Bluebolt One (23 page)

Hartog nodded. “I told him a couple of days ago. I got in a mad temper and it just came out. That was when he warned me officially to stop it all. Said that as a serving officer in an executive command he couldn’t let the station get mixed up in what was essentially a political matter. He said it’d be the boot for him if anything came out, which I dare say is true enough, but for God’s sake!” He looked almost appealingly at Shaw. “There’s more in the pot now than one man’s career. Anyway I didn’t take a blind bit of notice of him. You see, in a way, I’m doing your job for you. Finding out what’s going on—or trying my best to.”

Shaw said slowly, “Hartog, it’s a damned tall story. Have you in fact found anything out?”

“No. Only what I told you before—that the blacks think Edo’s turned up somewhere.”

“Nothing else at all?”

“Nothing else at all. They’re a close lot, you know. They accept me all right, but the impression I get is that they don’t know themselves what’s going to happen, and they won’t know till Edo tells them. Out here, they’re only the small fry, the labourers of the racket, as you might say, who’re waiting for the big bugs to join them—but there’s millions of them and they’re the Africa that counts. This thing’s going to be big if it’s allowed to come off.”

Shaw asked, “What do you
think
is going to happen?” 

Hartog shrugged, fingers drumming on the desk nervously. “That’s anybody’s guess. It may be a wholesale uprising if Tshemambi doesn’t back down—and I’m damn sure he won’t. It may be some attack on the base here, it could even be . . .well, I just don’t know. Theorizing doesn’t help much.” He paused, then asked, “Well? D’you believe me?”

Shaw bit his lip, frowned. He said, “You’ve put me in a spot. What you’ve said does begin to make a curious kind of sense, I suppose. Look, what are your own real feelings about the Africans? I know Geisler said you didn’t like them, but—”

“I detest their stinking hides.”

Shaw was startled by the sheer venom in the man’s tone; the feeling, he was convinced, was absolutely genuine. He asked, “In that case, isn’t it a little odd that they accept you—a member of the station staff, too—as a sympathizer of the Cult?”

Hartog said, “Well, it wasn’t quite that way, not in the first place.” He paused. “They blackmailed me into it at the start, Shaw, and that I’ve not told Steve, by the way, because he wouldn’t understand. But I’ll tell you why, if you’re interested. I dare say you’ll ferret it out for yourself now, anyway.”

“I’m more than interested.”

“Right. It’s like this: When I was in the Russian zone after being liberated from that German P.O.W. camp, I was ... forced to do some work in the guided missiles field for the Reds. God knows, it wasn’t anything they couldn’t have worked out for themselves in time—and it never came out in the screening process after I escaped back to the West. I didn’t say anything, neither did the Reds.” He paused, rubbed at his eyes. “Then a long time later, a couple of men came to see me in London and they told me I was only at liberty through the good offices of the Reds and that if they just let some information trickle through I’d be for the high jump. They said, however, that they never
would
let on. . . but there was a suggestion in the air that one day they might ask foi; payment for keeping quiet. D’you follow?”

Shaw nodded. “Indeed I do. And I suppose Edo was asked to collect—right?”

“Bloody right! His people out here told me that if I didn’t do as they wanted, they’d see to it that there was a nice little calculated ‘leak’ that I’d worked for Russia in the past—
and was still doing so
. That I was a Communist spy. Obviously, that would have meant curtains for me. So—I pretended to go along with the Cult. I even went a little further and said I’d had a change of heart since being back in the West. You see, all the Cult knew about me were the bare facts that I was a scientist, that I’d been interned by the Nazis during the War and very badly treated by them—and that it was the nice, kind Russians who’d released me in the end. And of course they knew the basic fact that I’d quite genuinely worked for the Russians, even if at that time it was against my will. So it didn’t take too much fast talking on my part to convince them a little further—some of the leaders of the Cult are educated, westernized men, and they know about these things, but they don’t know enough on their own to sort out the sheep from the goats altogether. They knew that in the past it hadn’t been unknown for a scientist’s loyalties to change, and they knew that such men are apt to be thinkers, reasoners who don’t automatically accept all the dished-out dope, intelligent and even sensitive men.”

Hartog paused again, shrugging big shoulders. He went on, “Well, that became my line. As a pure physicist by early training, I told them, I knew what atomic war would mean and I hated to see my skill being used . . . you know the sort of thing—blah, blah, blah. I let it be known that I wouldn’t say no to the offer of a decent job inside Russia, working on electronics or atomic matters as applied to peaceful purposes, once this thing was over. I told them I was in sympathy with the anti-nuclear boys, the Aldermaston Marchers, and all that lot. I tell you—it was dead easy—”

“Yes, I reckon so, but these bastards wouldn’t have access to that, would they? Anyway, I took that risk. They’d have had to have some one planted right inside the security sections in London and Washington to find out what was written about me, and evidently they hadn’t, so the chance paid off. And now I’ve been able to work myself into just the right position to find out exactly what their plans are as soon as they’ve got their orders themselves. So far, as I said, I haven’t got very far and I can’t even tell you the names of the local high-ups—they all use code names and code names only. I don’t know who Edo is yet, either. But I’ll find out. They’re such simpletons, Shaw, such goddam kids! If they hadn’t been that, they’d never have fallen for Edo in the first place, of course.”

“Which makes it all the worse that Edo and his friends are prepared to exploit them. Look, Hartog—what do you think about my theory that they might use inside assistance, say to prepare the way for an attack on the station?”

Hartog laughed. “Still meaning me? May as well be honest, my dear fellow! Anyway, the answer is—I think you’re on the wrong tack there.”

“Why?”

“Because there isn’t anyone they could use—so far as I know—except me. And they’ve never made any such suggestion to me. Of course, they’re delighted to have some one, as they think, from inside the base on their side, and I dare say the suggestion could come. If it does I’ll let you know!” “Uh-huh....” Shaw was about to say something else when there was a knock at the door and a naval rating came into the office.

He said, “Say, Mr Hartog, is this Commander Shaw?” Shaw said, “That’s me.”

“Well, a message has just come in on Commander Geisler’s line. It was from Colonel Mgelo—”

Hartog put in, “Chief of Police in Jinda.”

“—and he wants to see Commander Shaw right away. He’s sending a military plane into Manalati airfield to pick him up.” 

Shaw remarked wryly, “They told me in Jinda the airfield was unserviceable.”

“Sure, that’s right—for civil aircraft with passengers,” the rating said. “Colonel Mgelo knows it’s risky but he says a military pilot can make it okay—you hope—and it’s the only way to get you back there real fast, sir.” He added, “He says it’s very important and the plane’ll be at Manalati within about an hour, okay?”

Shaw said, “Yes, thank you.” As the man left the office Hartog lifted an eyebrow. He said, “Seems I’m dead right. Could be they’ve got word about Edo.”

“Perhaps. Could I just use your phone, Hartog?”

“Course. Who d’you want to ring?”

Shaw said, “It might be a good idea just to check back with this Colonel Mgelo that the message really did come from him . . . you never can tell.”

There was a funny glitter in Hartog’s eye as he lifted his receiver and said thoughtfully, “Perhaps you’re right.”

The call to Jinda did in fact confirm that Mgelo had rung and wanted to see Shaw—he had, he said, a lead to the girl, Gillian Ross. Shaw’s heart leapt at that, and he promised to get away the moment the plane touched down at Manalati.

Waiting a little later in Stephen Geisler’s room for the helicopter to be made ready again to fly him into Manalati, Shaw asked, “What’s your opinion of Hartog, Commander?”

The American didn’t seem surprised at the question; but he replied by asking, “Do I have to answer that?”

“No, but I would like your views very much.” Shaw smiled, crinkling his nose. “I’m here to help you, and the more I know about the whole set-up, the better I can do my job. You’ll appreciate that, I’m sure.”

“Why, yes.” Geisler shifted about nervily in his chair. “I don’t altogether hit it oil with him, he may have told you that. I don’t want to sound biased. I do try to be fair.”

“Of course. I realize it can be a ticklish business, this two-nation control. But you’ve no doubts about him in the line of security?”

Geisler was decisive on that point. “Oh, heck, no. He’s absolutely okay in that direction. Overkeen, I’d say.” He hesitated, rubbing thoughtfully at his forehead and frowning. “It’s just his personality, I guess. So goddam hasty and kind of overbearing. And impatient for results. Gets God Almighty het-up, you know what I mean? That’s what made him do this damfool stunt—” Geisler checked himself. “Did he tell you?”

“About joining the Cult—yes, he did. It was a risky thing to do and I’m not surprised you didn’t like it. All the same— it
could pay
off in the end.”

Geisler said, “Well, yes, maybe. But I’ll say I didn’t like it! As a serving officer on normal command duties—would you?”

Shaw grinned. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“See, the way I look at it, it’s
not
our job to get mixed up in that kind of thing. Could lead to all sorts of trouble, I guess. Could even mess things up for the people whose job it is, like you. I told him that.” He sighed. “Course, it’s partly the way we all get here at the base. Kind of gets a man down. That’s what’s happened to Julian. It’s that sort of atmosphere, if you get me. I’ve a feeling sometimes he’s going off his head, that he’ll crack up if he goes on like this.”

“You mean he needs some leave?” Shaw remembered what Anne Hartog had said about that. “Needs a break?”

“That’s about it. Being together here so many hours a day and sometimes half the night too, just lately while we’ve been putting the station on to an operational basis, and then with so little social life, well, we’ve got on each other’s nerves. That’s all, really.”

“Nothing more to it than that?”

Geisler said slowly, “I guess not, no. I’ve got to be fair. I reckon he could find plenty of fault with me, come to that.” He looked hard at Shaw suddenly. “You getting at anything particular, Commander?”

Shaw hesitated. Then he said, “I’ll be honest and tell you I don’t know what to think. There’s one or two things that I don’t believe quite add up, but then again, they could. Hartog struck me as some one who’s his own worst enemy in a way. I mean, it’s almost as though he wants people to be suspicious about him. As you said, it could even be that he is getting a little bit unbalanced. That’s rather how he struck me, too. But we don’t want anything to go wrong, just now particularly. I’ll be having a word with this Colonel Mgelo in Jinda about—about one thing and another, but in the meantime I’d like you to do something for me.”

“And that is?”

Shaw said quietly, “Keep an eye on Hartog while I’m away. Try not to leave him alone till I get back—I shan’t be gone long, I hope. I’m not quite easy in my mind, but I don’t want to act just yet and perhaps mess up a lead. You see, if Hartog’s genuine, and he very likely is, then he may really be on the verge of finding something out from the Edo boys, something that’ll tie this job right up. On the other hand, if he’s—well, not so genuine as he says he is, he could still lead us to something he doesn’t intend. I can’t risk dropping any leads down the drain. What he told me did have the ring of truth about it, as a matter of fact, but I’d like him watched—very unobtrusively, so he doesn’t know what’s going on. Can you fix that?”

“Why, sure I can if you want.”

Shaw relaxed. “Good—and thanks. It’s not a pleasant thing to do, I know, and I’m sorry to have to ask you, but it could be very important. And there’s something else. I’d like an eye kept on all the African labour. I don’t like the atmosphere among any of the blacks. It’s something I’ll be discussing with Mgelo. What I have in mind is that it might be wise to get rid of all African labour, but Mgelo might take a different view of that. He might think it would only exacerbate the situation, precipitate something. How would you feel about it?”

The American grinned. “Heck, sore as hell! It’d make things even more goddam uncomfortable till we could get white replacements sent out. Anyhow, I don’t think it’s at all necessary. We’ve never had any trouble with ’em.”

“Maybe not, but—if anything did start, say if they ran amok here inside the station, things might get pretty tricky, surely?”

“I don’t anticipate anything like that—I told you it’s all okay inside. They’re a decent enough bunch, and we’ve got ’em very well in hand.”

“Well, of course, it’s up to you, Commander.” Shaw looked at him narrowly. He asked, “Talking of the Africans, you’re quite convinced that Hartog’s genuine in what he says are his feelings for the blacks—that he loathes their guts?”

“I’m absolutely definite on that. You can’t live with a man for close on two years and not know if he’s acting. But he has got enough sense to keep his feelings to himself—especially, of course, since he joined the goddam Cult!” Shaw nodded. He looked round as a rating came in, saluted smartly, and reported the helicopter ready. As he got up he said, “So long as you’ll keep that eye open, it’s all we can do for now anyway. I’ll try to be back by this evening if I can. . . ."

At Manalati Shaw sat and waited uncomfortably in a bare, tin-roofed hut, listening to the monotonous drumming of the rain, a sound which filled the place like distant rumbling thunder, continuous and oppressive, a sound of foreboding. If a man had to listen to this kind of thing for six rainy months at a stretch, with only short intermissions, that alone would be enough to send him round the bend, he thought.