The voice of Colonel Gallast came through the door and the barricading beds. It was distinct, but it had a muffled quality. It said: “Lieutenant D’Aran—are you there?”
A sigh spread among the legionnaires. Of relief. The vital hand was about to be played.
D’Aran gestured to the others to stay where they were. He walked nearer to the door and stopped a little to one side of it. Then, raising his voice slightly, he said: “I thought I’d hear from you. You must have had an eventful morning, Gallast!”
“Yes, lieutenant, I won’t deny that it has had its surprises.” He paused and added in a smoothly conciliatory fashion: “Wouldn’t it be best if you talked with me in your room?”
D’Aran was unaware of the fact, but his answer caused Gallast to blink with surprise. He said: “I’ll probably be doing that very shortly, Gallast. But for the moment I’ll stay where I am.”
“I see… as a soldier I want to say that you have surprised me. You have shown courage and audacity which is worthy of a better cause than the one you serve. But I am puzzled about some of the details of your tactics. Will you answer a few questions?”
“Oui.”
“Do you realise that with the two remaining horses we can still reach the foothills before the explosion? Why did you not wait until tomorrow, when our escape would have been impossible?”
D’Aran smiled. It was the first time he had smiled genuinely in weeks. He looked almost boyish again.
And he countered with another question. He asked: “Have you had anything to drink this morning, Gallast?”
After an utter silence: “I haven’t—but will you explain?”
“You have no water. And you cannot travel far without water, can you, Gallast!”
“The… the tank…”
“One of your guards is at the bottom of the tank. I believe his name is Sarle. His body will have quite a contaminating effect, particularly in this climate. But, for good measure, monsieur, a large quantity of salt has been dropped in to keep him company!”
Another interval. Another absolute silence. It was broken by the sound of receding footsteps. Then quiet again. D’Aran found a carefully preserved cigarette stub. He lit it and waited…
Waited for nearly fifteen minutes.
The cigarette had been smoked down to the last centimetre and ground out when a voice which was a harsh parody of Gallast’s normal tones said: “We have managed to recover Sarle’s body, lieutenant.”
“Bon. He would have to be removed some time and it is just as well that you have done the unpleasant work. Now are you convinced that you are trapped, Gallast?”
“Perhaps—perhaps I am convinced.”
“You appreciate that we have the only pure water in the fort. It’s in the pitchers that Sarle was said to have been seeking… now have you any other questions, Gallast?”
“No, I think not. I played for a great prize and the risks were great. I have lost. But in a sense you have lost also, lieutenant, for we will die together tomorrow afternoon.
D’Aran was smiling again as he said: “That will not be necessary, Gallast. For our part, we intend to live. That is why we struck against you today, instead of waiting. We want plenty of time to contact the High Command, so that the explosion can be postponed.”
“And how do you intend to contact the High Command?”
“By the fort wireless, of course. How else?”
Softly, so softly that the legionnaires had to strain to hear, Gallast said: “I destroyed the fort radio at two o’clock this morning…”
4. Collapse
Professor Daak heard it.
He had followed Gallast to the end of the corridor. He had propped himself against the wall. Mouth slack; pince-nez at an acute angle, he followed the exchanges.
And his breathing, always noisy, reached an agonising volume as the conversation progressed. He epitomised the distilled essence of terror as he listened to the references to the radio.
He stumbled to Gallast. Reaching up, he clawed at his shoulders with flabby, sweaty hands. And he gasped: “Blundering cretin! I thought you were mad when you told me yesterday that you were going to destroy the wireless! But no one can tell Colonel Gallast anything! Oh no! Now see what you’ve done… we’re trapped on top of a hydrogen bomb! We can’t get away and we can’t stop it exploding, so…”
Gallast half turned and regarded Daak with unconcealed contempt.
“We’re not on top of it, as you put it. We’re twenty-five miles off.”
“Twenty-five miles! It might as well be twenty-five inches! Do you know what will happen to us when that is detonated? Do you! I’ll tell you! We’ll dissolve! All that will be left of us will be a few pools of gristle and dried blubber. We…”
Gallast detached the clawing hands. Then he pushed Daak on the chest. It was not a violent push. But it was enough to knock the professor off balance.
Daak spun back against the wall. He stood there— staring at nothing. Then he fell on his face and was still.
Gallast bent down and felt under the moist shirt. There was a heartbeat—but a weak and irregular one. It did not matter. Daak was of no use now.
His men were gathered in a scared huddle a few yards away. They had moved up to hear what D’Aran said. They had heard more than enough.
Gallast jerked a thumb at them, then at Daak.
“One of you put the professor on his bunk,” he ordered.
No one moved.
“Did you hear what I said? Put the…”
A man whose clothing was dripping with water interrupted. This man had had the unpleasant task of groping at the bottom of the tank while Gallast held his ankles.
He said: “Put him there yourself, comrade colonel.”
Gallast regarded him steadily, with a form of detached interest. The rebel lowered his eyes. He was looking at the floor as he added sullenly: “We’re taking no more orders from you… no more orders from anyone.”
“And why won’t you take orders from me?”
“Because you’re an assassin. The professor has told us all we need to know. If it hadn’t been for you, we could have sent a radio signal and got…”
The bullet from Gallast’s Luger pierced the bridge of the man’s nose and emerged at the top of his skull. He bore an expression of indignant astonishment as he died.
It was the unexpectedness of the killing rather than the killing itself which reduced the remaining six men to temporary impotence. But it was only temporary. After staring dumbly at Gallast, then at the body, they gave forth grunts of anger. Their hands strayed to their gun belts.
Gallast would not have survived another minute if D’Aran’s voice had not come through the door.
D’Aran said: “You’d better let me look at the wireless, Gallast.”
There was an easing of tension in the corridor.
After hesitating, Gallast pushed his gun in its holster and turned his back on his men.
“It’s smashed, I tell you. I destroyed the valves. It can’t be repaired.”
“There’s a spare set of valves in the drawer of my desk. They are at the back. You probably have not noticed them.”
Gallast raised a hand to his forehead. It shook. The others were shaking, too.
“Then it can be repaired!”
“Perhaps—if you have not destroyed any other components.”