by James A. Cox
and get backto how most efficiently to clobber these Arabs--"
* * * * *
The Hindu entered Kirill Menzhinsky's small office behind the Indiansouvenir shop in the Tangier Zocco Chico and said, "The operativeAnton is on the receiver."
The agent superior of the _Chrezvychainaya Komissiya_ for North Africalooked up from his desk and grunted acceptance of the message. He cameto his feet and followed the other into a back room and took his placebefore a mouthpiece and screen.
The man whose party name was Anton nodded a greeting.
Kirill Menzhinsky said, "It's about time I heard from you, Anton."
"Yes. But the situation has been such that it was not easy to report."
"And now?"
"Briefly, I am at El Hassan's headquarters. You were correct. He is inactuality Homer Crawford. The others you mentioned are also with him,including the traitor Isobel Cunningham."
The Soviet Complex's agent allowed his eyebrows to rise.
Anton said flatly, "The dame has evidently renounced the party and nowholds high rank in Crawford's inner circle."
"And you?"
"I am rapidly becoming his right-hand man. I am his press secretaryand in charge of communications. Early in our acquaintanceship I wasable to engineer an attempted assassination. I was able to, ah, savethe life of El Hassan."
The Russian's eyes narrowed. "The assassins? Is there any chance thatthey might reveal your little trick?"
Anton grimaced. "I am not a fool, Kirill. Both of them were killed inthe assassination attempt. El Hassan was most grateful."
"I see. And how would you sum up the present situation?"
"This area is swinging rapidly to El Hassan, but any sort of defeatand undoubtedly his followers would melt away. The bedouin are toovolatile. Before he ever makes any real headway he will have to takethe major commercial and industrial cities such as Dakar, Kano,Lagos, Accra, Freetown, Khartoum, and eventually, of course, Cairo,Casablanca, Algiers and so forth."
"And our friend El Hassan leans not at all in our direction?"
The man the Party called Anton shook his head. "He leans in nodirection, except that which will unite and modernize North Africa.Neither do his immediate followers. They're a well-knit group and itseems unlikely that I could pry any of them away from him in case itbecame desirable."
"I see," Kirill Menzhinsky muttered. "I understand that a delegationfrom Moscow has arrived in El Hassan's camp. Have you contacted them?"
"Certainly not. My orders were to rise in the El Hassan hierarchy andawait further orders. None of my current, ah, colleagues have anysuggestion that I am identified with the Party. Which reminds me, anAmerican C.I.A. man, Fredric Ostrander, has shown up. The fool seemsto be under the impression that El Hassan is a Party tool."
"I know this Ostrander. Don't underestimate him, Anton. He's anextremely competent operative in the clutch, as the Americans callit."
"Perhaps. But nevertheless, there is no indication that the El Hassanmovement leans either to East or West, nor do I see any signs that itis apt to in the future."
The Russian was scowling. "I see. Then perhaps it will be necessaryfor us to do something to topple our El Hassan before he becomes muchstronger, and to find another to unite North Africa."
Anton frowned in his turn. "I don't know. This man Crawford--and hisfollowers, for that matter--are motivated by high ideals. As you havesaid, North Africa is not ready for our socio-economic system. Men ofthe caliber of Homer Crawford could bring it into the modern ageperhaps more quickly than another."
Menzhinsky chuckled. "Don't worry about it, Anton. Such matters ofpolicy will be decided by others than you, or even me. Keep in touchwith me more often, in the future, Anton."
"Yes, Comrade." His face faded from the screen.
* * * * *
Tamanrasset lies at an altitude of approximately 4,600 feet, aboutaverage for the Ahaggar plateau. Around it, such peaks as the Tahatreach 9,600 feet above sea level. The country is rugged, jagged, bleakbeyond belief. With the possible exception of Southern Afghanistan inthe Khyber area, there is no place in the world more suited forguerrilla warfare, less suited for the proper utilization of modernarmor, particularly when the latter is forced to work without aircover.
Homer Crawford, equipped with an old-style telescope, wasspread-eagled on top a rock outcropping, his only companion IsobelCunningham. Directly before him, possibly two miles in distance, wasthe desert city of Tamanrasset, to the right, a kilometer or so, Amselwhere palatable water was to be found at eighteen meters depth.
"Our friend, the colonel, is up to something," he grumbled.
She had a pair of binoculars, of considerably less power than hisglass.
"It looks as though Guemama's boys are on the run," she said.
"As per orders. The primary theory of partisan warfare is not to getkilled. The guerrilla never stands and fights. If the regular forceshe opposes can bring him to bay, they've got him." He interruptedhimself to clip out, "Look at that tank, darling! There on the left!"
Isobel tightened, looked at him quickly from the side of her eyes. No.He'd said it inadvertently, his mind concentrated on the fighting menbelow. She had often wondered where she stood with Homer Crawford theman, as opposed to El Hassan the idealist. The tip of her tonguelicked the side of her mouth, as she surreptitiously took him in. ButCrawford the man would have to wait, there was no time, no time.
Isobel swung her glasses. "The one starting to go in a circle? There,it stopped."
"One of the snipers got its commander," Homer said. "You can't fight atank without the commander's head being up through the hatch. That's apopular fallacy. You can't see well enough to fight your tank unlessyou've got your head up. And that's suicide when you're againstguerrillas. The colonel ought to send his infantry out first."
Isobel said, "What did you mean when you said that he's up tosomething?"
Homer's eye was still glued to the eyepiece of his glass. "He's leavinghis entrenchments and sending his vehicles out to capture our ... ourstrong points."
"You mean our water, don't you?"
Bey came snaking up to them on his belly. He came abreast of Homer andbrought forth his own binoculars. He watched for a moment and thenmuttered a curse under his breath.
"Guemama better start pulling back those men more quickly," he said.
"He will. He's a good man," Homer told him. "What's up?"
"Evidently, Colonel Ibrahim has decided to come out of retirement.He's sent small motorized elements to Effok, In Fedjeg, Otoul and evento Tahifet."
"And--?"
"And has taken them all, of course. Our men fall back, fighting astubborn rear-guard action, taking as few casualties as possible."
"I don't get it," Homer bit out. "He's using up his fuel andammunition and losing more men than we are. Certainly he can't figure,with the thousand odd troops he has, to be able to take and holdenough of the oases and water holes in this vicinity to push us outcompletely."
Bey said, "What worries me is the possibility that he knows somethingwe don't. That he's figuring on being relieved or has a new source offuel, ammunition and men on tap."
"The roads are cut. Our men hold every source of water from here toLibya and the Reunited Nations has put thumbs down on aircraft whicheliminates an air lift."
"Yeah," Bey said, unhappily.
* * * * *
That evening, following the day's last meal, Cliff came into theheadquarters tent grinning, broadly. "Hey, guess what we'veliberated."
"A bottle of Scotch?" Kenny said hopefully.
"A king-size portable radio transmitter. Ralph Sandell knew about it.The Sahara Afforestation Project people were going to use it topropagandize the tribesmen into coming in and taking jobs in the newoases."
Dave Moroka, who'd been censoring press releases, shook his head."That's why we need an El Hassan in this country," he complained."They put a coup
le of million dollars into a radio transmitter, neverasking themselves how many of the bedouin own radios."
Jack Peters said, "Wait a moment, you chaps. Didn't Bey capture acouple of Arab Legion radio technicians today?"
"They defected to us," Homer Crawford said, looking up from animprovised desk where he was poring over some supply papers withIsobel. "What did you have in mind, Jack?"
"There are radios in Tamanrasset. In fact, there's probably a radio inevery one of those military vehicles of Ibrahim's. Why can't weblanket these Arab
