The Dark of the Sun - Smith Wilbur - Страница 6

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"I see now that I was mistaken. This is indeed signed by

Monsieur le President. It is my duty to afford you the most urgent

priority." Bruce murmured his thanks and the major beamed at him. "I

will give you men to help you."

"You are too kind. It would disrupt your routine. I have my own men."

Excellent," agreed the major and waved a podgy hand around the

warehouse. "Take what you need." Again Bruce glanced at his wristwatch.

It was still twenty minutes before the curfew ended at 06.00 hours.

Until then he must fret away the time watching Wally Hendry finishing

his breakfast. This was a spectacle without much appeal, for Hendry was

a methodical but untidy eater.

"Why don't you keep your mouth closed?" snapped Bruce irritably, unable

to stand it any longer.

"Do I ask you your business?" Hendry looked up from his plate.

His jowls were covered with a ginger stubble of beard, and his eyes were

inflamed and puffy from the previous evening's debauchery. Bruce looked

away from him and checked his watch again.

The suicidal temptation to ignore the curfew and set off immediately for

the railway station was very strong. It required an effort to resist it.

The least he could expect if he followed that course was an arrest by

one of the patrols and a delay of twelve hours while he cleared himself,

the worst thing would be a shooting incident.

He poured himself another cup of coffee and sipped it slowly.

Impatience has always been one of my weaknesses, he reflected; nearly

every mistake I have ever made stems from that cause. But I have

improved a little over the years. - at twenty I wanted to live my whole

life in a week. Now I'll settle for a year.

He finished his coffee and checked the time again. Five minutes

before six, he could risk it now. It would take almost that long to get

out to the truck.

"If you are ready, gentlemen." He pushed back his chair and picked up

his pack, slung it over his shoulder and led the way out.

Ruffy was waiting for them, sitting on a pile of stones in one of the

corrugated iron goods sheds. His men squatted round a dozen small fires

on the concrete floor cooking breakfast.

"Where's the train?"

"That's a good question, boss," Ruffy congratulated him, and Bruce

groaned.

"It should have been here long ago," Bruce protested, and Ruffy

shrugged.

"Should have been is a lot different from is."

"Goddamnit! We've still got to load up. We'll be lucky if we get away

before noon," snapped Bruce. "I'll go up to the station master." I

"You'd better take him a present, boss. We've still got a case left."

"No, hell!"

Bruce growled. "Come with me, Mike." With Mike beside him they crossed

the tracks to the main platform and clambered up on to it. At the far

end a group of railway officials stood chatting and Bruce fell upon them

furiously.

Two hours later Bruce stood beside the coloured engine driver on the

footplate and they puffed slowly down towards the goods yard.

The driver was a roly-poly little man with a skin too dark for mere

sunburn and a set of teeth with bright red plastic gums.

"Monsieur, you do not wish to proceed to Port Reprieve?" he asked

anxiously.

"Yes."

"There is no way of telling the condition of the permanent way. No

traffic has used it these last four months."

"I know. You'll have to proceed with caution."

"There is a United Nations barrier across the lines near the old

aerodrome, protested the man.

"We have a pass." Bruce smiled to soothe him; his bad temper was abating

now that he had his transport. "Stop next to the first shed."

With a hiss of steam brakes the train pulled up beside the concrete

platform and Bruce jumped down.

"All right, Ruffy," he shouted. "Let's get cracking." Bruce had placed

the three steel-sided open trucks in the van, for they were the easiest

to defend. From behind the breast-high sides the Bren guns could sweep

ahead and on both flanks. Then followed the two passenger coaches, to be

used as store rooms and officer's quarters; also for accommodation of

the refugees on the return journey.

A Finally, the locomotive in the rear, where it would be least

vulnerable and would not spew smoke and soot back over the train.

The stores were loaded into four of the compartments, the windows

shuttered and the doors locked. Then Bruce set about laying out his

defences. In a low circle of sandbags on the roof of the leading coach

he sited one of the Brens and made his own post. From here he could look

down over the open trucks, back at the locomotive, and also command an

excellent view of the surrounding country.

The other Brens he placed in the leading truck and put Hendry in command

there. He had obtained from the major at Ordinance three of the new

walkie-talkie sets; one he gave to the engine driver, another to Hendry

up front, and the third he retained in his emplacement; and his system

of communication was satisfactory.

It was almost twelve o'clock before these preparations were complete and

Bruce turned to Ruffy who sat on the sandbags beside him.

"All set?"

"All set, boss."

"How many missing?" Bruce had learned from experience never to expect

his entire command to be in any one place at any one time.

"Eight, boss."

"That's three more than yesterday; leaves us only fifty-two men. Do you

think they've taken off into the bush also?" Five of his men had

deserted with their weapons on the day of the ceasefire.

Obviously they had gone out into the bush to join one of the bands of

shufta that were already playing havoc along the main roads: ambushing

all unprotected traffic, beating up lucky travellers and murdering those

less fortunate, raping when they had the opportunity, and generally

enjoying themselves.

"No, boss. I don't think so, those three are good boys.

They'll be down in the cite indigne having themselves some fun; guess

they just forgot the time." Ruffy shook his head. "Take us about half an

hour to find them; all we do is go down and visit all the knock-shops.

You want to try?"

"No, we haven't time to mess around if we are going to make Msapa

junction before dark. We'll pick them up again when we get back." Was

there ever an army since the Boer War that treated desertion so lightly,

Bruce wondered.

He turned to the radio set beside him and depressed the transmit button.

"Driver."

"Oui, monsieur."

"Proceed - very slowly until we approach the United Nations barrier.

Stop well this side of it."

"Oui, monsieur." They rolled out of the goods yard, clicking over the

points; leaving the industrial quarter on their right with the

Katangese guard posts on the Avenue du Cmieti&e intersection; out

through the suburbs until ahead of them Bruce saw the U.N. positions and

he felt the first stirring of anxiety. The pass he carried in the breast

pocket of his jacket was signed by General Rhee Singh, but before in

this war the orders of an Indian general had not been passed by a

Sudanese captain to an Irish sergeant. The reception that awaited them

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