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Endean seemed to sag at the shoulders, as if the knowledge of the certain loss of his personal fortune, promised by Sir James Manson when Bobi was installed, had suddenly been compounded by the realization that Sha
Semmler appeared in the doorway of the study, behind Endean, and Langarotti slipped quietly through the dining-room door from the corridor. Both held Schmeissers, catch off, very steady, pointing at Endean.
Sha
The single unpunctured tire from the two Zangaran trucks in the courtyard had been fitted to the vehicle that had brought Endean into the country. The canvas behind the cab had been taken away, and three African soldiers crouched in the back with submachine carbines. Another twenty, fully uniformed and equipped, were being marshaled into a line outside the palace.
In the hallway, close to the shattered door, they met a middle-aged African in civilian clothes. Sha
“Everything okay, Doctor?”
“Yes, so far. I have arranged with my people to send a hundred volunteer workers to clean up. Also another fifty will be here this afternoon for fitting out and equipping. Seven of the Zangaran men on the list of notables have been contacted at their homes and have agreed to serve. They will meet this evening.”
“Good. Perhaps you had better take time off to draft the first bulletin from the new government. It should be broadcast as soon as possible. Ask Mr. Semmler to try to get the radio working. If it can’t be done, we’ll use the ship.”
“I have just spoken to Mr. Semmler,” said the African. “He has been in touch with the Toscana by walkie-talkie. Captain Waldenberg reports there is another ship out there trying to raise Clarence port authorities with a request for permission to enter port. No one is replying, but Captain Waldenberg can hear her on the radio.”
“Any identification?” asked Sha
“Mr. Semmler says she identifies herself as the Russian ship Komarov, a freighter.”
“Tell Mr. Semmler to man the port radio before going to work on the palace transmitter. Tell him to make to Komarov: ‘Permission refused. Permanently.’ Thank you, Doctor.”
They parted, and Sha
“Who was that?” asked Endean sourly as the truck sped along the peninsula, past the shantytown of the immigrant workers, where all seemed to be bustle and activity. With amazement Endean noticed that each crossroads had an armed soldier with a submachine carbine standing on point duty.
“The man in the hallway?” asked Sha
“Yes.”
“That was Doctor Okoye.”
“A witch doctor, I suppose.”
“Actually he’s an Oxford Ph.D.”
“Friend of yours?”
“Yes.”
There was no more conversation until-they were on the highway toward the north.
“All right,” said Endean at last, “I know what you’ve done. You’ve ruined one of the biggest and richest coups that has ever been attempted. You don’t know that, of course. You’re too bloody thick. What I’d like to know is, why? In God’s name, why?”
Sha
“You made two mistakes, Endean,” he said carefully. Endean started at the sound of his real name.
“You assumed that because I’m a mercenary, I’m automatically stupid. It never seemed to occur to you that we are both mercenaries, along with Sir James Manson and most of the people who have power in this world. The second mistake was that you assumed all black people were the same, because to you they look the same.”
“I don’t follow you.”
"You did a lot of research on Zangaro; you even found out about the tens of thousands of immigrant workers who virtually keep this place ru
Clarence—untrained, of course, but looking efficient enough to keep law and order. They’ll be the real power in this country from now on. There was a coup d’etat last night, all right, but it wasn’t conducted for or on behalf of Colonel Bobi."
“For whom, then?”
“For the general.”
“Which general?”
Sha
Endean faced him, mouth open in horror. “Not him. He was defeated, exiled.”
“For the moment, yes. Not necessarily forever. Those immigrant workers are his people. They call them the Jews of Africa. There are one and a half million of them scattered over this continent. In many areas they do most of the work and have most of the brains. Here in Zangaro they live in the shantytown behind Clarence.”
“That stupid great idealistic bastard—”
“Careful,” warned Sha
“Why?”
Sha
Endean turned and looked at the three impassive faces above the three Schmeisser barrels.
“They don’t speak English all that well, do they?”
“The one in the middle,” said Sha
Endean was silent for a few more miles. “What happens now?” he asked.
“The Committee of National Reconciliation takes over,” said Sha
“You expect to get away with that?”
“You expected to impose that slobbering ape Bobi and get away with it. At least the new government will be moderately fair. That mineral deposit, or whatever it was, that you were after—I don’t know where or what it is, but I can deduce that there has to be something here to interest Sir James Manson. No doubt the new government will find it, eventually. And no doubt it will be exploited. But if you want it, you will have to pay for it. A fair price, a market price. Tell Sir James that when you get back home.”
Around the corner they came within view of the border post. News travels fast in Africa, even without telephone, and the Vindu soldiers on the border post were gone.
Sha
Endean climbed down. He looked back at Sha
Sha