The Dark of the Sun - Smith Wilbur - Страница 34

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Moses picked one up and held it between thumb and forefinger.

"Pretty," he murmured. "Pretty, so pretty." He swept the industrial

stones to one side and laid the gem in the centre of the blotter. Then

one by one he took the others from the cigar box, fondling each and

laying it on the blotter, counting them, smiling, once chuckling softly,

touching them, arranging them in patterns.

"Pretty," he kept whispering. "Bon - forty-one, forty-two.

Pretty! My darlings! Forty-three." Then suddenly he scooped them up and

poured them into one of the canvas bags, tightened the drawstring,

dropped it into his breast pocket above the medals and

buttoned the flap.

He laid his black, bejewelled hands on the desk in front of him and

looked up at Andre.

His eyes were smoky yellow with black centres behind his spectacles.

They had an opaque, dreamlike quality.

"Take off his clothes," he said in a voice that was as expressionless

as the eyes.

They stripped Andre with rough dispatch and General Moses looked at his

body.

"So white," he murmured. "Why so white?" Suddenly his jaws began chewing

nervously and there was a faint shine of sweat on his forehead.

He came round from behind the desk, a small man yet with an intensity

about him that doubled his size.

"White like the maggots that feed in the living body of the elephant."

He brought his face close to Andre's- "You should be fatter, my maggot,

having fed so long and so wellyou should be much fatter." He touched

Andre's body, running his hands down his flanks in a caress.

" he said, and

"But now it is too late, little white maggot. Andre cringed from his

touch and from his voice. "For the elephant has shaken you from the

wound, shaken you out on to the ground, shaken you out beneath his feet

- and will you pop when he crushes you?" His voice was still soft though

the sweat oozed in oily lines down his cheeks and the dreaminess of his

eyes had been replaced by a burning black brightness.

"We shall see," he said and drew back. "We shall see, My maggot," he

repeated, and brought his knee up into Andws crotch with a force that

jerked his whole frame and flung his shoulders back.

The agony flared through Andre's lower body, fierce as the touch of

heated steel. It clamped in on his stomach, contracting it in a spasm

like childbirth, it rippled up across the muscles of his chest into his

head and burst beneath the roof of his skull in a whiteness that blinded

him.

"Hold him," commanded General Moses, his voice suddenly shrill.

The two guards took Andre by the elbows and forced him to his knees, so

that his genitals and lower belly were easily accessible to the

general's boots. They had done this often.

"For the times you gaoled me!" And General Moses swung his booted foot

into Andre's body. The pain blended with the other pain, and it was too

strong for Andre to scream.

"This, for the insults," and Andre could feel his testicles crush

beneath it. Still it was too strong - he could not use his voice.

"This, for the times I have grovelled." The pain had passed its zenith,

this time he could scream with it. He opened his mouth and filled his

empty lungs.

"This, for the times I have hungered." Now he must scream. Now he must -

the pain, oh, sweet Christ, I must, please let me scream.

"This, for your white man's justice." Why can't I, please let me. Oh,

no! No - please. Oh, God, oh, please.

"This, for your prisons and your Kiboko!" The kicks so fast now, like

the beat of an insane drummer, like rain on a tin roof In his stomach he

felt something tear.

"And this, and this, and this." The face before him filled the whole

field of his vision.

The voice and the sound of the boot into him filled his ears.

"This, and this, and this." The voice high-pitched and in him the sudden

warm flood of internal bleeding.

The pain was fading now as his body closed it out in defence, and he had

not screamed. The leap of elation as he knew it. This last thing I can

do well, I can die now WITHOUT SCREAMING. He tried to stand up, but they

held him down and his legs were not his own, they were on the other side

of the great numb warmth of his belly. He lifted his head and looked at

the man who was killing him.

"This for the white filth that bore you, and this, and this-" The blows

were not a part of reality, he could feel the shock of them as though he

stood close to a man who was cutting down a tree with an axe.

And Andre smiled.

He was still smiling when they let him fall forward to the floor.

"I think he is dead," said one of the guards. General Moses turned away

and walked back to his seat at the desk.

He was shaking as though he had run a long way, and his breathing

was deep and fast. The jacket of his uniform was soaked with sweat.

He sank into the chair and his body seemed to crumple; slowly the

brightness faded from his eyes until once more they were filmed over,

opaque and dreamy. The two guards squatted down quickly on each side of

Andre's body; they knew it would be a long wait.

Through the open window there came an occasional shout of drunken

laughter, and the red flicker and leap of flames.

Bruce stood in the centre of the tracks and searched the floor of the

forest critically. At last he could make out the muzzle of the

Bren protruding a few inches from the patch of elephant grass. Despite

the fact that he knew exactly where to look for it, it had taken him a

full two minutes to find it.

"That'll do, Ruffy," he decided. "We can't get it much better than

that."

"I reckon not, boss." Bruce raised his voice. "Can you hear me?" There

were muffled affinnatives from the bush on each side, and Bruce

continued.

"If they come You must let them reach this spot before you open fire. I

will mark it for you." He went to a small shrub beside the line, broke

off a branch and dropped it on the tracks.

"Can you see that?" Again the affirmatives from the men in ambush.

"You will be relieved before darkness - until then stay where you

are." The train was hidden beyond a bend in the line, half a mile ahead,

and Bruce walked back with Ruffy.

The engine driver was waiting for them, talking with Wally Hendry beside

the rear truck.

"Any luck?" Bruce asked him.

regret, mon capitaine, that she is irreparably damaged.

The boiler is punctured in two places and there is considerable

disruption of the copper tubing."

"Thank you," Bruce nodded. He was neither surprised nor disappointed. It

was precisely what his own

judgement had told him after a brief examination of the locomotive.

"Where is Madame Cartier?" he asked Wally.

"Madame is preparing the luncheon, monsir," Wally told him with heavy

sarcasm. "Why do you ask, Bucko? Are you feeling randy again so

soon, hey? You feel like a slice of veal for lunch, is that it?" Bruce

snuffed out the quick flare of his temper and walked past him. He found

Shermaine with four gendarmes in the cab of the locomotive. They had

scraped the coals from the furnace into a glowing heap on the steel

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