of the ulna cracked like glass, and Boris howled at the excruciating
agony. His hand opened involuntarily, and his forefinger jerked away
from the trigger without the strength to fire the shot he was aiming at
Mek's belly.
Mek rolled to his feet, and before Boris could change the rifle to his
other hand he disappeared behind the angle of the giant boulder.
With his left hand Boris swung the butt of the rifle at Tessay's head,
knocking her backwards into the sand. Then he thrust the muzzle into her
throat, pinning her there while he shouted angrily. "I am going to kill
her, you black bastard! If you want your whore, you' better come fetch
her!" The pain of the shattered elbow rendered his voice hoarse and
brutish.
From somewhere behind the boulder Mek Nimmur's voice fang out strongly
and clearly, calling a single word in Amharic that echoed along the
cliffs. Then he spoke in English, "My men will be here in a moment.
Leave the woman and I will spare you. Harm her and I will make you plead
for death."
Boris stooped over Tessay and dragged her to her feet with his good arm
locked around her throat. He held the rifle in the same hand, pointing
it over her shoulder. The hand of his injured arm had recovered
sufficiently from the first shock to be able to hold the pistol grip and
to manipulate the trigger.
"She will be dead long before your men get here," he shouted back as he
started to drag her away from the boulder. "Come and get her yourself,
Mek. She is here if you want her."
He tightened his lock around her throat, choking her until she struggled
and gasped, tearing at his arm with her nails and leaving long red welts
across the tanned skin.
"Listen to her! I am crushing this pretty neck. Listen to her choking."
He tightened his grip, forcing the sounds of distress out of her.
Boris was watching the corner of the boulder where Mek had disappeared.
At the same time he was backing away from it, giving himself space in
which to work. His mind was racing, for he knew that he could not
escape. His right arm was barely usable, and there were too many of
Mek's shufta companions. He had the woman, but he wanted the man as
well. That was the best trade that he could hope for - both of them, he
had to have both of them.
He heard a shout, a strange voice from higher up the slope. Mek's men
were on their way. He was desperate now. Mek was not going to be drawn;
he had not heard him speak or move for almost two minutes. He had lost
him - by this time he could be anywhere.
"Too late," Boris realized. "I am not going to get him.
Only the woman. But I must do it now." He forced her to her knees and
stooped over her, shifting the lock of his arm around her throat.
"Goodbye, Tessay," he grated in her ear. He tightened his arm muscles
and felt the vertebrae in her neck arched to breaking point. It needed
only an ounce more pressure.
"It's all over for you," he whispered, and began the final pressure. He
knew from long experience the sound, that the vertebrae would make as
they gave, and he tensed himself for it, poised for that crackle like
the breaking of a green branch, and the stack weight of her corpse in
his grip.
Then something crashed into his back with a force that seemed to drive
in his backbone and crush his ribs.
Both the strength and the direction were entirely unexpected. It did not
seem possible that Mek Nimmur could have moved so far and so swiftly. He
must have left the shelter of the boulder and circled out through the
scrub.
Now he had come at Boris from behind.
His attack was so savage that the arm that Boris had wound around
Tessay's neck opened.- She drew in a wheezing, strangled breath and
twisted out of his grip. Boris tried to turn and swing the rifle around,
but Mek was on him again, seizing the rifle and trying to wrest it from
Boris's hands.
The Russian's finger was still on the trigger, and a shot went off white
the muzzle was level with Mek's face. The detonation stunned him for an
instant, and he released the rifle and staggered backwards with his ears
ringing.
Boris backed away from him, struggling with the weapon, trying to open
the bolt and crank another cartridge into the chamber, but his crippled
right arm'made his movements clumsy and awkward. Mek gathered himself
and charged head down across the gravel beach. He drove into Boris with
all his weight, and the rifle flew out of the Russian's hands. Locked
chest to chest the two of them spun around in a macabre waltz, trying to
throw each other, wrestling for the advantage, until they tripped and
went over backwards into the river.
They came to the surface still grappling and rolling over each other,
first one on top and then the other, a fearful parody of the lovemaking
which Boris had watched a few minutes earlier. Punching and straining
and tripping each other, they struggled in the shallows. But every time
they fell back into the water the slope of the bank beneath their feet
forced them further out, until, when they were waist-deep, the main
current of the Nile suddenly picked them up and swept them away
downstream. They were still locked together, their heads bobbing in the
tumble of waters, their arms thrashing the water white around them,
bellowing at each other in primeval rage.
Tessay heard the men that Mek had called coming down through the scrub
at the run. She snatched up her shamnw and pulled it over her head as
she ran to meet them. As the first of them burst on to the gravel bar
with his AK cocked, she shouted to him in Amharic.
"There! Mek is in the water. He is fighting the Russian.
Help him!" She ran with them along the bank. As they drew level with the
two men in midstream one of the men stopped and levelled his AK, but
Tessay rushed at him and struck up the barrel.
"You fool!" she shouted angrily. "You will hit Mek." Jumping to the top
of one of the riverside boulders, she shaded her eyes against the
dazzling reflection of the low sun off the water. With a sick feeling in
the pit of her stomach she saw that Boris had managed to get behind Mek
and had a half nelson hold around his throat. He was forcing Mek's head
under the surface. Mek was struggling like a hooked salmon in his grip
as they were swept into a long chute of white water.
Tessay jumped down from the rock and ran on down the bank to the next
point, from which she could only watch helplessly.
Boris was still holding Mek's head under water as they were home
together into the head of the chute. Fangs of black rock flashed by them
on each side as they gathered speed. Mek was a powerful man and Boris
had to exert every last ounce of his own strength to hold him, and he
knew he could not do so much longer. Suddenly Mek reared back, and for a
moment his head came out. He sucked a quick breath of air before Boris
could force him under again, but that breath seemed to have renewed his
strength.
Desperately Boris looked ahead to the tail of the chute as they sped
towards it. There were more rocks there. Boris picked out one great
black slab over which the waters poured in a standing wave three feet