Border, Breed Nor Birth

by James A. Cox

foundingscientific socialism had no expectation that their followers wouldfirst come to power in such backward countries as the Russia of 1917or the China of 1949. In fact, the establishment of true socialismpresupposes a highly developed industrial economy. It is simplyimpossible without such an economy. When Lenin came to power in 1917,as a result of the chaotic conditions that prevailed upon the militarycollapse of Imperial Russia, he had no expectation of going it alone,as the British would say. He expected immediate revolutions in suchcountries as Germany and France and supposed that these more advancedcountries would then come to the assistance of the Soviet Union andall would advance together to true socialism."

  * * * * *

  "It didn't work out that way," the man called Anton said dryly.

  "No, it didn't. And Lenin didn't live to see the steps that Stalinwould take in order to build the necessary industrial base in Russia."Kirill Menzhinsky looked about the room, almost as though checking tosee if anyone else was listening. "Some of our more unorthodoxtheoreticians are inclined to think that had Lenin survived theassassin's bullet, that Comrade Stalin would have found it necessaryto, ah, liquidate him."

  The Russian cleared his throat. "Be that as it may, basic changes weremade in Marxist teachings to fit into Stalin's and later Khrushchev'snew concepts of the worker's State. And the Soviet Union muddledthrough, as the British have it. Today, the Soviet Complex is aspowerful as the imperialist powers."

  The espionage leader knocked back his vodka with a practiced stiffwristed motion. "Which brings us to the present and to North Africa."He leaned forward in emphasis. "Comrade, if the past half century andmore has taught us anything, it is that you cannot establish socialismin a really backward country. In short, communism is impossible inNorth Africa at this point in her social evolution. Impossible. Youcannot go directly from tribal society to communism. At this historicpoint, there is no place for the party's program in North Africa."

  The man called Anton scowled.

  The Russian waggled his hand negatively. "Yes, yes. I know.Ultimately, the whole world must become Soviet. Only that way will weachieve our eventual goal. But that is the long view. Realistically,we must face it, as the Yankees say. This area is not at present soilfor our seed."

  "Things move fast these days," the Negro growled. "Industrialization,education, can be a geometric progression."

  His superior nodded emphatically. "Of course, and as little as ten orfifteen years from now, given progress at the present rate, perhapsthere will be opportunity for our movement. But now? No."

  The other said, "What has all this to do with El Hassan, or Crawford,or whatever the man's name is?"

  "Yes," the Russian said. "Homer Crawford has evidently decided tobecome El Hassan."

  "Ahhh."

  "Yes. At this point, in short, he is traveling in our direction. He isdoing what we realize must be done."

  "Then we will support him?"

  "Now we come to the point, Anton. Homer Crawford is not sympathetic tothe Party. To the contrary. Our suspicion, although we have no proof,is that he killed Comrade Abe Baker, when Baker approached him on hisstand in regard to the Party's long view."

  "I see," the man called Anton said.

  The Russian nodded. "We must keep in some sort of touch with him--somesort of control. If this El Hassan realizes his scheme and unites allNorth Africa, sooner or later we will have to deal with him. If he isantagonistic, we will have to find means to liquidate him."

  "And my assignment...?"

  "He will be gathering followers at this point. Many followers, most ofwhom will be unknown to him. You will become one of them. Raiseyourself to as high a rank as you find possible in his group. Become aclose friend, if that can be done...."

  "He killed Abe Baker, eh?"

  The Russian frowned. "This is an assignment, Comrade Anton. There isno room for personal feelings. You are a good field man. Among thebest. You are being given this task because the Party feels you arethe man for it. Possibly it is an assignment that will take years inthe fulfilling."

  The Negro said nothing.

  "Are there any questions?"

  "Do we have any other operatives working on this?"

  The frown became a scowl. "An Isobel Cunningham worked with ComradeBaker, but it has been suspected that she has been drifting away fromthe party these past few years. Her present status is unknown, but sheis believed to be with Homer Crawford and his followers. Possibly shehas defected. If so, you will take whatever measures seem necessary.You will be working almost completely on your own, Comrade. You mustthink on your feet, as the Yankees say."

  The man called Anton thought a moment. He said, "You'd better give meas thorough a run down as possible on this Homer Crawford and hisimmediate followers."

  * * * * *

  Menzhinsky settled back in his chair and took up a sheaf of papersfrom the desk. "We have fairly complete dossiers. I'll give you thehighlights, then you can take these with you to your hotel to study atleisure."

  He took up the first sheet. "Homer Crawford. Born in Detroit ofworking-class parents. In his late teens interrupted his education tocome to Africa where he joined elements of the F.L.N. in Morocco andtook part in several forays into Algeria. Evidently was wounded andinvalided back to the States where he resumed his education. When hecame of military age, he joined the Marine Corps and spent the usual,ah, hitch I believe they call it. Following that, he resumed hiseducation, finally taking a doctor's degree in sociology. He thentaught for a time until the Reunited Nations began its Africanprogram. He accepted a position, and soon distinguished himself."

  The Russian took up another paper. "According to Comrade Baker'sreports, Crawford is an outstanding personality, dominating others,even in spite of himself. He would make a top party man. Idealistic,strong, clever, ruthless when ruthlessness is called for."

  Menzhinsky paused for a moment, finding words hard to come by from anultra-materialist. His tone went wry. "Comrade Baker also reported asomewhat mystical quality in our friend Crawford. An ability in timesof emotional crisis to break down men's mental barriers against him. A_force_ that ..."

  The other raised his eyebrows.

  His superior chuckled, ruefully. "Comrade Baker was evidently muchswayed by the man's personality. However, Anton, I might point outthat similar reports have come down to us of such a dominatingpersonality in Lenin, and, to a lesser degree, in Stalin." He twistedhis mouth. "History leads us to believe that such personalities asJesus and Mohammed seemed to have some power beyond that of we moremundane types."

  "And the others?" Anton said.

  The Russian took up still another paper. "Elmer Allen. Born of smallfarmer background on the outskirts of Kingston, on the island ofJamaica. Managed to work his way through the University of Kingstonwhere he took a master's degree in sociology. At one time he wasthought to be Party material and was active in several organizationsthat held social connotations, pacifist groups and so forth. However,he was never induced to join the Party. Upon graduation, heimmediately took employment with the Reunited Nations and was assignedto Homer Crawford's team. He is evidently in accord with Crawford'saims as El Hassan."

  The espionage chief took up another sheet. "Bey-ag-Akhamouk ..."

  The other scowled. "That can't be an American name."

  "No. He is the only real African associated with Crawford at thispoint. He was evidently born a Taureg and taken to the States at anearly age, three or four, by a missionary. At any rate, he waseducated at the University of Minnesota where he studied politicalscience. We have no record of where he stands politically, but ComradeBaker rated him as an outstanding intuitive soldier. A veritablegenius in combat. He would seem to have had military experiencesomewhere, but we have no record of it. Our Bey-ag-Akhamouk seemssomewhat of a mystery man."

  The Russian sorted out another sheet. "Kenneth Ballalou, born inLouisiana, educated in Chicago. Another young man but evidently ascapable as th
e others. He seems to be quite a linguist. So far as weknow, he holds no political stand whatsoever."

  Menzhinsky pursed his lips before saying, "The Isobel Cunningham Imentioned worked with the Africa for Africans Association with twocolleagues, a Jacob Armstrong and Clifford Jackson. It is possiblethat these two, as well as Isobel Cunningham, have joined El Hassan.If so, we will have to check further upon them, although I understandArmstrong is rather elderly and hardly effective under thecircumstances."

  The man called Anton said evenly, "And this former comrade, IsobelCunningham, has evidently joined with Crawford even though he ... wasthe cause of Abe Baker's death?"

  "Evidently."

  The Negro's eyes narrowed.

  The other said, "And evidently she is a most intelligent andattractive young lady. We had rather high hopes for her formerly."

  The Negro party member came to his feet and gathered up the sheaf ofpapers from the desk. "All right," he said. "Is there anything else?"

  The espionage chief shook his head. "You do not need a step by stepblueprint, Anton, that is why you have been chosen for thisassignment. You are strongly based in Party doctrine. You know what isneeded, we can trust you to carry on the Party's aims." After a pause,the Russian added, "Without being diverted by personal feelings."

  Anton looked him in the face. "Of course," he said.

  * * * * *

  Fredric Ostrander was on the carpet.

  His chief said, "You seem to have conducted yourself ratherprecipitately, Fred."

  Ostrander shrugged in irritation. "I didn't have time to consultanyone. By pure luck, I spotted the Cunningham girl and since I knewshe had affiliated herself with Crawford, I followed her."

  The chief said dryly, "And tried to arrest the seven of them, all byyourself."

  "I couldn't see anything else to do."

  The C.I.A. official said, "In the first place, we have no legaljurisdiction here and you could have caused an international stink.The Russkies would just love to bring something like this onto theReunited Nations floor. In the second place, you failed. How in theworld did you expect to take on that number of men, especiallyCrawford and his team?"

  Ostrander flushed his irritation. "Next time ..." he began.

  His chief waved a hand negatively. "Let's hope there isn't going to benext time, of this type." He took up a paper from his desk. "Here'syour new job, Fred. You're to locate this El Hassan and keep incontinual contact with him. If he meets with any sort of success atall, and frankly our agency doubts that he will, you will attempt tobring home to Crawford and his followers the fact that they areAmericans, and orientate them in the direction of the West. Above all,you are to keep in touch with us and keep us informed on alldevelopments. Especially notify us if there is any sign that our ElHassan is in communication with the Russkies or any other foreignelement."

  "Right," Ostrander said.

  His chief looked at him. "We're giving you this job, Fred, becauseyou're more up on it than anyone else. You're in at the beginning, soto speak. Now, do you want me to assign you a couple of assistants?"

  "White men?" Ostrander said.

  His higher-up scowled. "You know you're the only Negro in our agency,Fred."

  Fredric Ostrander, his voice still even, said, "That's too bad,because anyone you assigned me who wasn't a Negro would be a hindrancerather than an assistant."

  The other drummed his fingers on the table in irritation. He saidsuddenly, "Fred, do you think I ought to do a report to GreaterWashington suggesting they take more Negro operatives into theagency?"

  Ostrander said dryly, "You'd better if this department is going to getmuch work done in Africa." He stood up. "I suppose that the sooner Iget onto the job, the better. Do you have any idea at all whereCrawford and his gang headed after they left me unconscious in thatfilthy hut?"

  "No, we haven't the slightest idea of where they might be, other thanthat they left your car abandoned at the Yoff airport."

  "Oh, great," Fredric Ostrander complained. "They've gone into hidingin an area somewhat twice the size of the original fifty UnitedStates."

  "Good luck," his chief said.

  * * * * *

  Rex Donaldson, formerly of Nassau in the British Bahamas, formerly ofthe College of Anthropology, Oxford, now field man for the AfricanDepartment of the British Commonwealth working at expediting nativedevelopment, was taking time out for needed and unwonted relaxation.In fact, he stretched out on his back in the most comfortable bed, inthe most comfortable hotel, in the Niger town of Mopti. His handswere behind his head, and his scowling eyes were on the ceiling.

  He was a small, bent man, inordinately black even for the Sudan andthe loincloth costume he wore was ludicrous in the Westernized comfortof the hotel room. He was attired for the bush and knew that it wassheer laziness now that kept him from taking off for the Dogon countryof the Canton de Sangha where he was currently working to bring downtribal prejudices against the coming of the schools. He had his workcut out for him in the Dogon, the old men, the tribal elders theycalled Hogons, instinctively knew that the coming of education meantsubversion of their institutions and the eventual loss of Hogon power.

  His portable communicator, sitting on the bedside table, buzzed andthe little man grumbled a profanity and swung his crooked legs aroundto the floor. His eyebrows went up when he realized it was a prioritycall which probably meant from London.

  He flicked the reception switch and a girl's face faded onto thescreen. She said, "A moment, Mr. Donaldson, Sir Winton wants you."

  "Right," Rex Donaldson said. Sir Winton, yet. Head of the AfricanDepartment. Other than photographs, Donaldson had never seen hisultimate superior, not to mention speaking to him personally.

  The girl's face faded out and that of Sir Winton Brett-Homes faded in.The heavy-set, heavy-faced Englishman looked down, obviously checkingsomething on his desk. He looked up again, said, "Rex Donaldson?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "I won't waste time on preliminaries, Donaldson. We've beendiscussing, here, some of the disconcerting rumors coming out of yoursection. Are you acquainted with this figure, El Hassan?"

  The black man's eyes widened. He said, cautiously, "I have heard agood many stories and rumors."

  "Yes, of course. They have been filtering into this office for morethan a year. But thus far little that could be considered concrete hasdeveloped."

  Rex Donaldson held his peace, waited for the other to go on.

  Sir Winton said impatiently, "Actually, we are still dealing withrumors, but they are beginning to shape up. Evidently, this El Hassanhas finally begun to move."

  "Ahhh," the wiry little field man breathed.

  The florid faced Englishman said, "As we understand it, he wishes tocut across tribal, national and geographic divisions in all NorthAfrica, wishes to unite the whole area from Sudan to theMediterranean."

  "Yes," Donaldson nodded. "That seems to be his program."

  Sir Winton said, "It has been decided that the interests of HerMajesty's government and that of the Commonwealth hardly coincide withsuch an attempt at this time. It would lead to chaos."

  "Ahhh," Donaldson said.

  Sir Winton wound it up, all but beaming. "Your instructions, then,are to seek out this El Hassan and combat his efforts with whatevermeans you find necessary. We consider you one of our most competentoperatives, Donaldson."

  Rex Donaldson said slowly, "You mean that he is to be stopped at allcost?"

  The other cleared his throat. "You are given carte blanche, Donaldson.You and our other operatives in the Sahara and Sudan. Stop El Hassan."

  Rex Donaldson said flatly, "You have just received my resignation, SirWinton."

  "What ... what!"

  "You heard me," Donaldson said.

  "But ... but what are you going to do?" The heavy face of the AfricanDepartment head was going a reddish-purple, which rather fascinatedDonaldson but he had no time to further contem
plate the phenomenon.

  "I'm going to round up a few of my colleagues, of similar mind to myown, and then I'm going to join El Hassan," the little man snapped."Good-bye, Sir Winton."

  He clicked the set off and then looked down at it. His dour face brokeinto a rare grin. "Now there's an ambition I've had for donkey'syears," he said aloud. "To hang up on a really big mucky-muck."

  IV

  Following the attack of the unidentified rocketcraft, El Hassan'sparty was twice again nearly flushed by reconnoitering planes ofunknown origin. They weren't making the time they wanted.

  Beneath a projecting rock face over a gravel bottomed wadi, the twohover-lorries were hidden, whilst a slow-moving helio-jet madesweeping, high-altitude circlings above them.

  The six stared glumly upward.

  Cliff Jackson who was on the radio called out, "I just picked him up.He's called in to Fort Lamy reporting no luck. His fuel's runningshort and he'll be knocking off soon."

  Homer Crawford rapped, "What language?"

  "French," Cliff said, "but it's not his. I mean he's not French, justusing the language."

  Bey's face was as glum as any and there was a tic at the side of