. Crawford, do +you think you are more qualified than others?" + +The American Negro could hardly fail to note the other's disapproval. +He said evenly, but definitely, "Through experience. Through +education. Through ... through having the dream, Dr. Zetterberg." + +"The Reunited Nations cannot support such a project, Dr. Crawford. I +absolutely forbid you to consider it." + +"Forbid me?" + + * * * * * + +It was as though a strange something entered the atmosphere of the +room, almost as though a new _presence_ was there. And almost, it +seemed to Sven Zetterberg, that the already tall, solidly built man +across from him grew physically as his voice seemed to swell, to reach +out, to dominate. There was a new, and all but unbelievable Homer +Crawford here. + +The Swedish official regathered his forces. This was ridiculous. He +said again, "I forbid you to...." the sentence dribbled away under the +cold disdain in the air now. + +Homer Crawford said flatly, "You don't seem to understand, Zetterberg. +The Reunited Nations has no control over El Hassan. Homer Crawford, as +of this meeting, has resigned his post with the African Development +Project. And El Hassan has begun his task of uniting all North +Africa." + +Sven Zetterberg, shaken by this new and unsuspected force the other +seemed to be able to bring to his command, fought back. "It will be +simple to discredit you, to let it be known that you are no more than +an ambitious American out to seize power illegally." + +Crawford's scorn held an element of amusement. "Try it. I suspect your +attempts to discredit El Hassan will prove unsuccessful. He has +already been rumored to be everything from an Ethiopian to the Second +Coming of the Messiah. Your attempt to brand him an American +adventurer will be swallowed up in the flood of other rumor." + +The Swede was still shaken by the strange manner in which his once +subordinate had suddenly dominated him. Sven Zetterberg was not a man +to be dominated, to be made unsure. + +Time folded back on itself and for a moment he was again a lad and on +vacation with his father in Bavaria. They were having lunch in the +famed Hofbraühaus, largest of the Munich beercellars, and even a +ten-year-old could sense an anticipation in the air, particularly +among the large number of brownshirted men who had gathered to one +side of the ground level of the beer hall. His father was telling Sven +of the history of the medieval building when a silence fell. Into the +beer hall had come a pasty faced, trenchcoat garbed little man, his +face set in stern lines but insufficiently to offset the ludicrous +mustache. He was accompanied by an elderly soldier in the uniform of a +Field Marshal, by a large tub of a man whose face beamed--but +evilly--and by a pinch faced cripple. All were men of command, all +except the pasty faced one, to whom they seemingly and surprisingly, +deferred. And then he stood on a heavy chair and spoke. And then his +_power_ reached out and grasped all within reach of his shrill voice. +Grasped them and compelled them and they became a shouting, red faced, +arm brandishing mob, demanding to be led to glory. And Sven's father +had bustled the shocked boy from the building. + +It came back to him now, clearly and forcefully, and he realized that +whatever it was with which the Beast of Berchtesgaden had enchanted +his people, that power was on call in Homer Crawford. Whether he used +it for good or evil, that enchanting power was on call. And again Sven +Zetterberg was shaken. + +Homer Crawford was on his feet, preparatory to leaving. + +The Swede simply _had_ to reassert himself. "Dr. Crawford, the +Reunited Nations is not without resources. You'll be arrested before +you leave Dakar." + +An element of the tenseness left the air when Crawford smiled and +said, "Doctor, for several years now I have been playing hide and seek +in the Sahara, doing your work. You mentioned earlier that my team is +the most experienced and capable. Just whom are you going to send to +pick me up? Members of some of the other teams? Old friends and +comrades in arms. Many of whom owe their lives to my team when all +bets were down. Please do send them, Doctor, I am going to need +recruits." + +He swung and left the office and even as he went could hear the angry +Reunited Nations chief blasting into an interoffice communicator. He +decided he'd better see if there wasn't a back door or window through +which to leave the building. He'd have to phone Bey, Isobel and the +others and get together for a meeting to plan developments. El Hassan +was getting off to a fast start, already he was on the lam. + + * * * * * + +Homer Crawford played it safe. From the nearest public phone he called +Isobel Cunningham at the Hotel Juan-le-Pin. No matter how fast Sven +Zetterberg swung into action, it would take his operatives some time +to connect Isobel with Homer and his team. As an employee of the +Africa for Africans Association, she would ordinarily come in little +contact with the Reunited Nations teams. + +He said, "Isobel? Homer here. Can you talk?" + +She said, "Cliff and Jake are here." + +He said, "Have you sounded them out? How do they feel about the El +Hassan project?" + +"They're in. At least, Jake is. We're still arguing with Cliff." + +"O.K. Now listen, carefully. Zetterberg turned thumbs down on the +whole deal, for various reasons we can discuss later. In fact, he's +incensed and threatened to take steps to keep us from leaving Dakar." + +Isobel was alerted but she snorted deprecation. "What do you want?" + +"They're probably already looking for me, and in a matter of minutes +will probably try to pick up Bey-ag-Akhamouk, Elmer Allen and Kenny +Ballalou, the other members of my team. Get in touch with them +immediately and tell them to get into native costume and into hiding. +You and Jake--and Cliff--do the same." + +"Right. Where do we meet and when?" + +"In the _souk_, in the food market. There's a native restaurant there, +run by a former Vietnamese. We'll meet there at approximately noon." + +"Right. Anything else?" + +Homer said, "Tell Bey to bring along an extra 9mm Recoilless for me." + +"Yes, El Hassan," she said, her voice expressionless. She didn't waste +time. Homer Crawford heard the phone click as she hung up. + +He was in a branch building of the post and telegraph network on the +Rue des Resistance. Before leaving it, he looked out a window. Half a +block away was the office of the Sahara Division of the African +Development Project. Even as he watched, a dozen men hurried out the +front door, fanned out in all directions. + +Homer grinned sourly. Old Sven was moving fast. + +He shot a quick glance around the lobby of the building. He had to get +going. Zetterberg had started with a dozen men to trail down El +Hassan. He'd probably have a hundred involved before the hour was out. + +A corridor turned off to the right. Homer hurried down it. At each +door he looked inside. To whoever occupied the room he murmured a few +words of apology in Wolof, the Sengalese lingua franca. The fourth +office was empty. + +Homer stood there before it for a long, agonizing moment, waiting for +the right person to pass. Finally, the man he needed came along. +About six feet tall, about a hundred and eighty; dressed in the local +native dress and on the ragged side. + +Homer said to him authoritatively, in the Wolof tongue, "You there, +come in here!" He opened the door, and pointed into the office. + +The other, taken aback, demurred. + +Homer's face and tone went still more commanding. "Step in here, +before I call the police." + +It was all a mistake, of course. The Senegalese made the gesture +equivalent to the European's shrug, and entered the office. + +Homer came in behind him, closed the door. He wasted no time in +preliminaries. Before the native turned, the American's hand lashed +out in a karate blow which stunned the other. Homer Crawford caught +him, even as he fell, and lowered him gently to the floor. + +"Sorry, old boy," he muttered, "but this is probably the most +profitable thing that's happened to you this year." + +He stripped off the other's clothes, as rapidly as he could make his +hands fly. The other was still out and probably would be for another +ten minutes, Crawford estimated. He stripped off his own clothes and +donned the native's. + +Last of all, he took his wallet from his pocket, divided the money it +contained and stuffed a considerable wad of it into the European +clothing he was abandoning. + +"Don't spend all of that in one place," he growled softly. + +Homer dragged the other to a side of the room so that the body could +not be spotted from the entrance. Then he crossed to the door, opened +it and stepped into the corridor beyond. + + * * * * * + +There was no need for sulking. He walked out the front door and headed +away from the dock and administration buildings area and toward the +native section, passing the Reunited Nations building on the way. + +Dakar teems with multitudes of a dozen tribes come in from the jungles +and the bush, the desert and the swamp areas of the sources of the +Niger, to look for work on the new projects, to visit relatives, to +market for the products of civilization--or to gawk. Homer Crawford +disappeared into them. One among many. + +Toward noon, he entered the cleared area which was the restaurant he +had named to Isobel and squatted before the pots to the far end of the +Vietnamese owned eatery, examining them with care. He chose a large +chunk of barbequed goat and was served it with a half pound piece of +unsalted Senegalese bread, torn from a monstrous loaf, and a twisted +piece of newspaper into which had been measured an ounce or so of +coarse salt. He took his meal and went to as secluded a corner as he +could find. + +Homer Crawford chuckled inwardly. That morning he had breakfasted in +the most swank hotel in West Africa. He wished there was some manner +in which he could have invited Sven Zetterberg to dine here with him. +Or, come to think of it, a group of the students he had once taught +sociology at the University of Michigan. Or, possibly, prexy +Wallington, under whom he had worked while taking his doctor's degree. + +Yes, it would have been interesting to have had a luncheon companion. + +A native woman, on the stoutish side but with her hair done up in one +of the fabulously ornate hair styles specialized in by the Senegalese, +and wearing a flowing, shapeless dress of the garish textiles run off +purposely for this market in Japan and Manchester, waddled up to take +a place nearby. She bore a huge skewer of barbequed beef chunks, and a +hunk of bread not unlike Homer's own. + +She grumbled uncomfortably, her back to the American, as she settled +into a position on the floor. And she mumbled as she began chewing at +the meat. + +_No table manners_, Homer Crawford grinned inwardly. He wondered how +long it would take for the others to get here. He wasn't worried about +Isobel, Cliff Jackson and Jake Armstrong. It would take time before +Zetterberg's Reunited Nations cloak and dagger boys got around to +them, but he wasn't sure that she'd be able to locate his own team in +time. That bit he'd given the Swede official about his being so +bully-bully with the other Reunited Nations teams was in the way of +being an exaggeration, with the idea of throwing the other off. +Actually, working in the field on definite assignments, it was seldom +you ran into other African Development Project men. But perhaps it +would tie Zetterberg up, wondering just who he could trust to send +looking for El Hassan. + +He finished off his barbequed goat and the bread and wiped his hands +on his clothes. Nobody here yet. To have an excuse for staying, he +would have to buy a bottle of Gazelle beer, the cheap Senegalese brew +which came in quart bottles and was warm and on the gassy side. + +It was then that the woman in front of him, without turning, said +softly, "El Hassan?" + + +II + +Homer Crawford stared at her, unbelievingly. The woman couldn't +possibly be an emissary from Isobel or from one of his own companions. +This situation demanded the utmost secrecy, they hadn't had time to +screen any outsiders as to trustworthiness. + +She turned. It was Isobel. She chuckled softly, "You should see your +face." + +His eyes went to her figure. + +"Done with mirrors," Isobel said. "Or, at least, with pillows." + +Homer didn't waste time. "Where are the others? They should be here by +now." + +"We figured that the fewer of us seen on the streets, the better. So +they're waiting for you. Since I was the most easily disguised, the +least suspicious looking, I was elected to come get you." + +"Waiting where?" + +She licked the side of her mouth, a disconcerting characteristic of +hers, and looked at him archly. "Those pals of yours have quite a bit +on the ball on their own. They decided that there was a fairly good +chance that Sven Zetterberg wasn't exactly going to fall into your +arms, so they took preliminary measures. Kenny Ballalou rented a small +house, here in the native quarter. We've all rendezvoused there. See, +you aren't the only one on the ball." + +Homer frowned at her, for the moment being in no mood for humor. "What +was the idea of sitting here for the past five minutes without even +speaking? You must have recognized me, knowing what to look for." + +She nodded. "I ... I wasn't sure, Homer, but I had the darnedest +feeling I was being followed." + +His glance was sharp now. First at her, then a quick darting around +the vicinity. "Woman's intuition," he snapped, "or something +substantial?" + +She frowned at him. "I'm not a ninny, Homer." + +His voice softened and he said quickly, "Don't misunderstand, Isobel. +I know that." + +She forgot about her objection to his tone. "Even intuition doesn't +come out of a clear sky. Something sparks it. Subconscious psi, +possibly, but a spark." + +"However?" he prodded. + +"I took all precautions. I can't seem to put my finger on anything." + +"O.K.," he said decisively. "Let's go then." He came to his feet and +reached a hand down for her. + +"Heavens to Betsy," she said, "don't do that." + +"What?" + +"Help a woman in public. You'll look suspicious." She came to her own +feet, without aid. + +_Damn_, he thought. She was right. The last thing he wanted was to +draw attention to a man who acted peculiarly. + + * * * * * + +They made their way out of the food market and into the _souk_ proper, +Homer walking three or four paces ahead of her, Isobel demurely +behind, her eyes on the ground. They passed the native stands and tiny +shops, and the even smaller venders and hucksters with their products +of the mass production industries of East and West, side by side with +the native handicrafts ranging from carved wooden statues, jewelry, +_gris gris_ charms and kambu fetishes, to ceramics whose designs went +back to an age before the Portuguese first cruised off this coast. And +everywhere was color; there are no people on earth more color +conscious than the Senegalese. + +Isobel guided him, her voice quiet and still maintaining its +uncharacteristic demure quality. + +He would never have recognized Isobel, Homer Crawford told himself. +Isobel Cunningham, late of Columbia University where she'd taken her +Master's in anthropology. Isobel Cunningham, whom he had told on their +first meeting that she looked like the former singing star, Lena +Horne. Isobel Cunningham, slight of build, pixie of face, crisply +modern American with her tongue and wit. Was he in love with her? He +didn't know. El Hassan had no time, at present, for those things love +implied. + +She said, "Here," and led the way down a brick paved passage to a +small house, almost a hut, that lay beyond. + +Homer Crawford looked about him critically before entering. He said, +"I suppose this has been scouted out adequately. Where's the back +entrance?" He scowled. "Haven't the boys posted a sentry?" + +A voice next to his ear said pleasantly, "Stick 'em up, stranger. +Where'd you get that zoot suit?" + +He jerked his head about. There was a very small opening in the wooden +wall next to him. It was Kenny Ballalou's voice. + +"Zoot suit, yet!" Homer snorted. "I haven't heard that term since I +was in rompers." + +"You in rompers I'd like to see," Kenny snorted in his turn. "Come on +in, everybody's here." + +The aged, unpainted, warped, wooden house consisted of two rooms, the +one three times as large as the second. The furniture was minimal, but +there was sitting room on chair, stool and bed for the seven of them. + +"Hail, O El Hassan!" Elmer Allen called sourly, as Homer entered. + +"And the hail with you," Homer called back, then, "Oops, sorry, +Isobel." + +Isobel put her hands on her hips, greatly widened by the stuffing +she'd placed beneath her skirts. "Look," she said. "Thus far, the El +Hassan organization, which claims rule of all North Africa, consists +of six men and one dame ... ah, that is, one lady. Just so the lady +won't continually feel that she's being a drag on the conversation, +you are hereby allowed in moments of stress such shocking profanity as +an occasional damn or hell. But only if said lady is also allowed such +expletives during periods of similar stress." + +Everyone laughed, and found chairs. + +"I'm in love with Isobel Cunningham," Bey announced definitely. + +"Second the motion," Elmer said. + +The rest of them called, "Aye." + +"O.K.," Homer Crawford said glumly, "I can see that this is going to +be one tight knit organization. Six men in love with the one dame ... +ah, that is, lady. Kind of a reverse harem deal. Oh, this is going to +lead to great co-operation." + + * * * * * + +They laughed again and then Jake said, "Well, what's the story, Homer? +How does the El Hassan project sound to Zetterberg and the Reunited +Nations?" + +Cliff Jackson laughed bitterly. "Why do you think we're in hiding?" +Only he and Jake Armstrong wore western clothing. Kenny Ballalou, +Bey-ag-Akhamouk and Elmer Allen were in native dress, similar to that +of Homer Crawford. Elmer Allen even bore a pilgrim's staff. + +[Illustration] + +Crawford, glad that the edge of tenseness had been taken off the group +by the banter with Isobel, turned serious now. + +He said, "This is where we each take our stand. You can turn back at +this point, any one of you, and things will undoubtedly go on as +before. You'll keep your jobs, have no marks against you. Beyond this +point, and there's no turning back. I want you all to think it over, +before coming to any snap decisions." + +Elmer Allen said, his face wearing its usual all but sullen +expression. "How about you?" + +Homer said evenly, "I've already taken my stand." + +Kenny Ballalou yawned and said, "I've been in this team for three or +four years, I'm too lazy to switch now Besides, I've always wanted to +be a corrupt politician. Can I be treasurer in this El Hassan regime?" + +"No," Homer said. "Bey?" + +Bey-ag-Akhamouk said, "I've always wanted to be a general. I'll come +in under those circumstances." + +Homer said, his voice still even. "That's out. From this point in, +you're a Field Marshal and Minister of Defense." + +"Shucks," Bey said. "I'd always wanted to be a general." + +Homer Crawford said dryly, "Doesn't anybody take this seriously? It's +probably going to mean all your necks before it's through, you know." + +Elmer Allen said dourly, "I take it seriously. I spent the idealistic +years, the school years, working for peace, democracy, a better world. +Now, here I am, helping to attempt to establish a tyranny over half +the continent of my racial background. But I'm in." + +"Right," Homer said, the side of his mouth twitching. "You can be our +Minister of Propaganda." + +"Minister of Propaganda!" Elmer wailed. "You mean like Goebbels? Me!" + +Homer laughed. "O.K., we'll call it Minister of Information, or Press +Secretary to El Hassan. It all means the same thing." He looked at +Jacob Armstrong and said, "How old are you, Jake?" + +"That's none of your business," the white-haired Jake said +aggressively. "I'm in. El Hassan is the only answer. North Africa has +got to be united, both for internal and external purposes. If you ... +if we ... don't do the job first, somebody else will, and off hand, I +can't think of anybody else I trust. I'm in." + +Homer Crawford looked at him for a long moment. "Yes," he said +finally. "Of course you are. Jake, you've just been made our combined +Foreign Minister and Plenipotentiary Extraordinary to the Reunited +Nations. You'll leave immediately, first for Geneva, to present our +demands to the Reunited Nations, then to New York." + +"What do I do in New York?" Jake Armstrong said blankly, trying to +assimilate the curves that were being thrown to him. + +"You raise money and support from starry eyed Negro groups and +individuals. You line up such organizations as the Africa for Africans +Association behind El Hassan. You give speeches, and ruin your liver +eating at banquets every night in the week. You send out releases to +the press. You get all the publicity for the El Hassan movement you +can. You send official protests to the governments of every country in +the world, every time they do something that doesn't fit in with our +needs. You locate recruits and send them here to Africa to take over +some of the load. I don't have to tell you what to do. You can think +on your feet as well as I can. Do what is necessary. You're our +Foreign Minister. Don't let us see your face again until El Hassan is +in control of North Africa." + +Jake Armstrong blinked. "How will I prove I'm your representative? +I'll need more than just a note _To Whom It May Concern_." + +Homer Crawford thought about that. + + * * * * * + +Bey said, "One of our first jobs is going to have to be to capture a +town where they have a broadcast station, say Zinder or In Salah. When +we do, we'll announce that you're Foreign Minister." + +Crawford nodded. "That's obviously the ticket. By that time you should +be in New York, with an office opened." + +Jake rubbed a black hand over his cheek as though checking his morning +shave. "It's going to take some money to get started. Once started I +can depend on contributions, perhaps, but at first...." + +Homer interrupted with, "Cliff, you're Minister of the Treasury. +Raise some money." + +"Eh?" Cliff Jackson said blankly. The king-size, easy-going +Californian looked more like the early Joe Louis than ever. + +Everybody laughed. Elmer Allen came forth with his wallet and began +pulling out such notes as it contained. "I don't know what we'd be +doing with this in the desert," he said. + +Isobel said, "I have almost three thousand dollars in a checking +account in New York. Let's see if I have my checkbook here." + +The others were going through their pockets. As bank notes in British +pounds, American dollars, French francs and Common Europe marks +emerged they were tossed to the center of the small table which +wobbled on three legs in the middle of the room. + +Elmer Allen said, "I have an account with the Bank of Jamaica in +Kingston. About four hundred pounds, I think. I'll have it +transferred." + +Cliff took up the money and began counting it, making notations on a +notebook pad as he went. + +Bey said, "We're only going to be able to give Jake part of this." + +"How's that?" Elmer growled. "What use have we for money in the +Sahara? Jake's got to put up a decent front in Geneva and New York." + +Bey said doggedly, "As Defense Minister, I'm opposed to El Hassan's +followers _ever_ taking anything without generous payment. We'll need +food and various services. From the beginning, we're going to have to +pay our way. We can't afford to let rumors start going around that +we're nothing but a bunch of brigands." + +"Bey's right," Homer nodded. "The El Hassan movement is going to have +to maintain itself on the highest ethical level. We're going to take +over where the French Camel Corps left off and police North Africa. +There can't be a man from Somaliland to Mauretania who can say that +one of El Hassan's followers liberated him from as much as a date." + +Kenny Ballalou said, "You can always requisition whatever you need and +give them a receipt, and then we'll pay off when we come to power." + +"That's out!" Bey snapped. "Most of these people can't read. And even +those that do don't trust what they read. A piece of paper, in their +eyes, is no return for some goats, or flour, camels, horses, or +whatever else it might be we need. No, we're going to have to pay our +way." + +Crawford raked a hand back through his wiry hair. "Bey's right, Kenny. +It's going to be a rough go, especially at first." + +Kenny snorted. "What do you mean, _at first?_ What's going to happen, +_at second_ to make it any easier? Where're we going to get all this +money we'll need to pay for even what we ourselves use, not to speak +of the thousands of men we're going to have to have if El Hassan is +ever to come to power?" + +Bey's eyebrows went up in shocked innocence. "Kenny, dear boy, don't +misunderstand. We don't requisition anything from individuals, or +clans, or small settlements. But if we take over a town such as Gao, +or Niamey, or Colomb-Béchar, or wherever, there is nothing to say that +a legal government such as that of El Hassan, can't requisition the +contents of the local banks." + +Homer Crawford said with dignity, "The term, my dear Minister of +Defense, currently is to _nationalize_ the bank. Whether or not we +wish to have the banks remain nationalized, after we take over, we can +figure out later. But in the early stages, I'm afraid we're going to +have to nationalize just about every bank we come in contact with." + +Cliff Jackson said cautiously, "I haven't said whether or not I'll +come in yet, but just as a point, I might mention issuing your own +legal tender. As soon as you liberate a printing press somewhere, of +course." + +Everyone was charmed at the idea. + +Isobel said, "You can see Cliff was _meant_ to be Minister of +Treasury. He's got _wholesale_ larceny in his soul, none of this +picayunish stuff such as robbing nomads of their sheep." + +Elmer Allen was shaking his head sadly. "This whole conversation +started with Bey protesting that we couldn't allow ourselves to be +thought of as brigands. Now listen to you all." + +Kenny Ballalou said with considerable dignity, "See here, friend. +Don't you know the difference between brigandage and international +finance?" + +"No," Elmer said flatly. + +"Hm-m-m," Kenny said. + +"Let's get on with this," Homer said. "The forming of El Hassan's +basic government is beginning to take on aspects of a minstrel show. +Then we've all declared ourselves in ... except Cliff." + +All eyes turned to the bulky Californian. + +He sat scowling. + +Homer said, easily, "You're not being urged, Cliff. You can turn back +at this point." + +Elmer Allen growled, "You came to Africa to help your race develop its +continent. To conquer such problems as sufficient food, clothing and +shelter for all. To bring education and decent medical care to a +people who have had possibly the lowest living standards anywhere. Can +you see any way of achieving this beyond the El Hassan movement?" + +Cliff looked at him, still scowling stubbornly. "That's not why I came +to Africa." + +Their eyes were all on him, but they remained silent. + +He said, defensively, "I'm no do-gooder. I took a job with the Africa +for Africans Association because it was the best job I could find." + +Isobel broke the silence by saying softly, "I doubt it, Cliff." + +The big man stood up from where he'd been seated on the bed. "O.K., +O.K. Possibly there were other angles. I wanted to travel. Wanted to +see Africa. Besides, it was good background for some future job. I +figured it wouldn't hurt me any, in later years, applying for some +future job. Maybe with some Negro concern in the States. I'd be able +to say I'd put in a few years in Africa. Something like a Jew in New +York who was a veteran of the Israel-Arab wars, before the debacle." + +They still looked at him, none of them accusingly. + +He was irritated as he paced. "Don't you see? Everybody doesn't have +this _dream_ that Homer's always talking about. That doesn't mean I'm +abnormal. I just don't have the interest you do. All I want is a good +job, some money in the bank, security back in the States. I'm not +interested in dashing all over the globe, getting shot at, dying for +some ideal." + +Homer said gently, "It's up to you, Cliff. Nobody's twisting your +arm." + +There was sweat on the big man's forehead. "All I came to Africa for +was the job, the money I got out of it," he repeated, insisting. + + * * * * * + +To Homer Crawford suddenly came the realization that the other needed +an out, an excuse. An explanation to himself for doing something he +wanted to do but wouldn't admit because it went against the +opportunistic code he told himself he followed. + +Homer said, "All right. How much are you making as a field worker for +the Africa for Africans Association?" + +Cliff looked at him, uncomprehending. "Eight thousand dollars, plus +expenses." + +"O.K., we'll double that. Sixteen thousand to begin with, as El +Hassan's Minister of Treasury and whatever other duties we can think +of to hang on you." + +There was a long moment of silence, unbroken by any of the others. +Finally in a gesture of desperation, Cliff Jackson waved at the money +and checks sitting on the center table. "Sixteen thousand a year! The +whole organization doesn't have enough to pay me six months' salary." + +Homer said mildly, "That's why your pay was doubled. You have to take +risks to make money in this world, Cliff. If El Hassan does come to +power, undoubtedly you'll get other raises--along with greater +responsibility." + +He looked into Cliff Jackson's face, and although his words had dealt +with money, a man's dream looked out from his eyes. And the force of +personality that could emanate from Homer Crawford, possibly +unbeknownst to himself, flooded over the huge Californian. The others +in the room could feel it. Elmer Allen cleared his throat; Isobel held +her elbows to her sides, in a feminine protest against naked male +psychic strength. + +Kenny Ballalou said without inflection, "Put up or shut up, Cliff old +pal." + +Cliff Jackson sank back onto the spot on the bed he'd occupied before. +"I'm in," he muttered, so softly as hardly to be heard. + +"None of you are in," a voice from the doorway said. + +The figure that stood there held a thin, but heavy calibered +automatic in his hand. + + * * * * * + +He was a dapper man, neat, trim, smart. His clothes were those of +Greater Washington, rather than Dakar and West Africa. His facial +expression seemed overly alert, overly bright, and his features were +more Caucasian than Negroid. + +He said, "I believe you all know me. Fredric Ostrander." + +"Of the Central Intelligence Agency," Homer Crawford said dryly. He as +well as Bey, Elmer and Kenny had risen to their feet when the newcomer +entered from the smaller of the hut's two rooms. "What's the gun for, +Ostrander?" + +"You're under arrest," the C.I.A. man said evenly. + +Elmer Allen snorted. "Under whose authority are you working? As a +Jamaican, I'm a citizen of the West Indies and a subject of Her +Majesty." + +"We'll figure that out later," Ostrander rapped. "I'm sure the +appropriate Commonwealth authorities will co-operate with the State +Department and the Reunited Nations in this matter." The gun +unwaveringly went from one of them to the other, retraced itself. + +Bey looked at Homer Crawford. + +Crawford shook his head gently. + +He said to the newcomer, "The question still stands, Ostrander. Under +whose authority are you operating? I don't think you have jurisdiction +over us. We're in Africa, not in the United States of the Americas." + +Ostrander said tightly, "Right now I'm operating under the authority +of this weapon in my hand. Dr. Crawford. Do you realize that all of +you Americans here are risking your citizenship?" + +Kenny Ballalou said, "Oh? Tell us more, Mr. State Department man." + +"You're serving in the armed forces of a foreign power." + +Even the dour Elmer Allen laughed at that one. + +Crawford said, "The fact of the matter is, we _are_ the foreign +power." + +"You're not amusing, Dr. Crawford," Ostrander said. "I've kept up with +this situation since you had that conference in Timbuktu. The State +Department has no intention of allowing some opportunist, backed by +known communists and fellow travelers, to seize power in this portion +of the world. In a matter of months the Soviets would be in here." + +Isobel said evenly, "I was formerly a member of the Party. I no longer +am. I am an active opponent of the Soviet Complex at the moment, +especially in regard to its activity in Africa." + +Ostrander snorted his disbelief. + +Elmer Allen said, "You chaps never forget, do you?" He looked at the +others and explained. "Back during college days, I signed a few peace +petitions, that sort of thing. Ever since, every time I come in +contact with these people, you'd think I was Lenin or Trotsky." + +Homer Crawford said, "My opinion is, Ostrander, that you've had to +move too quickly to check back with your superiors. Has the State +Department actually instructed you to arrest me and my companions here +on foreign soil, without a warrant?" + +Ostrander clipped, "That's my responsibility. I'm taking you all in. +We'll solve such problems as jurisdiction and warrants when I get you +to the Reunited Nations headquarters." + +"Ah?" Homer Crawford said. "And then what happens to us?" + +Ostrander jiggled the gun, impatiently. "Sven Zetterberg is of the +opinion that you should immediately be flown out of Africa and the +case brought before the High Council of the African Development +Project. What measures will be taken beyond that point I have no way +of knowing." + +Bey took a step to the left, Kenny Ballalou one to the right. Homer +Crawford remained immediately before the C.I.A. operative, his hands +slightly out from his sides, palms slightly forward. + +Ostrander snapped, "I'm prepared to fire, you men. I don't +underestimate the importance of this situation. If your crazy scheme +makes any progress at all, it might well result in the death of +thousands. I know your background, Crawford. You once taught judo in +the Marines. I'm not unfamiliar with the art myself." + +Isobel had a hand to her mouth, her eyes were wide. "Boys, don't ..." +she began. + +Elmer Allen had been leaning on his pilgrim's staff, as though weary +with this whole matter. He said to Ostrander, interestedly, "So you've +been checked out on judo? Know anything about the use of the +quarterstaff?" + +Ostrander kept his gun traversing between the four of them. "Eh?" he +said. + +Elmer Allen shifted his grip on his staff infinitesimally. Of a +sudden, the end of the staff, now gripped with both hands near the +center, moved at invisibly high speed. There was a crack of the wrist +bone, and the gun went flying. The other end of the staff flicked out +and rapped the C.I.A. operative smartly on the head. + +Fredric Ostrander crumbled to the floor. + + * * * * * + +"Confound it, Elmer," Crawford said. "What'd you have to go and do +that for? I wanted to talk to him some more and send a message back to +Zetterberg. Sooner or later we've got to make our peace with the +Reunited Nations." + +Elmer said embarrassedly, "Sorry, it just happened. I was merely going +to knock the gun out of his hand, but then I couldn't help myself. I +was tired of hearing that holier-than-thou voice of his." + +Kenny Ballalou looked down at the fallen man gloomily. "He'll be out +for an hour. You're lucky you didn't crack his skull." + +"Holy Mackerel," Cliff Jackson said. "I'm going to have to learn to +operate one of those things." + +Elmer Allen handed him the supposed pilgrim's staff. "Best +hand-to-hand combat weapon ever invented," he said. "The British +yeoman's quarterstaff. Of course, this is a modernized version. Made +of epoxy resin glass-fiber material, treated to look like wood. That +stuff can turn a high-velocity bullet, let alone a sword, and it can +be bent in a ninety degree arc without the slightest effect, although +it'd take a power-driven testing machine to do it." + +"All right, all right," Homer said. "We haven't got time for lessons +in the use of the quarterstaff. Let's put some thought to this +situation. If Ostrander here was able to find us, somebody else would, +too." + +Isobel licked the side of her mouth. "He was probably following me. +Remember, I told you Homer?" + +Kenny said, "If he had anyone with him, he'd have brought them along +to cover him. You've got to give him credit for bravery, taking on the +whole bunch of us by himself." + +"Um-m-m," Homer said. "I wish he was with us instead of against us." + +Jake Armstrong said, "Well, this solves one problem." + +They looked at him. + +He said, "Just as sure as sure, he's got a car parked somewhere. A car +with some sort of United States or Reunited Nations emblem on it." + +"So what?" Kenny said. + +"So you've got to get out of town before the search for you _really_ +gets under way. With such a car, you can get past any roadblock that +might already be up between here and the Yoff airport." + +Elmer Allen had sunk to his knees and was searching the fallen C.I.A. +man. He came up with car keys and a wallet. + +Homer said to Jake Armstrong, "Why the Yoff airport?" + +"Our plane is there," Jake told him. "The one assigned Isobel, Cliff +and me by the AFAA. You're going to have to make time. Get somewhere +out in the ah, boondocks, where you can begin operations." + +Bey said thoughtfully, "He's right, Homer. Anybody against us, like +our friend here"--he nodded at Ostrander--"is going to try to get us +quick, before we can get the El Hassan movement under way. We've got +to get out of Dakar and into some area where they'll have their work +cut out trying to locate us." + +Homer Crawford accepted their council. "O.K., let's get going. Jake, +you'll stay in Dakar, and at first play innocent. As soon as possible, +take plane for Geneva. As soon as you're there, send out press +releases to all the news associations and the larger papers. Announce +yourself as Foreign Minister of El Hassan and demand that he be +recognized as the legal head of state of all North Africa." + +"Wow," Cliff Jackson said. + +"Then play it by ear," Homer finished. + +He turned to the others. "Bey, where'd you leave our two hover-lorries +when you came here to Dakar?" + +"Stashed away in the ruins of a former mansion in Timbuktu. Hired two +Songhai to watch them." + +"O.K. Cliff, you're the only one in European dress. Take this wallet +of Ostrander's. You'll drive the car. If we run into any roadblocks +between here and the Yoff airport, slow down a little and hold the +wallet out to show your supposed identification. They won't take the +time to check the photo. Bluff your way past, don't completely stop +the car." + +"What happens if they do stop us?" Cliff said worriedly. + +Kenny Ballalou said, "That'll be just too bad for them." + +Bey stooped and scooped up the fallen automatic of Fredric Ostrander +and tucked it into the voluminous folds of his native robe. "Here we +go again," he said. + + +III + +The man whose undercover name was Anton, landed at Gibraltar in a BEA +roco-jet, passed quickly through customs and immigration with his +Commonwealth passport and made his way into town. He checked with a +Bobby and found that he had a two-hour wait until the Mons Capa ferry +left for Tangier, and spent the time wandering up and down Main +Street, staring into the Indian shops with their tax-free cameras from +Common Europe, textiles from England, optical equipment from Japan, +and cheap souvenirs from everywhere. Gibraltar, the tourist's shopping +paradise. + +The trip between Gibraltar and Tangier takes approximately two hours. +If you've never made it before, you stand on deck and watch Spain +recede behind you, and Africa loom closer. This was where Hercules +supposedly threw up his Pillars, Gibraltar being the one on the +European shore. Those who have made the trip again and again, sit down +in the bar and enjoy the tax-free prices. The man named Anton stood on +the deck. He was African by birth, but he'd never been to Morocco +before. + +When he landed, he made the initial error of expecting the local +citizenry to speak Arabic. They didn't. Rif, a Berber tongue, was the +first language. The man called Anton had to speak French to make known +his needs. He took a Chico cab up from the port to the El Minza hotel, +immediately off the Plaza de France, the main square of the European +section. + +At the hotel entrance were two jet-black doormen attired in a +pseudo-Moroccan costume of red fez, voluminous pants and yellow +barusha slippers. They made no note of his complexion, there is no +color bar in the Islamic world. + +He had reservations at the desk. He left his passport there to go +through the standard routine, including being checked by the police, +had his bag sent up to his room and, a few minutes later, hands +nonchalantly in pockets, strolled along the Rue de Liberté toward the +casbah area of the medina. Up from the native section of town streamed +hordes of costumed Rifs, Arabs, Berbers of a dozen tribes, even an +occasional Blue Man. At least half the women still wore the haik and +veil, half the men the burnoose. Africa changes slowly, the man +called Anton admitted to himself all over again--so slowly. + +[Illustration] + +Down from the European section, which could have been a Californian +city, filtered every nation of the West, from every section of Common +Europe, the Americas, the Soviet Complex. If any city in the world is +a melting pot, it is Tangier, where Africa meets Europe and where East +meets West. + +He passed through the teaming Grand Zocco market, and through the +gates of the old city. He took Rue Singhalese, the only street in the +medina wide enough to accommodate a vehicle and went almost as far as +the Zocco Chico, once considered the most notorious square in the +world. + +For a moment the man called Anton stood before one of the Indian shops +and stared at the window's contents. Carved ivory statuettes from the +Far East, cameras from Japan, ebony figurines, chess sets of water +jade, gimcracks from everywhere. + +A Hindu stood in the doorway and rubbed his hands in a gesture so +stereotyped as to be ludicrous. "Sir, would you like to enter my shop? +I have amazing bargains." + +The man they called Anton entered. + +He looked about the shop, otherwise empty of customers. Vaguely, he +wondered if the other ever sold anything, and, if so, to whom. + +He said, "I was looking for an ivory elephant, from the East." + +The Indian's eyebrows rose. "A white elephant?" + +"A red elephant," the man called Anton said. + +"In here," the Hindu said evenly, and led the way to the rear. + +The rooms beyond were comfortable but not ostentatious. They passed +through a livingroom-study to an office beyond. The door was open and +the Indian merely gestured in the way of introduction, and then left. + +Kirill Menzhinsky, agent superior of the _Chrezvychainaya Komissiya_ +for North Africa, looked up from his desk, smiled his pleasure, came +to his feet and held out his hand. + +"Anton!" he said. "I've been expecting you." + +The man they called Anton smiled honestly and shook. "Kirill," he +said. "It's been a long time." + +The other motioned to a comfortable armchair, resumed his own seat. +"It's been a long time all right--almost five years. As I recall, I +was slung over your shoulder, and you were wading through those +confounded swamps. The ..." + +"The Everglades." + +"Yes." The heavy-set Russian espionage chief chuckled. "You are much +stronger than you look, Anton. As I recall, I ordered you to abandon +me." + +The wiry Negro grunted deprecation. "You were delirious from your +wound." + +The Russian came to his feet, turned his back and went to a small +improvised bar. He said, his voice low, "No, Anton, I wasn't +delirious. Perhaps a bit afraid, but then the baying of dogs is +disconcerting." + +The man they called Anton said, "It is all over now." + +The Russian returned and said, "A drink, Anton? As I recall you were +never the man to refuse a drink. Scotch, bourbon, vodka?" + +The other shrugged. "I believe in drinking the local product. What is +the beverage of Tangier?" + +Kirill Menzhinsky took up a full bottle the contents of which had a +greenish, somewhat _oily_ tinge. "Absinthe," he said. "Guaranteed to +turn your brains to mush if you take it long enough. What was the name +of that French painter...?" + +"Toulouse Lautrec," Anton supplied. "I thought the stuff was illegal +these days." He watched the other add water to the potent liqueur. + +The Russian chuckled. "Nothing is illegal in Tangier, my dear Anton, +except the Party." He laughed at his own joke and handed the other his +glass. He poured himself a jolt of vodka and returned to his chair. +"To the world revolution, Anton." + +The Negro saluted with his drink. "The revolution!" + +They drank. + +The Russian put down his glass and sighed. "I wish we were some place +in our own lands, Anton. Dinner, many drinks, perhaps some girls, eh?" + +Anton shrugged. "Another time, Kirill." + +"Yes. As it is, we should not be seen together. Nor, for that matter +should you even return here. The imperialists are not stupid. Very +possibly, American and Common Europe espionage agents know of this +headquarters. Not to speak of the Arab Union. I shall try to give you +the whole story and your assignment in this next half hour. Then you +should depart immediately." + + * * * * * + +The man they called Anton sipped his drink and relaxed in his chair. +He looked at his superior without comment. + +The Russian took another jolt of his water-clear drink. "Have you ever +heard of El Hassan?" + +The Negro thought a moment before saying, "Vaguely. Evidently an Arab, +or possibly a Tuareg. North African nationalist. No, that wouldn't be +the word, since he is international. At any rate, he seems to be +drawing a following in the Sahara and as far south as the Sudan. Backs +modernization and wants unity of all North Africa. Is he connected +with the Party?" + +The espionage chief was shaking his head. "That is the answer I +expected you to give, and is approximately what anyone else would have +said. Actually, there is no such person as El Hassan." + +Anton frowned. "I'm afraid you're wrong there, Kirill. I've heard +about him in half a dozen places. Very mysterious figure. Nobody seems +to have seen him, but word of his program is passed around from +Ethiopia to Mauretania." + +The Russian was shaking his head negatively. "That I know. It's a +rather strange story and one rather hard to believe if it wasn't for +the fact that one of my operatives was in on the, ah, _manufacturing_ +of this Saharan leader." + +"Manufacturing?" + +"I'll give you the details later. Were you acquainted with Abraham +Baker, the American comrade?" + +"Were? I _am_ acquainted with him. Abe is a friend as well as a +comrade." + +The Russian shook his head again. "Baker is dead, Anton. As you +possibly know, his assignment for the past few years has been with a +Reunited Nations African Development Project team, working in the +Sahara region. We planted him there expecting the time to arrive when +his services would be of considerable value. He worked with a five-man +team headed by a Dr. Homer Crawford and largely the team's task was to +eliminate bottlenecks that developed as the various modernization +projects spread over the desert." + +"But what's this got to do with _manufacturing_ El Hassan?" + +"I'm coming to that. Crawford's team, including Comrade Baker, usually +disguised themselves as Enaden smiths. As such, their opinions carried +little weight so in order to spread Reunited Nations propaganda, they +hit upon the idea of imputing everything they said to this great hero +of the desert, El Hassan." + +"I see," the man called Anton said. + +"Others, without knowing the origin of our El Hassan, took up the idea +and spread it. These nomads are at an ethnic level where they want a +hero to follow, a leader. So in order to give prestige to their +teachings the various organizations trying to advance North Africa +followed in Crawford's footsteps and attributed their teachings to +this mysterious El Hassan." + +"And it snowballed." + +"Correct! But the point is that after a time Crawford came around to +the belief that there should be a real El Hassan. That the primary +task at this point is to unite the area, to break down the old tribal +society and introduce the populace to the new world." + +"He's probably right," the man called Anton growled. He finished his +drink, got up from his chair and on his own went over and mixed +another. "More vodka?" he asked. + +"Please." The Russian held up his glass and went on talking. "Yes, +undoubtedly that is what is needed at this point. As it is, things are +trending toward a collapse. The imperialists, especially the +Americans, of course, wish to dominate the area for their capitalistic +purposes. The Arab Union wishes to take over _in toto_ and make it +part of their Islamic world. We, of course, cannot afford to let +either succeed." + +The Negro resumed his chair, sipped at his drink and listened, nodding +from time to time. + +Kirill Menzhinsky said, "As you know, Marx and Engels when founding +scientific socialism had no expectation that their followers would +first come to power in such backward countries as the Russia of 1917 +or the China of 1949. In fact, the establishment of true socialism +presupposes a highly developed industrial economy. It is simply +impossible without such an economy. When Lenin came to power in 1917, +as a result of the chaotic conditions that prevailed upon the military +collapse of Imperial Russia, he had no expectation of going it alone, +as the British would say. He expected immediate revolutions in such +countries as Germany and France and supposed that these more advanced +countries would then come to the assistance of the Soviet Union and +all would advance together to true socialism." + + * * * * * + +"It didn't work out that way," the man called Anton said dryly. + +"No, it didn't. And Lenin didn't live to see the steps that Stalin +would take in order to build the necessary industrial base in Russia." +Kirill Menzhinsky looked about the room, almost as though checking to +see if anyone else was listening. "Some of our more unorthodox +theoreticians are inclined to think that had Lenin survived the +assassin's bullet, that Comrade Stalin would have found it necessary +to, ah, liquidate him." + +The Russian cleared his throat. "Be that as it may, basic changes were +made in Marxist teachings to fit into Stalin's and later Khrushchev's +new concepts of the worker's State. And the Soviet Union muddled +through, as the British have it. Today, the Soviet Complex is as +powerful as the imperialist powers." + +The espionage leader knocked back his vodka with a practiced stiff +wristed motion. "Which brings us to the present and to North Africa." +He leaned forward in emphasis. "Comrade, if the past half century and +more has taught us anything, it is that you cannot establish socialism +in a really backward country. In short, communism is impossible in +North Africa at this point in her social evolution. Impossible. You +cannot go directly from tribal society to communism. At this historic +point, there is no place for the party's program in North Africa." + +The man called Anton scowled. + +The Russian waggled his hand negatively. "Yes, yes. I know. +Ultimately, the whole world must become Soviet. Only that way will we +achieve our eventual goal. But that is the long view. Realistically, +we must face it, as the Yankees say. This area is not at present soil +for our seed." + +"Things move fast these days," the Negro growled. "Industrialization, +education, can be a geometric progression." + +His superior nodded emphatically. "Of course, and as little as ten or +fifteen years from now, given progress at the present rate, perhaps +there will be opportunity for our movement. But now? No." + +The other said, "What has all this to do with El Hassan, or Crawford, +or whatever the man's name is?" + +"Yes," the Russian said. "Homer Crawford has evidently decided to +become El Hassan." + +"Ahhh." + +"Yes. At this point, in short, he is traveling in our direction. He is +doing what we realize must be done." + +"Then we will support him?" + +"Now we come to the point, Anton. Homer Crawford is not sympathetic to +the Party. To the contrary. Our suspicion, although we have no proof, +is that he killed Comrade Abe Baker, when Baker approached him on his +stand in regard to the Party's long view." + +"I see," the man called Anton said. + +The Russian nodded. "We must keep in some sort of touch with him--some +sort of control. If this El Hassan realizes his scheme and unites all +North Africa, sooner or later we will have to deal with him. If he is +antagonistic, we will have to find means to liquidate him." + +"And my assignment...?" + +"He will be gathering followers at this point. Many followers, most of +whom will be unknown to him. You will become one of them. Raise +yourself to as high a rank as you find possible in his group. Become a +close friend, if that can be done...." + +"He killed Abe Baker, eh?" + +The Russian frowned. "This is an assignment, Comrade Anton. There is +no room for personal feelings. You are a good field man. Among the +best. You are being given this task because the Party feels you are +the man for it. Possibly it is an assignment that will take years in +the fulfilling." + +The Negro said nothing. + +"Are there any questions?" + +"Do we have any other operatives working on this?" + +The frown became a scowl. "An Isobel Cunningham worked with Comrade +Baker, but it has been suspected that she has been drifting away from +the party these past few years. Her present status is unknown, but she +is believed to be with Homer Crawford and his followers. Possibly she +has defected. If so, you will take whatever measures seem necessary. +You will be working almost completely on your own, Comrade. You must +think on your feet, as the Yankees say." + +The man called Anton thought a moment. He said, "You'd better give me +as thorough a run down as possible on this Homer Crawford and his +immediate followers." + + * * * * * + +Menzhinsky settled back in his chair and took up a sheaf of papers +from the desk. "We have fairly complete dossiers. I'll give you the +highlights, then you can take these with you to your hotel to study at +leisure." + +He took up the first sheet. "Homer Crawford. Born in Detroit of +working-class parents. In his late teens interrupted his education to +come to Africa where he joined elements of the F.L.N. in Morocco and +took part in several forays into Algeria. Evidently was wounded and +invalided back to the States where he resumed his education. When he +came of military age, he joined the Marine Corps and spent the usual, +ah, hitch I believe they call it. Following that, he resumed his +education, finally taking a doctor's degree in sociology. He then +taught for a time until the Reunited Nations began its African +program. He accepted a position, and soon distinguished himself." + +The Russian took up another paper. "According to Comrade Baker's +reports, Crawford is an outstanding personality, dominating others, +even in spite of himself. He would make a top party man. Idealistic, +strong, clever, ruthless when ruthlessness is called for." + +Menzhinsky paused for a moment, finding words hard to come by from an +ultra-materialist. His tone went wry. "Comrade Baker also reported a +somewhat mystical quality in our friend Crawford. An ability in times +of emotional crisis to break down men's mental barriers against him. A +_force_ that ..." + +The other raised his eyebrows. + +His superior chuckled, ruefully. "Comrade Baker was evidently much +swayed by the man's personality. However, Anton, I might point out +that similar reports have come down to us of such a dominating +personality in Lenin, and, to a lesser degree, in Stalin." He twisted +his mouth. "History leads us to believe that such personalities as +Jesus and Mohammed seemed to have some power beyond that of we more +mundane types." + +"And the others?" Anton said. + +The Russian took up still another paper. "Elmer Allen. Born of small +farmer background on the outskirts of Kingston, on the island of +Jamaica. Managed to work his way through the University of Kingston +where he took a master's degree in sociology. At one time he was +thought to be Party material and was active in several organizations +that held social connotations, pacifist groups and so forth. However, +he was never induced to join the Party. Upon graduation, he +immediately took employment with the Reunited Nations and was assigned +to Homer Crawford's team. He is evidently in accord with Crawford's +aims as El Hassan." + +The espionage chief took up another sheet. "Bey-ag-Akhamouk ..." + +The other scowled. "That can't be an American name." + +"No. He is the only real African associated with Crawford at this +point. He was evidently born a Taureg and taken to the States at an +early age, three or four, by a missionary. At any rate, he was +educated at the University of Minnesota where he studied political +science. We have no record of where he stands politically, but Comrade +Baker rated him as an outstanding intuitive soldier. A veritable +genius in combat. He would seem to have had military experience +somewhere, but we have no record of it. Our Bey-ag-Akhamouk seems +somewhat of a mystery man." + +The Russian sorted out another sheet. "Kenneth Ballalou, born in +Louisiana, educated in Chicago. Another young man but evidently as +capable as the others. He seems to be quite a linguist. So far as we +know, he holds no political stand whatsoever." + +Menzhinsky pursed his lips before saying, "The Isobel Cunningham I +mentioned worked with the Africa for Africans Association with two +colleagues, a Jacob Armstrong and Clifford Jackson. It is possible +that these two, as well as Isobel Cunningham, have joined El Hassan. +If so, we will have to check further upon them, although I understand +Armstrong is rather elderly and hardly effective under the +circumstances." + +The man called Anton said evenly, "And this former comrade, Isobel +Cunningham, has evidently joined with Crawford even though he ... was +the cause of Abe Baker's death?" + +"Evidently." + +The Negro's eyes narrowed. + +The other said, "And evidently she is a most intelligent and +attractive young lady. We had rather high hopes for her formerly." + +The Negro party member came to his feet and gathered up the sheaf of +papers from the desk. "All right," he said. "Is there anything else?" + +The espionage chief shook his head. "You do not need a step by step +blueprint, Anton, that is why you have been chosen for this +assignment. You are strongly based in Party doctrine. You know what is +needed, we can trust you to carry on the Party's aims." After a pause, +the Russian added, "Without being diverted by personal feelings." + +Anton looked him in the face. "Of course," he said. + + * * * * * + +Fredric Ostrander was on the carpet. + +His chief said, "You seem to have conducted yourself rather +precipitately, Fred." + +Ostrander shrugged in irritation. "I didn't have time to consult +anyone. By pure luck, I spotted the Cunningham girl and since I knew +she had affiliated herself with Crawford, I followed her." + +The chief said dryly, "And tried to arrest the seven of them, all by +yourself." + +"I couldn't see anything else to do." + +The C.I.A. official said, "In the first place, we have no legal +jurisdiction here and you could have caused an international stink. +The Russkies would just love to bring something like this onto the +Reunited Nations floor. In the second place, you failed. How in the +world did you expect to take on that number of men, especially +Crawford and his team?" + +Ostrander flushed his irritation. "Next time ..." he began. + +His chief waved a hand negatively. "Let's hope there isn't going to be +next time, of this type." He took up a paper from his desk. "Here's +your new job, Fred. You're to locate this El Hassan and keep in +continual contact with him. If he meets with any sort of success at +all, and frankly our agency doubts that he will, you will attempt to +bring home to Crawford and his followers the fact that they are +Americans, and orientate them in the direction of the West. Above all, +you are to keep in touch with us and keep us informed on all +developments. Especially notify us if there is any sign that our El +Hassan is in communication with the Russkies or any other foreign +element." + +"Right," Ostrander said. + +His chief looked at him. "We're giving you this job, Fred, because +you're more up on it than anyone else. You're in at the beginning, so +to speak. Now, do you want me to assign you a couple of assistants?" + +"White men?" Ostrander said. + +His higher-up scowled. "You know you're the only Negro in our agency, +Fred." + +Fredric Ostrander, his voice still even, said, "That's too bad, +because anyone you assigned me who wasn't a Negro would be a hindrance +rather than an assistant." + +The other drummed his fingers on the table in irritation. He said +suddenly, "Fred, do you think I ought to do a report to Greater +Washington suggesting they take more Negro operatives into the +agency?" + +Ostrander said dryly, "You'd better if this department is going to get +much work done in Africa." He stood up. "I suppose that the sooner I +get onto the job, the better. Do you have any idea at all where +Crawford and his gang headed after they left me unconscious in that +filthy hut?" + +"No, we haven't the slightest idea of where they might be, other than +that they left your car abandoned at the Yoff airport." + +"Oh, great," Fredric Ostrander complained. "They've gone into hiding +in an area somewhat twice the size of the original fifty United +States." + +"Good luck," his chief said. + + * * * * * + +Rex Donaldson, formerly of Nassau in the British Bahamas, formerly of +the College of Anthropology, Oxford, now field man for the African +Department of the British Commonwealth working at expediting native +development, was taking time out for needed and unwonted relaxation. +In fact, he stretched out on his back in the most comfortable bed, in +the most comfortable hotel, in the Niger town of Mopti. His hands +were behind his head, and his scowling eyes were on the ceiling. + +He was a small, bent man, inordinately black even for the Sudan and +the loincloth costume he wore was ludicrous in the Westernized comfort +of the hotel room. He was attired for the bush and knew that it was +sheer laziness now that kept him from taking off for the Dogon country +of the Canton de Sangha where he was currently working to bring down +tribal prejudices against the coming of the schools. He had his work +cut out for him in the Dogon, the old men, the tribal elders they +called Hogons, instinctively knew that the coming of education meant +subversion of their institutions and the eventual loss of Hogon power. + +His portable communicator, sitting on the bedside table, buzzed and +the little man grumbled a profanity and swung his crooked legs around +to the floor. His eyebrows went up when he realized it was a priority +call which probably meant from London. + +He flicked the reception switch and a girl's face faded onto the +screen. She said, "A moment, Mr. Donaldson, Sir Winton wants you." + +"Right," Rex Donaldson said. Sir Winton, yet. Head of the African +Department. Other than photographs, Donaldson had never seen his +ultimate superior, not to mention speaking to him personally. + +The girl's face faded out and that of Sir Winton Brett-Homes faded in. +The heavy-set, heavy-faced Englishman looked down, obviously checking +something on his desk. He looked up again, said, "Rex Donaldson?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"I won't waste time on preliminaries, Donaldson. We've been +discussing, here, some of the disconcerting rumors coming out of your +section. Are you acquainted with this figure, El Hassan?" + +The black man's eyes widened. He said, cautiously, "I have heard a +good many stories and rumors." + +"Yes, of course. They have been filtering into this office for more +than a year. But thus far little that could be considered concrete has +developed." + +Rex Donaldson held his peace, waited for the other to go on. + +Sir Winton said impatiently, "Actually, we are still dealing with +rumors, but they are beginning to shape up. Evidently, this El Hassan +has finally begun to move." + +"Ahhh," the wiry little field man breathed. + +The florid faced Englishman said, "As we understand it, he wishes to +cut across tribal, national and geographic divisions in all North +Africa, wishes to unite the whole area from Sudan to the +Mediterranean." + +"Yes," Donaldson nodded. "That seems to be his program." + +Sir Winton said, "It has been decided that the interests of Her +Majesty's government and that of the Commonwealth hardly coincide with +such an attempt at this time. It would lead to chaos." + +"Ahhh," Donaldson said. + +Sir Winton wound it up, all but beaming. "Your instructions, then, +are to seek out this El Hassan and combat his efforts with whatever +means you find necessary. We consider you one of our most competent +operatives, Donaldson." + +Rex Donaldson said slowly, "You mean that he is to be stopped at all +cost?" + +The other cleared his throat. "You are given carte blanche, Donaldson. +You and our other operatives in the Sahara and Sudan. Stop El Hassan." + +Rex Donaldson said flatly, "You have just received my resignation, Sir +Winton." + +"What ... what!" + +"You heard me," Donaldson said. + +"But ... but what are you going to do?" The heavy face of the African +Department head was going a reddish-purple, which rather fascinated +Donaldson but he had no time to further contemplate the phenomenon. + +"I'm going to round up a few of my colleagues, of similar mind to my +own, and then I'm going to join El Hassan," the little man snapped. +"Good-bye, Sir Winton." + +He clicked the set off and then looked down at it. His dour face broke +into a rare grin. "Now there's an ambition I've had for donkey's +years," he said aloud. "To hang up on a really big mucky-muck." + + +IV + +Following the attack of the unidentified rocketcraft, El Hassan's +party was twice again nearly flushed by reconnoitering planes of +unknown origin. They weren't making the time they wanted. + +Beneath a projecting rock face over a gravel bottomed wadi, the two +hover-lorries were hidden, whilst a slow-moving helio-jet made +sweeping, high-altitude circlings above them. + +[Illustration] + +The six stared glumly upward. + +Cliff Jackson who was on the radio called out, "I just picked him up. +He's called in to Fort Lamy reporting no luck. His fuel's running +short and he'll be knocking off soon." + +Homer Crawford rapped, "What language?" + +"French," Cliff said, "but it's not his. I mean he's not French, just +using the language." + +Bey's face was as glum as any and there was a tic at the side of his +mouth. He said now, "We've got to come up with something. Sooner or +later one of them will spot us and this next time we won't have any +fantastic breaks like Homer being able to knock him off with a +Tommy-Noiseless. He'll drop a couple of neopalms and burn up a square +mile of desert including El Hassan and his whole crew." + +Homer looked at him. "Any ideas, Bey?" + +"No," the other growled. + +Homer Crawford said, "Any of the rest of you?" + +Isobel was frowning, bringing something back. "Why don't we travel at +night?" + +"And rest during the day?" Homer said. + +Kenny said, "Parking where? We just made it to this wadi. If we're +caught out in the dunes somewhere when one of those planes shows up, +we've had it. You couldn't hide a jackrabbit out there." + +But Bey and Homer Crawford were still looking at Isobel. + +She said, "I remember a story the Tuaregs used to tell about a raid +some of them made back during the French occupation. They stole four +hundred camels near Timbuktu one night and headed north. The French +weren't worried. The next morning, they simply sent out a couple of +aircraft to spot the Tuareg raiders and the camels. Like Kenny said, +you couldn't hide a jackrabbit in dune country. But there was nothing +to be seen. The French couldn't believe it, but they still weren't +really worried. After all a camel herd can travel only thirty or so +miles a day. So the next day the planes went out again, circling, +circling, but they still didn't spot the thieves and their loot, nor +the next day. Well, to shorten it, the Tuareg got their four hundred +camels all the way up to Spanish Rio de Oro where they sold them." + +She had their staring attention. "How?" Elmer blurted. + +"It was simple. They traveled all night and then, at dawn, buried the +camels and themselves in the sand and stayed there all day." + +Homer said, "I'm sold. Boys, I hope you're in physical trim because +there's going to be quite a bit of digging for the next few days." + +Cliff groaned. "Some Minister of the Treasury," he complained. "They +give him a shovel instead of a bankbook." + +Everyone laughed. + +Bey said, "Well, I suppose we stay here until nightfall." + +"Right," Homer said. "Whose turn is it to pull cook duty?" + +Isobel said menacingly, "I don't know whose turn it is, but I know I'm +going to do the cooking. After that slumgullion Kenny whipped up +yesterday, I'm a perpetual volunteer for the job of chef--strictly in +self-defense." + +"That was a cruel cut," Kenny protested, "however, I hereby relinquish +all my rights to cooking for this expedition." + +"And me!" + +"And me!" + +"O.K.," Homer said, "so Isobel is Minister of the Royal Kitchen." He +looked at Elmer Allen. "Which reminds me. You're our junior +theoretician. Are we a monarchy?" + +Elmer Allen scowled sourly and sat down, his back to the wadi wall. "I +wouldn't think so." + +Isobel went off to make coffee in the portable galley in the rear of +the second hovercraft. The others brought forth tobacco and squatted +or sat near the dour Jamaican. Years in the desert had taught them the +nomad's ability to relax completely given opportunity. + +"So if it's not a monarchy, what'll we call El Hassan?" Kenny +demanded. + +Elmer said slowly, thoughtfully, "We'll call him simply _El Hassan_. +Monarchies are of the past, and El Hassan is the voice of the future, +something new. We won't admit he's just a latter-day tyrant, an +opportunist seizing power because it's there crying to be seized. +Actually, El Hassan is in the tradition of Genghis Khan, Tamerlane, +or, more recently, Napoleon. But he's a modern version, and we're not +going to hang the old labels on him." + +Isobel had brought the coffee. "I think you're right," she said. + +"Sold," Homer agreed. "So we aren't a monarchy. We're a tyranny." His +face had begun by expressing amusement, but that fell off. He added, +"As a young sociologist, I never expected to wind up a literal +tyrant." + +Elmer Allen said, "Wait a minute. See if I can remember this. Comes +from Byron." He closed his eyes and recited: + + "The tyrant of the Chersonese + Was freedom's best and bravest friend. + That tyrant was Miltiades, + Oh that the present hour would lend + Another despot of the kind. + Such bonds as his were sure to bind." + +Isobel, pouring coffee, laughed and said, "Why Elmer, who'd ever dream +you read verse, not to speak of memorizing it, you old sourpuss." + +Elmer Allen's complexion was too dark to register a flush. + +Homer Crawford said, "Yeah, Miltiades. Seized power, whipped the +Athenians into shape to the point where they were able to take the +Persians at Marathon, which should have been impossible." He looked +around at the others, winding up with Elmer. "What happened to +Miltiades after Marathon and after the emergency was over?" + +Elmer looked down into his coffee. "I don't remember," he lied. + + * * * * * + +There was a clicking from the first hover-lorry, and Cliff Jackson put +down his coffee, groaned his resentment at fate, and made his way to +the vehicle and the radio there. + +Bey motioned with his head. "That's handy, our still being able to +tune in on the broadcasts the African Development Project makes to its +teams." + +Kenny said, "Not that what they've been saying is much in the way of +flattery." + +Bey said, "They seem to think we're somewhere in the vicinity of Bidon +Cinq." + +"That's what worries me," Homer growled. He raked his right hand back +through his short hair. "If they think we're in Southern Algeria, what +are these planes doing around here? We're hundreds of miles from Bidon +Cinq." + +Bey shot him an oblique glance. "That's easy. That plane that tried to +clobber us, and these others that have been trying to search us out, +aren't really Reunited Nations craft. They're someone else." + +They all looked at him. "Who?" Isobel said. + +"How should I know? It could be almost anybody with an iron in the +North African fire. The Soviet Complex? Very likely. The British +Commonwealth or the French Community? Why not? There're elements in +both that haven't really accepted giving up the old colonies and would +like to regain them in one way or the other. The Arab Union? Why +comment? Common Europe? Oh, Common Europe would love to have a free +hand exploiting North Africa." + +"You haven't mentioned the United States of the Americas," Elmer said +dryly. "I hope you haven't any prejudices in favor of the land of your +adoption, Mr. Minister of War." + +Bey shrugged. "I just hadn't got around to her. Admittedly with the +continued growth of the Soviet Complex and Common Europe, the States +have slipped from the supreme position they occupied immediately +following the Second War. The more power-happy elements are conscious +of the ultimate value of control of Africa and doubly conscious of the +danger of it falling into the hands of someone else. Oh, never fear, +those planes that have been pestering us might belong to anybody at +all." + +Cliff Jackson hurried back from his radio, his face anxious. "Listen," +he said. "That was a high priority flash, to all Reunited Nations +teams. The Arab Union has just taken Tamanrasset. They pushed two +columns out of Libya, evidently one from Ghat and one from further +north near Ghademès." + +Homer Crawford was on his feet, alert. "Well ... why?" + +Cliff had what amounted to accusation on his face. "Evidently, the El +Hassan rumors are spreading like wildfire. There've been more riots in +Mopti, and the Reunited Nations buildings in Adrar have been stormed +by mobs demonstrating for him. The Arab Union is moving in on the +excuse of protecting the country against El Hassan." + +Kenny Ballalou groaned, "They'll have half their Arab Legion in here +before the week's out." + +Cliff finished with, "The Reunited Nations is throwing a wingding. +Everybody running around accusing and threatening, and, as per usual, +getting nowhere." + +Homer Crawford's face was working in thought. He shook his head at +Kenny. "I think you're wrong. They won't send the whole Arab Legion +in. They'll be afraid to. They'll want to see first what everybody +else does. They know they can't stand up to a slugging match with any +of the really big powers. They'll stick it out for a while and watch +developments. We have, perhaps, two weeks in which to operate." + +"Operate?" Cliff demanded. "What do you mean, operate?" + +Homer's eyes snapped to him. "I mean to recapture Tamanrasset from the +Arab Union, seize the radio and television station there, and proclaim +El Hassan's regime." + +The big Californian's eyes bugged at him. "You mean the six of us? +There'll be ten thousand of them." + +"No," Homer said decisively. "Nothing like that number. Possibly a +thousand, if that many. Logistics simply doesn't allow a greater +number, not on such short notice. They've put a thousand or so of +their crack troops into the town. No more." + +Cliff wailed, "What's the difference between a thousand and twenty +thousand, so far as five men and a girl are concerned?" + +The rest were saying nothing, but following the debate. + +Crawford explained, not to just Cliff but to all of them. "Actually, +the Arab Union is doing part of our job for us. They've openly +declared that El Hassan is attempting to take over North Africa, that +he's raising the tribes. Well, good. We didn't have the facilities to +make the announcement ourselves. But now the whole world knows it." + + * * * * * + +"That's right," Elmer said, his face characteristically sullen. "Every +news agency in the world is playing up the El Hassan story. In a +matter of days, the most remote nomad encampment in the Sahara will +know of it, one way or the other." + +Homer Crawford was pacing, socking his right fist into the palm of the +left. "They've given us a rallying _raison d'etre_. These people might +be largely Moslem, especially in the north, but they have no love for +the Arab Union. For too long the slave raiders came down from the +northeast. Given time, Islam might have moved in on the whole of North +Africa. But not this way, not in military columns." + +He swung to Bey. "You worked over in the Teda country, before joining +my team, and speak the Sudanic dialects. Head for there, Bey. +Proclaim El Hassan. Organize a column. We'll rendezvous at Tamanrasset +in exactly two weeks." + +Bey growled, "How am I supposed to get to Faya?" + +"You'll have to work that out yourself. Tonight we'll drop you near In +Guezzam, they have one of the big solar pump, afforestation +developments there. You should be able to, ah, requisition a truck, or +possibly even a 'copter or aircraft. You're on your own, Bey." + +"Right." + +Homer spun to Kenny Ballalou. "You're the only one of us who gets +along in the dialect of Hassania. Get over to Nemadi country and raise +a column. There are no better scouts in the world. Two weeks from +today at Tamanrasset." + +"Got it. Drop me off tonight with Bey, we'll work together until we +liberate some transport." + +Bey said, "It might be worth while scouting in In Guezzam for a day or +two. We might pick up a couple of El Hassan followers to help us along +the way." + +"Use your judgment. Elmer!" + +Elmer groaned sourly, "I knew my time'd come." + +"Up into Chaambra country for you. Take the second lorry. You've got a +distance to go. Try to recruit former members of the French Camel +Corps. Promise just about anything, but only remember that one day +we'll have to keep the promises. El Hassan can't get the label of +phony hung on him." + +"Chaambra country," Elmer said. "Oh great. Arabs. I can just see what +luck I'm going to have rousing up Arabs to fight other Arabs, and me +with a complexion black as ..." + +Homer snapped at him, "They won't be following you, they'll be +following El Hassan ... or at least the El Hassan dream. Play up the +fact that the Arab Union is largely not of Africa but of the Middle +East. That they're invading the country to swipe the goats and violate +the women. Dig up all the old North African prejudices against the +Syrians and Egyptians, and the Saudi-Arabian slave traders. You'll +make out." + +Cliff said, nervously, "How about me, Homer?" + +Homer looked at him. Cliff Jackson, in spite of his fabulous build, +hadn't a fighting man's background. + +Homer grinned and said, "You'll work with me. We're going into Tuareg +country. Whenever occasion calls for it, whip off that shirt and go +strolling around with that overgrown chest of yours stuck out. The +Tuareg consider themselves the best physical specimens in the Sahara, +which they are. They admire masculine physique. You'll wow them." + +Cliff grumbled, "Sounds like vaudeville." + +Isobel said softly, "And me, El Hassan? What do I do?" + +Homer turned to her. "You're also part of headquarters staff. The +Tuareg women aren't dominated by their men. They still have a strong +element of descent in the matrilinear line and women aren't +second-class citizens. You'll work on pressuring them. Do you speak +Tamaheq?" + +"Of course." + +Homer Crawford looked up into the sky, swept it. The day was rapidly +coming to an end and nowhere does day become night so quickly as in +the ergs of the Sahara. + +"Let's get underway," Crawford said. "Time's a wastin'." + + * * * * * + +The range of the Ahaggar Tuareg was once known, under French +administration, as the Annexe du Hoggar, and was the most difficult +area ever subdued by French arms--if it was ever subdued. At the +battle of Tit on May 7, 1902 the Camel Corps, under Cottenest, broke +the combined military power of the Tuareg confederations, but this +meant no more than that the tribes and clans carried on nomadic +warfare in smaller units. + +The Ahaggar covers roughly an area the size of Pennsylvania, New York, +Virginia and Maryland combined, and supports a population of possibly +twelve thousand, which includes about forty-five hundred Tuareg, four +thousand Negro serf-slaves, and some thirty-five hundred scorned +sedentary Haratin workers. The balance of the population consists of a +handful of Enaden smiths and a small number of Arab shopkeepers in the +largest of the sedentary centers. Europeans and other whites are all +but unknown. + +It is the end of the world. + +Contrary to Hollywood-inspired belief, the Sahara does not consist +principally of sand dunes, although these, too, are present, and all +but impassable even to camels. Traffic, through the millennia, has +held to the endless stretches of gravelly plains and the rock ribbed +plateaus which cover most of the desert. The great sandy wastes or +ergs cover roughly a fifth of the entire Sahara, and possibly two +thirds of this area consists of the rolling sandy plains dotted +occasionally with dunes. The remaining third, or about one fifteenth +of the total Sahara, is characterized by the dune formations of +popular imagination. + +It was through this latter area that Homer Crawford, now with but one +hover-lorry, and accompanied by Isobel Cunningham and Clifford +Jackson, was heading. + +For although the spectacular major dune formations of the Great Erg +have defied wheeled vehicles since the era of the Carthaginian +chariots, and even the desert born camel limits his daily travel in +them to but a few miles, the modern hovercraft, atop its air cushion +jets, finds them of only passing difficulty to traverse. And the +hovercraft leaves no trail. + +Cliff Jackson scowled out at the identical scenery. Identical for more +than two hundred miles. For twice that distance, they had seen no +other life. No animal, no bird, not a sprig of cactus. This was the +Great Erg. + +He muttered, "This country is so dry even the morning dew is +dehydrated." + +Isobel laughed--she, too, had never experienced this country before. +"Why, Cliff, you made a funny!" + +They were sitting three across in the front seat, with Homer Crawford +at the wheel, and now all three were dressed in the costume of the Kel +Rela tribe of the Ahaggar Tuareg confederation. In the back of the +lorry were the jerry-cans of water and the supplies that meant the +difference between life and mummification from sun and heat. + +Cliff turned suddenly to the driver. "Why here?" he said bitterly. +"Why pick this for a base of operations? Why not Mopti? Ten thousand +Sudanese demonstrated for El Hassan there less than two weeks ago. +You'd have them in the palm of your hand." + +Homer didn't look up from his work at wheel, lift and acceleration +levers. To achieve maximum speed over the dunes, you worked constantly +at directing motion not only horizontally but vertically. + +He said, "And the twenty and one enemies of the El Hassan movement +would have had us in their palms. Our followers in Mopti can take care +of themselves. If this movement is ever going to be worth anything, +the local characters are going to have to get into the act. The +current big thing is not to allow El Hassan and his immediate troupe +to be eliminated before full activities can get under way. For the +present, we're hiding out until we can gather forces enough to free +Tamanrasset." + +"Hiding out is right," Cliff snorted. "I have a sneaking suspicion +that not only will they never find us, but we'll never find them +again." + +Homer laughed. "As a matter of fact, we're not so far right now from +Silet where there's a certain amount of water--if you dig for it--and +a certain amount of the yellowish grass and woody shrubs that the +bedouin depend on. With luck, we'll find the Amenokal of the Tuareg +there." + +"Amenokal?" + +"Paramount chief of the Ahaggar Tuaregs." + + * * * * * + +The dunes began to fall away and with the butt of his left hand +Crawford struck the acceleration lever. He could make more time now +when less of his attention was drawn to the ups and downs of erg +travel. + +Patches of thorny bush began to appear, and after a time a small herd +of gazelle were flushed and high tailed their way over the horizon. + +Isobel said, "Who is this Amenokal you mentioned?" + +"These are the real Tuareg, the comparatively untouched. They've got +three tribes, the Kel Rela, the Tégéhé Mellet and the Taitoq, each +headed by a warrior clan which gives its name to the tribe as a whole. +The chief of the Kel Rela clan is also chief of the Kel Rela tribe and +automatically paramount chief, or Amenokal, of the whole +confederation. His name is Melchizedek." + +"Do you think you can win him over?" Isobel said. + +"He's a smart old boy. I had some dealings with him over a year ago. +Gave him a TV set in the way of a present, hoping he'd tune in on some +of our Reunited Nations propaganda. He's probably the most +conservative of the Tuareg leaders." + +Her eyebrows went up. "And you expect to bring him around to the most +liberal scheme to hit North Africa since Hannibal?" + +He looked at her from the side of his eyes and grinned. "Remember +Roosevelt, the American president?" + +"Hardly." + +"Well, you've read about him. He came into office at a time when the +country was going to economic pot by the minute. Some of the measures +he and his so-called brain trust took were immediately hailed by his +enemies as socialistic. In answer, Roosevelt told them that in times +of social stress the true conservative is a liberal, since to +preserve, you have to reform. If Roosevelt hadn't done the things he +did, back in the 1930s, you probably would have seen some _real_ +changes in the American socio-economic system. Roosevelt didn't +undermine the social system of the time, he preserved it." + +"Then, according to you, Roosevelt was a conservative," she said +mockingly. + +Crawford laughed. "I'll go even further," he said. "When social +changes are pending and for whatever reason are not brought about, +then reaction is the inevitable alternative. At such a time then--when +sweeping socio-economic change is called for--any reform measures +proposed are concealed measures of reaction, since they tend to +maintain the _status quo_." + +"Holy Mackerel," Cliff protested. "Accept that and Roosevelt was not +only not a liberal, but a reactionary. Stop tearing down my childhood +heroes." + +Isobel said, "Let's get back to this Amenokal guy. You think he's +smart enough to see his only chance is in going along with ..." + +Homer Crawford pointed ahead and a little to the right. "We'll soon +find out. This is a favorite encampment of his. With luck, he'll be +there. If we can win him over, we've come a long way." + +"And if we can't?" Isobel said, her eyebrows raised again. + +"Then it's unfortunate that there are only three of us," Homer said +simply, without looking at her. + +There were possibly no more than a hundred Tuareg in all in the nomad +encampment of goat leather tents when the solar powered hovercraft +drew up. + +[Illustration] + +When the air cushion vehicle stopped before the largest tent, Crawford +said beneath his breath, "The Amenokal is here, all right. Cliff, +watch your teguelmoust. If any of these people see more than your +eyes, your standing has dropped to a contemptible zero." + +The husky Californian secured the lightweight cotton, combination veil +and turban well up over his face. Earlier, Crawford had shown him how +to wind the ten-foot long, indigo-blue cloth around the head and +features. + +Isobel, of course, was unveiled, Tuareg fashion, and wore baggy +trousers of black cotton held in place with a braided leather cord by +way of drawstring and a gandoura upper-garment consisting of a huge +rectangle of cloth some seven to eight feet square and folded over on +itself with the free corners sewed together so as to leave bottom and +most of both sides open. A V-shaped opening for her head and neck was +cut out of a fold at the top, and a large patch had been sewed inside +to make a pocket beneath her left breast. She wasn't exactly a +Parisian fashion plate. + +Even as they stepped down from the hovercraft, immediately after it +had drifted to rest on the ground, an elderly man came from the tent +entrance. + +He looked at them for a moment, then rested his eyes exclusively on +Homer Crawford. + +"_La Bas_, El Hassan," he said through the cloth that covered his +mouth. + +Homer Crawford was taken aback, but covered the fact. "There is no +evil," he repeated the traditional greeting. "But why do you name me +El Hassan?" + +A dozen veiled desert men, all with the Tuareg sword, several with +modern rifles, had formed behind the Tuareg chief. + +Melchizedek made a movement of hand to mouth, in a universal gesture +of amusement. "Ah, El Hassan," he said, "you forget you left me the +magical instrument of the Roumi." + +Crawford was mystified, but he stood in silence. What the Tuareg +paramount chief said now made considerable difference. As he recalled +his former encounter with the Ahaggar leader, the other had been +neither friendly nor antagonistic to the Reunited Nations team +Crawford had headed in their role as itinerant desert smiths. + +The Amenokal said, "Enter then my tent, El Hassan, and meet my +chieftains. We would confer with you." + +The first obstacle was cleared. Subduing a sigh of relief, Homer +Crawford turned to Cliff. "This, O Amenokal of all the Ahaggar, is +Clif ben Jackson, my Vizier of Finance." + +The Amenokal bowed his head slightly, said, "_La Bas_." + +Cliff could go that far in the Tuareg tongue. He said, "_La Bas_." + +The Amenokal said, looking at Isobel, "I hear that in the lands of the +Roumi women are permitted in the higher councils." + +Homer said steadily, "This I have also been amazed to hear. However, +it is fitting that my followers remain here while El Hassan discusses +matters of the highest importance with the Amenokal and his +chieftains. This is the Sitt Izubahil, high in the councils of her +people due to the great knowledge she has gained by attending the new +schools which dispense rare wisdom, as all men know." + +The Amenokal courteously said, "_La Bas_," but Isobel held her peace +in decency amongst men of chieftain rank. + +When Homer and the Tuaregs had disappeared into the tent, she said to +Cliff, "Stick by the car, I'm going to circulate among the women. +Women are women everywhere. I'll pick up the gossip, possibly get +something Homer will miss in there." + +A group of Tuareg women and children, the latter stark naked, had +gathered to gape at the strangers. Isobel moved toward them, began +immediately breaking the ice. + +Under his breath, Cliff muttered, "What a gal. Give her a few hours +and she'll form a Lady's Aid branch, or a bridge club, and where else +is El Hassan going to pick up so much inside information?" + + * * * * * + +The tent, which was of the highly considered mouflon skins, was +mounted on a wooden frame which consisted of two uprights with a +horizontal member laid across their tops. The tent covering was +stretched over this framework with its back and sides pegged down and +the front, which faced south, was left open. It was ten feet deep, +fifteen feet wide and five feet high in the middle. + +The men entered and filed to the right of the structure where +sheepskins and rugs provided seating. The women and children, who +abided ordinarily to the left side, had vanished for this gathering of +the great. + +They sat for a time and sipped at green tea, syrup sweet with mint and +sugar, the tiny cups held under the teguelmoust so as not to obscenely +reveal the mouth of the drinker. + +Finally, Homer Crawford said, "You spoke of the magical instrument of +the Roumi which I gave you as gift, O Amenokal, and named me El +Hassan." + +Several of the Tuareg chuckled beneath their veils but Crawford could +read neither warmth nor antagonism in their amusement. + +The elderly Melchizedek nodded. "At first we were bewildered, O El +Hassan, but then my sister's son, Guémama, fated perhaps one day to +become chief of the Kel Rela and Amenokal of all the Ahaggar, recalled +the tales told by the storytellers at the fire in the long evenings." + +Crawford looked at him politely. + +Melchizedek's laugh was gentle. "But each man has heard, in his time, +O El Hassan, of the ancient Calif Haroun El Raschid of Baghdad." + +Crawford's mind went into high gear, as the story began to come back +to him. From second into high gear, and he could have blessed these +bedouin for handing him a piece of publicity gobblydygook worthy of +Fifth Avenue's top agency. + +He held up a hand as though in amusement at being discovered. +"Wallahi, O Amenokal, you have discovered my secret. For many months I +have crossed the deserts disguised as a common Enaden smith to seek +out all the people and to learn their wishes and their needs." + +"Even as Haroun el Raschid in the far past," one of the subchiefs +muttered in satisfaction, "used to disguise himself as a lowborn +dragoman and wander the streets of Baghdad." + +"But how did you recognize me?" Homer said. + +The Amenokal said in reproof, "But verily, your name is on all lips. +The Roumi have branded you common criminal. You are to be seized on +sight and great reward will be given he who delivers you to the +authorities." He spoke without inflection, and Crawford could read +neither support nor animosity--nor greed for the reward offered by El +Hassan's enemies. He gathered the impression that the Tuareg chief was +playing his cards close to his chest. + +"And what else do they say?" + +The elderly Melchizedek went on slowly, "They say that El Hassan is in +truth a renegade citizen of a far away Roumi land and that he attempts +to build a great confederation in North Africa for his own gain." + +One of the others chuckled and said, "The Roumi on the magical +instrument are indeed great liars as all can see." + +Homer looked at him questioningly. + +The other said, laughing, "Who has ever heard of a black Roumi? And +you, O El Hassan, are as black as a Bela." + +The Amenokal finished off the mystery of Crawford's recognition. +"Know, El Hassan, that whilst you were here before, one of the slaves +that served you for pay shamelessly looked upon your face in the +privacy of your tent. It was this slave who recognized your face when +the Roumi presented it on the magic instrument, calling upon all men +to see you and to brand you enemy." + +So that was it. The Reunited Nations, and probably all the rest, had +used their radio and TV stations to broadcast a warning and offer a +reward for Homer and his followers. Old Sven was losing no time. This +wasn't so good. A Tuareg owes allegiance to no one beyond clan, tribe +and confederation. All others are outside the pale and any advantage, +monetary or otherwise, to be gained by exploiting a stranger is well +within desert mores. + +He might as well bring it to the point. Crawford said evenly, "And I +have entered your camp alone except for two followers. Your people are +many. So why, O Amenokal, have you not seized me for the reward the +Roumi offer?" + + * * * * * + +There was a moment of silence and Homer Crawford sensed that the +sub-chieftains had leaned forward in anticipation, waiting for their +leader's words. Possibly they, too, could not understand. + +The Tuareg leader finished his tea. + +"Because, El Hassan, we yet have not heard the message which the Roumi +are so anxious that you not be allowed to bring the men of the desert. +The Roumi are great liars, and great thieves, as each man knows. In +the memory of those still living, they have stolen of the bedouin and +robbed him of land and wealth. So now we would hear of what you say, +before we decide." + +"Spoken like a true Amenokal, a veritable Suliman ben Davud," Homer +said with a heartiness he could only partly feel. At least they were +open to persuasion. + +For a long moment he stared down at the rug upon which they sat, as +though deep in contemplation. + +"These words I speak will be truly difficult to hear and accept, O men +of the veil," he said at last. "For I speak of great change, and no +man loves change in the way of his life." + +"Speak, El Hassan," Melchizedek said flatly. "Great change is +everywhere upon us, as each man knows, and none can tell how to +maintain the ways of our fathers." + +"We can fight," one of the younger men growled. + +The Amenokal turned to him and grunted scorn. "And would you fight +against the weapons of the djinn and afrit, O Guémama? Know that in my +youth I was distant witness to the explosion of a great weapon which +the accursed Franzawi discharged south of Reggan. Know, that this +single explosion, my sister's son, could with ease have destroyed the +total of all the tribesmen of the Ahaggar, had they been gathered." + +"And the Roumi have many such weapons," Crawford added gently. + +The eyes of the tribal headmen came back to him. + +"As each man knows," Crawford continued, "change is upon the world. No +matter how strongly one wills to continue the traditions of his +fathers, change is upon us all. And he who would press against the +sand storm, rather than drifting with it, lasts not long." + +One of the subchiefs growled, "We Tuareg love not change, El Hassan." + +Crawford turned to him. "That is why I and my viziers have spent long +hours in _ekhwan_, in great council, devoted to the problems of the +Tuareg and how they can best fit into the new Africa that everywhere +awakes." + +They stirred in interest now. The Tuareg, once the Scourge of the +Sahara, the Sons of Shaitan and the Forgotten of Allah, to the Arab, +Teda, Moroccan and other fellow inhabitants of North Africa, were of +recent decades developing a tribal complex. Robbed of their +nomadic-bandit way of life by first the French Camel Corps and later +by the efforts of the Reunited Nations, they were rapidly descending +into a condition of poverty and defensive bewilderment. Not only were +large numbers of former bedouin drifting to the area's sedentary +centers, an act beyond contempt within the memory of the elders, but +the best elements of the clans were often deserting Tuareg country +completely and defecting to the new industrial centers, the dam +projects, the afforestation projects, the new oases irrigated with the +solar-powered pumps. + +"Speak, El Hassan," the Amenokal ordered. And unconsciously, he, too, +leaned forward, as did his subchiefs. The Ahaggar Tuareg were reaching +for straws, unconsciously seeking shoulders upon which to lay their +unsolvable problems. + +"Let me, O chiefs of the Tuareg, tell of a once strong tribe of +warriors and nomads who lived in the far country in which I was born," +Crawford said. The desert man loves a story, a parable, a tale of the +strong men of yesteryear. + +Melchizedek clapped his hands in summons and when a slave appeared, +called for _narghileh_ water pipes. When all had been supplied, they +relaxed, bits in mouths and looked again at Homer Crawford. + +"They were called," he intoned, "the Cheyenne. The Northern Cheyenne, +for they had a sister tribe to the South. And on all the plains of +this great land, a land, verily, as large as all that over which the +Tuareg confederations now roam, they were the greatest huntsmen, the +greatest warriors. All feared them. They were the lords of all." + +"Ai," breathed one of the older men. "As were the Tuareg before the +coming of the cursed Franzawi and the other Nazrani." + +"But in time," Crawford pursued, "came the new ways to the plains, and +these men who lived largely by the chase began to see the lands fenced +in for farmers, began to see large cities erected on what were once +tribal areas, and to see the iron railroads of the new ways begin to +spread out over the whole of the territory which once was roamed only +by the Cheyennes and such nomadic tribes." + +"Ai," a muffled mouth ejected. + +Homer Crawford looked at the younger Targui, Guémama, the Amenokal's +nephew. "And so," he said, "they fought." + +"Wallahi!" Guémama breathed. + +Homer Crawford looked about the circle. "Never has tribe fought as did +the Cheyenne. Never has the world seen such warriors, with the +exception, of course, of the Ahaggar Tuareg. Never were such raids, +never such bravery, never such heroic deeds as were performed by the +warriors of the Cheyennes and their women, and their old people and +their children. Over and over they defeated the cavalry and the +infantry of the newcomers who would change the old ways and bring the +new to the lands of the Cheyennes." + +The bedouin were staring in fascination, their water pipes forgotten. + +"And then...?" the Amenokal demanded. + +"The new ways taught the enemy how to make guns, and artillery, and +finally Gatling guns, which today we call machine guns. And once a +brave warrior might prevail against a common man armed with the +weapons of the new ways, and even twice he might. But the numbers of +the followers of the new ways are as the sands of the Great Erg and in +time bravery means nothing." + +"It is even so," someone growled. "They are as the sands of the erg, +and they have the weapons of the djinn, as each man knows." + +"And what happened in the end, O El Hassan?" + +His eyes swept them all. "They perished," Homer said. "Today in all +the land where once the Cheyenne pursued the game there is but a +handful of the tribe alive. And they have become nothing people, no +longer warriors, no longer nomads, and they are scorned by all for +they are poor, poor, poor. Poor in mind and spirits, and in property +and they have not been able to adjust to the ways of the new world." + +Air went out of the lungs of the assembled Tuareg. + +The Amenokal looked at him. "This is verily the truth, El Hassan?" + +"My head upon it," Crawford said. + +"And why do you tell us of these Cheyenne, these great warriors of the +plains of the land of your birth? The story fails to bring joy to +hearts already heavy with the troubles of the Tuareg." + +It was time to play the joker. + +Crawford said carefully, "Because there was no need, O Amenokal of all +the Ahaggar, for the Cheyenne to disappear before the sandstorm of the +future. They could have ridden before it and today occupy a position +of honor and affluence in their former land." + +They stared at him. + +"And give up the old ways?" Guémama demanded. "Become no longer +nomads, no longer honorable warriors, but serfs, slaves, working with +one's hands upon the land and with the oil-dirty machines of the +Roumi?" + +The chiefs muttered angrily. + +Crawford said hurriedly, "No! Never! In our great conferences, my +viziers and I decided that the Tuareg could never so change. The +Tuareg must die, as did the Northern Cheyenne before he would become a +city dweller, a worker of the land." + +"Bismillah!" someone muttered. + +"Too often," Crawford explained, "do the bringers of these things of +the future, be they Roumi or others, fail to utilize the potential +services of the people of the lands they over-sweep." + +"I do not understand you, El Hassan," Melchizedek grumbled. "There is +no room for the Tuareg in this new world of bringing trees to the +desert, of the great trucks which speed across the erg a score of time +the pace of a _hejin_ racing camel, of larger and ever larger oases +with their great towns, their schools, their new industries. If the +Tuareg remains Tuareg, he cannot fit into this new world, it destroys +the old traditions, the old way which is the Tuareg way." + +Homer Crawford now turned on the pressure. His voice took on overtones +of the positive, his personality seemed to reach out and seize them, +and even his physical stature seemed to grow. + +"Some indeed of the ways of the bedouin must go," he entoned, "but the +Tuareg will survive under my leadership. A people who have throve a +millennium and more in the great wastes of the Sahara have strong +survival characteristics and will blossom, not die, in my new world. +Know, O Melchizedek, that it has been decided that the Ahaggar Tuareg +will be the heart of my Desert Legion. In times of conflict, armed +with the new arms, and riding the new vehicles, they will adapt their +old methods of warfare to this new age. In times of peace they will +patrol the new forests, watching for fire and other disaster, they +will become herdsmen of the new herds and be the police and rescue +forces of this wide area. As the Cheyennes of the olden times of the +land of my birth could have become herdsmen and forest rangers and +have performed similar tasks had they been shown the way." + +Homer Crawford let his eyes go from one of them to the next, and his +personality continued to dominate them. + +The Amenokal ran his thin, aged hand through the length of his white +beard beneath his teguelmoust and contemplated this stranger come out +of the ergs to lead his people to still greater changes than those +they had thus far rebelled against. + + * * * * * + +Crawford realized that the Targui was divided in opinion and inwardly +the American was in a cold sweat. But his voice registered only +supreme confidence. "Under my banner, all North Africa will be welded +into one. And all the products of the land will be available in +profusion to my faithful followers. The finest wheat for cous cous +from Algeria and Tunis, the finest dates and fruits from the oases to +the north, the manufactured products of the factories of Dakar and +Casablanca. For Africa has always been a poor land but will become a +rich one with the new machines and techniques that I will bring." + +The Amenokal raised a hand to stem the tide of oratory. "And what do +you ask of us now, El Hassan?" + +Instead of to the older man, Crawford turned his eyes to the face of +Guémama, the leader of the young clansmen. "Now my people are +gathering to establish the new rule. Teda from the east, Chaambra from +the north, Sudanese from the south, Nemadi, Moors and Rifs from the +west. We rendezvous in ten days from now at Tamanrasset where the Arab +Legion dogs have seized the city as they wish to seize all the lands +of the Sahara and Sudan for the corrupt Arab Union politicians." + +Crawford came to his feet. His voice took on an edge of command. "You +will address your scouts and warriors and each will ride off on the +swiftest camels at your command to raise the Tuareg tribes. And the +clans of the Kel Rela will unite with the Taitoq and the Tégéhé Mellet +in a great harka at this point and we will ride together to sweep the +Arab Legion from the lands of El Hassan." + +Guémama was on his feet, too. "Bilhana!" he roared. "With joy." + +The others were arising in excitement, all but Melchizedek, who still +stroked his gray streaked beard beneath his teguelmoust. The Amenokal +had seen much of desert war in his day and knew the horror of the new +weapons possessed by the crack troops of the Arab Legion. + +But his aged shoulders shrugged against the inevitable. + +Crawford said, the ring of authority in his voice. "What does the +Amenokal of all the Ahaggar say?" He had no intention of antagonizing +the Tuareg chief by going over his head and directly to the people. + +"Thou art El Hassan," Melchizedek said, his voice low, "and +undoubtedly it is fated that the Tuareg follow you, for verily there +is no way else to go, as each man knows." + +"Wallahi!" Guémama crowed jubilantly. + +[Illustration] + + +V + +Guémama, nephew of Melchizedek the Amenokal of the Ahaggar Tuareg +confederation and fighting chief of the Kel Rela clan of the Kel Rela +tribe, brought his Hejin racing camel to an abrupt halt with a smack +of his mish'ab camel stick. He barked, "_Adar-ya-yan_," in command to +bring it to its knees, and slid to the ground before his mount had +groaned its rocking way to the sand. + +The Tarqui was jubilant. His dark eyes sparked above his teguelmoust +veil and he presented himself before Homer Crawford with the elan of a +Napoleonic cavalryman before his emperor. Were red leather fil fil +boots capable of producing a clicking of heels, that sound would have +rung. + +Crawford said with dignity, "Aselamu, Aleikum, Guémama. Greeting to +you." + +"Salaam Aleikum," the tribesman got out breathlessly. "Your message +spreads, O El Hassan. My men ride to eastward and westward and never a +tent from here to Silet, from In Guezzam to Timissao but knows that El +Hassan calls. The Taitoq and the Tégéhé Mellet ride!" + +Homer Crawford was standing before the hovercraft. The Amenokal's +tribesmen had set up two large goat leather tents for his use and the +three Americans had largely withdrawn to their shelter. Crawford was +aware of the dangers of familiarity. + +Cliff Jackson, who as usual had been monitoring the radio, came from +the hover-lorry and growled, "What's he saying?" + +"The tribesmen are gathering as per instructions," Homer said in +English. + +Jackson grunted, somewhat self-conscious of the Targui's admiring +gaze. The Tuareg is the handsomest physical specimen of North Africa, +often going to six foot of wiry manhood, but there was nothing in all +the Sahara to rival the build of Homer Crawford, not to speak of the +giant Cliff Jackson. + +Crawford turned back to the Tuareg chieftain. "You please me well, O +Guémama. Know that I have been in conference with my viziers on the +Roumi device which enables one to speak great distances and that we +have decided that you are to head all the fighting clans of the +Ahaggar, and that you will ride at the left hand of El Hassan, as +shield on shoulder rides." + +The Targui, overwhelmed, made adequate pledges of fidelity, flowering +words of thanks, and then hurried off to inform his fellow tribesmen +of his appointment. + +Isobel emerged from her tent. She looked at Homer obliquely, the sides +of her mouth turning down. "As shield on shoulder rides," she +translated from the Tamaheq Berber tongue into English. "Hm-m-m." She +cast her eyes upward in memory. "You aren't plagiarizing Kipling, are +you?" + +Crawford grinned at her. "These people like a well turned phrase." + +"And who could turn them better than Rudyard?" she said. Her voice +dropped the bantering tone. "What's this bit about making Guémama +war-chief of the Tuareg? Isn't he on the young and enthusiastic +side?" + +Cliff scowled. "You mean that youngster? Why he can't be more than in +his early twenties." + +Crawford was looking after the young Targui who was disappearing into +his uncle's tent on the far side of the rapidly growing encampment. + +"You mean the age of Napoleon in the Italian campaign, or Alexander at +Issus?" he asked. Isobel began to respond to that, but he shook his +head. "He's the Amenokal's nephew, and traditionally would probably +get the position anyway. He's the most popular of the young tribesmen, +and it's going to be they who do the fighting. Having the appointment +come from El Hassan, and at this early point, will just bind him +closer. Besides that, he's a natural born warrior. Typical. +Enthusiastic, bold, brave and with the military mind." + +"What's a military mind?" Cliff said. + +"He can take off his shirt without unbuttoning his collar," Homer told +him. + +"Very funny," Cliff grumbled. + +Isobel turned to the big Californian. "What's on the radio, Cliff?" + +"Let's go get a cup of coffee," he said. "All hellzapoppin." + + * * * * * + +They went into the larger of the two Tuareg tents, and Isobel poured +water from a girba into the coffee pot which she placed on a heat +unit, flicking its switch. She said sarcastically, from the side of +her mouth, "A message, O El Hassan, from the Department of Logistics, +subdepartment Commissary of Headquarters of the Commander in Chief. +Unless you get around to capturing some supplies in the near future, +your food is going to be prepared over a camel dung fire. This heat +unit is fading out on me." + +"Don't bother me with trivialities," Homer told her. "I've got _big_ +things on my mind." + +She looked at him suspiciously. "Hm-m-m. Such as what?" + +"Such as whether to put my face on the postage stamps profile or +full." + +She said, under her breath, "I shoulda known. Already, delusions of +grandeur." + +"Holy Mackerel," Cliff protested. "Aren't we ever serious around this +place? You two will wind up gagging with the firing squad." + +Crawford chuckled softly but let his face go serious. "Sorry, Cliff. +What's on your mind?" + +Cliff said impatiently, "From the radio reports, the Arab Union is +consolidating its position. El Hassan is being discredited by the +minute. Your followers were in control for a time in Mopti and Bamako, +but they're falling away because of lack of direction. The best way I +can put reports together, the Reunited Nations is in complete +confusion. Everybody accusing everybody of double-dealing." + +Isobel said dryly, "Any other good news?" + +Cliff said glumly, "Rumors, rumors, rumors. Half the marabouts in +North Africa are proclaiming a jihad in support of the Pan-Islam +program of the Arab Union. Listen, Homer, we've got to get the +backing of the Moslem leaders." + +Homer Crawford grunted. "We need Islam in this part of the world like +we need a hole in the head. That's one of the things already wrong +with North Africa." + +"What's wrong with Islam? It was probably the most dynamic religion +ever to sweep the world." + +"_Was_ is right," Crawford growled, now on one of his favorite peeve +subjects. "The Moslem religion exploded out of Arabia with some new +concepts that set the world in ferment from India to Southern France. +For all practical purposes Islam _invented_ science. Sure, the Greeks +had logic and the Romans had engineering--without applying the +Greek-style logic. But the Arabs amalgamated the two concepts to yield +experimental science. They were able to take the intellectual products +of a dozen cultures and wield them into one. For a hundred years or so +it looked as though they had something." + +When he hesitated for a moment, Isobel said, questioningly, "And ..." + +"And they couldn't get away from that Q'ran of theirs. They took it +seriously. They started off in their big universities, such as those +at Fez, being the greatest scientists and scholars the world had ever +seen. But the fundamentalists won out, and in a couple of hundred +years the only thing being taught at Fez was the Q'ran. To even +suggest that all necessary information isn't contained therein, is +enough to have you clobbered. Islam became the most reactionary force +to suppress progress in the civilized world. In fact, by this period +in world history, we don't even think of the Moslem world as +particularly civilized." + +Cliff said defensively, "The Bible doesn't encourage original thinking +either. A fundamentalist ..." + +"Sure," Crawford interrupted. "Those elements who take the Bible the +way Islam took the Q'ran wind up in the same rut. But _as a whole_, +Europe was sparked enough by the original Islamic explosion that the +Renaissance resulted, with what world results we all know. Be ..." + + * * * * * + +There was a roar of confusion outside. A blasting of guns, a shrieking +of _Ul-Ul-Ul-Allah Akbar!_ + +Crawford came to his feet unhappily. "Another contingent of Tuareg," +he said. "I'll have to give them a quick welcoming to the colors +speech." + +The guns outside continued their booming. + +"Confound it," he growled, "I wish I could break them of that habit of +blasting away their ammunition. They'll have better targets before the +week is out." + +He pushed open the tent flap and, followed by Isobel and Cliff, +emerged into the stretch of clearing between his tents and the +hovercraft, and the growing Tuareg encampment. His diagnosis had been +correct. A contingent of possibly two score Tuareg camelmen had come +a-galloping up, shaking rifles above their heads in a small scale +gymhana, or fantasia as the Moors called them. + +"At least it's a larger group than usual," Cliff said from behind. +"But at this rate, it'll still take a month for us to equal the Arab +Legion in Tamanrasset." He added in disgust, "And look at this bunch +of ragamuffins. Half of them are carrying muzzleloaders." + +The booming muskets and the cracking rifles suddenly began to fall off +in intensity and the camelmen and the hordes of Tuareg women and naked +children who had swarmed from the tents to greet them were falling +silent. Here and there a hand pointed upward. + +Homer, Cliff and Isobel swung their own eyes up to the sky in dreaded +anticipation. The hover-lorry was camouflaged to blend in with the +sands and rock outcroppings of this area, but it was possible that an +aircraft might have determined that this was El Hassan's base, +possibly through some act of a traitor, in which case ... + +They found the spot in the sky that the tribesmen were pointing out. +It seemed to move slowly for a military craft, but for that matter it +might be a helio-jet and considerably more dangerous, so far as they +being spotted was concerned, than a fast moving fighter. + +[Illustration] + +Guémama, was barking to his men to take cover. Two days before +Crawford had checked out several of the more bright-eyed on the flac +rifle and now three of them ran to where it was set up at a high +point. + +But hardly had the confused milling got under way than it fell off +again. Movement stopped, and the Tuareg faced the approaching dot in +the sky. + +"Djinn...!" + +"Afrit...!" + +Cliff had darted back into the tent, now he emerged with binoculars. + +"What the devil is it?" Crawford snapped. Desert trained eyes were +evidently considerably more effective than his own. He couldn't see +what the tribesmen were gaping at. + +"It's the smallest heliohopper _I've_ ever seen," Cliff snorted. "It's +so small practically all you can see are the rotors and the passenger. +He doesn't even look as though he's got a seat." + +Guémama came hurrying up, his eyes wide beneath his teguelmoust. "El +Hassan! A witchman ... come out of the sky!" + +Homer said evenly, "It is nothing. Only post men ready to obey my +commands." + +Guémama hesitated as though to waver out another protest, but then +spun and hurried off--military-like, glad to have an order to obey to +keep his mind from the impossible. + +"I'm beginning to have a sneaking suspicion--" Crawford began without +finishing. "Come on Isobel, Cliff. We're going to have to make the +most of this." + + * * * * * + +Rex Donaldson, ex-field man for the African Department of the British +Commonwealth, dropped the lift lever of his heliohopper and settled to +the ground immediately before Homer Crawford who stood there flanked +by Isobel Cunningham and Cliff Jackson. Further back and in the form +of a crescent were possibly two or three hundred Tuareg of all ages +and both sexes. + +Donaldson, in the garb of a Dogan juju man consisting of little more +than a wisp of cloth about his loins, played it straight, not knowing +the setup. On the face of it, he had just flown out of the sky +_personally_. The size of his equipment so small as to be all but +meaningless. + +He unstrapped himself from the thin, bicyclelike seat, and, +expressionlessly, folded the rotors of his tiny craft back over +themselves and the engine, collapsed the whole thing into a manageable +packet of some seventy-five pounds, the seat now becoming a handle, +and then turned and faced Crawford. + +Donaldson screwed his wizened face into an expression of respect and +made a motion of obeisance. Then he waited. + +Isobel said, "El Hassan bids you speak." + +That was the tip-off, then. Crawford had already revealed himself to +these people as El Hassan. Very well. + +Donaldson spoke in Arabic, not knowing the Tamaheq tongue. "Aselamu, +Aleikum, El Hassan. I come to obey your wishes." + +A sigh had gone through the Tuareg. "Aiiiii." _Wallahi, even the +djinn obeyed El Hassan!_ + +With dignity, Homer Crawford said, "Keif halak, all in my house is +yours." + +Rex Donaldson inclined his small bent body again, in respect. + +Crawford said in English, "Let's not carry this _too_ far. Come on +into the tent." + +Ignoring the Tuareg, who still gaped but held their distance, the four +English-speaking Negroes headed for the larger of the two tents that +had been set up for El Hassan. + +As they passed Guémama who stood slightly aside from the other Tuareg +with his uncle Melchizedek, the Amenokal, Crawford nodded and said, +speaking to them both. "A messenger from my people to the south. +Continue with your newly arrived warriors, O Guémama." + +Cliff Jackson had picked up the folded heliohopper and was now +carrying it easily. + +Guémama looked at the device and blinked. + +Crawford refrained from laughing at his commander of irregulars. "It +is not a _kambu_ device. My people deal not in magic. It is but one of +the many of the things the new ways bring. One day, Guémama," Homer's +face remained expressionless, "perhaps you will fly thus." + +The teguelmoust hid the other's blanch. + +In the tent, Homer turned to the Bahaman, motioned to what seating +arrangements were available. + +Isobel said, "I'll get some coffee." + +Cliff blurted, "Holy Mackerel, if Donaldson, here, can drop in on us +out of a clear sky, what keeps anybody else from doing it? Somebody +with a couple of neopalm bombs in the way of calling cards." + +The dried up little man grimaced in his equivalent of a grin and said, +"Hold it, you chaps. I want to notify the others." + +"The others? What others?" Crawford said. + +Donaldson ignored him for a moment, unslung the small bag he carried +over one shoulder and dipped into it for a tiny, two-way radio. He +pressed the buzzer button, then held it up to his mouth. "Jack, Jimmy, +Dave. Here we are. Took donkey's years, but I found them. You chaps +zero-in here." He left the device on and set it to one side, then +yawned and settled himself to the rug-covered ground, crosslegged, +Dogon style. + +Homer Crawford, even as he sat down himself on a footlocker, in lieu +of a chair, rapped, "How did you find us? Who did you just radio? +Where'd you come from?" + +"I say, hold it," Donaldson chuckled sourly. "First of all, I've come +to join up. I thought as far back as that time we co-operated in +quelling the riots in Mopti that you ought to do this--proclaim +yourself El Hassan. When I heard you'd taken the step, I came to join +up." + +"Oh, great," Cliff said. "What took you so long? We hardly get here, +to our ultra-secret hideout, than here you are." + +Isobel came with the coffee and handed it around, silently. Then she, +too, settled to the rug which covered the sand of the floor. + +Rex Donaldson turned to Cliff and there was a wrinkle of amusement in +the older man's eyes. "I took so long, because I needed the time to +recruit a few other chaps I knew would stand with us." + +Crawford rapped, "That's who you just radioed?" + +"Of course, old boy. I'd hardly bring the opposition down on us, would +I?" + +"Where are they?" + +"In a couple of hovercraft, similar to your own, possibly twenty +kilometers to the southwest." + +"You still haven't told us how you found us?" + +The little man shrugged. "After tendering my resignation to Sir +Winton, I considered the possibilities, which narrowed down very +quickly when I heard the Arab Legion had taken Tamanrasset." + +"Why?" Isobel said. + +Donaldson shot a glance at her. "Because, my dear, unless El Hassan is +able to retake Tamanrasset, his movement has come a cropper." He +turned his eyes back to Crawford, who was nervously running his hand +through his hair. "I knew you had done considerable work in this area, +so your whereabouts became obvious seeing that Tamanrasset is in +Tuareg country. It was simply a matter of finding what Tuareg +encampment was your base, and since your quickest manner of gathering +support would be to swing the Amenokal to your banner, I headed for +his usual encampment this time of year." + +Cliff looked at Homer Crawford. "If Rex found us so easily, so will +anybody else." + +Isobel put in. "Not necessarily. Mr. Donaldson has information that +most of El Hassan's opponents wouldn't." + + * * * * * + +Homer came to his feet unhappily and began pacing. "No, Isobel. +Ostrander, for instance, has all the dope Rex has and is just as +capable of working it through to a conclusion. It takes no great +insight to realize El Hassan has to either put up or shut up when it +comes to Tamanrasset. That's possibly why some of the other elements +interested in North Africa have so far refrained from action against +the Arab Union. They want to see what El Hassan is going to do--find +out just what he has on the ball." + +Rex Donaldson looked at him interestedly, "And? What are your plans?" + +Homer Crawford's face worked. "My plans right at present are to stay +alive, and you finding me so easily isn't heartening. However, it +brings to mind some other problems which need solving, too." + +The rest of them fell silent, looking at him. His usual casual humor +had dropped away, and his personality gripped them. + +He stopped his pacing, and frowned down at them. + +"El Hassan is going to have to remain on the move. Always. There can +be no capital city, no definite base, and it's going to be a poor idea +to sleep twice in the same place." He shook his head emphatically as +though to deny rebuttal, which they hadn't actually made. "El Hassan's +enemies mustn't know his location within twenty miles." + +"Twenty miles!" Cliff blurted. + +Crawford stared at him, but unseeingly. "Yes. At least half a dozen of +our opponents possess nuclear weapons." + +Donaldson demured, sourly. "A nuclear weapon hasn't been exploded for +donkey's years and--" + +"Of course not," Homer snapped. "Nor would anyone dare, anywhere else +except in the wastes of the Sahara. A nuclear explosion in the Ahaggar +would not go undetected and a controversy might go up in the Reunited +Nations. But who could prove who had done it? And who, actually, would +care if in the explosion a common foe of all was eliminated? But let +the Arab Union, or possibly the Soviet Complex, or even others, learn +definitely where El Hassan is and a bomb could well devastate twenty +square miles seeking him out." Crawford shook his head. "No, we've +simply got to keep on the move." + +Donaldson said, even as he nodded agreement, "And what other problems +were you talking about?" + +"Oh?" Homer said. "Well, keeping on the move will serve to add mystery +to the El Hassan legend. It isn't good for this Tuareg encampment, +for instance, to see too much of El Hassan. A leader claiming +domination of half a continent looks small potatoes in a desert camp +of a few score tents. On the move, showing up here, there, the other +place, for only a day or two at a time, is another proposition." + +He thought a moment. "Remember DeGaulle?" + +"How could we forget?" Rex Donaldson said wryly. + +"He had one angle that couldn't be more correct. He said a leader had +to keep remote, ever mysterious. He can't afford to have real +intimates. Napoleon, Hitler, Stalin. None of them had a real friend to +their name. The nearest to friends that Adolph the Aryan ever had, his +old comrades of the beerhall days, such as Rhoem, he butchered in the +blood purge. And Stalin? He managed to do away with every Old +Bolshevik he knew in the days before the Party came to power." + +Cliff was staring at him. "Hey," he said. "The one other thing one of +these mystical leader types needs is a belief in his own destiny. To +the point of clobbering all his intimates if he thinks they stand in +his way." + +Homer broke into a sudden short laugh. "Any qualms, Cliff?" + +Cliff growled, "I don't know. This dream of yours is growing. Where it +might end--I don't know." + +As they were talking the cries of _Ul-Ul-Ul-Allah Akbar!_ had broken +out again. + +"Heavens to Betsy," Isobel said. "Another contingent of camelmen?" + + * * * * * + +But this time the newcomers were three in number and rode in air +cushion hover-lorries, the twins of that used by Homer Crawford. + +Rex Donaldson brought them up to the tent, saying, "I didn't think you +chaps were quite so close." + +Homer, Cliff and Isobel faced the new recruits. The three were dressed +in khaki bushshirts, shorts and heavy walking shoes--British style. +Two were so obviously relatives that they could have been twins except +for an age discrepancy of two or three years. They were smaller in +stature than the Americans present, almost chunky, but their faces +held education and cultivation. The third was slight of build, almost +as wiry as Rex Donaldson, and seemed ever at ease. + +The small, bent Bahaman made introductions. "Gentlemen, let me present +El Hassan--Homer Crawford to you--formerly of the Reunited Nations +African Development Project, formerly of the United States of the +Americas." His face twisted in his sour grimace of a grin. "Now +running for the office of tyrant of North Africa." + +"And these are two of his original and most trusted adherents, Isobel +Cunningham and Cliff Jackson." Donaldson turned to the newcomers. +"John and James Peters--that's Jack and Jimmy, of course--recently +colleagues of mine with the African Department of the Commonwealth, +working largely in the Nigeria area." + +Homer shook hands, grinning. "You're a long way from home." + +"Farther than that," the one labeled Jack said without a smile +changing the seriousness of his face. "We're originally from +Trinidad." + +Donaldson said, "And this is David Moroka, late of South Africa." + +The wiry South African said easily, "Not so very late. In fact, I +haven't seen Jo-burg since I was a boy." + +He was shaking hands with Isobel now. "Jo-burg?" she said. + +"Johannesburg," he translated. "I got out by the skin of my teeth +during the troubles in the 1950s." + +"You sound like an American," Cliff said when it was his turn to +shake. + +"Educated in the States," Moroka said. "Best thing that ever happened +to me was to be kicked out of the land of my birth." + +Homer made a sweeping gesture at the floor and the few articles of +furniture the tent contained that could be improvised as chairs. "I'm +surprised you're up here instead of in your own neck of the woods," he +said to the South African. + +Moroka shrugged. "I was considering heading south when I ran into +Jimmy and Jack, here. They'd already got the word on the El Hassan +movement from Rex. Their arguments made sense to me." + +Eyes went to the brothers from Trinidad and Jack Peters took over the +position of spokesman. He said, seriously, as though trying to +convince the others, "North Africa is the starting point, the +beginning. Given El Hassan's success in uniting North Africa, the +central areas and later even the south will fall into line. Perhaps +one day there will be a union of _all_ Africa." + +"Or at least a strong confederation," Jimmy Peters added. + +Homer nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps. But we can't look that far +forward now." He looked from one of the newcomers to the other. "I +don't know to what extent you fellows understand what the rest of us +have set out to accomplish but I suppose if you've been with Rex for +the past week, you have a fairly clear idea." + +"I believe so," Jack nodded, straight-faced. + +Homer Crawford said slowly, "I don't want to give you the wrong idea. +If you join up, you'll find it's no parade. Our chances were slim to +begin, and we've had some setbacks. As you've probably heard, the Arab +Union has stolen a march on us. And from what we can get on the radio, +we have thus far to pick up a single adherent among the world powers." + +"_Powers?_" Cliff snorted. "We haven't got a nation the size of Monaco +on our side." + +Moroka shot a quick glance at the big Californian. + +Isobel caught it and laughed. "Cliff's a perpetual sourpuss," she +said. "However, he's been in since the first." + +The South African looked at her in turn. "We were hardly prepared to +find a beautiful American girl in the Great Erg," he said. + +Something about his voice caused her to flush. "We've all caught +Homer's dream," she said, almost defensively. + + * * * * * + +David Moroka flung to his feet, viper fast, and dashed toward Homer +Crawford, his hands extended. + +Automatically, Cliff Jackson stuck forward a foot in an attempt to +trip him--and missed. + +The South African, moving with blurring speed, grasped the +unsuspecting Crawford by the right hand and arm, swung with fantastic +speed and sent the American sprawling to the far side of the tent. + +Homer Crawford, old in rough and tumble, was already rolling out. +Before the inertia of his fall had given way, his right hand, only a +split second before in the grip of the other, was fumbling for the 9 +mm Noiseless holstered at his belt. + +Rex Donaldson, a small handgun magically in his hand, was standing, +half crouched on his thin, bent legs. The two brothers from Trinidad +hadn't moved, their eyes bugging. + +Moroka was spinning with the momentum of the sudden attack he'd made +on his new chief. Now there was a gun in his own hand and he was +darting for the tent opening. + +Cliff yelled indignantly, "Stop him!" + +Isobel, on her feet by now, both hands to her mouth, was staring at +the goatskin tent covering, against which, a moment earlier, Crawford +had been gently leaning his back as he talked. + +There was a vicious slash in the leather and even as she pointed, the +razor-sharp arm dagger's blade disappeared. There was the sound of +running feet outside the tent. + +Homer Crawford had assimilated the situation before the rest. He, too, +was darting for the tent entrance, only feet behind Moroka. + +Donaldson followed, muttering bitterly under his breath, his face +twisted more as though in distaste than in fighting anger. + +Cliff, too, finally saw light and dashed after the others, leaving +only Isobel and the Peters brothers. They heard the muffled coughing +of a silenced gun, twice, thrice and then half a dozen times, blurting +together in automatic fire. + +Homer Crawford shuffled through the sand on an awkward run, rounding +the tent, weapon in hand. + +There was a native on the ground making final spasmatic muscular +movements in his death throes, and not more than three feet from him, +coolly, David Moroka sat, bracing his elbows on his knees and aiming, +two-handed, as his gun emptied itself. + +Crawford brought his own gun up, seeking the target, and clipping at +the same time, "We want him alive--" + +It was too late. Two hundred feet beyond, a running tribesman, long +arm dagger still in hand, stumbled, ran another three or four feet +with hesitant steps, and then collapsed. + +Moroka said, "Too late, Crawford. He would have got away." The South +African started to his feet, brushing sand from his khaki bush +shorts. + +The others were beginning to come up and from the Tuareg encampment a +rush of Guémama's men started in their direction. + +Crawford said unhappily, looking down at the dead native at their +feet, "I hate to see unnecessary killing." + +Moroka looked at him questioningly. "Unnecessary? Another split second +and his knife would have been in your gizzard. What do you want to +give him, another chance?" + +Crawford said uncomfortably, "Thanks, Dave, anyway. That was quick +thinking." + +"Thank God," Donaldson said, coming up, his wrinkled face scowling +unhappily, first at the dead man at their feet, and then at the one +almost a hundred yards away. "Are these local men? Where were your +bodyguards?" + +Cliff Jackson skidded to a halt, after rounding the tent. He'd heard +only the last words. "What bodyguards?" he said. + +Moroka looked at Crawford accusingly. "El Hassan," he said. "Leader of +all North Africa. And you haven't even got around to bodyguards? Do +you fellows think you're playing children's games? Gentlemen, I assure +you, the chips are down." + + +VI + +El Hassan's Tuaregs were on the move. After half a century and more of +relative peace the Apaches of the Sahara, the Sons of Shaitan and the +Forgotten of Allah were again disappearing into the ergs to emerge +here, there, and ghostlike to disappear again. They faded in and faded +away again, and even in their absence dominated all. + +El Hassan was on the move, as all men by now knew, and he, who was not +for the amalgamation of all North Africa, was judged against him. And +who, in the Sahara, could afford to be against El Hassan when his +Tuaregs were everywhere? + +Refugees poured into Tamanrasset for the security of Arab Legion arms, +or into In Salah and Reggan to the north, or Agades and Zinder to the +south. Refugees who had already taken their stand with the Arab Union +and Pan-Islam. Refugees who were men of property and would know more +of this El Hassan before risking their wealth. Refugees who took no +stand, but dreaded those who drank the milk of war, no matter the +cause for which they fought. Refugees who fled simply because others +fled, for terror is a most contagious disease. + +Colonel Midan Ibrahim of the crack motorized units of the Arab Legion +which occupied Tamanrasset, was fuming. His task was a double one. +First, to hold Tamanrasset and its former French stronghold Fort +Laperrine; second, to keep open his lines of communication with +Ghademès and Ghat, in Arab Union dominated Libya. To hold them until +further steps were decided upon by his superiors in Cairo and the +Near East--whatever these steps might be. Colonel Midan Ibrahim was +too low in the Arab Union hierarchy to be in on such privy matters. + +His original efforts, in pushing across the Sahara from Ghademès and +Ghat, had been no more than desert maneuvers. There had been no force +other than nature's to say him nay. The Reunited Nations was an +organization composed possibly of great powers, but in supposedly +acting in unison they became a shrieking set of hair-tearing women; +the whole being less than any of its individual parts. And El Hassan? +No more than a rumor. In fact, an asset because this supposed mystery +man of the desert, bent on uniting all North Africa under his +domination, gave the Arab Union, its alibi for stepping in with +Colonel Ibrahim's men. + +Yes, the original efforts had been but a drill. But now his Arab +Legion troopers were beginning to face reality. The supply trucks, +coming down under convoy from Ghademès, reported the water source at +Ohanet destroyed. The major well would take a week or more to repair. +Who had committed the sabotage? Some said the Tuareg, some said local +followers of El Hassan, others, desert tribesmen resentful of _both_ +the Arab Union and El Hassan. + +One of his routine patrols, feeling out toward Meniet to the north, +had suddenly dropped radio communication, almost in mid-sentence. A +relieving patrol had thus far found nothing, the armored car's tracks +covered over by the sands. + +[Illustration] + +And rumors, rumors, rumors, Colonel Midan Ibrahim, born of +aristocratic Alexandrian blood, though trained to a sharp edge in Near +Eastern warfare, was basically city bred. The gloss of desert training +might take on him, but the bedouin life itself was not in his +experience, and it was hard for him to trace the dividing line between +possibility and fantasy. + +Rumors, rumors, rumors. They seemed capable of sweeping from one end +of the Sahara to the other in a matter of hours. Faster, it would seem +than the information could be dispensed by radio. El Hassan was here. +El Hassan was there. El Hassan was marching on Rabat, in Morocco; El +Hassan had just signed a treaty with the Soviet Complex; El Hassan had +been assassinated by a disgruntled follower. Or El Hassan was a +renegade Christian; El Hassan was a Moslem of Sheriffian blood, a +direct descendant of the Prophet; El Hassan was a pagan come up from +Dahomey and practiced ritual cannibalism; El Hassan was a Jew, a +veteran of the Israel debacle. + +But this Colonel Ibrahim knew--the Tuareg had gone over to the new +movement en masse. Something there was in El Hassan and his dream that +had appealed to the Forgotten of Allah. The Tuareg, for the first time +since the French Camel Corps had broken their strength, were +united--united and on the move. + +The Tuareg were everywhere. In most sinister fashion--everywhere. And +all were El Hassan's men. + +Colonel Ibrahim fumed and wondered what kept his superiors from +sending in additional columns, additional armored elements. And, above +all, adequate air cover. Ha! Give the colonel sufficient aircraft and +he'd begin snuffing out bedouin life like candles--and bring the Peace +of Allah to the Ahaggar. + +So Colonel Ibrahim fumed, demanded further orders from mum superiors, +and put his legionnaires to work on bigger and better gun +emplacements, trenches and pillboxes surrounding Fort Laperinne and +Tamanrasset. + + * * * * * + +El Hassan's personal entourage numbered exactly twenty persons. Of +these, five were his immediate English-speaking, Western-educated +supporters, Cliff, Isobel and the new Jack and Jimmy Peters and Dave +Moroka. Rex Donaldson had been sent south again to operate in Senegal +and Mali, to take over direction of the rapidly spreading movement in +such centers as Bamako and Mopti and later, if possible, in Dakar. + +The other fifteen were carefully selected Tuareg, picked from among +Guémama's tribesmen taking care to show no preference to any tribe or +clan, and taking particular care to choose men who fought coolly, +unexcitedly, and didn't froth at the mouth when in action; men who +were slow to charge wildly into the enemy's guns--but slower still to +retreat when the going was hot. El Hassan was prone to neither hero +nor coward in his personal bodyguard. + +They kept under movement. In Abelessa one day, almost in range of the +mobile artillery of the Arab Legion; in Timassao the next, checking +the wells that meant everything to a desert force; the following day +as far south as the Tamesna region to rally the less warlike +Irreguenaten, a half-breed Tuareg people largely held in scorn by +those of the Ahaggar. + +Homer Crawford was killing time whilst stirring up as much noise and +dust as his handful of followers could manage. Killing time until +Elmer Allen from the Chaambra country, Bey-ag-Akhamouk from the Teda, +and Kenny Ballalou from the west could show up with their columns. He +had no illusions of how things now stood. At best, he could hold +together a thousand Tuareg fighting men. No more. The economics of +desert life prevented him a larger force, unless he had the resources +of the modern world at hand, and he didn't. Besides that, the Tuareg +confederation could provide no larger number of fighting men and at +the same time continue their desert economy. + +He stood now with Isobel, Cliff and Dave Moroka in one of the western +type tents which the Peters brothers had brought with them in their +hover-lorries, and poured over the half-adequate maps which covered +the area. + +Dave Moroka traced with a finger. "If we could dominate these wells +running to Djanet, our Arab Union friends would have only their one +line of supply going through Temassinine to Ghademès. That's a long +haul, Homer." + +Homer Crawford scowled thoughtfully. "That involves only four wells. +If Ibrahim's legionnaires staked out only three armored vehicles at +each water hole, they could hold them. Our camelmen could never take +armor." + +Moroka frowned, too. "We've got to start _some_ sort of action, or the +men will start dribbling away." + +Cliff Jackson said, "Bey and Kenny and Elmer should be coming soon. I +heard a radio item this morning about a big pro-El Hassan movement +starting in the Sudan among the Teda." + +Moroka said, "We need some sort of quick, spectacular victory. The +bedouin can lose interest as quickly as they can get steamed up, and +thus far we haven't given them anything but words--promises." + +"You're right," Homer growled, "but there's nothing we can do right +now but mark time. Irritate the Arabs a bit. Keep them from spreading +out." + +Isobel brought coffee, handing around the small Moroccan cups. She +said, "Well, one thing is certain. We get supplies soon or start +eating jerked goat and camel milk curds." + +Moroka said in irritation, "It's not funny." + +Isobel raised her eyebrows. "I didn't mean it to be. Have you ever +been on a camel curd diet?" + +"Yes, I have," Moroka said impatiently. He turned back to Homer +Crawford. "How about waylaying an armored car or so, just in the way +of giving the men something exciting to do?" + +Crawford ran a hand back through his short hair. "Confound it, Dave, +can you picture what a Recoilless-Brenn gun would do to a harka of our +charging camelmen? We can't let these people be butchered." + +"I wasn't thinking of wild charges," Moroka argued. + +They had both turned away from Isobel, in their discussion. Now she +looked at them, strangely. And especially at Homer Crawford. His +brusqueness toward her didn't seem the old Homer. + + * * * * * + +There was a bustle from outside and a guardsman stuck his head in the +tent entrance and reported in Tamaheq that a small camel patrol +approached. + +The four of them went out. Coming up were a dozen Tuareg and two motor +vehicles. + +Cliff said, "Something new." + +Moroka said, "We can use the transport." + +"Let's see who they are, before we start requisitioning their +property," Homer said dryly. + +The two desert trucks had hardly come to a halt before the camouflaged +tents and hover-lorries of El Hassan's small encampment before a +heavy-set, gray haired Negro, whose energy belied his weight, bounced +down from the seat adjacent to the driver's in the lead vehicle and +stomped belligerently to the group before the tent. + +"What is the meaning of this?" he snapped. + +Homer Crawford looked at him. "I'm sure I don't know as yet, Dr. +Smythe. Neither you nor these followers of mine have informed me as to +what has transpired. Won't you enter my quarters here and we'll go +into it under more comfortable conditions?" He glanced upward at the +midday Saharan sun. + +The other seemed taken aback at Crawford calling him by name. He +squinted at the man who was seemingly his captor. + +"Crawford!" he snapped. "Dr. Homer Crawford! See here, what is the +meaning of this?" + +Homer said, "Dr. Warren Harding Smythe, may I present Isobel +Cunningham, Clifford Jackson and David Moroka, of my staff?" + +"Huuump. I met Miss Cunningham and, I believe, Mr. Jackson at that +ridiculous meeting in Timbuktu, a short time ago." The doctor peered +over his glasses at Moroka. + +The wiry South African nodded his head. "A pleasure, Doctor." He held +open the tent entrance. + +Smythe snorted again and stomped inside to escape the sun's glare. + +In the shade of the tent's interior, Isobel clucked at him and hurried +to get a drink of water from a moist water cooler. Homer Crawford +motioned the other to a seat, and took one himself. "Now then, Dr. +Smythe." + +The indignant medic blurted, "Those confounded bandits out there--" + +"Irregular camel cavalry," Crawford amended gently. + +"They've kidnapped me and my staff. I demand that you intercede, if +you have any influence with them." + +"What were you doing?" Crawford was frowning at the other. Actually, +he had no idea of the circumstances under which the probably +overenthusiastic Tuareg troopers had rounded up the American medical +man. + +"Doing? You know perfectly well I represent the American Medical +Relief. My team has been in the vicinity of Silet, working with the +nomads. The country is rife with everything from rickets to syphilis! +Eighty per cent of these people suffer from trachoma. My team--" + +"Just a moment," Moroka said. "You mean out in those two trucks you +have a complete American medical setup? Assistants and all?" + +Smythe said stiffly, "I have two American nurses with me and four +Algerians recruited in Oran. This sort of interference with my work is +insufferable and--" + +The South African was staring at Homer Crawford. + +Cliff Jackson cleared his throat. "It seems as though El Hassan has +just acquired a Department of Health." + +"El Hassan?" Smythe stuttered. "What, what?" + +Isobel said softly, "Dr. Smythe, surely you have heard of El Hassan." + +"Heard of him? I've heard of nothing else for the past month! +Confounded ignorant barbarian. What this part of the world needs is +_less_ intertribal, interracial, international fighting, not more. The +man's a raving lunatic and--" + +Isobel said gently, "Doctor ... may I introduce you to El Hassan?" + +"What ... what--?" For the briefest of moments, there was an element +of timorness in the sputtering doctor's voice. Then suddenly he +comprehended. + +He pointed at Homer Crawford accusingly. "You're El Hassan!" + +Homer nodded, seriously, "That's correct, Doctor." + +The doctor's eyes went around the four of them. "You've done what you +were driving at there at that meeting in Timbuktu. You're trying to +unite these people in spite of themselves and then drag them, +willy-nilly, into the twentieth century." + +Homer still nodded. + +Smythe shook an indignant finger at him. "I told you then, Crawford, +and I tell you now. These natives are not suited for such sudden +change. Already they are subject to mass neurosis because they cannot +adjust to a world that changes too quickly." + +"I wonder if that doesn't apply to the rest of us as well," Cliff said +unhappily. "But the changes go on, if we like them or not. Can you +think of any way to turn them off?" + +The doctor snorted. + +Homer Crawford said, "Dr. Smythe, the die is already cast. The +question now becomes, will you join us?" + +"Join you! Certainly not!" + +Crawford said evenly, "Then I might suggest that, first, you will not +be allowed to operate in my territory." He considered for a moment, +grinning inwardly, but on the surface his expression serene. He added, +"And second, that you will probably have difficulties procuring an +exit visa from my domains." + +"Exit visa! Are you jesting? See here, my good man, you realize I am a +citizen of the United States of the Americas and--" + +"A country," Homer yawned, "with which I have not as yet opened +diplomatic relations, and hence has little representation in North +Africa." + +The doctor was bug-eying him. He began sputtering again. "This isn't +funny. You're an American citizen yourself. And you, Miss Cunningham +and--" + +Isobel said sadly, "As a matter of fact, the last we heard, the State +Department representative told us our passports were invalid." + +Crawford leaned forward. "Look here, Doctor. You don't see eye to eye +with us on matters socio-economic. However, as a medical man, I submit +that joining my group ... ah, that is, until you can secure an exit +visa from my authorities ... will give you an excellent opportunity to +practice your science here in the Sahara under the wing of El Hassan. +I'll assign a place for your trucks and tents. Please consider the +question and let me have your answer at your leisure. Meanwhile, we +will prepare a desert feast suitable to the high esteem in which we +hold you." + + * * * * * + +They looked after the doctor, as he left, and Moroka chuckled. +However, Isobel was watching Homer Crawford quizzically. + +She said finally, "We rode over him a little in the roughshod manner, +didn't we?" + +Homer Crawford growled uncomfortably, "Particularly when we finally +have our showdown with the Arab Legion, a medic will be priceless." + +Isobel said softly, "And the end justifies the means--" + +Homer shot a quick, impatient look at her. "The good doctor and his +people are in the Sahara to work with the Tuareg and the Teda and the +rest of the bedouin. Beyond that, he has the same dream we have--of +developing this continent of our racial background." + +"But he doesn't believe in your methods, Homer, and we're forcing him +to follow El Hassan's road in spite of his beliefs." + +Moroka had been peering at the two of them narrowly. "You don't make +omelets without breaking eggs," he said, his voice on the overbearing +side. + +She spun on him. "But the omelets don't turn out so well if some of +the eggs you use are rotten." + +The South African's voice turned gentle. "Miss Cunningham," he said, +"working in the field, like this, can have its rugged side for a young +and delicate woman--" + +"_Delicate!_" she snapped. "I'll have you know--" + +"Hey, everybody, hold it," Cliff injected. "What goes on?" + +Dave Moroka shrugged. "It just seems to me that Isobel might do better +back in Dakar, or in New York with your friend Jake Armstrong. +Somewhere where her sensibilities wouldn't be so bruised, and where +her assets"--his eyes went up and down her lithe body--"could be put +to better use." + +Isobel's sepia face had gone a shade or more lighter. She said, very +flatly, "My assets, Mr. Moroka, are in my head." + +Homer Crawford said disgustedly, "O.K., O.K., let's all knock it off." + +His eyes flicked back and forth between them, in definite command. "I +don't want to hear any more in the way of personalities between you +two." + +Moroka shrugged again. "Yes, sir," he said without inflection. + +Isobel turned away and took up some paperwork, without further words. +She suppressed her feeling of seething indignation. + +Homer Crawford, under his pressures, was changing. Possibly, she had +told herself before, it was change for the better. The need was for a +_strong_ man, perhaps even a ruthless one. + +The Homer Crawford she had first known was an easier going man than +he who had snapped an abrupt order to her a moment ago. The Homer she +had first known requested things of his teammates and friends. El +Hassan had learned to command. + +The Homer she had first known could never have ridden, roughshod, over +the basically gentle Dr. Smythe. + +The Homer she had first known, when the El Hassan scheme was still +aborning, had thought of himself as a member of a team. He was quick +to ask advice of all, and quick to take it if it had validity. Now +Homer, as El Hassan, was depending less and less upon the opinions of +those surrounding him, more and more upon his own decisions which he +seemed to sometimes reach purely through intuition. + +The El Hassan dream was still upon her, but, womanlike, she wondered +if she liked the would-be tyrant of all North Africa as well as she +had once liked the easy-going American idealist, Homer Crawford. + +Jack and Jimmy Peters, the brothers from Trinidad, entered, the former +carrying a couple of books. + +They'd evidently failed to note the raised voices and wore their +customary serious expressions. Jack looked at Homer and said, "_Cu vi +scias Esperanton?_" + +Homer Crawford's eyebrows went up but he said, "_Jes, mi parolas +Esperanto tre bona, mi pensas._" + +"_Bona_," Jack said, "_Tre bona_." + +"_Jes, estas bele_," his brother said. + +Moroka was scowling back and forth from one of them to the other. "I +thought I had a fairly good working knowledge of the world's more +common languages," he said, "but that goes by me. It sounds like a +cross between Italian and pig-Latin." + +Homer said to the Peters brothers, "Let's drop Esperanto so that Dave, +Isobel and Cliff can follow us. We can give it a whirl later, if you'd +like, just for the practice." + +Isobel said slowly, "_Mi parolas Esperanto, malgranda_." Then in +English, "I took it for kicks while I was still in school. Kind of +rusty now, though." + +"Esperanto?" Cliff said. "You mean that gobblydygook so-called +international language?" + +Jack Peters looked at him, serious faced as always. "What is wrong +with an international language, Mr. Jackson?" + +Cliff was taken aback. "Search me. But it doesn't seem to have proved +very practical. It didn't catch on." + +"Well, more than you might think," Isobel told him. "There are +probably hundreds of thousands of persons in one part of the world or +another who can get along in Esperanto." + +Moroka said impatiently, "What're a few hundred thousands of people in +a world population like ours? Cliff's right. It never took hold." + +Homer said, "All right, Jack and Jimmy. You boys evidently have +something on your minds. Let everybody sit down and listen to it." + + * * * * * + +Even before they got thoroughly settled, Jack Peters was launching +into his pitch. + +"We need an official language," he said. "The El Hassan movement has +set as a goal the uniting of all North Africa. We might start here in +the Sahara, but it's just a start. Ultimately, the idea is to reach +from Morocco to Egypt and from the Mediterranean to ... to where? The +Congo?" + +"Actually, we've never set exact limits," Homer said. + +"Ultimately _all Africa_," Dave Moroka muttered softly. He ignored the +manner in which Isobel contemplated him from the side of her eyes. + +"All right," the West Indian said. "There are more than seven hundred +major languages, not counting dialects, in Africa. Sooner or later, we +need an official language, what is it going to be?" + +"Why _one_ official language? Why not several?" Cliff scowled. "Say +Arabic, here in this area. Swahili on the East coast. And, say, +Songhoi along the Niger, and Wolof, the Senegalese lingua franca, +and--" + +"You see," Peters interrupted. "Already you have half a dozen and you +haven't even got out of this immediate vicinity as yet. Let me develop +my point." + +Homer Crawford was becoming interested. "Go on, Jack," he said. + +Jack Peters pointed a finger at him. "To be the hero-symbol we have in +mind, El Hassan is going to have to be able to communicate with _all_ +of his people. He's not going to be able to speak Arabic to, say, a +Masai in Kenya. They hate the Arabs. He's not going to be able to +speak Swahili to a Moroccan, they've never heard of the language. He +can't speak Tamaheq to the Imraguen, they're scared to death of the +Tuareg." + +Homer said thoughtfully, "A common language would be fine. It'd solve +a lot of problems. But it doesn't seem to be in the cards. Why not +adopt as our official language the one in which the _most_ of our +people will be able to communicate? Say, Arabic?" + +Jack was shaking his head seriously. "And antagonize all the Arab +hating Bantu in Africa? It's no go, Homer." + +"Well, then, say French--or English." + +"English is the most international language in the world," Moroka +said. But his face was thoughtful, as those of the others were +becoming. + +The West Indian was beginning to make his points now. "No, any of the +European languages are out. The white man has been repudiated. +Adopting English, French, Spanish, Portuguese or Dutch, as our +official language would antagonize whole sections of the continent." + +"Why Esperanto?" Cliff scowled. "Why not, say, Nov-Esperanto, or Ido, +or Interlingua?" + +Jimmy Peters put in a word now. "Actually, any one of them would +possibly do, but we have a head start with Esperanto. Some years ago +both Jack and I became avid Esperantists, being naïve enough in those +days to think an international language would ultimately solve all +man's problems. And both Homer and Isobel seem to have a working +knowledge of the language." + +Homer said, "So have the other members of my former Reunited Nations team. +That's where those books you found came from. Elmer, Bey, Kenny ... and +Abe ... and I used to play around with it when we were out in the desert, +just to kill time. We also used it as sort of a secret language when we +wanted to communicate and didn't know if those around us might understand +some English." + +"I still don't get the picture," Cliff argued. "If we picked the most +common half a dozen languages in the territory we cover, then millions +of these people wouldn't have to study a second language. But if you +adapt Esperanto as an official language then _everybody_ is going to +have to learn something new. And that's not going to be easy for our +ninety-five per cent illiterate followers." + +Isobel said thoughtfully, "Well, it's a darn sight easier to learn +Esperanto than any other language we decided to make official." + +"Why?" Cliff said argumentatively. + + * * * * * + +Jack Peters took over. "Because it's almost unbelievably easy to +learn. English, by the way, is extremely difficult. For instance, +spelling and pronunciation are absolutely phonetic in Esperanto and +there are only five vowel sounds where most national languages have +twenty or so. And each sound in the alphabet has one sound only and +any sound is always rendered by the same letter." + +Dave Moroka said, "Actually, I don't know anything at all about this +Esperanto." + +The West Indian took him in, with a dominating glance. "Take grammar and +syntax which can take up volumes in other languages. Esperanto has exactly +sixteen short rules. And take vocabularies. For instance, in English we +often form the feminine of a noun by adding _ess--actor-actress_, +_tiger-tigress_. But not always. We don't say _bull-bulless_ or +_ghost-ghostess_. In Esperanto you simply add the feminine ending to any +noun--there's no exception to any rule." + +Jack Peters was caught up in his subject. "Still comparing it to +English, realize that spelling and pronunciation in English are highly +irregular and one letter can have several different sounds, and one +sound may be represented by different letters. And there are even +silent letters which are written but not pronounced like the _ugh_ in +_though_. There are none of these irregularities in Esperanto. And the +sounds are all sharp with none of such subtle differences as, say, +_bed/bad/bard/bawd_, that sort of thing." + +Jimmy Peters said, "The big item is that any averagely intelligent +person can begin speaking Esperanto within a few hours. Within a week +of even moderate study, say three or four hours a day, he's +astonishingly fluent." + +[Illustration] + +Isobel said thoughtfully, "There'd be international advantages. It's +always been a galling factor in Africans dealing with Europeans that +they had to learn the European language involved. You couldn't expect +your white man to learn kitchen kaffir, or Swahili, or whatever, not +when you got on the diplomatic level." + +Cliff Jackson was thinking out loud. "So far, El Hassan is an unknown. +Rumor has it that he's everything from a renegade Egyptian, to an +escaped Mau-Mau chief, to a Senegalese sergeant formerly in the French +West African forces. But when he starts running into the press and +they find that Homer and his closest associates all speak English, and +most of them with an American accent, there's going to be some fat in +the fire." + +"And El Hassan will have lost some of his mysterious glamour," Homer +added thoughtfully. + +Even Moroka, the South African, was beginning to accept the idea. "If +El Hassan, himself, refused in the presence of foreigners ever to +speak anything but Esperanto, the aura of mystery would continue." + +Jimmy Peters, elaborating and obviously pushing an opinion he and his +brother had already discussed, said, "We make it a rule that every +school, both locally taught and foreign, must teach Esperanto as a +required subject. All El Hassan governmental affairs would be +conducted in that language. Anybody at all trying to get anywhere in +the new regime would have to learn the official inter-African tongue." + +"Oh, brother," Cliff groaned, "that means me." He brightened. "We +haven't any books or anything, as yet." + +Isobel laughed at him. "I'll take on your studies, Cliff. We have a +few books. Those that Homer and his team used to kill time with. And +as soon as we're in a position to make requests for foreign aid of the +great powers, Esperanto grammars, dictionaries and so forth can be +high on the list." + +With a sharp cry, almost a bark, a figure jumped into the entrance and +with a bound into the center of the tent, sub-machinegun in hand. +"_All right, everybody. On your feet. The place is raided!_" + +Dave Moroka leaped to his feet, his hand tearing with blurring speed +for his holstered hand gun. "Where's that bodyguard?" he yelled. + + +VII + +"Hold it," Homer Crawford roared, jumping to his own feet and grabbing +the South African in his arms. He glared at the newcomer. "Kenny, you +idiot, you're lucky you don't have a couple of holes in you." + +Kenny Ballalou, grinning widely, stared at Dave Moroka. "Jeepers," he +said, "you got that gun out fast. Don't you ever stick 'em up when +somebody has the drop on you?" + +Dave Moroka relaxed, the side arm dropping back into its holster. +Homer Crawford released him and the South African ran a hand over his +mouth and shook his head ruefully at Kenny. + +Isobel and Cliff crowded up, the one to kiss Kenny happily, the other +to pound him on the back. + +Homer made introductions to Dave Moroka and the Peters brothers. + +"I've told you about Kenny," he wound it up. "I sent him over to the +west to raise a harka of Nemadi to help in taking Tamanrasset." He +joined Cliff Jackson in giving the smaller man an affectionate blow on +the shoulder. "What luck did you have, Kenny?" + +Kenny Ballalou rubbed himself ruefully. "If you two will stop beating, +I'll tell you. I didn't recruit a single Nemadi." + +Homer Crawford looked at him. + +Kenny said to the tent at large. "Anybody got a drink around here? +Good grief, have I been covering ground." + +Isobel bustled off to a corner where she'd amassed most of their +remaining European type supplies, but she kept her attention on him. + +Dave Moroka said, his voice unbelieving, "You mean you haven't brought +any assistance _at all_?" + +Kenny grinned around at them. "I didn't say that. I said I didn't +recruit any of the Nemadi. I never even got as far as their +territory." + +Homer Crawford sank back onto the small crate he'd been using as a +chair before Kenny's precipitate entrance. "O.K.," he said, "stop +dramatizing and let us know what happened." + +Kenny spread his hands in a sweeping gesture. "The country's alive +from here to Bidon Cinq and south to the Niger. Bourem and Gao have +gone over to El Hassan and a column of followers was descending on +Niamey. They should be there by now. I never got as far as Nemadi +country. I could have recruited ten thousand fighting men, but I +didn't know what we'd do with them in this country. So I weeded +through everybody who volunteered and took only veterans. Men who'd +formerly been in the French forces, or British, or whatever. Louis +Wallington and his team were in Bourem when I got there and--" + +"Who is Louis Wallington?" Jack Peters said. + +Homer looked over at the Peters brothers and Dave Moroka. "Head of a +six-man Sahara Development Project team like the one I used to head." +His eyes went back to Kenny. "What about Louis?" + +"He's come in with us. Didn't know how to get in touch, so he was +working on his own. And Pierre Dupaine. Remember him, the fellow from +Guadeloupe in the French West Indies, used to be an operative of the +African Affairs sector of the French Community? Well, he and a half +dozen of his colleagues have come in and were leading an expedition on +Timbuktu. But Timbuktu had already joined up too, before they got +there--" + +"Wow," Homer said. "It's really spreading." + +Cliff said, "Why isn't all this on the radio?" + +Isobel had brought Kenny a couple of ounces of cognac from their +meager supply. He knocked it back thankfully. + +Kenny said to Cliff, "Things are moving too fast, and communications +have gone to pot." He looked at Homer. "Have any of these journalists +found you yet?" + +"What journalists?" + +Kenny laughed. "You'll find out. Half the newspapers, magazines, +newsreels and TV outfits in the world are sending every man they can +release into this area. They're going batty trying to find El Hassan. +Man, do you realize the extent of the country your followers now +dominate?" + +Homer said blankly, "I hadn't thought of it. Besides, most of what +you've been saying is news to us here. We've been keeping on the +prod." + +Kenny grinned widely. "Well, the nearest I can figure it, El Hassan is +ruler of an area about the size of Mexico. At least it was yesterday. +By today, you can probably tack on Texas." + +Jimmy Peters, serious faced as usual, said, "Things are moving so +fast, we're going to have to run to keep ahead of El Hassan's +followers. One thing, Homer, we're going to have to have a press +secretary." + +"Elmer Allen was going to handle that, but he's still up north," +Isobel said. + +"I'll do it. Used to be a newspaperman, when I was younger," Dave +Moroka said quickly. + +Isobel frowned and began to say something, but Homer said, "Great, you +handle that, Dave." Then to Kenny, "Where're your men and how well are +they armed?" + +"Well, that's one trouble," Kenny said unhappily. "We requisitioned +motor transport from some of the Sahara Afforestation Project oases +down around Tessalit. In fact, Ralph Sandell, their chief mucky-muck +in those parts, has come over to us. But we haven't got much in the +way of shooting irons." + +Homer Crawford closed his eyes wearily. "What it boils down to, still, +is that a hundred of those Arab Legionnaires, with their armor, could +finish us all off in ten minutes if it came to open battle." + + * * * * * + +El Hassan continued moving his headquarters, usually daily, but he +eluded the journalists only another twelve hours. Then they were upon +the mobile camp like locusts. + +And David Moroka took over with a calm efficiency that impressed all. +In the first place, he explained, El Hassan was much too busy to +handle the press except for one conference a week. In the second +place, he spoke only Esperanto to foreigners. Meanwhile, he, Dave +Moroka, would handle all their questions, make arrangements for +suitable photographs, and for the TV and newsreel boys to trundle +their equipment as near the front lines as possible. And, meanwhile, +James and John Peters of El Hassan's staff had prepared press releases +covering the El Hassan movement and its program. + +Homer, to the extent possible, was isolated from the new elements +descending upon his encampment. Attempting anything else would have +been out of the question. At this point, he was getting approximately +four hours of sleep a night. + +Kenny Ballalou was continually coming and going in a mad attempt to +handle the logistics of supplying several thousand men in a desert +area all but devoid of either water or graze, not to speak of food, +petroleum products and ammunition. + +Isobel and Cliff were thrown into the positions of combination +secretaries, ministers of finance, assistant bodyguards, and all else +that nobody else seemed to handle, _including_ making coffee. + +It was Isobel who approached a subject which had long worried her, as +they drove across country, the only occupants of one of the original +hover-lorries, during a camp move. + +She said, hesitantly, "Homer, is it a good idea to give Dave such a +free hand with the press? You know, there are some fifty or so of them +around now and they must be influencing the TV, radio, magazines and +newspapers of the world." + +"He seems to know more about it than any of the rest of us," Homer +said, his eyes on the all but sand-obliterated way. "We're going to +have to move more of the men south. We simply haven't got water enough +for them. There'd be enough in Tamanrasset, but not out here. Make a +note to cover this with Kenny. I wonder where Bey is, and Elmer." + +Isobel made a note. She said, "Yes, but the trouble is, he's a +comparative newcomer. Are you _sure_ he's in complete accord with the +original plan, Homer? Does the El Hassan dream mean the same to him as +it does to you, and ... well, me?" + +He shot her an impatient glance, even as he hit the lift lever to +raise them over a small dune. "You and Dave don't hit it off very +well. He's a good man, so far as I can see." + +Her delicate forehead wrinkled and her pixie face showed puzzlement. +"I don't know why. I get along with most people, Homer." + +He patted her hand. "You can't please everybody, Isobel. Listen, +something's got to be done about this king-size mob of camp followers +we've got. Did you know Common Europe sent in a delegation this +morning?" + +"Delegation? Common Europe--?" + +"Yeah. Haven't had time to discuss it with you. They found us just +before we raised camp. Evidently, the British Commonwealth and +possibly the Soviet Complex--some Chinese, I think--are also trying to +locate us. Half of these people are without their own equipment and +supplies, but that's not what worries me right now. We used to be able +to camouflage our headquarters camp. Dig into the desert and avoid the +aircraft. But if a group of bungling Common Market diplomats can +locate us, what's to keep the Arab Legion from doing it and blessing +us with a stick of neopalm bombs?" + +Isobel said, "Look, before we leave Dave. Did you know he was +confiscating all radio equipment brought into our camp by the newsmen +and whoever else?" + +Homer frowned. "Well, why?" + +"Espionage, Dave says. He's afraid some of these characters might be +in with the Arab Union and inform on us." + +"Well, that makes some sense," Homer nodded. + +"Does it?" Isobel grumbled. + +He shot an irritated glance at her again and said impatiently, "Can't +the poor guy do anything right?" + +"My woman's intuition is working," Isobel grumbled. + + * * * * * + +Dave Moroka came into headquarters tent without introduction. He was +one of the half dozen who had permission for this. He had a sheaf of +papers in his left hand and was frowning unhappily. + +"What's the crisis?" Homer said. + +"Scouts coming up say your pal Bey-ag-Akhamouk is on the way. +Evidently, with a big harka of Teda from the Sudan." + +"Great." Homer crowed. "Now we'll get going." + +"Ha!" Dave said. "From what we hear, a good many are camel mounted. +How are we going to feed them? Already some of the Songhai Kenny +brought up from the south have drifted away, unhappy about supplies." + +"Bey's a top man," Homer told him. "The best. He'll have some ideas on +our tactics. Meanwhile, we can turn over most of his men to one of the +new recruits, and head them down to take Fort Lamy. With Fort Lamy and +Lake Chad in our hands we'll control a chunk of Africa so big +everybody else will start wondering why they shouldn't jump on the +bandwagon while the going is good." + +Dave said, "Well, that brings up something else, Homer. These new +recruits. In the past couple of days, forty or fifty men who used to +be connected with African programs sponsored by everybody from the +Reunited Nations to this gobblydygook outfit Cliff and Isobel once +worked for, the AFAA, have come over to El Hassan. The number will +probably double by tomorrow, and triple the next day." + +"Fine," Homer said. "What's wrong with that? These are the people +that will really count in the long run." + +"Nothing's wrong with it, within reason. But we're going to have to +start becoming selective, Homer. We've got to watch what jobs we let +these people have, how much responsibility we give them." + +Homer Crawford was frowning at him. "How do you mean?" + +"See here," the wiry South African said plaintively, "when El Hassan +started off there were only a half dozen or so who had the dream, as +you call it. O.K. You could trust any one of them. Bey, Kenny, Elmer, +Cliff, this Jake Armstrong that you've sent to New York, Rex +Donaldson, then Jimmy and Jack Peters and myself. We all came in when +the going was rough, if not impossible. But now things are different. +_It looks as though El Hassan might actually win._" + +"So?" Homer didn't get it. + +"So from now on, you're going to have an infiltration of cloak and +dagger lads from every outfit with an interest in North Africa. +Potential traitors, potential assassins, subversives and what not." + +Homer was scowling at him. "Confound it, what do you suggest? That +these Johnny-Come-Latelies be second-class citizens?" + +"Not exactly that, but this isn't funny. We've got to screen them. The +trouble with this movement is that it's a one-man deal, and has to be. +The average African is either a barbarian or an actual savage, one +ethnic degree lower. He wants a hero-symbol to follow. O.K., you're +it. But remember both Moctezuma and Atahualpa. Their socio-economic +systems pyramided up to them. The Spanish conquistadores, being old +hands at sophisticated European-type intrigue, quickly sized up the +situation. They kidnaped the hero-symbol, the big cheese, and later +killed him. And the Inca and the Aztec cultures collapsed." + +Homer was scowling at him unhappily. + +Dave summed it up. "All we need is one fuzzy minded commie from the +Soviet Complex, or one super-dooper democrat who thinks that El Hassan +stands in the way of _freedom_, whatever that is, and bingo a couple +of bullets in your tummy and the El Hassan movement folds its tents +like the Arabs and takes a powder, as the old expression goes." + +"You have your point," Homer Crawford admitted. "Follow through, Dave. +Figure out some screening program." + + * * * * * + +Cliff came in. "Hey, Homer. Guess what old Jake has done." + +"Jake Armstrong?" + +"He's swung the Africa for Africans Association in New York over to +us. They've raised a million bucks. What'll we do with it? How can he +get anything to us?" + +"We'll have him plow it back into publicity and further fund raising +campaigns," Homer said. "That's the way it's done. You raise some +money for some cause and then spend it all on a bigger campaign to +raise still more money, and what you get from that one you plow into a +still bigger campaign." + +Cliff said, "Don't you _ever_ get anything out of it?" + +Dave and Homer both laughed. + +Cliff said, "I've got some still better news." + +"Good news, we can use," Homer said. + + * * * * * + +The big Californian looked at him in pretended awe. "A poet no less," +he said. + +"Shut up," Homer said. "What's the news?" + +The fact of the matter was, he was becoming increasingly impatient of +the continual banter expected of him by Cliff and even the others. As +original members of the team, they expected an intimacy that he was +finding it increasingly difficult to deliver. Among other things, he +wished that Cliff, in particular, would mind his attitude when such +followers as Guémama were present. The El Hassan posture could be +maintained only in never to be compromised dignity. + +Bey had once compared him to Alexander, to Homer's amusement at the +time. But now he was beginning to sympathize with the position the +Macedonian leader had found himself in, betwixt the King-God conscious +Persians, and the rough and ready Companions who formed his bodyguard +and crack cavalry units. A King-God simply didn't banter with his +subordinates, not even his blood-kin. + +Cliff scowled at him now, at the sharpness of Homer's words, but he +made his report. + +"Our old pal, Sven Zetterberg. He's gone out on a limb. Because of the +great danger of this so-far localized fight spreading into world-wide +conflict--says old Sven--the Reunited Nations will not tolerate the +combat going into the air. He says that if _either_ El Hassan or the +Arab Legion resort to use of aircraft, the Reunited Nations will send +in its air fleet." + +"Wow," Homer said. "All the aircraft we've got are a few slow-moving +heliocopters that Kenny brought up with him." + +Dave Moroka snapped his fingers in a gesture of elation. "That means +Zetterberg is throwing his weight to our side." + +Homer was on his feet. "Send for Kenny and Guémama and send a +heliocopter down to pick up Bey and rush him here. He shouldn't be +more than a day's march away. I wonder what Elmer is up to. No word at +all from him. At any rate, we want an immediate council of war. With +Arab Legion air cover eliminated, we can move in." + +Cliff said sourly, "It's still largely rifles against armored cars, +tanks, mobile artillery and even flame throwers." + + * * * * * + +All the old hands were present. They stood about a map table, Homer +and Bey-ag-Akhamouk at one end, the rest clustered about. Isobel sat +in a chair to the rear, stenographer's pad on her knees. + +Bey was clipping out suggestions. + +"We have them now. Already our better trained men are heading up for +Temassinine to the north and Fort Charlet to the east. We'll lose men +but we'll knock out every water hole between here and Libya. We'll cut +every road, blow what few bridges there are." + +Jack Peters said worriedly, "But the important thing is Tamanrasset. +What good--" + +"We're cutting their supply line," Bey told him. "Can't you see? +Colonel Ibrahim and his motorized column will be isolated in +Tamanrasset. They won't be able to get supplies through without an air +lift and Sven Zetterberg's ultimatum kills that possibility. They're +blocked off." + +Jimmy Peters was as confused as his brother. "So what? to use the +Americanism. They have both food and water in abundance. They can hold +out indefinitely. Meanwhile, our forces are undisciplined irregulars. +We gain a thousand recruits a day. They come galloping in on +camel-back or in beat-up old vehicles, firing their hunting rifles +into the air. But we also lose a thousand a day. They get bored, or +hungry, and decide to go back to their flocks, or their jobs on the +new Sahara projects. At any rate, they drift off again. It looks to me +that, if Colonel Ibrahim can hold out another week or so, our forces +might melt away--all except the couple of hundred or so European and +American educated followers. And, cut down to that number, they'll +eliminate us in no time flat." + +Homer Crawford was eying him in humor. "You're no fighting man, +Peters. Tell me, what is the single most fearsome enemy of an +ultra-mechanized soldier with the latest in military equipment and +super-firepower weapons?" + +Jimmy Peters was blank. "I suppose a similarly armed opponent." + +Homer smiled at him. "Rather, a man with a knife." + +The expressions of the Peters brothers showed resentment. "We weren't +jesting." + +"Neither was I," Homer rapped. He looked around at the rest, including +Bey and Kenny. "What happens to a modern mechanized army when it runs +out of gasoline? What happens to a water-cooled machine gun when there +is no water? What use is a howitzer when the target is a single man in +ten acres of cover? Gentlemen, have any of you ever studied the +tactics of Abd-el-Krim or, more recently still, Tito? Bey, I assume +you have." + +He had their attention. + +"During the Second War," Homer continued, "this Yugoslavian Tito tied +up two Nazi army corps with a handful of partisans--guerrillas. The +most modern army in the world, the German Panzers, tried to ferret him +out for five years, and couldn't. There are other examples. The +Chinese operating against the Japs in the same war. Or one of the +classic examples is Abd-el-Krim destroying two different Spanish +armies in the Moroccan Rif in the 1920s. His barefoot men, armed with +rifles, took on Primo de Rivera's modernized Spanish armies and +trounced them." + +Bey said, "Homer's right. Our only tactics are guerrilla ones." + +Homer Crawford looked at Guémama, who had been standing in the +background, unfamiliar with the language these others spoke, but +holding his dignity. Crawford said, diplomatically, "And what sayest +thou, O chieftain of the Tuareg?" + +Guémama was gratified at the attention. He said in Tamaheq, "As all +men know, O El Hassan, we now outnumber by thrice the Arab _giaours_ +may they burn in Gehennum. Therefore, let us rush in and kill them +all." + +Bey shuddered. + +Homer Crawford nodded seriously. "Ai, Guémama, that would be the +valorous way of the Tuareg. But the heart of El Hassan forbids him to +sacrifice the lives of his people. Consequently, we shall use the +tactics of the desert jackal. Instruct those of your people who are +most cunning, to infiltrate Tamanrasset in the night. Let them not +carry arms for they may well be searched by the Arab _meleccha_." + +The Tuareg chieftain was intrigued. "And what shall they do in +Tamanrasset, El Hassan? Suddenly seize arms, one night, and rise up in +wrath against the Arab dogs and kill them all?" + +Homer was shaking his head. "They will address themselves to the +Haratin serfs and spread to them the message of El Hassan. They will +be told that in the world of El Hassan each man shall be free to seek +his own destiny to the extent his mind and abilities allow. And no man +shall be the less because he was born a serf, and no man the more +because he was born to wealth or power in the old days." + +[Illustration] + +"Aiii," Guémama all but moaned. "But such a message--" + +"Is the message of El Hassan, as all men know," Homer Crawford said +flatly. He turned to Kenny Ballalou. "Kenny, take over this angle. We +want as many propagandists in that town as possible. It's already +choked with refugees, most of them not knowing what they're fleeing. +We might get recruits there, too. But mostly we want to appeal to the +sedentary natives in town. They've got to get the dreams, too. Promise +them schools, land ... I don't have to tell you." + +"Right," Kenny said. + +Isobel said, "Maybe I ought to get in on this, too. The women might do +a better job than men on this slant. It's going to take a lot to get a +Tuareg bedouin to sink to talking to a Haratin on an equal basis." + +Bey and Homer had bent back over the maps, but before they could get +back into the details of guerrilla warfare against Colonel Ibrahim and +his legionnaires, they were halted by a controversy from without. + +"What now?" Homer growled. "This camp is getting to be like a +three-ring circus." + +The entrance flap was pushed aside and three of Bey's Sudanese +tribesmen half escorted, half pushed a newcomer front and center. + +It was Fredric Ostrander, natty as usual, but now in khaki desert +wear. He was obviously in a rage at the three rifle-carrying nomads +who had him in charge. + +Bey spoke to the Teda warriors in their own tongue. Then to Homer in +Tamaheq, which he assumed the C.I.A. man didn't know, "They picked him +up in the desert in a hover-jeep. He was evidently looking for our +camp." He dismissed the three bedouin with a gesture. + +Ostrander was outraged. He snapped at Homer Crawford, "I demand an +explanation of this cavalier attack upon--" + +His face expressionless, Homer held up a hand to quiet the smaller +man. He looked at Jack Peters and raised his eyebrows. "_Kion li la +fremdul diras?_" + +Jack, serious as ever, replied in Esperanto, then turned to the +American C.I.A. man and said, "El Hassan has requested that I +translate for him. He speaks only the official language of North +Africa to foreign representatives. Undoubtedly, sir, you have proper +credentials?" + +Had Fredric Ostrander been of lighter complexion, his color would have +undoubtedly gone dark red. + +"Look here, Crawford," he snapped. "I'm in no mood for nonsense. The +State Department has sent me to your headquarters to make another +attempt to bring some sense home to you. As an American citizen, +owing alliance--" + +Homer Crawford spoke in Esperanto to Jack Peters who nodded seriously +and said to Ostrander, "El Hassan informs you he owes alliance only to +the people of North Africa whose chosen leader he is." + +Ostrander knew they were kidding him, but at the same time the stand +being taken was actuality. He glared at the Americans present whom he +knew, Bey, Isobel, Cliff and Kenny. He snapped, "Very well, but I +repeat what I told you when last we met. The State Department of the +United States of the Americas will not stand idly by and see this area +taken over by elements dominated by red subversives." + +"Holy Mackerel," Cliff growled, "are you still tooting that horn?" + +Dave Moroka said sarcastically, "It's an old wheeze. The definition of +a red subversive is anybody who doesn't see eye to eye with the United +States. They've been pulling the gag for decades. Remember Guatemala +and Cuba? Do anything that interferes with American business abroad +and the cry goes up, _he's an enemy of the free world!_" + +Ostrander spun on him, his eyes narrowing. + +Dave laughed. "The definition of members of the free world, of course, +being anybody who follows the American line. Anybody is free, Spanish +and Portuguese dictators, absolute monarchs in Arabia, Chinese +warlords, if they're on the American side." + +Ostrander snapped, "I don't believe we've met." + +Moroka made a sweeping bow. "I'm afraid we don't move in the same +circles. I've spent possibly a third of my life in prison--" + +"Undoubtedly," Ostrander snorted. + +"... Put there by people such as yourself--in various +countries--because I was fighting for my own version of freedom." + +"Communism, undoubtedly!" + +Moroka said softly, "I'm a South African, sir. Both my parents were +killed in the 1960 riots. It seems that they had dark skins--even as +you and I--and weren't able to see why that should keep them from +_freedom_." + +Fredric Ostrander spun back to Homer Crawford. "I'm not here to +quibble with self-confessed malcontents. I've been sent to represent +the State Department, to report to them, and, above all, to do what I +can to prevent your activities from redounding to the further +advantage of the Soviet Complex. I assume you can assign me quarters." + +Straight-faced, Jack Peters translated this into Esperanto, and, +straight-faced, Homer answered in the same language. + +Jack turned back to the impatient C.I.A. man. "El Hassan welcomes the +representative of the United States of the Americas and hopes this +will be the first step toward diplomatic recognition between North +Africa and your great country. He has instructed me to find you +quarters, which, possibly you may have to share with delegations from +Common Europe or"--Peters cleared his throat--"the Soviet Complex. He +further suggests that it might be well, if you maintain communications +with your superiors, to have sent to you books on Esperanto, the +official language of North Africa." + +Dave Moroka put in, "By the way, we'll have to go through your things. +We can't allow any radio communication from El Hassan's camp, except +through official El Hassan channels--for obvious military reasons." + +Ostrander snorted, stared indignantly at Homer again, spun on his heel +and stalked from the tent. Jack Peters followed him but not before +tipping an uncharacteristic wink at Homer. + +When they were gone, Homer sighed and looked at Dave Moroka. "That +reminds me, how are our other delegations coming?" + +The South African grinned ruefully. "They're playing it cool. Waiting +to see what way to jump. Give El Hassan some real success, and they'll +probably jump at the chance to be first to recognize him. Especially +these Soviet Complex opportunists. They'd just love to suck you into +their camp." + +Isobel looked at him. "After that tearing down you gave poor Ostrander +about the United States, now you rip into the Soviet Complex. Just +where do you stand, Dave?" + +Dave shrugged her question off, as though there were more important +things. "I'm an El Hassan man," he said. "Let those two overgrown +powers handle their own troubles." + +Jimmy Peters spoke up for the first time since Ostrander entered the +tent. "You know," he said, seriously, "I'm beginning to wonder if the +world can afford nationalistic patriotism. Haven't we gone too far +along the road to think of ourselves any longer as Americans, or +Russians, or French, or West Indians, or whatever? Hasn't the human +race grown up beyond that point?" + +Kenny said mockingly, "What! Aren't you proud of being a West Indian, +and a loyal subject of Her Majesty?" + +Peters ignored his tone. "Why should I be proud of my country? It was +an accident of birth with which I had nothing to do, that made me a +West Indian, rather than a Canadian, a Chinese, a Norwegian, or +whatever. Intelligently, I should be proud only of things that I, +myself, have accomplished." + +Bey said, "If we can stop waxing philosophic for a while and get back +to how most efficiently to clobber these Arabs--" + + * * * * * + +The Hindu entered Kirill Menzhinsky's small office behind the Indian +souvenir shop in the Tangier Zocco Chico and said, "The operative +Anton is on the receiver." + +The agent superior of the _Chrezvychainaya Komissiya_ for North Africa +looked up from his desk and grunted acceptance of the message. He came +to his feet and followed the other into a back room and took his place +before a mouthpiece and screen. + +The man whose party name was Anton nodded a greeting. + +Kirill Menzhinsky said, "It's about time I heard from you, Anton." + +"Yes. But the situation has been such that it was not easy to report." + +"And now?" + +"Briefly, I am at El Hassan's headquarters. You were correct. He is in +actuality Homer Crawford. The others you mentioned are also with him, +including the traitor Isobel Cunningham." + +The Soviet Complex's agent allowed his eyebrows to rise. + +Anton said flatly, "The dame has evidently renounced the party and now +holds high rank in Crawford's inner circle." + +"And you?" + +"I am rapidly becoming his right-hand man. I am his press secretary +and in charge of communications. Early in our acquaintanceship I was +able to engineer an attempted assassination. I was able to, ah, save +the life of El Hassan." + +The Russian's eyes narrowed. "The assassins? Is there any chance that +they might reveal your little trick?" + +Anton grimaced. "I am not a fool, Kirill. Both of them were killed in +the assassination attempt. El Hassan was most grateful." + +"I see. And how would you sum up the present situation?" + +"This area is swinging rapidly to El Hassan, but any sort of defeat +and undoubtedly his followers would melt away. The bedouin are too +volatile. Before he ever makes any real headway he will have to take +the major commercial and industrial cities such as Dakar, Kano, +Lagos, Accra, Freetown, Khartoum, and eventually, of course, Cairo, +Casablanca, Algiers and so forth." + +"And our friend El Hassan leans not at all in our direction?" + +The man the Party called Anton shook his head. "He leans in no +direction, except that which will unite and modernize North Africa. +Neither do his immediate followers. They're a well-knit group and it +seems unlikely that I could pry any of them away from him in case it +became desirable." + +"I see," Kirill Menzhinsky muttered. "I understand that a delegation +from Moscow has arrived in El Hassan's camp. Have you contacted them?" + +"Certainly not. My orders were to rise in the El Hassan hierarchy and +await further orders. None of my current, ah, colleagues have any +suggestion that I am identified with the Party. Which reminds me, an +American C.I.A. man, Fredric Ostrander, has shown up. The fool seems +to be under the impression that El Hassan is a Party tool." + +"I know this Ostrander. Don't underestimate him, Anton. He's an +extremely competent operative in the clutch, as the Americans call +it." + +"Perhaps. But nevertheless, there is no indication that the El Hassan +movement leans either to East or West, nor do I see any signs that it +is apt to in the future." + +The Russian was scowling. "I see. Then perhaps it will be necessary +for us to do something to topple our El Hassan before he becomes much +stronger, and to find another to unite North Africa." + +Anton frowned in his turn. "I don't know. This man Crawford--and his +followers, for that matter--are motivated by high ideals. As you have +said, North Africa is not ready for our socio-economic system. Men of +the caliber of Homer Crawford could bring it into the modern age +perhaps more quickly than another." + +Menzhinsky chuckled. "Don't worry about it, Anton. Such matters of +policy will be decided by others than you, or even me. Keep in touch +with me more often, in the future, Anton." + +"Yes, Comrade." His face faded from the screen. + + * * * * * + +Tamanrasset lies at an altitude of approximately 4,600 feet, about +average for the Ahaggar plateau. Around it, such peaks as the Tahat +reach 9,600 feet above sea level. The country is rugged, jagged, bleak +beyond belief. With the possible exception of Southern Afghanistan in +the Khyber area, there is no place in the world more suited for +guerrilla warfare, less suited for the proper utilization of modern +armor, particularly when the latter is forced to work without air +cover. + +Homer Crawford, equipped with an old-style telescope, was +spread-eagled on top a rock outcropping, his only companion Isobel +Cunningham. Directly before him, possibly two miles in distance, was +the desert city of Tamanrasset, to the right, a kilometer or so, Amsel +where palatable water was to be found at eighteen meters depth. + +"Our friend, the colonel, is up to something," he grumbled. + +She had a pair of binoculars, of considerably less power than his +glass. + +"It looks as though Guémama's boys are on the run," she said. + +"As per orders. The primary theory of partisan warfare is not to get +killed. The guerrilla never stands and fights. If the regular forces +he opposes can bring him to bay, they've got him." He interrupted +himself to clip out, "Look at that tank, darling! There on the left!" + +Isobel tightened, looked at him quickly from the side of her eyes. No. +He'd said it inadvertently, his mind concentrated on the fighting men +below. She had often wondered where she stood with Homer Crawford the +man, as opposed to El Hassan the idealist. The tip of her tongue +licked the side of her mouth, as she surreptitiously took him in. But +Crawford the man would have to wait, there was no time, no time. + +Isobel swung her glasses. "The one starting to go in a circle? There, +it stopped." + +"One of the snipers got its commander," Homer said. "You can't fight a +tank without the commander's head being up through the hatch. That's a +popular fallacy. You can't see well enough to fight your tank unless +you've got your head up. And that's suicide when you're against +guerrillas. The colonel ought to send his infantry out first." + +Isobel said, "What did you mean when you said that he's up to +something?" + +Homer's eye was still glued to the eyepiece of his glass. "He's leaving +his entrenchments and sending his vehicles out to capture our ... our +strong points." + +"You mean our water, don't you?" + +Bey came snaking up to them on his belly. He came abreast of Homer and +brought forth his own binoculars. He watched for a moment and then +muttered a curse under his breath. + +"Guémama better start pulling back those men more quickly," he said. + +"He will. He's a good man," Homer told him. "What's up?" + +"Evidently, Colonel Ibrahim has decided to come out of retirement. +He's sent small motorized elements to Effok, In Fedjeg, Otoul and even +to Tahifet." + +"And--?" + +"And has taken them all, of course. Our men fall back, fighting a +stubborn rear-guard action, taking as few casualties as possible." + +"I don't get it," Homer bit out. "He's using up his fuel and +ammunition and losing more men than we are. Certainly he can't figure, +with the thousand odd troops he has, to be able to take and hold +enough of the oases and water holes in this vicinity to push us out +completely." + +Bey said, "What worries me is the possibility that he knows something +we don't. That he's figuring on being relieved or has a new source of +fuel, ammunition and men on tap." + +"The roads are cut. Our men hold every source of water from here to +Libya and the Reunited Nations has put thumbs down on aircraft which +eliminates an air lift." + +"Yeah," Bey said, unhappily. + + * * * * * + +That evening, following the day's last meal, Cliff came into the +headquarters tent grinning, broadly. "Hey, guess what we've +liberated." + +"A bottle of Scotch?" Kenny said hopefully. + +"A king-size portable radio transmitter. Ralph Sandell knew about it. +The Sahara Afforestation Project people were going to use it to +propagandize the tribesmen into coming in and taking jobs in the new +oases." + +Dave Moroka, who'd been censoring press releases, shook his head. +"That's why we need an El Hassan in this country," he complained. +"They put a couple of million dollars into a radio transmitter, never +asking themselves how many of the bedouin own radios." + +Jack Peters said, "Wait a moment, you chaps. Didn't Bey capture a +couple of Arab Legion radio technicians today?" + +"They defected to us," Homer Crawford said, looking up from an +improvised desk where he was poring over some supply papers with +Isobel. "What did you have in mind, Jack?" + +"There are radios in Tamanrasset. In fact, there's probably a radio in +every one of those military vehicles of Ibrahim's. Why can't we +blanket these Arab Union chaps with El Hassan propaganda? Quite a few +of them are from Libya, Tunisia and Egypt. In short, they're Africans +and susceptible to El Hassan's dream." + +"Good man. Take over the details, Jack," Homer said. He went back to +his work with Isobel. + +Jimmy Peters entered with some papers in hand. He said, seriously, +"The temperature is rising in the Reunited Nations--and everywhere +else, for that matter. Damascus and Cairo have been getting +increasingly belligerent. Homer, it looks as though the Arab Union is +getting ready to go out on a limb. Weeks have passed since Colonel +Ibrahim first took Tamanrasset and the Reunited Nations, the United +States, the Soviet Complex and all others interested in North Africa, +have failed to do anything. Everybody, evidently, afraid of +precipitating something that couldn't be ended." + +All eyes went to Homer Crawford who ran a black hand back over his +hair in weariness. "I know," he said. "Something is about to blow. +Dave has sent some of his best men into Tamanrasset to pick up gossip +in the souks. Morale was dragging bottom among the legionnaires just a +couple of days ago. Now they seem to have a new lease." + +"In spite of the sabotage our people have been committing?" Isobel +said. + +"That's falling off somewhat," Cliff said. "At first our more +enthusiastic followers were able to pull everything from heaving +Molotov Cocktails into tanks, to pouring sugar in hover-jeep gas +tanks, but the legionnaires have both smartened up and gotten very +tough." + +"Good," Dave Moroka said now. + +They looked at him. + +"Atrocities," he said. "In order to guard against sabotage, the +legionnaires will be taking measures that will antagonize the people +in Tamanrasset. They'll shoot a couple of teenage kids, or something, +then they'll have a city-wide mess on their hands." + +Isobel said unhappily, "It seems a nasty way to win a war." + +Dave grunted his contempt of her opinion. "There is no way of winning +a war other than a nasty one." + +Bey came in, yawning hugely. His energy was inconceivable to the +others. So far as was known, he hadn't slept, other than sitting erect +in a moving vehicle, for the past four days. He said to Homer, "Fred +Ostrander has been bending my ear for the past hour or so. Do you want +to talk to him?" + +"About what?" Homer said. + +"I don't know. He has a lot of questions. I think he's beginning to +suspect--just _suspect_, understand--that possibly the whole bunch of +us aren't receiving our daily instructions from either Moscow or +Peking." + +Dave and Cliff both laughed. + +Homer sighed and said, "Show him in. He's the only thing we have in +the way of a contact with the United States of the Americas and sooner +or later we're going to have to make our peace with both them and the +Soviet Complex. In fact, what we're probably going to have to do is +play one against the other, getting grants, loans, economic +assistance--" + +"Technicians, teachers, arms," Bey continued the list. + +Kenny Ballalou looked at him and snorted. "Arms! If there's anything +this part of the world doesn't need it's more arms. In fact, that goes +for the rest of the world, too. In the old days when the great nations +were first beginning to attempt to line up the neutrals they sent aid +to such countries by the billions--and most of it in arms. How +ridiculous can you get? Putting arms in the hands of most of the +governments of that time was like handing a loaded pistol to an +idiot." + +Bey hung his head in mock humility. "I bow before your wisdom," he +said. He left the room to get Ostrander. + + * * * * * + +The C.I.A. man had lost a fraction of his belligerence, but none of +his arrogance and natty appearance. Homer wondered vaguely how the +other managed to remain so spruce in the inadequate desert camp. + +Jack Peters said, "What did you wish to ask El Hassan? I will +translate." + +"Never mind that, Jack," Homer said. "We'll get tougher about using +our official language when we've gone a little further in building +our new government." He said to Ostrander, "What can I do for you? +Obviously, my time, is limited." + +Fredric Ostrander said, "I've been gathering material for reports to +my superiors. I've been doing a good deal of questioning, and, +frankly, even prying around." + +Cliff grunted. + +Ostrander went on. "I've also read the various press releases, +manifestoes and so forth that your assistants have been compiling." + +"We know," Homer said. "We haven't put any obstacles in your way. We +haven't any particular secrets, Mr. Ostrander." + +"You disguise the fact that you are an American," the C.I.A. man said +accusingly. + +Homer said slowly, "Only because El Hassan _is not_ an American, Mr. +Ostrander. He is an African with African solutions to African +problems. That is what he must be if he is to accomplish his task." + +Ostrander seemed to switch subjects. "See here, Crawford, the State +Department is not completely opposed to the goal of uniting North +Africa. It would solve many problems, both African and international." + +Kenny Ballalou laughed softly. "You mean, you're on our side?" + +Ostrander turned to him, for once not incensed at being needled. +"Possibly more than you'd think," he rapped. He turned back again to +Homer Crawford. "The question becomes, why do you think that _you_ are +the man for the job? Who gave _you_ the go-ahead?" + +Bey, who had settled down into a folding camp chair, now came to his +feet, his tired face angry. + +But Homer waved him to silence. "Hold it," he said. Then to Ostrander. +"It doesn't work that way. It's not something you decide to do because +you're thirsty for power, or greedy for money. You're pushed into it. +Do you think Washington, a retired Virginian planter wrapped up in his +estate and his family, wanted to spend years leading the revolutionary +armies through the wilderness that was America in those days? He was +thrust into the job, there was no one else more competent to take it. +Men make the times, Ostrander, but the times also make the men. Look +at Lenin and Trotsky. Three months before the October Revolution, +Lenin wrote that he never expected to see in his lifetime the +Bolsheviks come to power. Within those months he was at the head of +government and Trotsky, a former bookworm who had never fired a gun in +his life, was head of the Red Army and being proclaimed a military +genius." + +Ostrander was scowling at him, but his face was thoughtful. + +Homer said quietly, "It's not always an easy thing, to have power thrust +into your hands. Not always a desirable thing." His voice went quieter +still. "Only a short time ago it led me to the necessity of ... +killing ... my best friend." + +"And mine," Isobel said softly, almost under her breath. + +Dave Moroka said, "Abe Baker," before he caught himself. + +Kenny Ballalou looked at him strangely. "Did you know Abe?" + +The South African recovered. "I've heard several of you mention him +from time to time. He was a commie, wasn't he?" + +"Yes," Homer said without inflection. "And a man. He saved my life on +more than one occasion. As long as we worked together with only Africa +in mind, there was no conflict. But Abe had a further, and, to him, +greater alliance." + +He turned his attention back to the C.I.A. man. "A man does what he +must do," he finished simply. "I did not ask to become El Hassan." + +Ostrander said, "Your motivation is possibly beside the point. The +thing is that the battle for men's minds continues and your program, +eventually, must align with the West." + +"And get clobbered in the stampeding around between the two great +powers," Kenny said dryly. + +"You've got to take your stand," Ostrander said. "I'd rather die under +the neutron bomb, than spend the rest of my life on my knees under a +Soviet Complex government. Wouldn't you?" His eyes went from one of +them to the other, defiantly. + +Homer said slowly. "No, even though that was the only alternative, +which is unlikely. Not if it meant finishing off the whole human race +at the same time." He shook his head. "If it were only me, it might be +different. But if it was a matter of nuclear war the whole race might +well end. Given such circumstances, I'd be proud to remain on my +knees the rest of my life. You see, Ostrander, you make the mistake of +thinking the Soviet socio-economic system is a permanent thing. It +isn't. It's changing daily, even as our own socio-economic system is. +Even if the Soviet Complex were to dominate the whole world, it would +be but a temporary phase in man's history. Their regime, in its time, +right or wrong, will go under in man's march to whatever his destiny +might be. Some day it will be only a memory, and so will the +socio-economic systems of the West. No institutions are less permanent +than politico-economic ones." + +"I don't agree with you," Ostrander snapped. + +"Obviously," Homer shrugged. "However, this is another problem. El +Hassan deals with North Africa. The other problems you bring up we +admit, but at this stage are not dealing with them. Our dream is in +Africa. Perhaps the Africans will be forced to taking other stands, to +dreaming new dreams, twenty or thirty years from now. When that time +comes, I assume the new problems will be faced. By that time there +will probably be no need for El Hassan." + +Ostrander looked at him and bit his lip in thought. + +It came to him now that he had never won in his contests with Homer +Crawford, and that he would probably never win. No matter how strong +his convictions, in the presence of the other man, something went out +of him. There was strength in Crawford that must be experienced to be +understood. When he talked, he held you, and your own opinions became +nothing--stupidities on your lips. He had a dream, and in conversation +with him, all other things dropped away and nothing was of importance +but that dream. A dream? Possibly _disease_ was the better word. And +so highly contagious. + +[Illustration] + +While they talked, an aide had entered and handed a report to +Bey-ag-Akhamouk. He read it and closed his eyes in weariness. + +"What's up, Bey," Homer asked. + +"I don't know. Colonel Ibrahim has stepped up his attacks in all +directions. At least two thirds of his force is on the offensive. It +doesn't make much sense. But it must make sense to _him_, or he +wouldn't be doing it." + +Ostrander said, and to everyone's surprise there seemed to be an +element of worry in his voice too, "I know Colonel Midan Ibrahim, met +him in Cairo and in Baghdad on various occasions. He's considered one +of the best men in the Arab Legion. He doesn't make military +blunders." + +Bey said, "Come on, Kenny. Let's round up Guémama and take a look at +the front." He led the way from the tent. + + * * * * * + +There was a guard posted before the tent which doubled as press and +communications center, and the private quarters of David Moroka. + +The figure that approached timidly was garbed in the traditional +clothing of the young women of the Tégéhé Mellet tribe of the Tuareg +and bore an _imzad_ in her left hand, while her right held a corner of +her gandoura over her face. + +The guard, of the Kel Rela tribe, eyed the one-stringed violin with +its string of hair and sounding box made of half a gourd covered with +a thin membrane of skin, and grinned. A Tuareg maid was accustomed to +sing and to make the high whining tones of desert music on the _imzad_ +before submitting to her lover's embrace. _Wallahi!_ but these women +of the Tégéhé Mellet were shameless. + +"Where do you go?" he said gruffly. "El Hassan's vizier has ordered +that he is occupied and none should approach." + +"He awaits me," she wavered. There was _kohl_ about her eyes, and +indigo at the corners of her mouth. "We met at the _tendi_ last night +and he bid me come to his tent. It is for me he waits." + +_Wallahi!_ but his leader had taste, the sentry decided. + +"Pass," he said gruffly. Even a vizier of such importance as this one +must need solace at times, he decided philosophically. + +She slipped past silently to the tent entrance where the Tuareg guard +noticed she paused for a long moment before entering. He grinned into +his teguelmoust. Aiii, the little bird was timid before the hawk. + +She stood for a moment listening, and then slipped inside, dropping +the desert musical instrument to the ground. Dave Moroka's back was to +her and even as she entered he flicked off the switch of the +video-radio into which he had been speaking and scowled at it. + +When he stood and began to turn, she covered him with the small pocket +pistol. She had an ease in handling it which denoted competence. + +His eyebrows went up, but he remained silent, waiting for her gambit. + +Isobel said evenly, "You're a Party member, aren't you, Dave?" + +"Why do you say that?" + +She nodded infinitesimally to the set. "You were reporting just now. I +heard enough just as I came in." + +He took in her disguise. "My guard isn't as efficient as I had +thought," Dave said wryly. + +Isobel said, "You knew Abe Baker, didn't you?" + +He looked at her, expressionlessly. + +She said, "I already knew you belonged to the Party, Dave. No matter +how competent an agent, it's something difficult to hide from any +other long-time member. There's a terminology you use--such as calling +it the Soviet Union, rather than Russia. No commie ever says Russia, +it's always _the Soviet Union_. You can tell, just as a Roman Catholic +can tell a person raised in the Church, even though the other has +dropped away, or even as one Jew can tell another. Yes, I've known +you were a Party member for some time, Dave." + +"And?" the South African said. + +"Why are you here?" + +Dave Moroka said, "For the same reason you are, to further the El +Hassan dream, the uniting and modernization of the continent of my +racial heritage." + +"But you are still a Party member and still report to your superiors." + +Dave Moroka looked at the tiny gun she held in her hand. + +"Don't try it," she said. "I have seen you in action, Dave. I have +never seen a man move so ruthlessly fast ... but don't try it." + +"No reason to," he bit out. "Come on, let's go see Homer." + +She was slightly taken aback, but not enough to release her control +for even a split second. "Lead the way," she said. + + * * * * * + +Even at this time of evening, the headquarters tent was brightly lit +and most of the immediate El Hassan staff still at work. Homer +Crawford looked up as they entered. + +Cliff Jackson saw the gun first and said, "Holy Mackerel, Isobel." + +Fredric Ostrander was sitting to one side in discussion with the sober +faced Jack Peters. He took in the gun and slowly came to his feet, +obviously expecting climax. + +Isobel said, "Dave's taking over control of communications had method. +I just found him reporting to what must have been a superior ... in +the Party." + +Homer Crawford looked from the South African to Isobel, then back to +Dave again, without speaking. His eyes were questioning. + +Dave said, his voice sharp. "I haven't time for details now. Isobel's +right. I was a Party member." + +"Was?" Ostrander chuckled. "That's the understatement of the year. I +hadn't got around to revealing the fact as yet, but our friend Dave is +the notorious Anton, one of the Soviet Complex's most competent +hatchetmen." + +Dave looked at him only briefly. "Was," he reiterated. He turned his +attention to Homer and to Bey, who was staring tired dismay at this +new addition to the load. + +Homer still held his peace, waiting for the other to go on. + +"I found out tonight why Colonel Ibrahim is attacking, instead of +pulling in his horns as reason would dictate." Dave paused for +emphasis. "The Soviet Complex has thrown its weight, in this matter at +least, on the side of the Arab Union. They have insisted that Sven +Zetterberg be dismissed as head of the Sahara Division of the African +Development Project and that his threat to use Reunited Nations +aircraft if the local fighting spreads to the air, be repudiated." + +Kenny blurted, "Good grief ... that means--" + +Dave looked around at them, one by one. "It means," he said, "that the +Arab Legion is going to be reinforced tomorrow morning by a full +regiment of paratroopers." + +"Holy Mackerel," Cliff groaned. "We've had it. Another regiment of +crack troops in Tamanrasset and we'll _never_ take the town." + +Dave shook his head. "That's not the big thing. The paratroopers +aren't going to drop in Tamanrasset. They're going to hit every oasis, +every water hole, in a circumference of two hundred miles." + +There was an empty silence. + +Homer Crawford said finally, evenly, "In the expectation that every +follower of El Hassan in the Sahara will either surrender or die of +thirst, eh?" He didn't seem sufficiently impressed by the threatening +disaster. He looked at Dave questioningly. "Why do you bother to tell +us, Dave, if you're on the other side?" + +Dave grunted sour amusement. "Because I've just become a full member +of the team. I resigned from the Party tonight." + +"Brother," Bey said, "you sure pick a helluva time to join up." He +obviously was expressing the opinions of the majority. + +Homer Crawford came to his feet and looked around at them. "All +right," he said. "A new complication. Let's face up to it. There's +always an answer. We're in the clutch, let's fight our way out." + +Largely, they stared at him, but he ignored their dismay. He looked +from one to the other. "We need some ideas. Let's kick it around. +Isobel, Cliff, Jack, Kenny--?" His eyes went from one to the other. +Obviously his own mind was churning. + +They shook their heads dumbly. + +Kenny said, "Ideas! We've had it, Homer!" + +Homer Crawford spun on him and now the force they all knew was +emanating from him. He laughed his scorn. "A month ago we were half a +dozen fugitives. Now we're an army besieging a city. And you say we've +had it? Listen, Kenny, if we have to we'll go back to being half a +dozen fugitives again--those of us that are left. But the dream goes +on! However, we're not going to have to. We're too near victory in +this stage of the operation to sit down on the job because of a +threatened reverse. Now then, let's kick it around. Jimmy! Dave! +Kenny! Ostrander!" + +Fredric Ostrander raised his eyebrows only slightly at being included +in their number. + + * * * * * + +Bey, for once, was seemingly too exhausted to be brought to new +enthusiasm. He tossed a detail map of Tamanrasset to the table. "And +I'd just worked out a bang-up scheme for infiltrating into town, +joining up with our adherents there, and seizing it while most of +Ibrahim's men were out in the desert, trying to capture our nearer +water holes." + +Homer snapped, "It sounds like it still might have possibilities." + +Ostrander looked down at the map, his face very tight. "How long would +it take?" + +Bey scowled at him, defeat dulling his mind. "What?" + +"How long do you figure it would take to infiltrate Tamanrasset and +capture it? Behind Ibrahim's back, so to speak." + +Bey grunted. "A couple of hours in the early morning. I had a +beautiful picture of the colonel's armor out in the desert, cut off +from its petroleum supplies and ammunition dump while we held the +town. Some of our men, the former veterans of the French West African +forces, could have even operated the antitank guns he has mounted at +Fort Laperrine." + +The C.I.A. man's mouth worked. + +Homer Crawford's eyes pierced him. + +Ostrander walked over to the radio before which Kenny Ballalou sat. +"See if you can raise Colonel Ibrahim for me." + +Kenny scowled at him. "Why?" + +"Do it." + +Kenny looked at Homer Crawford. + +Homer said, "O.K. Do it." + +Kenny shrugged and turned to the set. While the others watched, +Crawford's face alert, his eyes narrowed, the rest of them dull in +apathy, the face of Colonel Ibrahim finally faded in on the screen. + +Fredric Ostrander took his place at the instrument. He nodded, +formally. "Greetings, Colonel, it seems a long time since last we met +in Amman." + +The Arab Legion officer smiled politely. "I had heard that you +represented the State Department in this area, Mr. Ostrander, and have +been somewhat surprised that you failed to make Tamanrasset your +headquarters. It would have been pleasant to have renewed old +friendship." + +Ostrander cleared his throat. "I am afraid that would have been +difficult, Colonel, particularly in view of the stand of my government +at this time." + +On the screen, the other's eyebrows went up. + +Ostrander said evenly, "Colonel, we have just been informed that a +regiment of paratroopers has been put at your disposal and that they +plan to land at various points in the Sahara in the morning." + +The colonel said stiffly, "This is military information which I am not +free to discuss, Mr. Ostrander." + +Frederic Ostrander went on, his voice still even. "We have further +been informed that the Reunited Nations has withdrawn its ban on +aircraft, which would seem to free your paratroop carrying planes." + +The colonel remained silent, waiting for the bombshell. It was obvious +that he expected a bombshell. + +Ostrander said, "As representative of the State Department I warn you +that if these paratroop carrying planes take off tomorrow morning, the +Seventh Airfleet of the United States of the Americas will enter the +conflict on the side of El Hassan. Good evening, Colonel." + +The C.I.A. man reached out and flicked the switch that killed the set. +Then he took the snowy white handkerchief from the breast pocket of +his jacket and wiped his mouth. + +Isobel said, "Heavens to Betsy." + +Kenny said indignantly, "Good grief, you fool, it won't take more than +hours for your superiors to repudiate you. Then what happens?" + +"By then, I assume, the battle will be over and Tamanrasset in El +Hassan's hands. The Arab Union will then think twice before committing +their paratroopers, particularly with captured armor in El Hassan's +hands." + +"And your name will be mud," Kenny blurted. + +Ostrander looked at Homer Crawford. "Gentlemen, you must remember that +I, too, am an African. I had thought that perhaps there would be a +position for me on El Hassan's staff." + +Crawford reached for the Tommy-Noiseless that leaned up against the +improvised desk at which he worked. He said, "Let's get moving, Bey. +We haven't much time. We're going to have to be able to announce its +capture _from_ Tamanrasset in a couple of hours." + +"Not you," Bey said, grabbing up his own weapon and motioning with his +head for Kenny and Cliff to come along. "You're El Hassan and can't be +risked." + +"I'm coming," Homer said flatly. "It's about time El Hassan began +taking some of the same risks his followers seem to be willing to +face. Besides, the men will fight better with me out in front. Got a +gun, Fred?" + +Ostrander said, "No. Where am I issued one?" + +"I'll show you," Homer said, stuffing extra clips in his bush jacket +pockets. "Come on, Dave." + +The whole group began heading for the open air, Bey already yelling +orders. + +Fredric Ostrander looked at Dave Moroka. "Strange bedfellows," he +said. + +Moroka grinned wryly. "My long view hasn't changed," he said. "It's +just that this African matter takes precedence right now." + +"Nor mine, of course," Ostrander said. He cleared his throat. +"However, I hope you last out the night. El Hassan needs strong men." + +"Same to you," Moroka said gruffly. "Let's get going, or the fight +will be over while we hand each other flowers." + + +_Epilogue_ + +El Hassan stood in the smoking, war-wasted ruin of Fort Laperine, his +mind empty. The body of Jack Peters was ten feet to his left, burned +beyond recognition and crumpled over a flame thrower which he'd +eliminated in the last few moments of the fighting. Had he let his +eyes go out the gun port before which he stood, it might have been +possible for El Hassan to have picked out the bodies of David Moroka +and Fredric Ostrander amidst those of the several hundred Haratin +serfs who had swarmed out of the souk area at the crucial moment and +stormed the half manned fort--unarmed save for knives and farm +implements. + +To his right, Dr. Warren Harding Smythe supervised two Tuareg who were +carrying off the broken body of Kenny Ballalou; there was still faint +life in it. + +The doctor looked at him. "You are satisfied, I assume?" + +El Hassan failed to hear him. + +Smythe turned and stomped off, following his impressed nurses. + +In the distance, Bey-ag-Akhamouk called hoarse orders from an +over-strained throat, placing guns for a counterattack that would +never come. The Arab Legion was broken and Colonel Ibrahim a prisoner. +Large numbers of the survivors were defecting to the banner of El +Hassan. + +He threw his empty Tommy-Noiseless to the side. All he wanted now was +sleep, the surcease of a few hours of oblivion. + +Isobel, her face wan from the horror of the agony of the combat whose +result was everywhere visible, was picking her way through the +wreckage with Cliff Jackson. + +El Hassan looked at her absently. Whatever message she bore held +little interest to him. + +Cliff said, "India has recognized El Hassan as legal head of state of +all North Africa. It is expected that Australia will follow before the +week is out." + +El Hassan nodded. For the time, not caring. + +Isobel said, "We have other word. It came by messenger." She closed +her eyes in pain and handed him a small box. + +He opened it and recognized the ring on the enclosed finger. He looked +up at them. + +Cliff Jackson growled low in his throat. "Elmer Allen. He's been +captured by a leader of the Ouled Touameur clan of the Ouled Allouch +tribe. You know this Abd-el-Kader?" + +El Hassan was staring down at the finger, his mind slowly clearing of +its fatigue. "He belongs to the Berazga division of the Chaambra +confederation. I had a run-in with him a few months ago and had him +jailed. He's nothing but a desert bandit on the make." + +Cliff said, "He's escaped, has thrown his weight behind the Arab +Union, proclaimed himself the Mahdi and is uniting Algeria and parts +of Morocco and Tunisia like a wildfire. The marabouts and Shorfa are +backing him." + +"Proclaimed himself the Mahdi?" Isobel said in question. + +El Hassan turned to the girl and took a deep breath. "The original +Mahdi was the holiest prophet since Mohammed and according to the more +superstitious Moslems, he's still alive. According to Islamic +tradition, he periodically shows up again in the desert and makes +various predictions. When he does, it almost always winds up with a +jihad, a holy war. Don't you remember in history the anti-British +Mahdi at Khartoum, the killing of Chinese Gordon and so forth? That +Mahdi was the son of a Dongola carpenter and he managed to conquer two +million square miles in two years." + +"But, what has this got to do with this Abd-el-Kader?" + +"He's evidently proclaimed himself sort of a reincarnation of the +original Mahdi. He's out to do the same thing we are--to unite North +Africa. But in his case he doesn't exactly have the same dream and +he's working under the green ensign of the Pan-Islamic Arab Union." + +"And has Elmer Allen captive." + +"Yes, he has Elmer." El Hassan's tone of voice turned sharp. "Cliff, +go get Bey. Tell him we're forming a flying column and heading north." + +Cliff was gone. El Hassan turned back to the girl. "You know, Isobel," +he said softly, slowly, "in history there is no happy ending, ever. +There is no ending at all. It goes from one crisis to another, but +there is no ending." + + * * * * * + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Border, Breed Nor Birth, by Dallas McCord Reynolds + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BORDER, BREED NOR BIRTH *** + +***** This file should be named 30639-8.txt or 30639-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/6/3/30639/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Border, Breed Nor Birth + +Author: Dallas McCord Reynolds + +Illustrator: Schoenherr + +Release Date: December 9, 2009 [EBook #30639] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BORDER, BREED NOR BIRTH *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="tr"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:</p> +<p class="center">This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction July 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p></div> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_001.jpg" width="600" height="396" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<h1>Border, Breed nor Birth</h1> +<p> </p> +<div class="blockquot"><p>Part 1 of Two. Kipling said those things didn't count when +two strong men stood face to face. But ... do they count +when two strong ideologies stand face to face...?</p></div> +<p> </p> +<h2>by Mack Reynolds</h2> +<p> </p> +<h3>Illustrated by Schoenherr</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>I</h2> + +<p>El Hassan, would-be tyrant of all North Africa, was on the run.</p> + +<p>His followers at this point numbered six, one of whom was a wisp of a +twenty-four year old girl. Arrayed against him and his dream, he knew, +was the combined power of the world in the form of the Reunited +Nations, and, in addition, such individual powers as the United States +of the Americas, the Soviet Complex, Common Europe, the French +Community, the British Commonwealth and the Arab Union, working both +together and unilaterally.</p> + +<p>Immediate survival depended upon getting into the Great Erg of the +Sahara where even the greatest powers the world had ever developed +would have their work cut out locating El Hassan and his people.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="p1">B</span>ey-ag-Akhamouk who was riding next to Elmer Allen in the lead air +cushion hover-lorry, held a hand high. Both of the solar powered +desert vehicles ground to a halt.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford vaulted out of the seat of the second lorry before it +had settled to the sand. "What's up, Bey?" he called.</p> + +<p>Bey pointed to the south and west. They were in the vicinity of +Tessalit, in what was once known as French Sudan, and immediately to +the south of Algeria. They were deliberately avoiding what little +existed in this area in the way of trails, the Tanezrouft route which +crossed the Sahara from Colomb-Béchar to Gao, on the Niger, was some +fifty miles to the west.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford stared up into the sky in the direction Bey pointed and +his face went wan.</p> + +<p>The others were piling out of the vehicles.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" Isobel Cunningham said, squinting and trying to catch +what the others had already spotted.</p> + +<p>"Aircraft," Bey growled. "A rocket-plane."</p> + +<p>"Which means the military in this part of the world," Homer said.</p> + +<p>The rest of them looked to him for instructions, but Bey suddenly took +over. He said to Homer, "You better get on over beneath that +outcropping of rock. The rest of us will handle this."</p> + +<p>Homer looked at him.</p> + +<p>Bey said, flatly, "If one of the rest of us gets it, or even if all of +us do, the El Hassan movement goes on. But if something happens to +you, the movement dies. We've already taken our stand and too much is +at stake to risk your life."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. He reached +inside the solar-powered lorry and fetched forth a Tommy-Noiseless and +started for the rock outcropping at a trot. Having made his decision, +he wasn't going to cramp Bey-ag-Akhamouk's style with needless +palaver.</p> + +<p>Isobel Cunningham, Cliff Jackson, Elmer Allen and Kenny Ballalou +gathered around the tall, American educated Tuareg.</p> + +<p>"What's the plan?" Elmer said. Either he or Kenny Ballalou could have +taken over as competently, but they were as capable of taking orders +as giving them, a desirable trait in fighting men.</p> + +<p>Bey was still staring at the oncoming speck. He growled, "We can't +even hope he hasn't seen the pillars of sand and dust these vehicles +throw up. He's spotted us all right. And we've got to figure he's +looking for us, even though we can hope he's not."</p> + +<p>The side of his mouth began to tic, characteristically. "He'll make +three passes. The first one high, as an initial check. The second time +he'll come in low just to make sure. The third pass and he'll clobber +us."</p> + +<p>The aircraft was coming on, high but nearer now.</p> + +<p>"So," Elmer said reasonably, "we either get him the second pass he +makes, or we've had it." The young Jamaican's lips were thinned back +over his excellent teeth, as always when he went into combat.</p> + +<p>"That's it," Bey agreed. "Kenny, you and Cliff get the flac rifle, and +have it handy in the back of the second truck. Be sure he doesn't see +it on this first pass. Elmer, get on the radio and check anything he +sends."</p> + +<p>Kenny Ballalou and the hulking Cliff Jackson ran to carry out orders.</p> + +<p>Isobel said, "Got an extra gun for me?"</p> + +<p>Bey scowled at her. "You better get over there with Homer where it's +safer."</p> + +<p>She said evenly, "I've always considered myself a pacifist, but when +somebody starts shooting at me, I forget about it and am inclined to +shoot back."</p> + +<p>"I haven't got time to argue with you," Bey said. "There aren't any +extra guns except handguns and they'd be useless." As he spoke, he +pulled his own Tommy-Noiseless from its scabbard on the front door of +the air cushion lorry, and checked its clip of two hundred .10 caliber +ultra-high velocity rounds. He flicked the selector to the explosive +side of the clip.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The plane was roaring in on what would be its first pass, if Bey had +guessed correctly. If he had guessed incorrectly, this might be the +end. A charge of napalm would fry everything for a quarter of a mile +around, or the craft might even be equipped with a mini-fission bomb. +In this area a minor nuclear explosion would probably go undetected.</p> + +<p>Bey yelled, "Don't anybody even try to fire at him at this range. +He'll be back. It takes half the sky to turn around in with that +crate, but he'll be back, lower next time."</p> + +<p>Cliff Jackson said cheerlessly, "Maybe he's just looking for us. He +won't necessarily take a crack at us."</p> + +<p>Bey grunted. "Elmer?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing on the radio," Elmer said. "If he was just scouting us out, +he'd report to his base. But if his orders are to clobber us, then he +wouldn't put it on the air."</p> + +<p>The plane was turning in the sky, coming back.</p> + +<p>Cliff argued, "Well, we can't fire unless we know if he's just hunting +us out, or trying to do us in."</p> + +<p>Elmer said patiently, "For just finding us, that first pass would be +all he needed. He could radio back that he'd found us. But if he comes +in again, he's looking for trouble."</p> + +<p>"Here he comes!" Bey yelled. "Kenny-Cliff ... the rifle!"</p> + +<p>Isobel suddenly dashed out into the sands a dozen yards or so from the +vehicles and began running around and around in a circle as though +demented.</p> + +<p>Bey stared at her. "Get back here," he roared. "Under one of the +trucks!"</p> + +<p>She ignored him.</p> + +<p>The rocket-plane was coming in, low and obviously as slow as the pilot +could retard its speed.</p> + +<p>The flac rifle began jumping and tracers reached out from +it—inaccurately. The Tommy-Noiseless automatics in the hands of Bey +and Elmer Allen gave their silenced <i>flic flic flic</i> sounds, equally +ineffective.</p> + +<p>On the ultra-stubby wings of the fast moving aircraft, a row of +brilliant cherries flickered and a row of explosive shells plowed +across the desert, digging twin ditches, miraculously going between +the air cushion lorries but missing both. It was upon them, over and +gone, before the men on the ground could turn to fire after.</p> + +<p>Elmer Allen muttered an obscenity under his breath.</p> + +<p>Cliff Jackson looked around in desperation. "What can we do now? He +won't come close enough for us to even fire at him, next time."</p> + +<p>Bey said nothing. Isobel had collapsed into the sand. Elmer Allen +looked over at her. "Nice try, Isobel," he said. "I think he came in +lower and slower than he would have otherwise—trying to see what the +devil it was you were doing."</p> + +<p>She shrugged, hopelessly.</p> + +<p>"Hey!" Kenny Ballalou pointed.</p> + +<p>The rocketcraft was wobbling, shuddering, in the sky. Suddenly it +burst into a black cloud of fire and smoke and explosion.</p> + +<p>At the same moment, Homer Crawford got up from the sand dune behind +which he'd stationed himself and plowed awkwardly through the sand +toward them.</p> + +<p>Bey glared at him.</p> + +<p>Homer shrugged and said, "I checked the way he came in the first time +and figured he'd repeat the run. Then I got behind that dune there and +faced in the other direction and started firing where I <i>thought</i> he'd +be, a few seconds before he came over. He evidently ran right into +it."</p> + +<p>Bey said indignantly, "Look, wise guy, you're no longer the leader of +a five-man Reunited Nations African Development Project team. Then, +you were expendable. Now, you're El Hassan. You give the orders. Other +people are expendable."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford grinned at him, somewhat ruefully and held up his hands +as though in supplication. "Listen to the man, is that any way to talk +to El Hassan?"</p> + +<p>Elmer Allen said worriedly, "He's right, though, Homer. You shouldn't +take chances."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford went serious. "Actually, none of us should, if we can +avoid it. In a way, El Hassan isn't one person. It's this team here, +and Jake Armstrong, who by this time I hope is on his way to the +States."</p> + +<p>Bey was shaking his head in stubborn determination. "No," he said. +"I'm not sure that you comprehend this yourself, Homer, but you're +Number One. You're the symbol, the hero these people are going to +follow if we put this thing over. They couldn't understand a sextet +leadership. They want a leader, someone to dominate and tell them what +to do. A team you need, admittedly, but not so much as the team needs +you. Remember Alexander? He had a team starting off with Aristotle for +a brain-trust, and Parmenion, one of the greatest generals of all time +for his right-hand man. Then he had a group of field men such as +Ptolemy, Antipater, Antigonus and Seleucus—not to be rivaled until +Napoleon built his team, two thousand years later. And what happened +to this super-team when Alexander died?"</p> + +<p>Homer looked at him thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>Bey wound it up doggedly. "You're our Alexander. Our Caesar. Our +Napoleon. So don't go getting yourself killed, damn it. Excuse me, +Isobel."</p> + +<p>Isobel grinned her pixielike grin. "I agree," she said. "Dammit."</p> + +<p>Homer said, "I'm not sure I go all along with you or not. We'll think +about it." His voice took a sharper note. "Let's go over and see if +there's enough left in that wreckage to give us an idea of who the +pilot represented. I can't believe it was a Reunited Nations man, and +I'd like to know who, of our potential enemies, dislikes the idea of +El Hassan so much that they figure we should all be bumped off before +we even get under way."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="p1">I</span>t had begun—if there is ever a beginning—in Dakar. In the offices +of Sven Zetterberg the Swedish head of the Sahara Division of the +African Development Project of the Reunited Nations.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford, head of a five-man trouble-shooting team, had reported +for orders. In one hand he held them, when he was ushered into the +other's presence.</p> + +<p>Zetterberg shook hands abruptly, said, "Sit down, Dr. Crawford."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford looked at the secretary who had ushered him in.</p> + +<p>Zetterberg said, scowling, "What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"I think I have something to be discussed privately."</p> + +<p>The secretary shrugged and turned and left.</p> + +<p>Zetterberg, still scowling, resumed his own place behind the desk and +said, "Claud Hansen is a trusted Reunited Nations man. What could +possibly be so secret...?"</p> + +<p>Homer indicated the orders he held. "This assignment. It takes some +consideration."</p> + +<p>Sven Zetterberg was not a patient man. He said, in irritation, "It +should be perfectly clear. This El Hassan we've been hearing so much +about. This mystery man come out of the desert attempting to unify +all North America. We want to talk to him."</p> + +<p>"Why?" Crawford said.</p> + +<p>"Confound it," Zetterberg snapped. "I thought we'd gone into this +yesterday. In spite of the complaints that come into this office in +regard to your cavalier tactics in carrying out your assignments, you +and your team are our most competent operatives. So we've given you +the assignment of finding El Hassan."</p> + +<p>"I mean, why do you want to talk to him?"</p> + +<p>The Swede glared at him for a moment, as though the American was being +deliberately dense. "Dr. Crawford," he said, "when the African +Development Project was first begun we had high hopes. Seemingly all +Reunited Nations members were being motivated by high humanitarian +reasons. Our task was to bring all Africa to a level of progress +comparable to the advanced nations. It was more than a duty, it was a +crying need, a demand. Africa is and has been throughout history a +<i>have-not</i> continent. While Europe, the Americas, Australia and now +even Asia, industrialized and largely conquered man's old +socio-economic problems, Africa lagged behind. The reasons were +manifold, colonialism, lingering tribal society ... various others. +Now that very lagging has become a potential explosive situation. With +the coming of antibiotics and other break-throughs in medicine, the +African population is growing with an all but geometric progression. +So fast is it growing, that what advances were being made did less +than keep up the level of per capita gross product. It was bad enough +to have a per capita gross product averaging less than a hundred +dollars a year, but it actually sank below that point."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford was nodding.</p> + +<p>Zetterberg continued the basic lecture with which he knew the other +was already completely familiar. "So the Reunited Nations took on the +task of advancing as rapidly as possible the African economy and all +the things that must be done before an economy <i>can</i> be advanced. It +was self-preservation, I suppose. <i>Have-not</i> nations, not to speak of +<i>have-not</i> races and <i>have-not</i> continents, have a tendency eventually +to explode upon their wealthier neighbors."</p> + +<p>The Swede pressed his lips together before continuing. "Unfortunately, +the Reunited Nations as the United Nations and the League of Nations +before it, is composed of members each with its own irons in the fire. +Each with its own plans and schemes." His voice was bitter now. "The +Arab Union with its desire to unite all Islam into one. The Soviet +Complex with its ultimate dream of a soviet world. The capitalistic +economies of the British Commonwealth, Common Europe, and your United +States of the Americas, with their hunger for, positive need for, +sources of raw materials and markets for their manufactured products. +All, though playing lip service to the African Development Project, +have still their own ambitions."</p> + +<p>Sven Zetterberg waggled a finger at Homer Crawford. "I do not charge +that your United States is attempting to take over Africa, or even any +section of it, in the old colonialistic sense. Even England and France +have discovered that it is much simpler to dominate economically than +to go through all the expense and effort of governing another people. +That is the basic reason they gave up their empires. No, your United +States would love to so dominate Africa that her products, her +entrepreneurs, would flood the continent to the virtual exclusion of +such economic competitors as Common Europe. The Commonwealth feels the +same, so does the French Community. The Soviets and Arabs have +different motivations, but they, too, wish to take over. The +result...." The Swede tossed up his hands in a gesture more Gallic +than Scandinavian.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"What has all this got to do with El Hassan?" Homer Crawford asked +softly.</p> + +<p>The Swede leaned forward. "If we more devoted adherents of the +Reunited Nations are ever to see our hopes come true, Africa must be +united and made strong. And this must be done through the efforts of +<i>Africans</i> not Russians, British, French, Arabs ... nor even +Scandinavians. Socio-economic changes should not, possibly cannot, be +inflicted upon a people from without. Look at the mess the Russians +made in such countries as Hungary, or the Americans in such as South +Korea."</p> + +<p>"The people themselves must have the dream," Crawford said softly.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. Go on."</p> + +<p>Zetterberg said, "On the surface, great progress seems to be +continuing. Afforestation of the Sahara, the solar pumps creating new +oases, the water purification plants on the Atlantic and +Mediterranean, pushing back the desert, the oil fields, the mines, the +roads, the damming of the Niger. But already cracks can be seen. A +week or so ago, a team of Cubans, supposedly, at least, in the Sudan +to improve sugar refining methods, were machine-gunned to death. By +whom? By the Sudanese? Unlikely. No, this Cuban massacre was one of +many recent signs of conflict between the great powers in their +efforts to dominate. Our problem, of course, deals only with North +Africa, but I have heard rumors in Geneva that much the same situation +is developing in the south as well."</p> + +<p>"At any rate, Dr. Crawford, when the rumors of El Hassan began to come +into this office they brought with them a breath of hope. From all we +have heard, he teaches our basic program—a breaking down of old +tribal society, education, economic progress, Pan-African unity. Dr. +Crawford, no one with whom this office is connected seems ever to have +seen this El Hassan but we are most anxious to talk to him. Perhaps +this is the man behind whom we can throw our support. Your task is to +find him."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford raked the fingers of his right hand back over his +short wiry hair, and grimaced. He said, "It won't be necessary."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image_002.jpg" width="500" height="575" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Doctor?"</p> + +<p>Crawford said, "It won't be necessary to go looking for El Hassan."</p> + +<p>The Swede scowled his irritation at the other. "See here...."</p> + +<p>Crawford said, "I'm El Hassan."</p> + +<p>Sven Zetterberg stared at him, uncomprehending.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford said, "I suppose it's your turn to listen and for me +to do the talking." He shifted in his chair, uncomfortably. "Dr. +Zetterberg, even before the Reunited Nations evolved the idea of the +African Development Project, it became obvious that the field work was +going to have to be in the hands of Negroes. The reason is doublefold. +First, the African doesn't trust the white man, for good reason. +Second, the white man is a citizen of his own country, first of all, +and finds it difficult not to have motives connected with his own race +and nation. But the African Negro, too, has his tribal and sometimes +national affiliations and cannot be trusted not to be prejudiced in +their favor. The answer? The educated American Negro, such as myself."</p> + +<p>"I haven't the slightest idea from whence came my ancestors, from what +part of Africa, what tribe, what nation. But I am a Negro and ... +well, have the dream of bettering my race. I have no irons in the +fire, beyond altruistic ones. Of course, when I say American Negroes I +don't exclude Canadian ones, or those of Latin America or the +Caribbean. It is simply that there are greater numbers of educated +American Negroes than you find elsewhere."</p> + +<p>Zetterberg said impatiently, "Please, Dr. Crawford. Come to the point. +That ridiculous statement you made about El Hassan."</p> + +<p>"Of course, I am merely giving background. Most of we field workers, +not only the African Development teams, but such organizations as the +Africa for Africans Association and the representatives of the African +Department of the British Commonwealth, and of the French Community's +African Affairs sector, are composed of Negroes."</p> + +<p>Zetterberg was nodding. "All right, I know."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford said, "The teams of all these organizations do their +best to spur African progress, in our case, in North Africa, +especially the area between the Niger and the Mediterranean. Often we +disguise ourselves as natives since in that manner we are more quickly +trusted. We wear the clothes, speak the local language or lingua +franca."</p> + +<p>The American hesitated a moment, then plunged in. "Dr. Zetterberg, the +African is still a primitive but newly beginning to move out of a +tradition-ritual-taboo tribal society. He seeks a hero to follow, a +man of towering prestige who knows the answers to all questions. We +may not <i>like</i> this fact, we with our traditions of democracy, but it +is so. The African is simply not yet at that stage of society where +political democracy is applicable."</p> + +<p>"My team does most of its work posing as Enaden—low caste itinerant +smiths of the Sahara. As such we can go any place and are everywhere +accepted, a necessary sector of the Saharan economy. As such, we +continually spread the ... ah, propaganda of the Reunited Nations—the +need for education, the need for taking jobs on the new projects, the +need for casting aside old institutions and embracing the new. Early +in the game we found our words had little weight coming from simple +Enaden smiths so we ... well, <i>invented</i> this mysterious El Hassan, +and everything we said we attributed to him."</p> + +<p>"News spreads fast in the desert, astonishingly fast. El Hassan +started with us but soon other teams, hearing about him and realizing +that his message was the same as that they were trying to propagate, +did the same thing. That is, attributed the messages they had to +spread to El Hassan. It was amusing when a group of us got together +last week in Timbuktu, to find that we'd all taken to kowtowing to +this mythical desert hero who planned to unite all North Africa."</p> + +<p>The Swede was staring at him unbelievingly. "But, a bit earlier you +said you were El Hassan."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford looked into his chief's face and nodded seriously. +"I've been conferring with various other field workers, both Reunited +Nations and otherwise. The situation calls for a real El Hassan. If we +don't provide him, someone else will. I propose to take over the +position."</p> + +<p>Sven Zetterberg's face was suddenly cold. "And why, Dr. Crawford, do +you think you are more qualified than others?"</p> + +<p>The American Negro could hardly fail to note the other's disapproval. +He said evenly, but definitely, "Through experience. Through +education. Through ... through having the dream, Dr. Zetterberg."</p> + +<p>"The Reunited Nations cannot support such a project, Dr. Crawford. I +absolutely forbid you to consider it."</p> + +<p>"Forbid me?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was as though a strange something entered the atmosphere of the +room, almost as though a new <i>presence</i> was there. And almost, it +seemed to Sven Zetterberg, that the already tall, solidly built man +across from him grew physically as his voice seemed to swell, to reach +out, to dominate. There was a new, and all but unbelievable Homer +Crawford here.</p> + +<p>The Swedish official regathered his forces. This was ridiculous. He +said again, "I forbid you to...." the sentence dribbled away under the +cold disdain in the air now.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford said flatly, "You don't seem to understand, Zetterberg. +The Reunited Nations has no control over El Hassan. Homer Crawford, as +of this meeting, has resigned his post with the African Development +Project. And El Hassan has begun his task of uniting all North +Africa."</p> + +<p>Sven Zetterberg, shaken by this new and unsuspected force the other +seemed to be able to bring to his command, fought back. "It will be +simple to discredit you, to let it be known that you are no more than +an ambitious American out to seize power illegally."</p> + +<p>Crawford's scorn held an element of amusement. "Try it. I suspect your +attempts to discredit El Hassan will prove unsuccessful. He has +already been rumored to be everything from an Ethiopian to the Second +Coming of the Messiah. Your attempt to brand him an American +adventurer will be swallowed up in the flood of other rumor."</p> + +<p>The Swede was still shaken by the strange manner in which his once +subordinate had suddenly dominated him. Sven Zetterberg was not a man +to be dominated, to be made unsure.</p> + +<p>Time folded back on itself and for a moment he was again a lad and on +vacation with his father in Bavaria. They were having lunch in the +famed Hofbraühaus, largest of the Munich beercellars, and even a +ten-year-old could sense an anticipation in the air, particularly +among the large number of brownshirted men who had gathered to one +side of the ground level of the beer hall. His father was telling Sven +of the history of the medieval building when a silence fell. Into the +beer hall had come a pasty faced, trenchcoat garbed little man, his +face set in stern lines but insufficiently to offset the ludicrous +mustache. He was accompanied by an elderly soldier in the uniform of a +Field Marshal, by a large tub of a man whose face beamed—but +evilly—and by a pinch faced cripple. All were men of command, all +except the pasty faced one, to whom they seemingly and surprisingly, +deferred. And then he stood on a heavy chair and spoke. And then his +<i>power</i> reached out and grasped all within reach of his shrill voice. +Grasped them and compelled them and they became a shouting, red faced, +arm brandishing mob, demanding to be led to glory. And Sven's father +had bustled the shocked boy from the building.</p> + +<p>It came back to him now, clearly and forcefully, and he realized that +whatever it was with which the Beast of Berchtesgaden had enchanted +his people, that power was on call in Homer Crawford. Whether he used +it for good or evil, that enchanting power was on call. And again Sven +Zetterberg was shaken.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford was on his feet, preparatory to leaving.</p> + +<p>The Swede simply <i>had</i> to reassert himself. "Dr. Crawford, the +Reunited Nations is not without resources. You'll be arrested before +you leave Dakar."</p> + +<p>An element of the tenseness left the air when Crawford smiled and +said, "Doctor, for several years now I have been playing hide and seek +in the Sahara, doing your work. You mentioned earlier that my team is +the most experienced and capable. Just whom are you going to send to +pick me up? Members of some of the other teams? Old friends and +comrades in arms. Many of whom owe their lives to my team when all +bets were down. Please do send them, Doctor, I am going to need +recruits."</p> + +<p>He swung and left the office and even as he went could hear the angry +Reunited Nations chief blasting into an interoffice communicator. He +decided he'd better see if there wasn't a back door or window through +which to leave the building. He'd have to phone Bey, Isobel and the +others and get together for a meeting to plan developments. El Hassan +was getting off to a fast start, already he was on the lam.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="p1">H</span>omer Crawford played it safe. From the nearest public phone he called +Isobel Cunningham at the Hotel Juan-le-Pin. No matter how fast Sven +Zetterberg swung into action, it would take his operatives some time +to connect Isobel with Homer and his team. As an employee of the +Africa for Africans Association, she would ordinarily come in little +contact with the Reunited Nations teams.</p> + +<p>He said, "Isobel? Homer here. Can you talk?"</p> + +<p>She said, "Cliff and Jake are here."</p> + +<p>He said, "Have you sounded them out? How do they feel about the El +Hassan project?"</p> + +<p>"They're in. At least, Jake is. We're still arguing with Cliff."</p> + +<p>"O.K. Now listen, carefully. Zetterberg turned thumbs down on the +whole deal, for various reasons we can discuss later. In fact, he's +incensed and threatened to take steps to keep us from leaving Dakar."</p> + +<p>Isobel was alerted but she snorted deprecation. "What do you want?"</p> + +<p>"They're probably already looking for me, and in a matter of minutes +will probably try to pick up Bey-ag-Akhamouk, Elmer Allen and Kenny +Ballalou, the other members of my team. Get in touch with them +immediately and tell them to get into native costume and into hiding. +You and Jake—and Cliff—do the same."</p> + +<p>"Right. Where do we meet and when?"</p> + +<p>"In the <i>souk</i>, in the food market. There's a native restaurant there, +run by a former Vietnamese. We'll meet there at approximately noon."</p> + +<p>"Right. Anything else?"</p> + +<p>Homer said, "Tell Bey to bring along an extra 9mm Recoilless for me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, El Hassan," she said, her voice expressionless. She didn't waste +time. Homer Crawford heard the phone click as she hung up.</p> + +<p>He was in a branch building of the post and telegraph network on the +Rue des Resistance. Before leaving it, he looked out a window. Half a +block away was the office of the Sahara Division of the African +Development Project. Even as he watched, a dozen men hurried out the +front door, fanned out in all directions.</p> + +<p>Homer grinned sourly. Old Sven was moving fast.</p> + +<p>He shot a quick glance around the lobby of the building. He had to get +going. Zetterberg had started with a dozen men to trail down El +Hassan. He'd probably have a hundred involved before the hour was out.</p> + +<p>A corridor turned off to the right. Homer hurried down it. At each +door he looked inside. To whoever occupied the room he murmured a few +words of apology in Wolof, the Sengalese lingua franca. The fourth +office was empty.</p> + +<p>Homer stood there before it for a long, agonizing moment, waiting for +the right person to pass. Finally, the man he needed came along. +About six feet tall, about a hundred and eighty; dressed in the local +native dress and on the ragged side.</p> + +<p>Homer said to him authoritatively, in the Wolof tongue, "You there, +come in here!" He opened the door, and pointed into the office.</p> + +<p>The other, taken aback, demurred.</p> + +<p>Homer's face and tone went still more commanding. "Step in here, +before I call the police."</p> + +<p>It was all a mistake, of course. The Senegalese made the gesture +equivalent to the European's shrug, and entered the office.</p> + +<p>Homer came in behind him, closed the door. He wasted no time in +preliminaries. Before the native turned, the American's hand lashed +out in a karate blow which stunned the other. Homer Crawford caught +him, even as he fell, and lowered him gently to the floor.</p> + +<p>"Sorry, old boy," he muttered, "but this is probably the most +profitable thing that's happened to you this year."</p> + +<p>He stripped off the other's clothes, as rapidly as he could make his +hands fly. The other was still out and probably would be for another +ten minutes, Crawford estimated. He stripped off his own clothes and +donned the native's.</p> + +<p>Last of all, he took his wallet from his pocket, divided the money it +contained and stuffed a considerable wad of it into the European +clothing he was abandoning.</p> + +<p>"Don't spend all of that in one place," he growled softly.</p> + +<p>Homer dragged the other to a side of the room so that the body could +not be spotted from the entrance. Then he crossed to the door, opened +it and stepped into the corridor beyond.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There was no need for sulking. He walked out the front door and headed +away from the dock and administration buildings area and toward the +native section, passing the Reunited Nations building on the way.</p> + +<p>Dakar teems with multitudes of a dozen tribes come in from the jungles +and the bush, the desert and the swamp areas of the sources of the +Niger, to look for work on the new projects, to visit relatives, to +market for the products of civilization—or to gawk. Homer Crawford +disappeared into them. One among many.</p> + +<p>Toward noon, he entered the cleared area which was the restaurant he +had named to Isobel and squatted before the pots to the far end of the +Vietnamese owned eatery, examining them with care. He chose a large +chunk of barbequed goat and was served it with a half pound piece of +unsalted Senegalese bread, torn from a monstrous loaf, and a twisted +piece of newspaper into which had been measured an ounce or so of +coarse salt. He took his meal and went to as secluded a corner as he +could find.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford chuckled inwardly. That morning he had breakfasted in +the most swank hotel in West Africa. He wished there was some manner +in which he could have invited Sven Zetterberg to dine here with him. +Or, come to think of it, a group of the students he had once taught +sociology at the University of Michigan. Or, possibly, prexy +Wallington, under whom he had worked while taking his doctor's degree.</p> + +<p>Yes, it would have been interesting to have had a luncheon companion.</p> + +<p>A native woman, on the stoutish side but with her hair done up in one +of the fabulously ornate hair styles specialized in by the Senegalese, +and wearing a flowing, shapeless dress of the garish textiles run off +purposely for this market in Japan and Manchester, waddled up to take +a place nearby. She bore a huge skewer of barbequed beef chunks, and a +hunk of bread not unlike Homer's own.</p> + +<p>She grumbled uncomfortably, her back to the American, as she settled +into a position on the floor. And she mumbled as she began chewing at +the meat.</p> + +<p><i>No table manners</i>, Homer Crawford grinned inwardly. He wondered how +long it would take for the others to get here. He wasn't worried about +Isobel, Cliff Jackson and Jake Armstrong. It would take time before +Zetterberg's Reunited Nations cloak and dagger boys got around to +them, but he wasn't sure that she'd be able to locate his own team in +time. That bit he'd given the Swede official about his being so +bully-bully with the other Reunited Nations teams was in the way of +being an exaggeration, with the idea of throwing the other off. +Actually, working in the field on definite assignments, it was seldom +you ran into other African Development Project men. But perhaps it +would tie Zetterberg up, wondering just who he could trust to send +looking for El Hassan.</p> + +<p>He finished off his barbequed goat and the bread and wiped his hands +on his clothes. Nobody here yet. To have an excuse for staying, he +would have to buy a bottle of Gazelle beer, the cheap Senegalese brew +which came in quart bottles and was warm and on the gassy side.</p> + +<p>It was then that the woman in front of him, without turning, said +softly, "El Hassan?"</p> + + +<h2>II</h2> + +<p><span class="p1">H</span>omer Crawford stared at her, unbelievingly. The woman couldn't +possibly be an emissary from Isobel or from one of his own companions. +This situation demanded the utmost secrecy, they hadn't had time to +screen any outsiders as to trustworthiness.</p> + +<p>She turned. It was Isobel. She chuckled softly, "You should see your +face."</p> + +<p>His eyes went to her figure.</p> + +<p>"Done with mirrors," Isobel said. "Or, at least, with pillows."</p> + +<p>Homer didn't waste time. "Where are the others? They should be here by +now."</p> + +<p>"We figured that the fewer of us seen on the streets, the better. So +they're waiting for you. Since I was the most easily disguised, the +least suspicious looking, I was elected to come get you."</p> + +<p>"Waiting where?"</p> + +<p>She licked the side of her mouth, a disconcerting characteristic of +hers, and looked at him archly. "Those pals of yours have quite a bit +on the ball on their own. They decided that there was a fairly good +chance that Sven Zetterberg wasn't exactly going to fall into your +arms, so they took preliminary measures. Kenny Ballalou rented a small +house, here in the native quarter. We've all rendezvoused there. See, +you aren't the only one on the ball."</p> + +<p>Homer frowned at her, for the moment being in no mood for humor. "What +was the idea of sitting here for the past five minutes without even +speaking? You must have recognized me, knowing what to look for."</p> + +<p>She nodded. "I ... I wasn't sure, Homer, but I had the darnedest +feeling I was being followed."</p> + +<p>His glance was sharp now. First at her, then a quick darting around +the vicinity. "Woman's intuition," he snapped, "or something +substantial?"</p> + +<p>She frowned at him. "I'm not a ninny, Homer."</p> + +<p>His voice softened and he said quickly, "Don't misunderstand, Isobel. +I know that."</p> + +<p>She forgot about her objection to his tone. "Even intuition doesn't +come out of a clear sky. Something sparks it. Subconscious psi, +possibly, but a spark."</p> + +<p>"However?" he prodded.</p> + +<p>"I took all precautions. I can't seem to put my finger on anything."</p> + +<p>"O.K.," he said decisively. "Let's go then." He came to his feet and +reached a hand down for her.</p> + +<p>"Heavens to Betsy," she said, "don't do that."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Help a woman in public. You'll look suspicious." She came to her own +feet, without aid.</p> + +<p><i>Damn</i>, he thought. She was right. The last thing he wanted was to +draw attention to a man who acted peculiarly.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>They made their way out of the food market and into the <i>souk</i> proper, +Homer walking three or four paces ahead of her, Isobel demurely +behind, her eyes on the ground. They passed the native stands and tiny +shops, and the even smaller venders and hucksters with their products +of the mass production industries of East and West, side by side with +the native handicrafts ranging from carved wooden statues, jewelry, +<i>gris gris</i> charms and kambu fetishes, to ceramics whose designs went +back to an age before the Portuguese first cruised off this coast. And +everywhere was color; there are no people on earth more color +conscious than the Senegalese.</p> + +<p>Isobel guided him, her voice quiet and still maintaining its +uncharacteristic demure quality.</p> + +<p>He would never have recognized Isobel, Homer Crawford told himself. +Isobel Cunningham, late of Columbia University where she'd taken her +Master's in anthropology. Isobel Cunningham, whom he had told on their +first meeting that she looked like the former singing star, Lena +Horne. Isobel Cunningham, slight of build, pixie of face, crisply +modern American with her tongue and wit. Was he in love with her? He +didn't know. El Hassan had no time, at present, for those things love +implied.</p> + +<p>She said, "Here," and led the way down a brick paved passage to a +small house, almost a hut, that lay beyond.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford looked about him critically before entering. He said, +"I suppose this has been scouted out adequately. Where's the back +entrance?" He scowled. "Haven't the boys posted a sentry?"</p> + +<p>A voice next to his ear said pleasantly, "Stick 'em up, stranger. +Where'd you get that zoot suit?"</p> + +<p>He jerked his head about. There was a very small opening in the wooden +wall next to him. It was Kenny Ballalou's voice.</p> + +<p>"Zoot suit, yet!" Homer snorted. "I haven't heard that term since I +was in rompers."</p> + +<p>"You in rompers I'd like to see," Kenny snorted in his turn. "Come on +in, everybody's here."</p> + +<p>The aged, unpainted, warped, wooden house consisted of two rooms, the +one three times as large as the second. The furniture was minimal, but +there was sitting room on chair, stool and bed for the seven of them.</p> + +<p>"Hail, O El Hassan!" Elmer Allen called sourly, as Homer entered.</p> + +<p>"And the hail with you," Homer called back, then, "Oops, sorry, +Isobel."</p> + +<p>Isobel put her hands on her hips, greatly widened by the stuffing +she'd placed beneath her skirts. "Look," she said. "Thus far, the El +Hassan organization, which claims rule of all North Africa, consists +of six men and one dame ... ah, that is, one lady. Just so the lady +won't continually feel that she's being a drag on the conversation, +you are hereby allowed in moments of stress such shocking profanity as +an occasional damn or hell. But only if said lady is also allowed such +expletives during periods of similar stress."</p> + +<p>Everyone laughed, and found chairs.</p> + +<p>"I'm in love with Isobel Cunningham," Bey announced definitely.</p> + +<p>"Second the motion," Elmer said.</p> + +<p>The rest of them called, "Aye."</p> + +<p>"O.K.," Homer Crawford said glumly, "I can see that this is going to +be one tight knit organization. Six men in love with the one dame ... +ah, that is, lady. Kind of a reverse harem deal. Oh, this is going to +lead to great co-operation."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>They laughed again and then Jake said, "Well, what's the story, Homer? +How does the El Hassan project sound to Zetterberg and the Reunited +Nations?"</p> + +<p>Cliff Jackson laughed bitterly. "Why do you think we're in hiding?" +Only he and Jake Armstrong wore western clothing. Kenny Ballalou, +Bey-ag-Akhamouk and Elmer Allen were in native dress, similar to that +of Homer Crawford. Elmer Allen even bore a pilgrim's staff.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_003.jpg" width="300" height="852" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Crawford, glad that the edge of tenseness had been taken off the group +by the banter with Isobel, turned serious now.</p> + +<p>He said, "This is where we each take our stand. You can turn back at +this point, any one of you, and things will undoubtedly go on as +before. You'll keep your jobs, have no marks against you. Beyond this +point, and there's no turning back. I want you all to think it over, +before coming to any snap decisions."</p> + +<p>Elmer Allen said, his face wearing its usual all but sullen +expression. "How about you?"</p> + +<p>Homer said evenly, "I've already taken my stand."</p> + +<p>Kenny Ballalou yawned and said, "I've been in this team for three or +four years, I'm too lazy to switch now Besides, I've always wanted to +be a corrupt politician. Can I be treasurer in this El Hassan regime?"</p> + +<p>"No," Homer said. "Bey?"</p> + +<p>Bey-ag-Akhamouk said, "I've always wanted to be a general. I'll come +in under those circumstances."</p> + +<p>Homer said, his voice still even. "That's out. From this point in, +you're a Field Marshal and Minister of Defense."</p> + +<p>"Shucks," Bey said. "I'd always wanted to be a general."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford said dryly, "Doesn't anybody take this seriously? It's +probably going to mean all your necks before it's through, you know."</p> + +<p>Elmer Allen said dourly, "I take it seriously. I spent the idealistic +years, the school years, working for peace, democracy, a better world. +Now, here I am, helping to attempt to establish a tyranny over half +the continent of my racial background. But I'm in."</p> + +<p>"Right," Homer said, the side of his mouth twitching. "You can be our +Minister of Propaganda."</p> + +<p>"Minister of Propaganda!" Elmer wailed. "You mean like Goebbels? Me!"</p> + +<p>Homer laughed. "O.K., we'll call it Minister of Information, or Press +Secretary to El Hassan. It all means the same thing." He looked at +Jacob Armstrong and said, "How old are you, Jake?"</p> + +<p>"That's none of your business," the white-haired Jake said +aggressively. "I'm in. El Hassan is the only answer. North Africa has +got to be united, both for internal and external purposes. If you ... +if we ... don't do the job first, somebody else will, and off hand, I +can't think of anybody else I trust. I'm in."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford looked at him for a long moment. "Yes," he said +finally. "Of course you are. Jake, you've just been made our combined +Foreign Minister and Plenipotentiary Extraordinary to the Reunited +Nations. You'll leave immediately, first for Geneva, to present our +demands to the Reunited Nations, then to New York."</p> + +<p>"What do I do in New York?" Jake Armstrong said blankly, trying to +assimilate the curves that were being thrown to him.</p> + +<p>"You raise money and support from starry eyed Negro groups and +individuals. You line up such organizations as the Africa for Africans +Association behind El Hassan. You give speeches, and ruin your liver +eating at banquets every night in the week. You send out releases to +the press. You get all the publicity for the El Hassan movement you +can. You send official protests to the governments of every country in +the world, every time they do something that doesn't fit in with our +needs. You locate recruits and send them here to Africa to take over +some of the load. I don't have to tell you what to do. You can think +on your feet as well as I can. Do what is necessary. You're our +Foreign Minister. Don't let us see your face again until El Hassan is +in control of North Africa."</p> + +<p>Jake Armstrong blinked. "How will I prove I'm your representative? +I'll need more than just a note <i>To Whom It May Concern</i>."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford thought about that.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bey said, "One of our first jobs is going to have to be to capture a +town where they have a broadcast station, say Zinder or In Salah. When +we do, we'll announce that you're Foreign Minister."</p> + +<p>Crawford nodded. "That's obviously the ticket. By that time you should +be in New York, with an office opened."</p> + +<p>Jake rubbed a black hand over his cheek as though checking his morning +shave. "It's going to take some money to get started. Once started I +can depend on contributions, perhaps, but at first...."</p> + +<p>Homer interrupted with, "Cliff, you're Minister of the Treasury. +Raise some money."</p> + +<p>"Eh?" Cliff Jackson said blankly. The king-size, easy-going +Californian looked more like the early Joe Louis than ever.</p> + +<p>Everybody laughed. Elmer Allen came forth with his wallet and began +pulling out such notes as it contained. "I don't know what we'd be +doing with this in the desert," he said.</p> + +<p>Isobel said, "I have almost three thousand dollars in a checking +account in New York. Let's see if I have my checkbook here."</p> + +<p>The others were going through their pockets. As bank notes in British +pounds, American dollars, French francs and Common Europe marks +emerged they were tossed to the center of the small table which +wobbled on three legs in the middle of the room.</p> + +<p>Elmer Allen said, "I have an account with the Bank of Jamaica in +Kingston. About four hundred pounds, I think. I'll have it +transferred."</p> + +<p>Cliff took up the money and began counting it, making notations on a +notebook pad as he went.</p> + +<p>Bey said, "We're only going to be able to give Jake part of this."</p> + +<p>"How's that?" Elmer growled. "What use have we for money in the +Sahara? Jake's got to put up a decent front in Geneva and New York."</p> + +<p>Bey said doggedly, "As Defense Minister, I'm opposed to El Hassan's +followers <i>ever</i> taking anything without generous payment. We'll need +food and various services. From the beginning, we're going to have to +pay our way. We can't afford to let rumors start going around that +we're nothing but a bunch of brigands."</p> + +<p>"Bey's right," Homer nodded. "The El Hassan movement is going to have +to maintain itself on the highest ethical level. We're going to take +over where the French Camel Corps left off and police North Africa. +There can't be a man from Somaliland to Mauretania who can say that +one of El Hassan's followers liberated him from as much as a date."</p> + +<p>Kenny Ballalou said, "You can always requisition whatever you need and +give them a receipt, and then we'll pay off when we come to power."</p> + +<p>"That's out!" Bey snapped. "Most of these people can't read. And even +those that do don't trust what they read. A piece of paper, in their +eyes, is no return for some goats, or flour, camels, horses, or +whatever else it might be we need. No, we're going to have to pay our +way."</p> + +<p>Crawford raked a hand back through his wiry hair. "Bey's right, Kenny. +It's going to be a rough go, especially at first."</p> + +<p>Kenny snorted. "What do you mean, <i>at first?</i> What's going to happen, +<i>at second</i> to make it any easier? Where're we going to get all this +money we'll need to pay for even what we ourselves use, not to speak +of the thousands of men we're going to have to have if El Hassan is +ever to come to power?"</p> + +<p>Bey's eyebrows went up in shocked innocence. "Kenny, dear boy, don't +misunderstand. We don't requisition anything from individuals, or +clans, or small settlements. But if we take over a town such as Gao, +or Niamey, or Colomb-Béchar, or wherever, there is nothing to say that +a legal government such as that of El Hassan, can't requisition the +contents of the local banks."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford said with dignity, "The term, my dear Minister of +Defense, currently is to <i>nationalize</i> the bank. Whether or not we +wish to have the banks remain nationalized, after we take over, we can +figure out later. But in the early stages, I'm afraid we're going to +have to nationalize just about every bank we come in contact with."</p> + +<p>Cliff Jackson said cautiously, "I haven't said whether or not I'll +come in yet, but just as a point, I might mention issuing your own +legal tender. As soon as you liberate a printing press somewhere, of +course."</p> + +<p>Everyone was charmed at the idea.</p> + +<p>Isobel said, "You can see Cliff was <i>meant</i> to be Minister of +Treasury. He's got <i>wholesale</i> larceny in his soul, none of this +picayunish stuff such as robbing nomads of their sheep."</p> + +<p>Elmer Allen was shaking his head sadly. "This whole conversation +started with Bey protesting that we couldn't allow ourselves to be +thought of as brigands. Now listen to you all."</p> + +<p>Kenny Ballalou said with considerable dignity, "See here, friend. +Don't you know the difference between brigandage and international +finance?"</p> + +<p>"No," Elmer said flatly.</p> + +<p>"Hm-m-m," Kenny said.</p> + +<p>"Let's get on with this," Homer said. "The forming of El Hassan's +basic government is beginning to take on aspects of a minstrel show. +Then we've all declared ourselves in ... except Cliff."</p> + +<p>All eyes turned to the bulky Californian.</p> + +<p>He sat scowling.</p> + +<p>Homer said, easily, "You're not being urged, Cliff. You can turn back +at this point."</p> + +<p>Elmer Allen growled, "You came to Africa to help your race develop its +continent. To conquer such problems as sufficient food, clothing and +shelter for all. To bring education and decent medical care to a +people who have had possibly the lowest living standards anywhere. Can +you see any way of achieving this beyond the El Hassan movement?"</p> + +<p>Cliff looked at him, still scowling stubbornly. "That's not why I came +to Africa."</p> + +<p>Their eyes were all on him, but they remained silent.</p> + +<p>He said, defensively, "I'm no do-gooder. I took a job with the Africa +for Africans Association because it was the best job I could find."</p> + +<p>Isobel broke the silence by saying softly, "I doubt it, Cliff."</p> + +<p>The big man stood up from where he'd been seated on the bed. "O.K., +O.K. Possibly there were other angles. I wanted to travel. Wanted to +see Africa. Besides, it was good background for some future job. I +figured it wouldn't hurt me any, in later years, applying for some +future job. Maybe with some Negro concern in the States. I'd be able +to say I'd put in a few years in Africa. Something like a Jew in New +York who was a veteran of the Israel-Arab wars, before the debacle."</p> + +<p>They still looked at him, none of them accusingly.</p> + +<p>He was irritated as he paced. "Don't you see? Everybody doesn't have +this <i>dream</i> that Homer's always talking about. That doesn't mean I'm +abnormal. I just don't have the interest you do. All I want is a good +job, some money in the bank, security back in the States. I'm not +interested in dashing all over the globe, getting shot at, dying for +some ideal."</p> + +<p>Homer said gently, "It's up to you, Cliff. Nobody's twisting your +arm."</p> + +<p>There was sweat on the big man's forehead. "All I came to Africa for +was the job, the money I got out of it," he repeated, insisting.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>To Homer Crawford suddenly came the realization that the other needed +an out, an excuse. An explanation to himself for doing something he +wanted to do but wouldn't admit because it went against the +opportunistic code he told himself he followed.</p> + +<p>Homer said, "All right. How much are you making as a field worker for +the Africa for Africans Association?"</p> + +<p>Cliff looked at him, uncomprehending. "Eight thousand dollars, plus +expenses."</p> + +<p>"O.K., we'll double that. Sixteen thousand to begin with, as El +Hassan's Minister of Treasury and whatever other duties we can think +of to hang on you."</p> + +<p>There was a long moment of silence, unbroken by any of the others. +Finally in a gesture of desperation, Cliff Jackson waved at the money +and checks sitting on the center table. "Sixteen thousand a year! The +whole organization doesn't have enough to pay me six months' salary."</p> + +<p>Homer said mildly, "That's why your pay was doubled. You have to take +risks to make money in this world, Cliff. If El Hassan does come to +power, undoubtedly you'll get other raises—along with greater +responsibility."</p> + +<p>He looked into Cliff Jackson's face, and although his words had dealt +with money, a man's dream looked out from his eyes. And the force of +personality that could emanate from Homer Crawford, possibly +unbeknownst to himself, flooded over the huge Californian. The others +in the room could feel it. Elmer Allen cleared his throat; Isobel held +her elbows to her sides, in a feminine protest against naked male +psychic strength.</p> + +<p>Kenny Ballalou said without inflection, "Put up or shut up, Cliff old +pal."</p> + +<p>Cliff Jackson sank back onto the spot on the bed he'd occupied before. +"I'm in," he muttered, so softly as hardly to be heard.</p> + +<p>"None of you are in," a voice from the doorway said.</p> + +<p>The figure that stood there held a thin, but heavy calibered +automatic in his hand.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="p1">H</span>e was a dapper man, neat, trim, smart. His clothes were those of +Greater Washington, rather than Dakar and West Africa. His facial +expression seemed overly alert, overly bright, and his features were +more Caucasian than Negroid.</p> + +<p>He said, "I believe you all know me. Fredric Ostrander."</p> + +<p>"Of the Central Intelligence Agency," Homer Crawford said dryly. He as +well as Bey, Elmer and Kenny had risen to their feet when the newcomer +entered from the smaller of the hut's two rooms. "What's the gun for, +Ostrander?"</p> + +<p>"You're under arrest," the C.I.A. man said evenly.</p> + +<p>Elmer Allen snorted. "Under whose authority are you working? As a +Jamaican, I'm a citizen of the West Indies and a subject of Her +Majesty."</p> + +<p>"We'll figure that out later," Ostrander rapped. "I'm sure the +appropriate Commonwealth authorities will co-operate with the State +Department and the Reunited Nations in this matter." The gun +unwaveringly went from one of them to the other, retraced itself.</p> + +<p>Bey looked at Homer Crawford.</p> + +<p>Crawford shook his head gently.</p> + +<p>He said to the newcomer, "The question still stands, Ostrander. Under +whose authority are you operating? I don't think you have jurisdiction +over us. We're in Africa, not in the United States of the Americas."</p> + +<p>Ostrander said tightly, "Right now I'm operating under the authority +of this weapon in my hand. Dr. Crawford. Do you realize that all of +you Americans here are risking your citizenship?"</p> + +<p>Kenny Ballalou said, "Oh? Tell us more, Mr. State Department man."</p> + +<p>"You're serving in the armed forces of a foreign power."</p> + +<p>Even the dour Elmer Allen laughed at that one.</p> + +<p>Crawford said, "The fact of the matter is, we <i>are</i> the foreign +power."</p> + +<p>"You're not amusing, Dr. Crawford," Ostrander said. "I've kept up with +this situation since you had that conference in Timbuktu. The State +Department has no intention of allowing some opportunist, backed by +known communists and fellow travelers, to seize power in this portion +of the world. In a matter of months the Soviets would be in here."</p> + +<p>Isobel said evenly, "I was formerly a member of the Party. I no longer +am. I am an active opponent of the Soviet Complex at the moment, +especially in regard to its activity in Africa."</p> + +<p>Ostrander snorted his disbelief.</p> + +<p>Elmer Allen said, "You chaps never forget, do you?" He looked at the +others and explained. "Back during college days, I signed a few peace +petitions, that sort of thing. Ever since, every time I come in +contact with these people, you'd think I was Lenin or Trotsky."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford said, "My opinion is, Ostrander, that you've had to +move too quickly to check back with your superiors. Has the State +Department actually instructed you to arrest me and my companions here +on foreign soil, without a warrant?"</p> + +<p>Ostrander clipped, "That's my responsibility. I'm taking you all in. +We'll solve such problems as jurisdiction and warrants when I get you +to the Reunited Nations headquarters."</p> + +<p>"Ah?" Homer Crawford said. "And then what happens to us?"</p> + +<p>Ostrander jiggled the gun, impatiently. "Sven Zetterberg is of the +opinion that you should immediately be flown out of Africa and the +case brought before the High Council of the African Development +Project. What measures will be taken beyond that point I have no way +of knowing."</p> + +<p>Bey took a step to the left, Kenny Ballalou one to the right. Homer +Crawford remained immediately before the C.I.A. operative, his hands +slightly out from his sides, palms slightly forward.</p> + +<p>Ostrander snapped, "I'm prepared to fire, you men. I don't +underestimate the importance of this situation. If your crazy scheme +makes any progress at all, it might well result in the death of +thousands. I know your background, Crawford. You once taught judo in +the Marines. I'm not unfamiliar with the art myself."</p> + +<p>Isobel had a hand to her mouth, her eyes were wide. "Boys, don't ..." +she began.</p> + +<p>Elmer Allen had been leaning on his pilgrim's staff, as though weary +with this whole matter. He said to Ostrander, interestedly, "So you've +been checked out on judo? Know anything about the use of the +quarterstaff?"</p> + +<p>Ostrander kept his gun traversing between the four of them. "Eh?" he +said.</p> + +<p>Elmer Allen shifted his grip on his staff infinitesimally. Of a +sudden, the end of the staff, now gripped with both hands near the +center, moved at invisibly high speed. There was a crack of the wrist +bone, and the gun went flying. The other end of the staff flicked out +and rapped the C.I.A. operative smartly on the head.</p> + +<p>Fredric Ostrander crumbled to the floor.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Confound it, Elmer," Crawford said. "What'd you have to go and do +that for? I wanted to talk to him some more and send a message back to +Zetterberg. Sooner or later we've got to make our peace with the +Reunited Nations."</p> + +<p>Elmer said embarrassedly, "Sorry, it just happened. I was merely going +to knock the gun out of his hand, but then I couldn't help myself. I +was tired of hearing that holier-than-thou voice of his."</p> + +<p>Kenny Ballalou looked down at the fallen man gloomily. "He'll be out +for an hour. You're lucky you didn't crack his skull."</p> + +<p>"Holy Mackerel," Cliff Jackson said. "I'm going to have to learn to +operate one of those things."</p> + +<p>Elmer Allen handed him the supposed pilgrim's staff. "Best +hand-to-hand combat weapon ever invented," he said. "The British +yeoman's quarterstaff. Of course, this is a modernized version. Made +of epoxy resin glass-fiber material, treated to look like wood. That +stuff can turn a high-velocity bullet, let alone a sword, and it can +be bent in a ninety degree arc without the slightest effect, although +it'd take a power-driven testing machine to do it."</p> + +<p>"All right, all right," Homer said. "We haven't got time for lessons +in the use of the quarterstaff. Let's put some thought to this +situation. If Ostrander here was able to find us, somebody else would, +too."</p> + +<p>Isobel licked the side of her mouth. "He was probably following me. +Remember, I told you Homer?"</p> + +<p>Kenny said, "If he had anyone with him, he'd have brought them along +to cover him. You've got to give him credit for bravery, taking on the +whole bunch of us by himself."</p> + +<p>"Um-m-m," Homer said. "I wish he was with us instead of against us."</p> + +<p>Jake Armstrong said, "Well, this solves one problem."</p> + +<p>They looked at him.</p> + +<p>He said, "Just as sure as sure, he's got a car parked somewhere. A car +with some sort of United States or Reunited Nations emblem on it."</p> + +<p>"So what?" Kenny said.</p> + +<p>"So you've got to get out of town before the search for you <i>really</i> +gets under way. With such a car, you can get past any roadblock that +might already be up between here and the Yoff airport."</p> + +<p>Elmer Allen had sunk to his knees and was searching the fallen C.I.A. +man. He came up with car keys and a wallet.</p> + +<p>Homer said to Jake Armstrong, "Why the Yoff airport?"</p> + +<p>"Our plane is there," Jake told him. "The one assigned Isobel, Cliff +and me by the AFAA. You're going to have to make time. Get somewhere +out in the ah, boondocks, where you can begin operations."</p> + +<p>Bey said thoughtfully, "He's right, Homer. Anybody against us, like +our friend here"—he nodded at Ostrander—"is going to try to get us +quick, before we can get the El Hassan movement under way. We've got +to get out of Dakar and into some area where they'll have their work +cut out trying to locate us."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford accepted their council. "O.K., let's get going. Jake, +you'll stay in Dakar, and at first play innocent. As soon as possible, +take plane for Geneva. As soon as you're there, send out press +releases to all the news associations and the larger papers. Announce +yourself as Foreign Minister of El Hassan and demand that he be +recognized as the legal head of state of all North Africa."</p> + +<p>"Wow," Cliff Jackson said.</p> + +<p>"Then play it by ear," Homer finished.</p> + +<p>He turned to the others. "Bey, where'd you leave our two hover-lorries +when you came here to Dakar?"</p> + +<p>"Stashed away in the ruins of a former mansion in Timbuktu. Hired two +Songhai to watch them."</p> + +<p>"O.K. Cliff, you're the only one in European dress. Take this wallet +of Ostrander's. You'll drive the car. If we run into any roadblocks +between here and the Yoff airport, slow down a little and hold the +wallet out to show your supposed identification. They won't take the +time to check the photo. Bluff your way past, don't completely stop +the car."</p> + +<p>"What happens if they do stop us?" Cliff said worriedly.</p> + +<p>Kenny Ballalou said, "That'll be just too bad for them."</p> + +<p>Bey stooped and scooped up the fallen automatic of Fredric Ostrander +and tucked it into the voluminous folds of his native robe. "Here we +go again," he said.</p> + + +<h2>III</h2> + +<p><span class="p1">T</span>he man whose undercover name was Anton, landed at Gibraltar in a BEA +roco-jet, passed quickly through customs and immigration with his +Commonwealth passport and made his way into town. He checked with a +Bobby and found that he had a two-hour wait until the Mons Capa ferry +left for Tangier, and spent the time wandering up and down Main +Street, staring into the Indian shops with their tax-free cameras from +Common Europe, textiles from England, optical equipment from Japan, +and cheap souvenirs from everywhere. Gibraltar, the tourist's shopping +paradise.</p> + +<p>The trip between Gibraltar and Tangier takes approximately two hours. +If you've never made it before, you stand on deck and watch Spain +recede behind you, and Africa loom closer. This was where Hercules +supposedly threw up his Pillars, Gibraltar being the one on the +European shore. Those who have made the trip again and again, sit down +in the bar and enjoy the tax-free prices. The man named Anton stood on +the deck. He was African by birth, but he'd never been to Morocco +before.</p> + +<p>When he landed, he made the initial error of expecting the local +citizenry to speak Arabic. They didn't. Rif, a Berber tongue, was the +first language. The man called Anton had to speak French to make known +his needs. He took a Chico cab up from the port to the El Minza hotel, +immediately off the Plaza de France, the main square of the European +section.</p> + +<p>At the hotel entrance were two jet-black doormen attired in a +pseudo-Moroccan costume of red fez, voluminous pants and yellow +barusha slippers. They made no note of his complexion, there is no +color bar in the Islamic world.</p> + +<p>He had reservations at the desk. He left his passport there to go +through the standard routine, including being checked by the police, +had his bag sent up to his room and, a few minutes later, hands +nonchalantly in pockets, strolled along the Rue de Liberté toward the +casbah area of the medina. Up from the native section of town streamed +hordes of costumed Rifs, Arabs, Berbers of a dozen tribes, even an +occasional Blue Man. At least half the women still wore the haik and +veil, half the men the burnoose. Africa changes slowly, the man +called Anton admitted to himself all over again—so slowly.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_004.jpg" width="600" height="167" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Down from the European section, which could have been a Californian +city, filtered every nation of the West, from every section of Common +Europe, the Americas, the Soviet Complex. If any city in the world is +a melting pot, it is Tangier, where Africa meets Europe and where East +meets West.</p> + +<p>He passed through the teaming Grand Zocco market, and through the +gates of the old city. He took Rue Singhalese, the only street in the +medina wide enough to accommodate a vehicle and went almost as far as +the Zocco Chico, once considered the most notorious square in the +world.</p> + +<p>For a moment the man called Anton stood before one of the Indian shops +and stared at the window's contents. Carved ivory statuettes from the +Far East, cameras from Japan, ebony figurines, chess sets of water +jade, gimcracks from everywhere.</p> + +<p>A Hindu stood in the doorway and rubbed his hands in a gesture so +stereotyped as to be ludicrous. "Sir, would you like to enter my shop? +I have amazing bargains."</p> + +<p>The man they called Anton entered.</p> + +<p>He looked about the shop, otherwise empty of customers. Vaguely, he +wondered if the other ever sold anything, and, if so, to whom.</p> + +<p>He said, "I was looking for an ivory elephant, from the East."</p> + +<p>The Indian's eyebrows rose. "A white elephant?"</p> + +<p>"A red elephant," the man called Anton said.</p> + +<p>"In here," the Hindu said evenly, and led the way to the rear.</p> + +<p>The rooms beyond were comfortable but not ostentatious. They passed +through a livingroom-study to an office beyond. The door was open and +the Indian merely gestured in the way of introduction, and then left.</p> + +<p>Kirill Menzhinsky, agent superior of the <i>Chrezvychainaya Komissiya</i> +for North Africa, looked up from his desk, smiled his pleasure, came +to his feet and held out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Anton!" he said. "I've been expecting you."</p> + +<p>The man they called Anton smiled honestly and shook. "Kirill," he +said. "It's been a long time."</p> + +<p>The other motioned to a comfortable armchair, resumed his own seat. +"It's been a long time all right—almost five years. As I recall, I +was slung over your shoulder, and you were wading through those +confounded swamps. The ..."</p> + +<p>"The Everglades."</p> + +<p>"Yes." The heavy-set Russian espionage chief chuckled. "You are much +stronger than you look, Anton. As I recall, I ordered you to abandon +me."</p> + +<p>The wiry Negro grunted deprecation. "You were delirious from your +wound."</p> + +<p>The Russian came to his feet, turned his back and went to a small +improvised bar. He said, his voice low, "No, Anton, I wasn't +delirious. Perhaps a bit afraid, but then the baying of dogs is +disconcerting."</p> + +<p>The man they called Anton said, "It is all over now."</p> + +<p>The Russian returned and said, "A drink, Anton? As I recall you were +never the man to refuse a drink. Scotch, bourbon, vodka?"</p> + +<p>The other shrugged. "I believe in drinking the local product. What is +the beverage of Tangier?"</p> + +<p>Kirill Menzhinsky took up a full bottle the contents of which had a +greenish, somewhat <i>oily</i> tinge. "Absinthe," he said. "Guaranteed to +turn your brains to mush if you take it long enough. What was the name +of that French painter...?"</p> + +<p>"Toulouse Lautrec," Anton supplied. "I thought the stuff was illegal +these days." He watched the other add water to the potent liqueur.</p> + +<p>The Russian chuckled. "Nothing is illegal in Tangier, my dear Anton, +except the Party." He laughed at his own joke and handed the other his +glass. He poured himself a jolt of vodka and returned to his chair. +"To the world revolution, Anton."</p> + +<p>The Negro saluted with his drink. "The revolution!"</p> + +<p>They drank.</p> + +<p>The Russian put down his glass and sighed. "I wish we were some place +in our own lands, Anton. Dinner, many drinks, perhaps some girls, eh?"</p> + +<p>Anton shrugged. "Another time, Kirill."</p> + +<p>"Yes. As it is, we should not be seen together. Nor, for that matter +should you even return here. The imperialists are not stupid. Very +possibly, American and Common Europe espionage agents know of this +headquarters. Not to speak of the Arab Union. I shall try to give you +the whole story and your assignment in this next half hour. Then you +should depart immediately."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The man they called Anton sipped his drink and relaxed in his chair. +He looked at his superior without comment.</p> + +<p>The Russian took another jolt of his water-clear drink. "Have you ever +heard of El Hassan?"</p> + +<p>The Negro thought a moment before saying, "Vaguely. Evidently an Arab, +or possibly a Tuareg. North African nationalist. No, that wouldn't be +the word, since he is international. At any rate, he seems to be +drawing a following in the Sahara and as far south as the Sudan. Backs +modernization and wants unity of all North Africa. Is he connected +with the Party?"</p> + +<p>The espionage chief was shaking his head. "That is the answer I +expected you to give, and is approximately what anyone else would have +said. Actually, there is no such person as El Hassan."</p> + +<p>Anton frowned. "I'm afraid you're wrong there, Kirill. I've heard +about him in half a dozen places. Very mysterious figure. Nobody seems +to have seen him, but word of his program is passed around from +Ethiopia to Mauretania."</p> + +<p>The Russian was shaking his head negatively. "That I know. It's a +rather strange story and one rather hard to believe if it wasn't for +the fact that one of my operatives was in on the, ah, <i>manufacturing</i> +of this Saharan leader."</p> + +<p>"Manufacturing?"</p> + +<p>"I'll give you the details later. Were you acquainted with Abraham +Baker, the American comrade?"</p> + +<p>"Were? I <i>am</i> acquainted with him. Abe is a friend as well as a +comrade."</p> + +<p>The Russian shook his head again. "Baker is dead, Anton. As you +possibly know, his assignment for the past few years has been with a +Reunited Nations African Development Project team, working in the +Sahara region. We planted him there expecting the time to arrive when +his services would be of considerable value. He worked with a five-man +team headed by a Dr. Homer Crawford and largely the team's task was to +eliminate bottlenecks that developed as the various modernization +projects spread over the desert."</p> + +<p>"But what's this got to do with <i>manufacturing</i> El Hassan?"</p> + +<p>"I'm coming to that. Crawford's team, including Comrade Baker, usually +disguised themselves as Enaden smiths. As such, their opinions carried +little weight so in order to spread Reunited Nations propaganda, they +hit upon the idea of imputing everything they said to this great hero +of the desert, El Hassan."</p> + +<p>"I see," the man called Anton said.</p> + +<p>"Others, without knowing the origin of our El Hassan, took up the idea +and spread it. These nomads are at an ethnic level where they want a +hero to follow, a leader. So in order to give prestige to their +teachings the various organizations trying to advance North Africa +followed in Crawford's footsteps and attributed their teachings to +this mysterious El Hassan."</p> + +<p>"And it snowballed."</p> + +<p>"Correct! But the point is that after a time Crawford came around to +the belief that there should be a real El Hassan. That the primary +task at this point is to unite the area, to break down the old tribal +society and introduce the populace to the new world."</p> + +<p>"He's probably right," the man called Anton growled. He finished his +drink, got up from his chair and on his own went over and mixed +another. "More vodka?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Please." The Russian held up his glass and went on talking. "Yes, +undoubtedly that is what is needed at this point. As it is, things are +trending toward a collapse. The imperialists, especially the +Americans, of course, wish to dominate the area for their capitalistic +purposes. The Arab Union wishes to take over <i>in toto</i> and make it +part of their Islamic world. We, of course, cannot afford to let +either succeed."</p> + +<p>The Negro resumed his chair, sipped at his drink and listened, nodding +from time to time.</p> + +<p>Kirill Menzhinsky said, "As you know, Marx and Engels when founding +scientific socialism had no expectation that their followers would +first come to power in such backward countries as the Russia of 1917 +or the China of 1949. In fact, the establishment of true socialism +presupposes a highly developed industrial economy. It is simply +impossible without such an economy. When Lenin came to power in 1917, +as a result of the chaotic conditions that prevailed upon the military +collapse of Imperial Russia, he had no expectation of going it alone, +as the British would say. He expected immediate revolutions in such +countries as Germany and France and supposed that these more advanced +countries would then come to the assistance of the Soviet Union and +all would advance together to true socialism."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"It didn't work out that way," the man called Anton said dryly.</p> + +<p>"No, it didn't. And Lenin didn't live to see the steps that Stalin +would take in order to build the necessary industrial base in Russia." +Kirill Menzhinsky looked about the room, almost as though checking to +see if anyone else was listening. "Some of our more unorthodox +theoreticians are inclined to think that had Lenin survived the +assassin's bullet, that Comrade Stalin would have found it necessary +to, ah, liquidate him."</p> + +<p>The Russian cleared his throat. "Be that as it may, basic changes were +made in Marxist teachings to fit into Stalin's and later Khrushchev's +new concepts of the worker's State. And the Soviet Union muddled +through, as the British have it. Today, the Soviet Complex is as +powerful as the imperialist powers."</p> + +<p>The espionage leader knocked back his vodka with a practiced stiff +wristed motion. "Which brings us to the present and to North Africa." +He leaned forward in emphasis. "Comrade, if the past half century and +more has taught us anything, it is that you cannot establish socialism +in a really backward country. In short, communism is impossible in +North Africa at this point in her social evolution. Impossible. You +cannot go directly from tribal society to communism. At this historic +point, there is no place for the party's program in North Africa."</p> + +<p>The man called Anton scowled.</p> + +<p>The Russian waggled his hand negatively. "Yes, yes. I know. +Ultimately, the whole world must become Soviet. Only that way will we +achieve our eventual goal. But that is the long view. Realistically, +we must face it, as the Yankees say. This area is not at present soil +for our seed."</p> + +<p>"Things move fast these days," the Negro growled. "Industrialization, +education, can be a geometric progression."</p> + +<p>His superior nodded emphatically. "Of course, and as little as ten or +fifteen years from now, given progress at the present rate, perhaps +there will be opportunity for our movement. But now? No."</p> + +<p>The other said, "What has all this to do with El Hassan, or Crawford, +or whatever the man's name is?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," the Russian said. "Homer Crawford has evidently decided to +become El Hassan."</p> + +<p>"Ahhh."</p> + +<p>"Yes. At this point, in short, he is traveling in our direction. He is +doing what we realize must be done."</p> + +<p>"Then we will support him?"</p> + +<p>"Now we come to the point, Anton. Homer Crawford is not sympathetic to +the Party. To the contrary. Our suspicion, although we have no proof, +is that he killed Comrade Abe Baker, when Baker approached him on his +stand in regard to the Party's long view."</p> + +<p>"I see," the man called Anton said.</p> + +<p>The Russian nodded. "We must keep in some sort of touch with him—some +sort of control. If this El Hassan realizes his scheme and unites all +North Africa, sooner or later we will have to deal with him. If he is +antagonistic, we will have to find means to liquidate him."</p> + +<p>"And my assignment...?"</p> + +<p>"He will be gathering followers at this point. Many followers, most of +whom will be unknown to him. You will become one of them. Raise +yourself to as high a rank as you find possible in his group. Become a +close friend, if that can be done...."</p> + +<p>"He killed Abe Baker, eh?"</p> + +<p>The Russian frowned. "This is an assignment, Comrade Anton. There is +no room for personal feelings. You are a good field man. Among the +best. You are being given this task because the Party feels you are +the man for it. Possibly it is an assignment that will take years in +the fulfilling."</p> + +<p>The Negro said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Are there any questions?"</p> + +<p>"Do we have any other operatives working on this?"</p> + +<p>The frown became a scowl. "An Isobel Cunningham worked with Comrade +Baker, but it has been suspected that she has been drifting away from +the party these past few years. Her present status is unknown, but she +is believed to be with Homer Crawford and his followers. Possibly she +has defected. If so, you will take whatever measures seem necessary. +You will be working almost completely on your own, Comrade. You must +think on your feet, as the Yankees say."</p> + +<p>The man called Anton thought a moment. He said, "You'd better give me +as thorough a run down as possible on this Homer Crawford and his +immediate followers."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Menzhinsky settled back in his chair and took up a sheaf of papers +from the desk. "We have fairly complete dossiers. I'll give you the +highlights, then you can take these with you to your hotel to study at +leisure."</p> + +<p>He took up the first sheet. "Homer Crawford. Born in Detroit of +working-class parents. In his late teens interrupted his education to +come to Africa where he joined elements of the F.L.N. in Morocco and +took part in several forays into Algeria. Evidently was wounded and +invalided back to the States where he resumed his education. When he +came of military age, he joined the Marine Corps and spent the usual, +ah, hitch I believe they call it. Following that, he resumed his +education, finally taking a doctor's degree in sociology. He then +taught for a time until the Reunited Nations began its African +program. He accepted a position, and soon distinguished himself."</p> + +<p>The Russian took up another paper. "According to Comrade Baker's +reports, Crawford is an outstanding personality, dominating others, +even in spite of himself. He would make a top party man. Idealistic, +strong, clever, ruthless when ruthlessness is called for."</p> + +<p>Menzhinsky paused for a moment, finding words hard to come by from an +ultra-materialist. His tone went wry. "Comrade Baker also reported a +somewhat mystical quality in our friend Crawford. An ability in times +of emotional crisis to break down men's mental barriers against him. A +<i>force</i> that ..."</p> + +<p>The other raised his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>His superior chuckled, ruefully. "Comrade Baker was evidently much +swayed by the man's personality. However, Anton, I might point out +that similar reports have come down to us of such a dominating +personality in Lenin, and, to a lesser degree, in Stalin." He twisted +his mouth. "History leads us to believe that such personalities as +Jesus and Mohammed seemed to have some power beyond that of we more +mundane types."</p> + +<p>"And the others?" Anton said.</p> + +<p>The Russian took up still another paper. "Elmer Allen. Born of small +farmer background on the outskirts of Kingston, on the island of +Jamaica. Managed to work his way through the University of Kingston +where he took a master's degree in sociology. At one time he was +thought to be Party material and was active in several organizations +that held social connotations, pacifist groups and so forth. However, +he was never induced to join the Party. Upon graduation, he +immediately took employment with the Reunited Nations and was assigned +to Homer Crawford's team. He is evidently in accord with Crawford's +aims as El Hassan."</p> + +<p>The espionage chief took up another sheet. "Bey-ag-Akhamouk ..."</p> + +<p>The other scowled. "That can't be an American name."</p> + +<p>"No. He is the only real African associated with Crawford at this +point. He was evidently born a Taureg and taken to the States at an +early age, three or four, by a missionary. At any rate, he was +educated at the University of Minnesota where he studied political +science. We have no record of where he stands politically, but Comrade +Baker rated him as an outstanding intuitive soldier. A veritable +genius in combat. He would seem to have had military experience +somewhere, but we have no record of it. Our Bey-ag-Akhamouk seems +somewhat of a mystery man."</p> + +<p>The Russian sorted out another sheet. "Kenneth Ballalou, born in +Louisiana, educated in Chicago. Another young man but evidently as +capable as the others. He seems to be quite a linguist. So far as we +know, he holds no political stand whatsoever."</p> + +<p>Menzhinsky pursed his lips before saying, "The Isobel Cunningham I +mentioned worked with the Africa for Africans Association with two +colleagues, a Jacob Armstrong and Clifford Jackson. It is possible +that these two, as well as Isobel Cunningham, have joined El Hassan. +If so, we will have to check further upon them, although I understand +Armstrong is rather elderly and hardly effective under the +circumstances."</p> + +<p>The man called Anton said evenly, "And this former comrade, Isobel +Cunningham, has evidently joined with Crawford even though he ... was +the cause of Abe Baker's death?"</p> + +<p>"Evidently."</p> + +<p>The Negro's eyes narrowed.</p> + +<p>The other said, "And evidently she is a most intelligent and +attractive young lady. We had rather high hopes for her formerly."</p> + +<p>The Negro party member came to his feet and gathered up the sheaf of +papers from the desk. "All right," he said. "Is there anything else?"</p> + +<p>The espionage chief shook his head. "You do not need a step by step +blueprint, Anton, that is why you have been chosen for this +assignment. You are strongly based in Party doctrine. You know what is +needed, we can trust you to carry on the Party's aims." After a pause, +the Russian added, "Without being diverted by personal feelings."</p> + +<p>Anton looked him in the face. "Of course," he said.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="p1">F</span>redric Ostrander was on the carpet.</p> + +<p>His chief said, "You seem to have conducted yourself rather +precipitately, Fred."</p> + +<p>Ostrander shrugged in irritation. "I didn't have time to consult +anyone. By pure luck, I spotted the Cunningham girl and since I knew +she had affiliated herself with Crawford, I followed her."</p> + +<p>The chief said dryly, "And tried to arrest the seven of them, all by +yourself."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't see anything else to do."</p> + +<p>The C.I.A. official said, "In the first place, we have no legal +jurisdiction here and you could have caused an international stink. +The Russkies would just love to bring something like this onto the +Reunited Nations floor. In the second place, you failed. How in the +world did you expect to take on that number of men, especially +Crawford and his team?"</p> + +<p>Ostrander flushed his irritation. "Next time ..." he began.</p> + +<p>His chief waved a hand negatively. "Let's hope there isn't going to be +next time, of this type." He took up a paper from his desk. "Here's +your new job, Fred. You're to locate this El Hassan and keep in +continual contact with him. If he meets with any sort of success at +all, and frankly our agency doubts that he will, you will attempt to +bring home to Crawford and his followers the fact that they are +Americans, and orientate them in the direction of the West. Above all, +you are to keep in touch with us and keep us informed on all +developments. Especially notify us if there is any sign that our El +Hassan is in communication with the Russkies or any other foreign +element."</p> + +<p>"Right," Ostrander said.</p> + +<p>His chief looked at him. "We're giving you this job, Fred, because +you're more up on it than anyone else. You're in at the beginning, so +to speak. Now, do you want me to assign you a couple of assistants?"</p> + +<p>"White men?" Ostrander said.</p> + +<p>His higher-up scowled. "You know you're the only Negro in our agency, +Fred."</p> + +<p>Fredric Ostrander, his voice still even, said, "That's too bad, +because anyone you assigned me who wasn't a Negro would be a hindrance +rather than an assistant."</p> + +<p>The other drummed his fingers on the table in irritation. He said +suddenly, "Fred, do you think I ought to do a report to Greater +Washington suggesting they take more Negro operatives into the +agency?"</p> + +<p>Ostrander said dryly, "You'd better if this department is going to get +much work done in Africa." He stood up. "I suppose that the sooner I +get onto the job, the better. Do you have any idea at all where +Crawford and his gang headed after they left me unconscious in that +filthy hut?"</p> + +<p>"No, we haven't the slightest idea of where they might be, other than +that they left your car abandoned at the Yoff airport."</p> + +<p>"Oh, great," Fredric Ostrander complained. "They've gone into hiding +in an area somewhat twice the size of the original fifty United +States."</p> + +<p>"Good luck," his chief said.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="p1">R</span>ex Donaldson, formerly of Nassau in the British Bahamas, formerly of +the College of Anthropology, Oxford, now field man for the African +Department of the British Commonwealth working at expediting native +development, was taking time out for needed and unwonted relaxation. +In fact, he stretched out on his back in the most comfortable bed, in +the most comfortable hotel, in the Niger town of Mopti. His hands +were behind his head, and his scowling eyes were on the ceiling.</p> + +<p>He was a small, bent man, inordinately black even for the Sudan and +the loincloth costume he wore was ludicrous in the Westernized comfort +of the hotel room. He was attired for the bush and knew that it was +sheer laziness now that kept him from taking off for the Dogon country +of the Canton de Sangha where he was currently working to bring down +tribal prejudices against the coming of the schools. He had his work +cut out for him in the Dogon, the old men, the tribal elders they +called Hogons, instinctively knew that the coming of education meant +subversion of their institutions and the eventual loss of Hogon power.</p> + +<p>His portable communicator, sitting on the bedside table, buzzed and +the little man grumbled a profanity and swung his crooked legs around +to the floor. His eyebrows went up when he realized it was a priority +call which probably meant from London.</p> + +<p>He flicked the reception switch and a girl's face faded onto the +screen. She said, "A moment, Mr. Donaldson, Sir Winton wants you."</p> + +<p>"Right," Rex Donaldson said. Sir Winton, yet. Head of the African +Department. Other than photographs, Donaldson had never seen his +ultimate superior, not to mention speaking to him personally.</p> + +<p>The girl's face faded out and that of Sir Winton Brett-Homes faded in. +The heavy-set, heavy-faced Englishman looked down, obviously checking +something on his desk. He looked up again, said, "Rex Donaldson?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"I won't waste time on preliminaries, Donaldson. We've been +discussing, here, some of the disconcerting rumors coming out of your +section. Are you acquainted with this figure, El Hassan?"</p> + +<p>The black man's eyes widened. He said, cautiously, "I have heard a +good many stories and rumors."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course. They have been filtering into this office for more +than a year. But thus far little that could be considered concrete has +developed."</p> + +<p>Rex Donaldson held his peace, waited for the other to go on.</p> + +<p>Sir Winton said impatiently, "Actually, we are still dealing with +rumors, but they are beginning to shape up. Evidently, this El Hassan +has finally begun to move."</p> + +<p>"Ahhh," the wiry little field man breathed.</p> + +<p>The florid faced Englishman said, "As we understand it, he wishes to +cut across tribal, national and geographic divisions in all North +Africa, wishes to unite the whole area from Sudan to the +Mediterranean."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Donaldson nodded. "That seems to be his program."</p> + +<p>Sir Winton said, "It has been decided that the interests of Her +Majesty's government and that of the Commonwealth hardly coincide with +such an attempt at this time. It would lead to chaos."</p> + +<p>"Ahhh," Donaldson said.</p> + +<p>Sir Winton wound it up, all but beaming. "Your instructions, then, +are to seek out this El Hassan and combat his efforts with whatever +means you find necessary. We consider you one of our most competent +operatives, Donaldson."</p> + +<p>Rex Donaldson said slowly, "You mean that he is to be stopped at all +cost?"</p> + +<p>The other cleared his throat. "You are given carte blanche, Donaldson. +You and our other operatives in the Sahara and Sudan. Stop El Hassan."</p> + +<p>Rex Donaldson said flatly, "You have just received my resignation, Sir +Winton."</p> + +<p>"What ... what!"</p> + +<p>"You heard me," Donaldson said.</p> + +<p>"But ... but what are you going to do?" The heavy face of the African +Department head was going a reddish-purple, which rather fascinated +Donaldson but he had no time to further contemplate the phenomenon.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to round up a few of my colleagues, of similar mind to my +own, and then I'm going to join El Hassan," the little man snapped. +"Good-bye, Sir Winton."</p> + +<p>He clicked the set off and then looked down at it. His dour face broke +into a rare grin. "Now there's an ambition I've had for donkey's +years," he said aloud. "To hang up on a really big mucky-muck."</p> + + +<h2>IV</h2> + +<p><span class="p1">F</span>ollowing the attack of the unidentified rocketcraft, El Hassan's +party was twice again nearly flushed by reconnoitering planes of +unknown origin. They weren't making the time they wanted.</p> + +<p>Beneath a projecting rock face over a gravel bottomed wadi, the two +hover-lorries were hidden, whilst a slow-moving helio-jet made +sweeping, high-altitude circlings above them.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_005.jpg" width="300" height="839" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The six stared glumly upward.</p> + +<p>Cliff Jackson who was on the radio called out, "I just picked him up. +He's called in to Fort Lamy reporting no luck. His fuel's running +short and he'll be knocking off soon."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford rapped, "What language?"</p> + +<p>"French," Cliff said, "but it's not his. I mean he's not French, just +using the language."</p> + +<p>Bey's face was as glum as any and there was a tic at the side of his +mouth. He said now, "We've got to come up with something. Sooner or +later one of them will spot us and this next time we won't have any +fantastic breaks like Homer being able to knock him off with a +Tommy-Noiseless. He'll drop a couple of neopalms and burn up a square +mile of desert including El Hassan and his whole crew."</p> + +<p>Homer looked at him. "Any ideas, Bey?"</p> + +<p>"No," the other growled.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford said, "Any of the rest of you?"</p> + +<p>Isobel was frowning, bringing something back. "Why don't we travel at +night?"</p> + +<p>"And rest during the day?" Homer said.</p> + +<p>Kenny said, "Parking where? We just made it to this wadi. If we're +caught out in the dunes somewhere when one of those planes shows up, +we've had it. You couldn't hide a jackrabbit out there."</p> + +<p>But Bey and Homer Crawford were still looking at Isobel.</p> + +<p>She said, "I remember a story the Tuaregs used to tell about a raid +some of them made back during the French occupation. They stole four +hundred camels near Timbuktu one night and headed north. The French +weren't worried. The next morning, they simply sent out a couple of +aircraft to spot the Tuareg raiders and the camels. Like Kenny said, +you couldn't hide a jackrabbit in dune country. But there was nothing +to be seen. The French couldn't believe it, but they still weren't +really worried. After all a camel herd can travel only thirty or so +miles a day. So the next day the planes went out again, circling, +circling, but they still didn't spot the thieves and their loot, nor +the next day. Well, to shorten it, the Tuareg got their four hundred +camels all the way up to Spanish Rio de Oro where they sold them."</p> + +<p>She had their staring attention. "How?" Elmer blurted.</p> + +<p>"It was simple. They traveled all night and then, at dawn, buried the +camels and themselves in the sand and stayed there all day."</p> + +<p>Homer said, "I'm sold. Boys, I hope you're in physical trim because +there's going to be quite a bit of digging for the next few days."</p> + +<p>Cliff groaned. "Some Minister of the Treasury," he complained. "They +give him a shovel instead of a bankbook."</p> + +<p>Everyone laughed.</p> + +<p>Bey said, "Well, I suppose we stay here until nightfall."</p> + +<p>"Right," Homer said. "Whose turn is it to pull cook duty?"</p> + +<p>Isobel said menacingly, "I don't know whose turn it is, but I know I'm +going to do the cooking. After that slumgullion Kenny whipped up +yesterday, I'm a perpetual volunteer for the job of chef—strictly in +self-defense."</p> + +<p>"That was a cruel cut," Kenny protested, "however, I hereby relinquish +all my rights to cooking for this expedition."</p> + +<p>"And me!"</p> + +<p>"And me!"</p> + +<p>"O.K.," Homer said, "so Isobel is Minister of the Royal Kitchen." He +looked at Elmer Allen. "Which reminds me. You're our junior +theoretician. Are we a monarchy?"</p> + +<p>Elmer Allen scowled sourly and sat down, his back to the wadi wall. "I +wouldn't think so."</p> + +<p>Isobel went off to make coffee in the portable galley in the rear of +the second hovercraft. The others brought forth tobacco and squatted +or sat near the dour Jamaican. Years in the desert had taught them the +nomad's ability to relax completely given opportunity.</p> + +<p>"So if it's not a monarchy, what'll we call El Hassan?" Kenny +demanded.</p> + +<p>Elmer said slowly, thoughtfully, "We'll call him simply <i>El Hassan</i>. +Monarchies are of the past, and El Hassan is the voice of the future, +something new. We won't admit he's just a latter-day tyrant, an +opportunist seizing power because it's there crying to be seized. +Actually, El Hassan is in the tradition of Genghis Khan, Tamerlane, +or, more recently, Napoleon. But he's a modern version, and we're not +going to hang the old labels on him."</p> + +<p>Isobel had brought the coffee. "I think you're right," she said.</p> + +<p>"Sold," Homer agreed. "So we aren't a monarchy. We're a tyranny." His +face had begun by expressing amusement, but that fell off. He added, +"As a young sociologist, I never expected to wind up a literal +tyrant."</p> + +<p>Elmer Allen said, "Wait a minute. See if I can remember this. Comes +from Byron." He closed his eyes and recited:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The tyrant of the Chersonese<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was freedom's best and bravest friend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tyrant was Miltiades,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh that the present hour would lend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another despot of the kind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such bonds as his were sure to bind."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Isobel, pouring coffee, laughed and said, "Why Elmer, who'd ever dream +you read verse, not to speak of memorizing it, you old sourpuss."</p> + +<p>Elmer Allen's complexion was too dark to register a flush.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford said, "Yeah, Miltiades. Seized power, whipped the +Athenians into shape to the point where they were able to take the +Persians at Marathon, which should have been impossible." He looked +around at the others, winding up with Elmer. "What happened to +Miltiades after Marathon and after the emergency was over?"</p> + +<p>Elmer looked down into his coffee. "I don't remember," he lied.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There was a clicking from the first hover-lorry, and Cliff Jackson put +down his coffee, groaned his resentment at fate, and made his way to +the vehicle and the radio there.</p> + +<p>Bey motioned with his head. "That's handy, our still being able to +tune in on the broadcasts the African Development Project makes to its +teams."</p> + +<p>Kenny said, "Not that what they've been saying is much in the way of +flattery."</p> + +<p>Bey said, "They seem to think we're somewhere in the vicinity of Bidon +Cinq."</p> + +<p>"That's what worries me," Homer growled. He raked his right hand back +through his short hair. "If they think we're in Southern Algeria, what +are these planes doing around here? We're hundreds of miles from Bidon +Cinq."</p> + +<p>Bey shot him an oblique glance. "That's easy. That plane that tried to +clobber us, and these others that have been trying to search us out, +aren't really Reunited Nations craft. They're someone else."</p> + +<p>They all looked at him. "Who?" Isobel said.</p> + +<p>"How should I know? It could be almost anybody with an iron in the +North African fire. The Soviet Complex? Very likely. The British +Commonwealth or the French Community? Why not? There're elements in +both that haven't really accepted giving up the old colonies and would +like to regain them in one way or the other. The Arab Union? Why +comment? Common Europe? Oh, Common Europe would love to have a free +hand exploiting North Africa."</p> + +<p>"You haven't mentioned the United States of the Americas," Elmer said +dryly. "I hope you haven't any prejudices in favor of the land of your +adoption, Mr. Minister of War."</p> + +<p>Bey shrugged. "I just hadn't got around to her. Admittedly with the +continued growth of the Soviet Complex and Common Europe, the States +have slipped from the supreme position they occupied immediately +following the Second War. The more power-happy elements are conscious +of the ultimate value of control of Africa and doubly conscious of the +danger of it falling into the hands of someone else. Oh, never fear, +those planes that have been pestering us might belong to anybody at +all."</p> + +<p>Cliff Jackson hurried back from his radio, his face anxious. "Listen," +he said. "That was a high priority flash, to all Reunited Nations +teams. The Arab Union has just taken Tamanrasset. They pushed two +columns out of Libya, evidently one from Ghat and one from further +north near Ghademès."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford was on his feet, alert. "Well ... why?"</p> + +<p>Cliff had what amounted to accusation on his face. "Evidently, the El +Hassan rumors are spreading like wildfire. There've been more riots in +Mopti, and the Reunited Nations buildings in Adrar have been stormed +by mobs demonstrating for him. The Arab Union is moving in on the +excuse of protecting the country against El Hassan."</p> + +<p>Kenny Ballalou groaned, "They'll have half their Arab Legion in here +before the week's out."</p> + +<p>Cliff finished with, "The Reunited Nations is throwing a wingding. +Everybody running around accusing and threatening, and, as per usual, +getting nowhere."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford's face was working in thought. He shook his head at +Kenny. "I think you're wrong. They won't send the whole Arab Legion +in. They'll be afraid to. They'll want to see first what everybody +else does. They know they can't stand up to a slugging match with any +of the really big powers. They'll stick it out for a while and watch +developments. We have, perhaps, two weeks in which to operate."</p> + +<p>"Operate?" Cliff demanded. "What do you mean, operate?"</p> + +<p>Homer's eyes snapped to him. "I mean to recapture Tamanrasset from the +Arab Union, seize the radio and television station there, and proclaim +El Hassan's regime."</p> + +<p>The big Californian's eyes bugged at him. "You mean the six of us? +There'll be ten thousand of them."</p> + +<p>"No," Homer said decisively. "Nothing like that number. Possibly a +thousand, if that many. Logistics simply doesn't allow a greater +number, not on such short notice. They've put a thousand or so of +their crack troops into the town. No more."</p> + +<p>Cliff wailed, "What's the difference between a thousand and twenty +thousand, so far as five men and a girl are concerned?"</p> + +<p>The rest were saying nothing, but following the debate.</p> + +<p>Crawford explained, not to just Cliff but to all of them. "Actually, +the Arab Union is doing part of our job for us. They've openly +declared that El Hassan is attempting to take over North Africa, that +he's raising the tribes. Well, good. We didn't have the facilities to +make the announcement ourselves. But now the whole world knows it."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"That's right," Elmer said, his face characteristically sullen. "Every +news agency in the world is playing up the El Hassan story. In a +matter of days, the most remote nomad encampment in the Sahara will +know of it, one way or the other."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford was pacing, socking his right fist into the palm of the +left. "They've given us a rallying <i>raison d'etre</i>. These people might +be largely Moslem, especially in the north, but they have no love for +the Arab Union. For too long the slave raiders came down from the +northeast. Given time, Islam might have moved in on the whole of North +Africa. But not this way, not in military columns."</p> + +<p>He swung to Bey. "You worked over in the Teda country, before joining +my team, and speak the Sudanic dialects. Head for there, Bey. +Proclaim El Hassan. Organize a column. We'll rendezvous at Tamanrasset +in exactly two weeks."</p> + +<p>Bey growled, "How am I supposed to get to Faya?"</p> + +<p>"You'll have to work that out yourself. Tonight we'll drop you near In +Guezzam, they have one of the big solar pump, afforestation +developments there. You should be able to, ah, requisition a truck, or +possibly even a 'copter or aircraft. You're on your own, Bey."</p> + +<p>"Right."</p> + +<p>Homer spun to Kenny Ballalou. "You're the only one of us who gets +along in the dialect of Hassania. Get over to Nemadi country and raise +a column. There are no better scouts in the world. Two weeks from +today at Tamanrasset."</p> + +<p>"Got it. Drop me off tonight with Bey, we'll work together until we +liberate some transport."</p> + +<p>Bey said, "It might be worth while scouting in In Guezzam for a day or +two. We might pick up a couple of El Hassan followers to help us along +the way."</p> + +<p>"Use your judgment. Elmer!"</p> + +<p>Elmer groaned sourly, "I knew my time'd come."</p> + +<p>"Up into Chaambra country for you. Take the second lorry. You've got a +distance to go. Try to recruit former members of the French Camel +Corps. Promise just about anything, but only remember that one day +we'll have to keep the promises. El Hassan can't get the label of +phony hung on him."</p> + +<p>"Chaambra country," Elmer said. "Oh great. Arabs. I can just see what +luck I'm going to have rousing up Arabs to fight other Arabs, and me +with a complexion black as ..."</p> + +<p>Homer snapped at him, "They won't be following you, they'll be +following El Hassan ... or at least the El Hassan dream. Play up the +fact that the Arab Union is largely not of Africa but of the Middle +East. That they're invading the country to swipe the goats and violate +the women. Dig up all the old North African prejudices against the +Syrians and Egyptians, and the Saudi-Arabian slave traders. You'll +make out."</p> + +<p>Cliff said, nervously, "How about me, Homer?"</p> + +<p>Homer looked at him. Cliff Jackson, in spite of his fabulous build, +hadn't a fighting man's background.</p> + +<p>Homer grinned and said, "You'll work with me. We're going into Tuareg +country. Whenever occasion calls for it, whip off that shirt and go +strolling around with that overgrown chest of yours stuck out. The +Tuareg consider themselves the best physical specimens in the Sahara, +which they are. They admire masculine physique. You'll wow them."</p> + +<p>Cliff grumbled, "Sounds like vaudeville."</p> + +<p>Isobel said softly, "And me, El Hassan? What do I do?"</p> + +<p>Homer turned to her. "You're also part of headquarters staff. The +Tuareg women aren't dominated by their men. They still have a strong +element of descent in the matrilinear line and women aren't +second-class citizens. You'll work on pressuring them. Do you speak +Tamaheq?"</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford looked up into the sky, swept it. The day was rapidly +coming to an end and nowhere does day become night so quickly as in +the ergs of the Sahara.</p> + +<p>"Let's get underway," Crawford said. "Time's a wastin'."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="p1">T</span>he range of the Ahaggar Tuareg was once known, under French +administration, as the Annexe du Hoggar, and was the most difficult +area ever subdued by French arms—if it was ever subdued. At the +battle of Tit on May 7, 1902 the Camel Corps, under Cottenest, broke +the combined military power of the Tuareg confederations, but this +meant no more than that the tribes and clans carried on nomadic +warfare in smaller units.</p> + +<p>The Ahaggar covers roughly an area the size of Pennsylvania, New York, +Virginia and Maryland combined, and supports a population of possibly +twelve thousand, which includes about forty-five hundred Tuareg, four +thousand Negro serf-slaves, and some thirty-five hundred scorned +sedentary Haratin workers. The balance of the population consists of a +handful of Enaden smiths and a small number of Arab shopkeepers in the +largest of the sedentary centers. Europeans and other whites are all +but unknown.</p> + +<p>It is the end of the world.</p> + +<p>Contrary to Hollywood-inspired belief, the Sahara does not consist +principally of sand dunes, although these, too, are present, and all +but impassable even to camels. Traffic, through the millennia, has +held to the endless stretches of gravelly plains and the rock ribbed +plateaus which cover most of the desert. The great sandy wastes or +ergs cover roughly a fifth of the entire Sahara, and possibly two +thirds of this area consists of the rolling sandy plains dotted +occasionally with dunes. The remaining third, or about one fifteenth +of the total Sahara, is characterized by the dune formations of +popular imagination.</p> + +<p>It was through this latter area that Homer Crawford, now with but one +hover-lorry, and accompanied by Isobel Cunningham and Clifford +Jackson, was heading.</p> + +<p>For although the spectacular major dune formations of the Great Erg +have defied wheeled vehicles since the era of the Carthaginian +chariots, and even the desert born camel limits his daily travel in +them to but a few miles, the modern hovercraft, atop its air cushion +jets, finds them of only passing difficulty to traverse. And the +hovercraft leaves no trail.</p> + +<p>Cliff Jackson scowled out at the identical scenery. Identical for more +than two hundred miles. For twice that distance, they had seen no +other life. No animal, no bird, not a sprig of cactus. This was the +Great Erg.</p> + +<p>He muttered, "This country is so dry even the morning dew is +dehydrated."</p> + +<p>Isobel laughed—she, too, had never experienced this country before. +"Why, Cliff, you made a funny!"</p> + +<p>They were sitting three across in the front seat, with Homer Crawford +at the wheel, and now all three were dressed in the costume of the Kel +Rela tribe of the Ahaggar Tuareg confederation. In the back of the +lorry were the jerry-cans of water and the supplies that meant the +difference between life and mummification from sun and heat.</p> + +<p>Cliff turned suddenly to the driver. "Why here?" he said bitterly. +"Why pick this for a base of operations? Why not Mopti? Ten thousand +Sudanese demonstrated for El Hassan there less than two weeks ago. +You'd have them in the palm of your hand."</p> + +<p>Homer didn't look up from his work at wheel, lift and acceleration +levers. To achieve maximum speed over the dunes, you worked constantly +at directing motion not only horizontally but vertically.</p> + +<p>He said, "And the twenty and one enemies of the El Hassan movement +would have had us in their palms. Our followers in Mopti can take care +of themselves. If this movement is ever going to be worth anything, +the local characters are going to have to get into the act. The +current big thing is not to allow El Hassan and his immediate troupe +to be eliminated before full activities can get under way. For the +present, we're hiding out until we can gather forces enough to free +Tamanrasset."</p> + +<p>"Hiding out is right," Cliff snorted. "I have a sneaking suspicion +that not only will they never find us, but we'll never find them +again."</p> + +<p>Homer laughed. "As a matter of fact, we're not so far right now from +Silet where there's a certain amount of water—if you dig for it—and +a certain amount of the yellowish grass and woody shrubs that the +bedouin depend on. With luck, we'll find the Amenokal of the Tuareg +there."</p> + +<p>"Amenokal?"</p> + +<p>"Paramount chief of the Ahaggar Tuaregs."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The dunes began to fall away and with the butt of his left hand +Crawford struck the acceleration lever. He could make more time now +when less of his attention was drawn to the ups and downs of erg +travel.</p> + +<p>Patches of thorny bush began to appear, and after a time a small herd +of gazelle were flushed and high tailed their way over the horizon.</p> + +<p>Isobel said, "Who is this Amenokal you mentioned?"</p> + +<p>"These are the real Tuareg, the comparatively untouched. They've got +three tribes, the Kel Rela, the Tégéhé Mellet and the Taitoq, each +headed by a warrior clan which gives its name to the tribe as a whole. +The chief of the Kel Rela clan is also chief of the Kel Rela tribe and +automatically paramount chief, or Amenokal, of the whole +confederation. His name is Melchizedek."</p> + +<p>"Do you think you can win him over?" Isobel said.</p> + +<p>"He's a smart old boy. I had some dealings with him over a year ago. +Gave him a TV set in the way of a present, hoping he'd tune in on some +of our Reunited Nations propaganda. He's probably the most +conservative of the Tuareg leaders."</p> + +<p>Her eyebrows went up. "And you expect to bring him around to the most +liberal scheme to hit North Africa since Hannibal?"</p> + +<p>He looked at her from the side of his eyes and grinned. "Remember +Roosevelt, the American president?"</p> + +<p>"Hardly."</p> + +<p>"Well, you've read about him. He came into office at a time when the +country was going to economic pot by the minute. Some of the measures +he and his so-called brain trust took were immediately hailed by his +enemies as socialistic. In answer, Roosevelt told them that in times +of social stress the true conservative is a liberal, since to +preserve, you have to reform. If Roosevelt hadn't done the things he +did, back in the 1930s, you probably would have seen some <i>real</i> +changes in the American socio-economic system. Roosevelt didn't +undermine the social system of the time, he preserved it."</p> + +<p>"Then, according to you, Roosevelt was a conservative," she said +mockingly.</p> + +<p>Crawford laughed. "I'll go even further," he said. "When social +changes are pending and for whatever reason are not brought about, +then reaction is the inevitable alternative. At such a time then—when +sweeping socio-economic change is called for—any reform measures +proposed are concealed measures of reaction, since they tend to +maintain the <i>status quo</i>."</p> + +<p>"Holy Mackerel," Cliff protested. "Accept that and Roosevelt was not +only not a liberal, but a reactionary. Stop tearing down my childhood +heroes."</p> + +<p>Isobel said, "Let's get back to this Amenokal guy. You think he's +smart enough to see his only chance is in going along with ..."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford pointed ahead and a little to the right. "We'll soon +find out. This is a favorite encampment of his. With luck, he'll be +there. If we can win him over, we've come a long way."</p> + +<p>"And if we can't?" Isobel said, her eyebrows raised again.</p> + +<p>"Then it's unfortunate that there are only three of us," Homer said +simply, without looking at her.</p> + +<p><span class="p1">T</span>here were possibly no more than a hundred Tuareg in all in the nomad +encampment of goat leather tents when the solar powered hovercraft +drew up.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_006.jpg" width="600" height="302" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>When the air cushion vehicle stopped before the largest tent, Crawford +said beneath his breath, "The Amenokal is here, all right. Cliff, +watch your teguelmoust. If any of these people see more than your +eyes, your standing has dropped to a contemptible zero."</p> + +<p>The husky Californian secured the lightweight cotton, combination veil +and turban well up over his face. Earlier, Crawford had shown him how +to wind the ten-foot long, indigo-blue cloth around the head and +features.</p> + +<p>Isobel, of course, was unveiled, Tuareg fashion, and wore baggy +trousers of black cotton held in place with a braided leather cord by +way of drawstring and a gandoura upper-garment consisting of a huge +rectangle of cloth some seven to eight feet square and folded over on +itself with the free corners sewed together so as to leave bottom and +most of both sides open. A V-shaped opening for her head and neck was +cut out of a fold at the top, and a large patch had been sewed inside +to make a pocket beneath her left breast. She wasn't exactly a +Parisian fashion plate.</p> + +<p>Even as they stepped down from the hovercraft, immediately after it +had drifted to rest on the ground, an elderly man came from the tent +entrance.</p> + +<p>He looked at them for a moment, then rested his eyes exclusively on +Homer Crawford.</p> + +<p>"<i>La Bas</i>, El Hassan," he said through the cloth that covered his +mouth.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford was taken aback, but covered the fact. "There is no +evil," he repeated the traditional greeting. "But why do you name me +El Hassan?"</p> + +<p>A dozen veiled desert men, all with the Tuareg sword, several with +modern rifles, had formed behind the Tuareg chief.</p> + +<p>Melchizedek made a movement of hand to mouth, in a universal gesture +of amusement. "Ah, El Hassan," he said, "you forget you left me the +magical instrument of the Roumi."</p> + +<p>Crawford was mystified, but he stood in silence. What the Tuareg +paramount chief said now made considerable difference. As he recalled +his former encounter with the Ahaggar leader, the other had been +neither friendly nor antagonistic to the Reunited Nations team +Crawford had headed in their role as itinerant desert smiths.</p> + +<p>The Amenokal said, "Enter then my tent, El Hassan, and meet my +chieftains. We would confer with you."</p> + +<p>The first obstacle was cleared. Subduing a sigh of relief, Homer +Crawford turned to Cliff. "This, O Amenokal of all the Ahaggar, is +Clif ben Jackson, my Vizier of Finance."</p> + +<p>The Amenokal bowed his head slightly, said, "<i>La Bas</i>."</p> + +<p>Cliff could go that far in the Tuareg tongue. He said, "<i>La Bas</i>."</p> + +<p>The Amenokal said, looking at Isobel, "I hear that in the lands of the +Roumi women are permitted in the higher councils."</p> + +<p>Homer said steadily, "This I have also been amazed to hear. However, +it is fitting that my followers remain here while El Hassan discusses +matters of the highest importance with the Amenokal and his +chieftains. This is the Sitt Izubahil, high in the councils of her +people due to the great knowledge she has gained by attending the new +schools which dispense rare wisdom, as all men know."</p> + +<p>The Amenokal courteously said, "<i>La Bas</i>," but Isobel held her peace +in decency amongst men of chieftain rank.</p> + +<p>When Homer and the Tuaregs had disappeared into the tent, she said to +Cliff, "Stick by the car, I'm going to circulate among the women. +Women are women everywhere. I'll pick up the gossip, possibly get +something Homer will miss in there."</p> + +<p>A group of Tuareg women and children, the latter stark naked, had +gathered to gape at the strangers. Isobel moved toward them, began +immediately breaking the ice.</p> + +<p>Under his breath, Cliff muttered, "What a gal. Give her a few hours +and she'll form a Lady's Aid branch, or a bridge club, and where else +is El Hassan going to pick up so much inside information?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The tent, which was of the highly considered mouflon skins, was +mounted on a wooden frame which consisted of two uprights with a +horizontal member laid across their tops. The tent covering was +stretched over this framework with its back and sides pegged down and +the front, which faced south, was left open. It was ten feet deep, +fifteen feet wide and five feet high in the middle.</p> + +<p>The men entered and filed to the right of the structure where +sheepskins and rugs provided seating. The women and children, who +abided ordinarily to the left side, had vanished for this gathering of +the great.</p> + +<p>They sat for a time and sipped at green tea, syrup sweet with mint and +sugar, the tiny cups held under the teguelmoust so as not to obscenely +reveal the mouth of the drinker.</p> + +<p>Finally, Homer Crawford said, "You spoke of the magical instrument of +the Roumi which I gave you as gift, O Amenokal, and named me El +Hassan."</p> + +<p>Several of the Tuareg chuckled beneath their veils but Crawford could +read neither warmth nor antagonism in their amusement.</p> + +<p>The elderly Melchizedek nodded. "At first we were bewildered, O El +Hassan, but then my sister's son, Guémama, fated perhaps one day to +become chief of the Kel Rela and Amenokal of all the Ahaggar, recalled +the tales told by the storytellers at the fire in the long evenings."</p> + +<p>Crawford looked at him politely.</p> + +<p>Melchizedek's laugh was gentle. "But each man has heard, in his time, +O El Hassan, of the ancient Calif Haroun El Raschid of Baghdad."</p> + +<p>Crawford's mind went into high gear, as the story began to come back +to him. From second into high gear, and he could have blessed these +bedouin for handing him a piece of publicity gobblydygook worthy of +Fifth Avenue's top agency.</p> + +<p>He held up a hand as though in amusement at being discovered. +"Wallahi, O Amenokal, you have discovered my secret. For many months I +have crossed the deserts disguised as a common Enaden smith to seek +out all the people and to learn their wishes and their needs."</p> + +<p>"Even as Haroun el Raschid in the far past," one of the subchiefs +muttered in satisfaction, "used to disguise himself as a lowborn +dragoman and wander the streets of Baghdad."</p> + +<p>"But how did you recognize me?" Homer said.</p> + +<p>The Amenokal said in reproof, "But verily, your name is on all lips. +The Roumi have branded you common criminal. You are to be seized on +sight and great reward will be given he who delivers you to the +authorities." He spoke without inflection, and Crawford could read +neither support nor animosity—nor greed for the reward offered by El +Hassan's enemies. He gathered the impression that the Tuareg chief was +playing his cards close to his chest.</p> + +<p>"And what else do they say?"</p> + +<p>The elderly Melchizedek went on slowly, "They say that El Hassan is in +truth a renegade citizen of a far away Roumi land and that he attempts +to build a great confederation in North Africa for his own gain."</p> + +<p>One of the others chuckled and said, "The Roumi on the magical +instrument are indeed great liars as all can see."</p> + +<p>Homer looked at him questioningly.</p> + +<p>The other said, laughing, "Who has ever heard of a black Roumi? And +you, O El Hassan, are as black as a Bela."</p> + +<p>The Amenokal finished off the mystery of Crawford's recognition. +"Know, El Hassan, that whilst you were here before, one of the slaves +that served you for pay shamelessly looked upon your face in the +privacy of your tent. It was this slave who recognized your face when +the Roumi presented it on the magic instrument, calling upon all men +to see you and to brand you enemy."</p> + +<p>So that was it. The Reunited Nations, and probably all the rest, had +used their radio and TV stations to broadcast a warning and offer a +reward for Homer and his followers. Old Sven was losing no time. This +wasn't so good. A Tuareg owes allegiance to no one beyond clan, tribe +and confederation. All others are outside the pale and any advantage, +monetary or otherwise, to be gained by exploiting a stranger is well +within desert mores.</p> + +<p>He might as well bring it to the point. Crawford said evenly, "And I +have entered your camp alone except for two followers. Your people are +many. So why, O Amenokal, have you not seized me for the reward the +Roumi offer?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There was a moment of silence and Homer Crawford sensed that the +sub-chieftains had leaned forward in anticipation, waiting for their +leader's words. Possibly they, too, could not understand.</p> + +<p>The Tuareg leader finished his tea.</p> + +<p>"Because, El Hassan, we yet have not heard the message which the Roumi +are so anxious that you not be allowed to bring the men of the desert. +The Roumi are great liars, and great thieves, as each man knows. In +the memory of those still living, they have stolen of the bedouin and +robbed him of land and wealth. So now we would hear of what you say, +before we decide."</p> + +<p>"Spoken like a true Amenokal, a veritable Suliman ben Davud," Homer +said with a heartiness he could only partly feel. At least they were +open to persuasion.</p> + +<p>For a long moment he stared down at the rug upon which they sat, as +though deep in contemplation.</p> + +<p>"These words I speak will be truly difficult to hear and accept, O men +of the veil," he said at last. "For I speak of great change, and no +man loves change in the way of his life."</p> + +<p>"Speak, El Hassan," Melchizedek said flatly. "Great change is +everywhere upon us, as each man knows, and none can tell how to +maintain the ways of our fathers."</p> + +<p>"We can fight," one of the younger men growled.</p> + +<p>The Amenokal turned to him and grunted scorn. "And would you fight +against the weapons of the djinn and afrit, O Guémama? Know that in my +youth I was distant witness to the explosion of a great weapon which +the accursed Franzawi discharged south of Reggan. Know, that this +single explosion, my sister's son, could with ease have destroyed the +total of all the tribesmen of the Ahaggar, had they been gathered."</p> + +<p>"And the Roumi have many such weapons," Crawford added gently.</p> + +<p>The eyes of the tribal headmen came back to him.</p> + +<p>"As each man knows," Crawford continued, "change is upon the world. No +matter how strongly one wills to continue the traditions of his +fathers, change is upon us all. And he who would press against the +sand storm, rather than drifting with it, lasts not long."</p> + +<p>One of the subchiefs growled, "We Tuareg love not change, El Hassan."</p> + +<p>Crawford turned to him. "That is why I and my viziers have spent long +hours in <i>ekhwan</i>, in great council, devoted to the problems of the +Tuareg and how they can best fit into the new Africa that everywhere +awakes."</p> + +<p>They stirred in interest now. The Tuareg, once the Scourge of the +Sahara, the Sons of Shaitan and the Forgotten of Allah, to the Arab, +Teda, Moroccan and other fellow inhabitants of North Africa, were of +recent decades developing a tribal complex. Robbed of their +nomadic-bandit way of life by first the French Camel Corps and later +by the efforts of the Reunited Nations, they were rapidly descending +into a condition of poverty and defensive bewilderment. Not only were +large numbers of former bedouin drifting to the area's sedentary +centers, an act beyond contempt within the memory of the elders, but +the best elements of the clans were often deserting Tuareg country +completely and defecting to the new industrial centers, the dam +projects, the afforestation projects, the new oases irrigated with the +solar-powered pumps.</p> + +<p>"Speak, El Hassan," the Amenokal ordered. And unconsciously, he, too, +leaned forward, as did his subchiefs. The Ahaggar Tuareg were reaching +for straws, unconsciously seeking shoulders upon which to lay their +unsolvable problems.</p> + +<p>"Let me, O chiefs of the Tuareg, tell of a once strong tribe of +warriors and nomads who lived in the far country in which I was born," +Crawford said. The desert man loves a story, a parable, a tale of the +strong men of yesteryear.</p> + +<p>Melchizedek clapped his hands in summons and when a slave appeared, +called for <i>narghileh</i> water pipes. When all had been supplied, they +relaxed, bits in mouths and looked again at Homer Crawford.</p> + +<p>"They were called," he intoned, "the Cheyenne. The Northern Cheyenne, +for they had a sister tribe to the South. And on all the plains of +this great land, a land, verily, as large as all that over which the +Tuareg confederations now roam, they were the greatest huntsmen, the +greatest warriors. All feared them. They were the lords of all."</p> + +<p>"Ai," breathed one of the older men. "As were the Tuareg before the +coming of the cursed Franzawi and the other Nazrani."</p> + +<p>"But in time," Crawford pursued, "came the new ways to the plains, and +these men who lived largely by the chase began to see the lands fenced +in for farmers, began to see large cities erected on what were once +tribal areas, and to see the iron railroads of the new ways begin to +spread out over the whole of the territory which once was roamed only +by the Cheyennes and such nomadic tribes."</p> + +<p>"Ai," a muffled mouth ejected.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford looked at the younger Targui, Guémama, the Amenokal's +nephew. "And so," he said, "they fought."</p> + +<p>"Wallahi!" Guémama breathed.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford looked about the circle. "Never has tribe fought as did +the Cheyenne. Never has the world seen such warriors, with the +exception, of course, of the Ahaggar Tuareg. Never were such raids, +never such bravery, never such heroic deeds as were performed by the +warriors of the Cheyennes and their women, and their old people and +their children. Over and over they defeated the cavalry and the +infantry of the newcomers who would change the old ways and bring the +new to the lands of the Cheyennes."</p> + +<p>The bedouin were staring in fascination, their water pipes forgotten.</p> + +<p>"And then...?" the Amenokal demanded.</p> + +<p>"The new ways taught the enemy how to make guns, and artillery, and +finally Gatling guns, which today we call machine guns. And once a +brave warrior might prevail against a common man armed with the +weapons of the new ways, and even twice he might. But the numbers of +the followers of the new ways are as the sands of the Great Erg and in +time bravery means nothing."</p> + +<p>"It is even so," someone growled. "They are as the sands of the erg, +and they have the weapons of the djinn, as each man knows."</p> + +<p>"And what happened in the end, O El Hassan?"</p> + +<p>His eyes swept them all. "They perished," Homer said. "Today in all +the land where once the Cheyenne pursued the game there is but a +handful of the tribe alive. And they have become nothing people, no +longer warriors, no longer nomads, and they are scorned by all for +they are poor, poor, poor. Poor in mind and spirits, and in property +and they have not been able to adjust to the ways of the new world."</p> + +<p>Air went out of the lungs of the assembled Tuareg.</p> + +<p>The Amenokal looked at him. "This is verily the truth, El Hassan?"</p> + +<p>"My head upon it," Crawford said.</p> + +<p>"And why do you tell us of these Cheyenne, these great warriors of the +plains of the land of your birth? The story fails to bring joy to +hearts already heavy with the troubles of the Tuareg."</p> + +<p>It was time to play the joker.</p> + +<p>Crawford said carefully, "Because there was no need, O Amenokal of all +the Ahaggar, for the Cheyenne to disappear before the sandstorm of the +future. They could have ridden before it and today occupy a position +of honor and affluence in their former land."</p> + +<p>They stared at him.</p> + +<p>"And give up the old ways?" Guémama demanded. "Become no longer +nomads, no longer honorable warriors, but serfs, slaves, working with +one's hands upon the land and with the oil-dirty machines of the +Roumi?"</p> + +<p>The chiefs muttered angrily.</p> + +<p>Crawford said hurriedly, "No! Never! In our great conferences, my +viziers and I decided that the Tuareg could never so change. The +Tuareg must die, as did the Northern Cheyenne before he would become a +city dweller, a worker of the land."</p> + +<p>"Bismillah!" someone muttered.</p> + +<p>"Too often," Crawford explained, "do the bringers of these things of +the future, be they Roumi or others, fail to utilize the potential +services of the people of the lands they over-sweep."</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you, El Hassan," Melchizedek grumbled. "There is +no room for the Tuareg in this new world of bringing trees to the +desert, of the great trucks which speed across the erg a score of time +the pace of a <i>hejin</i> racing camel, of larger and ever larger oases +with their great towns, their schools, their new industries. If the +Tuareg remains Tuareg, he cannot fit into this new world, it destroys +the old traditions, the old way which is the Tuareg way."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford now turned on the pressure. His voice took on overtones +of the positive, his personality seemed to reach out and seize them, +and even his physical stature seemed to grow.</p> + +<p>"Some indeed of the ways of the bedouin must go," he entoned, "but the +Tuareg will survive under my leadership. A people who have throve a +millennium and more in the great wastes of the Sahara have strong +survival characteristics and will blossom, not die, in my new world. +Know, O Melchizedek, that it has been decided that the Ahaggar Tuareg +will be the heart of my Desert Legion. In times of conflict, armed +with the new arms, and riding the new vehicles, they will adapt their +old methods of warfare to this new age. In times of peace they will +patrol the new forests, watching for fire and other disaster, they +will become herdsmen of the new herds and be the police and rescue +forces of this wide area. As the Cheyennes of the olden times of the +land of my birth could have become herdsmen and forest rangers and +have performed similar tasks had they been shown the way."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford let his eyes go from one of them to the next, and his +personality continued to dominate them.</p> + +<p>The Amenokal ran his thin, aged hand through the length of his white +beard beneath his teguelmoust and contemplated this stranger come out +of the ergs to lead his people to still greater changes than those +they had thus far rebelled against.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Crawford realized that the Targui was divided in opinion and inwardly +the American was in a cold sweat. But his voice registered only +supreme confidence. "Under my banner, all North Africa will be welded +into one. And all the products of the land will be available in +profusion to my faithful followers. The finest wheat for cous cous +from Algeria and Tunis, the finest dates and fruits from the oases to +the north, the manufactured products of the factories of Dakar and +Casablanca. For Africa has always been a poor land but will become a +rich one with the new machines and techniques that I will bring."</p> + +<p>The Amenokal raised a hand to stem the tide of oratory. "And what do +you ask of us now, El Hassan?"</p> + +<p>Instead of to the older man, Crawford turned his eyes to the face of +Guémama, the leader of the young clansmen. "Now my people are +gathering to establish the new rule. Teda from the east, Chaambra from +the north, Sudanese from the south, Nemadi, Moors and Rifs from the +west. We rendezvous in ten days from now at Tamanrasset where the Arab +Legion dogs have seized the city as they wish to seize all the lands +of the Sahara and Sudan for the corrupt Arab Union politicians."</p> + +<p>Crawford came to his feet. His voice took on an edge of command. "You +will address your scouts and warriors and each will ride off on the +swiftest camels at your command to raise the Tuareg tribes. And the +clans of the Kel Rela will unite with the Taitoq and the Tégéhé Mellet +in a great harka at this point and we will ride together to sweep the +Arab Legion from the lands of El Hassan."</p> + +<p>Guémama was on his feet, too. "Bilhana!" he roared. "With joy."</p> + +<p>The others were arising in excitement, all but Melchizedek, who still +stroked his gray streaked beard beneath his teguelmoust. The Amenokal +had seen much of desert war in his day and knew the horror of the new +weapons possessed by the crack troops of the Arab Legion.</p> + +<p>But his aged shoulders shrugged against the inevitable.</p> + +<p>Crawford said, the ring of authority in his voice. "What does the +Amenokal of all the Ahaggar say?" He had no intention of antagonizing +the Tuareg chief by going over his head and directly to the people.</p> + +<p>"Thou art El Hassan," Melchizedek said, his voice low, "and +undoubtedly it is fated that the Tuareg follow you, for verily there +is no way else to go, as each man knows."</p> + +<p>"Wallahi!" Guémama crowed jubilantly.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_007.jpg" width="600" height="419" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<h2>V</h2> + +<p>Guémama, nephew of Melchizedek the Amenokal of the Ahaggar Tuareg +confederation and fighting chief of the Kel Rela clan of the Kel Rela +tribe, brought his Hejin racing camel to an abrupt halt with a smack +of his mish'ab camel stick. He barked, "<i>Adar-ya-yan</i>," in command to +bring it to its knees, and slid to the ground before his mount had +groaned its rocking way to the sand.</p> + +<p>The Tarqui was jubilant. His dark eyes sparked above his teguelmoust +veil and he presented himself before Homer Crawford with the elan of a +Napoleonic cavalryman before his emperor. Were red leather fil fil +boots capable of producing a clicking of heels, that sound would have +rung.</p> + +<p>Crawford said with dignity, "Aselamu, Aleikum, Guémama. Greeting to +you."</p> + +<p>"Salaam Aleikum," the tribesman got out breathlessly. "Your message +spreads, O El Hassan. My men ride to eastward and westward and never a +tent from here to Silet, from In Guezzam to Timissao but knows that El +Hassan calls. The Taitoq and the Tégéhé Mellet ride!"</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford was standing before the hovercraft. The Amenokal's +tribesmen had set up two large goat leather tents for his use and the +three Americans had largely withdrawn to their shelter. Crawford was +aware of the dangers of familiarity.</p> + +<p>Cliff Jackson, who as usual had been monitoring the radio, came from +the hover-lorry and growled, "What's he saying?"</p> + +<p>"The tribesmen are gathering as per instructions," Homer said in +English.</p> + +<p>Jackson grunted, somewhat self-conscious of the Targui's admiring +gaze. The Tuareg is the handsomest physical specimen of North Africa, +often going to six foot of wiry manhood, but there was nothing in all +the Sahara to rival the build of Homer Crawford, not to speak of the +giant Cliff Jackson.</p> + +<p>Crawford turned back to the Tuareg chieftain. "You please me well, O +Guémama. Know that I have been in conference with my viziers on the +Roumi device which enables one to speak great distances and that we +have decided that you are to head all the fighting clans of the +Ahaggar, and that you will ride at the left hand of El Hassan, as +shield on shoulder rides."</p> + +<p>The Targui, overwhelmed, made adequate pledges of fidelity, flowering +words of thanks, and then hurried off to inform his fellow tribesmen +of his appointment.</p> + +<p>Isobel emerged from her tent. She looked at Homer obliquely, the sides +of her mouth turning down. "As shield on shoulder rides," she +translated from the Tamaheq Berber tongue into English. "Hm-m-m." She +cast her eyes upward in memory. "You aren't plagiarizing Kipling, are +you?"</p> + +<p>Crawford grinned at her. "These people like a well turned phrase."</p> + +<p>"And who could turn them better than Rudyard?" she said. Her voice +dropped the bantering tone. "What's this bit about making Guémama +war-chief of the Tuareg? Isn't he on the young and enthusiastic +side?"</p> + +<p>Cliff scowled. "You mean that youngster? Why he can't be more than in +his early twenties."</p> + +<p>Crawford was looking after the young Targui who was disappearing into +his uncle's tent on the far side of the rapidly growing encampment.</p> + +<p>"You mean the age of Napoleon in the Italian campaign, or Alexander at +Issus?" he asked. Isobel began to respond to that, but he shook his +head. "He's the Amenokal's nephew, and traditionally would probably +get the position anyway. He's the most popular of the young tribesmen, +and it's going to be they who do the fighting. Having the appointment +come from El Hassan, and at this early point, will just bind him +closer. Besides that, he's a natural born warrior. Typical. +Enthusiastic, bold, brave and with the military mind."</p> + +<p>"What's a military mind?" Cliff said.</p> + +<p>"He can take off his shirt without unbuttoning his collar," Homer told +him.</p> + +<p>"Very funny," Cliff grumbled.</p> + +<p>Isobel turned to the big Californian. "What's on the radio, Cliff?"</p> + +<p>"Let's go get a cup of coffee," he said. "All hellzapoppin."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="p1">T</span>hey went into the larger of the two Tuareg tents, and Isobel poured +water from a girba into the coffee pot which she placed on a heat +unit, flicking its switch. She said sarcastically, from the side of +her mouth, "A message, O El Hassan, from the Department of Logistics, +subdepartment Commissary of Headquarters of the Commander in Chief. +Unless you get around to capturing some supplies in the near future, +your food is going to be prepared over a camel dung fire. This heat +unit is fading out on me."</p> + +<p>"Don't bother me with trivialities," Homer told her. "I've got <i>big</i> +things on my mind."</p> + +<p>She looked at him suspiciously. "Hm-m-m. Such as what?"</p> + +<p>"Such as whether to put my face on the postage stamps profile or +full."</p> + +<p>She said, under her breath, "I shoulda known. Already, delusions of +grandeur."</p> + +<p>"Holy Mackerel," Cliff protested. "Aren't we ever serious around this +place? You two will wind up gagging with the firing squad."</p> + +<p>Crawford chuckled softly but let his face go serious. "Sorry, Cliff. +What's on your mind?"</p> + +<p>Cliff said impatiently, "From the radio reports, the Arab Union is +consolidating its position. El Hassan is being discredited by the +minute. Your followers were in control for a time in Mopti and Bamako, +but they're falling away because of lack of direction. The best way I +can put reports together, the Reunited Nations is in complete +confusion. Everybody accusing everybody of double-dealing."</p> + +<p>Isobel said dryly, "Any other good news?"</p> + +<p>Cliff said glumly, "Rumors, rumors, rumors. Half the marabouts in +North Africa are proclaiming a jehad in support of the Pan-Islam +program of the Arab Union. Listen, Homer, we've got to get the +backing of the Moslem leaders."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford grunted. "We need Islam in this part of the world like +we need a hole in the head. That's one of the things already wrong +with North Africa."</p> + +<p>"What's wrong with Islam? It was probably the most dynamic religion +ever to sweep the world."</p> + +<p>"<i>Was</i> is right," Crawford growled, now on one of his favorite peeve +subjects. "The Moslem religion exploded out of Arabia with some new +concepts that set the world in ferment from India to Southern France. +For all practical purposes Islam <i>invented</i> science. Sure, the Greeks +had logic and the Romans had engineering—without applying the +Greek-style logic. But the Arabs amalgamated the two concepts to yield +experimental science. They were able to take the intellectual products +of a dozen cultures and wield them into one. For a hundred years or so +it looked as though they had something."</p> + +<p>When he hesitated for a moment, Isobel said, questioningly, "And ..."</p> + +<p>"And they couldn't get away from that Q'ran of theirs. They took it +seriously. They started off in their big universities, such as those +at Fez, being the greatest scientists and scholars the world had ever +seen. But the fundamentalists won out, and in a couple of hundred +years the only thing being taught at Fez was the Q'ran. To even +suggest that all necessary information isn't contained therein, is +enough to have you clobbered. Islam became the most reactionary force +to suppress progress in the civilized world. In fact, by this period +in world history, we don't even think of the Moslem world as +particularly civilized."</p> + +<p>Cliff said defensively, "The Bible doesn't encourage original thinking +either. A fundamentalist ..."</p> + +<p>"Sure," Crawford interrupted. "Those elements who take the Bible the +way Islam took the Q'ran wind up in the same rut. But <i>as a whole</i>, +Europe was sparked enough by the original Islamic explosion that the +Renaissance resulted, with what world results we all know. Be ..."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There was a roar of confusion outside. A blasting of guns, a shrieking +of <i>Ul-Ul-Ul-Allah Akbar!</i></p> + +<p>Crawford came to his feet unhappily. "Another contingent of Tuareg," +he said. "I'll have to give them a quick welcoming to the colors +speech."</p> + +<p>The guns outside continued their booming.</p> + +<p>"Confound it," he growled, "I wish I could break them of that habit of +blasting away their ammunition. They'll have better targets before the +week is out."</p> + +<p>He pushed open the tent flap and, followed by Isobel and Cliff, +emerged into the stretch of clearing between his tents and the +hovercraft, and the growing Tuareg encampment. His diagnosis had been +correct. A contingent of possibly two score Tuareg camelmen had come +a-galloping up, shaking rifles above their heads in a small scale +gymhana, or fantasia as the Moors called them.</p> + +<p>"At least it's a larger group than usual," Cliff said from behind. +"But at this rate, it'll still take a month for us to equal the Arab +Legion in Tamanrasset." He added in disgust, "And look at this bunch +of ragamuffins. Half of them are carrying muzzleloaders."</p> + +<p>The booming muskets and the cracking rifles suddenly began to fall off +in intensity and the camelmen and the hordes of Tuareg women and naked +children who had swarmed from the tents to greet them were falling +silent. Here and there a hand pointed upward.</p> + +<p>Homer, Cliff and Isobel swung their own eyes up to the sky in dreaded +anticipation. The hover-lorry was camouflaged to blend in with the +sands and rock outcroppings of this area, but it was possible that an +aircraft might have determined that this was El Hassan's base, +possibly through some act of a traitor, in which case ...</p> + +<p>They found the spot in the sky that the tribesmen were pointing out. +It seemed to move slowly for a military craft, but for that matter it +might be a helio-jet and considerably more dangerous, so far as they +being spotted was concerned, than a fast moving fighter.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_008.jpg" width="400" height="595" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Guémama, was barking to his men to take cover. Two days before +Crawford had checked out several of the more bright-eyed on the flac +rifle and now three of them ran to where it was set up at a high +point.</p> + +<p>But hardly had the confused milling got under way than it fell off +again. Movement stopped, and the Tuareg faced the approaching dot in +the sky.</p> + +<p>"Djinn...!"</p> + +<p>"Afrit...!"</p> + +<p>Cliff had darted back into the tent, now he emerged with binoculars.</p> + +<p>"What the devil is it?" Crawford snapped. Desert trained eyes were +evidently considerably more effective than his own. He couldn't see +what the tribesmen were gaping at.</p> + +<p>"It's the smallest heliohopper <i>I've</i> ever seen," Cliff snorted. "It's +so small practically all you can see are the rotors and the passenger. +He doesn't even look as though he's got a seat."</p> + +<p>Guémama came hurrying up, his eyes wide beneath his teguelmoust. "El +Hassan! A witchman ... come out of the sky!"</p> + +<p>Homer said evenly, "It is nothing. Only post men ready to obey my +commands."</p> + +<p>Guémama hesitated as though to waver out another protest, but then +spun and hurried off—military-like, glad to have an order to obey to +keep his mind from the impossible.</p> + +<p>"I'm beginning to have a sneaking suspicion—" Crawford began without +finishing. "Come on Isobel, Cliff. We're going to have to make the +most of this."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="p1">R</span>ex Donaldson, ex-field man for the African Department of the British +Commonwealth, dropped the lift lever of his heliohopper and settled to +the ground immediately before Homer Crawford who stood there flanked +by Isobel Cunningham and Cliff Jackson. Further back and in the form +of a crescent were possibly two or three hundred Tuareg of all ages +and both sexes.</p> + +<p>Donaldson, in the garb of a Dogan juju man consisting of little more +than a wisp of cloth about his loins, played it straight, not knowing +the setup. On the face of it, he had just flown out of the sky +<i>personally</i>. The size of his equipment so small as to be all but +meaningless.</p> + +<p>He unstrapped himself from the thin, bicyclelike seat, and, +expressionlessly, folded the rotors of his tiny craft back over +themselves and the engine, collapsed the whole thing into a manageable +packet of some seventy-five pounds, the seat now becoming a handle, +and then turned and faced Crawford.</p> + +<p>Donaldson screwed his wizened face into an expression of respect and +made a motion of obeisance. Then he waited.</p> + +<p>Isobel said, "El Hassan bids you speak."</p> + +<p>That was the tip-off, then. Crawford had already revealed himself to +these people as El Hassan. Very well.</p> + +<p>Donaldson spoke in Arabic, not knowing the Tamaheq tongue. "Aselamu, +Aleikum, El Hassan. I come to obey your wishes."</p> + +<p>A sigh had gone through the Tuareg. "Aiiiii." <i>Wallahi, even the +djinn obeyed El Hassan!</i></p> + +<p>With dignity, Homer Crawford said, "Keif halak, all in my house is +yours."</p> + +<p>Rex Donaldson inclined his small bent body again, in respect.</p> + +<p>Crawford said in English, "Let's not carry this <i>too</i> far. Come on +into the tent."</p> + +<p>Ignoring the Tuareg, who still gaped but held their distance, the four +English-speaking Negroes headed for the larger of the two tents that +had been set up for El Hassan.</p> + +<p>As they passed Guémama who stood slightly aside from the other Tuareg +with his uncle Melchizedek, the Amenokal, Crawford nodded and said, +speaking to them both. "A messenger from my people to the south. +Continue with your newly arrived warriors, O Guémama."</p> + +<p>Cliff Jackson had picked up the folded heliohopper and was now +carrying it easily.</p> + +<p>Guémama looked at the device and blinked.</p> + +<p>Crawford refrained from laughing at his commander of irregulars. "It +is not a <i>kambu</i> device. My people deal not in magic. It is but one of +the many of the things the new ways bring. One day, Guémama," Homer's +face remained expressionless, "perhaps you will fly thus."</p> + +<p>The teguelmoust hid the other's blanch.</p> + +<p>In the tent, Homer turned to the Bahaman, motioned to what seating +arrangements were available.</p> + +<p>Isobel said, "I'll get some coffee."</p> + +<p>Cliff blurted, "Holy Mackerel, if Donaldson, here, can drop in on us +out of a clear sky, what keeps anybody else from doing it? Somebody +with a couple of neopalm bombs in the way of calling cards."</p> + +<p>The dried up little man grimaced in his equivalent of a grin and said, +"Hold it, you chaps. I want to notify the others."</p> + +<p>"The others? What others?" Crawford said.</p> + +<p>Donaldson ignored him for a moment, unslung the small bag he carried +over one shoulder and dipped into it for a tiny, two-way radio. He +pressed the buzzer button, then held it up to his mouth. "Jack, Jimmy, +Dave. Here we are. Took donkey's years, but I found them. You chaps +zero-in here." He left the device on and set it to one side, then +yawned and settled himself to the rug-covered ground, crosslegged, +Dogon style.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford, even as he sat down himself on a footlocker, in lieu +of a chair, rapped, "How did you find us? Who did you just radio? +Where'd you come from?"</p> + +<p>"I say, hold it," Donaldson chuckled sourly. "First of all, I've come +to join up. I thought as far back as that time we co-operated in +quelling the riots in Mopti that you ought to do this—proclaim +yourself El Hassan. When I heard you'd taken the step, I came to join +up."</p> + +<p>"Oh, great," Cliff said. "What took you so long? We hardly get here, +to our ultra-secret hideout, than here you are."</p> + +<p>Isobel came with the coffee and handed it around, silently. Then she, +too, settled to the rug which covered the sand of the floor.</p> + +<p>Rex Donaldson turned to Cliff and there was a wrinkle of amusement in +the older man's eyes. "I took so long, because I needed the time to +recruit a few other chaps I knew would stand with us."</p> + +<p>Crawford rapped, "That's who you just radioed?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, old boy. I'd hardly bring the opposition down on us, would +I?"</p> + +<p>"Where are they?"</p> + +<p>"In a couple of hovercraft, similar to your own, possibly twenty +kilometers to the southwest."</p> + +<p>"You still haven't told us how you found us?"</p> + +<p>The little man shrugged. "After tendering my resignation to Sir +Winton, I considered the possibilities, which narrowed down very +quickly when I heard the Arab Legion had taken Tamanrasset."</p> + +<p>"Why?" Isobel said.</p> + +<p>Donaldson shot a glance at her. "Because, my dear, unless El Hassan is +able to retake Tamanrasset, his movement has come a cropper." He +turned his eyes back to Crawford, who was nervously running his hand +through his hair. "I knew you had done considerable work in this area, +so your whereabouts became obvious seeing that Tamanrasset is in +Tuareg country. It was simply a matter of finding what Tuareg +encampment was your base, and since your quickest manner of gathering +support would be to swing the Amenokal to your banner, I headed for +his usual encampment this time of year."</p> + +<p>Cliff looked at Homer Crawford. "If Rex found us so easily, so will +anybody else."</p> + +<p>Isobel put in. "Not necessarily. Mr. Donaldson has information that +most of El Hassan's opponents wouldn't."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Homer came to his feet unhappily and began pacing. "No, Isobel. +Ostrander, for instance, has all the dope Rex has and is just as +capable of working it through to a conclusion. It takes no great +insight to realize El Hassan has to either put up or shut up when it +comes to Tamanrasset. That's possibly why some of the other elements +interested in North Africa have so far refrained from action against +the Arab Union. They want to see what El Hassan is going to do—find +out just what he has on the ball."</p> + +<p>Rex Donaldson looked at him interestedly, "And? What are your plans?"</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford's face worked. "My plans right at present are to stay +alive, and you finding me so easily isn't heartening. However, it +brings to mind some other problems which need solving, too."</p> + +<p>The rest of them fell silent, looking at him. His usual casual humor +had dropped away, and his personality gripped them.</p> + +<p>He stopped his pacing, and frowned down at them.</p> + +<p>"El Hassan is going to have to remain on the move. Always. There can +be no capital city, no definite base, and it's going to be a poor idea +to sleep twice in the same place." He shook his head emphatically as +though to deny rebuttal, which they hadn't actually made. "El Hassan's +enemies mustn't know his location within twenty miles."</p> + +<p>"Twenty miles!" Cliff blurted.</p> + +<p>Crawford stared at him, but unseeingly. "Yes. At least half a dozen of +our opponents possess nuclear weapons."</p> + +<p>Donaldson demured, sourly. "A nuclear weapon hasn't been exploded for +donkey's years and—"</p> + +<p>"Of course not," Homer snapped. "Nor would anyone dare, anywhere else +except in the wastes of the Sahara. A nuclear explosion in the Ahaggar +would not go undetected and a controversy might go up in the Reunited +Nations. But who could prove who had done it? And who, actually, would +care if in the explosion a common foe of all was eliminated? But let +the Arab Union, or possibly the Soviet Complex, or even others, learn +definitely where El Hassan is and a bomb could well devastate twenty +square miles seeking him out." Crawford shook his head. "No, we've +simply got to keep on the move."</p> + +<p>Donaldson said, even as he nodded agreement, "And what other problems +were you talking about?"</p> + +<p>"Oh?" Homer said. "Well, keeping on the move will serve to add mystery +to the El Hassan legend. It isn't good for this Tuareg encampment, +for instance, to see too much of El Hassan. A leader claiming +domination of half a continent looks small potatoes in a desert camp +of a few score tents. On the move, showing up here, there, the other +place, for only a day or two at a time, is another proposition."</p> + +<p>He thought a moment. "Remember DeGaulle?"</p> + +<p>"How could we forget?" Rex Donaldson said wryly.</p> + +<p>"He had one angle that couldn't be more correct. He said a leader had +to keep remote, ever mysterious. He can't afford to have real +intimates. Napoleon, Hitler, Stalin. None of them had a real friend to +their name. The nearest to friends that Adolph the Aryan ever had, his +old comrades of the beerhall days, such as Rhoem, he butchered in the +blood purge. And Stalin? He managed to do away with every Old +Bolshevik he knew in the days before the Party came to power."</p> + +<p>Cliff was staring at him. "Hey," he said. "The one other thing one of +these mystical leader types needs is a belief in his own destiny. To +the point of clobbering all his intimates if he thinks they stand in +his way."</p> + +<p>Homer broke into a sudden short laugh. "Any qualms, Cliff?"</p> + +<p>Cliff growled, "I don't know. This dream of yours is growing. Where it +might end—I don't know."</p> + +<p>As they were talking the cries of <i>Ul-Ul-Ul-Allah Akbar!</i> had broken +out again.</p> + +<p>"Heavens to Betsy," Isobel said. "Another contingent of camelmen?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="p1">B</span>ut this time the newcomers were three in number and rode in air +cushion hover-lorries, the twins of that used by Homer Crawford.</p> + +<p>Rex Donaldson brought them up to the tent, saying, "I didn't think you +chaps were quite so close."</p> + +<p>Homer, Cliff and Isobel faced the new recruits. The three were dressed +in khaki bushshirts, shorts and heavy walking shoes—British style. +Two were so obviously relatives that they could have been twins except +for an age discrepancy of two or three years. They were smaller in +stature than the Americans present, almost chunky, but their faces +held education and cultivation. The third was slight of build, almost +as wiry as Rex Donaldson, and seemed ever at ease.</p> + +<p>The small, bent Bahaman made introductions. "Gentlemen, let me present +El Hassan—Homer Crawford to you—formerly of the Reunited Nations +African Development Project, formerly of the United States of the +Americas." His face twisted in his sour grimace of a grin. "Now +running for the office of tyrant of North Africa."</p> + +<p>"And these are two of his original and most trusted adherents, Isobel +Cunningham and Cliff Jackson." Donaldson turned to the newcomers. +"John and James Peters—that's Jack and Jimmy, of course—recently +colleagues of mine with the African Department of the Commonwealth, +working largely in the Nigeria area."</p> + +<p>Homer shook hands, grinning. "You're a long way from home."</p> + +<p>"Farther than that," the one labeled Jack said without a smile +changing the seriousness of his face. "We're originally from +Trinidad."</p> + +<p>Donaldson said, "And this is David Moroka, late of South Africa."</p> + +<p>The wiry South African said easily, "Not so very late. In fact, I +haven't seen Jo-burg since I was a boy."</p> + +<p>He was shaking hands with Isobel now. "Jo-burg?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Johannesburg," he translated. "I got out by the skin of my teeth +during the troubles in the 1950s."</p> + +<p>"You sound like an American," Cliff said when it was his turn to +shake.</p> + +<p>"Educated in the States," Moroka said. "Best thing that ever happened +to me was to be kicked out of the land of my birth."</p> + +<p>Homer made a sweeping gesture at the floor and the few articles of +furniture the tent contained that could be improvised as chairs. "I'm +surprised you're up here instead of in your own neck of the woods," he +said to the South African.</p> + +<p>Moroka shrugged. "I was considering heading south when I ran into +Jimmy and Jack, here. They'd already got the word on the El Hassan +movement from Rex. Their arguments made sense to me."</p> + +<p>Eyes went to the brothers from Trinidad and Jack Peters took over the +position of spokesman. He said, seriously, as though trying to +convince the others, "North Africa is the starting point, the +beginning. Given El Hassan's success in uniting North Africa, the +central areas and later even the south will fall into line. Perhaps +one day there will be a union of <i>all</i> Africa."</p> + +<p>"Or at least a strong confederation," Jimmy Peters added.</p> + +<p>Homer nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps. But we can't look that far +forward now." He looked from one of the newcomers to the other. "I +don't know to what extent you fellows understand what the rest of us +have set out to accomplish but I suppose if you've been with Rex for +the past week, you have a fairly clear idea."</p> + +<p>"I believe so," Jack nodded, straight-faced.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford said slowly, "I don't want to give you the wrong idea. +If you join up, you'll find it's no parade. Our chances were slim to +begin, and we've had some setbacks. As you've probably heard, the Arab +Union has stolen a march on us. And from what we can get on the radio, +we have thus far to pick up a single adherent among the world powers."</p> + +<p>"<i>Powers?</i>" Cliff snorted. "We haven't got a nation the size of Monaco +on our side."</p> + +<p>Moroka shot a quick glance at the big Californian.</p> + +<p>Isobel caught it and laughed. "Cliff's a perpetual sourpuss," she +said. "However, he's been in since the first."</p> + +<p>The South African looked at her in turn. "We were hardly prepared to +find a beautiful American girl in the Great Erg," he said.</p> + +<p>Something about his voice caused her to flush. "We've all caught +Homer's dream," she said, almost defensively.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>David Moroka flung to his feet, viper fast, and dashed toward Homer +Crawford, his hands extended.</p> + +<p>Automatically, Cliff Jackson stuck forward a foot in an attempt to +trip him—and missed.</p> + +<p>The South African, moving with blurring speed, grasped the +unsuspecting Crawford by the right hand and arm, swung with fantastic +speed and sent the American sprawling to the far side of the tent.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford, old in rough and tumble, was already rolling out. +Before the inertia of his fall had given way, his right hand, only a +split second before in the grip of the other, was fumbling for the 9 +mm Noiseless holstered at his belt.</p> + +<p>Rex Donaldson, a small handgun magically in his hand, was standing, +half crouched on his thin, bent legs. The two brothers from Trinidad +hadn't moved, their eyes bugging.</p> + +<p>Moroka was spinning with the momentum of the sudden attack he'd made +on his new chief. Now there was a gun in his own hand and he was +darting for the tent opening.</p> + +<p>Cliff yelled indignantly, "Stop him!"</p> + +<p>Isobel, on her feet by now, both hands to her mouth, was staring at +the goatskin tent covering, against which, a moment earlier, Crawford +had been gently leaning his back as he talked.</p> + +<p>There was a vicious slash in the leather and even as she pointed, the +razor-sharp arm dagger's blade disappeared. There was the sound of +running feet outside the tent.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford had assimilated the situation before the rest. He, too, +was darting for the tent entrance, only feet behind Moroka.</p> + +<p>Donaldson followed, muttering bitterly under his breath, his face +twisted more as though in distaste than in fighting anger.</p> + +<p>Cliff, too, finally saw light and dashed after the others, leaving +only Isobel and the Peters brothers. They heard the muffled coughing +of a silenced gun, twice, thrice and then half a dozen times, blurting +together in automatic fire.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford shuffled through the sand on an awkward run, rounding +the tent, weapon in hand.</p> + +<p>There was a native on the ground making final spasmatic muscular +movements in his death throes, and not more than three feet from him, +coolly, David Moroka sat, bracing his elbows on his knees and aiming, +two-handed, as his gun emptied itself.</p> + +<p>Crawford brought his own gun up, seeking the target, and clipping at +the same time, "We want him alive—"</p> + +<p>It was too late. Two hundred feet beyond, a running tribesman, long +arm dagger still in hand, stumbled, ran another three or four feet +with hesitant steps, and then collapsed.</p> + +<p>Moroka said, "Too late, Crawford. He would have got away." The South +African started to his feet, brushing sand from his khaki bush +shorts.</p> + +<p>The others were beginning to come up and from the Tuareg encampment a +rush of Guémama's men started in their direction.</p> + +<p>Crawford said unhappily, looking down at the dead native at their +feet, "I hate to see unnecessary killing."</p> + +<p>Moroka looked at him questioningly. "Unnecessary? Another split second +and his knife would have been in your gizzard. What do you want to +give him, another chance?"</p> + +<p>Crawford said uncomfortably, "Thanks, Dave, anyway. That was quick +thinking."</p> + +<p>"Thank God," Donaldson said, coming up, his wrinkled face scowling +unhappily, first at the dead man at their feet, and then at the one +almost a hundred yards away. "Are these local men? Where were your +bodyguards?"</p> + +<p>Cliff Jackson skidded to a halt, after rounding the tent. He'd heard +only the last words. "What bodyguards?" he said.</p> + +<p>Moroka looked at Crawford accusingly. "El Hassan," he said. "Leader of +all North Africa. And you haven't even got around to bodyguards? Do +you fellows think you're playing children's games? Gentlemen, I assure +you, the chips are down."</p> + + +<h2>VI</h2> + +<p><span class="p1">E</span>l Hassan's Tuaregs were on the move. After half a century and more of +relative peace the Apaches of the Sahara, the Sons of Shaitan and the +Forgotten of Allah were again disappearing into the ergs to emerge +here, there, and ghostlike to disappear again. They faded in and faded +away again, and even in their absence dominated all.</p> + +<p>El Hassan was on the move, as all men by now knew, and he, who was not +for the amalgamation of all North Africa, was judged against him. And +who, in the Sahara, could afford to be against El Hassan when his +Tuaregs were everywhere?</p> + +<p>Refugees poured into Tamanrasset for the security of Arab Legion arms, +or into In Salah and Reggan to the north, or Agades and Zinder to the +south. Refugees who had already taken their stand with the Arab Union +and Pan-Islam. Refugees who were men of property and would know more +of this El Hassan before risking their wealth. Refugees who took no +stand, but dreaded those who drank the milk of war, no matter the +cause for which they fought. Refugees who fled simply because others +fled, for terror is a most contagious disease.</p> + +<p>Colonel Midan Ibrahim of the crack motorized units of the Arab Legion +which occupied Tamanrasset, was fuming. His task was a double one. +First, to hold Tamanrasset and its former French stronghold Fort +Laperrine; second, to keep open his lines of communication with +Ghademès and Ghat, in Arab Union dominated Libya. To hold them until +further steps were decided upon by his superiors in Cairo and the +Near East—whatever these steps might be. Colonel Midan Ibrahim was +too low in the Arab Union hierarchy to be in on such privy matters.</p> + +<p>His original efforts, in pushing across the Sahara from Ghademès and +Ghat, had been no more than desert maneuvers. There had been no force +other than nature's to say him nay. The Reunited Nations was an +organization composed possibly of great powers, but in supposedly +acting in unison they became a shrieking set of hair-tearing women; +the whole being less than any of its individual parts. And El Hassan? +No more than a rumor. In fact, an asset because this supposed mystery +man of the desert, bent on uniting all North Africa under his +domination, gave the Arab Union, its alibi for stepping in with +Colonel Ibrahim's men.</p> + +<p>Yes, the original efforts had been but a drill. But now his Arab +Legion troopers were beginning to face reality. The supply trucks, +coming down under convoy from Ghademès, reported the water source at +Ohanet destroyed. The major well would take a week or more to repair. +Who had committed the sabotage? Some said the Tuareg, some said local +followers of El Hassan, others, desert tribesmen resentful of <i>both</i> +the Arab Union and El Hassan.</p> + +<p>One of his routine patrols, feeling out toward Meniet to the north, +had suddenly dropped radio communication, almost in mid-sentence. A +relieving patrol had thus far found nothing, the armored car's tracks +covered over by the sands.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_009.jpg" width="300" height="899" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>And rumors, rumors, rumors, Colonel Midan Ibrahim, born of +aristocratic Alexandrian blood, though trained to a sharp edge in Near +Eastern warfare, was basically city bred. The gloss of desert training +might take on him, but the bedouin life itself was not in his +experience, and it was hard for him to trace the dividing line between +possibility and fantasy.</p> + +<p>Rumors, rumors, rumors. They seemed capable of sweeping from one end +of the Sahara to the other in a matter of hours. Faster, it would seem +than the information could be dispensed by radio. El Hassan was here. +El Hassan was there. El Hassan was marching on Rabat, in Morocco; El +Hassan had just signed a treaty with the Soviet Complex; El Hassan had +been assassinated by a disgruntled follower. Or El Hassan was a +renegade Christian; El Hassan was a Moslem of Sheriffian blood, a +direct descendant of the Prophet; El Hassan was a pagan come up from +Dahomey and practiced ritual cannibalism; El Hassan was a Jew, a +veteran of the Israel debacle.</p> + +<p>But this Colonel Ibrahim knew—the Tuareg had gone over to the new +movement en masse. Something there was in El Hassan and his dream that +had appealed to the Forgotten of Allah. The Tuareg, for the first time +since the French Camel Corps had broken their strength, were +united—united and on the move.</p> + +<p>The Tuareg were everywhere. In most sinister fashion—everywhere. And +all were El Hassan's men.</p> + +<p>Colonel Ibrahim fumed and wondered what kept his superiors from +sending in additional columns, additional armored elements. And, above +all, adequate air cover. Ha! Give the colonel sufficient aircraft and +he'd begin snuffing out bedouin life like candles—and bring the Peace +of Allah to the Ahaggar.</p> + +<p>So Colonel Ibrahim fumed, demanded further orders from mum superiors, +and put his legionnaires to work on bigger and better gun +emplacements, trenches and pillboxes surrounding Fort Laperinne and +Tamanrasset.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p><span class="p1">E</span>l Hassan's personal entourage numbered exactly twenty persons. Of +these, five were his immediate English-speaking, Western-educated +supporters, Cliff, Isobel and the new Jack and Jimmy Peters and Dave +Moroka. Rex Donaldson had been sent south again to operate in Senegal +and Mali, to take over direction of the rapidly spreading movement in +such centers as Bamako and Mopti and later, if possible, in Dakar.</p> + +<p>The other fifteen were carefully selected Tuareg, picked from among +Guémama's tribesmen taking care to show no preference to any tribe or +clan, and taking particular care to choose men who fought coolly, +unexcitedly, and didn't froth at the mouth when in action; men who +were slow to charge wildly into the enemy's guns—but slower still to +retreat when the going was hot. El Hassan was prone to neither hero +nor coward in his personal bodyguard.</p> + +<p>They kept under movement. In Abelessa one day, almost in range of the +mobile artillery of the Arab Legion; in Timassao the next, checking +the wells that meant everything to a desert force; the following day +as far south as the Tamesna region to rally the less warlike +Irreguenaten, a half-breed Tuareg people largely held in scorn by +those of the Ahaggar.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford was killing time whilst stirring up as much noise and +dust as his handful of followers could manage. Killing time until +Elmer Allen from the Chaambra country, Bey-ag-Akhamouk from the Teda, +and Kenny Ballalou from the west could show up with their columns. He +had no illusions of how things now stood. At best, he could hold +together a thousand Tuareg fighting men. No more. The economics of +desert life prevented him a larger force, unless he had the resources +of the modern world at hand, and he didn't. Besides that, the Tuareg +confederation could provide no larger number of fighting men and at +the same time continue their desert economy.</p> + +<p>He stood now with Isobel, Cliff and Dave Moroka in one of the western +type tents which the Peters brothers had brought with them in their +hover-lorries, and poured over the half-adequate maps which covered +the area.</p> + +<p>Dave Moroka traced with a finger. "If we could dominate these wells +running to Djanet, our Arab Union friends would have only their one +line of supply going through Temassinine to Ghademès. That's a long +haul, Homer."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford scowled thoughtfully. "That involves only four wells. +If Ibrahim's legionnaires staked out only three armored vehicles at +each water hole, they could hold them. Our camelmen could never take +armor."</p> + +<p>Moroka frowned, too. "We've got to start <i>some</i> sort of action, or the +men will start dribbling away."</p> + +<p>Cliff Jackson said, "Bey and Kenny and Elmer should be coming soon. I +heard a radio item this morning about a big pro-El Hassan movement +starting in the Sudan among the Teda."</p> + +<p>Moroka said, "We need some sort of quick, spectacular victory. The +bedouin can lose interest as quickly as they can get steamed up, and +thus far we haven't given them anything but words—promises."</p> + +<p>"You're right," Homer growled, "but there's nothing we can do right +now but mark time. Irritate the Arabs a bit. Keep them from spreading +out."</p> + +<p>Isobel brought coffee, handing around the small Moroccan cups. She +said, "Well, one thing is certain. We get supplies soon or start +eating jerked goat and camel milk curds."</p> + +<p>Moroka said in irritation, "It's not funny."</p> + +<p>Isobel raised her eyebrows. "I didn't mean it to be. Have you ever +been on a camel curd diet?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have," Moroka said impatiently. He turned back to Homer +Crawford. "How about waylaying an armored car or so, just in the way +of giving the men something exciting to do?"</p> + +<p>Crawford ran a hand back through his short hair. "Confound it, Dave, +can you picture what a Recoilless-Brenn gun would do to a harka of our +charging camelmen? We can't let these people be butchered."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't thinking of wild charges," Moroka argued.</p> + +<p>They had both turned away from Isobel, in their discussion. Now she +looked at them, strangely. And especially at Homer Crawford. His +brusqueness toward her didn't seem the old Homer.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There was a bustle from outside and a guardsman stuck his head in the +tent entrance and reported in Tamaheq that a small camel patrol +approached.</p> + +<p>The four of them went out. Coming up were a dozen Tuareg and two motor +vehicles.</p> + +<p>Cliff said, "Something new."</p> + +<p>Moroka said, "We can use the transport."</p> + +<p>"Let's see who they are, before we start requisitioning their +property," Homer said dryly.</p> + +<p>The two desert trucks had hardly come to a halt before the camouflaged +tents and hover-lorries of El Hassan's small encampment before a +heavy-set, gray haired Negro, whose energy belied his weight, bounced +down from the seat adjacent to the driver's in the lead vehicle and +stomped belligerently to the group before the tent.</p> + +<p>"What is the meaning of this?" he snapped.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford looked at him. "I'm sure I don't know as yet, Dr. +Smythe. Neither you nor these followers of mine have informed me as to +what has transpired. Won't you enter my quarters here and we'll go +into it under more comfortable conditions?" He glanced upward at the +midday Saharan sun.</p> + +<p>The other seemed taken aback at Crawford calling him by name. He +squinted at the man who was seemingly his captor.</p> + +<p>"Crawford!" he snapped. "Dr. Homer Crawford! See here, what is the +meaning of this?"</p> + +<p>Homer said, "Dr. Warren Harding Smythe, may I present Isobel +Cunningham, Clifford Jackson and David Moroka, of my staff?"</p> + +<p>"Huuump. I met Miss Cunningham and, I believe, Mr. Jackson at that +ridiculous meeting in Timbuktu, a short time ago." The doctor peered +over his glasses at Moroka.</p> + +<p>The wiry South African nodded his head. "A pleasure, Doctor." He held +open the tent entrance.</p> + +<p>Smythe snorted again and stomped inside to escape the sun's glare.</p> + +<p>In the shade of the tent's interior, Isobel clucked at him and hurried +to get a drink of water from a moist water cooler. Homer Crawford +motioned the other to a seat, and took one himself. "Now then, Dr. +Smythe."</p> + +<p>The indignant medic blurted, "Those confounded bandits out there—"</p> + +<p>"Irregular camel cavalry," Crawford amended gently.</p> + +<p>"They've kidnapped me and my staff. I demand that you intercede, if +you have any influence with them."</p> + +<p>"What were you doing?" Crawford was frowning at the other. Actually, +he had no idea of the circumstances under which the probably +overenthusiastic Tuareg troopers had rounded up the American medical +man.</p> + +<p>"Doing? You know perfectly well I represent the American Medical +Relief. My team has been in the vicinity of Silet, working with the +nomads. The country is rife with everything from rickets to syphilis! +Eighty per cent of these people suffer from trachoma. My team—"</p> + +<p>"Just a moment," Moroka said. "You mean out in those two trucks you +have a complete American medical setup? Assistants and all?"</p> + +<p>Smythe said stiffly, "I have two American nurses with me and four +Algerians recruited in Oran. This sort of interference with my work is +insufferable and—"</p> + +<p>The South African was staring at Homer Crawford.</p> + +<p>Cliff Jackson cleared his throat. "It seems as though El Hassan has +just acquired a Department of Health."</p> + +<p>"El Hassan?" Smythe stuttered. "What, what?"</p> + +<p>Isobel said softly, "Dr. Smythe, surely you have heard of El Hassan."</p> + +<p>"Heard of him? I've heard of nothing else for the past month! +Confounded ignorant barbarian. What this part of the world needs is +<i>less</i> intertribal, interracial, international fighting, not more. The +man's a raving lunatic and—"</p> + +<p>Isobel said gently, "Doctor ... may I introduce you to El Hassan?"</p> + +<p>"What ... what—?" For the briefest of moments, there was an element +of timorness in the sputtering doctor's voice. Then suddenly he +comprehended.</p> + +<p>He pointed at Homer Crawford accusingly. "You're El Hassan!"</p> + +<p>Homer nodded, seriously, "That's correct, Doctor."</p> + +<p>The doctor's eyes went around the four of them. "You've done what you +were driving at there at that meeting in Timbuktu. You're trying to +unite these people in spite of themselves and then drag them, +willy-nilly, into the twentieth century."</p> + +<p>Homer still nodded.</p> + +<p>Smythe shook an indignant finger at him. "I told you then, Crawford, +and I tell you now. These natives are not suited for such sudden +change. Already they are subject to mass neurosis because they cannot +adjust to a world that changes too quickly."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if that doesn't apply to the rest of us as well," Cliff said +unhappily. "But the changes go on, if we like them or not. Can you +think of any way to turn them off?"</p> + +<p>The doctor snorted.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford said, "Dr. Smythe, the die is already cast. The +question now becomes, will you join us?"</p> + +<p>"Join you! Certainly not!"</p> + +<p>Crawford said evenly, "Then I might suggest that, first, you will not +be allowed to operate in my territory." He considered for a moment, +grinning inwardly, but on the surface his expression serene. He added, +"And second, that you will probably have difficulties procuring an +exit visa from my domains."</p> + +<p>"Exit visa! Are you jesting? See here, my good man, you realize I am a +citizen of the United States of the Americas and—"</p> + +<p>"A country," Homer yawned, "with which I have not as yet opened +diplomatic relations, and hence has little representation in North +Africa."</p> + +<p>The doctor was bug-eying him. He began sputtering again. "This isn't +funny. You're an American citizen yourself. And you, Miss Cunningham +and—"</p> + +<p>Isobel said sadly, "As a matter of fact, the last we heard, the State +Department representative told us our passports were invalid."</p> + +<p>Crawford leaned forward. "Look here, Doctor. You don't see eye to eye +with us on matters socio-economic. However, as a medical man, I submit +that joining my group ... ah, that is, until you can secure an exit +visa from my authorities ... will give you an excellent opportunity to +practice your science here in the Sahara under the wing of El Hassan. +I'll assign a place for your trucks and tents. Please consider the +question and let me have your answer at your leisure. Meanwhile, we +will prepare a desert feast suitable to the high esteem in which we +hold you."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="p1">T</span>hey looked after the doctor, as he left, and Moroka chuckled. +However, Isobel was watching Homer Crawford quizzically.</p> + +<p>She said finally, "We rode over him a little in the roughshod manner, +didn't we?"</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford growled uncomfortably, "Particularly when we finally +have our showdown with the Arab Legion, a medic will be priceless."</p> + +<p>Isobel said softly, "And the end justifies the means—"</p> + +<p>Homer shot a quick, impatient look at her. "The good doctor and his +people are in the Sahara to work with the Tuareg and the Teda and the +rest of the bedouin. Beyond that, he has the same dream we have—of +developing this continent of our racial background."</p> + +<p>"But he doesn't believe in your methods, Homer, and we're forcing him +to follow El Hassan's road in spite of his beliefs."</p> + +<p>Moroka had been peering at the two of them narrowly. "You don't make +omelets without breaking eggs," he said, his voice on the overbearing +side.</p> + +<p>She spun on him. "But the omelets don't turn out so well if some of +the eggs you use are rotten."</p> + +<p>The South African's voice turned gentle. "Miss Cunningham," he said, +"working in the field, like this, can have its rugged side for a young +and delicate woman—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Delicate!</i>" she snapped. "I'll have you know—"</p> + +<p>"Hey, everybody, hold it," Cliff injected. "What goes on?"</p> + +<p>Dave Moroka shrugged. "It just seems to me that Isobel might do better +back in Dakar, or in New York with your friend Jake Armstrong. +Somewhere where her sensibilities wouldn't be so bruised, and where +her assets"—his eyes went up and down her lithe body—"could be put +to better use."</p> + +<p>Isobel's sepia face had gone a shade or more lighter. She said, very +flatly, "My assets, Mr. Moroka, are in my head."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford said disgustedly, "O.K., O.K., let's all knock it off."</p> + +<p>His eyes flicked back and forth between them, in definite command. "I +don't want to hear any more in the way of personalities between you +two."</p> + +<p>Moroka shrugged again. "Yes, sir," he said without inflection.</p> + +<p>Isobel turned away and took up some paperwork, without further words. +She suppressed her feeling of seething indignation.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford, under his pressures, was changing. Possibly, she had +told herself before, it was change for the better. The need was for a +<i>strong</i> man, perhaps even a ruthless one.</p> + +<p>The Homer Crawford she had first known was an easier going man than +he who had snapped an abrupt order to her a moment ago. The Homer she +had first known requested things of his teammates and friends. El +Hassan had learned to command.</p> + +<p>The Homer she had first known could never have ridden, roughshod, over +the basically gentle Dr. Smythe.</p> + +<p>The Homer she had first known, when the El Hassan scheme was still +aborning, had thought of himself as a member of a team. He was quick +to ask advice of all, and quick to take it if it had validity. Now +Homer, as El Hassan, was depending less and less upon the opinions of +those surrounding him, more and more upon his own decisions which he +seemed to sometimes reach purely through intuition.</p> + +<p>The El Hassan dream was still upon her, but, womanlike, she wondered +if she liked the would-be tyrant of all North Africa as well as she +had once liked the easy-going American idealist, Homer Crawford.</p> + +<p>Jack and Jimmy Peters, the brothers from Trinidad, entered, the former +carrying a couple of books.</p> + +<p>They'd evidently failed to note the raised voices and wore their +customary serious expressions. Jack looked at Homer and said, "<i>Cu vi +scias Esperanton?</i>"</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford's eyebrows went up but he said, "<i>Jes, mi parolas +Esperanto tre bona, mi pensas.</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>Bona</i>," Jack said, "<i>Tre bona</i>."</p> + +<p>"<i>Jes, estas bele</i>," his brother said.</p> + +<p>Moroka was scowling back and forth from one of them to the other. "I +thought I had a fairly good working knowledge of the world's more +common languages," he said, "but that goes by me. It sounds like a +cross between Italian and pig-Latin."</p> + +<p>Homer said to the Peters brothers, "Let's drop Esperanto so that Dave, +Isobel and Cliff can follow us. We can give it a whirl later, if you'd +like, just for the practice."</p> + +<p>Isobel said slowly, "<i>Mi parolas Esperanto, malgranda</i>." Then in +English, "I took it for kicks while I was still in school. Kind of +rusty now, though."</p> + +<p>"Esperanto?" Cliff said. "You mean that gobblydygook so-called +international language?"</p> + +<p>Jack Peters looked at him, serious faced as always. "What is wrong +with an international language, Mr. Jackson?"</p> + +<p>Cliff was taken aback. "Search me. But it doesn't seem to have proved +very practical. It didn't catch on."</p> + +<p>"Well, more than you might think," Isobel told him. "There are +probably hundreds of thousands of persons in one part of the world or +another who can get along in Esperanto."</p> + +<p>Moroka said impatiently, "What're a few hundred thousands of people in +a world population like ours? Cliff's right. It never took hold."</p> + +<p>Homer said, "All right, Jack and Jimmy. You boys evidently have +something on your minds. Let everybody sit down and listen to it."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Even before they got thoroughly settled, Jack Peters was launching +into his pitch.</p> + +<p>"We need an official language," he said. "The El Hassan movement has +set as a goal the uniting of all North Africa. We might start here in +the Sahara, but it's just a start. Ultimately, the idea is to reach +from Morocco to Egypt and from the Mediterranean to ... to where? The +Congo?"</p> + +<p>"Actually, we've never set exact limits," Homer said.</p> + +<p>"Ultimately <i>all Africa</i>," Dave Moroka muttered softly. He ignored the +manner in which Isobel contemplated him from the side of her eyes.</p> + +<p>"All right," the West Indian said. "There are more than seven hundred +major languages, not counting dialects, in Africa. Sooner or later, we +need an official language, what is it going to be?"</p> + +<p>"Why <i>one</i> official language? Why not several?" Cliff scowled. "Say +Arabic, here in this area. Swahili on the East coast. And, say, +Songhoi along the Niger, and Wolof, the Senegalese lingua franca, +and—"</p> + +<p>"You see," Peters interrupted. "Already you have half a dozen and you +haven't even got out of this immediate vicinity as yet. Let me develop +my point."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford was becoming interested. "Go on, Jack," he said.</p> + +<p>Jack Peters pointed a finger at him. "To be the hero-symbol we have in +mind, El Hassan is going to have to be able to communicate with <i>all</i> +of his people. He's not going to be able to speak Arabic to, say, a +Masai in Kenya. They hate the Arabs. He's not going to be able to +speak Swahili to a Moroccan, they've never heard of the language. He +can't speak Tamaheq to the Imraguen, they're scared to death of the +Tuareg."</p> + +<p>Homer said thoughtfully, "A common language would be fine. It'd solve +a lot of problems. But it doesn't seem to be in the cards. Why not +adopt as our official language the one in which the <i>most</i> of our +people will be able to communicate? Say, Arabic?"</p> + +<p>Jack was shaking his head seriously. "And antagonize all the Arab +hating Bantu in Africa? It's no go, Homer."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, say French—or English."</p> + +<p>"English is the most international language in the world," Moroka +said. But his face was thoughtful, as those of the others were +becoming.</p> + +<p>The West Indian was beginning to make his points now. "No, any of the +European languages are out. The white man has been repudiated. +Adopting English, French, Spanish, Portuguese or Dutch, as our +official language would antagonize whole sections of the continent."</p> + +<p>"Why Esperanto?" Cliff scowled. "Why not, say, Nov-Esperanto, or Ido, +or Interlingua?"</p> + +<p>Jimmy Peters put in a word now. "Actually, any one of them would +possibly do, but we have a head start with Esperanto. Some years ago +both Jack and I became avid Esperantists, being naïve enough in those +days to think an international language would ultimately solve all +man's problems. And both Homer and Isobel seem to have a working +knowledge of the language."</p> + +<p>Homer said, "So have the other members of my former Reunited Nations team. +That's where those books you found came from. Elmer, Bey, Kenny ... and +Abe ... and I used to play around with it when we were out in the desert, +just to kill time. We also used it as sort of a secret language when we +wanted to communicate and didn't know if those around us might understand +some English."</p> + +<p>"I still don't get the picture," Cliff argued. "If we picked the most +common half a dozen languages in the territory we cover, then millions +of these people wouldn't have to study a second language. But if you +adapt Esperanto as an official language then <i>everybody</i> is going to +have to learn something new. And that's not going to be easy for our +ninety-five per cent illiterate followers."</p> + +<p>Isobel said thoughtfully, "Well, it's a darn sight easier to learn +Esperanto than any other language we decided to make official."</p> + +<p>"Why?" Cliff said argumentatively.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Jack Peters took over. "Because it's almost unbelievably easy to +learn. English, by the way, is extremely difficult. For instance, +spelling and pronunciation are absolutely phonetic in Esperanto and +there are only five vowel sounds where most national languages have +twenty or so. And each sound in the alphabet has one sound only and +any sound is always rendered by the same letter."</p> + +<p>Dave Moroka said, "Actually, I don't know anything at all about this +Esperanto."</p> + +<p>The West Indian took him in, with a dominating glance. "Take grammar and +syntax which can take up volumes in other languages. Esperanto has exactly +sixteen short rules. And take vocabularies. For instance, in English we +often form the feminine of a noun by adding <i>ess—actor-actress</i>, +<i>tiger-tigress</i>. But not always. We don't say <i>bull-bulless</i> or +<i>ghost-ghostess</i>. In Esperanto you simply add the feminine ending to any +noun—there's no exception to any rule."</p> + +<p>Jack Peters was caught up in his subject. "Still comparing it to +English, realize that spelling and pronunciation in English are highly +irregular and one letter can have several different sounds, and one +sound may be represented by different letters. And there are even +silent letters which are written but not pronounced like the <i>ugh</i> in +<i>though</i>. There are none of these irregularities in Esperanto. And the +sounds are all sharp with none of such subtle differences as, say, +<i>bed/bad/bard/bawd</i>, that sort of thing."</p> + +<p>Jimmy Peters said, "The big item is that any averagely intelligent +person can begin speaking Esperanto within a few hours. Within a week +of even moderate study, say three or four hours a day, he's +astonishingly fluent."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image_010.jpg" width="500" height="397" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Isobel said thoughtfully, "There'd be international advantages. It's +always been a galling factor in Africans dealing with Europeans that +they had to learn the European language involved. You couldn't expect +your white man to learn kitchen kaffir, or Swahili, or whatever, not +when you got on the diplomatic level."</p> + +<p>Cliff Jackson was thinking out loud. "So far, El Hassan is an unknown. +Rumor has it that he's everything from a renegade Egyptian, to an +escaped Mau-Mau chief, to a Senegalese sergeant formerly in the French +West African forces. But when he starts running into the press and +they find that Homer and his closest associates all speak English, and +most of them with an American accent, there's going to be some fat in +the fire."</p> + +<p>"And El Hassan will have lost some of his mysterious glamour," Homer +added thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>Even Moroka, the South African, was beginning to accept the idea. "If +El Hassan, himself, refused in the presence of foreigners ever to +speak anything but Esperanto, the aura of mystery would continue."</p> + +<p>Jimmy Peters, elaborating and obviously pushing an opinion he and his +brother had already discussed, said, "We make it a rule that every +school, both locally taught and foreign, must teach Esperanto as a +required subject. All El Hassan governmental affairs would be +conducted in that language. Anybody at all trying to get anywhere in +the new regime would have to learn the official inter-African tongue."</p> + +<p>"Oh, brother," Cliff groaned, "that means me." He brightened. "We +haven't any books or anything, as yet."</p> + +<p>Isobel laughed at him. "I'll take on your studies, Cliff. We have a +few books. Those that Homer and his team used to kill time with. And +as soon as we're in a position to make requests for foreign aid of the +great powers, Esperanto grammars, dictionaries and so forth can be +high on the list."</p> + +<p>With a sharp cry, almost a bark, a figure jumped into the entrance and +with a bound into the center of the tent, sub-machinegun in hand. +"<i>All right, everybody. On your feet. The place is raided!</i>"</p> + +<p>Dave Moroka leaped to his feet, his hand tearing with blurring speed +for his holstered hand gun. "Where's that bodyguard?" he yelled.</p> + + +<h2>VII</h2> + +<p><span class="p1">H</span>old it," Homer Crawford roared, jumping to his own feet and grabbing +the South African in his arms. He glared at the newcomer. "Kenny, you +idiot, you're lucky you don't have a couple of holes in you."</p> + +<p>Kenny Ballalou, grinning widely, stared at Dave Moroka. "Jeepers," he +said, "you got that gun out fast. Don't you ever stick 'em up when +somebody has the drop on you?"</p> + +<p>Dave Moroka relaxed, the side arm dropping back into its holster. +Homer Crawford released him and the South African ran a hand over his +mouth and shook his head ruefully at Kenny.</p> + +<p>Isobel and Cliff crowded up, the one to kiss Kenny happily, the other +to pound him on the back.</p> + +<p>Homer made introductions to Dave Moroka and the Peters brothers.</p> + +<p>"I've told you about Kenny," he wound it up. "I sent him over to the +west to raise a harka of Nemadi to help in taking Tamanrasset." He +joined Cliff Jackson in giving the smaller man an affectionate blow on +the shoulder. "What luck did you have, Kenny?"</p> + +<p>Kenny Ballalou rubbed himself ruefully. "If you two will stop beating, +I'll tell you. I didn't recruit a single Nemadi."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford looked at him.</p> + +<p>Kenny said to the tent at large. "Anybody got a drink around here? +Good grief, have I been covering ground."</p> + +<p>Isobel bustled off to a corner where she'd amassed most of their +remaining European type supplies, but she kept her attention on him.</p> + +<p>Dave Moroka said, his voice unbelieving, "You mean you haven't brought +any assistance <i>at all</i>?"</p> + +<p>Kenny grinned around at them. "I didn't say that. I said I didn't +recruit any of the Nemadi. I never even got as far as their +territory."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford sank back onto the small crate he'd been using as a +chair before Kenny's precipitate entrance. "O.K.," he said, "stop +dramatizing and let us know what happened."</p> + +<p>Kenny spread his hands in a sweeping gesture. "The country's alive +from here to Bidon Cinq and south to the Niger. Bourem and Gao have +gone over to El Hassan and a column of followers was descending on +Niamey. They should be there by now. I never got as far as Nemadi +country. I could have recruited ten thousand fighting men, but I +didn't know what we'd do with them in this country. So I weeded +through everybody who volunteered and took only veterans. Men who'd +formerly been in the French forces, or British, or whatever. Louis +Wallington and his team were in Bourem when I got there and—"</p> + +<p>"Who is Louis Wallington?" Jack Peters said.</p> + +<p>Homer looked over at the Peters brothers and Dave Moroka. "Head of a +six-man Sahara Development Project team like the one I used to head." +His eyes went back to Kenny. "What about Louis?"</p> + +<p>"He's come in with us. Didn't know how to get in touch, so he was +working on his own. And Pierre Dupaine. Remember him, the fellow from +Guadeloupe in the French West Indies, used to be an operative of the +African Affairs sector of the French Community? Well, he and a half +dozen of his colleagues have come in and were leading an expedition on +Timbuktu. But Timbuktu had already joined up too, before they got +there—"</p> + +<p>"Wow," Homer said. "It's really spreading."</p> + +<p>Cliff said, "Why isn't all this on the radio?"</p> + +<p>Isobel had brought Kenny a couple of ounces of cognac from their +meager supply. He knocked it back thankfully.</p> + +<p>Kenny said to Cliff, "Things are moving too fast, and communications +have gone to pot." He looked at Homer. "Have any of these journalists +found you yet?"</p> + +<p>"What journalists?"</p> + +<p>Kenny laughed. "You'll find out. Half the newspapers, magazines, +newsreels and TV outfits in the world are sending every man they can +release into this area. They're going batty trying to find El Hassan. +Man, do you realize the extent of the country your followers now +dominate?"</p> + +<p>Homer said blankly, "I hadn't thought of it. Besides, most of what +you've been saying is news to us here. We've been keeping on the +prod."</p> + +<p>Kenny grinned widely. "Well, the nearest I can figure it, El Hassan is +ruler of an area about the size of Mexico. At least it was yesterday. +By today, you can probably tack on Texas."</p> + +<p>Jimmy Peters, serious faced as usual, said, "Things are moving so +fast, we're going to have to run to keep ahead of El Hassan's +followers. One thing, Homer, we're going to have to have a press +secretary."</p> + +<p>"Elmer Allen was going to handle that, but he's still up north," +Isobel said.</p> + +<p>"I'll do it. Used to be a newspaperman, when I was younger," Dave +Moroka said quickly.</p> + +<p>Isobel frowned and began to say something, but Homer said, "Great, you +handle that, Dave." Then to Kenny, "Where're your men and how well are +they armed?"</p> + +<p>"Well, that's one trouble," Kenny said unhappily. "We requisitioned +motor transport from some of the Sahara Afforestation Project oases +down around Tessalit. In fact, Ralph Sandell, their chief mucky-muck +in those parts, has come over to us. But we haven't got much in the +way of shooting irons."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford closed his eyes wearily. "What it boils down to, still, +is that a hundred of those Arab Legionnaires, with their armor, could +finish us all off in ten minutes if it came to open battle."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="p1">E</span>l Hassan continued moving his headquarters, usually daily, but he +eluded the journalists only another twelve hours. Then they were upon +the mobile camp like locusts.</p> + +<p>And David Moroka took over with a calm efficiency that impressed all. +In the first place, he explained, El Hassan was much too busy to +handle the press except for one conference a week. In the second +place, he spoke only Esperanto to foreigners. Meanwhile, he, Dave +Moroka, would handle all their questions, make arrangements for +suitable photographs, and for the TV and newsreel boys to trundle +their equipment as near the front lines as possible. And, meanwhile, +James and John Peters of El Hassan's staff had prepared press releases +covering the El Hassan movement and its program.</p> + +<p>Homer, to the extent possible, was isolated from the new elements +descending upon his encampment. Attempting anything else would have +been out of the question. At this point, he was getting approximately +four hours of sleep a night.</p> + +<p>Kenny Ballalou was continually coming and going in a mad attempt to +handle the logistics of supplying several thousand men in a desert +area all but devoid of either water or graze, not to speak of food, +petroleum products and ammunition.</p> + +<p>Isobel and Cliff were thrown into the positions of combination +secretaries, ministers of finance, assistant bodyguards, and all else +that nobody else seemed to handle, <i>including</i> making coffee.</p> + +<p>It was Isobel who approached a subject which had long worried her, as +they drove across country, the only occupants of one of the original +hover-lorries, during a camp move.</p> + +<p>She said, hesitantly, "Homer, is it a good idea to give Dave such a +free hand with the press? You know, there are some fifty or so of them +around now and they must be influencing the TV, radio, magazines and +newspapers of the world."</p> + +<p>"He seems to know more about it than any of the rest of us," Homer +said, his eyes on the all but sand-obliterated way. "We're going to +have to move more of the men south. We simply haven't got water enough +for them. There'd be enough in Tamanrasset, but not out here. Make a +note to cover this with Kenny. I wonder where Bey is, and Elmer."</p> + +<p>Isobel made a note. She said, "Yes, but the trouble is, he's a +comparative newcomer. Are you <i>sure</i> he's in complete accord with the +original plan, Homer? Does the El Hassan dream mean the same to him as +it does to you, and ... well, me?"</p> + +<p>He shot her an impatient glance, even as he hit the lift lever to +raise them over a small dune. "You and Dave don't hit it off very +well. He's a good man, so far as I can see."</p> + +<p>Her delicate forehead wrinkled and her pixie face showed puzzlement. +"I don't know why. I get along with most people, Homer."</p> + +<p>He patted her hand. "You can't please everybody, Isobel. Listen, +something's got to be done about this king-size mob of camp followers +we've got. Did you know Common Europe sent in a delegation this +morning?"</p> + +<p>"Delegation? Common Europe—?"</p> + +<p>"Yeah. Haven't had time to discuss it with you. They found us just +before we raised camp. Evidently, the British Commonwealth and +possibly the Soviet Complex—some Chinese, I think—are also trying to +locate us. Half of these people are without their own equipment and +supplies, but that's not what worries me right now. We used to be able +to camouflage our headquarters camp. Dig into the desert and avoid the +aircraft. But if a group of bungling Common Market diplomats can +locate us, what's to keep the Arab Legion from doing it and blessing +us with a stick of neopalm bombs?"</p> + +<p>Isobel said, "Look, before we leave Dave. Did you know he was +confiscating all radio equipment brought into our camp by the newsmen +and whoever else?"</p> + +<p>Homer frowned. "Well, why?"</p> + +<p>"Espionage, Dave says. He's afraid some of these characters might be +in with the Arab Union and inform on us."</p> + +<p>"Well, that makes some sense," Homer nodded.</p> + +<p>"Does it?" Isobel grumbled.</p> + +<p>He shot an irritated glance at her again and said impatiently, "Can't +the poor guy do anything right?"</p> + +<p>"My woman's intuition is working," Isobel grumbled.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="p1">D</span>ave Moroka came into headquarters tent without introduction. He was +one of the half dozen who had permission for this. He had a sheaf of +papers in his left hand and was frowning unhappily.</p> + +<p>"What's the crisis?" Homer said.</p> + +<p>"Scouts coming up say your pal Bey-ag-Akhamouk is on the way. +Evidently, with a big harka of Teda from the Sudan."</p> + +<p>"Great." Homer crowed. "Now we'll get going."</p> + +<p>"Ha!" Dave said. "From what we hear, a good many are camel mounted. +How are we going to feed them? Already some of the Songhai Kenny +brought up from the south have drifted away, unhappy about supplies."</p> + +<p>"Bey's a top man," Homer told him. "The best. He'll have some ideas on +our tactics. Meanwhile, we can turn over most of his men to one of the +new recruits, and head them down to take Fort Lamy. With Fort Lamy and +Lake Chad in our hands we'll control a chunk of Africa so big +everybody else will start wondering why they shouldn't jump on the +bandwagon while the going is good."</p> + +<p>Dave said, "Well, that brings up something else, Homer. These new +recruits. In the past couple of days, forty or fifty men who used to +be connected with African programs sponsored by everybody from the +Reunited Nations to this gobblydygook outfit Cliff and Isobel once +worked for, the AFAA, have come over to El Hassan. The number will +probably double by tomorrow, and triple the next day."</p> + +<p>"Fine," Homer said. "What's wrong with that? These are the people +that will really count in the long run."</p> + +<p>"Nothing's wrong with it, within reason. But we're going to have to +start becoming selective, Homer. We've got to watch what jobs we let +these people have, how much responsibility we give them."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford was frowning at him. "How do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"See here," the wiry South African said plaintively, "when El Hassan +started off there were only a half dozen or so who had the dream, as +you call it. O.K. You could trust any one of them. Bey, Kenny, Elmer, +Cliff, this Jake Armstrong that you've sent to New York, Rex +Donaldson, then Jimmy and Jack Peters and myself. We all came in when +the going was rough, if not impossible. But now things are different. +<i>It looks as though El Hassan might actually win.</i>"</p> + +<p>"So?" Homer didn't get it.</p> + +<p>"So from now on, you're going to have an infiltration of cloak and +dagger lads from every outfit with an interest in North Africa. +Potential traitors, potential assassins, subversives and what not."</p> + +<p>Homer was scowling at him. "Confound it, what do you suggest? That +these Johnny-Come-Latelies be second-class citizens?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly that, but this isn't funny. We've got to screen them. The +trouble with this movement is that it's a one-man deal, and has to be. +The average African is either a barbarian or an actual savage, one +ethnic degree lower. He wants a hero-symbol to follow. O.K., you're +it. But remember both Moctezuma and Atahualpa. Their socio-economic +systems pyramided up to them. The Spanish conquistadores, being old +hands at sophisticated European-type intrigue, quickly sized up the +situation. They kidnaped the hero-symbol, the big cheese, and later +killed him. And the Inca and the Aztec cultures collapsed."</p> + +<p>Homer was scowling at him unhappily.</p> + +<p>Dave summed it up. "All we need is one fuzzy minded commie from the +Soviet Complex, or one super-dooper democrat who thinks that El Hassan +stands in the way of <i>freedom</i>, whatever that is, and bingo a couple +of bullets in your tummy and the El Hassan movement folds its tents +like the Arabs and takes a powder, as the old expression goes."</p> + +<p>"You have your point," Homer Crawford admitted. "Follow through, Dave. +Figure out some screening program."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Cliff came in. "Hey, Homer. Guess what old Jake has done."</p> + +<p>"Jake Armstrong?"</p> + +<p>"He's swung the Africa for Africans Association in New York over to +us. They've raised a million bucks. What'll we do with it? How can he +get anything to us?"</p> + +<p>"We'll have him plow it back into publicity and further fund raising +campaigns," Homer said. "That's the way it's done. You raise some +money for some cause and then spend it all on a bigger campaign to +raise still more money, and what you get from that one you plow into a +still bigger campaign."</p> + +<p>Cliff said, "Don't you <i>ever</i> get anything out of it?"</p> + +<p>Dave and Homer both laughed.</p> + +<p>Cliff said, "I've got some still better news."</p> + +<p>"Good news, we can use," Homer said.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="p1">T</span>he big Californian looked at him in pretended awe. "A poet no less," +he said.</p> + +<p>"Shut up," Homer said. "What's the news?"</p> + +<p>The fact of the matter was, he was becoming increasingly impatient of +the continual banter expected of him by Cliff and even the others. As +original members of the team, they expected an intimacy that he was +finding it increasingly difficult to deliver. Among other things, he +wished that Cliff, in particular, would mind his attitude when such +followers as Guémama were present. The El Hassan posture could be +maintained only in never to be compromised dignity.</p> + +<p>Bey had once compared him to Alexander, to Homer's amusement at the +time. But now he was beginning to sympathize with the position the +Macedonian leader had found himself in, betwixt the King-God conscious +Persians, and the rough and ready Companions who formed his bodyguard +and crack cavalry units. A King-God simply didn't banter with his +subordinates, not even his blood-kin.</p> + +<p>Cliff scowled at him now, at the sharpness of Homer's words, but he +made his report.</p> + +<p>"Our old pal, Sven Zetterberg. He's gone out on a limb. Because of the +great danger of this so-far localized fight spreading into world-wide +conflict—says old Sven—the Reunited Nations will not tolerate the +combat going into the air. He says that if <i>either</i> El Hassan or the +Arab Legion resort to use of aircraft, the Reunited Nations will send +in its air fleet."</p> + +<p>"Wow," Homer said. "All the aircraft we've got are a few slow-moving +heliocopters that Kenny brought up with him."</p> + +<p>Dave Moroka snapped his fingers in a gesture of elation. "That means +Zetterberg is throwing his weight to our side."</p> + +<p>Homer was on his feet. "Send for Kenny and Guémama and send a +heliocopter down to pick up Bey and rush him here. He shouldn't be +more than a day's march away. I wonder what Elmer is up to. No word at +all from him. At any rate, we want an immediate council of war. With +Arab Legion air cover eliminated, we can move in."</p> + +<p>Cliff said sourly, "It's still largely rifles against armored cars, +tanks, mobile artillery and even flame throwers."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="p1">A</span>ll the old hands were present. They stood about a map table, Homer +and Bey-ag-Akhamouk at one end, the rest clustered about. Isobel sat +in a chair to the rear, stenographer's pad on her knees.</p> + +<p>Bey was clipping out suggestions.</p> + +<p>"We have them now. Already our better trained men are heading up for +Temassinine to the north and Fort Charlet to the east. We'll lose men +but we'll knock out every water hole between here and Libya. We'll cut +every road, blow what few bridges there are."</p> + +<p>Jack Peters said worriedly, "But the important thing is Tamanrasset. +What good—"</p> + +<p>"We're cutting their supply line," Bey told him. "Can't you see? +Colonel Ibrahim and his motorized column will be isolated in +Tamanrasset. They won't be able to get supplies through without an air +lift and Sven Zetterberg's ultimatum kills that possibility. They're +blocked off."</p> + +<p>Jimmy Peters was as confused as his brother. "So what? to use the +Americanism. They have both food and water in abundance. They can hold +out indefinitely. Meanwhile, our forces are undisciplined irregulars. +We gain a thousand recruits a day. They come galloping in on +camel-back or in beat-up old vehicles, firing their hunting rifles +into the air. But we also lose a thousand a day. They get bored, or +hungry, and decide to go back to their flocks, or their jobs on the +new Sahara projects. At any rate, they drift off again. It looks to me +that, if Colonel Ibrahim can hold out another week or so, our forces +might melt away—all except the couple of hundred or so European and +American educated followers. And, cut down to that number, they'll +eliminate us in no time flat."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford was eying him in humor. "You're no fighting man, +Peters. Tell me, what is the single most fearsome enemy of an +ultra-mechanized soldier with the latest in military equipment and +super-firepower weapons?"</p> + +<p>Jimmy Peters was blank. "I suppose a similarly armed opponent."</p> + +<p>Homer smiled at him. "Rather, a man with a knife."</p> + +<p>The expressions of the Peters brothers showed resentment. "We weren't +jesting."</p> + +<p>"Neither was I," Homer rapped. He looked around at the rest, including +Bey and Kenny. "What happens to a modern mechanized army when it runs +out of gasoline? What happens to a water-cooled machine gun when there +is no water? What use is a howitzer when the target is a single man in +ten acres of cover? Gentlemen, have any of you ever studied the +tactics of Abd-el-Krim or, more recently still, Tito? Bey, I assume +you have."</p> + +<p>He had their attention.</p> + +<p>"During the Second War," Homer continued, "this Yugoslavian Tito tied +up two Nazi army corps with a handful of partisans—guerrillas. The +most modern army in the world, the German Panzers, tried to ferret him +out for five years, and couldn't. There are other examples. The +Chinese operating against the Japs in the same war. Or one of the +classic examples is Abd-el-Krim destroying two different Spanish +armies in the Moroccan Rif in the 1920s. His barefoot men, armed with +rifles, took on Primo de Rivera's modernized Spanish armies and +trounced them."</p> + +<p>Bey said, "Homer's right. Our only tactics are guerrilla ones."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford looked at Guémama, who had been standing in the +background, unfamiliar with the language these others spoke, but +holding his dignity. Crawford said, diplomatically, "And what sayest +thou, O chieftain of the Tuareg?"</p> + +<p>Guémama was gratified at the attention. He said in Tamaheq, "As all +men know, O El Hassan, we now outnumber by thrice the Arab <i>giaours</i> +may they burn in Gehennum. Therefore, let us rush in and kill them +all."</p> + +<p>Bey shuddered.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford nodded seriously. "Ai, Guémama, that would be the +valorous way of the Tuareg. But the heart of El Hassan forbids him to +sacrifice the lives of his people. Consequently, we shall use the +tactics of the desert jackal. Instruct those of your people who are +most cunning, to infiltrate Tamanrasset in the night. Let them not +carry arms for they may well be searched by the Arab <i>meleccha</i>."</p> + +<p>The Tuareg chieftain was intrigued. "And what shall they do in +Tamanrasset, El Hassan? Suddenly seize arms, one night, and rise up in +wrath against the Arab dogs and kill them all?"</p> + +<p>Homer was shaking his head. "They will address themselves to the +Haratin serfs and spread to them the message of El Hassan. They will +be told that in the world of El Hassan each man shall be free to seek +his own destiny to the extent his mind and abilities allow. And no man +shall be the less because he was born a serf, and no man the more +because he was born to wealth or power in the old days."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_011.jpg" width="300" height="928" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"Aiii," Guémama all but moaned. "But such a message—"</p> + +<p>"Is the message of El Hassan, as all men know," Homer Crawford said +flatly. He turned to Kenny Ballalou. "Kenny, take over this angle. We +want as many propagandists in that town as possible. It's already +choked with refugees, most of them not knowing what they're fleeing. +We might get recruits there, too. But mostly we want to appeal to the +sedentary natives in town. They've got to get the dreams, too. Promise +them schools, land ... I don't have to tell you."</p> + +<p>"Right," Kenny said.</p> + +<p>Isobel said, "Maybe I ought to get in on this, too. The women might do +a better job than men on this slant. It's going to take a lot to get a +Tuareg bedouin to sink to talking to a Haratin on an equal basis."</p> + +<p>Bey and Homer had bent back over the maps, but before they could get +back into the details of guerrilla warfare against Colonel Ibrahim and +his legionnaires, they were halted by a controversy from without.</p> + +<p>"What now?" Homer growled. "This camp is getting to be like a +three-ring circus."</p> + +<p>The entrance flap was pushed aside and three of Bey's Sudanese +tribesmen half escorted, half pushed a newcomer front and center.</p> + +<p>It was Fredric Ostrander, natty as usual, but now in khaki desert +wear. He was obviously in a rage at the three rifle-carrying nomads +who had him in charge.</p> + +<p>Bey spoke to the Teda warriors in their own tongue. Then to Homer in +Tamaheq, which he assumed the C.I.A. man didn't know, "They picked him +up in the desert in a hover-jeep. He was evidently looking for our +camp." He dismissed the three bedouin with a gesture.</p> + +<p>Ostrander was outraged. He snapped at Homer Crawford, "I demand an +explanation of this cavalier attack upon—"</p> + +<p>His face expressionless, Homer held up a hand to quiet the smaller +man. He looked at Jack Peters and raised his eyebrows. "<i>Kion li la +fremdul diras?</i>"</p> + +<p>Jack, serious as ever, replied in Esperanto, then turned to the +American C.I.A. man and said, "El Hassan has requested that I +translate for him. He speaks only the official language of North +Africa to foreign representatives. Undoubtedly, sir, you have proper +credentials?"</p> + +<p>Had Fredric Ostrander been of lighter complexion, his color would have +undoubtedly gone dark red.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Crawford," he snapped. "I'm in no mood for nonsense. The +State Department has sent me to your headquarters to make another +attempt to bring some sense home to you. As an American citizen, +owing alliance—"</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford spoke in Esperanto to Jack Peters who nodded seriously +and said to Ostrander, "El Hassan informs you he owes alliance only to +the people of North Africa whose chosen leader he is."</p> + +<p>Ostrander knew they were kidding him, but at the same time the stand +being taken was actuality. He glared at the Americans present whom he +knew, Bey, Isobel, Cliff and Kenny. He snapped, "Very well, but I +repeat what I told you when last we met. The State Department of the +United States of the Americas will not stand idly by and see this area +taken over by elements dominated by red subversives."</p> + +<p>"Holy Mackerel," Cliff growled, "are you still tooting that horn?"</p> + +<p>Dave Moroka said sarcastically, "It's an old wheeze. The definition of +a red subversive is anybody who doesn't see eye to eye with the United +States. They've been pulling the gag for decades. Remember Guatemala +and Cuba? Do anything that interferes with American business abroad +and the cry goes up, <i>he's an enemy of the free world!</i>"</p> + +<p>Ostrander spun on him, his eyes narrowing.</p> + +<p>Dave laughed. "The definition of members of the free world, of course, +being anybody who follows the American line. Anybody is free, Spanish +and Portuguese dictators, absolute monarchs in Arabia, Chinese +warlords, if they're on the American side."</p> + +<p>Ostrander snapped, "I don't believe we've met."</p> + +<p>Moroka made a sweeping bow. "I'm afraid we don't move in the same +circles. I've spent possibly a third of my life in prison—"</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly," Ostrander snorted.</p> + +<p>"... Put there by people such as yourself—in various +countries—because I was fighting for my own version of freedom."</p> + +<p>"Communism, undoubtedly!"</p> + +<p>Moroka said softly, "I'm a South African, sir. Both my parents were +killed in the 1960 riots. It seems that they had dark skins—even as +you and I—and weren't able to see why that should keep them from +<i>freedom</i>."</p> + +<p>Fredric Ostrander spun back to Homer Crawford. "I'm not here to +quibble with self-confessed malcontents. I've been sent to represent +the State Department, to report to them, and, above all, to do what I +can to prevent your activities from redounding to the further +advantage of the Soviet Complex. I assume you can assign me quarters."</p> + +<p>Straight-faced, Jack Peters translated this into Esperanto, and, +straight-faced, Homer answered in the same language.</p> + +<p>Jack turned back to the impatient C.I.A. man. "El Hassan welcomes the +representative of the United States of the Americas and hopes this +will be the first step toward diplomatic recognition between North +Africa and your great country. He has instructed me to find you +quarters, which, possibly you may have to share with delegations from +Common Europe or"—Peters cleared his throat—"the Soviet Complex. He +further suggests that it might be well, if you maintain communications +with your superiors, to have sent to you books on Esperanto, the +official language of North Africa."</p> + +<p>Dave Moroka put in, "By the way, we'll have to go through your things. +We can't allow any radio communication from El Hassan's camp, except +through official El Hassan channels—for obvious military reasons."</p> + +<p>Ostrander snorted, stared indignantly at Homer again, spun on his heel +and stalked from the tent. Jack Peters followed him but not before +tipping an uncharacteristic wink at Homer.</p> + +<p>When they were gone, Homer sighed and looked at Dave Moroka. "That +reminds me, how are our other delegations coming?"</p> + +<p>The South African grinned ruefully. "They're playing it cool. Waiting +to see what way to jump. Give El Hassan some real success, and they'll +probably jump at the chance to be first to recognize him. Especially +these Soviet Complex opportunists. They'd just love to suck you into +their camp."</p> + +<p>Isobel looked at him. "After that tearing down you gave poor Ostrander +about the United States, now you rip into the Soviet Complex. Just +where do you stand, Dave?"</p> + +<p>Dave shrugged her question off, as though there were more important +things. "I'm an El Hassan man," he said. "Let those two overgrown +powers handle their own troubles."</p> + +<p>Jimmy Peters spoke up for the first time since Ostrander entered the +tent. "You know," he said, seriously, "I'm beginning to wonder if the +world can afford nationalistic patriotism. Haven't we gone too far +along the road to think of ourselves any longer as Americans, or +Russians, or French, or West Indians, or whatever? Hasn't the human +race grown up beyond that point?"</p> + +<p>Kenny said mockingly, "What! Aren't you proud of being a West Indian, +and a loyal subject of Her Majesty?"</p> + +<p>Peters ignored his tone. "Why should I be proud of my country? It was +an accident of birth with which I had nothing to do, that made me a +West Indian, rather than a Canadian, a Chinese, a Norwegian, or +whatever. Intelligently, I should be proud only of things that I, +myself, have accomplished."</p> + +<p>Bey said, "If we can stop waxing philosophic for a while and get back +to how most efficiently to clobber these Arabs—"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The Hindu entered Kirill Menzhinsky's small office behind the Indian +souvenir shop in the Tangier Zocco Chico and said, "The operative +Anton is on the receiver."</p> + +<p>The agent superior of the <i>Chrezvychainaya Komissiya</i> for North Africa +looked up from his desk and grunted acceptance of the message. He came +to his feet and followed the other into a back room and took his place +before a mouthpiece and screen.</p> + +<p>The man whose party name was Anton nodded a greeting.</p> + +<p>Kirill Menzhinsky said, "It's about time I heard from you, Anton."</p> + +<p>"Yes. But the situation has been such that it was not easy to report."</p> + +<p>"And now?"</p> + +<p>"Briefly, I am at El Hassan's headquarters. You were correct. He is in +actuality Homer Crawford. The others you mentioned are also with him, +including the traitor Isobel Cunningham."</p> + +<p>The Soviet Complex's agent allowed his eyebrows to rise.</p> + +<p>Anton said flatly, "The dame has evidently renounced the party and now +holds high rank in Crawford's inner circle."</p> + +<p>"And you?"</p> + +<p>"I am rapidly becoming his right-hand man. I am his press secretary +and in charge of communications. Early in our acquaintanceship I was +able to engineer an attempted assassination. I was able to, ah, save +the life of El Hassan."</p> + +<p>The Russian's eyes narrowed. "The assassins? Is there any chance that +they might reveal your little trick?"</p> + +<p>Anton grimaced. "I am not a fool, Kirill. Both of them were killed in +the assassination attempt. El Hassan was most grateful."</p> + +<p>"I see. And how would you sum up the present situation?"</p> + +<p>"This area is swinging rapidly to El Hassan, but any sort of defeat +and undoubtedly his followers would melt away. The bedouin are too +volatile. Before he ever makes any real headway he will have to take +the major commercial and industrial cities such as Dakar, Kano, +Lagos, Accra, Freetown, Khartoum, and eventually, of course, Cairo, +Casablanca, Algiers and so forth."</p> + +<p>"And our friend El Hassan leans not at all in our direction?"</p> + +<p>The man the Party called Anton shook his head. "He leans in no +direction, except that which will unite and modernize North Africa. +Neither do his immediate followers. They're a well-knit group and it +seems unlikely that I could pry any of them away from him in case it +became desirable."</p> + +<p>"I see," Kirill Menzhinsky muttered. "I understand that a delegation +from Moscow has arrived in El Hassan's camp. Have you contacted them?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. My orders were to rise in the El Hassan hierarchy and +await further orders. None of my current, ah, colleagues have any +suggestion that I am identified with the Party. Which reminds me, an +American C.I.A. man, Fredric Ostrander, has shown up. The fool seems +to be under the impression that El Hassan is a Party tool."</p> + +<p>"I know this Ostrander. Don't underestimate him, Anton. He's an +extremely competent operative in the clutch, as the Americans call +it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. But nevertheless, there is no indication that the El Hassan +movement leans either to East or West, nor do I see any signs that it +is apt to in the future."</p> + +<p>The Russian was scowling. "I see. Then perhaps it will be necessary +for us to do something to topple our El Hassan before he becomes much +stronger, and to find another to unite North Africa."</p> + +<p>Anton frowned in his turn. "I don't know. This man Crawford—and his +followers, for that matter—are motivated by high ideals. As you have +said, North Africa is not ready for our socio-economic system. Men of +the caliber of Homer Crawford could bring it into the modern age +perhaps more quickly than another."</p> + +<p>Menzhinsky chuckled. "Don't worry about it, Anton. Such matters of +policy will be decided by others than you, or even me. Keep in touch +with me more often, in the future, Anton."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Comrade." His face faded from the screen.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="p1">T</span>amanrasset lies at an altitude of approximately 4,600 feet, about +average for the Ahaggar plateau. Around it, such peaks as the Tahat +reach 9,600 feet above sea level. The country is rugged, jagged, bleak +beyond belief. With the possible exception of Southern Afghanistan in +the Khyber area, there is no place in the world more suited for +guerrilla warfare, less suited for the proper utilization of modern +armor, particularly when the latter is forced to work without air +cover.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford, equipped with an old-style telescope, was +spread-eagled on top a rock outcropping, his only companion Isobel +Cunningham. Directly before him, possibly two miles in distance, was +the desert city of Tamanrasset, to the right, a kilometer or so, Amsel +where palatable water was to be found at eighteen meters depth.</p> + +<p>"Our friend, the colonel, is up to something," he grumbled.</p> + +<p>She had a pair of binoculars, of considerably less power than his +glass.</p> + +<p>"It looks as though Guémama's boys are on the run," she said.</p> + +<p>"As per orders. The primary theory of partisan warfare is not to get +killed. The guerrilla never stands and fights. If the regular forces +he opposes can bring him to bay, they've got him." He interrupted +himself to clip out, "Look at that tank, darling! There on the left!"</p> + +<p>Isobel tightened, looked at him quickly from the side of her eyes. No. +He'd said it inadvertently, his mind concentrated on the fighting men +below. She had often wondered where she stood with Homer Crawford the +man, as opposed to El Hassan the idealist. The tip of her tongue +licked the side of her mouth, as she surreptitiously took him in. But +Crawford the man would have to wait, there was no time, no time.</p> + +<p>Isobel swung her glasses. "The one starting to go in a circle? There, +it stopped."</p> + +<p>"One of the snipers got its commander," Homer said. "You can't fight a +tank without the commander's head being up through the hatch. That's a +popular fallacy. You can't see well enough to fight your tank unless +you've got your head up. And that's suicide when you're against +guerrillas. The colonel ought to send his infantry out first."</p> + +<p>Isobel said, "What did you mean when you said that he's up to +something?"</p> + +<p>Homer's eye was still glued to the eyepiece of his glass. "He's leaving +his entrenchments and sending his vehicles out to capture our ... our +strong points."</p> + +<p>"You mean our water, don't you?"</p> + +<p>Bey came snaking up to them on his belly. He came abreast of Homer and +brought forth his own binoculars. He watched for a moment and then +muttered a curse under his breath.</p> + +<p>"Guémama better start pulling back those men more quickly," he said.</p> + +<p>"He will. He's a good man," Homer told him. "What's up?"</p> + +<p>"Evidently, Colonel Ibrahim has decided to come out of retirement. +He's sent small motorized elements to Effok, In Fedjeg, Otoul and even +to Tahifet."</p> + +<p>"And—?"</p> + +<p>"And has taken them all, of course. Our men fall back, fighting a +stubborn rear-guard action, taking as few casualties as possible."</p> + +<p>"I don't get it," Homer bit out. "He's using up his fuel and +ammunition and losing more men than we are. Certainly he can't figure, +with the thousand odd troops he has, to be able to take and hold +enough of the oases and water holes in this vicinity to push us out +completely."</p> + +<p>Bey said, "What worries me is the possibility that he knows something +we don't. That he's figuring on being relieved or has a new source of +fuel, ammunition and men on tap."</p> + +<p>"The roads are cut. Our men hold every source of water from here to +Libya and the Reunited Nations has put thumbs down on aircraft which +eliminates an air lift."</p> + +<p>"Yeah," Bey said, unhappily.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="p1">T</span>hat evening, following the day's last meal, Cliff came into the +headquarters tent grinning, broadly. "Hey, guess what we've +liberated."</p> + +<p>"A bottle of Scotch?" Kenny said hopefully.</p> + +<p>"A king-size portable radio transmitter. Ralph Sandell knew about it. +The Sahara Afforestation Project people were going to use it to +propagandize the tribesmen into coming in and taking jobs in the new +oases."</p> + +<p>Dave Moroka, who'd been censoring press releases, shook his head. +"That's why we need an El Hassan in this country," he complained. +"They put a couple of million dollars into a radio transmitter, never +asking themselves how many of the bedouin own radios."</p> + +<p>Jack Peters said, "Wait a moment, you chaps. Didn't Bey capture a +couple of Arab Legion radio technicians today?"</p> + +<p>"They defected to us," Homer Crawford said, looking up from an +improvised desk where he was poring over some supply papers with +Isobel. "What did you have in mind, Jack?"</p> + +<p>"There are radios in Tamanrasset. In fact, there's probably a radio in +every one of those military vehicles of Ibrahim's. Why can't we +blanket these Arab Union chaps with El Hassan propaganda? Quite a few +of them are from Libya, Tunisia and Egypt. In short, they're Africans +and susceptible to El Hassan's dream."</p> + +<p>"Good man. Take over the details, Jack," Homer said. He went back to +his work with Isobel.</p> + +<p>Jimmy Peters entered with some papers in hand. He said, seriously, +"The temperature is rising in the Reunited Nations—and everywhere +else, for that matter. Damascus and Cairo have been getting +increasingly belligerent. Homer, it looks as though the Arab Union is +getting ready to go out on a limb. Weeks have passed since Colonel +Ibrahim first took Tamanrasset and the Reunited Nations, the United +States, the Soviet Complex and all others interested in North Africa, +have failed to do anything. Everybody, evidently, afraid of +precipitating something that couldn't be ended."</p> + +<p>All eyes went to Homer Crawford who ran a black hand back over his +hair in weariness. "I know," he said. "Something is about to blow. +Dave has sent some of his best men into Tamanrasset to pick up gossip +in the souks. Morale was dragging bottom among the legionnaires just a +couple of days ago. Now they seem to have a new lease."</p> + +<p>"In spite of the sabotage our people have been committing?" Isobel +said.</p> + +<p>"That's falling off somewhat," Cliff said. "At first our more +enthusiastic followers were able to pull everything from heaving +Molotov Cocktails into tanks, to pouring sugar in hover-jeep gas +tanks, but the legionnaires have both smartened up and gotten very +tough."</p> + +<p>"Good," Dave Moroka said now.</p> + +<p>They looked at him.</p> + +<p>"Atrocities," he said. "In order to guard against sabotage, the +legionnaires will be taking measures that will antagonize the people +in Tamanrasset. They'll shoot a couple of teenage kids, or something, +then they'll have a city-wide mess on their hands."</p> + +<p>Isobel said unhappily, "It seems a nasty way to win a war."</p> + +<p>Dave grunted his contempt of her opinion. "There is no way of winning +a war other than a nasty one."</p> + +<p>Bey came in, yawning hugely. His energy was inconceivable to the +others. So far as was known, he hadn't slept, other than sitting erect +in a moving vehicle, for the past four days. He said to Homer, "Fred +Ostrander has been bending my ear for the past hour or so. Do you want +to talk to him?"</p> + +<p>"About what?" Homer said.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. He has a lot of questions. I think he's beginning to +suspect—just <i>suspect</i>, understand—that possibly the whole bunch of +us aren't receiving our daily instructions from either Moscow or +Peking."</p> + +<p>Dave and Cliff both laughed.</p> + +<p>Homer sighed and said, "Show him in. He's the only thing we have in +the way of a contact with the United States of the Americas and sooner +or later we're going to have to make our peace with both them and the +Soviet Complex. In fact, what we're probably going to have to do is +play one against the other, getting grants, loans, economic +assistance—"</p> + +<p>"Technicians, teachers, arms," Bey continued the list.</p> + +<p>Kenny Ballalou looked at him and snorted. "Arms! If there's anything +this part of the world doesn't need it's more arms. In fact, that goes +for the rest of the world, too. In the old days when the great nations +were first beginning to attempt to line up the neutrals they sent aid +to such countries by the billions—and most of it in arms. How +ridiculous can you get? Putting arms in the hands of most of the +governments of that time was like handing a loaded pistol to an +idiot."</p> + +<p>Bey hung his head in mock humility. "I bow before your wisdom," he +said. He left the room to get Ostrander.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The C.I.A. man had lost a fraction of his belligerence, but none of +his arrogance and natty appearance. Homer wondered vaguely how the +other managed to remain so spruce in the inadequate desert camp.</p> + +<p>Jack Peters said, "What did you wish to ask El Hassan? I will +translate."</p> + +<p>"Never mind that, Jack," Homer said. "We'll get tougher about using +our official language when we've gone a little further in building +our new government." He said to Ostrander, "What can I do for you? +Obviously, my time, is limited."</p> + +<p>Fredric Ostrander said, "I've been gathering material for reports to +my superiors. I've been doing a good deal of questioning, and, +frankly, even prying around."</p> + +<p>Cliff grunted.</p> + +<p>Ostrander went on. "I've also read the various press releases, +manifestoes and so forth that your assistants have been compiling."</p> + +<p>"We know," Homer said. "We haven't put any obstacles in your way. We +haven't any particular secrets, Mr. Ostrander."</p> + +<p>"You disguise the fact that you are an American," the C.I.A. man said +accusingly.</p> + +<p>Homer said slowly, "Only because El Hassan <i>is not</i> an American, Mr. +Ostrander. He is an African with African solutions to African +problems. That is what he must be if he is to accomplish his task."</p> + +<p>Ostrander seemed to switch subjects. "See here, Crawford, the State +Department is not completely opposed to the goal of uniting North +Africa. It would solve many problems, both African and international."</p> + +<p>Kenny Ballalou laughed softly. "You mean, you're on our side?"</p> + +<p>Ostrander turned to him, for once not incensed at being needled. +"Possibly more than you'd think," he rapped. He turned back again to +Homer Crawford. "The question becomes, why do you think that <i>you</i> are +the man for the job? Who gave <i>you</i> the go-ahead?"</p> + +<p>Bey, who had settled down into a folding camp chair, now came to his +feet, his tired face angry.</p> + +<p>But Homer waved him to silence. "Hold it," he said. Then to Ostrander. +"It doesn't work that way. It's not something you decide to do because +you're thirsty for power, or greedy for money. You're pushed into it. +Do you think Washington, a retired Virginian planter wrapped up in his +estate and his family, wanted to spend years leading the revolutionary +armies through the wilderness that was America in those days? He was +thrust into the job, there was no one else more competent to take it. +Men make the times, Ostrander, but the times also make the men. Look +at Lenin and Trotsky. Three months before the October Revolution, +Lenin wrote that he never expected to see in his lifetime the +Bolsheviks come to power. Within those months he was at the head of +government and Trotsky, a former bookworm who had never fired a gun in +his life, was head of the Red Army and being proclaimed a military +genius."</p> + +<p>Ostrander was scowling at him, but his face was thoughtful.</p> + +<p>Homer said quietly, "It's not always an easy thing, to have power thrust +into your hands. Not always a desirable thing." His voice went quieter +still. "Only a short time ago it led me to the necessity of ... +killing ... my best friend."</p> + +<p>"And mine," Isobel said softly, almost under her breath.</p> + +<p>Dave Moroka said, "Abe Baker," before he caught himself.</p> + +<p>Kenny Ballalou looked at him strangely. "Did you know Abe?"</p> + +<p>The South African recovered. "I've heard several of you mention him +from time to time. He was a commie, wasn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Homer said without inflection. "And a man. He saved my life on +more than one occasion. As long as we worked together with only Africa +in mind, there was no conflict. But Abe had a further, and, to him, +greater alliance."</p> + +<p>He turned his attention back to the C.I.A. man. "A man does what he +must do," he finished simply. "I did not ask to become El Hassan."</p> + +<p>Ostrander said, "Your motivation is possibly beside the point. The +thing is that the battle for men's minds continues and your program, +eventually, must align with the West."</p> + +<p>"And get clobbered in the stampeding around between the two great +powers," Kenny said dryly.</p> + +<p>"You've got to take your stand," Ostrander said. "I'd rather die under +the neutron bomb, than spend the rest of my life on my knees under a +Soviet Complex government. Wouldn't you?" His eyes went from one of +them to the other, defiantly.</p> + +<p>Homer said slowly. "No, even though that was the only alternative, +which is unlikely. Not if it meant finishing off the whole human race +at the same time." He shook his head. "If it were only me, it might be +different. But if it was a matter of nuclear war the whole race might +well end. Given such circumstances, I'd be proud to remain on my +knees the rest of my life. You see, Ostrander, you make the mistake of +thinking the Soviet socio-economic system is a permanent thing. It +isn't. It's changing daily, even as our own socio-economic system is. +Even if the Soviet Complex were to dominate the whole world, it would +be but a temporary phase in man's history. Their regime, in its time, +right or wrong, will go under in man's march to whatever his destiny +might be. Some day it will be only a memory, and so will the +socio-economic systems of the West. No institutions are less permanent +than politico-economic ones."</p> + +<p>"I don't agree with you," Ostrander snapped.</p> + +<p>"Obviously," Homer shrugged. "However, this is another problem. El +Hassan deals with North Africa. The other problems you bring up we +admit, but at this stage are not dealing with them. Our dream is in +Africa. Perhaps the Africans will be forced to taking other stands, to +dreaming new dreams, twenty or thirty years from now. When that time +comes, I assume the new problems will be faced. By that time there +will probably be no need for El Hassan."</p> + +<p>Ostrander looked at him and bit his lip in thought.</p> + +<p>It came to him now that he had never won in his contests with Homer +Crawford, and that he would probably never win. No matter how strong +his convictions, in the presence of the other man, something went out +of him. There was strength in Crawford that must be experienced to be +understood. When he talked, he held you, and your own opinions became +nothing—stupidities on your lips. He had a dream, and in conversation +with him, all other things dropped away and nothing was of importance +but that dream. A dream? Possibly <i>disease</i> was the better word. And +so highly contagious.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_012.jpg" width="600" height="280" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>While they talked, an aide had entered and handed a report to +Bey-ag-Akhamouk. He read it and closed his eyes in weariness.</p> + +<p>"What's up, Bey," Homer asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Colonel Ibrahim has stepped up his attacks in all +directions. At least two thirds of his force is on the offensive. It +doesn't make much sense. But it must make sense to <i>him</i>, or he +wouldn't be doing it."</p> + +<p>Ostrander said, and to everyone's surprise there seemed to be an +element of worry in his voice too, "I know Colonel Midan Ibrahim, met +him in Cairo and in Baghdad on various occasions. He's considered one +of the best men in the Arab Legion. He doesn't make military +blunders."</p> + +<p>Bey said, "Come on, Kenny. Let's round up Guémama and take a look at +the front." He led the way from the tent.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="p1">T</span>here was a guard posted before the tent which doubled as press and +communications center, and the private quarters of David Moroka.</p> + +<p>The figure that approached timidly was garbed in the traditional +clothing of the young women of the Tégéhé Mellet tribe of the Tuareg +and bore an <i>imzad</i> in her left hand, while her right held a corner of +her gandoura over her face.</p> + +<p>The guard, of the Kel Rela tribe, eyed the one-stringed violin with +its string of hair and sounding box made of half a gourd covered with +a thin membrane of skin, and grinned. A Tuareg maid was accustomed to +sing and to make the high whining tones of desert music on the <i>imzad</i> +before submitting to her lover's embrace. <i>Wallahi!</i> but these women +of the Tégéhé Mellet were shameless.</p> + +<p>"Where do you go?" he said gruffly. "El Hassan's vizier has ordered +that he is occupied and none should approach."</p> + +<p>"He awaits me," she wavered. There was <i>kohl</i> about her eyes, and +indigo at the corners of her mouth. "We met at the <i>tendi</i> last night +and he bid me come to his tent. It is for me he waits."</p> + +<p><i>Wallahi!</i> but his leader had taste, the sentry decided.</p> + +<p>"Pass," he said gruffly. Even a vizier of such importance as this one +must need solace at times, he decided philosophically.</p> + +<p>She slipped past silently to the tent entrance where the Tuareg guard +noticed she paused for a long moment before entering. He grinned into +his teguelmoust. Aiii, the little bird was timid before the hawk.</p> + +<p>She stood for a moment listening, and then slipped inside, dropping +the desert musical instrument to the ground. Dave Moroka's back was to +her and even as she entered he flicked off the switch of the +video-radio into which he had been speaking and scowled at it.</p> + +<p>When he stood and began to turn, she covered him with the small pocket +pistol. She had an ease in handling it which denoted competence.</p> + +<p>His eyebrows went up, but he remained silent, waiting for her gambit.</p> + +<p>Isobel said evenly, "You're a Party member, aren't you, Dave?"</p> + +<p>"Why do you say that?"</p> + +<p>She nodded infinitesimally to the set. "You were reporting just now. I +heard enough just as I came in."</p> + +<p>He took in her disguise. "My guard isn't as efficient as I had +thought," Dave said wryly.</p> + +<p>Isobel said, "You knew Abe Baker, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>He looked at her, expressionlessly.</p> + +<p>She said, "I already knew you belonged to the Party, Dave. No matter +how competent an agent, it's something difficult to hide from any +other long-time member. There's a terminology you use—such as calling +it the Soviet Union, rather than Russia. No commie ever says Russia, +it's always <i>the Soviet Union</i>. You can tell, just as a Roman Catholic +can tell a person raised in the Church, even though the other has +dropped away, or even as one Jew can tell another. Yes, I've known +you were a Party member for some time, Dave."</p> + +<p>"And?" the South African said.</p> + +<p>"Why are you here?"</p> + +<p>Dave Moroka said, "For the same reason you are, to further the El +Hassan dream, the uniting and modernization of the continent of my +racial heritage."</p> + +<p>"But you are still a Party member and still report to your superiors."</p> + +<p>Dave Moroka looked at the tiny gun she held in her hand.</p> + +<p>"Don't try it," she said. "I have seen you in action, Dave. I have +never seen a man move so ruthlessly fast ... but don't try it."</p> + +<p>"No reason to," he bit out. "Come on, let's go see Homer."</p> + +<p>She was slightly taken aback, but not enough to release her control +for even a split second. "Lead the way," she said.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Even at this time of evening, the headquarters tent was brightly lit +and most of the immediate El Hassan staff still at work. Homer +Crawford looked up as they entered.</p> + +<p>Cliff Jackson saw the gun first and said, "Holy Mackerel, Isobel."</p> + +<p>Fredric Ostrander was sitting to one side in discussion with the sober +faced Jack Peters. He took in the gun and slowly came to his feet, +obviously expecting climax.</p> + +<p>Isobel said, "Dave's taking over control of communications had method. +I just found him reporting to what must have been a superior ... in +the Party."</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford looked from the South African to Isobel, then back to +Dave again, without speaking. His eyes were questioning.</p> + +<p>Dave said, his voice sharp. "I haven't time for details now. Isobel's +right. I was a Party member."</p> + +<p>"Was?" Ostrander chuckled. "That's the understatement of the year. I +hadn't got around to revealing the fact as yet, but our friend Dave is +the notorious Anton, one of the Soviet Complex's most competent +hatchetmen."</p> + +<p>Dave looked at him only briefly. "Was," he reiterated. He turned his +attention to Homer and to Bey, who was staring tired dismay at this +new addition to the load.</p> + +<p>Homer still held his peace, waiting for the other to go on.</p> + +<p>"I found out tonight why Colonel Ibrahim is attacking, instead of +pulling in his horns as reason would dictate." Dave paused for +emphasis. "The Soviet Complex has thrown its weight, in this matter at +least, on the side of the Arab Union. They have insisted that Sven +Zetterberg be dismissed as head of the Sahara Division of the African +Development Project and that his threat to use Reunited Nations +aircraft if the local fighting spreads to the air, be repudiated."</p> + +<p>Kenny blurted, "Good grief ... that means—"</p> + +<p>Dave looked around at them, one by one. "It means," he said, "that the +Arab Legion is going to be reinforced tomorrow morning by a full +regiment of paratroopers."</p> + +<p>"Holy Mackerel," Cliff groaned. "We've had it. Another regiment of +crack troops in Tamanrasset and we'll <i>never</i> take the town."</p> + +<p>Dave shook his head. "That's not the big thing. The paratroopers +aren't going to drop in Tamanrasset. They're going to hit every oasis, +every water hole, in a circumference of two hundred miles."</p> + +<p>There was an empty silence.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford said finally, evenly, "In the expectation that every +follower of El Hassan in the Sahara will either surrender or die of +thirst, eh?" He didn't seem sufficiently impressed by the threatening +disaster. He looked at Dave questioningly. "Why do you bother to tell +us, Dave, if you're on the other side?"</p> + +<p>Dave grunted sour amusement. "Because I've just become a full member +of the team. I resigned from the Party tonight."</p> + +<p>"Brother," Bey said, "you sure pick a helluva time to join up." He +obviously was expressing the opinions of the majority.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford came to his feet and looked around at them. "All +right," he said. "A new complication. Let's face up to it. There's +always an answer. We're in the clutch, let's fight our way out."</p> + +<p>Largely, they stared at him, but he ignored their dismay. He looked +from one to the other. "We need some ideas. Let's kick it around. +Isobel, Cliff, Jack, Kenny—?" His eyes went from one to the other. +Obviously his own mind was churning.</p> + +<p>They shook their heads dumbly.</p> + +<p>Kenny said, "Ideas! We've had it, Homer!"</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford spun on him and now the force they all knew was +emanating from him. He laughed his scorn. "A month ago we were half a +dozen fugitives. Now we're an army besieging a city. And you say we've +had it? Listen, Kenny, if we have to we'll go back to being half a +dozen fugitives again—those of us that are left. But the dream goes +on! However, we're not going to have to. We're too near victory in +this stage of the operation to sit down on the job because of a +threatened reverse. Now then, let's kick it around. Jimmy! Dave! +Kenny! Ostrander!"</p> + +<p>Fredric Ostrander raised his eyebrows only slightly at being included +in their number.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="p1">B</span>ey, for once, was seemingly too exhausted to be brought to new +enthusiasm. He tossed a detail map of Tamanrasset to the table. "And +I'd just worked out a bang-up scheme for infiltrating into town, +joining up with our adherents there, and seizing it while most of +Ibrahim's men were out in the desert, trying to capture our nearer +water holes."</p> + +<p>Homer snapped, "It sounds like it still might have possibilities."</p> + +<p>Ostrander looked down at the map, his face very tight. "How long would +it take?"</p> + +<p>Bey scowled at him, defeat dulling his mind. "What?"</p> + +<p>"How long do you figure it would take to infiltrate Tamanrasset and +capture it? Behind Ibrahim's back, so to speak."</p> + +<p>Bey grunted. "A couple of hours in the early morning. I had a +beautiful picture of the colonel's armor out in the desert, cut off +from its petroleum supplies and ammunition dump while we held the +town. Some of our men, the former veterans of the French West African +forces, could have even operated the antitank guns he has mounted at +Fort Laperrine."</p> + +<p>The C.I.A. man's mouth worked.</p> + +<p>Homer Crawford's eyes pierced him.</p> + +<p>Ostrander walked over to the radio before which Kenny Ballalou sat. +"See if you can raise Colonel Ibrahim for me."</p> + +<p>Kenny scowled at him. "Why?"</p> + +<p>"Do it."</p> + +<p>Kenny looked at Homer Crawford.</p> + +<p>Homer said, "O.K. Do it."</p> + +<p>Kenny shrugged and turned to the set. While the others watched, +Crawford's face alert, his eyes narrowed, the rest of them dull in +apathy, the face of Colonel Ibrahim finally faded in on the screen.</p> + +<p>Fredric Ostrander took his place at the instrument. He nodded, +formally. "Greetings, Colonel, it seems a long time since last we met +in Amman."</p> + +<p>The Arab Legion officer smiled politely. "I had heard that you +represented the State Department in this area, Mr. Ostrander, and have +been somewhat surprised that you failed to make Tamanrasset your +headquarters. It would have been pleasant to have renewed old +friendship."</p> + +<p>Ostrander cleared his throat. "I am afraid that would have been +difficult, Colonel, particularly in view of the stand of my government +at this time."</p> + +<p>On the screen, the other's eyebrows went up.</p> + +<p>Ostrander said evenly, "Colonel, we have just been informed that a +regiment of paratroopers has been put at your disposal and that they +plan to land at various points in the Sahara in the morning."</p> + +<p>The colonel said stiffly, "This is military information which I am not +free to discuss, Mr. Ostrander."</p> + +<p>Frederic Ostrander went on, his voice still even. "We have further +been informed that the Reunited Nations has withdrawn its ban on +aircraft, which would seem to free your paratroop carrying planes."</p> + +<p>The colonel remained silent, waiting for the bombshell. It was obvious +that he expected a bombshell.</p> + +<p>Ostrander said, "As representative of the State Department I warn you +that if these paratroop carrying planes take off tomorrow morning, the +Seventh Airfleet of the United States of the Americas will enter the +conflict on the side of El Hassan. Good evening, Colonel."</p> + +<p>The C.I.A. man reached out and flicked the switch that killed the set. +Then he took the snowy white handkerchief from the breast pocket of +his jacket and wiped his mouth.</p> + +<p>Isobel said, "Heavens to Betsy."</p> + +<p>Kenny said indignantly, "Good grief, you fool, it won't take more than +hours for your superiors to repudiate you. Then what happens?"</p> + +<p>"By then, I assume, the battle will be over and Tamanrasset in El +Hassan's hands. The Arab Union will then think twice before committing +their paratroopers, particularly with captured armor in El Hassan's +hands."</p> + +<p>"And your name will be mud," Kenny blurted.</p> + +<p>Ostrander looked at Homer Crawford. "Gentlemen, you must remember that +I, too, am an African. I had thought that perhaps there would be a +position for me on El Hassan's staff."</p> + +<p>Crawford reached for the Tommy-Noiseless that leaned up against the +improvised desk at which he worked. He said, "Let's get moving, Bey. +We haven't much time. We're going to have to be able to announce its +capture <i>from</i> Tamanrasset in a couple of hours."</p> + +<p>"Not you," Bey said, grabbing up his own weapon and motioning with his +head for Kenny and Cliff to come along. "You're El Hassan and can't be +risked."</p> + +<p>"I'm coming," Homer said flatly. "It's about time El Hassan began +taking some of the same risks his followers seem to be willing to +face. Besides, the men will fight better with me out in front. Got a +gun, Fred?"</p> + +<p>Ostrander said, "No. Where am I issued one?"</p> + +<p>"I'll show you," Homer said, stuffing extra clips in his bush jacket +pockets. "Come on, Dave."</p> + +<p>The whole group began heading for the open air, Bey already yelling +orders.</p> + +<p>Fredric Ostrander looked at Dave Moroka. "Strange bedfellows," he +said.</p> + +<p>Moroka grinned wryly. "My long view hasn't changed," he said. "It's +just that this African matter takes precedence right now."</p> + +<p>"Nor mine, of course," Ostrander said. He cleared his throat. +"However, I hope you last out the night. El Hassan needs strong men."</p> + +<p>"Same to you," Moroka said gruffly. "Let's get going, or the fight +will be over while we hand each other flowers."</p> + + +<h2><i>Epilogue</i></h2> + +<p>El Hassan stood in the smoking, war-wasted ruin of Fort Laperine, his +mind empty. The body of Jack Peters was ten feet to his left, burned +beyond recognition and crumpled over a flame thrower which he'd +eliminated in the last few moments of the fighting. Had he let his +eyes go out the gun port before which he stood, it might have been +possible for El Hassan to have picked out the bodies of David Moroka +and Fredric Ostrander amidst those of the several hundred Haratin +serfs who had swarmed out of the souk area at the crucial moment and +stormed the half manned fort—unarmed save for knives and farm +implements.</p> + +<p>To his right, Dr. Warren Harding Smythe supervised two Tuareg who were +carrying off the broken body of Kenny Ballalou; there was still faint +life in it.</p> + +<p>The doctor looked at him. "You are satisfied, I assume?"</p> + +<p>El Hassan failed to hear him.</p> + +<p>Smythe turned and stomped off, following his impressed nurses.</p> + +<p>In the distance, Bey-ag-Akhamouk called hoarse orders from an +over-strained throat, placing guns for a counterattack that would +never come. The Arab Legion was broken and Colonel Ibrahim a prisoner. +Large numbers of the survivors were defecting to the banner of El +Hassan.</p> + +<p>He threw his empty Tommy-Noiseless to the side. All he wanted now was +sleep, the surcease of a few hours of oblivion.</p> + +<p>Isobel, her face wan from the horror of the agony of the combat whose +result was everywhere visible, was picking her way through the +wreckage with Cliff Jackson.</p> + +<p>El Hassan looked at her absently. Whatever message she bore held +little interest to him.</p> + +<p>Cliff said, "India has recognized El Hassan as legal head of state of +all North Africa. It is expected that Australia will follow before the +week is out."</p> + +<p>El Hassan nodded. For the time, not caring.</p> + +<p>Isobel said, "We have other word. It came by messenger." She closed +her eyes in pain and handed him a small box.</p> + +<p>He opened it and recognized the ring on the enclosed finger. He looked +up at them.</p> + +<p>Cliff Jackson growled low in his throat. "Elmer Allen. He's been +captured by a leader of the Ouled Touameur clan of the Ouled Allouch +tribe. You know this Abd-el-Kader?"</p> + +<p>El Hassan was staring down at the finger, his mind slowly clearing of +its fatigue. "He belongs to the Berazga division of the Chaambra +confederation. I had a run-in with him a few months ago and had him +jailed. He's nothing but a desert bandit on the make."</p> + +<p>Cliff said, "He's escaped, has thrown his weight behind the Arab +Union, proclaimed himself the Mahdi and is uniting Algeria and parts +of Morocco and Tunisia like a wildfire. The marabouts and Shorfa are +backing him."</p> + +<p>"Proclaimed himself the Mahdi?" Isobel said in question.</p> + +<p>El Hassan turned to the girl and took a deep breath. "The original +Mahdi was the holiest prophet since Mohammed and according to the more +superstitious Moslems, he's still alive. According to Islamic +tradition, he periodically shows up again in the desert and makes +various predictions. When he does, it almost always winds up with a +jehad, a holy war. Don't you remember in history the anti-British +Mahdi at Khartoum, the killing of Chinese Gordon and so forth? That +Mahdi was the son of a Dongola carpenter and he managed to conquer two +million square miles in two years."</p> + +<p>"But, what has this got to do with this Abd-el-Kader?"</p> + +<p>"He's evidently proclaimed himself sort of a reincarnation of the +original Mahdi. He's out to do the same thing we are—to unite North +Africa. But in his case he doesn't exactly have the same dream and +he's working under the green ensign of the Pan-Islamic Arab Union."</p> + +<p>"And has Elmer Allen captive."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he has Elmer." El Hassan's tone of voice turned sharp. "Cliff, +go get Bey. Tell him we're forming a flying column and heading north."</p> + +<p>Cliff was gone. El Hassan turned back to the girl. "You know, Isobel," +he said softly, slowly, "in history there is no happy ending, ever. +There is no ending at all. It goes from one crisis to another, but +there is no ending."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Border, Breed Nor Birth, by Dallas McCord Reynolds + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BORDER, BREED NOR BIRTH *** + +***** This file should be named 30639-h.htm or 30639-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/6/3/30639/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Border, Breed Nor Birth + +Author: Dallas McCord Reynolds + +Illustrator: Schoenherr + +Release Date: December 9, 2009 [EBook #30639] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BORDER, BREED NOR BIRTH *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction July 1962. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. + + + + Border, Breed nor Birth + + + + Part 1 of Two. Kipling said those things didn't count when + two strong men stood face to face. But ... do they count + when two strong ideologies stand face to face...? + + + + by Mack Reynolds + + + Illustrated by Schoenherr + + * * * * * + + + + +I + + +El Hassan, would-be tyrant of all North Africa, was on the run. + +His followers at this point numbered six, one of whom was a wisp of a +twenty-four year old girl. Arrayed against him and his dream, he knew, +was the combined power of the world in the form of the Reunited +Nations, and, in addition, such individual powers as the United States +of the Americas, the Soviet Complex, Common Europe, the French +Community, the British Commonwealth and the Arab Union, working both +together and unilaterally. + +Immediate survival depended upon getting into the Great Erg of the +Sahara where even the greatest powers the world had ever developed +would have their work cut out locating El Hassan and his people. + + * * * * * + +Bey-ag-Akhamouk who was riding next to Elmer Allen in the lead air +cushion hover-lorry, held a hand high. Both of the solar powered +desert vehicles ground to a halt. + +Homer Crawford vaulted out of the seat of the second lorry before it +had settled to the sand. "What's up, Bey?" he called. + +Bey pointed to the south and west. They were in the vicinity of +Tessalit, in what was once known as French Sudan, and immediately to +the south of Algeria. They were deliberately avoiding what little +existed in this area in the way of trails, the Tanezrouft route which +crossed the Sahara from Colomb-Bechar to Gao, on the Niger, was some +fifty miles to the west. + +Homer Crawford stared up into the sky in the direction Bey pointed and +his face went wan. + +The others were piling out of the vehicles. + +"What is it?" Isobel Cunningham said, squinting and trying to catch +what the others had already spotted. + +"Aircraft," Bey growled. "A rocket-plane." + +"Which means the military in this part of the world," Homer said. + +The rest of them looked to him for instructions, but Bey suddenly took +over. He said to Homer, "You better get on over beneath that +outcropping of rock. The rest of us will handle this." + +Homer looked at him. + +Bey said, flatly, "If one of the rest of us gets it, or even if all of +us do, the El Hassan movement goes on. But if something happens to +you, the movement dies. We've already taken our stand and too much is +at stake to risk your life." + +Homer Crawford opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. He reached +inside the solar-powered lorry and fetched forth a Tommy-Noiseless and +started for the rock outcropping at a trot. Having made his decision, +he wasn't going to cramp Bey-ag-Akhamouk's style with needless +palaver. + +Isobel Cunningham, Cliff Jackson, Elmer Allen and Kenny Ballalou +gathered around the tall, American educated Tuareg. + +"What's the plan?" Elmer said. Either he or Kenny Ballalou could have +taken over as competently, but they were as capable of taking orders +as giving them, a desirable trait in fighting men. + +Bey was still staring at the oncoming speck. He growled, "We can't +even hope he hasn't seen the pillars of sand and dust these vehicles +throw up. He's spotted us all right. And we've got to figure he's +looking for us, even though we can hope he's not." + +The side of his mouth began to tic, characteristically. "He'll make +three passes. The first one high, as an initial check. The second time +he'll come in low just to make sure. The third pass and he'll clobber +us." + +The aircraft was coming on, high but nearer now. + +"So," Elmer said reasonably, "we either get him the second pass he +makes, or we've had it." The young Jamaican's lips were thinned back +over his excellent teeth, as always when he went into combat. + +"That's it," Bey agreed. "Kenny, you and Cliff get the flac rifle, and +have it handy in the back of the second truck. Be sure he doesn't see +it on this first pass. Elmer, get on the radio and check anything he +sends." + +Kenny Ballalou and the hulking Cliff Jackson ran to carry out orders. + +Isobel said, "Got an extra gun for me?" + +Bey scowled at her. "You better get over there with Homer where it's +safer." + +She said evenly, "I've always considered myself a pacifist, but when +somebody starts shooting at me, I forget about it and am inclined to +shoot back." + +"I haven't got time to argue with you," Bey said. "There aren't any +extra guns except handguns and they'd be useless." As he spoke, he +pulled his own Tommy-Noiseless from its scabbard on the front door of +the air cushion lorry, and checked its clip of two hundred .10 caliber +ultra-high velocity rounds. He flicked the selector to the explosive +side of the clip. + + * * * * * + +The plane was roaring in on what would be its first pass, if Bey had +guessed correctly. If he had guessed incorrectly, this might be the +end. A charge of napalm would fry everything for a quarter of a mile +around, or the craft might even be equipped with a mini-fission bomb. +In this area a minor nuclear explosion would probably go undetected. + +Bey yelled, "Don't anybody even try to fire at him at this range. +He'll be back. It takes half the sky to turn around in with that +crate, but he'll be back, lower next time." + +Cliff Jackson said cheerlessly, "Maybe he's just looking for us. He +won't necessarily take a crack at us." + +Bey grunted. "Elmer?" + +"Nothing on the radio," Elmer said. "If he was just scouting us out, +he'd report to his base. But if his orders are to clobber us, then he +wouldn't put it on the air." + +The plane was turning in the sky, coming back. + +Cliff argued, "Well, we can't fire unless we know if he's just hunting +us out, or trying to do us in." + +Elmer said patiently, "For just finding us, that first pass would be +all he needed. He could radio back that he'd found us. But if he comes +in again, he's looking for trouble." + +"Here he comes!" Bey yelled. "Kenny-Cliff ... the rifle!" + +Isobel suddenly dashed out into the sands a dozen yards or so from the +vehicles and began running around and around in a circle as though +demented. + +Bey stared at her. "Get back here," he roared. "Under one of the +trucks!" + +She ignored him. + +The rocket-plane was coming in, low and obviously as slow as the pilot +could retard its speed. + +The flac rifle began jumping and tracers reached out from +it--inaccurately. The Tommy-Noiseless automatics in the hands of Bey +and Elmer Allen gave their silenced _flic flic flic_ sounds, equally +ineffective. + +On the ultra-stubby wings of the fast moving aircraft, a row of +brilliant cherries flickered and a row of explosive shells plowed +across the desert, digging twin ditches, miraculously going between +the air cushion lorries but missing both. It was upon them, over and +gone, before the men on the ground could turn to fire after. + +Elmer Allen muttered an obscenity under his breath. + +Cliff Jackson looked around in desperation. "What can we do now? He +won't come close enough for us to even fire at him, next time." + +Bey said nothing. Isobel had collapsed into the sand. Elmer Allen +looked over at her. "Nice try, Isobel," he said. "I think he came in +lower and slower than he would have otherwise--trying to see what the +devil it was you were doing." + +She shrugged, hopelessly. + +"Hey!" Kenny Ballalou pointed. + +The rocketcraft was wobbling, shuddering, in the sky. Suddenly it +burst into a black cloud of fire and smoke and explosion. + +At the same moment, Homer Crawford got up from the sand dune behind +which he'd stationed himself and plowed awkwardly through the sand +toward them. + +Bey glared at him. + +Homer shrugged and said, "I checked the way he came in the first time +and figured he'd repeat the run. Then I got behind that dune there and +faced in the other direction and started firing where I _thought_ he'd +be, a few seconds before he came over. He evidently ran right into +it." + +Bey said indignantly, "Look, wise guy, you're no longer the leader of +a five-man Reunited Nations African Development Project team. Then, +you were expendable. Now, you're El Hassan. You give the orders. Other +people are expendable." + +Homer Crawford grinned at him, somewhat ruefully and held up his hands +as though in supplication. "Listen to the man, is that any way to talk +to El Hassan?" + +Elmer Allen said worriedly, "He's right, though, Homer. You shouldn't +take chances." + +Homer Crawford went serious. "Actually, none of us should, if we can +avoid it. In a way, El Hassan isn't one person. It's this team here, +and Jake Armstrong, who by this time I hope is on his way to the +States." + +Bey was shaking his head in stubborn determination. "No," he said. +"I'm not sure that you comprehend this yourself, Homer, but you're +Number One. You're the symbol, the hero these people are going to +follow if we put this thing over. They couldn't understand a sextet +leadership. They want a leader, someone to dominate and tell them what +to do. A team you need, admittedly, but not so much as the team needs +you. Remember Alexander? He had a team starting off with Aristotle for +a brain-trust, and Parmenion, one of the greatest generals of all time +for his right-hand man. Then he had a group of field men such as +Ptolemy, Antipater, Antigonus and Seleucus--not to be rivaled until +Napoleon built his team, two thousand years later. And what happened +to this super-team when Alexander died?" + +Homer looked at him thoughtfully. + +Bey wound it up doggedly. "You're our Alexander. Our Caesar. Our +Napoleon. So don't go getting yourself killed, damn it. Excuse me, +Isobel." + +Isobel grinned her pixielike grin. "I agree," she said. "Dammit." + +Homer said, "I'm not sure I go all along with you or not. We'll think +about it." His voice took a sharper note. "Let's go over and see if +there's enough left in that wreckage to give us an idea of who the +pilot represented. I can't believe it was a Reunited Nations man, and +I'd like to know who, of our potential enemies, dislikes the idea of +El Hassan so much that they figure we should all be bumped off before +we even get under way." + + * * * * * + +It had begun--if there is ever a beginning--in Dakar. In the offices +of Sven Zetterberg the Swedish head of the Sahara Division of the +African Development Project of the Reunited Nations. + +Homer Crawford, head of a five-man trouble-shooting team, had reported +for orders. In one hand he held them, when he was ushered into the +other's presence. + +Zetterberg shook hands abruptly, said, "Sit down, Dr. Crawford." + +Homer Crawford looked at the secretary who had ushered him in. + +Zetterberg said, scowling, "What's the matter?" + +"I think I have something to be discussed privately." + +The secretary shrugged and turned and left. + +Zetterberg, still scowling, resumed his own place behind the desk and +said, "Claud Hansen is a trusted Reunited Nations man. What could +possibly be so secret...?" + +Homer indicated the orders he held. "This assignment. It takes some +consideration." + +Sven Zetterberg was not a patient man. He said, in irritation, "It +should be perfectly clear. This El Hassan we've been hearing so much +about. This mystery man come out of the desert attempting to unify +all North America. We want to talk to him." + +"Why?" Crawford said. + +"Confound it," Zetterberg snapped. "I thought we'd gone into this +yesterday. In spite of the complaints that come into this office in +regard to your cavalier tactics in carrying out your assignments, you +and your team are our most competent operatives. So we've given you +the assignment of finding El Hassan." + +"I mean, why do you want to talk to him?" + +The Swede glared at him for a moment, as though the American was being +deliberately dense. "Dr. Crawford," he said, "when the African +Development Project was first begun we had high hopes. Seemingly all +Reunited Nations members were being motivated by high humanitarian +reasons. Our task was to bring all Africa to a level of progress +comparable to the advanced nations. It was more than a duty, it was a +crying need, a demand. Africa is and has been throughout history a +_have-not_ continent. While Europe, the Americas, Australia and now +even Asia, industrialized and largely conquered man's old +socio-economic problems, Africa lagged behind. The reasons were +manifold, colonialism, lingering tribal society ... various others. +Now that very lagging has become a potential explosive situation. With +the coming of antibiotics and other break-throughs in medicine, the +African population is growing with an all but geometric progression. +So fast is it growing, that what advances were being made did less +than keep up the level of per capita gross product. It was bad enough +to have a per capita gross product averaging less than a hundred +dollars a year, but it actually sank below that point." + +Homer Crawford was nodding. + +Zetterberg continued the basic lecture with which he knew the other +was already completely familiar. "So the Reunited Nations took on the +task of advancing as rapidly as possible the African economy and all +the things that must be done before an economy _can_ be advanced. It +was self-preservation, I suppose. _Have-not_ nations, not to speak of +_have-not_ races and _have-not_ continents, have a tendency eventually +to explode upon their wealthier neighbors." + +The Swede pressed his lips together before continuing. "Unfortunately, +the Reunited Nations as the United Nations and the League of Nations +before it, is composed of members each with its own irons in the fire. +Each with its own plans and schemes." His voice was bitter now. "The +Arab Union with its desire to unite all Islam into one. The Soviet +Complex with its ultimate dream of a soviet world. The capitalistic +economies of the British Commonwealth, Common Europe, and your United +States of the Americas, with their hunger for, positive need for, +sources of raw materials and markets for their manufactured products. +All, though playing lip service to the African Development Project, +have still their own ambitions." + +Sven Zetterberg waggled a finger at Homer Crawford. "I do not charge +that your United States is attempting to take over Africa, or even any +section of it, in the old colonialistic sense. Even England and France +have discovered that it is much simpler to dominate economically than +to go through all the expense and effort of governing another people. +That is the basic reason they gave up their empires. No, your United +States would love to so dominate Africa that her products, her +entrepreneurs, would flood the continent to the virtual exclusion of +such economic competitors as Common Europe. The Commonwealth feels the +same, so does the French Community. The Soviets and Arabs have +different motivations, but they, too, wish to take over. The +result...." The Swede tossed up his hands in a gesture more Gallic +than Scandinavian. + + * * * * * + +"What has all this got to do with El Hassan?" Homer Crawford asked +softly. + +The Swede leaned forward. "If we more devoted adherents of the +Reunited Nations are ever to see our hopes come true, Africa must be +united and made strong. And this must be done through the efforts of +_Africans_ not Russians, British, French, Arabs ... nor even +Scandinavians. Socio-economic changes should not, possibly cannot, be +inflicted upon a people from without. Look at the mess the Russians +made in such countries as Hungary, or the Americans in such as South +Korea." + +"The people themselves must have the dream," Crawford said softly. + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"Nothing. Go on." + +Zetterberg said, "On the surface, great progress seems to be +continuing. Afforestation of the Sahara, the solar pumps creating new +oases, the water purification plants on the Atlantic and +Mediterranean, pushing back the desert, the oil fields, the mines, the +roads, the damming of the Niger. But already cracks can be seen. A +week or so ago, a team of Cubans, supposedly, at least, in the Sudan +to improve sugar refining methods, were machine-gunned to death. By +whom? By the Sudanese? Unlikely. No, this Cuban massacre was one of +many recent signs of conflict between the great powers in their +efforts to dominate. Our problem, of course, deals only with North +Africa, but I have heard rumors in Geneva that much the same situation +is developing in the south as well." + +"At any rate, Dr. Crawford, when the rumors of El Hassan began to come +into this office they brought with them a breath of hope. From all we +have heard, he teaches our basic program--a breaking down of old +tribal society, education, economic progress, Pan-African unity. Dr. +Crawford, no one with whom this office is connected seems ever to have +seen this El Hassan but we are most anxious to talk to him. Perhaps +this is the man behind whom we can throw our support. Your task is to +find him." + +Homer Crawford raked the fingers of his right hand back over his +short wiry hair, and grimaced. He said, "It won't be necessary." + +[Illustration] + +"I beg your pardon, Doctor?" + +Crawford said, "It won't be necessary to go looking for El Hassan." + +The Swede scowled his irritation at the other. "See here...." + +Crawford said, "I'm El Hassan." + +Sven Zetterberg stared at him, uncomprehending. + +Homer Crawford said, "I suppose it's your turn to listen and for me +to do the talking." He shifted in his chair, uncomfortably. "Dr. +Zetterberg, even before the Reunited Nations evolved the idea of the +African Development Project, it became obvious that the field work was +going to have to be in the hands of Negroes. The reason is doublefold. +First, the African doesn't trust the white man, for good reason. +Second, the white man is a citizen of his own country, first of all, +and finds it difficult not to have motives connected with his own race +and nation. But the African Negro, too, has his tribal and sometimes +national affiliations and cannot be trusted not to be prejudiced in +their favor. The answer? The educated American Negro, such as myself." + +"I haven't the slightest idea from whence came my ancestors, from what +part of Africa, what tribe, what nation. But I am a Negro and ... +well, have the dream of bettering my race. I have no irons in the +fire, beyond altruistic ones. Of course, when I say American Negroes I +don't exclude Canadian ones, or those of Latin America or the +Caribbean. It is simply that there are greater numbers of educated +American Negroes than you find elsewhere." + +Zetterberg said impatiently, "Please, Dr. Crawford. Come to the point. +That ridiculous statement you made about El Hassan." + +"Of course, I am merely giving background. Most of we field workers, +not only the African Development teams, but such organizations as the +Africa for Africans Association and the representatives of the African +Department of the British Commonwealth, and of the French Community's +African Affairs sector, are composed of Negroes." + +Zetterberg was nodding. "All right, I know." + +Homer Crawford said, "The teams of all these organizations do their +best to spur African progress, in our case, in North Africa, +especially the area between the Niger and the Mediterranean. Often we +disguise ourselves as natives since in that manner we are more quickly +trusted. We wear the clothes, speak the local language or lingua +franca." + +The American hesitated a moment, then plunged in. "Dr. Zetterberg, the +African is still a primitive but newly beginning to move out of a +tradition-ritual-taboo tribal society. He seeks a hero to follow, a +man of towering prestige who knows the answers to all questions. We +may not _like_ this fact, we with our traditions of democracy, but it +is so. The African is simply not yet at that stage of society where +political democracy is applicable." + +"My team does most of its work posing as Enaden--low caste itinerant +smiths of the Sahara. As such we can go any place and are everywhere +accepted, a necessary sector of the Saharan economy. As such, we +continually spread the ... ah, propaganda of the Reunited Nations--the +need for education, the need for taking jobs on the new projects, the +need for casting aside old institutions and embracing the new. Early +in the game we found our words had little weight coming from simple +Enaden smiths so we ... well, _invented_ this mysterious El Hassan, +and everything we said we attributed to him." + +"News spreads fast in the desert, astonishingly fast. El Hassan +started with us but soon other teams, hearing about him and realizing +that his message was the same as that they were trying to propagate, +did the same thing. That is, attributed the messages they had to +spread to El Hassan. It was amusing when a group of us got together +last week in Timbuktu, to find that we'd all taken to kowtowing to +this mythical desert hero who planned to unite all North Africa." + +The Swede was staring at him unbelievingly. "But, a bit earlier you +said you were El Hassan." + +Homer Crawford looked into his chief's face and nodded seriously. +"I've been conferring with various other field workers, both Reunited +Nations and otherwise. The situation calls for a real El Hassan. If we +don't provide him, someone else will. I propose to take over the +position." + +Sven Zetterberg's face was suddenly cold. "And why, Dr. Crawford, do +you think you are more qualified than others?" + +The American Negro could hardly fail to note the other's disapproval. +He said evenly, but definitely, "Through experience. Through +education. Through ... through having the dream, Dr. Zetterberg." + +"The Reunited Nations cannot support such a project, Dr. Crawford. I +absolutely forbid you to consider it." + +"Forbid me?" + + * * * * * + +It was as though a strange something entered the atmosphere of the +room, almost as though a new _presence_ was there. And almost, it +seemed to Sven Zetterberg, that the already tall, solidly built man +across from him grew physically as his voice seemed to swell, to reach +out, to dominate. There was a new, and all but unbelievable Homer +Crawford here. + +The Swedish official regathered his forces. This was ridiculous. He +said again, "I forbid you to...." the sentence dribbled away under the +cold disdain in the air now. + +Homer Crawford said flatly, "You don't seem to understand, Zetterberg. +The Reunited Nations has no control over El Hassan. Homer Crawford, as +of this meeting, has resigned his post with the African Development +Project. And El Hassan has begun his task of uniting all North +Africa." + +Sven Zetterberg, shaken by this new and unsuspected force the other +seemed to be able to bring to his command, fought back. "It will be +simple to discredit you, to let it be known that you are no more than +an ambitious American out to seize power illegally." + +Crawford's scorn held an element of amusement. "Try it. I suspect your +attempts to discredit El Hassan will prove unsuccessful. He has +already been rumored to be everything from an Ethiopian to the Second +Coming of the Messiah. Your attempt to brand him an American +adventurer will be swallowed up in the flood of other rumor." + +The Swede was still shaken by the strange manner in which his once +subordinate had suddenly dominated him. Sven Zetterberg was not a man +to be dominated, to be made unsure. + +Time folded back on itself and for a moment he was again a lad and on +vacation with his father in Bavaria. They were having lunch in the +famed Hofbrauehaus, largest of the Munich beercellars, and even a +ten-year-old could sense an anticipation in the air, particularly +among the large number of brownshirted men who had gathered to one +side of the ground level of the beer hall. His father was telling Sven +of the history of the medieval building when a silence fell. Into the +beer hall had come a pasty faced, trenchcoat garbed little man, his +face set in stern lines but insufficiently to offset the ludicrous +mustache. He was accompanied by an elderly soldier in the uniform of a +Field Marshal, by a large tub of a man whose face beamed--but +evilly--and by a pinch faced cripple. All were men of command, all +except the pasty faced one, to whom they seemingly and surprisingly, +deferred. And then he stood on a heavy chair and spoke. And then his +_power_ reached out and grasped all within reach of his shrill voice. +Grasped them and compelled them and they became a shouting, red faced, +arm brandishing mob, demanding to be led to glory. And Sven's father +had bustled the shocked boy from the building. + +It came back to him now, clearly and forcefully, and he realized that +whatever it was with which the Beast of Berchtesgaden had enchanted +his people, that power was on call in Homer Crawford. Whether he used +it for good or evil, that enchanting power was on call. And again Sven +Zetterberg was shaken. + +Homer Crawford was on his feet, preparatory to leaving. + +The Swede simply _had_ to reassert himself. "Dr. Crawford, the +Reunited Nations is not without resources. You'll be arrested before +you leave Dakar." + +An element of the tenseness left the air when Crawford smiled and +said, "Doctor, for several years now I have been playing hide and seek +in the Sahara, doing your work. You mentioned earlier that my team is +the most experienced and capable. Just whom are you going to send to +pick me up? Members of some of the other teams? Old friends and +comrades in arms. Many of whom owe their lives to my team when all +bets were down. Please do send them, Doctor, I am going to need +recruits." + +He swung and left the office and even as he went could hear the angry +Reunited Nations chief blasting into an interoffice communicator. He +decided he'd better see if there wasn't a back door or window through +which to leave the building. He'd have to phone Bey, Isobel and the +others and get together for a meeting to plan developments. El Hassan +was getting off to a fast start, already he was on the lam. + + * * * * * + +Homer Crawford played it safe. From the nearest public phone he called +Isobel Cunningham at the Hotel Juan-le-Pin. No matter how fast Sven +Zetterberg swung into action, it would take his operatives some time +to connect Isobel with Homer and his team. As an employee of the +Africa for Africans Association, she would ordinarily come in little +contact with the Reunited Nations teams. + +He said, "Isobel? Homer here. Can you talk?" + +She said, "Cliff and Jake are here." + +He said, "Have you sounded them out? How do they feel about the El +Hassan project?" + +"They're in. At least, Jake is. We're still arguing with Cliff." + +"O.K. Now listen, carefully. Zetterberg turned thumbs down on the +whole deal, for various reasons we can discuss later. In fact, he's +incensed and threatened to take steps to keep us from leaving Dakar." + +Isobel was alerted but she snorted deprecation. "What do you want?" + +"They're probably already looking for me, and in a matter of minutes +will probably try to pick up Bey-ag-Akhamouk, Elmer Allen and Kenny +Ballalou, the other members of my team. Get in touch with them +immediately and tell them to get into native costume and into hiding. +You and Jake--and Cliff--do the same." + +"Right. Where do we meet and when?" + +"In the _souk_, in the food market. There's a native restaurant there, +run by a former Vietnamese. We'll meet there at approximately noon." + +"Right. Anything else?" + +Homer said, "Tell Bey to bring along an extra 9mm Recoilless for me." + +"Yes, El Hassan," she said, her voice expressionless. She didn't waste +time. Homer Crawford heard the phone click as she hung up. + +He was in a branch building of the post and telegraph network on the +Rue des Resistance. Before leaving it, he looked out a window. Half a +block away was the office of the Sahara Division of the African +Development Project. Even as he watched, a dozen men hurried out the +front door, fanned out in all directions. + +Homer grinned sourly. Old Sven was moving fast. + +He shot a quick glance around the lobby of the building. He had to get +going. Zetterberg had started with a dozen men to trail down El +Hassan. He'd probably have a hundred involved before the hour was out. + +A corridor turned off to the right. Homer hurried down it. At each +door he looked inside. To whoever occupied the room he murmured a few +words of apology in Wolof, the Sengalese lingua franca. The fourth +office was empty. + +Homer stood there before it for a long, agonizing moment, waiting for +the right person to pass. Finally, the man he needed came along. +About six feet tall, about a hundred and eighty; dressed in the local +native dress and on the ragged side. + +Homer said to him authoritatively, in the Wolof tongue, "You there, +come in here!" He opened the door, and pointed into the office. + +The other, taken aback, demurred. + +Homer's face and tone went still more commanding. "Step in here, +before I call the police." + +It was all a mistake, of course. The Senegalese made the gesture +equivalent to the European's shrug, and entered the office. + +Homer came in behind him, closed the door. He wasted no time in +preliminaries. Before the native turned, the American's hand lashed +out in a karate blow which stunned the other. Homer Crawford caught +him, even as he fell, and lowered him gently to the floor. + +"Sorry, old boy," he muttered, "but this is probably the most +profitable thing that's happened to you this year." + +He stripped off the other's clothes, as rapidly as he could make his +hands fly. The other was still out and probably would be for another +ten minutes, Crawford estimated. He stripped off his own clothes and +donned the native's. + +Last of all, he took his wallet from his pocket, divided the money it +contained and stuffed a considerable wad of it into the European +clothing he was abandoning. + +"Don't spend all of that in one place," he growled softly. + +Homer dragged the other to a side of the room so that the body could +not be spotted from the entrance. Then he crossed to the door, opened +it and stepped into the corridor beyond. + + * * * * * + +There was no need for sulking. He walked out the front door and headed +away from the dock and administration buildings area and toward the +native section, passing the Reunited Nations building on the way. + +Dakar teems with multitudes of a dozen tribes come in from the jungles +and the bush, the desert and the swamp areas of the sources of the +Niger, to look for work on the new projects, to visit relatives, to +market for the products of civilization--or to gawk. Homer Crawford +disappeared into them. One among many. + +Toward noon, he entered the cleared area which was the restaurant he +had named to Isobel and squatted before the pots to the far end of the +Vietnamese owned eatery, examining them with care. He chose a large +chunk of barbequed goat and was served it with a half pound piece of +unsalted Senegalese bread, torn from a monstrous loaf, and a twisted +piece of newspaper into which had been measured an ounce or so of +coarse salt. He took his meal and went to as secluded a corner as he +could find. + +Homer Crawford chuckled inwardly. That morning he had breakfasted in +the most swank hotel in West Africa. He wished there was some manner +in which he could have invited Sven Zetterberg to dine here with him. +Or, come to think of it, a group of the students he had once taught +sociology at the University of Michigan. Or, possibly, prexy +Wallington, under whom he had worked while taking his doctor's degree. + +Yes, it would have been interesting to have had a luncheon companion. + +A native woman, on the stoutish side but with her hair done up in one +of the fabulously ornate hair styles specialized in by the Senegalese, +and wearing a flowing, shapeless dress of the garish textiles run off +purposely for this market in Japan and Manchester, waddled up to take +a place nearby. She bore a huge skewer of barbequed beef chunks, and a +hunk of bread not unlike Homer's own. + +She grumbled uncomfortably, her back to the American, as she settled +into a position on the floor. And she mumbled as she began chewing at +the meat. + +_No table manners_, Homer Crawford grinned inwardly. He wondered how +long it would take for the others to get here. He wasn't worried about +Isobel, Cliff Jackson and Jake Armstrong. It would take time before +Zetterberg's Reunited Nations cloak and dagger boys got around to +them, but he wasn't sure that she'd be able to locate his own team in +time. That bit he'd given the Swede official about his being so +bully-bully with the other Reunited Nations teams was in the way of +being an exaggeration, with the idea of throwing the other off. +Actually, working in the field on definite assignments, it was seldom +you ran into other African Development Project men. But perhaps it +would tie Zetterberg up, wondering just who he could trust to send +looking for El Hassan. + +He finished off his barbequed goat and the bread and wiped his hands +on his clothes. Nobody here yet. To have an excuse for staying, he +would have to buy a bottle of Gazelle beer, the cheap Senegalese brew +which came in quart bottles and was warm and on the gassy side. + +It was then that the woman in front of him, without turning, said +softly, "El Hassan?" + + +II + +Homer Crawford stared at her, unbelievingly. The woman couldn't +possibly be an emissary from Isobel or from one of his own companions. +This situation demanded the utmost secrecy, they hadn't had time to +screen any outsiders as to trustworthiness. + +She turned. It was Isobel. She chuckled softly, "You should see your +face." + +His eyes went to her figure. + +"Done with mirrors," Isobel said. "Or, at least, with pillows." + +Homer didn't waste time. "Where are the others? They should be here by +now." + +"We figured that the fewer of us seen on the streets, the better. So +they're waiting for you. Since I was the most easily disguised, the +least suspicious looking, I was elected to come get you." + +"Waiting where?" + +She licked the side of her mouth, a disconcerting characteristic of +hers, and looked at him archly. "Those pals of yours have quite a bit +on the ball on their own. They decided that there was a fairly good +chance that Sven Zetterberg wasn't exactly going to fall into your +arms, so they took preliminary measures. Kenny Ballalou rented a small +house, here in the native quarter. We've all rendezvoused there. See, +you aren't the only one on the ball." + +Homer frowned at her, for the moment being in no mood for humor. "What +was the idea of sitting here for the past five minutes without even +speaking? You must have recognized me, knowing what to look for." + +She nodded. "I ... I wasn't sure, Homer, but I had the darnedest +feeling I was being followed." + +His glance was sharp now. First at her, then a quick darting around +the vicinity. "Woman's intuition," he snapped, "or something +substantial?" + +She frowned at him. "I'm not a ninny, Homer." + +His voice softened and he said quickly, "Don't misunderstand, Isobel. +I know that." + +She forgot about her objection to his tone. "Even intuition doesn't +come out of a clear sky. Something sparks it. Subconscious psi, +possibly, but a spark." + +"However?" he prodded. + +"I took all precautions. I can't seem to put my finger on anything." + +"O.K.," he said decisively. "Let's go then." He came to his feet and +reached a hand down for her. + +"Heavens to Betsy," she said, "don't do that." + +"What?" + +"Help a woman in public. You'll look suspicious." She came to her own +feet, without aid. + +_Damn_, he thought. She was right. The last thing he wanted was to +draw attention to a man who acted peculiarly. + + * * * * * + +They made their way out of the food market and into the _souk_ proper, +Homer walking three or four paces ahead of her, Isobel demurely +behind, her eyes on the ground. They passed the native stands and tiny +shops, and the even smaller venders and hucksters with their products +of the mass production industries of East and West, side by side with +the native handicrafts ranging from carved wooden statues, jewelry, +_gris gris_ charms and kambu fetishes, to ceramics whose designs went +back to an age before the Portuguese first cruised off this coast. And +everywhere was color; there are no people on earth more color +conscious than the Senegalese. + +Isobel guided him, her voice quiet and still maintaining its +uncharacteristic demure quality. + +He would never have recognized Isobel, Homer Crawford told himself. +Isobel Cunningham, late of Columbia University where she'd taken her +Master's in anthropology. Isobel Cunningham, whom he had told on their +first meeting that she looked like the former singing star, Lena +Horne. Isobel Cunningham, slight of build, pixie of face, crisply +modern American with her tongue and wit. Was he in love with her? He +didn't know. El Hassan had no time, at present, for those things love +implied. + +She said, "Here," and led the way down a brick paved passage to a +small house, almost a hut, that lay beyond. + +Homer Crawford looked about him critically before entering. He said, +"I suppose this has been scouted out adequately. Where's the back +entrance?" He scowled. "Haven't the boys posted a sentry?" + +A voice next to his ear said pleasantly, "Stick 'em up, stranger. +Where'd you get that zoot suit?" + +He jerked his head about. There was a very small opening in the wooden +wall next to him. It was Kenny Ballalou's voice. + +"Zoot suit, yet!" Homer snorted. "I haven't heard that term since I +was in rompers." + +"You in rompers I'd like to see," Kenny snorted in his turn. "Come on +in, everybody's here." + +The aged, unpainted, warped, wooden house consisted of two rooms, the +one three times as large as the second. The furniture was minimal, but +there was sitting room on chair, stool and bed for the seven of them. + +"Hail, O El Hassan!" Elmer Allen called sourly, as Homer entered. + +"And the hail with you," Homer called back, then, "Oops, sorry, +Isobel." + +Isobel put her hands on her hips, greatly widened by the stuffing +she'd placed beneath her skirts. "Look," she said. "Thus far, the El +Hassan organization, which claims rule of all North Africa, consists +of six men and one dame ... ah, that is, one lady. Just so the lady +won't continually feel that she's being a drag on the conversation, +you are hereby allowed in moments of stress such shocking profanity as +an occasional damn or hell. But only if said lady is also allowed such +expletives during periods of similar stress." + +Everyone laughed, and found chairs. + +"I'm in love with Isobel Cunningham," Bey announced definitely. + +"Second the motion," Elmer said. + +The rest of them called, "Aye." + +"O.K.," Homer Crawford said glumly, "I can see that this is going to +be one tight knit organization. Six men in love with the one dame ... +ah, that is, lady. Kind of a reverse harem deal. Oh, this is going to +lead to great co-operation." + + * * * * * + +They laughed again and then Jake said, "Well, what's the story, Homer? +How does the El Hassan project sound to Zetterberg and the Reunited +Nations?" + +Cliff Jackson laughed bitterly. "Why do you think we're in hiding?" +Only he and Jake Armstrong wore western clothing. Kenny Ballalou, +Bey-ag-Akhamouk and Elmer Allen were in native dress, similar to that +of Homer Crawford. Elmer Allen even bore a pilgrim's staff. + +[Illustration] + +Crawford, glad that the edge of tenseness had been taken off the group +by the banter with Isobel, turned serious now. + +He said, "This is where we each take our stand. You can turn back at +this point, any one of you, and things will undoubtedly go on as +before. You'll keep your jobs, have no marks against you. Beyond this +point, and there's no turning back. I want you all to think it over, +before coming to any snap decisions." + +Elmer Allen said, his face wearing its usual all but sullen +expression. "How about you?" + +Homer said evenly, "I've already taken my stand." + +Kenny Ballalou yawned and said, "I've been in this team for three or +four years, I'm too lazy to switch now Besides, I've always wanted to +be a corrupt politician. Can I be treasurer in this El Hassan regime?" + +"No," Homer said. "Bey?" + +Bey-ag-Akhamouk said, "I've always wanted to be a general. I'll come +in under those circumstances." + +Homer said, his voice still even. "That's out. From this point in, +you're a Field Marshal and Minister of Defense." + +"Shucks," Bey said. "I'd always wanted to be a general." + +Homer Crawford said dryly, "Doesn't anybody take this seriously? It's +probably going to mean all your necks before it's through, you know." + +Elmer Allen said dourly, "I take it seriously. I spent the idealistic +years, the school years, working for peace, democracy, a better world. +Now, here I am, helping to attempt to establish a tyranny over half +the continent of my racial background. But I'm in." + +"Right," Homer said, the side of his mouth twitching. "You can be our +Minister of Propaganda." + +"Minister of Propaganda!" Elmer wailed. "You mean like Goebbels? Me!" + +Homer laughed. "O.K., we'll call it Minister of Information, or Press +Secretary to El Hassan. It all means the same thing." He looked at +Jacob Armstrong and said, "How old are you, Jake?" + +"That's none of your business," the white-haired Jake said +aggressively. "I'm in. El Hassan is the only answer. North Africa has +got to be united, both for internal and external purposes. If you ... +if we ... don't do the job first, somebody else will, and off hand, I +can't think of anybody else I trust. I'm in." + +Homer Crawford looked at him for a long moment. "Yes," he said +finally. "Of course you are. Jake, you've just been made our combined +Foreign Minister and Plenipotentiary Extraordinary to the Reunited +Nations. You'll leave immediately, first for Geneva, to present our +demands to the Reunited Nations, then to New York." + +"What do I do in New York?" Jake Armstrong said blankly, trying to +assimilate the curves that were being thrown to him. + +"You raise money and support from starry eyed Negro groups and +individuals. You line up such organizations as the Africa for Africans +Association behind El Hassan. You give speeches, and ruin your liver +eating at banquets every night in the week. You send out releases to +the press. You get all the publicity for the El Hassan movement you +can. You send official protests to the governments of every country in +the world, every time they do something that doesn't fit in with our +needs. You locate recruits and send them here to Africa to take over +some of the load. I don't have to tell you what to do. You can think +on your feet as well as I can. Do what is necessary. You're our +Foreign Minister. Don't let us see your face again until El Hassan is +in control of North Africa." + +Jake Armstrong blinked. "How will I prove I'm your representative? +I'll need more than just a note _To Whom It May Concern_." + +Homer Crawford thought about that. + + * * * * * + +Bey said, "One of our first jobs is going to have to be to capture a +town where they have a broadcast station, say Zinder or In Salah. When +we do, we'll announce that you're Foreign Minister." + +Crawford nodded. "That's obviously the ticket. By that time you should +be in New York, with an office opened." + +Jake rubbed a black hand over his cheek as though checking his morning +shave. "It's going to take some money to get started. Once started I +can depend on contributions, perhaps, but at first...." + +Homer interrupted with, "Cliff, you're Minister of the Treasury. +Raise some money." + +"Eh?" Cliff Jackson said blankly. The king-size, easy-going +Californian looked more like the early Joe Louis than ever. + +Everybody laughed. Elmer Allen came forth with his wallet and began +pulling out such notes as it contained. "I don't know what we'd be +doing with this in the desert," he said. + +Isobel said, "I have almost three thousand dollars in a checking +account in New York. Let's see if I have my checkbook here." + +The others were going through their pockets. As bank notes in British +pounds, American dollars, French francs and Common Europe marks +emerged they were tossed to the center of the small table which +wobbled on three legs in the middle of the room. + +Elmer Allen said, "I have an account with the Bank of Jamaica in +Kingston. About four hundred pounds, I think. I'll have it +transferred." + +Cliff took up the money and began counting it, making notations on a +notebook pad as he went. + +Bey said, "We're only going to be able to give Jake part of this." + +"How's that?" Elmer growled. "What use have we for money in the +Sahara? Jake's got to put up a decent front in Geneva and New York." + +Bey said doggedly, "As Defense Minister, I'm opposed to El Hassan's +followers _ever_ taking anything without generous payment. We'll need +food and various services. From the beginning, we're going to have to +pay our way. We can't afford to let rumors start going around that +we're nothing but a bunch of brigands." + +"Bey's right," Homer nodded. "The El Hassan movement is going to have +to maintain itself on the highest ethical level. We're going to take +over where the French Camel Corps left off and police North Africa. +There can't be a man from Somaliland to Mauretania who can say that +one of El Hassan's followers liberated him from as much as a date." + +Kenny Ballalou said, "You can always requisition whatever you need and +give them a receipt, and then we'll pay off when we come to power." + +"That's out!" Bey snapped. "Most of these people can't read. And even +those that do don't trust what they read. A piece of paper, in their +eyes, is no return for some goats, or flour, camels, horses, or +whatever else it might be we need. No, we're going to have to pay our +way." + +Crawford raked a hand back through his wiry hair. "Bey's right, Kenny. +It's going to be a rough go, especially at first." + +Kenny snorted. "What do you mean, _at first?_ What's going to happen, +_at second_ to make it any easier? Where're we going to get all this +money we'll need to pay for even what we ourselves use, not to speak +of the thousands of men we're going to have to have if El Hassan is +ever to come to power?" + +Bey's eyebrows went up in shocked innocence. "Kenny, dear boy, don't +misunderstand. We don't requisition anything from individuals, or +clans, or small settlements. But if we take over a town such as Gao, +or Niamey, or Colomb-Bechar, or wherever, there is nothing to say that +a legal government such as that of El Hassan, can't requisition the +contents of the local banks." + +Homer Crawford said with dignity, "The term, my dear Minister of +Defense, currently is to _nationalize_ the bank. Whether or not we +wish to have the banks remain nationalized, after we take over, we can +figure out later. But in the early stages, I'm afraid we're going to +have to nationalize just about every bank we come in contact with." + +Cliff Jackson said cautiously, "I haven't said whether or not I'll +come in yet, but just as a point, I might mention issuing your own +legal tender. As soon as you liberate a printing press somewhere, of +course." + +Everyone was charmed at the idea. + +Isobel said, "You can see Cliff was _meant_ to be Minister of +Treasury. He's got _wholesale_ larceny in his soul, none of this +picayunish stuff such as robbing nomads of their sheep." + +Elmer Allen was shaking his head sadly. "This whole conversation +started with Bey protesting that we couldn't allow ourselves to be +thought of as brigands. Now listen to you all." + +Kenny Ballalou said with considerable dignity, "See here, friend. +Don't you know the difference between brigandage and international +finance?" + +"No," Elmer said flatly. + +"Hm-m-m," Kenny said. + +"Let's get on with this," Homer said. "The forming of El Hassan's +basic government is beginning to take on aspects of a minstrel show. +Then we've all declared ourselves in ... except Cliff." + +All eyes turned to the bulky Californian. + +He sat scowling. + +Homer said, easily, "You're not being urged, Cliff. You can turn back +at this point." + +Elmer Allen growled, "You came to Africa to help your race develop its +continent. To conquer such problems as sufficient food, clothing and +shelter for all. To bring education and decent medical care to a +people who have had possibly the lowest living standards anywhere. Can +you see any way of achieving this beyond the El Hassan movement?" + +Cliff looked at him, still scowling stubbornly. "That's not why I came +to Africa." + +Their eyes were all on him, but they remained silent. + +He said, defensively, "I'm no do-gooder. I took a job with the Africa +for Africans Association because it was the best job I could find." + +Isobel broke the silence by saying softly, "I doubt it, Cliff." + +The big man stood up from where he'd been seated on the bed. "O.K., +O.K. Possibly there were other angles. I wanted to travel. Wanted to +see Africa. Besides, it was good background for some future job. I +figured it wouldn't hurt me any, in later years, applying for some +future job. Maybe with some Negro concern in the States. I'd be able +to say I'd put in a few years in Africa. Something like a Jew in New +York who was a veteran of the Israel-Arab wars, before the debacle." + +They still looked at him, none of them accusingly. + +He was irritated as he paced. "Don't you see? Everybody doesn't have +this _dream_ that Homer's always talking about. That doesn't mean I'm +abnormal. I just don't have the interest you do. All I want is a good +job, some money in the bank, security back in the States. I'm not +interested in dashing all over the globe, getting shot at, dying for +some ideal." + +Homer said gently, "It's up to you, Cliff. Nobody's twisting your +arm." + +There was sweat on the big man's forehead. "All I came to Africa for +was the job, the money I got out of it," he repeated, insisting. + + * * * * * + +To Homer Crawford suddenly came the realization that the other needed +an out, an excuse. An explanation to himself for doing something he +wanted to do but wouldn't admit because it went against the +opportunistic code he told himself he followed. + +Homer said, "All right. How much are you making as a field worker for +the Africa for Africans Association?" + +Cliff looked at him, uncomprehending. "Eight thousand dollars, plus +expenses." + +"O.K., we'll double that. Sixteen thousand to begin with, as El +Hassan's Minister of Treasury and whatever other duties we can think +of to hang on you." + +There was a long moment of silence, unbroken by any of the others. +Finally in a gesture of desperation, Cliff Jackson waved at the money +and checks sitting on the center table. "Sixteen thousand a year! The +whole organization doesn't have enough to pay me six months' salary." + +Homer said mildly, "That's why your pay was doubled. You have to take +risks to make money in this world, Cliff. If El Hassan does come to +power, undoubtedly you'll get other raises--along with greater +responsibility." + +He looked into Cliff Jackson's face, and although his words had dealt +with money, a man's dream looked out from his eyes. And the force of +personality that could emanate from Homer Crawford, possibly +unbeknownst to himself, flooded over the huge Californian. The others +in the room could feel it. Elmer Allen cleared his throat; Isobel held +her elbows to her sides, in a feminine protest against naked male +psychic strength. + +Kenny Ballalou said without inflection, "Put up or shut up, Cliff old +pal." + +Cliff Jackson sank back onto the spot on the bed he'd occupied before. +"I'm in," he muttered, so softly as hardly to be heard. + +"None of you are in," a voice from the doorway said. + +The figure that stood there held a thin, but heavy calibered +automatic in his hand. + + * * * * * + +He was a dapper man, neat, trim, smart. His clothes were those of +Greater Washington, rather than Dakar and West Africa. His facial +expression seemed overly alert, overly bright, and his features were +more Caucasian than Negroid. + +He said, "I believe you all know me. Fredric Ostrander." + +"Of the Central Intelligence Agency," Homer Crawford said dryly. He as +well as Bey, Elmer and Kenny had risen to their feet when the newcomer +entered from the smaller of the hut's two rooms. "What's the gun for, +Ostrander?" + +"You're under arrest," the C.I.A. man said evenly. + +Elmer Allen snorted. "Under whose authority are you working? As a +Jamaican, I'm a citizen of the West Indies and a subject of Her +Majesty." + +"We'll figure that out later," Ostrander rapped. "I'm sure the +appropriate Commonwealth authorities will co-operate with the State +Department and the Reunited Nations in this matter." The gun +unwaveringly went from one of them to the other, retraced itself. + +Bey looked at Homer Crawford. + +Crawford shook his head gently. + +He said to the newcomer, "The question still stands, Ostrander. Under +whose authority are you operating? I don't think you have jurisdiction +over us. We're in Africa, not in the United States of the Americas." + +Ostrander said tightly, "Right now I'm operating under the authority +of this weapon in my hand. Dr. Crawford. Do you realize that all of +you Americans here are risking your citizenship?" + +Kenny Ballalou said, "Oh? Tell us more, Mr. State Department man." + +"You're serving in the armed forces of a foreign power." + +Even the dour Elmer Allen laughed at that one. + +Crawford said, "The fact of the matter is, we _are_ the foreign +power." + +"You're not amusing, Dr. Crawford," Ostrander said. "I've kept up with +this situation since you had that conference in Timbuktu. The State +Department has no intention of allowing some opportunist, backed by +known communists and fellow travelers, to seize power in this portion +of the world. In a matter of months the Soviets would be in here." + +Isobel said evenly, "I was formerly a member of the Party. I no longer +am. I am an active opponent of the Soviet Complex at the moment, +especially in regard to its activity in Africa." + +Ostrander snorted his disbelief. + +Elmer Allen said, "You chaps never forget, do you?" He looked at the +others and explained. "Back during college days, I signed a few peace +petitions, that sort of thing. Ever since, every time I come in +contact with these people, you'd think I was Lenin or Trotsky." + +Homer Crawford said, "My opinion is, Ostrander, that you've had to +move too quickly to check back with your superiors. Has the State +Department actually instructed you to arrest me and my companions here +on foreign soil, without a warrant?" + +Ostrander clipped, "That's my responsibility. I'm taking you all in. +We'll solve such problems as jurisdiction and warrants when I get you +to the Reunited Nations headquarters." + +"Ah?" Homer Crawford said. "And then what happens to us?" + +Ostrander jiggled the gun, impatiently. "Sven Zetterberg is of the +opinion that you should immediately be flown out of Africa and the +case brought before the High Council of the African Development +Project. What measures will be taken beyond that point I have no way +of knowing." + +Bey took a step to the left, Kenny Ballalou one to the right. Homer +Crawford remained immediately before the C.I.A. operative, his hands +slightly out from his sides, palms slightly forward. + +Ostrander snapped, "I'm prepared to fire, you men. I don't +underestimate the importance of this situation. If your crazy scheme +makes any progress at all, it might well result in the death of +thousands. I know your background, Crawford. You once taught judo in +the Marines. I'm not unfamiliar with the art myself." + +Isobel had a hand to her mouth, her eyes were wide. "Boys, don't ..." +she began. + +Elmer Allen had been leaning on his pilgrim's staff, as though weary +with this whole matter. He said to Ostrander, interestedly, "So you've +been checked out on judo? Know anything about the use of the +quarterstaff?" + +Ostrander kept his gun traversing between the four of them. "Eh?" he +said. + +Elmer Allen shifted his grip on his staff infinitesimally. Of a +sudden, the end of the staff, now gripped with both hands near the +center, moved at invisibly high speed. There was a crack of the wrist +bone, and the gun went flying. The other end of the staff flicked out +and rapped the C.I.A. operative smartly on the head. + +Fredric Ostrander crumbled to the floor. + + * * * * * + +"Confound it, Elmer," Crawford said. "What'd you have to go and do +that for? I wanted to talk to him some more and send a message back to +Zetterberg. Sooner or later we've got to make our peace with the +Reunited Nations." + +Elmer said embarrassedly, "Sorry, it just happened. I was merely going +to knock the gun out of his hand, but then I couldn't help myself. I +was tired of hearing that holier-than-thou voice of his." + +Kenny Ballalou looked down at the fallen man gloomily. "He'll be out +for an hour. You're lucky you didn't crack his skull." + +"Holy Mackerel," Cliff Jackson said. "I'm going to have to learn to +operate one of those things." + +Elmer Allen handed him the supposed pilgrim's staff. "Best +hand-to-hand combat weapon ever invented," he said. "The British +yeoman's quarterstaff. Of course, this is a modernized version. Made +of epoxy resin glass-fiber material, treated to look like wood. That +stuff can turn a high-velocity bullet, let alone a sword, and it can +be bent in a ninety degree arc without the slightest effect, although +it'd take a power-driven testing machine to do it." + +"All right, all right," Homer said. "We haven't got time for lessons +in the use of the quarterstaff. Let's put some thought to this +situation. If Ostrander here was able to find us, somebody else would, +too." + +Isobel licked the side of her mouth. "He was probably following me. +Remember, I told you Homer?" + +Kenny said, "If he had anyone with him, he'd have brought them along +to cover him. You've got to give him credit for bravery, taking on the +whole bunch of us by himself." + +"Um-m-m," Homer said. "I wish he was with us instead of against us." + +Jake Armstrong said, "Well, this solves one problem." + +They looked at him. + +He said, "Just as sure as sure, he's got a car parked somewhere. A car +with some sort of United States or Reunited Nations emblem on it." + +"So what?" Kenny said. + +"So you've got to get out of town before the search for you _really_ +gets under way. With such a car, you can get past any roadblock that +might already be up between here and the Yoff airport." + +Elmer Allen had sunk to his knees and was searching the fallen C.I.A. +man. He came up with car keys and a wallet. + +Homer said to Jake Armstrong, "Why the Yoff airport?" + +"Our plane is there," Jake told him. "The one assigned Isobel, Cliff +and me by the AFAA. You're going to have to make time. Get somewhere +out in the ah, boondocks, where you can begin operations." + +Bey said thoughtfully, "He's right, Homer. Anybody against us, like +our friend here"--he nodded at Ostrander--"is going to try to get us +quick, before we can get the El Hassan movement under way. We've got +to get out of Dakar and into some area where they'll have their work +cut out trying to locate us." + +Homer Crawford accepted their council. "O.K., let's get going. Jake, +you'll stay in Dakar, and at first play innocent. As soon as possible, +take plane for Geneva. As soon as you're there, send out press +releases to all the news associations and the larger papers. Announce +yourself as Foreign Minister of El Hassan and demand that he be +recognized as the legal head of state of all North Africa." + +"Wow," Cliff Jackson said. + +"Then play it by ear," Homer finished. + +He turned to the others. "Bey, where'd you leave our two hover-lorries +when you came here to Dakar?" + +"Stashed away in the ruins of a former mansion in Timbuktu. Hired two +Songhai to watch them." + +"O.K. Cliff, you're the only one in European dress. Take this wallet +of Ostrander's. You'll drive the car. If we run into any roadblocks +between here and the Yoff airport, slow down a little and hold the +wallet out to show your supposed identification. They won't take the +time to check the photo. Bluff your way past, don't completely stop +the car." + +"What happens if they do stop us?" Cliff said worriedly. + +Kenny Ballalou said, "That'll be just too bad for them." + +Bey stooped and scooped up the fallen automatic of Fredric Ostrander +and tucked it into the voluminous folds of his native robe. "Here we +go again," he said. + + +III + +The man whose undercover name was Anton, landed at Gibraltar in a BEA +roco-jet, passed quickly through customs and immigration with his +Commonwealth passport and made his way into town. He checked with a +Bobby and found that he had a two-hour wait until the Mons Capa ferry +left for Tangier, and spent the time wandering up and down Main +Street, staring into the Indian shops with their tax-free cameras from +Common Europe, textiles from England, optical equipment from Japan, +and cheap souvenirs from everywhere. Gibraltar, the tourist's shopping +paradise. + +The trip between Gibraltar and Tangier takes approximately two hours. +If you've never made it before, you stand on deck and watch Spain +recede behind you, and Africa loom closer. This was where Hercules +supposedly threw up his Pillars, Gibraltar being the one on the +European shore. Those who have made the trip again and again, sit down +in the bar and enjoy the tax-free prices. The man named Anton stood on +the deck. He was African by birth, but he'd never been to Morocco +before. + +When he landed, he made the initial error of expecting the local +citizenry to speak Arabic. They didn't. Rif, a Berber tongue, was the +first language. The man called Anton had to speak French to make known +his needs. He took a Chico cab up from the port to the El Minza hotel, +immediately off the Plaza de France, the main square of the European +section. + +At the hotel entrance were two jet-black doormen attired in a +pseudo-Moroccan costume of red fez, voluminous pants and yellow +barusha slippers. They made no note of his complexion, there is no +color bar in the Islamic world. + +He had reservations at the desk. He left his passport there to go +through the standard routine, including being checked by the police, +had his bag sent up to his room and, a few minutes later, hands +nonchalantly in pockets, strolled along the Rue de Liberte toward the +casbah area of the medina. Up from the native section of town streamed +hordes of costumed Rifs, Arabs, Berbers of a dozen tribes, even an +occasional Blue Man. At least half the women still wore the haik and +veil, half the men the burnoose. Africa changes slowly, the man +called Anton admitted to himself all over again--so slowly. + +[Illustration] + +Down from the European section, which could have been a Californian +city, filtered every nation of the West, from every section of Common +Europe, the Americas, the Soviet Complex. If any city in the world is +a melting pot, it is Tangier, where Africa meets Europe and where East +meets West. + +He passed through the teaming Grand Zocco market, and through the +gates of the old city. He took Rue Singhalese, the only street in the +medina wide enough to accommodate a vehicle and went almost as far as +the Zocco Chico, once considered the most notorious square in the +world. + +For a moment the man called Anton stood before one of the Indian shops +and stared at the window's contents. Carved ivory statuettes from the +Far East, cameras from Japan, ebony figurines, chess sets of water +jade, gimcracks from everywhere. + +A Hindu stood in the doorway and rubbed his hands in a gesture so +stereotyped as to be ludicrous. "Sir, would you like to enter my shop? +I have amazing bargains." + +The man they called Anton entered. + +He looked about the shop, otherwise empty of customers. Vaguely, he +wondered if the other ever sold anything, and, if so, to whom. + +He said, "I was looking for an ivory elephant, from the East." + +The Indian's eyebrows rose. "A white elephant?" + +"A red elephant," the man called Anton said. + +"In here," the Hindu said evenly, and led the way to the rear. + +The rooms beyond were comfortable but not ostentatious. They passed +through a livingroom-study to an office beyond. The door was open and +the Indian merely gestured in the way of introduction, and then left. + +Kirill Menzhinsky, agent superior of the _Chrezvychainaya Komissiya_ +for North Africa, looked up from his desk, smiled his pleasure, came +to his feet and held out his hand. + +"Anton!" he said. "I've been expecting you." + +The man they called Anton smiled honestly and shook. "Kirill," he +said. "It's been a long time." + +The other motioned to a comfortable armchair, resumed his own seat. +"It's been a long time all right--almost five years. As I recall, I +was slung over your shoulder, and you were wading through those +confounded swamps. The ..." + +"The Everglades." + +"Yes." The heavy-set Russian espionage chief chuckled. "You are much +stronger than you look, Anton. As I recall, I ordered you to abandon +me." + +The wiry Negro grunted deprecation. "You were delirious from your +wound." + +The Russian came to his feet, turned his back and went to a small +improvised bar. He said, his voice low, "No, Anton, I wasn't +delirious. Perhaps a bit afraid, but then the baying of dogs is +disconcerting." + +The man they called Anton said, "It is all over now." + +The Russian returned and said, "A drink, Anton? As I recall you were +never the man to refuse a drink. Scotch, bourbon, vodka?" + +The other shrugged. "I believe in drinking the local product. What is +the beverage of Tangier?" + +Kirill Menzhinsky took up a full bottle the contents of which had a +greenish, somewhat _oily_ tinge. "Absinthe," he said. "Guaranteed to +turn your brains to mush if you take it long enough. What was the name +of that French painter...?" + +"Toulouse Lautrec," Anton supplied. "I thought the stuff was illegal +these days." He watched the other add water to the potent liqueur. + +The Russian chuckled. "Nothing is illegal in Tangier, my dear Anton, +except the Party." He laughed at his own joke and handed the other his +glass. He poured himself a jolt of vodka and returned to his chair. +"To the world revolution, Anton." + +The Negro saluted with his drink. "The revolution!" + +They drank. + +The Russian put down his glass and sighed. "I wish we were some place +in our own lands, Anton. Dinner, many drinks, perhaps some girls, eh?" + +Anton shrugged. "Another time, Kirill." + +"Yes. As it is, we should not be seen together. Nor, for that matter +should you even return here. The imperialists are not stupid. Very +possibly, American and Common Europe espionage agents know of this +headquarters. Not to speak of the Arab Union. I shall try to give you +the whole story and your assignment in this next half hour. Then you +should depart immediately." + + * * * * * + +The man they called Anton sipped his drink and relaxed in his chair. +He looked at his superior without comment. + +The Russian took another jolt of his water-clear drink. "Have you ever +heard of El Hassan?" + +The Negro thought a moment before saying, "Vaguely. Evidently an Arab, +or possibly a Tuareg. North African nationalist. No, that wouldn't be +the word, since he is international. At any rate, he seems to be +drawing a following in the Sahara and as far south as the Sudan. Backs +modernization and wants unity of all North Africa. Is he connected +with the Party?" + +The espionage chief was shaking his head. "That is the answer I +expected you to give, and is approximately what anyone else would have +said. Actually, there is no such person as El Hassan." + +Anton frowned. "I'm afraid you're wrong there, Kirill. I've heard +about him in half a dozen places. Very mysterious figure. Nobody seems +to have seen him, but word of his program is passed around from +Ethiopia to Mauretania." + +The Russian was shaking his head negatively. "That I know. It's a +rather strange story and one rather hard to believe if it wasn't for +the fact that one of my operatives was in on the, ah, _manufacturing_ +of this Saharan leader." + +"Manufacturing?" + +"I'll give you the details later. Were you acquainted with Abraham +Baker, the American comrade?" + +"Were? I _am_ acquainted with him. Abe is a friend as well as a +comrade." + +The Russian shook his head again. "Baker is dead, Anton. As you +possibly know, his assignment for the past few years has been with a +Reunited Nations African Development Project team, working in the +Sahara region. We planted him there expecting the time to arrive when +his services would be of considerable value. He worked with a five-man +team headed by a Dr. Homer Crawford and largely the team's task was to +eliminate bottlenecks that developed as the various modernization +projects spread over the desert." + +"But what's this got to do with _manufacturing_ El Hassan?" + +"I'm coming to that. Crawford's team, including Comrade Baker, usually +disguised themselves as Enaden smiths. As such, their opinions carried +little weight so in order to spread Reunited Nations propaganda, they +hit upon the idea of imputing everything they said to this great hero +of the desert, El Hassan." + +"I see," the man called Anton said. + +"Others, without knowing the origin of our El Hassan, took up the idea +and spread it. These nomads are at an ethnic level where they want a +hero to follow, a leader. So in order to give prestige to their +teachings the various organizations trying to advance North Africa +followed in Crawford's footsteps and attributed their teachings to +this mysterious El Hassan." + +"And it snowballed." + +"Correct! But the point is that after a time Crawford came around to +the belief that there should be a real El Hassan. That the primary +task at this point is to unite the area, to break down the old tribal +society and introduce the populace to the new world." + +"He's probably right," the man called Anton growled. He finished his +drink, got up from his chair and on his own went over and mixed +another. "More vodka?" he asked. + +"Please." The Russian held up his glass and went on talking. "Yes, +undoubtedly that is what is needed at this point. As it is, things are +trending toward a collapse. The imperialists, especially the +Americans, of course, wish to dominate the area for their capitalistic +purposes. The Arab Union wishes to take over _in toto_ and make it +part of their Islamic world. We, of course, cannot afford to let +either succeed." + +The Negro resumed his chair, sipped at his drink and listened, nodding +from time to time. + +Kirill Menzhinsky said, "As you know, Marx and Engels when founding +scientific socialism had no expectation that their followers would +first come to power in such backward countries as the Russia of 1917 +or the China of 1949. In fact, the establishment of true socialism +presupposes a highly developed industrial economy. It is simply +impossible without such an economy. When Lenin came to power in 1917, +as a result of the chaotic conditions that prevailed upon the military +collapse of Imperial Russia, he had no expectation of going it alone, +as the British would say. He expected immediate revolutions in such +countries as Germany and France and supposed that these more advanced +countries would then come to the assistance of the Soviet Union and +all would advance together to true socialism." + + * * * * * + +"It didn't work out that way," the man called Anton said dryly. + +"No, it didn't. And Lenin didn't live to see the steps that Stalin +would take in order to build the necessary industrial base in Russia." +Kirill Menzhinsky looked about the room, almost as though checking to +see if anyone else was listening. "Some of our more unorthodox +theoreticians are inclined to think that had Lenin survived the +assassin's bullet, that Comrade Stalin would have found it necessary +to, ah, liquidate him." + +The Russian cleared his throat. "Be that as it may, basic changes were +made in Marxist teachings to fit into Stalin's and later Khrushchev's +new concepts of the worker's State. And the Soviet Union muddled +through, as the British have it. Today, the Soviet Complex is as +powerful as the imperialist powers." + +The espionage leader knocked back his vodka with a practiced stiff +wristed motion. "Which brings us to the present and to North Africa." +He leaned forward in emphasis. "Comrade, if the past half century and +more has taught us anything, it is that you cannot establish socialism +in a really backward country. In short, communism is impossible in +North Africa at this point in her social evolution. Impossible. You +cannot go directly from tribal society to communism. At this historic +point, there is no place for the party's program in North Africa." + +The man called Anton scowled. + +The Russian waggled his hand negatively. "Yes, yes. I know. +Ultimately, the whole world must become Soviet. Only that way will we +achieve our eventual goal. But that is the long view. Realistically, +we must face it, as the Yankees say. This area is not at present soil +for our seed." + +"Things move fast these days," the Negro growled. "Industrialization, +education, can be a geometric progression." + +His superior nodded emphatically. "Of course, and as little as ten or +fifteen years from now, given progress at the present rate, perhaps +there will be opportunity for our movement. But now? No." + +The other said, "What has all this to do with El Hassan, or Crawford, +or whatever the man's name is?" + +"Yes," the Russian said. "Homer Crawford has evidently decided to +become El Hassan." + +"Ahhh." + +"Yes. At this point, in short, he is traveling in our direction. He is +doing what we realize must be done." + +"Then we will support him?" + +"Now we come to the point, Anton. Homer Crawford is not sympathetic to +the Party. To the contrary. Our suspicion, although we have no proof, +is that he killed Comrade Abe Baker, when Baker approached him on his +stand in regard to the Party's long view." + +"I see," the man called Anton said. + +The Russian nodded. "We must keep in some sort of touch with him--some +sort of control. If this El Hassan realizes his scheme and unites all +North Africa, sooner or later we will have to deal with him. If he is +antagonistic, we will have to find means to liquidate him." + +"And my assignment...?" + +"He will be gathering followers at this point. Many followers, most of +whom will be unknown to him. You will become one of them. Raise +yourself to as high a rank as you find possible in his group. Become a +close friend, if that can be done...." + +"He killed Abe Baker, eh?" + +The Russian frowned. "This is an assignment, Comrade Anton. There is +no room for personal feelings. You are a good field man. Among the +best. You are being given this task because the Party feels you are +the man for it. Possibly it is an assignment that will take years in +the fulfilling." + +The Negro said nothing. + +"Are there any questions?" + +"Do we have any other operatives working on this?" + +The frown became a scowl. "An Isobel Cunningham worked with Comrade +Baker, but it has been suspected that she has been drifting away from +the party these past few years. Her present status is unknown, but she +is believed to be with Homer Crawford and his followers. Possibly she +has defected. If so, you will take whatever measures seem necessary. +You will be working almost completely on your own, Comrade. You must +think on your feet, as the Yankees say." + +The man called Anton thought a moment. He said, "You'd better give me +as thorough a run down as possible on this Homer Crawford and his +immediate followers." + + * * * * * + +Menzhinsky settled back in his chair and took up a sheaf of papers +from the desk. "We have fairly complete dossiers. I'll give you the +highlights, then you can take these with you to your hotel to study at +leisure." + +He took up the first sheet. "Homer Crawford. Born in Detroit of +working-class parents. In his late teens interrupted his education to +come to Africa where he joined elements of the F.L.N. in Morocco and +took part in several forays into Algeria. Evidently was wounded and +invalided back to the States where he resumed his education. When he +came of military age, he joined the Marine Corps and spent the usual, +ah, hitch I believe they call it. Following that, he resumed his +education, finally taking a doctor's degree in sociology. He then +taught for a time until the Reunited Nations began its African +program. He accepted a position, and soon distinguished himself." + +The Russian took up another paper. "According to Comrade Baker's +reports, Crawford is an outstanding personality, dominating others, +even in spite of himself. He would make a top party man. Idealistic, +strong, clever, ruthless when ruthlessness is called for." + +Menzhinsky paused for a moment, finding words hard to come by from an +ultra-materialist. His tone went wry. "Comrade Baker also reported a +somewhat mystical quality in our friend Crawford. An ability in times +of emotional crisis to break down men's mental barriers against him. A +_force_ that ..." + +The other raised his eyebrows. + +His superior chuckled, ruefully. "Comrade Baker was evidently much +swayed by the man's personality. However, Anton, I might point out +that similar reports have come down to us of such a dominating +personality in Lenin, and, to a lesser degree, in Stalin." He twisted +his mouth. "History leads us to believe that such personalities as +Jesus and Mohammed seemed to have some power beyond that of we more +mundane types." + +"And the others?" Anton said. + +The Russian took up still another paper. "Elmer Allen. Born of small +farmer background on the outskirts of Kingston, on the island of +Jamaica. Managed to work his way through the University of Kingston +where he took a master's degree in sociology. At one time he was +thought to be Party material and was active in several organizations +that held social connotations, pacifist groups and so forth. However, +he was never induced to join the Party. Upon graduation, he +immediately took employment with the Reunited Nations and was assigned +to Homer Crawford's team. He is evidently in accord with Crawford's +aims as El Hassan." + +The espionage chief took up another sheet. "Bey-ag-Akhamouk ..." + +The other scowled. "That can't be an American name." + +"No. He is the only real African associated with Crawford at this +point. He was evidently born a Taureg and taken to the States at an +early age, three or four, by a missionary. At any rate, he was +educated at the University of Minnesota where he studied political +science. We have no record of where he stands politically, but Comrade +Baker rated him as an outstanding intuitive soldier. A veritable +genius in combat. He would seem to have had military experience +somewhere, but we have no record of it. Our Bey-ag-Akhamouk seems +somewhat of a mystery man." + +The Russian sorted out another sheet. "Kenneth Ballalou, born in +Louisiana, educated in Chicago. Another young man but evidently as +capable as the others. He seems to be quite a linguist. So far as we +know, he holds no political stand whatsoever." + +Menzhinsky pursed his lips before saying, "The Isobel Cunningham I +mentioned worked with the Africa for Africans Association with two +colleagues, a Jacob Armstrong and Clifford Jackson. It is possible +that these two, as well as Isobel Cunningham, have joined El Hassan. +If so, we will have to check further upon them, although I understand +Armstrong is rather elderly and hardly effective under the +circumstances." + +The man called Anton said evenly, "And this former comrade, Isobel +Cunningham, has evidently joined with Crawford even though he ... was +the cause of Abe Baker's death?" + +"Evidently." + +The Negro's eyes narrowed. + +The other said, "And evidently she is a most intelligent and +attractive young lady. We had rather high hopes for her formerly." + +The Negro party member came to his feet and gathered up the sheaf of +papers from the desk. "All right," he said. "Is there anything else?" + +The espionage chief shook his head. "You do not need a step by step +blueprint, Anton, that is why you have been chosen for this +assignment. You are strongly based in Party doctrine. You know what is +needed, we can trust you to carry on the Party's aims." After a pause, +the Russian added, "Without being diverted by personal feelings." + +Anton looked him in the face. "Of course," he said. + + * * * * * + +Fredric Ostrander was on the carpet. + +His chief said, "You seem to have conducted yourself rather +precipitately, Fred." + +Ostrander shrugged in irritation. "I didn't have time to consult +anyone. By pure luck, I spotted the Cunningham girl and since I knew +she had affiliated herself with Crawford, I followed her." + +The chief said dryly, "And tried to arrest the seven of them, all by +yourself." + +"I couldn't see anything else to do." + +The C.I.A. official said, "In the first place, we have no legal +jurisdiction here and you could have caused an international stink. +The Russkies would just love to bring something like this onto the +Reunited Nations floor. In the second place, you failed. How in the +world did you expect to take on that number of men, especially +Crawford and his team?" + +Ostrander flushed his irritation. "Next time ..." he began. + +His chief waved a hand negatively. "Let's hope there isn't going to be +next time, of this type." He took up a paper from his desk. "Here's +your new job, Fred. You're to locate this El Hassan and keep in +continual contact with him. If he meets with any sort of success at +all, and frankly our agency doubts that he will, you will attempt to +bring home to Crawford and his followers the fact that they are +Americans, and orientate them in the direction of the West. Above all, +you are to keep in touch with us and keep us informed on all +developments. Especially notify us if there is any sign that our El +Hassan is in communication with the Russkies or any other foreign +element." + +"Right," Ostrander said. + +His chief looked at him. "We're giving you this job, Fred, because +you're more up on it than anyone else. You're in at the beginning, so +to speak. Now, do you want me to assign you a couple of assistants?" + +"White men?" Ostrander said. + +His higher-up scowled. "You know you're the only Negro in our agency, +Fred." + +Fredric Ostrander, his voice still even, said, "That's too bad, +because anyone you assigned me who wasn't a Negro would be a hindrance +rather than an assistant." + +The other drummed his fingers on the table in irritation. He said +suddenly, "Fred, do you think I ought to do a report to Greater +Washington suggesting they take more Negro operatives into the +agency?" + +Ostrander said dryly, "You'd better if this department is going to get +much work done in Africa." He stood up. "I suppose that the sooner I +get onto the job, the better. Do you have any idea at all where +Crawford and his gang headed after they left me unconscious in that +filthy hut?" + +"No, we haven't the slightest idea of where they might be, other than +that they left your car abandoned at the Yoff airport." + +"Oh, great," Fredric Ostrander complained. "They've gone into hiding +in an area somewhat twice the size of the original fifty United +States." + +"Good luck," his chief said. + + * * * * * + +Rex Donaldson, formerly of Nassau in the British Bahamas, formerly of +the College of Anthropology, Oxford, now field man for the African +Department of the British Commonwealth working at expediting native +development, was taking time out for needed and unwonted relaxation. +In fact, he stretched out on his back in the most comfortable bed, in +the most comfortable hotel, in the Niger town of Mopti. His hands +were behind his head, and his scowling eyes were on the ceiling. + +He was a small, bent man, inordinately black even for the Sudan and +the loincloth costume he wore was ludicrous in the Westernized comfort +of the hotel room. He was attired for the bush and knew that it was +sheer laziness now that kept him from taking off for the Dogon country +of the Canton de Sangha where he was currently working to bring down +tribal prejudices against the coming of the schools. He had his work +cut out for him in the Dogon, the old men, the tribal elders they +called Hogons, instinctively knew that the coming of education meant +subversion of their institutions and the eventual loss of Hogon power. + +His portable communicator, sitting on the bedside table, buzzed and +the little man grumbled a profanity and swung his crooked legs around +to the floor. His eyebrows went up when he realized it was a priority +call which probably meant from London. + +He flicked the reception switch and a girl's face faded onto the +screen. She said, "A moment, Mr. Donaldson, Sir Winton wants you." + +"Right," Rex Donaldson said. Sir Winton, yet. Head of the African +Department. Other than photographs, Donaldson had never seen his +ultimate superior, not to mention speaking to him personally. + +The girl's face faded out and that of Sir Winton Brett-Homes faded in. +The heavy-set, heavy-faced Englishman looked down, obviously checking +something on his desk. He looked up again, said, "Rex Donaldson?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"I won't waste time on preliminaries, Donaldson. We've been +discussing, here, some of the disconcerting rumors coming out of your +section. Are you acquainted with this figure, El Hassan?" + +The black man's eyes widened. He said, cautiously, "I have heard a +good many stories and rumors." + +"Yes, of course. They have been filtering into this office for more +than a year. But thus far little that could be considered concrete has +developed." + +Rex Donaldson held his peace, waited for the other to go on. + +Sir Winton said impatiently, "Actually, we are still dealing with +rumors, but they are beginning to shape up. Evidently, this El Hassan +has finally begun to move." + +"Ahhh," the wiry little field man breathed. + +The florid faced Englishman said, "As we understand it, he wishes to +cut across tribal, national and geographic divisions in all North +Africa, wishes to unite the whole area from Sudan to the +Mediterranean." + +"Yes," Donaldson nodded. "That seems to be his program." + +Sir Winton said, "It has been decided that the interests of Her +Majesty's government and that of the Commonwealth hardly coincide with +such an attempt at this time. It would lead to chaos." + +"Ahhh," Donaldson said. + +Sir Winton wound it up, all but beaming. "Your instructions, then, +are to seek out this El Hassan and combat his efforts with whatever +means you find necessary. We consider you one of our most competent +operatives, Donaldson." + +Rex Donaldson said slowly, "You mean that he is to be stopped at all +cost?" + +The other cleared his throat. "You are given carte blanche, Donaldson. +You and our other operatives in the Sahara and Sudan. Stop El Hassan." + +Rex Donaldson said flatly, "You have just received my resignation, Sir +Winton." + +"What ... what!" + +"You heard me," Donaldson said. + +"But ... but what are you going to do?" The heavy face of the African +Department head was going a reddish-purple, which rather fascinated +Donaldson but he had no time to further contemplate the phenomenon. + +"I'm going to round up a few of my colleagues, of similar mind to my +own, and then I'm going to join El Hassan," the little man snapped. +"Good-bye, Sir Winton." + +He clicked the set off and then looked down at it. His dour face broke +into a rare grin. "Now there's an ambition I've had for donkey's +years," he said aloud. "To hang up on a really big mucky-muck." + + +IV + +Following the attack of the unidentified rocketcraft, El Hassan's +party was twice again nearly flushed by reconnoitering planes of +unknown origin. They weren't making the time they wanted. + +Beneath a projecting rock face over a gravel bottomed wadi, the two +hover-lorries were hidden, whilst a slow-moving helio-jet made +sweeping, high-altitude circlings above them. + +[Illustration] + +The six stared glumly upward. + +Cliff Jackson who was on the radio called out, "I just picked him up. +He's called in to Fort Lamy reporting no luck. His fuel's running +short and he'll be knocking off soon." + +Homer Crawford rapped, "What language?" + +"French," Cliff said, "but it's not his. I mean he's not French, just +using the language." + +Bey's face was as glum as any and there was a tic at the side of his +mouth. He said now, "We've got to come up with something. Sooner or +later one of them will spot us and this next time we won't have any +fantastic breaks like Homer being able to knock him off with a +Tommy-Noiseless. He'll drop a couple of neopalms and burn up a square +mile of desert including El Hassan and his whole crew." + +Homer looked at him. "Any ideas, Bey?" + +"No," the other growled. + +Homer Crawford said, "Any of the rest of you?" + +Isobel was frowning, bringing something back. "Why don't we travel at +night?" + +"And rest during the day?" Homer said. + +Kenny said, "Parking where? We just made it to this wadi. If we're +caught out in the dunes somewhere when one of those planes shows up, +we've had it. You couldn't hide a jackrabbit out there." + +But Bey and Homer Crawford were still looking at Isobel. + +She said, "I remember a story the Tuaregs used to tell about a raid +some of them made back during the French occupation. They stole four +hundred camels near Timbuktu one night and headed north. The French +weren't worried. The next morning, they simply sent out a couple of +aircraft to spot the Tuareg raiders and the camels. Like Kenny said, +you couldn't hide a jackrabbit in dune country. But there was nothing +to be seen. The French couldn't believe it, but they still weren't +really worried. After all a camel herd can travel only thirty or so +miles a day. So the next day the planes went out again, circling, +circling, but they still didn't spot the thieves and their loot, nor +the next day. Well, to shorten it, the Tuareg got their four hundred +camels all the way up to Spanish Rio de Oro where they sold them." + +She had their staring attention. "How?" Elmer blurted. + +"It was simple. They traveled all night and then, at dawn, buried the +camels and themselves in the sand and stayed there all day." + +Homer said, "I'm sold. Boys, I hope you're in physical trim because +there's going to be quite a bit of digging for the next few days." + +Cliff groaned. "Some Minister of the Treasury," he complained. "They +give him a shovel instead of a bankbook." + +Everyone laughed. + +Bey said, "Well, I suppose we stay here until nightfall." + +"Right," Homer said. "Whose turn is it to pull cook duty?" + +Isobel said menacingly, "I don't know whose turn it is, but I know I'm +going to do the cooking. After that slumgullion Kenny whipped up +yesterday, I'm a perpetual volunteer for the job of chef--strictly in +self-defense." + +"That was a cruel cut," Kenny protested, "however, I hereby relinquish +all my rights to cooking for this expedition." + +"And me!" + +"And me!" + +"O.K.," Homer said, "so Isobel is Minister of the Royal Kitchen." He +looked at Elmer Allen. "Which reminds me. You're our junior +theoretician. Are we a monarchy?" + +Elmer Allen scowled sourly and sat down, his back to the wadi wall. "I +wouldn't think so." + +Isobel went off to make coffee in the portable galley in the rear of +the second hovercraft. The others brought forth tobacco and squatted +or sat near the dour Jamaican. Years in the desert had taught them the +nomad's ability to relax completely given opportunity. + +"So if it's not a monarchy, what'll we call El Hassan?" Kenny +demanded. + +Elmer said slowly, thoughtfully, "We'll call him simply _El Hassan_. +Monarchies are of the past, and El Hassan is the voice of the future, +something new. We won't admit he's just a latter-day tyrant, an +opportunist seizing power because it's there crying to be seized. +Actually, El Hassan is in the tradition of Genghis Khan, Tamerlane, +or, more recently, Napoleon. But he's a modern version, and we're not +going to hang the old labels on him." + +Isobel had brought the coffee. "I think you're right," she said. + +"Sold," Homer agreed. "So we aren't a monarchy. We're a tyranny." His +face had begun by expressing amusement, but that fell off. He added, +"As a young sociologist, I never expected to wind up a literal +tyrant." + +Elmer Allen said, "Wait a minute. See if I can remember this. Comes +from Byron." He closed his eyes and recited: + + "The tyrant of the Chersonese + Was freedom's best and bravest friend. + That tyrant was Miltiades, + Oh that the present hour would lend + Another despot of the kind. + Such bonds as his were sure to bind." + +Isobel, pouring coffee, laughed and said, "Why Elmer, who'd ever dream +you read verse, not to speak of memorizing it, you old sourpuss." + +Elmer Allen's complexion was too dark to register a flush. + +Homer Crawford said, "Yeah, Miltiades. Seized power, whipped the +Athenians into shape to the point where they were able to take the +Persians at Marathon, which should have been impossible." He looked +around at the others, winding up with Elmer. "What happened to +Miltiades after Marathon and after the emergency was over?" + +Elmer looked down into his coffee. "I don't remember," he lied. + + * * * * * + +There was a clicking from the first hover-lorry, and Cliff Jackson put +down his coffee, groaned his resentment at fate, and made his way to +the vehicle and the radio there. + +Bey motioned with his head. "That's handy, our still being able to +tune in on the broadcasts the African Development Project makes to its +teams." + +Kenny said, "Not that what they've been saying is much in the way of +flattery." + +Bey said, "They seem to think we're somewhere in the vicinity of Bidon +Cinq." + +"That's what worries me," Homer growled. He raked his right hand back +through his short hair. "If they think we're in Southern Algeria, what +are these planes doing around here? We're hundreds of miles from Bidon +Cinq." + +Bey shot him an oblique glance. "That's easy. That plane that tried to +clobber us, and these others that have been trying to search us out, +aren't really Reunited Nations craft. They're someone else." + +They all looked at him. "Who?" Isobel said. + +"How should I know? It could be almost anybody with an iron in the +North African fire. The Soviet Complex? Very likely. The British +Commonwealth or the French Community? Why not? There're elements in +both that haven't really accepted giving up the old colonies and would +like to regain them in one way or the other. The Arab Union? Why +comment? Common Europe? Oh, Common Europe would love to have a free +hand exploiting North Africa." + +"You haven't mentioned the United States of the Americas," Elmer said +dryly. "I hope you haven't any prejudices in favor of the land of your +adoption, Mr. Minister of War." + +Bey shrugged. "I just hadn't got around to her. Admittedly with the +continued growth of the Soviet Complex and Common Europe, the States +have slipped from the supreme position they occupied immediately +following the Second War. The more power-happy elements are conscious +of the ultimate value of control of Africa and doubly conscious of the +danger of it falling into the hands of someone else. Oh, never fear, +those planes that have been pestering us might belong to anybody at +all." + +Cliff Jackson hurried back from his radio, his face anxious. "Listen," +he said. "That was a high priority flash, to all Reunited Nations +teams. The Arab Union has just taken Tamanrasset. They pushed two +columns out of Libya, evidently one from Ghat and one from further +north near Ghademes." + +Homer Crawford was on his feet, alert. "Well ... why?" + +Cliff had what amounted to accusation on his face. "Evidently, the El +Hassan rumors are spreading like wildfire. There've been more riots in +Mopti, and the Reunited Nations buildings in Adrar have been stormed +by mobs demonstrating for him. The Arab Union is moving in on the +excuse of protecting the country against El Hassan." + +Kenny Ballalou groaned, "They'll have half their Arab Legion in here +before the week's out." + +Cliff finished with, "The Reunited Nations is throwing a wingding. +Everybody running around accusing and threatening, and, as per usual, +getting nowhere." + +Homer Crawford's face was working in thought. He shook his head at +Kenny. "I think you're wrong. They won't send the whole Arab Legion +in. They'll be afraid to. They'll want to see first what everybody +else does. They know they can't stand up to a slugging match with any +of the really big powers. They'll stick it out for a while and watch +developments. We have, perhaps, two weeks in which to operate." + +"Operate?" Cliff demanded. "What do you mean, operate?" + +Homer's eyes snapped to him. "I mean to recapture Tamanrasset from the +Arab Union, seize the radio and television station there, and proclaim +El Hassan's regime." + +The big Californian's eyes bugged at him. "You mean the six of us? +There'll be ten thousand of them." + +"No," Homer said decisively. "Nothing like that number. Possibly a +thousand, if that many. Logistics simply doesn't allow a greater +number, not on such short notice. They've put a thousand or so of +their crack troops into the town. No more." + +Cliff wailed, "What's the difference between a thousand and twenty +thousand, so far as five men and a girl are concerned?" + +The rest were saying nothing, but following the debate. + +Crawford explained, not to just Cliff but to all of them. "Actually, +the Arab Union is doing part of our job for us. They've openly +declared that El Hassan is attempting to take over North Africa, that +he's raising the tribes. Well, good. We didn't have the facilities to +make the announcement ourselves. But now the whole world knows it." + + * * * * * + +"That's right," Elmer said, his face characteristically sullen. "Every +news agency in the world is playing up the El Hassan story. In a +matter of days, the most remote nomad encampment in the Sahara will +know of it, one way or the other." + +Homer Crawford was pacing, socking his right fist into the palm of the +left. "They've given us a rallying _raison d'etre_. These people might +be largely Moslem, especially in the north, but they have no love for +the Arab Union. For too long the slave raiders came down from the +northeast. Given time, Islam might have moved in on the whole of North +Africa. But not this way, not in military columns." + +He swung to Bey. "You worked over in the Teda country, before joining +my team, and speak the Sudanic dialects. Head for there, Bey. +Proclaim El Hassan. Organize a column. We'll rendezvous at Tamanrasset +in exactly two weeks." + +Bey growled, "How am I supposed to get to Faya?" + +"You'll have to work that out yourself. Tonight we'll drop you near In +Guezzam, they have one of the big solar pump, afforestation +developments there. You should be able to, ah, requisition a truck, or +possibly even a 'copter or aircraft. You're on your own, Bey." + +"Right." + +Homer spun to Kenny Ballalou. "You're the only one of us who gets +along in the dialect of Hassania. Get over to Nemadi country and raise +a column. There are no better scouts in the world. Two weeks from +today at Tamanrasset." + +"Got it. Drop me off tonight with Bey, we'll work together until we +liberate some transport." + +Bey said, "It might be worth while scouting in In Guezzam for a day or +two. We might pick up a couple of El Hassan followers to help us along +the way." + +"Use your judgment. Elmer!" + +Elmer groaned sourly, "I knew my time'd come." + +"Up into Chaambra country for you. Take the second lorry. You've got a +distance to go. Try to recruit former members of the French Camel +Corps. Promise just about anything, but only remember that one day +we'll have to keep the promises. El Hassan can't get the label of +phony hung on him." + +"Chaambra country," Elmer said. "Oh great. Arabs. I can just see what +luck I'm going to have rousing up Arabs to fight other Arabs, and me +with a complexion black as ..." + +Homer snapped at him, "They won't be following you, they'll be +following El Hassan ... or at least the El Hassan dream. Play up the +fact that the Arab Union is largely not of Africa but of the Middle +East. That they're invading the country to swipe the goats and violate +the women. Dig up all the old North African prejudices against the +Syrians and Egyptians, and the Saudi-Arabian slave traders. You'll +make out." + +Cliff said, nervously, "How about me, Homer?" + +Homer looked at him. Cliff Jackson, in spite of his fabulous build, +hadn't a fighting man's background. + +Homer grinned and said, "You'll work with me. We're going into Tuareg +country. Whenever occasion calls for it, whip off that shirt and go +strolling around with that overgrown chest of yours stuck out. The +Tuareg consider themselves the best physical specimens in the Sahara, +which they are. They admire masculine physique. You'll wow them." + +Cliff grumbled, "Sounds like vaudeville." + +Isobel said softly, "And me, El Hassan? What do I do?" + +Homer turned to her. "You're also part of headquarters staff. The +Tuareg women aren't dominated by their men. They still have a strong +element of descent in the matrilinear line and women aren't +second-class citizens. You'll work on pressuring them. Do you speak +Tamaheq?" + +"Of course." + +Homer Crawford looked up into the sky, swept it. The day was rapidly +coming to an end and nowhere does day become night so quickly as in +the ergs of the Sahara. + +"Let's get underway," Crawford said. "Time's a wastin'." + + * * * * * + +The range of the Ahaggar Tuareg was once known, under French +administration, as the Annexe du Hoggar, and was the most difficult +area ever subdued by French arms--if it was ever subdued. At the +battle of Tit on May 7, 1902 the Camel Corps, under Cottenest, broke +the combined military power of the Tuareg confederations, but this +meant no more than that the tribes and clans carried on nomadic +warfare in smaller units. + +The Ahaggar covers roughly an area the size of Pennsylvania, New York, +Virginia and Maryland combined, and supports a population of possibly +twelve thousand, which includes about forty-five hundred Tuareg, four +thousand Negro serf-slaves, and some thirty-five hundred scorned +sedentary Haratin workers. The balance of the population consists of a +handful of Enaden smiths and a small number of Arab shopkeepers in the +largest of the sedentary centers. Europeans and other whites are all +but unknown. + +It is the end of the world. + +Contrary to Hollywood-inspired belief, the Sahara does not consist +principally of sand dunes, although these, too, are present, and all +but impassable even to camels. Traffic, through the millennia, has +held to the endless stretches of gravelly plains and the rock ribbed +plateaus which cover most of the desert. The great sandy wastes or +ergs cover roughly a fifth of the entire Sahara, and possibly two +thirds of this area consists of the rolling sandy plains dotted +occasionally with dunes. The remaining third, or about one fifteenth +of the total Sahara, is characterized by the dune formations of +popular imagination. + +It was through this latter area that Homer Crawford, now with but one +hover-lorry, and accompanied by Isobel Cunningham and Clifford +Jackson, was heading. + +For although the spectacular major dune formations of the Great Erg +have defied wheeled vehicles since the era of the Carthaginian +chariots, and even the desert born camel limits his daily travel in +them to but a few miles, the modern hovercraft, atop its air cushion +jets, finds them of only passing difficulty to traverse. And the +hovercraft leaves no trail. + +Cliff Jackson scowled out at the identical scenery. Identical for more +than two hundred miles. For twice that distance, they had seen no +other life. No animal, no bird, not a sprig of cactus. This was the +Great Erg. + +He muttered, "This country is so dry even the morning dew is +dehydrated." + +Isobel laughed--she, too, had never experienced this country before. +"Why, Cliff, you made a funny!" + +They were sitting three across in the front seat, with Homer Crawford +at the wheel, and now all three were dressed in the costume of the Kel +Rela tribe of the Ahaggar Tuareg confederation. In the back of the +lorry were the jerry-cans of water and the supplies that meant the +difference between life and mummification from sun and heat. + +Cliff turned suddenly to the driver. "Why here?" he said bitterly. +"Why pick this for a base of operations? Why not Mopti? Ten thousand +Sudanese demonstrated for El Hassan there less than two weeks ago. +You'd have them in the palm of your hand." + +Homer didn't look up from his work at wheel, lift and acceleration +levers. To achieve maximum speed over the dunes, you worked constantly +at directing motion not only horizontally but vertically. + +He said, "And the twenty and one enemies of the El Hassan movement +would have had us in their palms. Our followers in Mopti can take care +of themselves. If this movement is ever going to be worth anything, +the local characters are going to have to get into the act. The +current big thing is not to allow El Hassan and his immediate troupe +to be eliminated before full activities can get under way. For the +present, we're hiding out until we can gather forces enough to free +Tamanrasset." + +"Hiding out is right," Cliff snorted. "I have a sneaking suspicion +that not only will they never find us, but we'll never find them +again." + +Homer laughed. "As a matter of fact, we're not so far right now from +Silet where there's a certain amount of water--if you dig for it--and +a certain amount of the yellowish grass and woody shrubs that the +bedouin depend on. With luck, we'll find the Amenokal of the Tuareg +there." + +"Amenokal?" + +"Paramount chief of the Ahaggar Tuaregs." + + * * * * * + +The dunes began to fall away and with the butt of his left hand +Crawford struck the acceleration lever. He could make more time now +when less of his attention was drawn to the ups and downs of erg +travel. + +Patches of thorny bush began to appear, and after a time a small herd +of gazelle were flushed and high tailed their way over the horizon. + +Isobel said, "Who is this Amenokal you mentioned?" + +"These are the real Tuareg, the comparatively untouched. They've got +three tribes, the Kel Rela, the Tegehe Mellet and the Taitoq, each +headed by a warrior clan which gives its name to the tribe as a whole. +The chief of the Kel Rela clan is also chief of the Kel Rela tribe and +automatically paramount chief, or Amenokal, of the whole +confederation. His name is Melchizedek." + +"Do you think you can win him over?" Isobel said. + +"He's a smart old boy. I had some dealings with him over a year ago. +Gave him a TV set in the way of a present, hoping he'd tune in on some +of our Reunited Nations propaganda. He's probably the most +conservative of the Tuareg leaders." + +Her eyebrows went up. "And you expect to bring him around to the most +liberal scheme to hit North Africa since Hannibal?" + +He looked at her from the side of his eyes and grinned. "Remember +Roosevelt, the American president?" + +"Hardly." + +"Well, you've read about him. He came into office at a time when the +country was going to economic pot by the minute. Some of the measures +he and his so-called brain trust took were immediately hailed by his +enemies as socialistic. In answer, Roosevelt told them that in times +of social stress the true conservative is a liberal, since to +preserve, you have to reform. If Roosevelt hadn't done the things he +did, back in the 1930s, you probably would have seen some _real_ +changes in the American socio-economic system. Roosevelt didn't +undermine the social system of the time, he preserved it." + +"Then, according to you, Roosevelt was a conservative," she said +mockingly. + +Crawford laughed. "I'll go even further," he said. "When social +changes are pending and for whatever reason are not brought about, +then reaction is the inevitable alternative. At such a time then--when +sweeping socio-economic change is called for--any reform measures +proposed are concealed measures of reaction, since they tend to +maintain the _status quo_." + +"Holy Mackerel," Cliff protested. "Accept that and Roosevelt was not +only not a liberal, but a reactionary. Stop tearing down my childhood +heroes." + +Isobel said, "Let's get back to this Amenokal guy. You think he's +smart enough to see his only chance is in going along with ..." + +Homer Crawford pointed ahead and a little to the right. "We'll soon +find out. This is a favorite encampment of his. With luck, he'll be +there. If we can win him over, we've come a long way." + +"And if we can't?" Isobel said, her eyebrows raised again. + +"Then it's unfortunate that there are only three of us," Homer said +simply, without looking at her. + +There were possibly no more than a hundred Tuareg in all in the nomad +encampment of goat leather tents when the solar powered hovercraft +drew up. + +[Illustration] + +When the air cushion vehicle stopped before the largest tent, Crawford +said beneath his breath, "The Amenokal is here, all right. Cliff, +watch your teguelmoust. If any of these people see more than your +eyes, your standing has dropped to a contemptible zero." + +The husky Californian secured the lightweight cotton, combination veil +and turban well up over his face. Earlier, Crawford had shown him how +to wind the ten-foot long, indigo-blue cloth around the head and +features. + +Isobel, of course, was unveiled, Tuareg fashion, and wore baggy +trousers of black cotton held in place with a braided leather cord by +way of drawstring and a gandoura upper-garment consisting of a huge +rectangle of cloth some seven to eight feet square and folded over on +itself with the free corners sewed together so as to leave bottom and +most of both sides open. A V-shaped opening for her head and neck was +cut out of a fold at the top, and a large patch had been sewed inside +to make a pocket beneath her left breast. She wasn't exactly a +Parisian fashion plate. + +Even as they stepped down from the hovercraft, immediately after it +had drifted to rest on the ground, an elderly man came from the tent +entrance. + +He looked at them for a moment, then rested his eyes exclusively on +Homer Crawford. + +"_La Bas_, El Hassan," he said through the cloth that covered his +mouth. + +Homer Crawford was taken aback, but covered the fact. "There is no +evil," he repeated the traditional greeting. "But why do you name me +El Hassan?" + +A dozen veiled desert men, all with the Tuareg sword, several with +modern rifles, had formed behind the Tuareg chief. + +Melchizedek made a movement of hand to mouth, in a universal gesture +of amusement. "Ah, El Hassan," he said, "you forget you left me the +magical instrument of the Roumi." + +Crawford was mystified, but he stood in silence. What the Tuareg +paramount chief said now made considerable difference. As he recalled +his former encounter with the Ahaggar leader, the other had been +neither friendly nor antagonistic to the Reunited Nations team +Crawford had headed in their role as itinerant desert smiths. + +The Amenokal said, "Enter then my tent, El Hassan, and meet my +chieftains. We would confer with you." + +The first obstacle was cleared. Subduing a sigh of relief, Homer +Crawford turned to Cliff. "This, O Amenokal of all the Ahaggar, is +Clif ben Jackson, my Vizier of Finance." + +The Amenokal bowed his head slightly, said, "_La Bas_." + +Cliff could go that far in the Tuareg tongue. He said, "_La Bas_." + +The Amenokal said, looking at Isobel, "I hear that in the lands of the +Roumi women are permitted in the higher councils." + +Homer said steadily, "This I have also been amazed to hear. However, +it is fitting that my followers remain here while El Hassan discusses +matters of the highest importance with the Amenokal and his +chieftains. This is the Sitt Izubahil, high in the councils of her +people due to the great knowledge she has gained by attending the new +schools which dispense rare wisdom, as all men know." + +The Amenokal courteously said, "_La Bas_," but Isobel held her peace +in decency amongst men of chieftain rank. + +When Homer and the Tuaregs had disappeared into the tent, she said to +Cliff, "Stick by the car, I'm going to circulate among the women. +Women are women everywhere. I'll pick up the gossip, possibly get +something Homer will miss in there." + +A group of Tuareg women and children, the latter stark naked, had +gathered to gape at the strangers. Isobel moved toward them, began +immediately breaking the ice. + +Under his breath, Cliff muttered, "What a gal. Give her a few hours +and she'll form a Lady's Aid branch, or a bridge club, and where else +is El Hassan going to pick up so much inside information?" + + * * * * * + +The tent, which was of the highly considered mouflon skins, was +mounted on a wooden frame which consisted of two uprights with a +horizontal member laid across their tops. The tent covering was +stretched over this framework with its back and sides pegged down and +the front, which faced south, was left open. It was ten feet deep, +fifteen feet wide and five feet high in the middle. + +The men entered and filed to the right of the structure where +sheepskins and rugs provided seating. The women and children, who +abided ordinarily to the left side, had vanished for this gathering of +the great. + +They sat for a time and sipped at green tea, syrup sweet with mint and +sugar, the tiny cups held under the teguelmoust so as not to obscenely +reveal the mouth of the drinker. + +Finally, Homer Crawford said, "You spoke of the magical instrument of +the Roumi which I gave you as gift, O Amenokal, and named me El +Hassan." + +Several of the Tuareg chuckled beneath their veils but Crawford could +read neither warmth nor antagonism in their amusement. + +The elderly Melchizedek nodded. "At first we were bewildered, O El +Hassan, but then my sister's son, Guemama, fated perhaps one day to +become chief of the Kel Rela and Amenokal of all the Ahaggar, recalled +the tales told by the storytellers at the fire in the long evenings." + +Crawford looked at him politely. + +Melchizedek's laugh was gentle. "But each man has heard, in his time, +O El Hassan, of the ancient Calif Haroun El Raschid of Baghdad." + +Crawford's mind went into high gear, as the story began to come back +to him. From second into high gear, and he could have blessed these +bedouin for handing him a piece of publicity gobblydygook worthy of +Fifth Avenue's top agency. + +He held up a hand as though in amusement at being discovered. +"Wallahi, O Amenokal, you have discovered my secret. For many months I +have crossed the deserts disguised as a common Enaden smith to seek +out all the people and to learn their wishes and their needs." + +"Even as Haroun el Raschid in the far past," one of the subchiefs +muttered in satisfaction, "used to disguise himself as a lowborn +dragoman and wander the streets of Baghdad." + +"But how did you recognize me?" Homer said. + +The Amenokal said in reproof, "But verily, your name is on all lips. +The Roumi have branded you common criminal. You are to be seized on +sight and great reward will be given he who delivers you to the +authorities." He spoke without inflection, and Crawford could read +neither support nor animosity--nor greed for the reward offered by El +Hassan's enemies. He gathered the impression that the Tuareg chief was +playing his cards close to his chest. + +"And what else do they say?" + +The elderly Melchizedek went on slowly, "They say that El Hassan is in +truth a renegade citizen of a far away Roumi land and that he attempts +to build a great confederation in North Africa for his own gain." + +One of the others chuckled and said, "The Roumi on the magical +instrument are indeed great liars as all can see." + +Homer looked at him questioningly. + +The other said, laughing, "Who has ever heard of a black Roumi? And +you, O El Hassan, are as black as a Bela." + +The Amenokal finished off the mystery of Crawford's recognition. +"Know, El Hassan, that whilst you were here before, one of the slaves +that served you for pay shamelessly looked upon your face in the +privacy of your tent. It was this slave who recognized your face when +the Roumi presented it on the magic instrument, calling upon all men +to see you and to brand you enemy." + +So that was it. The Reunited Nations, and probably all the rest, had +used their radio and TV stations to broadcast a warning and offer a +reward for Homer and his followers. Old Sven was losing no time. This +wasn't so good. A Tuareg owes allegiance to no one beyond clan, tribe +and confederation. All others are outside the pale and any advantage, +monetary or otherwise, to be gained by exploiting a stranger is well +within desert mores. + +He might as well bring it to the point. Crawford said evenly, "And I +have entered your camp alone except for two followers. Your people are +many. So why, O Amenokal, have you not seized me for the reward the +Roumi offer?" + + * * * * * + +There was a moment of silence and Homer Crawford sensed that the +sub-chieftains had leaned forward in anticipation, waiting for their +leader's words. Possibly they, too, could not understand. + +The Tuareg leader finished his tea. + +"Because, El Hassan, we yet have not heard the message which the Roumi +are so anxious that you not be allowed to bring the men of the desert. +The Roumi are great liars, and great thieves, as each man knows. In +the memory of those still living, they have stolen of the bedouin and +robbed him of land and wealth. So now we would hear of what you say, +before we decide." + +"Spoken like a true Amenokal, a veritable Suliman ben Davud," Homer +said with a heartiness he could only partly feel. At least they were +open to persuasion. + +For a long moment he stared down at the rug upon which they sat, as +though deep in contemplation. + +"These words I speak will be truly difficult to hear and accept, O men +of the veil," he said at last. "For I speak of great change, and no +man loves change in the way of his life." + +"Speak, El Hassan," Melchizedek said flatly. "Great change is +everywhere upon us, as each man knows, and none can tell how to +maintain the ways of our fathers." + +"We can fight," one of the younger men growled. + +The Amenokal turned to him and grunted scorn. "And would you fight +against the weapons of the djinn and afrit, O Guemama? Know that in my +youth I was distant witness to the explosion of a great weapon which +the accursed Franzawi discharged south of Reggan. Know, that this +single explosion, my sister's son, could with ease have destroyed the +total of all the tribesmen of the Ahaggar, had they been gathered." + +"And the Roumi have many such weapons," Crawford added gently. + +The eyes of the tribal headmen came back to him. + +"As each man knows," Crawford continued, "change is upon the world. No +matter how strongly one wills to continue the traditions of his +fathers, change is upon us all. And he who would press against the +sand storm, rather than drifting with it, lasts not long." + +One of the subchiefs growled, "We Tuareg love not change, El Hassan." + +Crawford turned to him. "That is why I and my viziers have spent long +hours in _ekhwan_, in great council, devoted to the problems of the +Tuareg and how they can best fit into the new Africa that everywhere +awakes." + +They stirred in interest now. The Tuareg, once the Scourge of the +Sahara, the Sons of Shaitan and the Forgotten of Allah, to the Arab, +Teda, Moroccan and other fellow inhabitants of North Africa, were of +recent decades developing a tribal complex. Robbed of their +nomadic-bandit way of life by first the French Camel Corps and later +by the efforts of the Reunited Nations, they were rapidly descending +into a condition of poverty and defensive bewilderment. Not only were +large numbers of former bedouin drifting to the area's sedentary +centers, an act beyond contempt within the memory of the elders, but +the best elements of the clans were often deserting Tuareg country +completely and defecting to the new industrial centers, the dam +projects, the afforestation projects, the new oases irrigated with the +solar-powered pumps. + +"Speak, El Hassan," the Amenokal ordered. And unconsciously, he, too, +leaned forward, as did his subchiefs. The Ahaggar Tuareg were reaching +for straws, unconsciously seeking shoulders upon which to lay their +unsolvable problems. + +"Let me, O chiefs of the Tuareg, tell of a once strong tribe of +warriors and nomads who lived in the far country in which I was born," +Crawford said. The desert man loves a story, a parable, a tale of the +strong men of yesteryear. + +Melchizedek clapped his hands in summons and when a slave appeared, +called for _narghileh_ water pipes. When all had been supplied, they +relaxed, bits in mouths and looked again at Homer Crawford. + +"They were called," he intoned, "the Cheyenne. The Northern Cheyenne, +for they had a sister tribe to the South. And on all the plains of +this great land, a land, verily, as large as all that over which the +Tuareg confederations now roam, they were the greatest huntsmen, the +greatest warriors. All feared them. They were the lords of all." + +"Ai," breathed one of the older men. "As were the Tuareg before the +coming of the cursed Franzawi and the other Nazrani." + +"But in time," Crawford pursued, "came the new ways to the plains, and +these men who lived largely by the chase began to see the lands fenced +in for farmers, began to see large cities erected on what were once +tribal areas, and to see the iron railroads of the new ways begin to +spread out over the whole of the territory which once was roamed only +by the Cheyennes and such nomadic tribes." + +"Ai," a muffled mouth ejected. + +Homer Crawford looked at the younger Targui, Guemama, the Amenokal's +nephew. "And so," he said, "they fought." + +"Wallahi!" Guemama breathed. + +Homer Crawford looked about the circle. "Never has tribe fought as did +the Cheyenne. Never has the world seen such warriors, with the +exception, of course, of the Ahaggar Tuareg. Never were such raids, +never such bravery, never such heroic deeds as were performed by the +warriors of the Cheyennes and their women, and their old people and +their children. Over and over they defeated the cavalry and the +infantry of the newcomers who would change the old ways and bring the +new to the lands of the Cheyennes." + +The bedouin were staring in fascination, their water pipes forgotten. + +"And then...?" the Amenokal demanded. + +"The new ways taught the enemy how to make guns, and artillery, and +finally Gatling guns, which today we call machine guns. And once a +brave warrior might prevail against a common man armed with the +weapons of the new ways, and even twice he might. But the numbers of +the followers of the new ways are as the sands of the Great Erg and in +time bravery means nothing." + +"It is even so," someone growled. "They are as the sands of the erg, +and they have the weapons of the djinn, as each man knows." + +"And what happened in the end, O El Hassan?" + +His eyes swept them all. "They perished," Homer said. "Today in all +the land where once the Cheyenne pursued the game there is but a +handful of the tribe alive. And they have become nothing people, no +longer warriors, no longer nomads, and they are scorned by all for +they are poor, poor, poor. Poor in mind and spirits, and in property +and they have not been able to adjust to the ways of the new world." + +Air went out of the lungs of the assembled Tuareg. + +The Amenokal looked at him. "This is verily the truth, El Hassan?" + +"My head upon it," Crawford said. + +"And why do you tell us of these Cheyenne, these great warriors of the +plains of the land of your birth? The story fails to bring joy to +hearts already heavy with the troubles of the Tuareg." + +It was time to play the joker. + +Crawford said carefully, "Because there was no need, O Amenokal of all +the Ahaggar, for the Cheyenne to disappear before the sandstorm of the +future. They could have ridden before it and today occupy a position +of honor and affluence in their former land." + +They stared at him. + +"And give up the old ways?" Guemama demanded. "Become no longer +nomads, no longer honorable warriors, but serfs, slaves, working with +one's hands upon the land and with the oil-dirty machines of the +Roumi?" + +The chiefs muttered angrily. + +Crawford said hurriedly, "No! Never! In our great conferences, my +viziers and I decided that the Tuareg could never so change. The +Tuareg must die, as did the Northern Cheyenne before he would become a +city dweller, a worker of the land." + +"Bismillah!" someone muttered. + +"Too often," Crawford explained, "do the bringers of these things of +the future, be they Roumi or others, fail to utilize the potential +services of the people of the lands they over-sweep." + +"I do not understand you, El Hassan," Melchizedek grumbled. "There is +no room for the Tuareg in this new world of bringing trees to the +desert, of the great trucks which speed across the erg a score of time +the pace of a _hejin_ racing camel, of larger and ever larger oases +with their great towns, their schools, their new industries. If the +Tuareg remains Tuareg, he cannot fit into this new world, it destroys +the old traditions, the old way which is the Tuareg way." + +Homer Crawford now turned on the pressure. His voice took on overtones +of the positive, his personality seemed to reach out and seize them, +and even his physical stature seemed to grow. + +"Some indeed of the ways of the bedouin must go," he entoned, "but the +Tuareg will survive under my leadership. A people who have throve a +millennium and more in the great wastes of the Sahara have strong +survival characteristics and will blossom, not die, in my new world. +Know, O Melchizedek, that it has been decided that the Ahaggar Tuareg +will be the heart of my Desert Legion. In times of conflict, armed +with the new arms, and riding the new vehicles, they will adapt their +old methods of warfare to this new age. In times of peace they will +patrol the new forests, watching for fire and other disaster, they +will become herdsmen of the new herds and be the police and rescue +forces of this wide area. As the Cheyennes of the olden times of the +land of my birth could have become herdsmen and forest rangers and +have performed similar tasks had they been shown the way." + +Homer Crawford let his eyes go from one of them to the next, and his +personality continued to dominate them. + +The Amenokal ran his thin, aged hand through the length of his white +beard beneath his teguelmoust and contemplated this stranger come out +of the ergs to lead his people to still greater changes than those +they had thus far rebelled against. + + * * * * * + +Crawford realized that the Targui was divided in opinion and inwardly +the American was in a cold sweat. But his voice registered only +supreme confidence. "Under my banner, all North Africa will be welded +into one. And all the products of the land will be available in +profusion to my faithful followers. The finest wheat for cous cous +from Algeria and Tunis, the finest dates and fruits from the oases to +the north, the manufactured products of the factories of Dakar and +Casablanca. For Africa has always been a poor land but will become a +rich one with the new machines and techniques that I will bring." + +The Amenokal raised a hand to stem the tide of oratory. "And what do +you ask of us now, El Hassan?" + +Instead of to the older man, Crawford turned his eyes to the face of +Guemama, the leader of the young clansmen. "Now my people are +gathering to establish the new rule. Teda from the east, Chaambra from +the north, Sudanese from the south, Nemadi, Moors and Rifs from the +west. We rendezvous in ten days from now at Tamanrasset where the Arab +Legion dogs have seized the city as they wish to seize all the lands +of the Sahara and Sudan for the corrupt Arab Union politicians." + +Crawford came to his feet. His voice took on an edge of command. "You +will address your scouts and warriors and each will ride off on the +swiftest camels at your command to raise the Tuareg tribes. And the +clans of the Kel Rela will unite with the Taitoq and the Tegehe Mellet +in a great harka at this point and we will ride together to sweep the +Arab Legion from the lands of El Hassan." + +Guemama was on his feet, too. "Bilhana!" he roared. "With joy." + +The others were arising in excitement, all but Melchizedek, who still +stroked his gray streaked beard beneath his teguelmoust. The Amenokal +had seen much of desert war in his day and knew the horror of the new +weapons possessed by the crack troops of the Arab Legion. + +But his aged shoulders shrugged against the inevitable. + +Crawford said, the ring of authority in his voice. "What does the +Amenokal of all the Ahaggar say?" He had no intention of antagonizing +the Tuareg chief by going over his head and directly to the people. + +"Thou art El Hassan," Melchizedek said, his voice low, "and +undoubtedly it is fated that the Tuareg follow you, for verily there +is no way else to go, as each man knows." + +"Wallahi!" Guemama crowed jubilantly. + +[Illustration] + + +V + +Guemama, nephew of Melchizedek the Amenokal of the Ahaggar Tuareg +confederation and fighting chief of the Kel Rela clan of the Kel Rela +tribe, brought his Hejin racing camel to an abrupt halt with a smack +of his mish'ab camel stick. He barked, "_Adar-ya-yan_," in command to +bring it to its knees, and slid to the ground before his mount had +groaned its rocking way to the sand. + +The Tarqui was jubilant. His dark eyes sparked above his teguelmoust +veil and he presented himself before Homer Crawford with the elan of a +Napoleonic cavalryman before his emperor. Were red leather fil fil +boots capable of producing a clicking of heels, that sound would have +rung. + +Crawford said with dignity, "Aselamu, Aleikum, Guemama. Greeting to +you." + +"Salaam Aleikum," the tribesman got out breathlessly. "Your message +spreads, O El Hassan. My men ride to eastward and westward and never a +tent from here to Silet, from In Guezzam to Timissao but knows that El +Hassan calls. The Taitoq and the Tegehe Mellet ride!" + +Homer Crawford was standing before the hovercraft. The Amenokal's +tribesmen had set up two large goat leather tents for his use and the +three Americans had largely withdrawn to their shelter. Crawford was +aware of the dangers of familiarity. + +Cliff Jackson, who as usual had been monitoring the radio, came from +the hover-lorry and growled, "What's he saying?" + +"The tribesmen are gathering as per instructions," Homer said in +English. + +Jackson grunted, somewhat self-conscious of the Targui's admiring +gaze. The Tuareg is the handsomest physical specimen of North Africa, +often going to six foot of wiry manhood, but there was nothing in all +the Sahara to rival the build of Homer Crawford, not to speak of the +giant Cliff Jackson. + +Crawford turned back to the Tuareg chieftain. "You please me well, O +Guemama. Know that I have been in conference with my viziers on the +Roumi device which enables one to speak great distances and that we +have decided that you are to head all the fighting clans of the +Ahaggar, and that you will ride at the left hand of El Hassan, as +shield on shoulder rides." + +The Targui, overwhelmed, made adequate pledges of fidelity, flowering +words of thanks, and then hurried off to inform his fellow tribesmen +of his appointment. + +Isobel emerged from her tent. She looked at Homer obliquely, the sides +of her mouth turning down. "As shield on shoulder rides," she +translated from the Tamaheq Berber tongue into English. "Hm-m-m." She +cast her eyes upward in memory. "You aren't plagiarizing Kipling, are +you?" + +Crawford grinned at her. "These people like a well turned phrase." + +"And who could turn them better than Rudyard?" she said. Her voice +dropped the bantering tone. "What's this bit about making Guemama +war-chief of the Tuareg? Isn't he on the young and enthusiastic +side?" + +Cliff scowled. "You mean that youngster? Why he can't be more than in +his early twenties." + +Crawford was looking after the young Targui who was disappearing into +his uncle's tent on the far side of the rapidly growing encampment. + +"You mean the age of Napoleon in the Italian campaign, or Alexander at +Issus?" he asked. Isobel began to respond to that, but he shook his +head. "He's the Amenokal's nephew, and traditionally would probably +get the position anyway. He's the most popular of the young tribesmen, +and it's going to be they who do the fighting. Having the appointment +come from El Hassan, and at this early point, will just bind him +closer. Besides that, he's a natural born warrior. Typical. +Enthusiastic, bold, brave and with the military mind." + +"What's a military mind?" Cliff said. + +"He can take off his shirt without unbuttoning his collar," Homer told +him. + +"Very funny," Cliff grumbled. + +Isobel turned to the big Californian. "What's on the radio, Cliff?" + +"Let's go get a cup of coffee," he said. "All hellzapoppin." + + * * * * * + +They went into the larger of the two Tuareg tents, and Isobel poured +water from a girba into the coffee pot which she placed on a heat +unit, flicking its switch. She said sarcastically, from the side of +her mouth, "A message, O El Hassan, from the Department of Logistics, +subdepartment Commissary of Headquarters of the Commander in Chief. +Unless you get around to capturing some supplies in the near future, +your food is going to be prepared over a camel dung fire. This heat +unit is fading out on me." + +"Don't bother me with trivialities," Homer told her. "I've got _big_ +things on my mind." + +She looked at him suspiciously. "Hm-m-m. Such as what?" + +"Such as whether to put my face on the postage stamps profile or +full." + +She said, under her breath, "I shoulda known. Already, delusions of +grandeur." + +"Holy Mackerel," Cliff protested. "Aren't we ever serious around this +place? You two will wind up gagging with the firing squad." + +Crawford chuckled softly but let his face go serious. "Sorry, Cliff. +What's on your mind?" + +Cliff said impatiently, "From the radio reports, the Arab Union is +consolidating its position. El Hassan is being discredited by the +minute. Your followers were in control for a time in Mopti and Bamako, +but they're falling away because of lack of direction. The best way I +can put reports together, the Reunited Nations is in complete +confusion. Everybody accusing everybody of double-dealing." + +Isobel said dryly, "Any other good news?" + +Cliff said glumly, "Rumors, rumors, rumors. Half the marabouts in +North Africa are proclaiming a jihad in support of the Pan-Islam +program of the Arab Union. Listen, Homer, we've got to get the +backing of the Moslem leaders." + +Homer Crawford grunted. "We need Islam in this part of the world like +we need a hole in the head. That's one of the things already wrong +with North Africa." + +"What's wrong with Islam? It was probably the most dynamic religion +ever to sweep the world." + +"_Was_ is right," Crawford growled, now on one of his favorite peeve +subjects. "The Moslem religion exploded out of Arabia with some new +concepts that set the world in ferment from India to Southern France. +For all practical purposes Islam _invented_ science. Sure, the Greeks +had logic and the Romans had engineering--without applying the +Greek-style logic. But the Arabs amalgamated the two concepts to yield +experimental science. They were able to take the intellectual products +of a dozen cultures and wield them into one. For a hundred years or so +it looked as though they had something." + +When he hesitated for a moment, Isobel said, questioningly, "And ..." + +"And they couldn't get away from that Q'ran of theirs. They took it +seriously. They started off in their big universities, such as those +at Fez, being the greatest scientists and scholars the world had ever +seen. But the fundamentalists won out, and in a couple of hundred +years the only thing being taught at Fez was the Q'ran. To even +suggest that all necessary information isn't contained therein, is +enough to have you clobbered. Islam became the most reactionary force +to suppress progress in the civilized world. In fact, by this period +in world history, we don't even think of the Moslem world as +particularly civilized." + +Cliff said defensively, "The Bible doesn't encourage original thinking +either. A fundamentalist ..." + +"Sure," Crawford interrupted. "Those elements who take the Bible the +way Islam took the Q'ran wind up in the same rut. But _as a whole_, +Europe was sparked enough by the original Islamic explosion that the +Renaissance resulted, with what world results we all know. Be ..." + + * * * * * + +There was a roar of confusion outside. A blasting of guns, a shrieking +of _Ul-Ul-Ul-Allah Akbar!_ + +Crawford came to his feet unhappily. "Another contingent of Tuareg," +he said. "I'll have to give them a quick welcoming to the colors +speech." + +The guns outside continued their booming. + +"Confound it," he growled, "I wish I could break them of that habit of +blasting away their ammunition. They'll have better targets before the +week is out." + +He pushed open the tent flap and, followed by Isobel and Cliff, +emerged into the stretch of clearing between his tents and the +hovercraft, and the growing Tuareg encampment. His diagnosis had been +correct. A contingent of possibly two score Tuareg camelmen had come +a-galloping up, shaking rifles above their heads in a small scale +gymhana, or fantasia as the Moors called them. + +"At least it's a larger group than usual," Cliff said from behind. +"But at this rate, it'll still take a month for us to equal the Arab +Legion in Tamanrasset." He added in disgust, "And look at this bunch +of ragamuffins. Half of them are carrying muzzleloaders." + +The booming muskets and the cracking rifles suddenly began to fall off +in intensity and the camelmen and the hordes of Tuareg women and naked +children who had swarmed from the tents to greet them were falling +silent. Here and there a hand pointed upward. + +Homer, Cliff and Isobel swung their own eyes up to the sky in dreaded +anticipation. The hover-lorry was camouflaged to blend in with the +sands and rock outcroppings of this area, but it was possible that an +aircraft might have determined that this was El Hassan's base, +possibly through some act of a traitor, in which case ... + +They found the spot in the sky that the tribesmen were pointing out. +It seemed to move slowly for a military craft, but for that matter it +might be a helio-jet and considerably more dangerous, so far as they +being spotted was concerned, than a fast moving fighter. + +[Illustration] + +Guemama, was barking to his men to take cover. Two days before +Crawford had checked out several of the more bright-eyed on the flac +rifle and now three of them ran to where it was set up at a high +point. + +But hardly had the confused milling got under way than it fell off +again. Movement stopped, and the Tuareg faced the approaching dot in +the sky. + +"Djinn...!" + +"Afrit...!" + +Cliff had darted back into the tent, now he emerged with binoculars. + +"What the devil is it?" Crawford snapped. Desert trained eyes were +evidently considerably more effective than his own. He couldn't see +what the tribesmen were gaping at. + +"It's the smallest heliohopper _I've_ ever seen," Cliff snorted. "It's +so small practically all you can see are the rotors and the passenger. +He doesn't even look as though he's got a seat." + +Guemama came hurrying up, his eyes wide beneath his teguelmoust. "El +Hassan! A witchman ... come out of the sky!" + +Homer said evenly, "It is nothing. Only post men ready to obey my +commands." + +Guemama hesitated as though to waver out another protest, but then +spun and hurried off--military-like, glad to have an order to obey to +keep his mind from the impossible. + +"I'm beginning to have a sneaking suspicion--" Crawford began without +finishing. "Come on Isobel, Cliff. We're going to have to make the +most of this." + + * * * * * + +Rex Donaldson, ex-field man for the African Department of the British +Commonwealth, dropped the lift lever of his heliohopper and settled to +the ground immediately before Homer Crawford who stood there flanked +by Isobel Cunningham and Cliff Jackson. Further back and in the form +of a crescent were possibly two or three hundred Tuareg of all ages +and both sexes. + +Donaldson, in the garb of a Dogan juju man consisting of little more +than a wisp of cloth about his loins, played it straight, not knowing +the setup. On the face of it, he had just flown out of the sky +_personally_. The size of his equipment so small as to be all but +meaningless. + +He unstrapped himself from the thin, bicyclelike seat, and, +expressionlessly, folded the rotors of his tiny craft back over +themselves and the engine, collapsed the whole thing into a manageable +packet of some seventy-five pounds, the seat now becoming a handle, +and then turned and faced Crawford. + +Donaldson screwed his wizened face into an expression of respect and +made a motion of obeisance. Then he waited. + +Isobel said, "El Hassan bids you speak." + +That was the tip-off, then. Crawford had already revealed himself to +these people as El Hassan. Very well. + +Donaldson spoke in Arabic, not knowing the Tamaheq tongue. "Aselamu, +Aleikum, El Hassan. I come to obey your wishes." + +A sigh had gone through the Tuareg. "Aiiiii." _Wallahi, even the +djinn obeyed El Hassan!_ + +With dignity, Homer Crawford said, "Keif halak, all in my house is +yours." + +Rex Donaldson inclined his small bent body again, in respect. + +Crawford said in English, "Let's not carry this _too_ far. Come on +into the tent." + +Ignoring the Tuareg, who still gaped but held their distance, the four +English-speaking Negroes headed for the larger of the two tents that +had been set up for El Hassan. + +As they passed Guemama who stood slightly aside from the other Tuareg +with his uncle Melchizedek, the Amenokal, Crawford nodded and said, +speaking to them both. "A messenger from my people to the south. +Continue with your newly arrived warriors, O Guemama." + +Cliff Jackson had picked up the folded heliohopper and was now +carrying it easily. + +Guemama looked at the device and blinked. + +Crawford refrained from laughing at his commander of irregulars. "It +is not a _kambu_ device. My people deal not in magic. It is but one of +the many of the things the new ways bring. One day, Guemama," Homer's +face remained expressionless, "perhaps you will fly thus." + +The teguelmoust hid the other's blanch. + +In the tent, Homer turned to the Bahaman, motioned to what seating +arrangements were available. + +Isobel said, "I'll get some coffee." + +Cliff blurted, "Holy Mackerel, if Donaldson, here, can drop in on us +out of a clear sky, what keeps anybody else from doing it? Somebody +with a couple of neopalm bombs in the way of calling cards." + +The dried up little man grimaced in his equivalent of a grin and said, +"Hold it, you chaps. I want to notify the others." + +"The others? What others?" Crawford said. + +Donaldson ignored him for a moment, unslung the small bag he carried +over one shoulder and dipped into it for a tiny, two-way radio. He +pressed the buzzer button, then held it up to his mouth. "Jack, Jimmy, +Dave. Here we are. Took donkey's years, but I found them. You chaps +zero-in here." He left the device on and set it to one side, then +yawned and settled himself to the rug-covered ground, crosslegged, +Dogon style. + +Homer Crawford, even as he sat down himself on a footlocker, in lieu +of a chair, rapped, "How did you find us? Who did you just radio? +Where'd you come from?" + +"I say, hold it," Donaldson chuckled sourly. "First of all, I've come +to join up. I thought as far back as that time we co-operated in +quelling the riots in Mopti that you ought to do this--proclaim +yourself El Hassan. When I heard you'd taken the step, I came to join +up." + +"Oh, great," Cliff said. "What took you so long? We hardly get here, +to our ultra-secret hideout, than here you are." + +Isobel came with the coffee and handed it around, silently. Then she, +too, settled to the rug which covered the sand of the floor. + +Rex Donaldson turned to Cliff and there was a wrinkle of amusement in +the older man's eyes. "I took so long, because I needed the time to +recruit a few other chaps I knew would stand with us." + +Crawford rapped, "That's who you just radioed?" + +"Of course, old boy. I'd hardly bring the opposition down on us, would +I?" + +"Where are they?" + +"In a couple of hovercraft, similar to your own, possibly twenty +kilometers to the southwest." + +"You still haven't told us how you found us?" + +The little man shrugged. "After tendering my resignation to Sir +Winton, I considered the possibilities, which narrowed down very +quickly when I heard the Arab Legion had taken Tamanrasset." + +"Why?" Isobel said. + +Donaldson shot a glance at her. "Because, my dear, unless El Hassan is +able to retake Tamanrasset, his movement has come a cropper." He +turned his eyes back to Crawford, who was nervously running his hand +through his hair. "I knew you had done considerable work in this area, +so your whereabouts became obvious seeing that Tamanrasset is in +Tuareg country. It was simply a matter of finding what Tuareg +encampment was your base, and since your quickest manner of gathering +support would be to swing the Amenokal to your banner, I headed for +his usual encampment this time of year." + +Cliff looked at Homer Crawford. "If Rex found us so easily, so will +anybody else." + +Isobel put in. "Not necessarily. Mr. Donaldson has information that +most of El Hassan's opponents wouldn't." + + * * * * * + +Homer came to his feet unhappily and began pacing. "No, Isobel. +Ostrander, for instance, has all the dope Rex has and is just as +capable of working it through to a conclusion. It takes no great +insight to realize El Hassan has to either put up or shut up when it +comes to Tamanrasset. That's possibly why some of the other elements +interested in North Africa have so far refrained from action against +the Arab Union. They want to see what El Hassan is going to do--find +out just what he has on the ball." + +Rex Donaldson looked at him interestedly, "And? What are your plans?" + +Homer Crawford's face worked. "My plans right at present are to stay +alive, and you finding me so easily isn't heartening. However, it +brings to mind some other problems which need solving, too." + +The rest of them fell silent, looking at him. His usual casual humor +had dropped away, and his personality gripped them. + +He stopped his pacing, and frowned down at them. + +"El Hassan is going to have to remain on the move. Always. There can +be no capital city, no definite base, and it's going to be a poor idea +to sleep twice in the same place." He shook his head emphatically as +though to deny rebuttal, which they hadn't actually made. "El Hassan's +enemies mustn't know his location within twenty miles." + +"Twenty miles!" Cliff blurted. + +Crawford stared at him, but unseeingly. "Yes. At least half a dozen of +our opponents possess nuclear weapons." + +Donaldson demured, sourly. "A nuclear weapon hasn't been exploded for +donkey's years and--" + +"Of course not," Homer snapped. "Nor would anyone dare, anywhere else +except in the wastes of the Sahara. A nuclear explosion in the Ahaggar +would not go undetected and a controversy might go up in the Reunited +Nations. But who could prove who had done it? And who, actually, would +care if in the explosion a common foe of all was eliminated? But let +the Arab Union, or possibly the Soviet Complex, or even others, learn +definitely where El Hassan is and a bomb could well devastate twenty +square miles seeking him out." Crawford shook his head. "No, we've +simply got to keep on the move." + +Donaldson said, even as he nodded agreement, "And what other problems +were you talking about?" + +"Oh?" Homer said. "Well, keeping on the move will serve to add mystery +to the El Hassan legend. It isn't good for this Tuareg encampment, +for instance, to see too much of El Hassan. A leader claiming +domination of half a continent looks small potatoes in a desert camp +of a few score tents. On the move, showing up here, there, the other +place, for only a day or two at a time, is another proposition." + +He thought a moment. "Remember DeGaulle?" + +"How could we forget?" Rex Donaldson said wryly. + +"He had one angle that couldn't be more correct. He said a leader had +to keep remote, ever mysterious. He can't afford to have real +intimates. Napoleon, Hitler, Stalin. None of them had a real friend to +their name. The nearest to friends that Adolph the Aryan ever had, his +old comrades of the beerhall days, such as Rhoem, he butchered in the +blood purge. And Stalin? He managed to do away with every Old +Bolshevik he knew in the days before the Party came to power." + +Cliff was staring at him. "Hey," he said. "The one other thing one of +these mystical leader types needs is a belief in his own destiny. To +the point of clobbering all his intimates if he thinks they stand in +his way." + +Homer broke into a sudden short laugh. "Any qualms, Cliff?" + +Cliff growled, "I don't know. This dream of yours is growing. Where it +might end--I don't know." + +As they were talking the cries of _Ul-Ul-Ul-Allah Akbar!_ had broken +out again. + +"Heavens to Betsy," Isobel said. "Another contingent of camelmen?" + + * * * * * + +But this time the newcomers were three in number and rode in air +cushion hover-lorries, the twins of that used by Homer Crawford. + +Rex Donaldson brought them up to the tent, saying, "I didn't think you +chaps were quite so close." + +Homer, Cliff and Isobel faced the new recruits. The three were dressed +in khaki bushshirts, shorts and heavy walking shoes--British style. +Two were so obviously relatives that they could have been twins except +for an age discrepancy of two or three years. They were smaller in +stature than the Americans present, almost chunky, but their faces +held education and cultivation. The third was slight of build, almost +as wiry as Rex Donaldson, and seemed ever at ease. + +The small, bent Bahaman made introductions. "Gentlemen, let me present +El Hassan--Homer Crawford to you--formerly of the Reunited Nations +African Development Project, formerly of the United States of the +Americas." His face twisted in his sour grimace of a grin. "Now +running for the office of tyrant of North Africa." + +"And these are two of his original and most trusted adherents, Isobel +Cunningham and Cliff Jackson." Donaldson turned to the newcomers. +"John and James Peters--that's Jack and Jimmy, of course--recently +colleagues of mine with the African Department of the Commonwealth, +working largely in the Nigeria area." + +Homer shook hands, grinning. "You're a long way from home." + +"Farther than that," the one labeled Jack said without a smile +changing the seriousness of his face. "We're originally from +Trinidad." + +Donaldson said, "And this is David Moroka, late of South Africa." + +The wiry South African said easily, "Not so very late. In fact, I +haven't seen Jo-burg since I was a boy." + +He was shaking hands with Isobel now. "Jo-burg?" she said. + +"Johannesburg," he translated. "I got out by the skin of my teeth +during the troubles in the 1950s." + +"You sound like an American," Cliff said when it was his turn to +shake. + +"Educated in the States," Moroka said. "Best thing that ever happened +to me was to be kicked out of the land of my birth." + +Homer made a sweeping gesture at the floor and the few articles of +furniture the tent contained that could be improvised as chairs. "I'm +surprised you're up here instead of in your own neck of the woods," he +said to the South African. + +Moroka shrugged. "I was considering heading south when I ran into +Jimmy and Jack, here. They'd already got the word on the El Hassan +movement from Rex. Their arguments made sense to me." + +Eyes went to the brothers from Trinidad and Jack Peters took over the +position of spokesman. He said, seriously, as though trying to +convince the others, "North Africa is the starting point, the +beginning. Given El Hassan's success in uniting North Africa, the +central areas and later even the south will fall into line. Perhaps +one day there will be a union of _all_ Africa." + +"Or at least a strong confederation," Jimmy Peters added. + +Homer nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps. But we can't look that far +forward now." He looked from one of the newcomers to the other. "I +don't know to what extent you fellows understand what the rest of us +have set out to accomplish but I suppose if you've been with Rex for +the past week, you have a fairly clear idea." + +"I believe so," Jack nodded, straight-faced. + +Homer Crawford said slowly, "I don't want to give you the wrong idea. +If you join up, you'll find it's no parade. Our chances were slim to +begin, and we've had some setbacks. As you've probably heard, the Arab +Union has stolen a march on us. And from what we can get on the radio, +we have thus far to pick up a single adherent among the world powers." + +"_Powers?_" Cliff snorted. "We haven't got a nation the size of Monaco +on our side." + +Moroka shot a quick glance at the big Californian. + +Isobel caught it and laughed. "Cliff's a perpetual sourpuss," she +said. "However, he's been in since the first." + +The South African looked at her in turn. "We were hardly prepared to +find a beautiful American girl in the Great Erg," he said. + +Something about his voice caused her to flush. "We've all caught +Homer's dream," she said, almost defensively. + + * * * * * + +David Moroka flung to his feet, viper fast, and dashed toward Homer +Crawford, his hands extended. + +Automatically, Cliff Jackson stuck forward a foot in an attempt to +trip him--and missed. + +The South African, moving with blurring speed, grasped the +unsuspecting Crawford by the right hand and arm, swung with fantastic +speed and sent the American sprawling to the far side of the tent. + +Homer Crawford, old in rough and tumble, was already rolling out. +Before the inertia of his fall had given way, his right hand, only a +split second before in the grip of the other, was fumbling for the 9 +mm Noiseless holstered at his belt. + +Rex Donaldson, a small handgun magically in his hand, was standing, +half crouched on his thin, bent legs. The two brothers from Trinidad +hadn't moved, their eyes bugging. + +Moroka was spinning with the momentum of the sudden attack he'd made +on his new chief. Now there was a gun in his own hand and he was +darting for the tent opening. + +Cliff yelled indignantly, "Stop him!" + +Isobel, on her feet by now, both hands to her mouth, was staring at +the goatskin tent covering, against which, a moment earlier, Crawford +had been gently leaning his back as he talked. + +There was a vicious slash in the leather and even as she pointed, the +razor-sharp arm dagger's blade disappeared. There was the sound of +running feet outside the tent. + +Homer Crawford had assimilated the situation before the rest. He, too, +was darting for the tent entrance, only feet behind Moroka. + +Donaldson followed, muttering bitterly under his breath, his face +twisted more as though in distaste than in fighting anger. + +Cliff, too, finally saw light and dashed after the others, leaving +only Isobel and the Peters brothers. They heard the muffled coughing +of a silenced gun, twice, thrice and then half a dozen times, blurting +together in automatic fire. + +Homer Crawford shuffled through the sand on an awkward run, rounding +the tent, weapon in hand. + +There was a native on the ground making final spasmatic muscular +movements in his death throes, and not more than three feet from him, +coolly, David Moroka sat, bracing his elbows on his knees and aiming, +two-handed, as his gun emptied itself. + +Crawford brought his own gun up, seeking the target, and clipping at +the same time, "We want him alive--" + +It was too late. Two hundred feet beyond, a running tribesman, long +arm dagger still in hand, stumbled, ran another three or four feet +with hesitant steps, and then collapsed. + +Moroka said, "Too late, Crawford. He would have got away." The South +African started to his feet, brushing sand from his khaki bush +shorts. + +The others were beginning to come up and from the Tuareg encampment a +rush of Guemama's men started in their direction. + +Crawford said unhappily, looking down at the dead native at their +feet, "I hate to see unnecessary killing." + +Moroka looked at him questioningly. "Unnecessary? Another split second +and his knife would have been in your gizzard. What do you want to +give him, another chance?" + +Crawford said uncomfortably, "Thanks, Dave, anyway. That was quick +thinking." + +"Thank God," Donaldson said, coming up, his wrinkled face scowling +unhappily, first at the dead man at their feet, and then at the one +almost a hundred yards away. "Are these local men? Where were your +bodyguards?" + +Cliff Jackson skidded to a halt, after rounding the tent. He'd heard +only the last words. "What bodyguards?" he said. + +Moroka looked at Crawford accusingly. "El Hassan," he said. "Leader of +all North Africa. And you haven't even got around to bodyguards? Do +you fellows think you're playing children's games? Gentlemen, I assure +you, the chips are down." + + +VI + +El Hassan's Tuaregs were on the move. After half a century and more of +relative peace the Apaches of the Sahara, the Sons of Shaitan and the +Forgotten of Allah were again disappearing into the ergs to emerge +here, there, and ghostlike to disappear again. They faded in and faded +away again, and even in their absence dominated all. + +El Hassan was on the move, as all men by now knew, and he, who was not +for the amalgamation of all North Africa, was judged against him. And +who, in the Sahara, could afford to be against El Hassan when his +Tuaregs were everywhere? + +Refugees poured into Tamanrasset for the security of Arab Legion arms, +or into In Salah and Reggan to the north, or Agades and Zinder to the +south. Refugees who had already taken their stand with the Arab Union +and Pan-Islam. Refugees who were men of property and would know more +of this El Hassan before risking their wealth. Refugees who took no +stand, but dreaded those who drank the milk of war, no matter the +cause for which they fought. Refugees who fled simply because others +fled, for terror is a most contagious disease. + +Colonel Midan Ibrahim of the crack motorized units of the Arab Legion +which occupied Tamanrasset, was fuming. His task was a double one. +First, to hold Tamanrasset and its former French stronghold Fort +Laperrine; second, to keep open his lines of communication with +Ghademes and Ghat, in Arab Union dominated Libya. To hold them until +further steps were decided upon by his superiors in Cairo and the +Near East--whatever these steps might be. Colonel Midan Ibrahim was +too low in the Arab Union hierarchy to be in on such privy matters. + +His original efforts, in pushing across the Sahara from Ghademes and +Ghat, had been no more than desert maneuvers. There had been no force +other than nature's to say him nay. The Reunited Nations was an +organization composed possibly of great powers, but in supposedly +acting in unison they became a shrieking set of hair-tearing women; +the whole being less than any of its individual parts. And El Hassan? +No more than a rumor. In fact, an asset because this supposed mystery +man of the desert, bent on uniting all North Africa under his +domination, gave the Arab Union, its alibi for stepping in with +Colonel Ibrahim's men. + +Yes, the original efforts had been but a drill. But now his Arab +Legion troopers were beginning to face reality. The supply trucks, +coming down under convoy from Ghademes, reported the water source at +Ohanet destroyed. The major well would take a week or more to repair. +Who had committed the sabotage? Some said the Tuareg, some said local +followers of El Hassan, others, desert tribesmen resentful of _both_ +the Arab Union and El Hassan. + +One of his routine patrols, feeling out toward Meniet to the north, +had suddenly dropped radio communication, almost in mid-sentence. A +relieving patrol had thus far found nothing, the armored car's tracks +covered over by the sands. + +[Illustration] + +And rumors, rumors, rumors, Colonel Midan Ibrahim, born of +aristocratic Alexandrian blood, though trained to a sharp edge in Near +Eastern warfare, was basically city bred. The gloss of desert training +might take on him, but the bedouin life itself was not in his +experience, and it was hard for him to trace the dividing line between +possibility and fantasy. + +Rumors, rumors, rumors. They seemed capable of sweeping from one end +of the Sahara to the other in a matter of hours. Faster, it would seem +than the information could be dispensed by radio. El Hassan was here. +El Hassan was there. El Hassan was marching on Rabat, in Morocco; El +Hassan had just signed a treaty with the Soviet Complex; El Hassan had +been assassinated by a disgruntled follower. Or El Hassan was a +renegade Christian; El Hassan was a Moslem of Sheriffian blood, a +direct descendant of the Prophet; El Hassan was a pagan come up from +Dahomey and practiced ritual cannibalism; El Hassan was a Jew, a +veteran of the Israel debacle. + +But this Colonel Ibrahim knew--the Tuareg had gone over to the new +movement en masse. Something there was in El Hassan and his dream that +had appealed to the Forgotten of Allah. The Tuareg, for the first time +since the French Camel Corps had broken their strength, were +united--united and on the move. + +The Tuareg were everywhere. In most sinister fashion--everywhere. And +all were El Hassan's men. + +Colonel Ibrahim fumed and wondered what kept his superiors from +sending in additional columns, additional armored elements. And, above +all, adequate air cover. Ha! Give the colonel sufficient aircraft and +he'd begin snuffing out bedouin life like candles--and bring the Peace +of Allah to the Ahaggar. + +So Colonel Ibrahim fumed, demanded further orders from mum superiors, +and put his legionnaires to work on bigger and better gun +emplacements, trenches and pillboxes surrounding Fort Laperinne and +Tamanrasset. + + * * * * * + +El Hassan's personal entourage numbered exactly twenty persons. Of +these, five were his immediate English-speaking, Western-educated +supporters, Cliff, Isobel and the new Jack and Jimmy Peters and Dave +Moroka. Rex Donaldson had been sent south again to operate in Senegal +and Mali, to take over direction of the rapidly spreading movement in +such centers as Bamako and Mopti and later, if possible, in Dakar. + +The other fifteen were carefully selected Tuareg, picked from among +Guemama's tribesmen taking care to show no preference to any tribe or +clan, and taking particular care to choose men who fought coolly, +unexcitedly, and didn't froth at the mouth when in action; men who +were slow to charge wildly into the enemy's guns--but slower still to +retreat when the going was hot. El Hassan was prone to neither hero +nor coward in his personal bodyguard. + +They kept under movement. In Abelessa one day, almost in range of the +mobile artillery of the Arab Legion; in Timassao the next, checking +the wells that meant everything to a desert force; the following day +as far south as the Tamesna region to rally the less warlike +Irreguenaten, a half-breed Tuareg people largely held in scorn by +those of the Ahaggar. + +Homer Crawford was killing time whilst stirring up as much noise and +dust as his handful of followers could manage. Killing time until +Elmer Allen from the Chaambra country, Bey-ag-Akhamouk from the Teda, +and Kenny Ballalou from the west could show up with their columns. He +had no illusions of how things now stood. At best, he could hold +together a thousand Tuareg fighting men. No more. The economics of +desert life prevented him a larger force, unless he had the resources +of the modern world at hand, and he didn't. Besides that, the Tuareg +confederation could provide no larger number of fighting men and at +the same time continue their desert economy. + +He stood now with Isobel, Cliff and Dave Moroka in one of the western +type tents which the Peters brothers had brought with them in their +hover-lorries, and poured over the half-adequate maps which covered +the area. + +Dave Moroka traced with a finger. "If we could dominate these wells +running to Djanet, our Arab Union friends would have only their one +line of supply going through Temassinine to Ghademes. That's a long +haul, Homer." + +Homer Crawford scowled thoughtfully. "That involves only four wells. +If Ibrahim's legionnaires staked out only three armored vehicles at +each water hole, they could hold them. Our camelmen could never take +armor." + +Moroka frowned, too. "We've got to start _some_ sort of action, or the +men will start dribbling away." + +Cliff Jackson said, "Bey and Kenny and Elmer should be coming soon. I +heard a radio item this morning about a big pro-El Hassan movement +starting in the Sudan among the Teda." + +Moroka said, "We need some sort of quick, spectacular victory. The +bedouin can lose interest as quickly as they can get steamed up, and +thus far we haven't given them anything but words--promises." + +"You're right," Homer growled, "but there's nothing we can do right +now but mark time. Irritate the Arabs a bit. Keep them from spreading +out." + +Isobel brought coffee, handing around the small Moroccan cups. She +said, "Well, one thing is certain. We get supplies soon or start +eating jerked goat and camel milk curds." + +Moroka said in irritation, "It's not funny." + +Isobel raised her eyebrows. "I didn't mean it to be. Have you ever +been on a camel curd diet?" + +"Yes, I have," Moroka said impatiently. He turned back to Homer +Crawford. "How about waylaying an armored car or so, just in the way +of giving the men something exciting to do?" + +Crawford ran a hand back through his short hair. "Confound it, Dave, +can you picture what a Recoilless-Brenn gun would do to a harka of our +charging camelmen? We can't let these people be butchered." + +"I wasn't thinking of wild charges," Moroka argued. + +They had both turned away from Isobel, in their discussion. Now she +looked at them, strangely. And especially at Homer Crawford. His +brusqueness toward her didn't seem the old Homer. + + * * * * * + +There was a bustle from outside and a guardsman stuck his head in the +tent entrance and reported in Tamaheq that a small camel patrol +approached. + +The four of them went out. Coming up were a dozen Tuareg and two motor +vehicles. + +Cliff said, "Something new." + +Moroka said, "We can use the transport." + +"Let's see who they are, before we start requisitioning their +property," Homer said dryly. + +The two desert trucks had hardly come to a halt before the camouflaged +tents and hover-lorries of El Hassan's small encampment before a +heavy-set, gray haired Negro, whose energy belied his weight, bounced +down from the seat adjacent to the driver's in the lead vehicle and +stomped belligerently to the group before the tent. + +"What is the meaning of this?" he snapped. + +Homer Crawford looked at him. "I'm sure I don't know as yet, Dr. +Smythe. Neither you nor these followers of mine have informed me as to +what has transpired. Won't you enter my quarters here and we'll go +into it under more comfortable conditions?" He glanced upward at the +midday Saharan sun. + +The other seemed taken aback at Crawford calling him by name. He +squinted at the man who was seemingly his captor. + +"Crawford!" he snapped. "Dr. Homer Crawford! See here, what is the +meaning of this?" + +Homer said, "Dr. Warren Harding Smythe, may I present Isobel +Cunningham, Clifford Jackson and David Moroka, of my staff?" + +"Huuump. I met Miss Cunningham and, I believe, Mr. Jackson at that +ridiculous meeting in Timbuktu, a short time ago." The doctor peered +over his glasses at Moroka. + +The wiry South African nodded his head. "A pleasure, Doctor." He held +open the tent entrance. + +Smythe snorted again and stomped inside to escape the sun's glare. + +In the shade of the tent's interior, Isobel clucked at him and hurried +to get a drink of water from a moist water cooler. Homer Crawford +motioned the other to a seat, and took one himself. "Now then, Dr. +Smythe." + +The indignant medic blurted, "Those confounded bandits out there--" + +"Irregular camel cavalry," Crawford amended gently. + +"They've kidnapped me and my staff. I demand that you intercede, if +you have any influence with them." + +"What were you doing?" Crawford was frowning at the other. Actually, +he had no idea of the circumstances under which the probably +overenthusiastic Tuareg troopers had rounded up the American medical +man. + +"Doing? You know perfectly well I represent the American Medical +Relief. My team has been in the vicinity of Silet, working with the +nomads. The country is rife with everything from rickets to syphilis! +Eighty per cent of these people suffer from trachoma. My team--" + +"Just a moment," Moroka said. "You mean out in those two trucks you +have a complete American medical setup? Assistants and all?" + +Smythe said stiffly, "I have two American nurses with me and four +Algerians recruited in Oran. This sort of interference with my work is +insufferable and--" + +The South African was staring at Homer Crawford. + +Cliff Jackson cleared his throat. "It seems as though El Hassan has +just acquired a Department of Health." + +"El Hassan?" Smythe stuttered. "What, what?" + +Isobel said softly, "Dr. Smythe, surely you have heard of El Hassan." + +"Heard of him? I've heard of nothing else for the past month! +Confounded ignorant barbarian. What this part of the world needs is +_less_ intertribal, interracial, international fighting, not more. The +man's a raving lunatic and--" + +Isobel said gently, "Doctor ... may I introduce you to El Hassan?" + +"What ... what--?" For the briefest of moments, there was an element +of timorness in the sputtering doctor's voice. Then suddenly he +comprehended. + +He pointed at Homer Crawford accusingly. "You're El Hassan!" + +Homer nodded, seriously, "That's correct, Doctor." + +The doctor's eyes went around the four of them. "You've done what you +were driving at there at that meeting in Timbuktu. You're trying to +unite these people in spite of themselves and then drag them, +willy-nilly, into the twentieth century." + +Homer still nodded. + +Smythe shook an indignant finger at him. "I told you then, Crawford, +and I tell you now. These natives are not suited for such sudden +change. Already they are subject to mass neurosis because they cannot +adjust to a world that changes too quickly." + +"I wonder if that doesn't apply to the rest of us as well," Cliff said +unhappily. "But the changes go on, if we like them or not. Can you +think of any way to turn them off?" + +The doctor snorted. + +Homer Crawford said, "Dr. Smythe, the die is already cast. The +question now becomes, will you join us?" + +"Join you! Certainly not!" + +Crawford said evenly, "Then I might suggest that, first, you will not +be allowed to operate in my territory." He considered for a moment, +grinning inwardly, but on the surface his expression serene. He added, +"And second, that you will probably have difficulties procuring an +exit visa from my domains." + +"Exit visa! Are you jesting? See here, my good man, you realize I am a +citizen of the United States of the Americas and--" + +"A country," Homer yawned, "with which I have not as yet opened +diplomatic relations, and hence has little representation in North +Africa." + +The doctor was bug-eying him. He began sputtering again. "This isn't +funny. You're an American citizen yourself. And you, Miss Cunningham +and--" + +Isobel said sadly, "As a matter of fact, the last we heard, the State +Department representative told us our passports were invalid." + +Crawford leaned forward. "Look here, Doctor. You don't see eye to eye +with us on matters socio-economic. However, as a medical man, I submit +that joining my group ... ah, that is, until you can secure an exit +visa from my authorities ... will give you an excellent opportunity to +practice your science here in the Sahara under the wing of El Hassan. +I'll assign a place for your trucks and tents. Please consider the +question and let me have your answer at your leisure. Meanwhile, we +will prepare a desert feast suitable to the high esteem in which we +hold you." + + * * * * * + +They looked after the doctor, as he left, and Moroka chuckled. +However, Isobel was watching Homer Crawford quizzically. + +She said finally, "We rode over him a little in the roughshod manner, +didn't we?" + +Homer Crawford growled uncomfortably, "Particularly when we finally +have our showdown with the Arab Legion, a medic will be priceless." + +Isobel said softly, "And the end justifies the means--" + +Homer shot a quick, impatient look at her. "The good doctor and his +people are in the Sahara to work with the Tuareg and the Teda and the +rest of the bedouin. Beyond that, he has the same dream we have--of +developing this continent of our racial background." + +"But he doesn't believe in your methods, Homer, and we're forcing him +to follow El Hassan's road in spite of his beliefs." + +Moroka had been peering at the two of them narrowly. "You don't make +omelets without breaking eggs," he said, his voice on the overbearing +side. + +She spun on him. "But the omelets don't turn out so well if some of +the eggs you use are rotten." + +The South African's voice turned gentle. "Miss Cunningham," he said, +"working in the field, like this, can have its rugged side for a young +and delicate woman--" + +"_Delicate!_" she snapped. "I'll have you know--" + +"Hey, everybody, hold it," Cliff injected. "What goes on?" + +Dave Moroka shrugged. "It just seems to me that Isobel might do better +back in Dakar, or in New York with your friend Jake Armstrong. +Somewhere where her sensibilities wouldn't be so bruised, and where +her assets"--his eyes went up and down her lithe body--"could be put +to better use." + +Isobel's sepia face had gone a shade or more lighter. She said, very +flatly, "My assets, Mr. Moroka, are in my head." + +Homer Crawford said disgustedly, "O.K., O.K., let's all knock it off." + +His eyes flicked back and forth between them, in definite command. "I +don't want to hear any more in the way of personalities between you +two." + +Moroka shrugged again. "Yes, sir," he said without inflection. + +Isobel turned away and took up some paperwork, without further words. +She suppressed her feeling of seething indignation. + +Homer Crawford, under his pressures, was changing. Possibly, she had +told herself before, it was change for the better. The need was for a +_strong_ man, perhaps even a ruthless one. + +The Homer Crawford she had first known was an easier going man than +he who had snapped an abrupt order to her a moment ago. The Homer she +had first known requested things of his teammates and friends. El +Hassan had learned to command. + +The Homer she had first known could never have ridden, roughshod, over +the basically gentle Dr. Smythe. + +The Homer she had first known, when the El Hassan scheme was still +aborning, had thought of himself as a member of a team. He was quick +to ask advice of all, and quick to take it if it had validity. Now +Homer, as El Hassan, was depending less and less upon the opinions of +those surrounding him, more and more upon his own decisions which he +seemed to sometimes reach purely through intuition. + +The El Hassan dream was still upon her, but, womanlike, she wondered +if she liked the would-be tyrant of all North Africa as well as she +had once liked the easy-going American idealist, Homer Crawford. + +Jack and Jimmy Peters, the brothers from Trinidad, entered, the former +carrying a couple of books. + +They'd evidently failed to note the raised voices and wore their +customary serious expressions. Jack looked at Homer and said, "_Cu vi +scias Esperanton?_" + +Homer Crawford's eyebrows went up but he said, "_Jes, mi parolas +Esperanto tre bona, mi pensas._" + +"_Bona_," Jack said, "_Tre bona_." + +"_Jes, estas bele_," his brother said. + +Moroka was scowling back and forth from one of them to the other. "I +thought I had a fairly good working knowledge of the world's more +common languages," he said, "but that goes by me. It sounds like a +cross between Italian and pig-Latin." + +Homer said to the Peters brothers, "Let's drop Esperanto so that Dave, +Isobel and Cliff can follow us. We can give it a whirl later, if you'd +like, just for the practice." + +Isobel said slowly, "_Mi parolas Esperanto, malgranda_." Then in +English, "I took it for kicks while I was still in school. Kind of +rusty now, though." + +"Esperanto?" Cliff said. "You mean that gobblydygook so-called +international language?" + +Jack Peters looked at him, serious faced as always. "What is wrong +with an international language, Mr. Jackson?" + +Cliff was taken aback. "Search me. But it doesn't seem to have proved +very practical. It didn't catch on." + +"Well, more than you might think," Isobel told him. "There are +probably hundreds of thousands of persons in one part of the world or +another who can get along in Esperanto." + +Moroka said impatiently, "What're a few hundred thousands of people in +a world population like ours? Cliff's right. It never took hold." + +Homer said, "All right, Jack and Jimmy. You boys evidently have +something on your minds. Let everybody sit down and listen to it." + + * * * * * + +Even before they got thoroughly settled, Jack Peters was launching +into his pitch. + +"We need an official language," he said. "The El Hassan movement has +set as a goal the uniting of all North Africa. We might start here in +the Sahara, but it's just a start. Ultimately, the idea is to reach +from Morocco to Egypt and from the Mediterranean to ... to where? The +Congo?" + +"Actually, we've never set exact limits," Homer said. + +"Ultimately _all Africa_," Dave Moroka muttered softly. He ignored the +manner in which Isobel contemplated him from the side of her eyes. + +"All right," the West Indian said. "There are more than seven hundred +major languages, not counting dialects, in Africa. Sooner or later, we +need an official language, what is it going to be?" + +"Why _one_ official language? Why not several?" Cliff scowled. "Say +Arabic, here in this area. Swahili on the East coast. And, say, +Songhoi along the Niger, and Wolof, the Senegalese lingua franca, +and--" + +"You see," Peters interrupted. "Already you have half a dozen and you +haven't even got out of this immediate vicinity as yet. Let me develop +my point." + +Homer Crawford was becoming interested. "Go on, Jack," he said. + +Jack Peters pointed a finger at him. "To be the hero-symbol we have in +mind, El Hassan is going to have to be able to communicate with _all_ +of his people. He's not going to be able to speak Arabic to, say, a +Masai in Kenya. They hate the Arabs. He's not going to be able to +speak Swahili to a Moroccan, they've never heard of the language. He +can't speak Tamaheq to the Imraguen, they're scared to death of the +Tuareg." + +Homer said thoughtfully, "A common language would be fine. It'd solve +a lot of problems. But it doesn't seem to be in the cards. Why not +adopt as our official language the one in which the _most_ of our +people will be able to communicate? Say, Arabic?" + +Jack was shaking his head seriously. "And antagonize all the Arab +hating Bantu in Africa? It's no go, Homer." + +"Well, then, say French--or English." + +"English is the most international language in the world," Moroka +said. But his face was thoughtful, as those of the others were +becoming. + +The West Indian was beginning to make his points now. "No, any of the +European languages are out. The white man has been repudiated. +Adopting English, French, Spanish, Portuguese or Dutch, as our +official language would antagonize whole sections of the continent." + +"Why Esperanto?" Cliff scowled. "Why not, say, Nov-Esperanto, or Ido, +or Interlingua?" + +Jimmy Peters put in a word now. "Actually, any one of them would +possibly do, but we have a head start with Esperanto. Some years ago +both Jack and I became avid Esperantists, being naive enough in those +days to think an international language would ultimately solve all +man's problems. And both Homer and Isobel seem to have a working +knowledge of the language." + +Homer said, "So have the other members of my former Reunited Nations team. +That's where those books you found came from. Elmer, Bey, Kenny ... and +Abe ... and I used to play around with it when we were out in the desert, +just to kill time. We also used it as sort of a secret language when we +wanted to communicate and didn't know if those around us might understand +some English." + +"I still don't get the picture," Cliff argued. "If we picked the most +common half a dozen languages in the territory we cover, then millions +of these people wouldn't have to study a second language. But if you +adapt Esperanto as an official language then _everybody_ is going to +have to learn something new. And that's not going to be easy for our +ninety-five per cent illiterate followers." + +Isobel said thoughtfully, "Well, it's a darn sight easier to learn +Esperanto than any other language we decided to make official." + +"Why?" Cliff said argumentatively. + + * * * * * + +Jack Peters took over. "Because it's almost unbelievably easy to +learn. English, by the way, is extremely difficult. For instance, +spelling and pronunciation are absolutely phonetic in Esperanto and +there are only five vowel sounds where most national languages have +twenty or so. And each sound in the alphabet has one sound only and +any sound is always rendered by the same letter." + +Dave Moroka said, "Actually, I don't know anything at all about this +Esperanto." + +The West Indian took him in, with a dominating glance. "Take grammar and +syntax which can take up volumes in other languages. Esperanto has exactly +sixteen short rules. And take vocabularies. For instance, in English we +often form the feminine of a noun by adding _ess--actor-actress_, +_tiger-tigress_. But not always. We don't say _bull-bulless_ or +_ghost-ghostess_. In Esperanto you simply add the feminine ending to any +noun--there's no exception to any rule." + +Jack Peters was caught up in his subject. "Still comparing it to +English, realize that spelling and pronunciation in English are highly +irregular and one letter can have several different sounds, and one +sound may be represented by different letters. And there are even +silent letters which are written but not pronounced like the _ugh_ in +_though_. There are none of these irregularities in Esperanto. And the +sounds are all sharp with none of such subtle differences as, say, +_bed/bad/bard/bawd_, that sort of thing." + +Jimmy Peters said, "The big item is that any averagely intelligent +person can begin speaking Esperanto within a few hours. Within a week +of even moderate study, say three or four hours a day, he's +astonishingly fluent." + +[Illustration] + +Isobel said thoughtfully, "There'd be international advantages. It's +always been a galling factor in Africans dealing with Europeans that +they had to learn the European language involved. You couldn't expect +your white man to learn kitchen kaffir, or Swahili, or whatever, not +when you got on the diplomatic level." + +Cliff Jackson was thinking out loud. "So far, El Hassan is an unknown. +Rumor has it that he's everything from a renegade Egyptian, to an +escaped Mau-Mau chief, to a Senegalese sergeant formerly in the French +West African forces. But when he starts running into the press and +they find that Homer and his closest associates all speak English, and +most of them with an American accent, there's going to be some fat in +the fire." + +"And El Hassan will have lost some of his mysterious glamour," Homer +added thoughtfully. + +Even Moroka, the South African, was beginning to accept the idea. "If +El Hassan, himself, refused in the presence of foreigners ever to +speak anything but Esperanto, the aura of mystery would continue." + +Jimmy Peters, elaborating and obviously pushing an opinion he and his +brother had already discussed, said, "We make it a rule that every +school, both locally taught and foreign, must teach Esperanto as a +required subject. All El Hassan governmental affairs would be +conducted in that language. Anybody at all trying to get anywhere in +the new regime would have to learn the official inter-African tongue." + +"Oh, brother," Cliff groaned, "that means me." He brightened. "We +haven't any books or anything, as yet." + +Isobel laughed at him. "I'll take on your studies, Cliff. We have a +few books. Those that Homer and his team used to kill time with. And +as soon as we're in a position to make requests for foreign aid of the +great powers, Esperanto grammars, dictionaries and so forth can be +high on the list." + +With a sharp cry, almost a bark, a figure jumped into the entrance and +with a bound into the center of the tent, sub-machinegun in hand. +"_All right, everybody. On your feet. The place is raided!_" + +Dave Moroka leaped to his feet, his hand tearing with blurring speed +for his holstered hand gun. "Where's that bodyguard?" he yelled. + + +VII + +"Hold it," Homer Crawford roared, jumping to his own feet and grabbing +the South African in his arms. He glared at the newcomer. "Kenny, you +idiot, you're lucky you don't have a couple of holes in you." + +Kenny Ballalou, grinning widely, stared at Dave Moroka. "Jeepers," he +said, "you got that gun out fast. Don't you ever stick 'em up when +somebody has the drop on you?" + +Dave Moroka relaxed, the side arm dropping back into its holster. +Homer Crawford released him and the South African ran a hand over his +mouth and shook his head ruefully at Kenny. + +Isobel and Cliff crowded up, the one to kiss Kenny happily, the other +to pound him on the back. + +Homer made introductions to Dave Moroka and the Peters brothers. + +"I've told you about Kenny," he wound it up. "I sent him over to the +west to raise a harka of Nemadi to help in taking Tamanrasset." He +joined Cliff Jackson in giving the smaller man an affectionate blow on +the shoulder. "What luck did you have, Kenny?" + +Kenny Ballalou rubbed himself ruefully. "If you two will stop beating, +I'll tell you. I didn't recruit a single Nemadi." + +Homer Crawford looked at him. + +Kenny said to the tent at large. "Anybody got a drink around here? +Good grief, have I been covering ground." + +Isobel bustled off to a corner where she'd amassed most of their +remaining European type supplies, but she kept her attention on him. + +Dave Moroka said, his voice unbelieving, "You mean you haven't brought +any assistance _at all_?" + +Kenny grinned around at them. "I didn't say that. I said I didn't +recruit any of the Nemadi. I never even got as far as their +territory." + +Homer Crawford sank back onto the small crate he'd been using as a +chair before Kenny's precipitate entrance. "O.K.," he said, "stop +dramatizing and let us know what happened." + +Kenny spread his hands in a sweeping gesture. "The country's alive +from here to Bidon Cinq and south to the Niger. Bourem and Gao have +gone over to El Hassan and a column of followers was descending on +Niamey. They should be there by now. I never got as far as Nemadi +country. I could have recruited ten thousand fighting men, but I +didn't know what we'd do with them in this country. So I weeded +through everybody who volunteered and took only veterans. Men who'd +formerly been in the French forces, or British, or whatever. Louis +Wallington and his team were in Bourem when I got there and--" + +"Who is Louis Wallington?" Jack Peters said. + +Homer looked over at the Peters brothers and Dave Moroka. "Head of a +six-man Sahara Development Project team like the one I used to head." +His eyes went back to Kenny. "What about Louis?" + +"He's come in with us. Didn't know how to get in touch, so he was +working on his own. And Pierre Dupaine. Remember him, the fellow from +Guadeloupe in the French West Indies, used to be an operative of the +African Affairs sector of the French Community? Well, he and a half +dozen of his colleagues have come in and were leading an expedition on +Timbuktu. But Timbuktu had already joined up too, before they got +there--" + +"Wow," Homer said. "It's really spreading." + +Cliff said, "Why isn't all this on the radio?" + +Isobel had brought Kenny a couple of ounces of cognac from their +meager supply. He knocked it back thankfully. + +Kenny said to Cliff, "Things are moving too fast, and communications +have gone to pot." He looked at Homer. "Have any of these journalists +found you yet?" + +"What journalists?" + +Kenny laughed. "You'll find out. Half the newspapers, magazines, +newsreels and TV outfits in the world are sending every man they can +release into this area. They're going batty trying to find El Hassan. +Man, do you realize the extent of the country your followers now +dominate?" + +Homer said blankly, "I hadn't thought of it. Besides, most of what +you've been saying is news to us here. We've been keeping on the +prod." + +Kenny grinned widely. "Well, the nearest I can figure it, El Hassan is +ruler of an area about the size of Mexico. At least it was yesterday. +By today, you can probably tack on Texas." + +Jimmy Peters, serious faced as usual, said, "Things are moving so +fast, we're going to have to run to keep ahead of El Hassan's +followers. One thing, Homer, we're going to have to have a press +secretary." + +"Elmer Allen was going to handle that, but he's still up north," +Isobel said. + +"I'll do it. Used to be a newspaperman, when I was younger," Dave +Moroka said quickly. + +Isobel frowned and began to say something, but Homer said, "Great, you +handle that, Dave." Then to Kenny, "Where're your men and how well are +they armed?" + +"Well, that's one trouble," Kenny said unhappily. "We requisitioned +motor transport from some of the Sahara Afforestation Project oases +down around Tessalit. In fact, Ralph Sandell, their chief mucky-muck +in those parts, has come over to us. But we haven't got much in the +way of shooting irons." + +Homer Crawford closed his eyes wearily. "What it boils down to, still, +is that a hundred of those Arab Legionnaires, with their armor, could +finish us all off in ten minutes if it came to open battle." + + * * * * * + +El Hassan continued moving his headquarters, usually daily, but he +eluded the journalists only another twelve hours. Then they were upon +the mobile camp like locusts. + +And David Moroka took over with a calm efficiency that impressed all. +In the first place, he explained, El Hassan was much too busy to +handle the press except for one conference a week. In the second +place, he spoke only Esperanto to foreigners. Meanwhile, he, Dave +Moroka, would handle all their questions, make arrangements for +suitable photographs, and for the TV and newsreel boys to trundle +their equipment as near the front lines as possible. And, meanwhile, +James and John Peters of El Hassan's staff had prepared press releases +covering the El Hassan movement and its program. + +Homer, to the extent possible, was isolated from the new elements +descending upon his encampment. Attempting anything else would have +been out of the question. At this point, he was getting approximately +four hours of sleep a night. + +Kenny Ballalou was continually coming and going in a mad attempt to +handle the logistics of supplying several thousand men in a desert +area all but devoid of either water or graze, not to speak of food, +petroleum products and ammunition. + +Isobel and Cliff were thrown into the positions of combination +secretaries, ministers of finance, assistant bodyguards, and all else +that nobody else seemed to handle, _including_ making coffee. + +It was Isobel who approached a subject which had long worried her, as +they drove across country, the only occupants of one of the original +hover-lorries, during a camp move. + +She said, hesitantly, "Homer, is it a good idea to give Dave such a +free hand with the press? You know, there are some fifty or so of them +around now and they must be influencing the TV, radio, magazines and +newspapers of the world." + +"He seems to know more about it than any of the rest of us," Homer +said, his eyes on the all but sand-obliterated way. "We're going to +have to move more of the men south. We simply haven't got water enough +for them. There'd be enough in Tamanrasset, but not out here. Make a +note to cover this with Kenny. I wonder where Bey is, and Elmer." + +Isobel made a note. She said, "Yes, but the trouble is, he's a +comparative newcomer. Are you _sure_ he's in complete accord with the +original plan, Homer? Does the El Hassan dream mean the same to him as +it does to you, and ... well, me?" + +He shot her an impatient glance, even as he hit the lift lever to +raise them over a small dune. "You and Dave don't hit it off very +well. He's a good man, so far as I can see." + +Her delicate forehead wrinkled and her pixie face showed puzzlement. +"I don't know why. I get along with most people, Homer." + +He patted her hand. "You can't please everybody, Isobel. Listen, +something's got to be done about this king-size mob of camp followers +we've got. Did you know Common Europe sent in a delegation this +morning?" + +"Delegation? Common Europe--?" + +"Yeah. Haven't had time to discuss it with you. They found us just +before we raised camp. Evidently, the British Commonwealth and +possibly the Soviet Complex--some Chinese, I think--are also trying to +locate us. Half of these people are without their own equipment and +supplies, but that's not what worries me right now. We used to be able +to camouflage our headquarters camp. Dig into the desert and avoid the +aircraft. But if a group of bungling Common Market diplomats can +locate us, what's to keep the Arab Legion from doing it and blessing +us with a stick of neopalm bombs?" + +Isobel said, "Look, before we leave Dave. Did you know he was +confiscating all radio equipment brought into our camp by the newsmen +and whoever else?" + +Homer frowned. "Well, why?" + +"Espionage, Dave says. He's afraid some of these characters might be +in with the Arab Union and inform on us." + +"Well, that makes some sense," Homer nodded. + +"Does it?" Isobel grumbled. + +He shot an irritated glance at her again and said impatiently, "Can't +the poor guy do anything right?" + +"My woman's intuition is working," Isobel grumbled. + + * * * * * + +Dave Moroka came into headquarters tent without introduction. He was +one of the half dozen who had permission for this. He had a sheaf of +papers in his left hand and was frowning unhappily. + +"What's the crisis?" Homer said. + +"Scouts coming up say your pal Bey-ag-Akhamouk is on the way. +Evidently, with a big harka of Teda from the Sudan." + +"Great." Homer crowed. "Now we'll get going." + +"Ha!" Dave said. "From what we hear, a good many are camel mounted. +How are we going to feed them? Already some of the Songhai Kenny +brought up from the south have drifted away, unhappy about supplies." + +"Bey's a top man," Homer told him. "The best. He'll have some ideas on +our tactics. Meanwhile, we can turn over most of his men to one of the +new recruits, and head them down to take Fort Lamy. With Fort Lamy and +Lake Chad in our hands we'll control a chunk of Africa so big +everybody else will start wondering why they shouldn't jump on the +bandwagon while the going is good." + +Dave said, "Well, that brings up something else, Homer. These new +recruits. In the past couple of days, forty or fifty men who used to +be connected with African programs sponsored by everybody from the +Reunited Nations to this gobblydygook outfit Cliff and Isobel once +worked for, the AFAA, have come over to El Hassan. The number will +probably double by tomorrow, and triple the next day." + +"Fine," Homer said. "What's wrong with that? These are the people +that will really count in the long run." + +"Nothing's wrong with it, within reason. But we're going to have to +start becoming selective, Homer. We've got to watch what jobs we let +these people have, how much responsibility we give them." + +Homer Crawford was frowning at him. "How do you mean?" + +"See here," the wiry South African said plaintively, "when El Hassan +started off there were only a half dozen or so who had the dream, as +you call it. O.K. You could trust any one of them. Bey, Kenny, Elmer, +Cliff, this Jake Armstrong that you've sent to New York, Rex +Donaldson, then Jimmy and Jack Peters and myself. We all came in when +the going was rough, if not impossible. But now things are different. +_It looks as though El Hassan might actually win._" + +"So?" Homer didn't get it. + +"So from now on, you're going to have an infiltration of cloak and +dagger lads from every outfit with an interest in North Africa. +Potential traitors, potential assassins, subversives and what not." + +Homer was scowling at him. "Confound it, what do you suggest? That +these Johnny-Come-Latelies be second-class citizens?" + +"Not exactly that, but this isn't funny. We've got to screen them. The +trouble with this movement is that it's a one-man deal, and has to be. +The average African is either a barbarian or an actual savage, one +ethnic degree lower. He wants a hero-symbol to follow. O.K., you're +it. But remember both Moctezuma and Atahualpa. Their socio-economic +systems pyramided up to them. The Spanish conquistadores, being old +hands at sophisticated European-type intrigue, quickly sized up the +situation. They kidnaped the hero-symbol, the big cheese, and later +killed him. And the Inca and the Aztec cultures collapsed." + +Homer was scowling at him unhappily. + +Dave summed it up. "All we need is one fuzzy minded commie from the +Soviet Complex, or one super-dooper democrat who thinks that El Hassan +stands in the way of _freedom_, whatever that is, and bingo a couple +of bullets in your tummy and the El Hassan movement folds its tents +like the Arabs and takes a powder, as the old expression goes." + +"You have your point," Homer Crawford admitted. "Follow through, Dave. +Figure out some screening program." + + * * * * * + +Cliff came in. "Hey, Homer. Guess what old Jake has done." + +"Jake Armstrong?" + +"He's swung the Africa for Africans Association in New York over to +us. They've raised a million bucks. What'll we do with it? How can he +get anything to us?" + +"We'll have him plow it back into publicity and further fund raising +campaigns," Homer said. "That's the way it's done. You raise some +money for some cause and then spend it all on a bigger campaign to +raise still more money, and what you get from that one you plow into a +still bigger campaign." + +Cliff said, "Don't you _ever_ get anything out of it?" + +Dave and Homer both laughed. + +Cliff said, "I've got some still better news." + +"Good news, we can use," Homer said. + + * * * * * + +The big Californian looked at him in pretended awe. "A poet no less," +he said. + +"Shut up," Homer said. "What's the news?" + +The fact of the matter was, he was becoming increasingly impatient of +the continual banter expected of him by Cliff and even the others. As +original members of the team, they expected an intimacy that he was +finding it increasingly difficult to deliver. Among other things, he +wished that Cliff, in particular, would mind his attitude when such +followers as Guemama were present. The El Hassan posture could be +maintained only in never to be compromised dignity. + +Bey had once compared him to Alexander, to Homer's amusement at the +time. But now he was beginning to sympathize with the position the +Macedonian leader had found himself in, betwixt the King-God conscious +Persians, and the rough and ready Companions who formed his bodyguard +and crack cavalry units. A King-God simply didn't banter with his +subordinates, not even his blood-kin. + +Cliff scowled at him now, at the sharpness of Homer's words, but he +made his report. + +"Our old pal, Sven Zetterberg. He's gone out on a limb. Because of the +great danger of this so-far localized fight spreading into world-wide +conflict--says old Sven--the Reunited Nations will not tolerate the +combat going into the air. He says that if _either_ El Hassan or the +Arab Legion resort to use of aircraft, the Reunited Nations will send +in its air fleet." + +"Wow," Homer said. "All the aircraft we've got are a few slow-moving +heliocopters that Kenny brought up with him." + +Dave Moroka snapped his fingers in a gesture of elation. "That means +Zetterberg is throwing his weight to our side." + +Homer was on his feet. "Send for Kenny and Guemama and send a +heliocopter down to pick up Bey and rush him here. He shouldn't be +more than a day's march away. I wonder what Elmer is up to. No word at +all from him. At any rate, we want an immediate council of war. With +Arab Legion air cover eliminated, we can move in." + +Cliff said sourly, "It's still largely rifles against armored cars, +tanks, mobile artillery and even flame throwers." + + * * * * * + +All the old hands were present. They stood about a map table, Homer +and Bey-ag-Akhamouk at one end, the rest clustered about. Isobel sat +in a chair to the rear, stenographer's pad on her knees. + +Bey was clipping out suggestions. + +"We have them now. Already our better trained men are heading up for +Temassinine to the north and Fort Charlet to the east. We'll lose men +but we'll knock out every water hole between here and Libya. We'll cut +every road, blow what few bridges there are." + +Jack Peters said worriedly, "But the important thing is Tamanrasset. +What good--" + +"We're cutting their supply line," Bey told him. "Can't you see? +Colonel Ibrahim and his motorized column will be isolated in +Tamanrasset. They won't be able to get supplies through without an air +lift and Sven Zetterberg's ultimatum kills that possibility. They're +blocked off." + +Jimmy Peters was as confused as his brother. "So what? to use the +Americanism. They have both food and water in abundance. They can hold +out indefinitely. Meanwhile, our forces are undisciplined irregulars. +We gain a thousand recruits a day. They come galloping in on +camel-back or in beat-up old vehicles, firing their hunting rifles +into the air. But we also lose a thousand a day. They get bored, or +hungry, and decide to go back to their flocks, or their jobs on the +new Sahara projects. At any rate, they drift off again. It looks to me +that, if Colonel Ibrahim can hold out another week or so, our forces +might melt away--all except the couple of hundred or so European and +American educated followers. And, cut down to that number, they'll +eliminate us in no time flat." + +Homer Crawford was eying him in humor. "You're no fighting man, +Peters. Tell me, what is the single most fearsome enemy of an +ultra-mechanized soldier with the latest in military equipment and +super-firepower weapons?" + +Jimmy Peters was blank. "I suppose a similarly armed opponent." + +Homer smiled at him. "Rather, a man with a knife." + +The expressions of the Peters brothers showed resentment. "We weren't +jesting." + +"Neither was I," Homer rapped. He looked around at the rest, including +Bey and Kenny. "What happens to a modern mechanized army when it runs +out of gasoline? What happens to a water-cooled machine gun when there +is no water? What use is a howitzer when the target is a single man in +ten acres of cover? Gentlemen, have any of you ever studied the +tactics of Abd-el-Krim or, more recently still, Tito? Bey, I assume +you have." + +He had their attention. + +"During the Second War," Homer continued, "this Yugoslavian Tito tied +up two Nazi army corps with a handful of partisans--guerrillas. The +most modern army in the world, the German Panzers, tried to ferret him +out for five years, and couldn't. There are other examples. The +Chinese operating against the Japs in the same war. Or one of the +classic examples is Abd-el-Krim destroying two different Spanish +armies in the Moroccan Rif in the 1920s. His barefoot men, armed with +rifles, took on Primo de Rivera's modernized Spanish armies and +trounced them." + +Bey said, "Homer's right. Our only tactics are guerrilla ones." + +Homer Crawford looked at Guemama, who had been standing in the +background, unfamiliar with the language these others spoke, but +holding his dignity. Crawford said, diplomatically, "And what sayest +thou, O chieftain of the Tuareg?" + +Guemama was gratified at the attention. He said in Tamaheq, "As all +men know, O El Hassan, we now outnumber by thrice the Arab _giaours_ +may they burn in Gehennum. Therefore, let us rush in and kill them +all." + +Bey shuddered. + +Homer Crawford nodded seriously. "Ai, Guemama, that would be the +valorous way of the Tuareg. But the heart of El Hassan forbids him to +sacrifice the lives of his people. Consequently, we shall use the +tactics of the desert jackal. Instruct those of your people who are +most cunning, to infiltrate Tamanrasset in the night. Let them not +carry arms for they may well be searched by the Arab _meleccha_." + +The Tuareg chieftain was intrigued. "And what shall they do in +Tamanrasset, El Hassan? Suddenly seize arms, one night, and rise up in +wrath against the Arab dogs and kill them all?" + +Homer was shaking his head. "They will address themselves to the +Haratin serfs and spread to them the message of El Hassan. They will +be told that in the world of El Hassan each man shall be free to seek +his own destiny to the extent his mind and abilities allow. And no man +shall be the less because he was born a serf, and no man the more +because he was born to wealth or power in the old days." + +[Illustration] + +"Aiii," Guemama all but moaned. "But such a message--" + +"Is the message of El Hassan, as all men know," Homer Crawford said +flatly. He turned to Kenny Ballalou. "Kenny, take over this angle. We +want as many propagandists in that town as possible. It's already +choked with refugees, most of them not knowing what they're fleeing. +We might get recruits there, too. But mostly we want to appeal to the +sedentary natives in town. They've got to get the dreams, too. Promise +them schools, land ... I don't have to tell you." + +"Right," Kenny said. + +Isobel said, "Maybe I ought to get in on this, too. The women might do +a better job than men on this slant. It's going to take a lot to get a +Tuareg bedouin to sink to talking to a Haratin on an equal basis." + +Bey and Homer had bent back over the maps, but before they could get +back into the details of guerrilla warfare against Colonel Ibrahim and +his legionnaires, they were halted by a controversy from without. + +"What now?" Homer growled. "This camp is getting to be like a +three-ring circus." + +The entrance flap was pushed aside and three of Bey's Sudanese +tribesmen half escorted, half pushed a newcomer front and center. + +It was Fredric Ostrander, natty as usual, but now in khaki desert +wear. He was obviously in a rage at the three rifle-carrying nomads +who had him in charge. + +Bey spoke to the Teda warriors in their own tongue. Then to Homer in +Tamaheq, which he assumed the C.I.A. man didn't know, "They picked him +up in the desert in a hover-jeep. He was evidently looking for our +camp." He dismissed the three bedouin with a gesture. + +Ostrander was outraged. He snapped at Homer Crawford, "I demand an +explanation of this cavalier attack upon--" + +His face expressionless, Homer held up a hand to quiet the smaller +man. He looked at Jack Peters and raised his eyebrows. "_Kion li la +fremdul diras?_" + +Jack, serious as ever, replied in Esperanto, then turned to the +American C.I.A. man and said, "El Hassan has requested that I +translate for him. He speaks only the official language of North +Africa to foreign representatives. Undoubtedly, sir, you have proper +credentials?" + +Had Fredric Ostrander been of lighter complexion, his color would have +undoubtedly gone dark red. + +"Look here, Crawford," he snapped. "I'm in no mood for nonsense. The +State Department has sent me to your headquarters to make another +attempt to bring some sense home to you. As an American citizen, +owing alliance--" + +Homer Crawford spoke in Esperanto to Jack Peters who nodded seriously +and said to Ostrander, "El Hassan informs you he owes alliance only to +the people of North Africa whose chosen leader he is." + +Ostrander knew they were kidding him, but at the same time the stand +being taken was actuality. He glared at the Americans present whom he +knew, Bey, Isobel, Cliff and Kenny. He snapped, "Very well, but I +repeat what I told you when last we met. The State Department of the +United States of the Americas will not stand idly by and see this area +taken over by elements dominated by red subversives." + +"Holy Mackerel," Cliff growled, "are you still tooting that horn?" + +Dave Moroka said sarcastically, "It's an old wheeze. The definition of +a red subversive is anybody who doesn't see eye to eye with the United +States. They've been pulling the gag for decades. Remember Guatemala +and Cuba? Do anything that interferes with American business abroad +and the cry goes up, _he's an enemy of the free world!_" + +Ostrander spun on him, his eyes narrowing. + +Dave laughed. "The definition of members of the free world, of course, +being anybody who follows the American line. Anybody is free, Spanish +and Portuguese dictators, absolute monarchs in Arabia, Chinese +warlords, if they're on the American side." + +Ostrander snapped, "I don't believe we've met." + +Moroka made a sweeping bow. "I'm afraid we don't move in the same +circles. I've spent possibly a third of my life in prison--" + +"Undoubtedly," Ostrander snorted. + +"... Put there by people such as yourself--in various +countries--because I was fighting for my own version of freedom." + +"Communism, undoubtedly!" + +Moroka said softly, "I'm a South African, sir. Both my parents were +killed in the 1960 riots. It seems that they had dark skins--even as +you and I--and weren't able to see why that should keep them from +_freedom_." + +Fredric Ostrander spun back to Homer Crawford. "I'm not here to +quibble with self-confessed malcontents. I've been sent to represent +the State Department, to report to them, and, above all, to do what I +can to prevent your activities from redounding to the further +advantage of the Soviet Complex. I assume you can assign me quarters." + +Straight-faced, Jack Peters translated this into Esperanto, and, +straight-faced, Homer answered in the same language. + +Jack turned back to the impatient C.I.A. man. "El Hassan welcomes the +representative of the United States of the Americas and hopes this +will be the first step toward diplomatic recognition between North +Africa and your great country. He has instructed me to find you +quarters, which, possibly you may have to share with delegations from +Common Europe or"--Peters cleared his throat--"the Soviet Complex. He +further suggests that it might be well, if you maintain communications +with your superiors, to have sent to you books on Esperanto, the +official language of North Africa." + +Dave Moroka put in, "By the way, we'll have to go through your things. +We can't allow any radio communication from El Hassan's camp, except +through official El Hassan channels--for obvious military reasons." + +Ostrander snorted, stared indignantly at Homer again, spun on his heel +and stalked from the tent. Jack Peters followed him but not before +tipping an uncharacteristic wink at Homer. + +When they were gone, Homer sighed and looked at Dave Moroka. "That +reminds me, how are our other delegations coming?" + +The South African grinned ruefully. "They're playing it cool. Waiting +to see what way to jump. Give El Hassan some real success, and they'll +probably jump at the chance to be first to recognize him. Especially +these Soviet Complex opportunists. They'd just love to suck you into +their camp." + +Isobel looked at him. "After that tearing down you gave poor Ostrander +about the United States, now you rip into the Soviet Complex. Just +where do you stand, Dave?" + +Dave shrugged her question off, as though there were more important +things. "I'm an El Hassan man," he said. "Let those two overgrown +powers handle their own troubles." + +Jimmy Peters spoke up for the first time since Ostrander entered the +tent. "You know," he said, seriously, "I'm beginning to wonder if the +world can afford nationalistic patriotism. Haven't we gone too far +along the road to think of ourselves any longer as Americans, or +Russians, or French, or West Indians, or whatever? Hasn't the human +race grown up beyond that point?" + +Kenny said mockingly, "What! Aren't you proud of being a West Indian, +and a loyal subject of Her Majesty?" + +Peters ignored his tone. "Why should I be proud of my country? It was +an accident of birth with which I had nothing to do, that made me a +West Indian, rather than a Canadian, a Chinese, a Norwegian, or +whatever. Intelligently, I should be proud only of things that I, +myself, have accomplished." + +Bey said, "If we can stop waxing philosophic for a while and get back +to how most efficiently to clobber these Arabs--" + + * * * * * + +The Hindu entered Kirill Menzhinsky's small office behind the Indian +souvenir shop in the Tangier Zocco Chico and said, "The operative +Anton is on the receiver." + +The agent superior of the _Chrezvychainaya Komissiya_ for North Africa +looked up from his desk and grunted acceptance of the message. He came +to his feet and followed the other into a back room and took his place +before a mouthpiece and screen. + +The man whose party name was Anton nodded a greeting. + +Kirill Menzhinsky said, "It's about time I heard from you, Anton." + +"Yes. But the situation has been such that it was not easy to report." + +"And now?" + +"Briefly, I am at El Hassan's headquarters. You were correct. He is in +actuality Homer Crawford. The others you mentioned are also with him, +including the traitor Isobel Cunningham." + +The Soviet Complex's agent allowed his eyebrows to rise. + +Anton said flatly, "The dame has evidently renounced the party and now +holds high rank in Crawford's inner circle." + +"And you?" + +"I am rapidly becoming his right-hand man. I am his press secretary +and in charge of communications. Early in our acquaintanceship I was +able to engineer an attempted assassination. I was able to, ah, save +the life of El Hassan." + +The Russian's eyes narrowed. "The assassins? Is there any chance that +they might reveal your little trick?" + +Anton grimaced. "I am not a fool, Kirill. Both of them were killed in +the assassination attempt. El Hassan was most grateful." + +"I see. And how would you sum up the present situation?" + +"This area is swinging rapidly to El Hassan, but any sort of defeat +and undoubtedly his followers would melt away. The bedouin are too +volatile. Before he ever makes any real headway he will have to take +the major commercial and industrial cities such as Dakar, Kano, +Lagos, Accra, Freetown, Khartoum, and eventually, of course, Cairo, +Casablanca, Algiers and so forth." + +"And our friend El Hassan leans not at all in our direction?" + +The man the Party called Anton shook his head. "He leans in no +direction, except that which will unite and modernize North Africa. +Neither do his immediate followers. They're a well-knit group and it +seems unlikely that I could pry any of them away from him in case it +became desirable." + +"I see," Kirill Menzhinsky muttered. "I understand that a delegation +from Moscow has arrived in El Hassan's camp. Have you contacted them?" + +"Certainly not. My orders were to rise in the El Hassan hierarchy and +await further orders. None of my current, ah, colleagues have any +suggestion that I am identified with the Party. Which reminds me, an +American C.I.A. man, Fredric Ostrander, has shown up. The fool seems +to be under the impression that El Hassan is a Party tool." + +"I know this Ostrander. Don't underestimate him, Anton. He's an +extremely competent operative in the clutch, as the Americans call +it." + +"Perhaps. But nevertheless, there is no indication that the El Hassan +movement leans either to East or West, nor do I see any signs that it +is apt to in the future." + +The Russian was scowling. "I see. Then perhaps it will be necessary +for us to do something to topple our El Hassan before he becomes much +stronger, and to find another to unite North Africa." + +Anton frowned in his turn. "I don't know. This man Crawford--and his +followers, for that matter--are motivated by high ideals. As you have +said, North Africa is not ready for our socio-economic system. Men of +the caliber of Homer Crawford could bring it into the modern age +perhaps more quickly than another." + +Menzhinsky chuckled. "Don't worry about it, Anton. Such matters of +policy will be decided by others than you, or even me. Keep in touch +with me more often, in the future, Anton." + +"Yes, Comrade." His face faded from the screen. + + * * * * * + +Tamanrasset lies at an altitude of approximately 4,600 feet, about +average for the Ahaggar plateau. Around it, such peaks as the Tahat +reach 9,600 feet above sea level. The country is rugged, jagged, bleak +beyond belief. With the possible exception of Southern Afghanistan in +the Khyber area, there is no place in the world more suited for +guerrilla warfare, less suited for the proper utilization of modern +armor, particularly when the latter is forced to work without air +cover. + +Homer Crawford, equipped with an old-style telescope, was +spread-eagled on top a rock outcropping, his only companion Isobel +Cunningham. Directly before him, possibly two miles in distance, was +the desert city of Tamanrasset, to the right, a kilometer or so, Amsel +where palatable water was to be found at eighteen meters depth. + +"Our friend, the colonel, is up to something," he grumbled. + +She had a pair of binoculars, of considerably less power than his +glass. + +"It looks as though Guemama's boys are on the run," she said. + +"As per orders. The primary theory of partisan warfare is not to get +killed. The guerrilla never stands and fights. If the regular forces +he opposes can bring him to bay, they've got him." He interrupted +himself to clip out, "Look at that tank, darling! There on the left!" + +Isobel tightened, looked at him quickly from the side of her eyes. No. +He'd said it inadvertently, his mind concentrated on the fighting men +below. She had often wondered where she stood with Homer Crawford the +man, as opposed to El Hassan the idealist. The tip of her tongue +licked the side of her mouth, as she surreptitiously took him in. But +Crawford the man would have to wait, there was no time, no time. + +Isobel swung her glasses. "The one starting to go in a circle? There, +it stopped." + +"One of the snipers got its commander," Homer said. "You can't fight a +tank without the commander's head being up through the hatch. That's a +popular fallacy. You can't see well enough to fight your tank unless +you've got your head up. And that's suicide when you're against +guerrillas. The colonel ought to send his infantry out first." + +Isobel said, "What did you mean when you said that he's up to +something?" + +Homer's eye was still glued to the eyepiece of his glass. "He's leaving +his entrenchments and sending his vehicles out to capture our ... our +strong points." + +"You mean our water, don't you?" + +Bey came snaking up to them on his belly. He came abreast of Homer and +brought forth his own binoculars. He watched for a moment and then +muttered a curse under his breath. + +"Guemama better start pulling back those men more quickly," he said. + +"He will. He's a good man," Homer told him. "What's up?" + +"Evidently, Colonel Ibrahim has decided to come out of retirement. +He's sent small motorized elements to Effok, In Fedjeg, Otoul and even +to Tahifet." + +"And--?" + +"And has taken them all, of course. Our men fall back, fighting a +stubborn rear-guard action, taking as few casualties as possible." + +"I don't get it," Homer bit out. "He's using up his fuel and +ammunition and losing more men than we are. Certainly he can't figure, +with the thousand odd troops he has, to be able to take and hold +enough of the oases and water holes in this vicinity to push us out +completely." + +Bey said, "What worries me is the possibility that he knows something +we don't. That he's figuring on being relieved or has a new source of +fuel, ammunition and men on tap." + +"The roads are cut. Our men hold every source of water from here to +Libya and the Reunited Nations has put thumbs down on aircraft which +eliminates an air lift." + +"Yeah," Bey said, unhappily. + + * * * * * + +That evening, following the day's last meal, Cliff came into the +headquarters tent grinning, broadly. "Hey, guess what we've +liberated." + +"A bottle of Scotch?" Kenny said hopefully. + +"A king-size portable radio transmitter. Ralph Sandell knew about it. +The Sahara Afforestation Project people were going to use it to +propagandize the tribesmen into coming in and taking jobs in the new +oases." + +Dave Moroka, who'd been censoring press releases, shook his head. +"That's why we need an El Hassan in this country," he complained. +"They put a couple of million dollars into a radio transmitter, never +asking themselves how many of the bedouin own radios." + +Jack Peters said, "Wait a moment, you chaps. Didn't Bey capture a +couple of Arab Legion radio technicians today?" + +"They defected to us," Homer Crawford said, looking up from an +improvised desk where he was poring over some supply papers with +Isobel. "What did you have in mind, Jack?" + +"There are radios in Tamanrasset. In fact, there's probably a radio in +every one of those military vehicles of Ibrahim's. Why can't we +blanket these Arab Union chaps with El Hassan propaganda? Quite a few +of them are from Libya, Tunisia and Egypt. In short, they're Africans +and susceptible to El Hassan's dream." + +"Good man. Take over the details, Jack," Homer said. He went back to +his work with Isobel. + +Jimmy Peters entered with some papers in hand. He said, seriously, +"The temperature is rising in the Reunited Nations--and everywhere +else, for that matter. Damascus and Cairo have been getting +increasingly belligerent. Homer, it looks as though the Arab Union is +getting ready to go out on a limb. Weeks have passed since Colonel +Ibrahim first took Tamanrasset and the Reunited Nations, the United +States, the Soviet Complex and all others interested in North Africa, +have failed to do anything. Everybody, evidently, afraid of +precipitating something that couldn't be ended." + +All eyes went to Homer Crawford who ran a black hand back over his +hair in weariness. "I know," he said. "Something is about to blow. +Dave has sent some of his best men into Tamanrasset to pick up gossip +in the souks. Morale was dragging bottom among the legionnaires just a +couple of days ago. Now they seem to have a new lease." + +"In spite of the sabotage our people have been committing?" Isobel +said. + +"That's falling off somewhat," Cliff said. "At first our more +enthusiastic followers were able to pull everything from heaving +Molotov Cocktails into tanks, to pouring sugar in hover-jeep gas +tanks, but the legionnaires have both smartened up and gotten very +tough." + +"Good," Dave Moroka said now. + +They looked at him. + +"Atrocities," he said. "In order to guard against sabotage, the +legionnaires will be taking measures that will antagonize the people +in Tamanrasset. They'll shoot a couple of teenage kids, or something, +then they'll have a city-wide mess on their hands." + +Isobel said unhappily, "It seems a nasty way to win a war." + +Dave grunted his contempt of her opinion. "There is no way of winning +a war other than a nasty one." + +Bey came in, yawning hugely. His energy was inconceivable to the +others. So far as was known, he hadn't slept, other than sitting erect +in a moving vehicle, for the past four days. He said to Homer, "Fred +Ostrander has been bending my ear for the past hour or so. Do you want +to talk to him?" + +"About what?" Homer said. + +"I don't know. He has a lot of questions. I think he's beginning to +suspect--just _suspect_, understand--that possibly the whole bunch of +us aren't receiving our daily instructions from either Moscow or +Peking." + +Dave and Cliff both laughed. + +Homer sighed and said, "Show him in. He's the only thing we have in +the way of a contact with the United States of the Americas and sooner +or later we're going to have to make our peace with both them and the +Soviet Complex. In fact, what we're probably going to have to do is +play one against the other, getting grants, loans, economic +assistance--" + +"Technicians, teachers, arms," Bey continued the list. + +Kenny Ballalou looked at him and snorted. "Arms! If there's anything +this part of the world doesn't need it's more arms. In fact, that goes +for the rest of the world, too. In the old days when the great nations +were first beginning to attempt to line up the neutrals they sent aid +to such countries by the billions--and most of it in arms. How +ridiculous can you get? Putting arms in the hands of most of the +governments of that time was like handing a loaded pistol to an +idiot." + +Bey hung his head in mock humility. "I bow before your wisdom," he +said. He left the room to get Ostrander. + + * * * * * + +The C.I.A. man had lost a fraction of his belligerence, but none of +his arrogance and natty appearance. Homer wondered vaguely how the +other managed to remain so spruce in the inadequate desert camp. + +Jack Peters said, "What did you wish to ask El Hassan? I will +translate." + +"Never mind that, Jack," Homer said. "We'll get tougher about using +our official language when we've gone a little further in building +our new government." He said to Ostrander, "What can I do for you? +Obviously, my time, is limited." + +Fredric Ostrander said, "I've been gathering material for reports to +my superiors. I've been doing a good deal of questioning, and, +frankly, even prying around." + +Cliff grunted. + +Ostrander went on. "I've also read the various press releases, +manifestoes and so forth that your assistants have been compiling." + +"We know," Homer said. "We haven't put any obstacles in your way. We +haven't any particular secrets, Mr. Ostrander." + +"You disguise the fact that you are an American," the C.I.A. man said +accusingly. + +Homer said slowly, "Only because El Hassan _is not_ an American, Mr. +Ostrander. He is an African with African solutions to African +problems. That is what he must be if he is to accomplish his task." + +Ostrander seemed to switch subjects. "See here, Crawford, the State +Department is not completely opposed to the goal of uniting North +Africa. It would solve many problems, both African and international." + +Kenny Ballalou laughed softly. "You mean, you're on our side?" + +Ostrander turned to him, for once not incensed at being needled. +"Possibly more than you'd think," he rapped. He turned back again to +Homer Crawford. "The question becomes, why do you think that _you_ are +the man for the job? Who gave _you_ the go-ahead?" + +Bey, who had settled down into a folding camp chair, now came to his +feet, his tired face angry. + +But Homer waved him to silence. "Hold it," he said. Then to Ostrander. +"It doesn't work that way. It's not something you decide to do because +you're thirsty for power, or greedy for money. You're pushed into it. +Do you think Washington, a retired Virginian planter wrapped up in his +estate and his family, wanted to spend years leading the revolutionary +armies through the wilderness that was America in those days? He was +thrust into the job, there was no one else more competent to take it. +Men make the times, Ostrander, but the times also make the men. Look +at Lenin and Trotsky. Three months before the October Revolution, +Lenin wrote that he never expected to see in his lifetime the +Bolsheviks come to power. Within those months he was at the head of +government and Trotsky, a former bookworm who had never fired a gun in +his life, was head of the Red Army and being proclaimed a military +genius." + +Ostrander was scowling at him, but his face was thoughtful. + +Homer said quietly, "It's not always an easy thing, to have power thrust +into your hands. Not always a desirable thing." His voice went quieter +still. "Only a short time ago it led me to the necessity of ... +killing ... my best friend." + +"And mine," Isobel said softly, almost under her breath. + +Dave Moroka said, "Abe Baker," before he caught himself. + +Kenny Ballalou looked at him strangely. "Did you know Abe?" + +The South African recovered. "I've heard several of you mention him +from time to time. He was a commie, wasn't he?" + +"Yes," Homer said without inflection. "And a man. He saved my life on +more than one occasion. As long as we worked together with only Africa +in mind, there was no conflict. But Abe had a further, and, to him, +greater alliance." + +He turned his attention back to the C.I.A. man. "A man does what he +must do," he finished simply. "I did not ask to become El Hassan." + +Ostrander said, "Your motivation is possibly beside the point. The +thing is that the battle for men's minds continues and your program, +eventually, must align with the West." + +"And get clobbered in the stampeding around between the two great +powers," Kenny said dryly. + +"You've got to take your stand," Ostrander said. "I'd rather die under +the neutron bomb, than spend the rest of my life on my knees under a +Soviet Complex government. Wouldn't you?" His eyes went from one of +them to the other, defiantly. + +Homer said slowly. "No, even though that was the only alternative, +which is unlikely. Not if it meant finishing off the whole human race +at the same time." He shook his head. "If it were only me, it might be +different. But if it was a matter of nuclear war the whole race might +well end. Given such circumstances, I'd be proud to remain on my +knees the rest of my life. You see, Ostrander, you make the mistake of +thinking the Soviet socio-economic system is a permanent thing. It +isn't. It's changing daily, even as our own socio-economic system is. +Even if the Soviet Complex were to dominate the whole world, it would +be but a temporary phase in man's history. Their regime, in its time, +right or wrong, will go under in man's march to whatever his destiny +might be. Some day it will be only a memory, and so will the +socio-economic systems of the West. No institutions are less permanent +than politico-economic ones." + +"I don't agree with you," Ostrander snapped. + +"Obviously," Homer shrugged. "However, this is another problem. El +Hassan deals with North Africa. The other problems you bring up we +admit, but at this stage are not dealing with them. Our dream is in +Africa. Perhaps the Africans will be forced to taking other stands, to +dreaming new dreams, twenty or thirty years from now. When that time +comes, I assume the new problems will be faced. By that time there +will probably be no need for El Hassan." + +Ostrander looked at him and bit his lip in thought. + +It came to him now that he had never won in his contests with Homer +Crawford, and that he would probably never win. No matter how strong +his convictions, in the presence of the other man, something went out +of him. There was strength in Crawford that must be experienced to be +understood. When he talked, he held you, and your own opinions became +nothing--stupidities on your lips. He had a dream, and in conversation +with him, all other things dropped away and nothing was of importance +but that dream. A dream? Possibly _disease_ was the better word. And +so highly contagious. + +[Illustration] + +While they talked, an aide had entered and handed a report to +Bey-ag-Akhamouk. He read it and closed his eyes in weariness. + +"What's up, Bey," Homer asked. + +"I don't know. Colonel Ibrahim has stepped up his attacks in all +directions. At least two thirds of his force is on the offensive. It +doesn't make much sense. But it must make sense to _him_, or he +wouldn't be doing it." + +Ostrander said, and to everyone's surprise there seemed to be an +element of worry in his voice too, "I know Colonel Midan Ibrahim, met +him in Cairo and in Baghdad on various occasions. He's considered one +of the best men in the Arab Legion. He doesn't make military +blunders." + +Bey said, "Come on, Kenny. Let's round up Guemama and take a look at +the front." He led the way from the tent. + + * * * * * + +There was a guard posted before the tent which doubled as press and +communications center, and the private quarters of David Moroka. + +The figure that approached timidly was garbed in the traditional +clothing of the young women of the Tegehe Mellet tribe of the Tuareg +and bore an _imzad_ in her left hand, while her right held a corner of +her gandoura over her face. + +The guard, of the Kel Rela tribe, eyed the one-stringed violin with +its string of hair and sounding box made of half a gourd covered with +a thin membrane of skin, and grinned. A Tuareg maid was accustomed to +sing and to make the high whining tones of desert music on the _imzad_ +before submitting to her lover's embrace. _Wallahi!_ but these women +of the Tegehe Mellet were shameless. + +"Where do you go?" he said gruffly. "El Hassan's vizier has ordered +that he is occupied and none should approach." + +"He awaits me," she wavered. There was _kohl_ about her eyes, and +indigo at the corners of her mouth. "We met at the _tendi_ last night +and he bid me come to his tent. It is for me he waits." + +_Wallahi!_ but his leader had taste, the sentry decided. + +"Pass," he said gruffly. Even a vizier of such importance as this one +must need solace at times, he decided philosophically. + +She slipped past silently to the tent entrance where the Tuareg guard +noticed she paused for a long moment before entering. He grinned into +his teguelmoust. Aiii, the little bird was timid before the hawk. + +She stood for a moment listening, and then slipped inside, dropping +the desert musical instrument to the ground. Dave Moroka's back was to +her and even as she entered he flicked off the switch of the +video-radio into which he had been speaking and scowled at it. + +When he stood and began to turn, she covered him with the small pocket +pistol. She had an ease in handling it which denoted competence. + +His eyebrows went up, but he remained silent, waiting for her gambit. + +Isobel said evenly, "You're a Party member, aren't you, Dave?" + +"Why do you say that?" + +She nodded infinitesimally to the set. "You were reporting just now. I +heard enough just as I came in." + +He took in her disguise. "My guard isn't as efficient as I had +thought," Dave said wryly. + +Isobel said, "You knew Abe Baker, didn't you?" + +He looked at her, expressionlessly. + +She said, "I already knew you belonged to the Party, Dave. No matter +how competent an agent, it's something difficult to hide from any +other long-time member. There's a terminology you use--such as calling +it the Soviet Union, rather than Russia. No commie ever says Russia, +it's always _the Soviet Union_. You can tell, just as a Roman Catholic +can tell a person raised in the Church, even though the other has +dropped away, or even as one Jew can tell another. Yes, I've known +you were a Party member for some time, Dave." + +"And?" the South African said. + +"Why are you here?" + +Dave Moroka said, "For the same reason you are, to further the El +Hassan dream, the uniting and modernization of the continent of my +racial heritage." + +"But you are still a Party member and still report to your superiors." + +Dave Moroka looked at the tiny gun she held in her hand. + +"Don't try it," she said. "I have seen you in action, Dave. I have +never seen a man move so ruthlessly fast ... but don't try it." + +"No reason to," he bit out. "Come on, let's go see Homer." + +She was slightly taken aback, but not enough to release her control +for even a split second. "Lead the way," she said. + + * * * * * + +Even at this time of evening, the headquarters tent was brightly lit +and most of the immediate El Hassan staff still at work. Homer +Crawford looked up as they entered. + +Cliff Jackson saw the gun first and said, "Holy Mackerel, Isobel." + +Fredric Ostrander was sitting to one side in discussion with the sober +faced Jack Peters. He took in the gun and slowly came to his feet, +obviously expecting climax. + +Isobel said, "Dave's taking over control of communications had method. +I just found him reporting to what must have been a superior ... in +the Party." + +Homer Crawford looked from the South African to Isobel, then back to +Dave again, without speaking. His eyes were questioning. + +Dave said, his voice sharp. "I haven't time for details now. Isobel's +right. I was a Party member." + +"Was?" Ostrander chuckled. "That's the understatement of the year. I +hadn't got around to revealing the fact as yet, but our friend Dave is +the notorious Anton, one of the Soviet Complex's most competent +hatchetmen." + +Dave looked at him only briefly. "Was," he reiterated. He turned his +attention to Homer and to Bey, who was staring tired dismay at this +new addition to the load. + +Homer still held his peace, waiting for the other to go on. + +"I found out tonight why Colonel Ibrahim is attacking, instead of +pulling in his horns as reason would dictate." Dave paused for +emphasis. "The Soviet Complex has thrown its weight, in this matter at +least, on the side of the Arab Union. They have insisted that Sven +Zetterberg be dismissed as head of the Sahara Division of the African +Development Project and that his threat to use Reunited Nations +aircraft if the local fighting spreads to the air, be repudiated." + +Kenny blurted, "Good grief ... that means--" + +Dave looked around at them, one by one. "It means," he said, "that the +Arab Legion is going to be reinforced tomorrow morning by a full +regiment of paratroopers." + +"Holy Mackerel," Cliff groaned. "We've had it. Another regiment of +crack troops in Tamanrasset and we'll _never_ take the town." + +Dave shook his head. "That's not the big thing. The paratroopers +aren't going to drop in Tamanrasset. They're going to hit every oasis, +every water hole, in a circumference of two hundred miles." + +There was an empty silence. + +Homer Crawford said finally, evenly, "In the expectation that every +follower of El Hassan in the Sahara will either surrender or die of +thirst, eh?" He didn't seem sufficiently impressed by the threatening +disaster. He looked at Dave questioningly. "Why do you bother to tell +us, Dave, if you're on the other side?" + +Dave grunted sour amusement. "Because I've just become a full member +of the team. I resigned from the Party tonight." + +"Brother," Bey said, "you sure pick a helluva time to join up." He +obviously was expressing the opinions of the majority. + +Homer Crawford came to his feet and looked around at them. "All +right," he said. "A new complication. Let's face up to it. There's +always an answer. We're in the clutch, let's fight our way out." + +Largely, they stared at him, but he ignored their dismay. He looked +from one to the other. "We need some ideas. Let's kick it around. +Isobel, Cliff, Jack, Kenny--?" His eyes went from one to the other. +Obviously his own mind was churning. + +They shook their heads dumbly. + +Kenny said, "Ideas! We've had it, Homer!" + +Homer Crawford spun on him and now the force they all knew was +emanating from him. He laughed his scorn. "A month ago we were half a +dozen fugitives. Now we're an army besieging a city. And you say we've +had it? Listen, Kenny, if we have to we'll go back to being half a +dozen fugitives again--those of us that are left. But the dream goes +on! However, we're not going to have to. We're too near victory in +this stage of the operation to sit down on the job because of a +threatened reverse. Now then, let's kick it around. Jimmy! Dave! +Kenny! Ostrander!" + +Fredric Ostrander raised his eyebrows only slightly at being included +in their number. + + * * * * * + +Bey, for once, was seemingly too exhausted to be brought to new +enthusiasm. He tossed a detail map of Tamanrasset to the table. "And +I'd just worked out a bang-up scheme for infiltrating into town, +joining up with our adherents there, and seizing it while most of +Ibrahim's men were out in the desert, trying to capture our nearer +water holes." + +Homer snapped, "It sounds like it still might have possibilities." + +Ostrander looked down at the map, his face very tight. "How long would +it take?" + +Bey scowled at him, defeat dulling his mind. "What?" + +"How long do you figure it would take to infiltrate Tamanrasset and +capture it? Behind Ibrahim's back, so to speak." + +Bey grunted. "A couple of hours in the early morning. I had a +beautiful picture of the colonel's armor out in the desert, cut off +from its petroleum supplies and ammunition dump while we held the +town. Some of our men, the former veterans of the French West African +forces, could have even operated the antitank guns he has mounted at +Fort Laperrine." + +The C.I.A. man's mouth worked. + +Homer Crawford's eyes pierced him. + +Ostrander walked over to the radio before which Kenny Ballalou sat. +"See if you can raise Colonel Ibrahim for me." + +Kenny scowled at him. "Why?" + +"Do it." + +Kenny looked at Homer Crawford. + +Homer said, "O.K. Do it." + +Kenny shrugged and turned to the set. While the others watched, +Crawford's face alert, his eyes narrowed, the rest of them dull in +apathy, the face of Colonel Ibrahim finally faded in on the screen. + +Fredric Ostrander took his place at the instrument. He nodded, +formally. "Greetings, Colonel, it seems a long time since last we met +in Amman." + +The Arab Legion officer smiled politely. "I had heard that you +represented the State Department in this area, Mr. Ostrander, and have +been somewhat surprised that you failed to make Tamanrasset your +headquarters. It would have been pleasant to have renewed old +friendship." + +Ostrander cleared his throat. "I am afraid that would have been +difficult, Colonel, particularly in view of the stand of my government +at this time." + +On the screen, the other's eyebrows went up. + +Ostrander said evenly, "Colonel, we have just been informed that a +regiment of paratroopers has been put at your disposal and that they +plan to land at various points in the Sahara in the morning." + +The colonel said stiffly, "This is military information which I am not +free to discuss, Mr. Ostrander." + +Frederic Ostrander went on, his voice still even. "We have further +been informed that the Reunited Nations has withdrawn its ban on +aircraft, which would seem to free your paratroop carrying planes." + +The colonel remained silent, waiting for the bombshell. It was obvious +that he expected a bombshell. + +Ostrander said, "As representative of the State Department I warn you +that if these paratroop carrying planes take off tomorrow morning, the +Seventh Airfleet of the United States of the Americas will enter the +conflict on the side of El Hassan. Good evening, Colonel." + +The C.I.A. man reached out and flicked the switch that killed the set. +Then he took the snowy white handkerchief from the breast pocket of +his jacket and wiped his mouth. + +Isobel said, "Heavens to Betsy." + +Kenny said indignantly, "Good grief, you fool, it won't take more than +hours for your superiors to repudiate you. Then what happens?" + +"By then, I assume, the battle will be over and Tamanrasset in El +Hassan's hands. The Arab Union will then think twice before committing +their paratroopers, particularly with captured armor in El Hassan's +hands." + +"And your name will be mud," Kenny blurted. + +Ostrander looked at Homer Crawford. "Gentlemen, you must remember that +I, too, am an African. I had thought that perhaps there would be a +position for me on El Hassan's staff." + +Crawford reached for the Tommy-Noiseless that leaned up against the +improvised desk at which he worked. He said, "Let's get moving, Bey. +We haven't much time. We're going to have to be able to announce its +capture _from_ Tamanrasset in a couple of hours." + +"Not you," Bey said, grabbing up his own weapon and motioning with his +head for Kenny and Cliff to come along. "You're El Hassan and can't be +risked." + +"I'm coming," Homer said flatly. "It's about time El Hassan began +taking some of the same risks his followers seem to be willing to +face. Besides, the men will fight better with me out in front. Got a +gun, Fred?" + +Ostrander said, "No. Where am I issued one?" + +"I'll show you," Homer said, stuffing extra clips in his bush jacket +pockets. "Come on, Dave." + +The whole group began heading for the open air, Bey already yelling +orders. + +Fredric Ostrander looked at Dave Moroka. "Strange bedfellows," he +said. + +Moroka grinned wryly. "My long view hasn't changed," he said. "It's +just that this African matter takes precedence right now." + +"Nor mine, of course," Ostrander said. He cleared his throat. +"However, I hope you last out the night. El Hassan needs strong men." + +"Same to you," Moroka said gruffly. "Let's get going, or the fight +will be over while we hand each other flowers." + + +_Epilogue_ + +El Hassan stood in the smoking, war-wasted ruin of Fort Laperine, his +mind empty. The body of Jack Peters was ten feet to his left, burned +beyond recognition and crumpled over a flame thrower which he'd +eliminated in the last few moments of the fighting. Had he let his +eyes go out the gun port before which he stood, it might have been +possible for El Hassan to have picked out the bodies of David Moroka +and Fredric Ostrander amidst those of the several hundred Haratin +serfs who had swarmed out of the souk area at the crucial moment and +stormed the half manned fort--unarmed save for knives and farm +implements. + +To his right, Dr. Warren Harding Smythe supervised two Tuareg who were +carrying off the broken body of Kenny Ballalou; there was still faint +life in it. + +The doctor looked at him. "You are satisfied, I assume?" + +El Hassan failed to hear him. + +Smythe turned and stomped off, following his impressed nurses. + +In the distance, Bey-ag-Akhamouk called hoarse orders from an +over-strained throat, placing guns for a counterattack that would +never come. The Arab Legion was broken and Colonel Ibrahim a prisoner. +Large numbers of the survivors were defecting to the banner of El +Hassan. + +He threw his empty Tommy-Noiseless to the side. All he wanted now was +sleep, the surcease of a few hours of oblivion. + +Isobel, her face wan from the horror of the agony of the combat whose +result was everywhere visible, was picking her way through the +wreckage with Cliff Jackson. + +El Hassan looked at her absently. Whatever message she bore held +little interest to him. + +Cliff said, "India has recognized El Hassan as legal head of state of +all North Africa. It is expected that Australia will follow before the +week is out." + +El Hassan nodded. For the time, not caring. + +Isobel said, "We have other word. It came by messenger." She closed +her eyes in pain and handed him a small box. + +He opened it and recognized the ring on the enclosed finger. He looked +up at them. + +Cliff Jackson growled low in his throat. "Elmer Allen. He's been +captured by a leader of the Ouled Touameur clan of the Ouled Allouch +tribe. You know this Abd-el-Kader?" + +El Hassan was staring down at the finger, his mind slowly clearing of +its fatigue. "He belongs to the Berazga division of the Chaambra +confederation. I had a run-in with him a few months ago and had him +jailed. He's nothing but a desert bandit on the make." + +Cliff said, "He's escaped, has thrown his weight behind the Arab +Union, proclaimed himself the Mahdi and is uniting Algeria and parts +of Morocco and Tunisia like a wildfire. The marabouts and Shorfa are +backing him." + +"Proclaimed himself the Mahdi?" Isobel said in question. + +El Hassan turned to the girl and took a deep breath. "The original +Mahdi was the holiest prophet since Mohammed and according to the more +superstitious Moslems, he's still alive. According to Islamic +tradition, he periodically shows up again in the desert and makes +various predictions. When he does, it almost always winds up with a +jihad, a holy war. Don't you remember in history the anti-British +Mahdi at Khartoum, the killing of Chinese Gordon and so forth? That +Mahdi was the son of a Dongola carpenter and he managed to conquer two +million square miles in two years." + +"But, what has this got to do with this Abd-el-Kader?" + +"He's evidently proclaimed himself sort of a reincarnation of the +original Mahdi. He's out to do the same thing we are--to unite North +Africa. But in his case he doesn't exactly have the same dream and +he's working under the green ensign of the Pan-Islamic Arab Union." + +"And has Elmer Allen captive." + +"Yes, he has Elmer." El Hassan's tone of voice turned sharp. "Cliff, +go get Bey. Tell him we're forming a flying column and heading north." + +Cliff was gone. El Hassan turned back to the girl. "You know, Isobel," +he said softly, slowly, "in history there is no happy ending, ever. +There is no ending at all. It goes from one crisis to another, but +there is no ending." + + * * * * * + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Border, Breed Nor Birth, by Dallas McCord Reynolds + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BORDER, BREED NOR BIRTH *** + +***** This file should be named 30639.txt or 30639.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/6/3/30639/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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