“And we can contact your High Command… they’ll have the explosion delayed! Thank you, lieutenant, thank you! I will make the repairs myself. You and your men will stay where you are. If you try to come out, you will be shot down.”
D’Aran’s voice remained suave.
“No, Gallast, I will attend to the wireless. And I will send the signal. No help can reach us for at least twenty-four hours—and we have the water. Unless you want to die of thirst, you must do as I say.”
Gallast understood. He thought for a few moments. Then: “I will make a bargain with you lieutenant—you allow us half of your water and we will leave the fort immediately. We will not attempt to harm you.”
D’Aran laughed.
“You’re in no position to do any bargaining, Gallast. And that offer does not appeal to me at all. Non… you will resign yourself to the fact that I am again in command here. You are my prisoners. I am coming out of this room. But my men will remain inside. So long as you behave yourselves, my legionnaires will pass out to you at regular intervals just enough water to keep you alive. If there is any violence, the supply will stop. And if you attempt to attack us, the pitchers will be emptied on the floor. And if that happens, we may survive until help comes, for we have drunk our fill. But you are already thirsty, aren’t you. It will be agony in a few hours. Do I make myself clear?”
Gallast’s men had gathered round him, ignoring the swooning Professor Daak. They were again fingering their pistols. And the menace was directed at their leader.
One of them said: “Let him repair the wireless…”
It started a chorus.
“We’re beaten…”
“We need water…”
“I’d rather rot in a French prison than die of thirst…”
“Or be melted down by the bomb…”
Gallast felt a new surge of fury. This time it was entirely directed at his men—his handpicked shock troops. Men selected for their loyalty as well as their fighting abilities. In the moments of dire emergency they had broken. They were useless.
But he disguised his emotion.
“Come out, lieutenant,” he called. “We’ll do exactly as you say.”
D’Aran said to the legionnaires: “Keep the water well away from the door. Pass them a cupful every two hours—no more.”
One of them asked: “Shall we shut the door after you’ve gone?”
“Non, it won’t be necessary. They won’t dare to attempt any tricks while we hold the water. But none of them must be allowed in here. That understood?”
They nodded. But Keith was looking worried.
Keith said: “I don’t like the idea of you going out there alone. Perhaps you’d better have company, mon officier.”
D’Aran put a hand on Keith’s shoulder.
“I’ll be quite safe, legionnaire. I will have a message transmitted within half an hour—if only the valves have been damaged. After that—we can only wait. And we may have to wait for quite a time, for the first task of the High Command will be to contact the scientists who are to detonate the bomb. They are some fifty miles south of Sanna in a remote area. It may be difficult.”
The legionnaires looked anxious. A Latvian said:
“What—what if they can’t get the message through.”
D’Aran smiled reassurance.
“The High Command will manage that, mon ami. If they can’t make radio contact, they’ll send a plane. But that is the least of our worries. The main task at the moment is to get our own wireless working.”
Keith touched his hand. He said: “Let me go with you, mon officier. You wouldn’t understand. But… but I don’t want to have to wait here while you’re alone with those thugs. Gallast is clever. Anything could happen…”
“Nothing can happen. But come if you wish, legionnaire. Now—.four men will take down the barricade!”
The iron beds were dragged away from the door. D’Aran and Keith unconsciously braced themselves when only the bolt stood between them and Gallast. D’Aran took a brief look round. Then he pulled back the bolt.
Gallast and his six men were waiting. Gallast came forward.
“There’s no time to lose,” he said. “I, too, understand wireless. I will help you.”
“You will stay here,” D’Aran told him. “And so will your men.”
They were about to push past when Keith pointed to Professor Daak.
Daak was still on the floor. But he was now conscious. And he was making weak movements with his feet, as if trying to stand.
“I’ll carry him to your room,” Keith said.
Without much difficulty he got the professor over his shoulder and followed D’Aran down the corridor.
They paused when about to enter the room. The place had assumed an even greater appearance of chaos. The extra bed had taken most of the remaining floor space. The magazine trapdoor was open. Papers—after being carefully read—had been thrust from the desk to the floor. And the radio table was a shambles of broken glass. Gallast had done a typically thorough job on the valves.
Keith lowered Daak on to his bed. The professor was recovering from his swoon. He sat upright and watched D’Aran open a desk drawer. When he saw the cartons of spare valves he blinked with hope and curiosity.
D’Aran carried the cartons to the radio table and there he made a quick but careful inspection. When he had finished he told Keith: “I think we are fortunate.”
He set to work. He removed the broken valves from their sockets while Keith unpacked the replacements and placed them gently at his elbow.
Daak managed to get to his feet and watched intently. The atmosphere was heavy with expectancy.
At first none of them saw the score of brown men in tattered robes who easily climbed the low walls.
They did not see the Arabs gather on the ramparts and stare in bewilderment round the apparently empty fort.
No one saw them until a scream of panic came from one of Gallast’s men. It was followed immediately by a shot from a Luger.
One of the Arabs—an aged man with a white beard-spun slowly on his heels before falling into the compound.
For a few seconds the tribesmen stared at him with a sheer lack of comprehension. Then one of them shouted. The call was taken up. A call of mad fury. Some waved their fists at the building. But most fumbled with their ancient muzzle-loading muskets.
Keith knew exactly what had happened. So did D’Aran. To those familiar with the command area, it was obvious.
This was an itinerant Bormone trading party. One of the several groups of Arabs who roamed the area, buying merchandise from one village and selling to another. Sometimes, but not often, they called at Fort Ney and offered fresh oasis fruit in exchange for a few sous. They invariably commenced such commerce by displaying their wares to the sentries on the ramparts. But today they had found no sentries. And no sound of life, for the fort had been in complete silence as D’Aran worked on the radio. They must have concluded that Fort Ney was deserted. And, naturally enough, they had decided to investigate.
Had any of the garrison been the first to see them he would have realised this. But it must have been one of Gallast’s men who had chanced to look outside.
And, in his ignorant panic, he had fired. He had killed.
Keith whispered: “Oh, my God, the lunatics…” Then, being nearest the door, he raced into the passage. So far no other shots had been fired from Gallast’s party. But they were crouching near the outer door, gripping Lebels and Lugers.
Keith screamed: “Don’t shoot… they’re harmless… they…”
But at that moment a volley of round shot came from the Arabs. The aim was wild. The slugs flattened against the outside wall.