VII
Driving into town over the dusty, pocked road, Homer gave the newcomersto his group more background on the care and control of the genus _mob_.He was obviously speaking through considerable experience.
"Using these quarterstaffs brings to mind some of the other supposedlyinnoxious devices used by police authorities in controlling unrulydemonstrations," he said. "Some of them are beauties. For instance, Iwas in Tangier when the Moroccans put on their revolution against theFrench and for the return of the Sultan. The rumor went through townthat the mob was going to storm the French Consulate the next day.During the night, the French brought in elements of the Foreign Legionand entrenched the consulate grounds. But their commander had anotherproblem. Journalists were all over town and so were tourists. Tangierwas still supposedly an international zone and the French were in noposition to slaughter the citizens. So they brought in some specialequipment. One item was a vehicle that looked quite a bit like agasoline truck, but was filled with water and armored against throwncobblestones and such. On the roof of the cabin was what lookedsomething like a fifty caliber but which was actually a hose which shotwater at terrific pressure. When the mob came, the French unlimberedthis vehicle and all the journalists could say was that the mob wasdispersed by squirting water on it, which doesn't sound too bad afterall."
Isobel said, "Well, certainly that's preferable to firing on them."
Homer looked at her oddly. "Possibly. However, I was standing next tothe Moorish boy who was cut entirely in half by the pressure spray ofwater."
The expression on the girl's face sickened.
Homer said, "They had another interesting device for dispersing mobs. Itwas a noise bomb. The French set off several."
"A noise bomb?" Cliff said. "I don't get it."
"They make a tremendous noise, but do nothing else. However, members ofthe mob who aren't really too interested in the whole thing--just sortof along for the fun--figure that things are getting earnest and thatthe troops are shelling them. So they remember some business they hadelsewhere and take off."
Isobel said suddenly, "You like this sort of work, don't you?"
Elmer Allen grunted bitterly.
"No," Homer Crawford said flatly. "I don't. But I like the goal."
"And the end justifies the means?"
Homer Crawford said slowly, "I've never answered that to my ownsatisfaction. But I'll say this. I've never met a person, no matter howidealistic, no matter how much he played lip service to the contentionthat the ends do not justify the means, who did not himself use themeans he found available to reach the ends he believed correct. It seemsto be a matter of each man feeling the teaching applies to everyoneelse, but that he is free to utilize any means to achieve his own nobleends."
"Man, all that jazz is too much for me," Abe said.
They were entering the outskirts of Mopti. Small groups of obviouslyexcited Africans of various tribal groups, were heading for the centerof town.
"Abe, Jake," Crawford said. "We'll drop you here. Mingle around. We'llhold the big meeting in front of the Great Mosque in an hour or so."
"Crazy," Abe said, dropping off the back of the truck which KennyBallalou, who was driving, brought almost to a complete stop. The olderJake followed him.
The rest went on a quarter of a mile and dropped Bey and Cliff.
Homer said to Kenny, "Park the truck somewhere near the spice market.Preferably inside some building, if you can. For all we know, they'realready turning over vehicles and burning them."
Crawford and Isobel dropped off near the pottery market, on the banks ofthe Niger. The milling throngs here were largely women. Elements of halfa dozen tribes and races were represented.
Homer Crawford stood a moment. He ran a hand back over his short hairand looked at her. "I don't know," he muttered. "Now I'm sorry webrought you along." He leaned on his staff and looked at her worriedly."You're not very ... ah, husky, are you?"
She laughed at him. "Get about your business, sir knight. I spent nearlytwo weeks living with these people once. I know dozens of them by name.Watch this cat operate, as Abe would say."
She darted to one of the over-turned pirogues which had been dragged upon the bank from the river, and climbed atop it. She held her hands highand began a stream of what was gibberish to Crawford who didn'tunderstand Wolof, the Senegalese lingua franca. Some elements of thecrowd began drifting in her direction. She spoke for a few moments, theonly words the surprised Homer Crawford could make out were _El Hassan_.And she used them often.
She switched suddenly to Arabic, and he could follow her now. The driftof her talk was that word had come through that El Hassan was to make agreat announcement in the near future and that meanwhile all his peoplewere to await his word. But that there was to be a great meeting beforethe Mosque within the hour.
She switched again to Songhoi and repeated substantially what she'd saidbefore. By now she had every woman hanging on her words.
A man on the outskirts of the gathering called out in high irritation,"But what of the storming of the administration buildings? Our leadershave proclaimed the storming of the reactionaries!"
Crawford, leaning heavily on the pilgrim staff, drifted over to theother. "Quiet, O young one," he said. "I wish to listen to the words ofthe girl who tells of the teachings of the great El Hassan."
The other turned angrily on him. "Be silent thyself, old man!" He raiseda hand as though to cuff the American.
Homer Crawford neatly rapped him on the right shin bone with hisquarterstaff to the other's intense agony. The women who witnessed thebrief spat dissolved in laughter at the plight of the younger man. HomerCrawford drifted away again before the heckler recovered.
He let Isobel handle the bulk of the reverse-rabble rousing. His bit wasto come later, and as yet he didn't want to reveal himself to thethrongs.
* * * * *
They went from one gathering place of women to another. To the spicemarket, to the fish and meat market, to the bathing and launderinglocations along the river. And everywhere they found animated groups ofwomen, Isobel went into her speech.
At one point, while Homer stood idly in the crowd, feeling its temperand the extent to which the girl was dominating them, he felt someonepress next to him.
A voice said, "What is the plan of operation, Yank?"
Homer Crawford's eyebrows went up and he shot a quick glance at theother. It was Rex Donaldson of the Commonwealth African Department. Theoperative who worked as the witchman, Dolo Anah. Crawford was glad tosee him. This was Donaldson's area of operations, the man must have gothere almost as soon as Crawford's team, when he had heard of thetrouble.
Crawford said in English, "They've been gathering for an outbreak ofviolence, evidently directed at the Reunited Nations projectsadministration buildings. I've seen a few banners calling for El Hassanto come to power, Africa for the Africans, that sort of thing."
The small Bahamian snorted. "You chaps certainly started something withthis El Hassan farce. What are your immediate plans? How can Ico-operate with you?"
A teenage boy who had been heckling Isobel, stooped now to pick up somedried cow dung. Almost absently, Crawford put his staff between theother's legs and tripped him up, when the lad sprawled on his face theAmerican rapped him smartly on the head.
Crawford said, "Thanks a lot, we can use you, especially since you speakDogon, I don't think any of my group does. We're going to hold a bigmeeting in front of the square and give them a long monotonous talk,saying little but sounding as though we're promising a great deal. Whenwe've taken most of the steam out of them, we'll locate the ringleadersand have a big indoor meeting. My boys will be spotted throughout thegang. They'll nominate me to be spokesman, and nominate each other to bemy committee and we'll be sent to find El Hassan and urge him to takepower. That should keep them quiet for a while. At least long enough forheadquarters in Dakar to decide what to do."
"Good Heavens," Donaldson said i
n admiration. "You Yanks are certainlygood at this sort of thing."
"Takes practice," Homer Crawford said. "If you want to help, ferret outthe groups who speak Dogon and give them the word."
Out of a sidestreet came running Abe Baker at the head of possibly twoor three hundred arm waving, shouting, stick brandishing Africans. A fewof them had banners which were being waved in such confusion that nobodycould read the words inscribed. Most of them seemed to be younger men,even teen-agers.
"Good Heavens," Donaldson said again.
At first snap opinion, Crawford thought his assistant was being pursuedand started forward to the hopeless rescue, but then he realized thatAbe was heading the mob. Waving his staff, the New Yorker was shoutingslogans, most of which had something to do with "El Hassan" butotherwise were difficult to make out.
The small mob charged out of the street and through the square, stillshouting. Abe began to drop back into the ranks, and then to the edge ofthe charging, gesticulating crowd. Already, though, some of them seemedto be slowing up, even stopping and drifting away, puzzlement orfrustration on their faces.
Those who were still at excitement's peak, charged up another street atthe other side of the square.
In a few moments, Abe Baker came up to them, breathing hard and wipingsweat from his forehead. He grinned wryly. "Man, those cats are way out.This is really Endsville." He looked up at where Isobel was haranguingher own crowd, which hadn't been fazed by the men who'd charged throughthe square going nowhere. "Look at old Isobel up there. Man, this wholetown's like a combination of Hyde Park and Union Square. You oughta hearold Jake making with a speech."
"What just happened?" Homer asked, motioning with his head to where thelast elements of the mob Abe'd been leading were disappearing down adead-end street.
"Ah, nothing," Abe said, still watching Isobel and grinning at her."Those cats were the nucleus of a bunch wanted to start some action.Burn a few cars, raid the library, that sort of jazz. So I took over fora while, led them up one street and down the other. I feel like I justbeen star at a track meet."
"Good Heavens," Donaldson said still again.
"They're all scattered around now," Abe explained to him. "Either thator their tongues are hanging out to the point they'll have to take fiveto have a beer. They're finished for a while."
Isobel finished her little talk and joined them. "What gives now?" sheasked.
Rex Donaldson said, "I'd like to stay around and watch you chapsoperate. It's fascinating. However, I'd better get over to the park.That's probably where the greater number of the Dogon will be." Hegrumbled sourly, "I'll roast those blokes with a half dozen bits ofmagic and send them all back to Sangha. It'll be donkey's years beforethey ever show face around here again." He left them.
Homer Crawford looked after him. "Good man," he said.
Abe had about caught his breath. "What gives now, man?" he said. "Iought to get back to Jake. He's all alone up near the mosque."
"It's about time all of us got over there," Crawford said. He looked atIsobel as they walked. "How does it feel being a sort of reverse agentprovocateur?"
Her forehead was wrinkled, characteristically. "I suppose it has to bedone, but frankly, I'm not too sure just what we are doing. Here we goabout pushing these supposed teachings of El Hassan and when we're takenup by the people and they actually attempt to accomplish what we taughtthem, we draw in on the reins."
"Man, you're right," Abe said unhappily. He looked at his chief. "What'dyou say, Homer?"
"Of course she's right," Crawford growled. "It's just premature, is all.There's no program, no plan of action. If there was one, this thing herein Mopti might be the spark that united all North Africa. As it is, wehave to put the damper on it until there is a definite program." Headded sourly, "I'm just wondering if the Reunited Nations is theorganization that can come up with one. And, if it isn't, where is thereone?"
The mosque loomed up before them. The square before it was jam packedwith milling Africans.
"Great guns," Isobel snorted, "there're more people here than the wholepopulation of Mopti. Where'd they all come from?"
"They've been filtering in from the country," Crawford said.
"Well, we'll filter 'em back," Abe promised.
* * * * *
They spotted a ruckus and could see Elmer Allen in the middle of it, hisquarterstaff flailing.
"On the double," Homer bit out, and he and Abe broke into a trot for thepoint of conflict. The idea was to get this sort of thing over asquickly as possible before it had a chance to spread.
They arrived too late. Elmer was leaning on his staff, as though needingit for support, and explaining mildly to two men who evidently werefriends of a third who was stretched out on the ground, dead to theworld and with a nasty lump on his shaven head.
Homer came up and said to Elmer, in Songhai, "What has transpired, OHoly One?" He made a sign of obeisance to the Jamaican.
The two Africans were taken aback by the term of address. They wereunprepared to continue further debate, not to speak of physical action,against a holy man.
Elmer said with dignity, "He spoke against El Hassan, our great leader."
For a moment the two Africans seemed to be willing to deny that, but AbeBaker took up the cue and turned to the crowd that was beginning togather. He held his hands out, palms upward questioningly, "And whyshould these young men beset a Holy One whose only crime is to love ElHassan?"
The crowd began to murmur and the two hurriedly picked up their fallencompanion and took off with him.
Homer said in English, "What really happened?"
"Oh, this chap was one of the hot heads," Elmer explained. "Wanted someimmediate action. I gave it to him."
Abe chuckled, "Holy One, yet."
Spotted through the square, holding forth to various gatherings of themob were Jake Armstrong, Kenny Ballalou and Cliff Jackson. Even as HomerCrawford sized up the situation and the temper of the throngs oftribesmen, Bey entered the square from the far side at the head of twoor three thousand more, most of whom were already beginning to lookbored to death from talk, talk, talk.
Isobel came up and looked questioningly at Homer Crawford.
He said, "Abe, get the truck and drive it up before the entrance to themosque. We'll speak from that. Isobel can open the hoe down, get thecrowd over and then introduce me."
Abe left and Crawford said to Isobel, "Introduce me as Omar ben Crawf,the great friend and assistant of El Hassan. Build it up."
"Right," she said.
Crawford said, "Elmer first round up the boys and get them spottedthrough the audience. You're the cheerleaders and also the sergeants atarms, of course. Nail the hecklers quickly, before they can getorganized among themselves. In short, the standard deal." He thought amoment. "And see about getting a hall where we can hold a meeting of theringleaders, those are the ones we're going to have to cool out."
"Wizard," Elmer said and was gone on his mission.
Isobel and Homer stood for a moment, waiting for Abe and the truck.
She said, "You seem to have this all down pat."
"It's routine," he said absently. "The brain of a mob is no larger thanthat of its minimum member. Any disciplined group, almost no matter howsmall can model it to order."
"Just in case we don't have the opportunity to get together again, whathappens at the hall meeting of ringleaders? What do Jake, Cliff and Ido?"
"What comes naturally," Homer said. "We'll elect each other to the mostimportant positions. But everybody else that seems to have anything atall on the ball will be elected to some committee or other. Give themjobs compiling reports to El Hassan or something. Keep them busy. GiveReunited Nations headquarters in Dakar time to come up with something."
She said worriedly, "Suppose some of these ringleaders are capable,aggressive types and won't stand for us getting all the importantpositions?"
Crawford grunted. "We're _more_ aggressive and more capable. Le
t my teamhandle that. One of the boys will jump up and accuse the guy of being aspy and an enemy of El Hassan, and one of the other boys will bear himout, and a couple of others will hustle him out of the hall." Homeryawned. "It's all routine, Isobel."
Abe was driving up the truck.
Crawford said, "O.K., let's go, gal."
"Roger," she said, climbing first into the back of the vehicle and thenup onto the roof of the cab.
Isobel held her hands high above her head and in the cab Abe bore downon the horn for a long moment.
Isobel shrilled, "Hear what the messenger from El Hassan has come totell us! Hear the friend and devoted follower of El Hassan!"
At the same time, Jake, Kenny, and Cliff discontinued their ownharangues and themselves headed for the new speaker.
* * * * *
They stayed for three days and had it well wrapped up in that time. Thetribesmen, bored when the excitement fell away and it became obviousthat there were to be no further riots, and certainly no violence,drifted back to their villages. The city dwellers returned to theroutine of daily existence. And the police, who had mysteriouslydisappeared from the streets at the height of the demonstrations, nowmagically reappeared and began asserting their authority somewhattruculently.
At the hall meetings, mighty slogans were drafted and endless committeesformed. The more articulate, the more educated and able of thedemonstrators were marked out for future reference, but for the momentgiven meaningless tasks to keep them busy and out of trouble.
On the fourth day, Homer Crawford received orders to proceed to Dakar,leaving the rest of the team behind to keep an eye on the situation.
Abe groaned, "There's luck for you. Dakar, nearest thing to a good oldsin city in a thousand miles. And who gets to go? Old sour puss, here.Got no more interest in the hot spots--"
Homer said, "You can come along, Abe."
Kenny Ballalou said, "Orders were only you, Homer."
Crawford growled, "Yes, but I have a suspicion I'm being called on thecarpet for one of our recent escapades and I want backing if I need it."He added, "Besides, nothing is going to happen here."
"Crazy man," Abe said appreciatively.
Jake said, "We three were planning to head for Dakar today ourselves.Isobel, in particular, is exhausted and needs a prolonged rest beforegoing out among the natives any more. You might as well continue to letus supply your transportation."
"Fine," Homer told him. "Come on Abe, let's get our things together."
"What do we do while you chaps are gone?" Elmer Allen said sourly. "Iwouldn't mind a period in a city myself."
"Read a book, man," Abe told him. "Improve your mind."
"I've read a book," Elmer said glumly. "Any other ideas?"
* * * * *
Dakar is a big, bustling, prosperous and modern city shockingly set downin the middle of the poverty that is Africa. It should be, by itsappearance, on the French Riviera, on the California coast, or possiblythat of Florida, but it isn't. It's in Senegal, in the area once knownas French West Africa.
Their aircraft swept in and landed at the busy airport.
They were assigned an African Development Project air-cushion car anddrove into the city proper.
Dakar boasts some of the few skyscrapers in all Africa. The ReunitedNations occupied one of these in its entirety. Dakar was the center ofactivities for the whole Western Sahara and down into the Sudan. Acrossthe street from its offices, a street still named Rue des Resistance inspite of the fact that the French were long gone, was the HotelJuan-les-Pins.
Crawford and Abe Baker had radioed ahead and accommodations were readyfor them. Their western clothing and other gear had been brought up fromstorage in the cellar.
At the desk, the clerk didn't blink at the Tuareg costume the two stillwore. This was commonplace. He probably wouldn't have blinked had Isobelarrived in the costume of the Dogon. "Your suite is ready, Dr.Crawford," he said.
The manager came up and shook hands with an old customer and HomerCrawford introduced him to Isobel, Jake and Cliff, requesting he do hisbest for them. He and Abe then made their excuses and headed for theparadise of hot water, towels, western drink and the other amenities ofcivilization.
On the way up in the elevator, Abe said happily, "Man, I can just_taste_ that bath I'm going to take. Crazy!"
"Personally," Crawford said, trying to reflect some of the other'stypically lighthearted enthusiasm, "I have in mind a few belts out of abottle of stone-age cognac, then a steak yea big and a flock of Frenchfries, followed by vanilla ice cream."
Abe's eyes went round. "Man, you mean we can't get a good dish of couscous in this town?"
"Cous cous," Crawford said in agony.
Abe made his voice so soulful. "With a good dollop of rancid camelbutter right on top."
Homer laughed as they reached their floor and started for the suite."You make it sound so good, I almost believe you." Inside he said,"Dibbers on the first bath. How about phoning down for a bottle ofNapoleon and some soda and ice? When it comes, just mix me one and bringit in, that hand you see emerging from the soap bubbles in that tub,will be mine."
"I hear and obey, O Bwana!" Abe said in a servile tone.
By the time they'd cleaned up and had eaten an enormous western stylemeal in the dining room of the Juan-les-Pins, it was well past the hourwhen they could have made contact with their Reunited Nations superiors.They had a couple of cognacs in the bar, then, whistling happily, AbeBaker went out on the town.
Homer Crawford looked up Isobel, Jake and Cliff who had, sure enough,found accommodations in the same hotel.
Isobel stepped back in mock surprise when she saw Crawford in westerngarb. "Heavens to Betsy," she said. "The man is absolutely extinguishedin a double-breasted charcoal gray."
He tried a scowl and couldn't manage it. "The word is _distinguished_,not extinguished," he said. He looked down at the suit, critically. "Youknow, I feel uncomfortable. I wonder if I'll be able to sit down in achair instead of squatting." He looked at her own evening frock. "Wow,"he said.
Cliff Jackson said menacingly, "None of that stuff, Crawford. Isobel hasalready been asked for, let's have no wolfing around."
Isobel said tartly, "Asked for but she didn't answer the summons." Shetook Homer by the arm. "And I just adore extinguish--oops, I meandistinguished looking men."
They trooped laughingly into the hotel cocktail lounge.
The time passed pleasantly. Jake and Cliff were good men in a fieldclose to Homer Crawford's heart. Isobel was possibly the most attractivewoman he'd ever met. They discussed in detail each other's work and allhad stories of wonder to describe.
Crawford wondered vaguely if there was ever going to be a time,in this life of his, for a woman and all that one usually connectswith womanhood. What was it Elmer Allen had said at the Timbuktumeeting? "... _most of us will be kept busy the rest of our lives atthis._"
In his present state of mind, it didn't seem too desirable a prospect.But there was no way out for such as Homer Crawford. What had CliffJackson said at the same meeting? "_We do what we must do._" Which, cometo think of it, didn't jibe too well with Cliff's claim at Mopti to bein it solely for the job. Probably the man disguised his basic idealismunder a cloak of cynicism; if so, he wouldn't be the first.
They said their goodnights early. All of them were used to Sahara hours.Up at dawn, to bed shortly after sunset; the desert has little fuel towaste on illumination.
In the suite again, Homer Crawford noted that Abe hadn't returned asyet. He snorted deprecation. The younger man would probably be out untildawn. Dakar had much to offer in the way of civilization's fleshpots.
He took up the bottle of cognac and poured himself a healthy shot,wishing that he'd remembered to pick up a paperback at the hotel'snewsstand before coming to bed.
He swirled the expensive brandy in the glass and brought it to his noseto savor the bouquet.
But fifteen-
year-old brandy from the cognac district of France shouldnot boast a bouquet involving elements of bitter almonds. With anautomatic startled gesture, Crawford jerked his face away from theglass.
He scowled down at it for a long moment, then took up the bottle andsniffed it. He wondered how a would-be murderer went about getting holdof cyanide in Dakar.
Homer Crawford phoned the desk and got the manager. Somebody had been inthe suite during his absence. Was there any way of checking?
He didn't expect satisfaction and didn't receive any. The manager, afterfinding that nothing seemed to be missing, seemed to think that perhapsDr. Crawford had made a mistake. Homer didn't bother to tell him aboutthe poisoned brandy. He hung up, took the bottle into the bathroom andpoured it away.
In the way of precautions, he checked the windows to see if there wereany possibilities of entrance by an intruder, locked the door securely,put his handgun beneath his pillow and fell off to sleep. When and ifAbe returned, he could bang on the door.
* * * * *
In the morning, clad in American business suits and frankly feeling atrifle uncomfortable in them, Homer Crawford and Abraham Baker presentedthemselves at the offices of the African Development Project, SaharaDivision, of the Reunited Nations. Uncharacteristically, there was nowaiting in anterooms, no dealing with subordinates. Dr. Crawford and hislieutenant were ushered directly to the office of Sven Zetterberg.
Upon their entrance the Swede came to his feet, shook hands abruptlywith both of them and sat down again. He scowled at Abe and said toHomer in excellent English, "It was requested that your team remain inMopti." Then he added, "Sit down, gentlemen."
They took chairs. Crawford said mildly, "Mr. Baker is my right-hand man.I assume he'd take over the team if anything happened to me." He addeddryly, "Besides, there were a few things he felt he had to do abouttown."
Abe cleared his throat but remained silent.
Zetterberg continued to frown but evidently for a different reason now.He said, "There have been more complaints about your ... ah ... cavaliertactics."
Homer looked at him but said nothing.
Zetterberg said in irritation, "It becomes necessary to warn you almostevery time you come in contact with this office, Dr. Crawford."
Homer said evenly, "My team and I work in the field Dr. Zetterberg. Wehave to think on our feet and usually come to decisions in splitseconds. Sometimes our lives are at stake. We do what we think bestunder the conditions. At any time your office feels my efforts aremisdirected, my resignation is available."
The Swede cleared his throat. "The Arab Union has made a full complaintin the Reunited Nations of a group of our men massacring thirty-five oftheir troopers."
Homer said, "They were well into the Ahaggar with a convoy of modernweapons, obviously meant for adherents of theirs. Given the opportunity,the Arab Union would take over North Africa."
"This is no reason to butcher thirty-five men."
"We were fired upon first," Crawford said.
"That is not the way they tell it. They claim you ambushed them."
Abe put in innocently, "How would the Arab Union know? We didn't leaveany survivors."
Zetterberg glared at him. "It is not easy, Mr. Baker, for we who do thepaper work involved in this operation, to account for the activities ofyou hair-trigger men in the field."
"We appreciate your difficulties," Homer said evenly. "But we can onlycontinue to do what we think best on being confronted with anemergency."
The Swede drummed his fingers on the desk top. "Perhaps I should remindyou that the policy of this project is to encourage amalgamation of thepeoples of the area. Possibly, the Arab Union will prove to be the bestforce to accomplish such a union."
Abe grunted.
Homer Crawford was shaking his head. "You don't believe that Dr.Zetterberg, and I doubt if there are many non-Moslems who do. Mohammedsprung out of the deserts and his religion is one based on thesurroundings, both physical and socio-economic."
Zetterberg grumbled, argumentatively, though his voice lackedconviction, "So did its two sister religions, Judaism and Christianity."
Crawford waggled a finger negatively. "Both of them adapted to changingtimes, with considerable success. Islam has remained the same and in allthe world there is not one example of a highly developed socio-economicsystem in a Moslem country. The reason is that in your country, andmine, and in the other advanced countries of the West, we pay lipservice to our religions, but we don't let them interfere with our dayby day life. But the Moslem, like the rapidly disappearingultra-orthodox Jews, lives his religion every day and by the rules setdown by the Prophet fifteen centuries ago. Everything a Moslem does fromthe moment he gets up in the morning is all mapped out in the Koran.What fingers of the hand to eat with, what hand to break bread with--andso on and so forth. It can get ludicrous. You should see the bathroom ofa wealthy Moslem in some modern city such as Tangier. Mohammed neverdreamed of such institutions as toilet paper. His followers still obeythe rules he set down as an alternative."
"What's your point?"
"That North Africa cannot be united under the banner of Islam if she isgoing to progress rapidly. If it ever unites, it will be in spite oflocal religions--Islam and pagan as well; they hold up the wheels ofprogress."
Zetterberg stared at him. The truth of the matter was that he agreedwith the American and they both knew it.
He said, "This matter of physically assaulting and then arresting thechieftain"--he looked down at a paper on his desk--"of the OuledTouameur clan of the Chaambra confederation, Abd-el-Kader. From yourreport, the man was evidently attempting to unify the tribes."
Crawford was shaking his head impatiently. "No. He didn't havethe ... dream. He was a raider, a racketeer, not a leader of purposefulmen. Perhaps it's true that these people need a hero to act as a symbolfor them, but he can't be such as Abd-el-Kader."
"I suppose you're right," the Swede said grudgingly. "See here, have youheard reports of a group of Cubans, in the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan to helpwith the new sugar refining there, being attacked?"
The eyes of both Crawford and Baker narrowed. There'd been talk aboutthis at Timbuktu. "Only a few rumors," Crawford said.
The Swede drummed his desk with his nervous fingers. "The rumors arecorrect. The whole group was either killed or wounded." He saidsuddenly, "You had nothing to do with this, I suppose?"
Crawford held his palms up, in surprise, "My team has never been withina thousand miles of Khartoum."
Zetterberg said, "See here, we suspect the Cubans might have supportedSoviet Complex viewpoints."
Crawford shrugged, "I know nothing about them at all."
Zetterberg said, "Do you think this might be the work of El Hassan andhis followers?"
Abe started to chuckle something, but Homer shook his head slightly inwarning and said, "I don't know."
"How did that affair in Mopti turn out, these riots in favor of ElHassan?"
Homer Crawford shrugged. "Routine. Must have been as many as tenthousand of them at one point. We used standard tactics in gainingcontrol and then dispersing them. I'll have a complete written report toyou before the day is out."
Zetterberg said, "You've heard about this El Hassan before?"
"Quite a bit."
"From the rumors that have come into this office, he backs neither Eastnor West in international politics. He also seems to agree with yoursummation of the Islamic problem. He teaches separation of Church andState."
"They're the same thing in Moslem countries," Abe muttered.
Zetterberg tossed his bombshell out of a clear sky. "Dr. Crawford," hesnapped, "in spite of the warnings we've had to issue to you repeatedly,you are admittedly our best man in the field. We're giving you a newassignment. Find this El Hassan and bring him here!"
Zetterberg leaned forward, an expression of somewhat anxious sincerityin his whole demeanor.
VIII
Abe Baker choked, and then suddenly
laughed.
Sven Zetterberg stared at him. "What's so funny?"
"Well, nothing," Abe admitted. He looked to Homer Crawford.
Crawford said to the Swede carefully, "Why?"
Zetterberg said impatiently, "Isn't it obvious, after the conversationwe've had here? Possibly this El Hassan is the man we're looking for.Perhaps this is the force that will bind North Africa together. Thusfar, all we've heard about him has been rumor. We don't seem to be ableto find anyone who has seen him, nor is the exact strength of hisfollowing known. We'd like to confer with him, before he gets anylarger."
Crawford said carefully, "It's hard to track down a rumor."
"That's why we give the assignment to our best team in the field," theSwede told him. "You've got a roving commission. Find El Hassan andbring him here to Dakar."
Abe grinned and said, "Suppose he doesn't want to come?"
"Use any methods you find necessary. If you need more manpower, let usknow. But we must talk to El Hassan."
Homer said, still watching his words, "Why the urgency?"
The Reunited Nations official looked at him for a long moment, as thoughdebating whether to let him in on higher policy. "Because, frankly, Dr.Crawford, the elements which first went together to produce the AfricanDevelopment Project, are, shall we say, becoming somewhat unstuck."
"The glue was never too strong," Abe muttered.
Zetterberg nodded. "The attempt to find competent, intelligent men towork for the project, who were at the same time altruistic andunaffected by personal or national interests, has always been adifficult one. If you don't mind my saying so, we Scandinavians,particularly those not affiliated with NATO come closest to filling thebill. We have no designs on Africa. It is unfortunate that we havepractically no Negro citizens who could do field work."
"Are you suggesting other countries have designs on Africa?" Homer said.
For the first time the Swede laughed. A short, choppy laugh. "Are yousuggesting they haven't? What was that convoy of the Arab Union bringinginto the Sahara? Guns, with which to forward their cause of taking overall North Africa. What were those Cubans doing in Sudan, that someoneelse felt it necessary to assassinate them? What is the program of theSoviet Complex as it applies to this area, and how does it differ fromthat of the United States? And how do the ultimate programs of theBritish Commonwealth and the French Community differ from each other andfrom both the United States and Russia?"
"That's why we have a Reunited Nations," Crawford said calmly.
"Theoretically, yes. But it is coming apart at the seams. I sometimeswonder if an organization composed of a membership each with its ownselfish needs can ever really unite in an altruistic task. Remember theearly days when the Congo was first given her freedom? Supposedly theUnited Nations went in to help. Actually, each element in the UnitedNations had its own irons in the fire, and usually their desiresdiffered."
The Swede shrugged hugely. "I don't know, but I am about convinced, andso are a good many other officers of this project, that unless we soonfind a competent leader to act as a symbol around which all NorthAfricans can unite, find such a man and back him, that all our work willcrumble in this area under pressure from outside. That's why we want ElHassan."
Homer Crawford came to his feet, his face in a scowl. "I'll let you knowby tomorrow, if I can take the assignment," he said.
"Why tomorrow?" the Swede demanded.
"There are some ramifications I have to consider."
"Very well," the Swede said stiffly. He came to his own feet and shookhands with them again. "Oh, there's just one other thing. Thisspontaneous meeting you held in Timbuktu with elements from variousother organizations. How did it come out?"
Crawford was wary. "Very little result, actually."
Zetterberg chuckled. "As I expected. However, we would appreciate it,doctor, if you and your team would refrain from such activities in thefuture. You are, after all, hired by the Reunited Nations and owe it allyour time and allegiance. We have no desire to see you fritter away thistime with religious fanatics and other crackpot groups."
"I see," Crawford said.
The other laughed cheerfully. "I'm sure you do, Dr. Crawford. A word tothe wise."
* * * * *
They remained silent on the way back to the hotel.
In the lobby they ran into Isobel Cunningham.
Homer Crawford looked at her thoughtfully. He said, "We've got somethinking to do and some ideas to bat back and forth. I value youropinion and experience, Isobel, could you come up to the suite and sitin?"
She tilted her head, looked at him from the side of her eyes. "Somethingbig has happened, hasn't it?"
"I suppose so. I don't know. We've got to make some decisions."
"Come on Isobel," Abe said. "You can give us the feminine viewpoint andall that jazz."
They started for the elevator and Isobel said to Abe, "If you'd just beconsistent with that pseudo-beatnik chatter of yours, I wouldn't mind.But half the time you talk like an English lit major when you forget toput on your act."
"Man," Abe said to her, "maybe I was wrong inviting you to sit in onthis bull session. I can see you're in a bad mood."
In the living room of the suite, Isobel took an easy-chair and Abe threwhimself full length on his back on a couch. Homer Crawford paced thefloor.
"Well?" Isobel said.
Crawford said abruptly, "Somebody tried to poison me last night. Gotinto this room somehow and put cyanide in a bottle of cognac Abe and Iwere drinking out of earlier in the evening."
Isobel stared at him. Her eyes went from him to Abe and back."But ... but, why?"
Crawford ran his hand back over his wiry hair in puzzlement. "I ... Idon't know. That's what's driving me batty. I can't figure out whyanybody would want to kill me."
"I can," Abe said bluntly. "And that interview we just had with SvenZetterberg just bears me out."
"Zetterberg," Isobel said, surprised. "Is he in Africa?"
Crawford nodded to her question but his eyes were on Abe.
Abe put his hands behind his head and said to the ceiling, "Zetterbergjust gave Homer's team the assignment of bringing in El Hassan."
"El Hassan? But you boys told us all in Timbuktu that there was no ElHassan. You invented him and then the rest of us, more or lessspontaneously, though unknowingly, took up the falsification and spreadyour work."
"That's right," Crawford said, still looking at Abe.
"But didn't you tell Sven Zetterberg?" Isobel demanded. "He's too big aman to play jokes upon."
"No, I didn't and I'm not sure I know why."
"I know why," Abe said. He sat up suddenly and swung his feet around andto the floor.
The other two watched him, both frowning.
Abe said slowly, "Homer, you _are_ El Hassan."
His chief scowled at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"
The younger man gestured impatiently. "Figure it out. Somebody elsealready has, the somebody who took a shot at you from that mosque. Look,put it all together and it makes sense.
"These North Africans aren't going to make it, not in the short periodof time that we want them to, unless a leader appears on the scene.These people are just beginning to emerge from tribal society. In thetribes, people live by rituals and taboos, by traditions. But at thenext step in the evolution of society they follow a Hero--and thetraditions are thrown overboard. It's one step up the ladder of culturalevolution. Just for the record, the Heroes almost invariably getclobbered in the end, since a Hero must be perfect. Once he is foundwanting in any respect, he's a false prophet, a cheat, and a new,perfect and faultless Hero must be found.
"O.K. At this stage we need a Hero to unite North Africa, but this timewe need a real super-Hero. In this modern age, the old style one won'tdo. We need one with education, and altruism, one with the dream, as youcall it. We need a man who has no affiliations, no preferences forTuareg, Teda, Chaambra, Dogon, Moor or whatever. He's got
to be trulyneutral. O.K., you're it. You're an American Negro, educated, competent,widely experienced. You're a natural for the job. You speak Arabic,French, Tamabeq, Songhai and even Swahili."
Abe stopped momentarily and twisted his face in a grimace. "But there'sone other thing that's possibly the most important of all. Homer, you'rea born leader."
"Who _me_?" Crawford snorted. "I hate to be put in a position where Ihave to lead men, make decisions, that sort of thing.
"That's beside the point. There in Timbuktu you had them in the palm ofyour hand. All except one or two, like Doc Smythe and that missionary.And I have an idea even they'd come around. Everybody there felt it.They were in favor of anything you suggested. Isobel?"
She nodded, very seriously. "Yes. You have a personality that goes over,Homer. I think it would be a rare person who could conceive of youcheating, or misleading. You're so obviously sincere, competent andintelligent that it, well, _projects_ itself. I noticed it even more inMopti than Timbuktu. You had that city in your palm in a matter of a fewhours."
Homer Crawford shifted his shoulders, uncomfortably.
Abe said, "You might dislike the job, but it's a job that needs doing."
Crawford ran his hand around the back of his neck, uncomfortably. "Youthink such a project would get the support of the various teams andorganizations working North Africa, eh?"
"Practically a hundred per cent. And even if some organizations or evencountries, with their own row to hoe, tried to buck you, theirindividual members and teams would come over. Why? Because it makessense."
Homer Crawford said worriedly, "Actually, I've realized this, partiallysubconsciously, for some time. But I didn't put myself in the role.I ... I wish there really was an El Hassan. I'd throw my efforts behindhim."
"There will be an El Hassan," Abe said definitely. "And you can be him."
Crawford stared at Abe, undecided.
Isobel said, suddenly, "I think Abe's right, Homer."
* * * * *
Abe seemed to switch the tempo of his talk. He said, "There's just onething, Homer. It's a long range question, but it's an important one."
"Yes?"
"What're your politics?"
"My politics? I haven't any politics here in North Africa."
"I mean back home. I've never discussed politics with you, Homer, partlybecause I haven't wanted to reveal my own. But now the question comesup. What is your position, ultimately, speaking on a world-wide basis?"
Homer looked at him quizzically, trying to get at what was behind theother's words. "I don't belong to any political party," he said slowly.
Abe said evenly, "I do, Homer. I'm a Party member."
Crawford was beginning to get it. "If you mean do I ultimately supportthe program of the Soviet Complex, the answer is definitely no. Whetheror not it's desirable for Russia or for China, is up to the Russians andChinese to decide. But I don't believe it's desirable for such advancedcountries as the United States and most of Western Europe. We've gotlarge problems that need answering, but the commies don't supply theanswers so far as I'm concerned."
"I see," Abe said. He was far, far different than the laughing, beatnikjabbering, youngster he had always seemed. "That's not so good."
"Why not?" Homer demanded. His eyes went to where Isobel sat, her facestrained at all this, but he could read nothing in her expression, andshe said nothing.
Abe said, "Because, admittedly, North Africa isn't ready for a communistprogram as yet. It's in too primitive a condition. However, it'sprogressing fast, fantastically fast, and the coming of El Hassan isgoing to speed things up still more."
Abe said deliberately, "Possibly twenty years from now the area _will_be ready for a communist program. And at that time we don't wantsomebody with El Hassan's power and prestige against us. We take thelong view, Homer, and it dictates that El Hassan has to be secretly onthe Party's side."
Homer was nodding. "I see. So that's why you shot at me in Timbuktu."
Abe's eyes went wary. He said, "I didn't know you knew."
Crawford nodded. "It just came to me. It had to be you. Supposedly, youbroke into the mosque from the back at the same moment I came in thefront. Actually, you were already inside." Homer grunted. "Besides, itwould have been awfully difficult for anyone else to have doped thatbottle of cognac on me. What I couldn't understand, and still can't, wasmotive. We've been in the clutch together more than once, Abe."
"That's right, Homer, but there are some things so important thatfriendship goes by the board. I could see as far back as that meetingsomething that hadn't occurred to either you or the others. You were aborn El Hassan. I figured it was necessary to get you out of the way andput one of our own--perhaps me, even--in your place. No ill feelings,Homer. In fact, now I've just given you your chance. You could come inwith us--"
Even as he was speaking, his eyes moved in a way Homer Crawfordrecognized. He'd seen Abe Baker in action often enough. A gun flickedout of an under-the-arm holster, but Crawford moved in anticipation. Theflat of his hand darted forward, chopped and the hand weapon was on thefloor.
As Isobel screamed, Abe countered the attack. He reached forward in ajujitsu maneuver, grabbed a coat sleeve and a handful of suit coat. Hetwisted quickly, threw the other man over one hip and to the floor.
But Homer Crawford was already expertly rolling with the fall, rollingout to get a fresh start.
Abe Baker knew that in the long go, in spite of his somewhat greaterheft, he wouldn't be able to take his former chief in the other man'sown field. Now he threw himself on the other, on the floor. Legs andarms tangled in half realized, quickly defeated holds and maneuvers.
Abe called, "Quick, Isobel, the gun. Get the gun and cover him."
She shook her head, desperately. "Oh no. No!"
Abe bit out, his teeth grinding under the punishment he was taking,"That's an order, _Comrade Cunningham_! Get the gun!"
"No. No, I can't!" She turned and fled the room.
Abe muttered an obscenity, bridged and crabbed out of the desperateposition he was in. And now his fingers were but a few inches from theweapon. He stretched.
Homer Crawford, heavy veins in his own forehead from his exertions,panted, "Abe, I can't let you get that gun. Call it quits."
"Can't, Homer," Abe gritted. His fingers were a few fractions of an inchfrom the weapon.
Crawford panted, "Abe, there's just one thing I can do. A karate blow._I_ can chop your windpipe with the side of my hand. Abe, if I do, onlyimmediate surgery could save your--"
Abe's fingers closed about the gun and Crawford, calling on his lastresources, lashed out. He could feel the cartilage collapse, a sound ofair, for a moment, almost like a shriek filled the room.
The gun was meaningless now. Homer Crawford, his face agonized, was onhis knees beside the other who was threshing on the floor. "Abe," hegroaned. "You made me."
Abe Baker's face was quickly going ashen in his impossible quest foroxygen. For a last second there was a gleam in his eyes and his lipsmoved. Crawford bent down. He wasn't sure, but he thought that somehowthe other found enough air to get out a last, "Crazy man."
When it was over, Homer Crawford stood again, and looked down at thebody, his face expressionless.
From behind him a voice said, "So I got here too late."
Crawford turned. It was Elmer Allen, gun in hand.
Homer Crawford said dully, "What are you doing here?"
Elmer looked at the body, then back at his chief. "Bey figured out whatmust have happened at the mosque there in Timbuktu. We didn't know whatmight be motivating Abe, but we got here as quick as we could."
"He was a commie," Crawford said dully. "Evidently, the Party decided Istood in its way. Where are the others?"
"Scouring the town to find you."
Crawford said wearily, "Find the others and bring them here. We've gotto get rid of poor Abe, there, and then I've got something to tell you."
"Very well, ch
ief," Elmer said, holstering his gun. "Oh, just one thingbefore I go. You know that chap Rex Donaldson? Well, we had somediscussion after you left. This'll probably surprise you Homer,but--hold onto your hat, as you Americans say--Donaldson thinks youought to _become_ El Hassan. And Bey, Kenny and I agree."
Crawford said, "We'll talk about it later, Elmer."
* * * * *
He knocked at her door and a moment later she came. She saw who it was,opened for him and returned to the room beyond. She had obviously beencrying.
Homer Crawford said, but with no reproach in his voice, "You should havehelped me, to be consistent."
"I knew you'd win."
"Nevertheless, once you'd switched sides, you should have attempted tohelp me. If you had, maybe Abe would still be alive."
She took a quick agonized breath, and sat down in one of the two chairs,her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She said, "I ... I've known Abesince my early teens."
He said nothing.
"In college, he was the cell leader. He enlisted me into the Party."
Crawford still didn't speak.
She said defiantly, "He was an idealist, Homer."
"I know that," Crawford said. "And along with it, he's saved my life, onat least three different occasions in the past few years. He was a goodman."
It was her turn to hold silence.
Homer hit the palm of his left hand with the fist of his right. "That'swhat so many don't realize. They think this is all a kind of cowboys andIndians affair. The good guys and the bad guys fighting it out. And, ofcourse, all the good guys are on our side and their side is composed ofbad guys. They don't realize that many, even most, of the enemy arefighting for an ideal, too--and are willing to die for it, or do thingssometimes even harder than dying."
He paced the floor for an agonized moment, before adding. "The fact thatthe ideal is a false one--or so, at least, is my opinion--is beside thepoint."
He suddenly dropped it and switched subjects. "This isn't as much asurprise to me as you possibly think, Isobel. There was only one waythat episode in Timbuktu could have taken place. Abe was waiting for meto pass that mosque. But I had to pass. I had to be _fingered_ as theold gangster expression had it. And you led me into the ambush."
He looked down at her. "But what changed his mind? Why did he offer,tonight, to let me take over the El Hassan leadership?"
Isobel said, her voice low. "In Timbuktu, when Abe saw the way thingswere going, he realized you'd have to be liquidated, otherwise El Hassanwould be a leader the Party couldn't control. He tried to eliminate you,and then tried again with the cognac. Last night, however, he checkedwith local party leaders and they decided that he'd acted tooprecipitately. They suggested you be given the opportunity to line upwith the Party."
"And if I didn't?" Homer said.
"Then you were to be liquidated."
"So the finger is still on me, eh?"
"Yes, you'll have to be careful."
He looked full into her face. "How do you stand now?"
She returned his frank look. "I'm the first follower to dedicate herservices to El Hassan."
"So you want to come along?"
"Yes," she said simply.
"And you remember what Abe said? That in the end the Hero invariablygets clobbered? Sooner or later, North Africa will outgrow the need fora Hero to follow and then ... then El Hassan and his closest followershave a good chance of winding up before a firing squad."
"Yes, I know that."
Homer Crawford ran his hand back over his short hair, wearily. "O.K.,Isobel. Your first instructions are to contact those two friends ofyours, Jake Armstrong and Cliff Jackson. Try to convert them."
"What are you going to be doing ... El Hassan?"
"I'm going over to the Reunited Nations to resign from the AfricanDevelopment Project. I have a sneaking suspicion that in the future theywill not always be seeing eye to eye with El Hassan. Nor will the otherorganizations currently helping to advance Africa--whilst still at thesame time keeping their own irons in the fire. Possibly the commieswon't be the only ones in favor of liquidating El Hassan's assets."
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