The Seventh Scroll - Smith Wilbur - Страница 96
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his monks. He selected his best men personally. None of them was
squeamish.
Two hours before dawn he paraded them within the security of the Pegasus
compound, under the glare of the floodlights, and briefed them
carefully. At the end of the briefing he made each man step from the
ranks in turn and recite his orders to ensure there was no
misunderstanding.
Then he inspected their arms and equipment meticulously.
Tuma Nogo was painfully conscious of his own culpability in allowing the
Englishman and the Egyptian woman to escape, and he could sense the
danger in Herr von Schiller's attitude towards him. He had few illusions
about the consequences if he were to fail again. In the short time since
he had made the acquaintance of Gotthold von Schiller, Nogo had come to
fear him as he had never feared God or the Devil in the days of his
priesthood. He realized that this raid was an opportunity to reinstate
himself with the formidable little German.
The jet Ranger was standing by, the pilot at the controls, the engines
running and the rotors turning lazily, but it could not carry such a
large number of fully equipped men. It would need four round trips to
ferry them all down to the asse4bly point in the gorge. Nogo flew with
the first flight, and took Nahoot Guddabi with him. The helicopter
dropped them three miles from the monastery, in a clearing on the banks
of the Dandera river, the same drop area as they had used for the raid
on Quenton-Harper's camp.
The drop area was just far enough from the monastery for the engine
noise of the jet Ranger not to alarm the monks. Even if they did hear
it, Nogo was banking on the probability that they were by this time
thoroughly conditioned to the frequent sorties of the machine, and would
not associate it with any threat to themselves.
The men waited in the darkness, warned to silence and not even allowed
by Nogo to smoke, while the jet Ranger ferried in the remaining
troopers. When the last flight came in Nogo ordered his detachment to
fall in, and led them in single file down the path beside the river.
They were all trained bush fighters in top physical condition, and they
moved swiftly and purposefully through the night.
Only Nahoot was a soft urbanite, and within half a mile he was wheezing
and whining for a chance to rest. Nogo smiled vindictively to himself as
he listened to Nahoot's pathetic whispered pleas for mercy as he was
prodded along by the men behind him.
Nogo had timed his arrival at the monastery to coincide with the hour of
matins and lauds, the break of day. He led his contingent down the cliff
staircase at a trot.
Their weapons were at high port, all the equipment was carefully muted
so as not to clatter or creak, and their rubber-soled paratrooper boots
made little noise on the stone paving as they hurried along the deserted
cloisters to the entrance of the underground cathedral.
From the interior echoed the monotonous chanting and drumming of the
ceremony, punctuated at intervals by the higher treble descant of the
abbot leading the service.
Colonel Nogo paused outside the doors, and his men drew LA up in double
ranks behind him. There was no need for orders for his briefing had
covered every aspect of the raid.
He looked the men over for a moment, then nodded at his lieutenant.
The outer chamber of the church was empty, as the monks were gathered in
the middle chamber, the qiddist.
Nogo crossed the outer nave swiftly, with his detachment moving up close
behind him. Then he ran up the steps to the wooden doors of the qiddist,
which stood open. As he entered, his men fanned out in two files behind
him and swiftly took up their positions along the side walls of the
qiddist, their assault rifles cocked and locked, and with bayonets
fixed, ing cover the kneeling congregation.
and swiftly that it was some it was done so silently minutes before the
monks gradually became aware of this alien presence in their holy place.
The chanting and drumming died away, and the dark faces turned
apprehensively towards the ranks of armed men. Only Jah Hora, the and
happen ancient abbot, was unaware of anything untow ing. Completely
absorbed in his devotions, he continued kneeling before re the doors of
the maqdas, the Holy of Holies, his quavering voice the lonely cry of a
lost soul.
In the silence Co nel Nogo marched down the centre of the nave kicking
the kneeling monks out of his way.
When he came up behind Jah Hora he seized him by his skinny black
shoulder and threw him roughly to the ground. The tinsel crown flew from
his silvered pate and rolled across the slabs with a brassy clatter.
Nogo, left him sprawling and turned to face the rows Of monks in their
white shammw, addressing them imperioUsly in Amharic.
"I am here to search this church and the or-her buildings of this
monastery, on suspicion that there are dissident other bandits harboured
here." He paused and rebels and surveyed the cowering holy men haughtily
and threateningly. "I must warn you that any attempt to prevent my men
performing their duties will be regarded as an act of banditry and
provocation. It will be met with force."
JaIi Hora crawled to his knees and then, using one of the embroidered
hangings for support, Slowly hoisted himself to his feet. Still clinging
to the tapestry of the Virgin and child, he gathered himself with an
effort.
"These are hallowed precincts," he cried, in a surprisingly clear and
strong voice. "We are dedicated to the service and worship of almighty
God, the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost."
"silence? Nogo bellowed at him. He unbuckled the flap of the webbing
holster on his hip and placed his hand threateningly on the grip of the
Tokarev pistol it contained.
at. "We are holy men in a
)a1i Hora ignored the thre place of God. There are no shufta here. There
are no lawthe most high, I breakers amongst US. In the name of God leave
us to our prayers and our call upon you to be gone) to worship, and not
to desecrate Nogo drew the pistol and in the same movement swung the
black steel barrel into the abbot's face with a outh burst open vicious
back-handed blow. jah Hora's like the rind of a ripe pomegranate; the
red juice burst from front of his tattered his crushed lips and flooded
down the velvet vestments. A low moan of horror went up from the ranks
of squatting monks.
Still clinging to the tapestry, Jah Hora kept his feet, but he was
swaying and teetering wildly. He opened his shattered mouth to speak
again, but the only sound that came from it was a high-pitched cawing,
like that of a dying crow, and the blood splattered in bright droplets
from his lips.
Nogo laughed and kicked his legs from under him. Jah Hora. collapsed
like a heap of dirty laundry and lay on the paving, groaning in his own
blood and Spittle.
"Where is your God now, you old baboon? Bleat to him as loud as you
will, and he will never answer you,'
Nogo, chuckled.
With the pistol he gestured to his lieutenant across the church. He left
six of his men guarding the monks, four at the doorway and one at each
side wall. The others bunched up and followed him to the entrance to the
maqdas.
The doors were locked. Nogo rattled the ancient padlock impatiently.
"Open this immediately, you old crow!" he shouted at ali Hora who still
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