The Rat Patrol 3 - The Trojan Tank Affair (17 page)

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Scarcely had Moffitt's arms been yanked back and pinned behind him in the room under the palace than he was blinded by the glare of a flashlight held close to his face. A hand roughly swept the burnoose from his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head. Someone laughed.

"Let him go," a voice that was somehow familiar said.

"Lache prise,"
another voice said raspingly in French.

He was released. The light left his face and dropped to the floor. He saw Hitch sprawled at his feet.

"They both are friends," the first voice said. "Let's give that boy there on the ground a hand."

Moffitt knelt and pulled the cloth away from Hitch's face. His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily.

"He's okay, just knocked out," the voice he'd heard before said easily. "We didn't know who was coming. You didn't give the password. They couldn't take a chance."

Moffitt's head whirled. What kind of a cell had they stumbled into where men spoke French and English and a familiar voice called them friends? Hitch squirmed, opened his eyes and sat up rubbing his jaw.

"Who are you?" Moffitt asked, squinting into the light.

"Oh, sorry," the first voice said and laughed. The light swung from Hitch and flashed from one face up into a second. Sergeant Damon and Lieutenant Cobble smiled at Moffitt.

"Damon! Cobble!" Moffitt exclaimed and stood. "Delighted, old chaps, but fancy meeting you. We were informed that you hadn't returned, but what are you doing here? Is this another of your hideouts, part of your operation?"

A candle was lighted and Moffitt looked around the room in the ground in the flickering yellow light. Three dark-eyed and swarthy-faced men in short-sleeved khaki shirts and khaki shorts faced him. They were standing against a masonry wall of buff-colored stone that had a window opening in it. It looked like the wall of some kind of building. The candle was dug into the dirt floor of the underground room and the other three walls were sandy clay. Cobble and Damon were still wearing their helmets and fatigues and their hands and faces were streaked with dirt. All five men were carrying tommy-guns.

Cobble squatted beside Hitch and held a canteen to him. He swallowed and shook his head.

"I'm okay," he said. "What's it all about?"

"Yes," Moffitt said. "What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you that and in a moment I will," Cobble said. "It is fantastic. Jerry clobbered us half an hour after we dropped you off. Shot up the car and took us prisoner. He was pushing us toward his car when these three men sprang out of nowhere and mowed Jerry down. They brought us here for safekeeping until they can slip us out." 

"Who are they?" Moffitt asked, looking at the men again. They were as dark-skinned as Arabs, but apparently were Europeans, dressed in what looked like British desert issue.

"French Foreign Legionnaires," Cobble said. "When Germany overran France and moved into North Africa, they went underground. They kept moving back, ahead of the Nazis. Jacquot, Henri and Paolo. Three saboteurs. Jacquot speaks English."

"But here, what are you doing here?" Moffitt asked, remembering the voices he'd heard upstairs speaking German.

"This seems to be their headquarters," Cobble said. "Not this room. We'd only been here a short time when you dropped in. There is a buried city here that has been partially renovated. A whole series of buildings connected by tunnels. They have one building near the center of the complex where they live. We came in through the bottom of a dry well that's in ruins and looks as if it hadn't been used for centuries. It's outside the walls."

Moffitt nodded. That would explain how Professor Dalmatie had disposed of the earth as he dug. "But why have you come here, to this room? There's a house above—a palace, really—and it's occupied by Germans."

"It's occupied by someone who sympathizes with the Free French," Cobble corrected. "We're going out tonight, or early in the morning. Whoever he is, this person wanted to talk with us. Maybe there's something we can do for him, get for him. Anything he wants he can have, and we'll get it to him. With these three men, he's been conducting his own private war behind the lines."

"Who is this person?" Moffitt asked.

Cobble shrugged and lifted his hands. "Jacquot will not speak of him. He says it is up to him to reveal what he chooses when he comes to speak with us."

"But the people upstairs are Germans," Moffitt insisted, eyes sliding to Jacquot. He did not distrust the Legionnaires. They hardly would kill Germans to rescue the two Americans, only to turn them over to Jerry again. "We heard them talking, Is Jacquot aware the enemy is in the house? Is his collaborator safe?"

"Oui, m'sieu,"
Jacquot said, dark eyes sparkling as he smiled. "There is no need for concern."

"Maybe the man is a German," Cobble said. "He would not be the first to become disenchanted. Whoever he is, we shall find out soon. Now that we have explained ourselves, what are you doing here?"

Moffitt spoke to Jacquot. "I believe the guard at the east gate is working for the Germans. He grew suspicious and reported us."

"Oui, M'sieu,"
Jacquot said, eyes flashing in the candle light. "We know. It is better that we permit him to live a while longer. We know his habits and he is predictable." 

"You are a man of rare intelligence," Moffitt said in French and looked back at Cobble. "We came to Agarawa to get some information. The guard talked to the Jerries and they gave chase. The Arabs took it up and we came here to hide."

"But how did you know where to come,
m'sieu?"
Jacquot asked softly. "I was not aware that anyone but the three of us and one other knew of this buried city."

"I have been here before," Moffitt said, "but your secret is well kept."

"Well, that's the gist," Cobble said. "We wait until our host shows up. I assume you'll be wanting to leave with us." 

"It will come as a shock to our host," Moffitt said with a chuckle. "But you are entirely correct." He turned to Jacquot. "Do you mind if I take your light and look about these diggings while we wait? I've a rather uncommon interest in them,"

Jacquot shook his head. "I am sorry,
m'sieu,
but that is a request I am not in a position to honor. It is not that I do not trust you. It is simply that I am not the one who gives permission."

"Of course, I understand," Moffitt said and looked at Cobble. "How's the shoulder?"

"A little stiff, apparently no infection," he said with a rueful smile. "At least, it doesn't burn. How did you learn we'd run into trouble?"

"We're in contact," Moffitt said, glancing at the window in the wall. He wondered what Professor Dalmatie would think if he knew the use to which his diggings were being put. It was an entirely practical employment of an archaeological discovery and Moffitt thought the old gentleman would approve. The professor had done a great deal of work before fleeing Africa. Nine years before, there had been only a few passages extending from this room.

It was nearly midnight when Jacquot listened intently a moment, then snuffed out the candle. Moffitt heard the tile drop into place on the kitchen floor and a light flashed in the passage.

"Damon," a voice whispered from the tunnel.

"Someone is calling me," Sergeant Damon said. He sounded bewildered.

"It is the password," Jacquot said, laughing. He called, "Pythias."

The light advanced by hops along the floor of the passage. Moffitt watched with increasing interest for the appearance of the Free French sympathizer in this Arabian town behind the German lines. He wondered whether he could be a friend of the Dalmaties who might give him news of them. Jacquot relighted the candle. The flashlight reached the edge of the ledge, beaming quickly around the room. Moffitt saw a pair of small, sandled feet and legs clad in green fatigues swing over the ledge. He had the impression of a slight person dropping lightly to the floor and the beam was in his face again.

"Where did this one come from?" a feminine voice gasped in French.

"The Arabs and Germans were pursuing him and his companion," Jacquot answered. "I do not comprehend but he knew of this place and came here to hide."

"But of course he knew," the woman cried. She turned off the flashlight and stepped near the candle.

As Moffitt's eyes adjusted from the glare of the flashlight to the dim light of the candle, he saw a young woman with short-cropped black hair, soft brown eyes that were wide with wonder, high-boned tanned cheeks and a full red mouth in an oval face.

"Olympe!" He caught his breath for a moment without words. "Olympe, you still are here."

"I am pleased that you remember, Jack," she said softly, standing very still. "I am pleased that when you were in danger, you remembered and came to me for shelter."

"You are old friends?" Jacquot asked.

"Very old friends," Olympe murmured, not taking her eyes from Moffitt. "It was you and your companion who escaped from the Germans and came into the town through the prayer tower. They are searching for you everywhere. You must leave with the other two this morning. Very soon. I shall talk with you in a moment, Jack. We have much to say. But first, listen carefully to my instructions." Sergeant Damon and Lieutenant Cobble had been watching in amazement.

"This is the collaborator?" Lieutenant Cobble asked. "And she is a friend of yours?"

"Yes," Moffitt said, still stunned. "Now she will explain how we shall escape."

Olympe smiled tremulously and laid her hand on Moffitt's arm. He thought it was shaking but she pulled it quickly away.

"You will leave two hours from now, at two o'clock," she said in English, speaking to all of them. "A caravan arrived several hours ago outside the eastern gate. It is carrying bags of cotton, two to each camel. Jacquot, Henri and Paolo will take you out the well and conceal you in the bags. They will replace the drivers of the camels who accompanied the train this far. I own the caravan and it has a safe conduct pass from the German commander in this area. The caravan is destined for El Agheila but it will be diverted to Bir-el-Alam when it passes from the German-held territory. I trust that the four of you will have no difficulty in establishing the loyalties of Jacquot, Henri and Paolo with your commanders. They will not return to Agarawa and would like to fight with you."

"We'll take care of them, miss," Lieutenant Cobble said heartily. "And our warmest thanks to you. Will you remain here? Is there anything we can do?"

Olympe shook her head; a little sadly, Moffitt thought.

"I must remain," she said. She lifted her hand toward the window wall. "This buried city was my father's lifetime work. I must protect it and wait for the day when the war will be over and a friendly government will wish to preserve its priceless heritage. As for sending me anything—" She shook her head. "A transmitter? Explosives? Equipment for guerilla warfare? They would be dangerous to what usefulness I have. If the opportunity presents itself again, as it did a year ago when Jacquot and his friends appealed for sanctuary, I shall offer it. In the meantime, I am here, a resident of long standing and a scholar, above suspicion. You may have need of me another time."

Moffitt blinked and swallowed. He was very proud of Olympe.

"One thing," he said. "My friend Hitch and I are in the neighborhood, temporarily. We have a jeep hidden two miles beyond the town. We'll slip out the well with the others and be on our way afoot."

"You will leave with the caravan," Olympe said firmly. "The Germans will have patrols all about the city. When you reach your car, the caravan will form a double line of camels and you will drive between them. Do you have far to go?"

"About fifteen miles," Moffitt said. "But we can't endanger the safety of the caravan."

"You should reach your destination while it still is dark," Olympe said. "Between the camels, you will not be observed." She stepped to the three Legionnaires.
"Au revoir, ma petits,"
she said warmly, clasping each by hand and kissing him lightly on his lips. To Jacquot, she said in French, "Take the others with you now. Be certain everything is in readiness. I must have a few moments with my dear friend. I shall bring him to you when the hour of departure is near."

"M'amselle,"
Jacquot said huskily, inclining his body slightly from the waist. He directed the beam of his flashlight into the window opening and said in English, "Come along, the rest of you.
M'sieu
will join us directly."

Olympe stood silently beside Moffitt as the six men, with Jacquot in the lead, disappeared over the window sill. When the last was gone, Moffitt faced Olympe. His heart was racing and he was filled with tenderness.

"Olympe," he said and took her hands.

Her face went soft and her eyes filled with tears. "Jack, Jack," she said with a little sob and threw her arms around rim, pressing her cheek against his chest.

They clung to each other a moment, then Jack lifted her chin with his fingers and bent to softly kiss her. She held his mouth with hers and it was filled with hunger and fire.

"Oh Jack," she said with an almost hysterical little laugh. She pushed away, tossing her head. "I just can't believe it's you. But we don't have to embrace in the cellar. Come upstairs where it's comfortable. You needn't leave for more than an hour. At least we shall have that much."

It was a very strange thing when you encountered a love of your childhood, he thought, crawling after Olympe through the tunnel toward the kitchen. When the long-ago parting had been tender and your memories sweet, it was easy to reawaken the emotion that once had coursed wildly, enflaming your body and mind. At this moment, he could swear he was in love with Olympe.

She led him from the moonlighted kitchen up service stairs at the back of the palace to an Oriental but feminine boudoir that overlooked the courtyard. She pulled white damask drapes across a vaulted window and lighted a graceful brass lamp on a low marble table. The lamp burned softly with an exotic fragrance. A rich Turkish rug of scarlet and crimson covered the tiles and bright pillows were piled by a divan of yellow striped satin. A brass cigarette box and ashtrays were on an onyx table to the side.