Cry Wolf

gri

"And yours seems to be Scottish she's wearing a sporran, by God."

"Jake, we've got to make a decision. Do we go or don't we?"

"Action first, decisions later. Let's engage the targets."

"Right," Gareth agreed, realizing the futility of discussion at this

moment. "Driver advance."

"Gu

"Shoot!" cried Gareth, and the conversation languished.

It was half an hour before it was resumed, with the two of them in

shirt sleeves, braces dangling and black ties discarded, poring over a

large-scale map of the East African coast that Madame Cecile had

produced.

"There's a thousand miles of unguarded coast line." Gareth traced the

great horn of Africa in the light of the Petromax lamp and then ran his

finger inland. "And this is marked as semi-desert all the way to the

border. We aren't likely to run into a crowd."

"It's a hell of a way to make a living, "said Jake.

"Are we going then?" Gareth looked up.

"You know we are."

"Yes," Gareth laughed. "I know we are.

Fifteen thousand sovereigns say we have to." ij Mikhael received their

decision with a curt nod and then asked, "Have you pla

will accomplish this task? Perhaps I can be of assistance, I know the

coast well and most of the routes to the interior." He gestured for

one of his advisers to spread a map upon the stateroom table. Jake ran

his finger across it, as he spoke.

"We thought to hire a shallowdraughted vessel here in Dares

Salaam, and make a landing somewhere in this area.

Then to load the cases on the cars, and, carrying our own fuel,

run directly inland to some prearranged rendezvous with your people."

"Yes," agreed the Prince. "The basic idea is right. But I should

avoid British territory. They maintain a very intensive patrol system

to discourage the export of slaves from their territory to the East.

No, keep clear of British Somaliland. The French territory is more

suitable." They plunged into the pla

and Gareth realizing swiftly how lightly they had discounted the

difficulties that faced them, and how valuable was the Prince's

advice.

"Your landing will be one of the critical stages. There is a tidal

fall of almost twenty feet on this coast and an unfavorable shelving of

the bottom. However, at this point about forty miles north of Jibuti

there is an ancient harbour called Month. It's not marked on the

chart. It was one of the centres of the slave trade before its

abolition, like Zanzibar and Mozambique Island. It was stormed and

sacked by a British force in 1842. The port is without fresh water and

since then it has been deserted. Yet it has a deep-water cha

good approach to the shore. This would be a suitable place to land the

vehicles an awkward task without good wharfage and overhead cranes."

Gareth was scribbling notes on a sheet of Union Castle notepaper,

while

Jake leaned attentively over the chart.

"What about patrols in this area?" he asked, and the Prince

shrugged.

"There is a battalion of the Ugion ttrang&e at Jibuti and they send an

occasional camel patrol through this area.

The odds are much against an encounter."

"Those are the kind of odds I like," muttered Gareth.

"Once we are ashore what then?" The Prince touched the map.

"You should then move parallel with the border of Italian Eritrea - a

southwesterly heading until you encounter the swamp area where the

Awash River sinks into the desert. Then turn directly westwards and

you will cross the French Somali border and enter the Danakil country

of Ethiopia. I will arrange to meet your column here-" He turned to

his group of elderly advisers and asked a question. Immediately an

animated and high-volume discussion broke out, at the end of which

the

Prince turned back to them with a smile.

"We seem to be in general agreement that the rendezvous should be at

the Wells of Chaldi here." He showed them the map again. "As you can

see, it is well within Ethiopian territory. This will suit my

Government as well for the cars will be used in the defence of the

Sardi Gorge and the road to Dessie in the event of an Italian offensive

in that direction-" The Prince was interrupted by one of his advisers

and he listened for a few minutes before nodding in agreement and

turning back to the two white men. "It has been suggested that as your

journey from Month to the Wells of Chaldi will be through trackless

desert country some areas of which would be impassable to wheeled

vehicles we should provide you with a guide who knows the area-"

"That's more like it, "Jake growled with relief.

"That's absolutely splendid, Toffee," agreed Gareth.

"Very well. The young man I have chosen is a relative of mine, a

nephew. He speaks English well, having also spent three years at

school in England, and he knows the area through which you will be

travelling, as he has often hunted the lion there as a guest of a chief

in French territory." He spoke to one of the advisers in Amharic, and

the man nodded and left the cabin. "I have sent for him now. His name

is Gregorius Maryam." When he came, Gregorius was a young man probably

in his early twenties. However, he was almost as tall as his uncle

with the warrior's fierce dark eyes and eagle features but his skin was

smooth and hairless as a girl's, the colour of pale honey. He also was

dressed in Western European fashion, and his expression was intense and

intelligent.

His uncle spoke to him quietly in Amharic and he nodded, then turned to

meet Jake and Gareth.

"My uncle has explained what is required of me and I am honoured to be

of service." Gregorius's voice was clear and eager.

"Can you drive a motor car?" Jake asked unexpectedly, and

Gregorius smiled and nodded.

"Indeed, sir. I have my own Morgan sports car in Addis Ababa."

"That's great." Jake returned the smile. "But you'll find an armoured

car a rougher ride."

"Gregorius will pack what he needs for the journey, and join you

immediately. As you know, this ship sails at noon," observed the

Prince, and the young Ethiopian nobleman bowed to his uncle and left

the cabin.

"You now owe me a favour, Major Swales, and I request repayment

immediately." Lij Mikhael turned back to Gareth, whose complacency

evaporated immediately, to be replaced by an expression of mild

alarm.

Gareth had developed a healthy respect for the Prince's ability to

drive a bargain.

"Now listen here, old chap-" he began to protest, but the Prince went

on as though there had been no interruption.

"One of the few weapons that my country has to exploit is the

conscience of the civilized world-"

"I wouldn't give you much change for that," observed Jake.

"No," agreed the Prince sadly. "Not a very effective weapon as yet.

But if we can only inform the world of the injustices and unprovoked

aggression which we suffer then we can force the democratic nations to

come to our support.