by John Blaine
The driver considered.“Sokoto nearest. But who knows if there is transportation?” White teeth flashed in a smile. “Not so many taxis for Americans inNiger .”
Rick had an inspiration. The comment was that of a well-traveled man. “Are you a Hausa trader?” he asked.
“Who else travels the caravan path alone?”
Rick looked up into the smiling face. “Talata Dan-kali said if we met a Hausa trader we were to say that he asks help for us.”
The man let out a high squeal, a typical Hausa expression of astonishment.“Dankali! The potatowho was born on Tuesday? You are his friends?”
“Yes,” Rick replied. “We traded with him inKano .”
“Then you are my friends. I will take you to Sokoto. I am Alhamis Lango.” He peered out the cab window at the approaching dust cloud. “To take you, I must turn around and go back.So the veiled ones who are coming will be able to meet us on the path if we do not hurry. What will you do with the animals?”
“Leave them for the Buzos,” Tony replied promptly.
“Then leave them, but bring the water. I have only enough for one. Put the skins in the back. One rides with me.Two in the back. Have you weapons?”
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“None.”
“Then hide under the coconuts. We will pass close enough for them to shoot with rifles.”
The water bags were unlashed and tossed into the rear of the truck. Tony climbed into the front and the boys got into the back among sacks of coconuts the trader was bringing inland from the seacoast, and bags and boxes of assorted goods. “Ready!” Scotty yelled.
The lorry turned so fast they had to grab for support, then straightened out on the trail. Alhamis Lango put the accelerator to the floorboard and the ancient vehicle responded like a Grand Prix racer.
The boys watched as the dust cloud marking the veiled men changed direction to intercept them. For a moment or two they estimated relative speeds, then Scotty muttered, “It’s going to be close!”
“They’ll be shooting from camelback,” Rick said, with more reassurance than he felt.“Unsteady platform. Only luck could give them a hit.”
Scotty felt in his pocket and pulled out his sling. “We might be lucky, too. Still got yours?”
“Sure.” Rick produced it. “But what do we use for rocks?”
Scotty pointed to the sacks.“Monkey missiles.”
Coconuts!
Rick let out a whoop of delight, then leaned forward to assure the driver and Tony he hadn’t meant to sound an alarm. He added, “We’ve just bought a sack of coconuts.Going to use them for slingstones .”
Tony had long ago stopped being surprised at any innovation dreamed up by the team of Brant and Scott. He merely said, “Good shooting.”
Rick and Scotty got busy restacking boxes so each would have secure footing on which to stand.
“We’ll have to alternate,” Scotty said. “Otherwise, we’ll bean each other on the backstroke. You start, then duck to reload. We’ll go up and down like pogo sticks.”
The distance closed rapidly. They could see the veiled men clearly now, riding saddles placed ahead of the camels’ humps. The camels were Maharis, and Rick was astonished at their ground-eating pace, even though Tony had said they were fast. The camels seemed to skim over the ground with long strides, like a pacer. They would be a steadier gun platform than he had thought.
The Tuaregs were perhaps a half mile away now, cutting across at a sharp angle to intercept the truck.
There were four of them, rifles held ready, veils blowing in the speed of their pursuit.
The distance closed to about two hundred yards, and Rick saw flame blossom from a rifle muzzle. He waited for the impact of the bullet on the truck, but there was none. The rider had missed.
He took a coconut from the bag Scotty had opened, placed it in the sling pouch, and waited.
All four riders shot. All four missed. Rick estimated distance and speed, and let the pouch go. The coconut was as heavy as the bombs had been. He put his weight into the throw and saw the coconut sail Page 71
over the riders’ heads. He had judged the speed, but not the distance. He ducked and grabbed another coconut, placing it in the sling pouch.
Scotty fired, judged distance correctly, but not the speed. The coconut passed behind the riders.
Rick jumped up again. They were closer, and firing! He thought he heard the pop of a passing bullet, but held steady and swung the sling. Close! The coconut missed the lead camel by a hair. The beast swerved.
Then the Tuaregs were too close for slings. The boys started hurling coconuts like minature footballs.
Now and then a rifle bullet slammed into the truck, and one splintered the board side a foot from Rick’s thigh.
Scotty scored a hit on a camel’s outstretched neck. The beast leaped violently, unseating its rider. “I aimed for the rider!” Scotty yelled ruefully.
Then Rick got a lucky hit, beaning one of the veiled men and knocking him into the dust. He had aimed for the camel.
The truck had the advantage of speed. It began to pull away, and the Tuaregs fell in behind it, still firing.
A coconut exploded from a rifle bullet just as Scotty bent to pick it up. Another slug struck a jute bag and rice began to spill from the hole.
As the distance between the truck and the Tuaregs widened, the boys went back to slings again, taking turns. Rick aimed one at the lead rider’s head and hit his mount in the knee. The Mahari folded its knees and pitched the rider over its head. The camels behind it plowed into the fallen mount, and in a brief second the view of struggling camels and veiled riders was obscured in a thickening cloud of dust. They were free I
The boys shook hands solemnly. Rick had a sudden thought. His sister Barby hated to have him give her a wild, kidding answer when she asked a question.
“Barby’s going to ask ‘What excitement did you have inAfrica ?’ And I’ll answerWell , there was the time Scotty and I were chased by Tuaregs. We stopped them by throwing coconuts.’” He grinned, and Scotty grinned back.
“She won’t speak to you for a week,” Scotty told him.
Rick doubled up with laughter.
CHAPTER XIX
A Call on the Emir
Four Hausa men sped across the savanna in a borrowed Land Rover with six spare gas cans lashed to Page 72
its frame. The sun was setting behind the vehicle and there were still several miles to go.
Rick, his face as black as Alhamis Lango’s from a liberal application of stove blacking, drove. The real Hausa man sat beside him, giving directions. They were not on a road of any kind. The trader was taking them a roundabout way that, he assured them, would bypass the Emir’s patrols.
Scotty and Tony, their faces jet with polish, were in the back seat. The polish wouldn’t have fooled even a young child, because it takes more than color to change faces into convincing replicas of a different race. The coloring of the white of the eye differs, and is not changeable. The set of facial muscles differs from culture to culture and is not easily altered. The three knew all this. Their disguises were intended to deceive only from a distance, or in darkness.
Alhamis Lango had undertaken to guide them to within easy walking distance of the Emir of Kernel’s house. Beyond that he would not go. His reason was that for a Hausa trader to side with anyone against anyone else would be to bar doors to all Hausa traders. When the Hausas fought, they fought together in a common cause. At other times, they remained strictly neutral. Guiding the Americans was all right.
Aiding them was not.
As dusk fell, the Land Rover mounted the crest of a rise and rolled into a valley. Rick reached a grove of neem trees and the Hausa trader said, “We stop here.”
Rick braked to a stop and switched off the motor. The four climbed out of the vehicle and stretched.
“How far to the Emir’s?” Rick asked.“And in what direction?”
Alhamis pointed due east. “There.A little more t
han two kilometers. We eat now, and by the time we are through, you can start. When you arrive, all should be quiet.”
Dinner was sandwiches washed down with Fanta, with a bar of candy for dessert. They finished with a long drink of water-they couldn’t seem to get enough water in their bodies to be satisfied for long- then began to check equipment.
The Hausa man had delivered them to Sokoto, where the Sultan had made them welcome, furnished them with new clothes and a decent bed, and listened to their tale. “We must get your equipment back for this demonstration,” the aged religious leader agreed.“But how? The Emir’s main house where you were enslaved is probably inNiger . To go through diplomatic channels would take weeks, even months.
If I could persuade the Emir ofKano -or some other Nigerian Emir to send a force of men with you-it would certainly mean war between that Emir and Kernel, and it might even mean war betweenNigeria andNiger . At least it would be an international incident.”
The three conferred, then Tony spoke for all of them. “Give us a vehicle, weapons, and a guide, and we will get our own equipment back without official involvement.”
The Sultan agreed.“That I can do.”
The expedition was the result. Under the Hausa robes each of the three had a flashlight, pistol, and knife, and there were carbines for each with extra magazines. They had also prepared a rope ladder with a large steel cargo hook secured to one end. The rest of their equipment was a change of clothes, to black robes and turbans.
It was long after dark when they stopped at the high fence surrounding the Emir’s house. They had approached it from the back. Examination through cracks showed no lights on. They were practically Page 73
invisible in the black robes and turbans.
Rick put his carbine on the ground and took the rope ladder, holding the hook in position to grip the top of the fence. Scotty and Tony hoisted him high and he secured the hook, letting the ladder unroll. The two let him down and he swung his carbine over his shoulder by its sling. Scotty was already up the ladder. He swung over and dropped. Tony followed. Rick went up the swaying ladder, straddled the top and pulled the ladder after him, reversing it so it hung inside. He went down and joined the other three.
They worked smoothly, according to plan. Rick un-slung his carbine and gripped it, then moved to the left. Tony followed. Scotty went around to the right. They weren’t certain where the guard would be.
Rick rounded the house corner and paused. Nothing moved in the darkness. He continued down the side of the house, peered around the corner, and drew back. The guard was sitting at the corner, smoking a pipe.
Rick drew a deep breath, gripped his carbine tightly, stepped swiftly around the corner,then struck with the barrel. The guard pitched forward without a sound. Rick bent over him. He was breathing unsteadily, and starting to stir. The blow had only stunned him. There wasn’t time to be merciful. Rick struck again and the man went limp. A quick check of his wrist pulse showed he was only unconscious. By the time he came to they would either be successful or ...
Rick kept moving and saw Scotty as a moving shadow. They moved together to the main door, Tony close behind. It had an old fashioned pull-up latch.
Scotty worked it and the door swing open with a faint squeak.
Inside the house they moved slowly, fearful of knocking something over. Scotty led the way to the Emir’s chambers, across his “throne room,” to the doors in the rear. There were three. They listened at each one in turn. The third brought sounds of heavy, masculine breathing.
The door was ajar, the bed faintly visible because of a white covering. They moved to it like shadows.
Tony took up guard position at the door while the boys bent over the bed.
Within seconds, the Emir of Kernel awoke with a needle-sharp Nigerian dagger pricking his throat and a flashlight beaming into his bulging eyes.
“One move and you’re dead,” Scotty said briskly.
The Emir’s dry lips formed two words: “The Americans.”
“That’s right,” Rick told him. “We’ve come for you and our equipment. If anyone comes, tell them to make no hostile moves. From now on, at least two pistols will be pointed at you. One wrong move and you die first.”
From across a connecting door came a shrill scream. One of the Emir’s wives, a light sleeper, had awakened.
Rick covered the Emir with cocked pistol and light. “Remember,” he warned. “Tell your people that your life depends on their good behavior.”
A guard crashed in through the door and Tony dropped him with a swing of his carbine. Then Elijah Page 74
leaped into a butt stroke from Scotty and went down across the guard.
“Yell it out!” Rick snapped. “Quick, if you want to live!”
The Emir shouted in his native dialect, and the screaming and clatter outside stopped as though someone had shut off a radio.
Three pistols and lights covered the Emir. “Get dressed,” Tony ordered. “Where is our jeep and equipment?”
“Suppose I don’t tell you?” the Emir asked dryly.
Tony answered calmly, “Only a fool talks like that to men as desperate as we are, and you’re not a fool.
Where is it?”
“In a dry wash a half mile north of here.”
“Lead us to it,” Tony said.
The Emir dressed quickly while the three waited, ready to fire instantly if necessary. Elijah stirred and sat up, rubbing his battered face. He sized up the situation instantly, and spoke to the Emir in the dialect.
“Speak English only,” Rick ordered harshly.
“Very well.I said to my master that he need not fear, that his people would follow and die for him if need be.”
“But he will die first,” Tony stated. “Keep that in mind. Stay away from us or he gets it first. You’ll try to follow us. We don’t mind that, unless you get too close. Is that clear?”
“Quite,” Elijah said dejectedly.
“They will not harm me,” the Emir said coolly, “if we do as they say. The wheel will spin and it will be our turn. Until then, obey them.” He turned to his captors. “Follow me. I will take you to the equipment.”
Tony stepped into the lead and the people outside the door made room for him to pass. Rick and Scotty walked on either side of the Emir, cocked pistols held tightly against his side. Once clear of the house, they moved beyond arm’s reach, but continued to keep him covered. The Emir led them to the gate near the groundnut fields, across the fields, through a grove of acacia and into a shallow gully. The jeep and trailer were there.
“Sit down,” Rick directed. He kept the Emir covered while Scotty checked the equipment on the trailer and Tony tried to start the jeep. It ground painfully a few times, then the engine caught
“Equipment’s all here,” Scotty said. “Only my rifle is missing. I hope everything is still in working order.”
“It better be,” Rick said flatly, “for the Emir’s sake.”
Scotty got into the rear seat of the jeep, flashlight and pistol ready.
“The front seat,” Rick directed the Emir, and kept the pistol on him until he was seated. “Your men Page 75
brought us to you in this jeep,” Rick told the Emir. “They lashed us to the seat and blindfolded us. We won’t blindfold you.”
While Scotty held his pistol to the back of the Emir’s head, Rick lashed his wrists to the seat frame. He tested the bonds, then climbed into the back.
Tony turned on the jeep lights and put it into gear. They climbed out of the gully and headed toward the grove where the Hausa trader waited.
Rick was exultant. They had the Emir, but more important, they had the equipment. And the demonstration was still a few days away.
CHAPTER XX
Signal from Sokoto
The laser was mounted on its heavy tripod, looking like a cross between a cannon and a lunch box.
From the top of the container a “sunflower” antenna raised its dish to the sky. From the street
in front of the Sultan’s ancient mansion where the laser was located, a heavy power cable ran to the pole where the boys had tapped into the Sultan’s power line. An extension from the Sultan’s telephone had been brought into the street, terminating in a mouthpiece-earphone set worn by Scotty.
An interested and colorful crowd surrounded the setup, but at a respectful distance. The Sultan sat in a comfortable chair and watched with interest. Next to him, also comfortably seated, was the Emir of Kernel. Behind the two chairs were the Sultan’s guards, erect and watchful.
Rick Brant, waiting with headset on, turned and grinned at the Emir. “Remember we said you could watch if you turned over our equipment and came with us to Sokoto? We keep our promises.”
The Emir shifted, to ease his weight from a bruise left by the jeep ride. “I remember. However, the circumstances are not quite what I expected.”
Tony Briotti, who was working a camera borrowed from the Sultan, called suddenly, “Watch it!”
Elijah and Red Turban had just appeared at the crowd’s edge! They had followed the Spindrifters to Sokoto.
The Emir called to them in Hausa. Elijah, his bruised face scowling, answered.
“I told them to stand quietly and watch,” the Emir explained. “Violence in the presence of the Sultan would be unthinkable.”
Scotty held up a hand for silence. “Ready. Rick, coordinates coming.”
Rick gripped the handles that would point the laser. Once pointed, the antenna would pick up a radio Page 76
beam from the satellite and the whole system would be “slaved” to the beam, automatically following the satellite’s motion.
“Azimuth 281 degrees, eighteen minutes and three seconds,” Scotty called.
Rick repeated the figures, turning the handle that pointed the laser to the northwest. When the marks on the azimuth circle were set properly, he called, “Set on azimuth.”
Scotty spoke to Parnell Winston inLagos . “Azimuth set.” He listened, then called to Rick, “Elevation 39
degrees, four minutes.”
Rick repeated it, turning the handle that tilted the laser skyward. The beep-beep-beep of the satellite’s radio signal sounded in his earphone and grew louder as he cranked. He adjusted the settings until the sound was at maximum volume, then threw the switch thatslaved the laser to the signal. “Locked on and tracking automatically,” he reported.
