Assignment - Karachi (21 page)

K’Ayub looked pale. Durell turned his head toward him.

“Can you identify the weapons out there?”

The colonel nodded. “Pakhustis. The Chinese rifles are lighter. You were right about Rudi von Buhlen. He must have had the chart. He went to Mirandhabad or met the Emir on our back trail and led them here. I swear by Allah, he will not survive this treachery.”

One of K’Ayub’s men spoke quietly to him. K’Ayub nodded and the man began to inch ahead, rifle cradled in his arms, toward the two visible pickets who had fallen beyond the cave entrance. The trooper almost reached the first body when a rain of bullets stitched across the open shale. The man got up to run back and pitched onto his face, his body jerking with the impact of a dozen slugs in his back.

The ambushers were well hidden on both flanks of the fissure. Durell counted K’Ayub’s sprawled, tense men. Nineteen. Their cartridge belts were full, and one of them suddenly sprayed an angry burst outward into the empty air. K’Ayub’s sharp order to save ammunition halted him.

“We have enough water in our canteens for two days,” Durell suggested. “And some emergency rations in our pockets. If you can work your radio in here, we might contact one of your posts for relief. Those people out there can’t get in to us.”

“Nor can we get out,” K’Ayub said bitterly.

“Try the radio,” Durell suggested.

The light was fading rapidly. A damp chill filled the cavern. The radio man crawled forward, looking dubiously at the rock walls towering above them. His equipment was in fitted canvas cases. He blew on his hands, hooked up battery and transmitter, extended the thin whip of an antenna as high as possible, and began calling quietly into the microphone, then paused at regular intervals to listen in the earphones over his head. Again and again he sent out his signal. The minutes ticked by. K’Ayub made a tentative gesture.

“The mountain blocks us,” the radio man said. “It is useless.”

“Can you get anything from Post Blue?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“Very well. Save your power pack until later.”

It grew dark outside. K’Ayub ordered all flashlights turned off. The blackness made the penetrating cold seem worse.

“It is hopeless,” K’Ayub said quietly to Durell. “They need only to keep us bottled up here for two days.” He gestured back into the cavern. “Then we can join our bones with those ancient ones. If one thousand men could not get out, we will die here, too.” He lifted his head and looked outward. Nothing could be seen. There were no challenges from outside. “We will wait until dark. Then we can try to get the radio out far enough to make a successful transmission. It’s our only chance.”

The time dragged by. The troopers huddled together, facing the only exit. A foot or two away, and they became invisible in the inky dark. K’Ayub ordered three men forward, about fifty paces from the main group, to act as alarm if the cave entrance was infiltrated. Durell moved over and sat beside Alessa. She was a dim, remote figure, absorbed in her defeat, seated on a blanket and hugging her knees.

“If we get out of here,” he suggested, to cheer her, “you’ll gain international fame. Surely this discovery should be enough for you.”

“I wanted the jewels,” she whispered, like a disappointed child.

“You might never have found these relics at all, though.” “Just these bones? A few scraps of armor? What can they do for me or my mother, for my family in Vienna?” “Why is it so important to recoup your family fortune?” “It is a dream I have always had—like an infection. Perhaps I got it from Rudi.” She drew a deep breath. “I am sorry. I must seem childish, sulking this way. Please forgive me. I have been cruel to you—and to Hans, too. I wish—” She paused for a moment. “But nothing matters, does it? We will not get out of here alive.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“I know the truth. You will die. All the soldiers will die.” “And you?”

“I think I will be permitted to live. But I shall not want to live, knowing that all of you are left here.”

“Is it Rudi out there, with the enemy?”

“It must be.”

“You gave him Bergmann’s chart, didn’t you?”

“I gave him the packet that Sarah turned over to me to return to him. I suppose it contained Uncle Ernst’s charts, showing this place. But we didn’t need them, did we— thanks to Omar. But I do not want to be reminded of that night.”

“There are some hours of it I won’t forget,” he said gently.

“But I am ashamed of that, too. I was frightened. I felt as if I had been near death, and I wanted you, to be reassured I was still warm and alive. How can I ever explain that to Hans?”

“Must you?” he asked.

“I would like to. I wish I could.”

He got up and left her and walked to the front of the cave. K’Ayub’s radio man had wriggled forward with his transmitter in the darkness, to try to get away from the suffocating walls that blocked his message.

“We have no hope,” the colonel murmured, “unless we can contact the military posts.”

They waited.

Several minutes went by in the cold darkness.

Then there was a rifle shot. A grenade burst, the explosion like a blast of lightning that illuminated the narrow fissure. In the glare, Durell saw the radio man twist about, holding his canvas-covered transmitter. Then the man fell and darkness returned.

“We need that radio,” Durell said.

He started forward before K’Ayub could object. Only the faintest hint of starlight beyond the cave opening guided him. He moved in a silent half-crouch, advancing toward the fallen man. One of K’Ayub’s pickets challenged him softly. He gave his name, and the invisible trooper touched him, and he went on. Ahead, he heard a scraping on the rubble that littered the floor. The high cliff walls were farther apart here, admitting a little more starlight from above.

He called out softly, gave his name. The radio man groaned. “It is my leg, Durell sahib.”

He reached the man in another moment. He was only twenty feet from the fissure opening. He could hear the'“ faint fluttering from Bergmann’s red flag at the entrance. The wounded trooper was a dark huddle nearby, and he pulled himself toward the man.

“I’ll take the radio. Can you go in alone?”

“Yes.”

“Did you get a chance to send out a signal?”

“It is hopeless from in here.”

The man crawled painfully in toward the cave. Durell gathered up the canvas straps of the radio and slung them over his shoulder. Before he could retreat, a flare burst directly in his eyes, dazzling in white magnesium brilliance. He twisted, started to drop again, and someone called his name.

“Durell! Do not move!”

He froze. The flare blinded him. It was Rudi’s voice. The flare sputtered and smoked only a few feet away. He knew he was clearly visible to both sides, to those inside the cave and the Pakhusti tribesmen outside. He also knew he had never been closer to sudden death. He did not move.

Rudi called harshly, “Is Alessa inside with you?”

“Yes.”

“You realize your situation is hopeless?”

“Come out here where I can see you,” Durell challenged. There was a pause. Then, “Very well. Perhaps we can come to a sensible arrangement. There is no reason for any of us to die here. But before I come out, I must make it clear that I speak to you in a truce. Do you understand? If I am attacked, Sarah Standish will be killed at once.”

“Is she with you?”

She is here.”

“Let me see her,” Durell said. “Let her come with you.” “No. You must take my word. If I die, she dies. Agreed?” Durell did not hesitate. “Agreed.”

Rudi stepped out from behind an upthrust of rock at the entrance to the huge split in the rock. He was alone. Durell looked back into the darkness of the cave. He could see nothing there, but he hoped that K’Ayub had heard everything and had warned his men not to fire. The troopers were hot-tempered, eager for revenge at being ambushed.

He turned back to Rudi. The flare sputtered between them, a small fusee that would last only a minute or two. It would have to be quick, Durell thought. He could take no chances that Rudi was not telling the truth about Sarah being a hostage out there with the hillmen.

Rudi looked bigger in the light of the flare, his yellow hair long and gleaming; his Parka hood was shoved back on his shoulders, and his wide smile was confident.

“So now,” he began slowly, “we speak the truth here.” “It’s a bit overdue,” Durell told him.

“You know the facts. Your position is hopeless. You cannot get out of the cave by force. We have machine guns placed to cut you down if you step out. We have only to wait, if you are stubborn, for a few hours. Thirst, hunger and cold will do the rest, eh?”

Durell indicated the radio. “We expect help soon.”

“Do you? It is a bluff. Transmission in this area is impossible. Certainly it is useless inside the cave, eh? Otherwise, why should your man take the risk of crawling out here with it?” Rudi smiled, shook his head. He carried a rifle in the crook of his left arm, and his booted feet were spread wide in the loose shale. “No, this is not the time for bluffing, Durell. You are finished. You are caught here like little mice in a big trap. So you should be sensible, eh? We can easily make an equitable arrangement.”

“What do you offer?”

“Your lives,” Rudi said simply.

“Simply on your word?”

“You have no choice. You must accept it.”

“You’ll spare all of us?”

“You will be kept in custody for a short time. I am sure your government will make swift arrangements to repatriate you.”

“From where?”

Rudi smiled coldly. “From China, perhaps. There will be some Chinese troops here by morning. It was all arranged back in Karachi. You worried me for a short time. I thought you might ask the Pakistan government to place me under arrest.”

“For Jane King’s murder?” Durell asked coldly.

Rudi gestured in a small sign of dismissal. “She was of no consequence. A small nuisance, only.”

“And Ernst Bergmann?”

“He served his purpose. A man lives to function in his single element. When his capacity for such function is ended, it is fitting that he be finished, too.”

“Then you’re the man who calls himself the Red Oboe,” Durell said quietly.

“Are you surprised?”

“No. I’ve known it for some time. The only problem was how far to let you go, and how to find your partner.”

“Partner?” Rudi shrugged. “As you see, you let the rope out too long, this rope you hoped I’d hang myself with. I broke free. And it is you and your friends who are in the trap.”

“Your sister Alessa is in the trap with us, remember.” Rudi nodded. “But no harm will come to her. In exchange, I guarantee Miss Standish’s safety.”

Durell smiled harshly. “And what does Sarah think of you now?”

“Her opinion is unimportant. It always was.”

“You’d give up all her money for a cause?”

“I am not a fool, nor a puppet on a string. Would I be satisfied with a woman like Sarah, with a mind like an adding machine, counting her dollars, doling it out in payment for love?” Rudi made a sound of disgust. “I do not delude myself. The money I will be paid for the nickel ore site and Miss Standish—”

“Then you won’t turn her back to the Pakistan authorities?” Durell asked quickly.

“I did not say that.”

“You intend to give her to the Chinese. She’d be worth something to them for international propaganda. You don’t intend to set her free.”

Rudi scowled. “You must take my word for it.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you will all die very soon.”

“Including Alessa?”

“If necessary,” Rudi said coldly.

Durrell stared, wondering if Rudi was only bluffing. But then he thought of Jane King and Ernst Bergmann, and he knew that Rudi did not bluff in matters of his business. “It’s no deal,” Durell said.

“There are two hundred Pakhustis outside. Can you escape?” Rudi challenged. “You will die of cold and thirst and hunger.”

“Would the Chinese that you’ve sent for offer anything better?”

Rudi swung his rifle a little. “You are a stupid man.”

“If you move that gun an inch more,” Durell said, “you’ll die right now, Rudi.”

Rudi hesitated. There was no gun in Durell’s hand. His eyes locked angrily with Durell’s, then he shrugged and lowered his rifle.

“You may feel more sensible in the morning.”

The flare guttered out and darkness fell between them.

HANS sat with Alessa in the farther reaches of the cave, safe from the stray sniping that began the moment Durell returned. One lantern was kept on where its light was shielded by the sheer rock wall that twisted to the left, away from the fissure’s opening. Its dim glow did not reach to the entrance, where K’Ayub’s men waited watchfully on guard through the night.

Durell had explained the situation to the colonel, and K’Ayub accepted the ultimatum with a shrug. He was a soldier. He was prepared to fight and die.

The canteens of water and the rations were put in a place safe from the occasional stray sniping bullet that whined into the cave to worry them and keep them awake. Their supplies were pitifully small. Durell was sure they could stay in the cave for no more than two days before thirst and hunger began to weaken them.

Some of the troopers had gone to sleep, being phlegmatic about their fate. None ventured into the back of the cave to the field of skulls. It was too promising of their own fate, repeating the ancient military disaster that had overtaken Xenos and his troops.

At midnight the harassing sniper fire stopped. But no one ventured into the outer lines to test their safety. Durell sat with his back to the stone wall of the inner cavern, aware of his frustration. There had to be a way out. None of this could have been forseen, but the problem now was to stay alive and escape before the Chinese came. Durell had no illusions as to what would happen then.

He got up and walked to Hans, and Alessa. The big, granitefaced mountain guide was wide awake. Alessa slept, leaning against the massive bend of his arm. Steicher looked at Durell with cool, appraising eyes.

“Hans, will you come with me?” Durell asked quietly.