The 92nd Tiger (21 page)

‘All right,’ said Hugo. He wished he could have sounded as cool and sophisticated about it as she did.

It was at this precise moment that they heard, muffled by the distance but horribly distinct, the boom of a gun.

INFIGHTING

“My God,’ said Tammy. ‘What was that?’

Trouble,’ said Hugo. He was putting on his singlet. That was from the Ruler’s Palace. It sounded like that big gun in the courtyard blasting off. I thought it was strictly for ornament. I must have been wrong.’

‘What’s happening? What does it mean?’ She, too, was scrambling back into her clothes.

‘That’s what we’ve got to find out.’

Whilst they were on the island the tide had come in and the boat, which they had beached, was now afloat in two feet of water. They tumbled aboard. Hugo pulled up the anchor and started the engine.

‘What are you aiming to do?’

‘First stop, the flats,’ said Hugo. ‘Find out what the form is, and take it from there.’

‘Do you think something really has started? They might just have fired that piece off for fun.’

‘Listen,’ said Hugo. He cut out the engine, and as the boat slid quietly forward through the water they could hear, muted by the distance but quite clear, the rattle of musketry.

‘Fires, too,’ said Hugo. From several places in the town columns of smoke were going up into the still evening air.

A sparkle of flashes showed from the shadows at the end of the dhow-quay.

‘I wonder what they’re shooting at?’ said Tammy.

‘Us,’ said Hugo, and heaved the boat round in a violent half circle.

‘Were they really?’

‘They certainly were.’

As he said it, something hit the stern of the boat with a rap and whined off out to sea.

‘Wow,’ said Tammy. ‘Do you think we ought to lie down or something?’

‘They’re not likely to hit us now,’ said Hugo. ‘It was an incredibly lucky shot at that.’ They were a quarter of a mile from the shore.

‘What next?’

Hugo was looking at the fuel gauge. He said, ‘If we had enough fuel, I’d have run you straight across to the coast of Iran and put you ashore; only we haven’t.’

‘Put
me ashore?’ said Tammy thoughtfully. ‘Just what were you planning to do yourself?’

‘I think I ought to get back and see what’s happening. After all, I am the Ruler’s military adviser. It looks to me as though he might be able to use some military advice right now.’

‘It certainly sounds like it.’

‘We’ll go back to the island and lie up on the other side, out of sight. If anyone’s bothering about us, they’ll assume that we’ve gone straight on. It’ll be dark in two hours. I ought to be able to find somewhere to land, up the coast, closer to the Palace.’

‘What then?’

‘It’s impossible to make any sort of plan until I find out what’s happening.’

‘And where am I whilst you’re finding out?’

‘Sitting on the island, twiddling your toes.’

‘That I most certainly am not. Do you know what happens on these sand banks after dark? Big crabs, big as soup plates, come creeping out of their holes. Thousands of them, clicking their claws. Anything they find there, they eat.
Anything.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I read it in a book.’

‘I think it’s nonsense.’

‘It may be nonsense, but I’m not aiming to find out.’

‘All right,’ said Hugo. ‘You can come with me. But you’ve got to do what you’re told.’

‘I’ve always been a submissive sort of girl,’ said Tammy.

It was nine o’clock by Hugo’s watch when they finally beached the boat on the shores of Umran. The moon, which was almost at full, was not due to rise for another hour and the night was blue-black with a million stars showing. Hugo had set his course by them, a skill he had learned in his youth in the desert. He was confident that their landfall was not far from the Palace.

The coastline at this point was a series of small creeks divided by ridges of outcrop. Each of these indentations deepened, as it ran inland, into a gully full of bushes and small twisted trees. It was clear to Hugo that all he had to do was to follow one of these gullies for a few hundred yards, when he must strike the coast road, either between Mohara and the Palace, or between the Palace and the Metbor workings. Which side he was on he would know for certain when he hit the road. As far as the Palace, it was a metalled two-lane highway. After the Palace it degenerated into a track.

He explained all this to Tammy in a whisper as they lugged the boat up on to the sand. She said, ‘What about me?’

‘You’ll be much safer here.’

‘I feel safer when I’m with you.’

‘Someone’s got to look after the boat. It’s got our stuff in it.’

‘I’m not worried about our stuff. I’m worried about me.’

Hugo considered reminding her that she had promised to do what he said. The thought of conducting a long argument in whispers decided him against it. He said weakly, ‘All right. But keep very quiet.’

The first twenty yards was easy. Then the trouble began. The ground underfoot started to get soft. At one point Hugo sunk in up to his thighs and thought, in a moment of panic, that he had struck a patch of quick-sand. Behind him. Tammy said, ‘Bear in mind I’m shorter than you. If this gets much worse, I shall disappear altogether.’

‘We’ll try the side.’

The bank was firmer, but covered with a mat of prickly bushes. Both of them had bare legs, and Hugo heard Tammy gasp once or twice. He said, ‘Wait here for a moment. I’m going to see what it’s like at the top.’

He forced his way straight up the side. The last few yards were nearly vertical, and he had to go on hands and knees, but the bushes were thinner. On top there was a sort of track. As he stood there, he sensed a lightening of the darkness ahead of him. The moon was coming up.

He heard an anxious whisper in the darkness below him, and said, ‘It’s all right. I’m still here. And I think I’ve found a path.’

‘Well thank the Lord.’

He stretched out a hand, and pulled her up. She said, ‘Just give a girl two minutes for urgent repairs. I’d like to get some of these thorns out.’

‘Not too long,’ said Hugo. ‘It’s getting lighter every moment.’

The path twisted and turned and was completely overgrown in places, but it
was
a path. Ten minutes of it brought them out into the open. The rising moon shed its cold light on to a stretch of metalled road. They were south of the Palace.

‘Thank God for civilisation,’ said Tammy.

Hugo looked at her. She was black to the knees with caked mud and her legs were scratched and bleeding. Her thin, sun frock was ripped in several places.

‘You don’t look much better yourself,’ she said.

‘We’re a pair,’ agreed Hugo. They set off down the road.

‘What do we do when we get to the Palace?’

‘If the Ruler’s in control, they’ll let us in. If the other side are there, we turn back and make for the town.’

The truck which came round the corner towards them was running without lights. They heard it in time to get into the ditch beside the road. It rocketed past them, and disappeared in the direction of Mohara.

‘Who was it?’ said Tammy. Them or us?’

‘I was too busy getting into the ditch to notice,’ said Hugo. ‘I’m pretty certain it wasn’t a police truck.’

‘I didn’t think so either,’ said Tammy. They walked on in silence for some time, each busy with their own thoughts.

There was a cluster of huts round the outside of the Palace walls, primitive affairs, walled and roofed with woven burasti and palm fibre. They were close to these when the second truck arrived. It came out of the battlemented entrance of the Palace, and they heard the heavy inner door clang shut behind it. This time there was no convenient ditch, so they stepped into the shadow of one of the huts. This truck, too, was travelling without lights, but it was moving more slowly. As it passed them they saw that it was packed with men standing at the back. They were carrying rifles, but no one could have mistaken them for soldiers or policemen. They were shouting and laughing, and as they went past one or two of them loosed off shots. They seemed to be aiming at a line of posts in the space between the huts and the Palace wall.

They stood, unmoving and silent, whilst the truck accelerated and drove off down the road. The noise of its progress diminished, and died away in the distance.

‘That looked pretty conclusive to me,’ said Tammy at last.

‘Yes,’ said Hugo.

The rebs have got hold of the Palace. I guess that little lot was off to whoop it up in the town. But they won’t have left the place unguarded.’ She added, ‘What do you think?’ because Hugo didn’t seem to be listening to her. And then, ‘Where are you going now?’

‘I want to look at those posts they were shooting at,’ said Hugo. ‘You’d better stay where you are. There may be people watching from the walls.’

He moved along behind the row of huts, keeping in the shadow. When he reached the last one, he was still ten yards from the nearest post, but the moonlight was bright enough for him to see. The sack-like object up against each of the posts was a man, lashed to it by cords round the body and legs with arms twisted behind it. They were all in the uniform of the Palace Guard, and the way they were hanging made it clear they were dead.

He moved slowly back the way he had come. Tammy said, ‘They were our men, weren’t they? They’d been executed.’

‘Yes,’ said Hugo. ‘We’d better get under cover whilst we think out what to do next.’

He tried the door of the nearest hut. It swung open. They went in cautiously. There was no movement inside, and it seemed to be empty. It took a few moments to adjust to the gloom of the interior. Then, by the moonlight filtering through the cracks in the walls, they began to take in some of the details. A cooking stove in the far corner, a cupboard, with a door hanging open as if it had been forced, a table still covered with the remains of a meal, one chair upright, and one over-turned.

A door at the back gave on to the lean-to which might have been sleeping quarters.

Hugo said, ‘I don’t think there’s anyone here, but I’d better make sure.’

The back-room was darker than the front. Hugo got out his cigarette lighter and clicked it on, holding it in front of him. There were two people in the room. A man was lying on the floor in the corner. His head had been smashed in. A young girl was lying on the bed. She was lying half on her face. Her hands had been tied behind her. Hugo heard Tammy come in, and clicked off the lighter. He said, ‘Let’s get out of here.’

When they were back in the front-room. Tammy said, ‘They’re both dead, aren’t they?’

‘Yes,’ said Hugo.

‘What are you planning to do about it?’

‘What I want to do,’ said Hugo, ‘is get into that Palace and kill someone.’

‘And just how are you going to do that? Knock down the front door with your thick head. Or fly over the walls, like Batman.’ Hugo looked at her in surprise. She was shaking with fury, or shock; or a mixture of both. ‘And when you get there, what are you planning to do, you gorgeous great brute. Savage them with your claws, or tear out their throats with your teeth?’

‘For God’s sake,’ said Hugo, ‘keep your voice down.’

‘Let’s have a plan. Let’s have a wonderful, all-star, technicolour plan for getting us out of this goddamned mess you’ve got us into.’

The light was brighter than the moon. It was penetrating every crack in the flimsy wall. A voice outside shouted something. It sounded like English. They caught the words, ‘Come on out.’ Then there was a burst of automatic fire. The bullets tore a hole out of the wall as they threw themselves flat on the floor.

‘Next time, it will be lower down,’ said the voice. Hugo crawled to the door and pushed it open. Twenty yards away a parked truck was pointing towards them, with its headlights on. He climbed slowly to his feet.

‘Come on, come on,’ said the voice impatiently.

Hugo walked forward. Behind the lights was a little group of men. He had already recognised the voice. It was Dr. Kassim, but a very different figure from the dapper civilian he had last seen in Moharram’s store. The doctor was in Arab soldier’s uniform. A pistol hung from either side of his belt and he had a machine pistol slung across his shoulders.

He said something in Arabic, and two men ran into the hut, with their rifles at the ready. They came out, shaking their heads, and laughing.

Dr. Kassim jerked his head towards the Palace. Two men grabbed Hugo by an arm each. Several of them took hold of Tammy. There seemed to be competition for that job. Dr. Kassim followed. Hugo noticed that he was limping badly. They were hustled through the gateway, into the courtyard, and backed up against the wall. Half a dozen guns were pointing at them.

Dr. Kassim said, ‘I warned you once. Now you will be shot. I think we will shoot the girl first, so you can watch, eh?’

Hugo said nothing.

‘My men are not good shots. Perhaps they will shoot her first in the stomach. Then she will roll around a bit. Maybe they’ll find it difficult to hit her. That will be amusing for you to watch. It might take half an hour before they finish her off.’

It was the moment, thought Hugo. The moment for a gesture. A scornful retort. Do what you like, you swine. You won’t make either of us crawl to you. But his mouth was dry. He had no words to say. He knew that if he could save their lives by crawling, he would crawl the length of the compound. Dr. Kassim was watching him closely, a very slight smile on his lips.

One of the men said something to him. He turned his head to listen. When he turned it back he was looking at Tammy.

He said, ‘This girl is American? A friend of Mr. Ringbolt’s?’

‘Yes.’

‘It is possible she might be more useful to us alive.’ Then he said, in Arabic, ‘Take them below. We will see in the morning.’

As Hugo grasped the meaning of the words, his heart seemed to turn right over. The morning? The morning was seven or eight hours away. He had been presented with seven or eight hours of life. It was the finest present he had ever been given.