Assignment Madeleine (13 page)

The light grew stronger in the east. The rocky scarps and defiles
opening on either side of the road grew sharper in outline. Durell spread a
military map on his knees over the carbine he held and studied it. He spoke to
Talek, the Arab driver.

‘We should be about ten kilometers from the village of
Baroumi,” he said.

“Yes, sir."

“There’s a trace here oil to the west that seems to cut through
to the
coastbound
road. Can we use it?”

“It is very rough, sir. Very wild country.”

“Any guerrillas in it?”

“No rebels have been reported, sir.”

“Suppose we take it and hole up for a rest, just before we
reach the
douar
.
It should he scouted before we go through any village.”

“Yes, sir. But we ought to cover as much ground as we can
while it’s still cool.”

“We’ll do that,” Durell agreed.

The light grew stronger. Talek turned the truck into a
narrow wadi that had a fairly flat floor to it and faint tracks
made by other vehicles in the past. The rising sun was behind them now. Jane
felt suddenly sleepy. The jolting of the truck and the steady thrum of the engine
made the restless night just past seem a nightmare in retrospect. She wanted to
look back into the truck body again, but somehow she was afraid that if she
did, the first thing she would meet would be the prisoner’s knowing eyes.
She leaned her head back and tried to sleep.

When she awoke, the truck had stopped. She was alone in the
cab of the truck, and seeing this, panic touched her. There was no one around.
It was broad daylight now, almost nine o’clock, and the sun’s heat struck
viciously at her, glancing oft the walls of the rocky cul-de-sac where they had
halted. Red and yellow sandstone cliffs, barren of even the slightest trace of
green, towered on three sides. She felt hot and sticky with perspiration.

“Chet?” she called quickly.

“Here, honey.”

She turned and saw him walking across the rocky floor of
the ravine. He carried his carbine easily, as if he were familiar with it, and
somehow he looked different. Perversely, she was annoyed at the prompt way he
popped up, as if he had been hovering solicitously over her. Jane got down out
of the cab and shook out her tangled blond hair and lifted her arms over her
head to stretch. She saw Charley L’Heureux watching her. His eyes were boldly
appraising her breasts. She dropped her arms and turned away with a flush
of angry embarrassment, but not before she caught his quick, knowing grin.

“Why have we stopped, Chet?”

“It's just for a rest. I’ve been detailed to scout ahead. The
main road to Baroumi is just ahead, and Durell wants me to walk along it for a
way to see if there are any signs of the rebels in the neighborhood.”

She looked at him. "You enjoy this, don’t you? Playing soldier
again, I mean.”

“Jane, this is dangerous territory.”

“Who'd be hanging around this desolate place? It’s crazy. We
ought to keep right on going.”

“Durell knows what he’s doing,” Chet said. “Are you all
right, honey?”

“Of course I'm all right. I’m fine. I’m hot and sticky
and hungry and thirsty and I’ve had no sleep for ages. I’m just dandy.”

“I’ll be back in half an hour,” he said.

“Don’t get sunstroke,” she called caustically.

He turned away. Durell and Talek were standing on one of the
low cliff edges above her and to the east. Durell was looking at something
through field glasses, and Talek stood beside him with a tommy gun in his
hands. Nothing stirred except the shimmering heat waves that glanced off the
glitter of sand and rock. Now that she had mentioned it, she did feel very
thirsty. There were some canteens of water in the back end of the truck, and
she walked around to it and drank heavily.

Charley L’Heureux stood beside her. His hands looked strange
in the cults that bound him. “Take it easy, baby. Just wet your lips. That’s
the way to do it out here.”

“There’s plenty of water,” she said.

“Plenty for today.”

“By tonight we’ll all be in Algiers,” Jane said.

“I don’t think so.”

She stared at him. “No?”

“(Do you trust this Durell?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” she said. She felt a stir of alarm. She wished
he wouldn’t look at her so arrogantly. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“He thinks he’s smart, cutting south like this. We’re in the
heart of rebel country.”

“Are you trying to frighten me?”

“Just telling you, is all,”

“Those people won’t bother us. I’m American.”

“You re from Texas, huh? I can always tell a Texas woman.”

"I'm from Houston,” she said.

“That’s a wonderful town,” L'Heureux said. “I spent a lot of
time there. Long ago, before they shipped us out in the war. I always wanted to
go back. Lots of action in Houston. Good food, good hotels, plenty of wonderful
women. But none of them as pretty as you, Jane.”

She looked at his handcuffed wrists. “What did you do? Did
you really kill that man named Boston?”

“It was in self-defense,” he said easily.

“You don’t seem worried about going back for a trial.”

“There won’t be any trial,” L’Heureux said quietly.

His teeth were white and even when he smiled. She was struck
again by the strange contrast between his sun-bleached hair that was almost
white, cropped short like a college boy s, and his thick shaggy black brows,
There was a smell clinging to his khaki shirt and trousers—the smell of prison,
and more. The smell of sweat and manliness. Chet had never smelled like that.
She shivered. “You
are
trying to
frighten me, aren’t you?”

Nothing’s going to happen to you, Jane,” he said. “I’ll see
to that. What do you say we take a walk and stretch our legs?’

Jane looked up the sandstone cliff to where Durell and Talek
made dark, distant silhouettes against the brazen sky. Will he let you wander
around loose?”

L’Heureux held up his handcuffed wrists. “I can’t go far
like this, can I? And I wouldn’t want to. Not in this country. He knows I've
got to stick close to the truck.”

Jane looked across the little clearing to where Madeleine,
the French girl, was combing her hair and staring bluntly at them. The
redheaded girl looked sullen and angry. “What about her? I understand she’s
your girl. Why is she here?"

“She came along for the ride. Come on, walk with me.”

“Won’t she be jealous?”

He grinned. “Now why should you say that?” His eyes were brazen
with feigned innocence. “What would she have to be jealous about? My hands are
tied, ain’t they? She met his eyes. She flushed. He was laughing at her because
she had given something away without meaning to, and he knew it and was way
ahead of her. “Come on,” he said again. “A little walk up the wadi won break
any eggs.

She began to walk with him without thinking about it. “Now
you’ve reminded me,” she said lightly, “I’m so darned hungry. Doesn’t this
caravan serve any breakfast?”

“Cold chicken. Cold coffee. Coming up in twenty minutes,
when your husband comes back. He’s been appointed cook, I reckon.” L'Heureux
laughed softly. Incidentally, what’s he always so sore about? Like he got a bee
in his pants. You quarreled with him, or something?’

“A little,” she admitted.

“Poor jerk. And I was beginning to envy him. Having you and
Texas and all that, while I’m being carted away to face a firing squad or
the guillotine or electric chair, if they get me that far.”

“You don’t seem such a terribly dangerous man to me.”

‘°You’re lying, Jane. You’re afraid of me.”

She bit her lip. “I can’t seem to keep any secrets from you,
can I?”

“Before this trip is over, you won’t have any left at all, I
promise you.”

“Are you sure that’s a promise? It sounds threatening.”

He grinned lightly. “Make what you want of it, honey.”

They came to a bend in the wadi and walked around a wall of
sandstone, and the truck was cut off from sight behind them. Jane wanted to
look back to see if Madeleine was following, or if Chet had returned, but she didn’t.
L’Heureux was holding his handcuffed wrists out before him.

“I wish I wasn’t handicapped like this, Jane. It’s been a long
time since I went strolling with a girl like you.”

“You assume too much,” Jane said.

“Do I? I know you. I know your kind. Let's sit down in the
shade a minute. Tell me all about Texas and your daddy’s oil wells. He’s got
oil wells, hasn’t he?”

"Yes."

“So you’re very rich.”

“Yes,” she said simply.

“And you’re bored with that creep of a husband, huh?”

She said quickly, “Chet isn’t like that.” She paused as L’Heureux
grinned at her. “All right, yes, I’m bored.”

“Maybe you’ve been seeing the country with the wrong party.
Africa is pretty exciting. And profitable. I’m an old hand at it, you
know. I could show you things that would make you forget ever to be bored
again.”

“I suppose you could,” she murmured.

“But not with my hands tied.”

She looked at him. “You’re very obvious, Charley. If you
think you can talk me into helping you get loose, you’re presumptuous,
conceited, and stupid.”

“Oh, I'm conceited all right.” His laughter made thick bubbles
in his throat. “But not stupid, baby. What do you think would happen if I got
my hands loose, huh?”

“It won’t happen. Not with my help.”

“You’re afraid to think about that, right?”

“I think we'd better go back now,” Jane said.

“Look at me,” he said sharply.

She looked away. She couldn’t see the truck. She .thought
she saw someone moving on the lip of rock over-hanging the wadi back there, but
she couldn’t be sure. It was probably Durell, keeping an eye on his prisoner.

“Look,” L’Heureux said, standing behind her.

Then she felt his hands on her body.

The shock of knowing that his hands, incredibly, were free
was paralyzing. His fingers dug brutally into the soft flesh of her
waist. She wanted to cry out. His grip was too painful to stand. But she didn't
cry out. She sucked in her breath and was silent. She felt herself turned
forcibly around to face him. She felt herself pulled hard against his massive,
sweaty body.

“Don't scream, Jane,” he whispered.

“How did you—how did you do it?” she gasped.

“I’ve been free for half an hour. Pretty good, huh? I just
kept the shackles on to make it look good.”