The Continent Makers and Other Tales of the Viagens (29 page)

“Can’t tell accurately,” said Benson. “Not sooner than six hours and not later than forty-eight from now. If the maggots had been fired in their normal order instead of three at once, there wouldn’t have been any sudden drop.”

Sklar and the city cop were waving credentials at each other and arguing. Presently another uniformed gendarme appeared to join in with gestures.

Sklar silenced his colleagues long enough to say to Graham in English: “These blips will kip me tied up for hours while they untangle the red tapes. You and Varny are deputy constables; go find Colonel Coelho and make arrangements to fly us to Ascension with a platoon of polissmen.”

“Who’s he?” asked Graham.

“Chief of the city poliss. I know him.”

“But look, w-wouldn’t it be better to get—uh—some of your own World Federation people?”

“No. In the first place the nearest W.F. base is at Bahia. In the second the Constabulary hasn’t got the equipment for an attack like that. The Armed Force has, but it comes under the World Ministry of Defense, while we’re part of the Division of Investigation of the Ministry of Justice. And Defense is always trying to take us away from Justice and swallow us up themselves. So we don’t like itch other, and it would be almost as much trouble as to get help from the Brazzies. Now go on, hurry, if you want to save your little blue-haired girlfriend.”

Although the city police seemed disinclined at first to let these two witnesses go, Sklar overbore their objections by sheer lung power.

###

Graham and Varnipaz pushed their way out through the crowd and hurried down to the ground floor. They flagged a taxi, and on their way back downtown to the City Office Building they agreed that Graham should captain the party because he was wiser in the ways of Earthly bureaucracy, while the Krishnan should do the talking because of his superior command of the language.

Their W.F. identification cards got them into Colonel Coelho’s outer office, where they sat for half an hour before being admitted.

Colonel Coelho, a stout balding man in horn-rimmed glasses, seemed first unable to understand what they were getting at. When they had gone over the whole story—how the gang had infiltrated the Gamanovia Project, and caused one of the scientists to fire the maggots prematurely, and so on—he seemed shocked by the idea they had come to him at all.

“Why,” he said, looking something like an affronted owl, “my dear young men! I have no jurisdiction on Ascension! And moreover my airplanes are little putt-putts without the range required. While I have great esteem for Senhor Reinhold, he must be mad to think I could undertake such an assignment.”

Graham and Varnipaz looked at one another.

“The man you want,” continued the colonel, “is my respected colleague Commander Schmitz of the Federal District Police. I will give you a note to him. You will find him in the Federal District Building—”

“Perdon,”
said Graham, “but is that the same as the Federal Police?”

“Ah, no not at all. This is the Federal District, like your District of Columbia. In it lies the city of Rio de Janeiro, but the city does not occupy the entire district, which therefore has its own police. Make I myself clear?”

They thanked Coelho and went to find the Federal District Building. After getting lost a few times in the many little alleys that wandered off from the magnificent boulevards they found the building in question and settled down to wait in Commander Schmitz’s office.

This time it took forty minutes. They had time to read clear through a newspaper that Graham went out and bought before they were admitted to the presence.

Commander Affonso Schmitz, a little terrier of a man with grizzling red hair, listened to their story and barked: “Coelho must be out of his head to send you to
me!
Not only have I no authority for any such enterprise, but also my budget for the year has been cut to where I can barely perform my assigned duties. Young men, you have no idea how hard it is to police the mountainous country around Rio with my little force. If you could persuade those pinch-milréis in the legislature . . . But I suppose there is no time for that. I am vexed with Coelho for dumping such a fantastic problem in my lap. I know! “Go see Commodore de Andrada of the Rio de Janeiro State Police. If anybody can help you it should be he. I will write a note . . .”

“Excuse me,” said Graham, “but is this something different from both the Rio city police and the Federal District Police?”

“So—yes! We have a city of Rio and a state of Rio, just as you have a city of Washington and a state of Washington, and the one is not inside the other—though in our case the State of Rio de Janeiro lies all around the Federal District that contains the City of Rio. Here . . .”

As it was now past noon, they were getting hungry. Graham and Varnipaz stopped at a coffee shop for a roll and a cup of coffee before proceeding on to the Rio de Janeiro State Office Building. Graham remarked: “If we don’t get somewhere soon, the tsunami will be all over with.”

Varnipaz nodded gloomily as they plodded towards their next destination. This time they waited in the outer office for nearly two hours while the Commodore took his afternoon nap.

When they were finally admitted, they found Commodore de Andrada to be a slim, elegant-looking oldster with a carefully tended white mustache. He listened with his head cocked and a sympathetic expression on his face. When they finished he replied: “Ah, it breaks my heart and wrings my soul not to be able to help you. And such a romantic situation, too! Two brave young men flying to rescue the princess from the far planet! Were I but younger I should throw in my lot with yours. As it is, however, to my infinite regret, I must refuse you. You see I should have to get the approval of the State Legislature. In the first place they are not now in session; in the second, even if they were, it would take weeks to push through such an authorization; in the third, the Liberal Party is now in control whereas I am known to be of the Socialists, and they would like nothing better than an excuse to . . . But I think you follow me.

“However, do not look so downcast. If you will come back next month, when they are in session, I, Luiz de Andrada, will risk his future and sponsor a special appropriation . . .”

“I’m afraid that would be too late,” said Graham.

“Ah, you
Americanos do Norte,
always in a hurry! You do not know how to live. You should stay here a while and learn from us . . . But do not despair; no true Brazilian ever turned the stranger from his gates, or proffered him a stone when he needed bread. I will write you a letter to General Vasconcellos of the Federal Police . . .”

“Beg pardon,” said Graham, “but is that different from the Federal District Police? We’ve already been there, you know.”

“Oh, but surely it is different. The Federal Police are the national organization. They are what would be the Armed Forces if individual nations were allowed to keep armed forces any more . . .”

###

General Vasconcellos kept them waiting a mere twenty-five minutes, and turned out to be a stocky Negro with a serious expression. A handsome young aide, Lieutenant Manoel Gil according to the sign on his desk, sat across the room from the general.

When Varnipaz had told their story for the fourth time, General Vasconcellos said: “Since you have already been to Coelho, Schmitz, and de Andrada, I suppose this is your last stop in Brazil. Now I should like to assist you, but . . .”

Here we go again, thought Graham.

“But,” said General Vasconcellos, “I don’t like the idea of landing my men on the Rock just as this earthquake wave is due. If it drowned them . . .”

“That’s unlikely, sir,” said Graham. “Tsunamis rarely run over thirty meters high, and the island’s much higher than that.”

“But one cannot be sure, as this is the first man-made earthquake wave. And remember this hostage is not a Brazilian citizen; in fact not even a Terrestrial. While I sympathize with the young lady and my men are brave, imagine the political capital my enemies would make of my causing a score of Brazilians to be killed for the sake of one extra-terrestrial!”

“But—” said Graham.

Vasconcellos held up a hand. “I know what you are going to say, but I fear I can do nothing. Ascension Island is not under Brazilian jurisdiction—”

“Brazil handles the mail for it.”

“But that is not sovereignty. When the March contract is fulfilled the sovereignty of the island will revert to the World Federation until the land is reclaimed and settled, but in the meantime Ascension is an independent nation. Nobody could stop Senhor March from selling it to the Martians if he wished, except that he has already contracted to sell it to you gentlemen.”

Graham and Varnipaz sat in gloomy silence until Varnipaz said: “Since the island was originally British, I should think Great Britain would have a certain responsibility for it whether they want to or not. Could we, therefore, fly to Britain for help? Which way is it from here?”

Graham shook his head. “It’s a third of the way around the Earth, and they’d give us the same sort of run-around.”

“I must say,” said Varnipaz, “I am getting a poor opinion of this so-called civilized planet. Brazil will not help us for this reason; Great Britain for that; the World Federation for another. If this were Krishna I should organize my own expedition. In fact I should do it here except that there is no time.”

At this point the handsome young Lieutenant Gil spoke up, addressing his chief in such fast Portuguese that Graham could not understand a word of it.

After Gil finished, Vasconcellos said: “Perhaps all is not lost, senhores. My aide here has reminded me that we have to make training flights anyway, and that we were about to send one of our large rescue ’planes on a long flight over the ocean for navigational practice. Now if you and Senhor Reinhold would care to risk an attack on the island by yourselves, we could drop you by rotochute—”

“That will suit me,” said Varnipaz.

Graham found the prospect of attacking a group of—he didn’t know how many men—perhaps a score—an alarming one, but since he could not let his rival outdo him in gallantry, he nodded.

“And me too!” exclaimed Gil. “I want to volunteer for this expedition! I am tired of papers; I am tired of reports; I am tired of this filthy routine. I want to see some action before I die.
Por favor,
General . . .”

“Paciencia,
my little one,” said Vasconcellos. “If this plan goes through you shall have your chance. Could you be ready to leave by tomorrow noon?”

“Too late,” said Graham. “Why not tonight?”

The general looked at his watch. “That would take some doing, but perhaps we can manage it. I know; we can drop you tonight and then return tomorrow morning to pick you up, if you are still alive and the island has not been all washed away. I have it! If an earthquake wave hits the Rock, we can land some of our men there as a humanitarian act to relieve the victims of a natural catastrophe. Our authorization extends to such emergencies.”

Graham asked: “Then why couldn’t you land men there before the catastrophe, to forestall it?”

Vasconcellos shook his head. “Not legal, I grieve to say. My predecessor got in trouble with the legislature for doing just that. But we will do what we can. Let me see: You will need some equipment, but I cannot just hand you a few thousand contos’ worth of liferafts, guns, and the like. What I can do is to give you a contract with the Office of Research, under which they lend you the equipment, and you promise not only to return it if possible, but also to write technical reports on how it worked. Is that agreeable?”

Graham and Varnipaz nodded.

“Good,” said Vasconcellos. “Gil, take these visitors to the office of the Quartermaster General and see that some competent officer is assigned to help them choose equipment. Then draw up an engineering test contract and walk it through the Office of Research. It is an order that nobody in this building goes home tonight until the last paper is signed. That ought to get results. And call Captain Dantas about that navigation flight. I want these people delivered on the Rock before tomorrow morning . . .”

VIII.

Lieutenant Manoel Gil squinted through the infrared viewer of the machine gun and said: “Have you gentlemen ever done rotochute jumps before?”

“N-no,” said Graham, thinking he need not add that he hoped never to again. Although he considered himself, and justly, as quite an accomplished athlete, jumping out of airplanes had never attracted him.

So far everything had gone according to schedule. At times, though, he had to confess to a secret wish that the ’plane would break down or the red tape get fouled up to prevent the expedition from setting out at all. At the same time he burned to rescue Jeru-Bhetiru, and the conflict of emotions made him most unhappy. And here he was, in borrowed Brazilian Federal Police boots, shirt, and pants, crouching in the dimly lit fuselage of the ’plane, watching Gil check over the other borrowed equipment and listening to the monotonous whine of the engines.

“Then,” said Gil ominously, “you had better precede me, so I can make sure you jump.”

Sklar looked at his watch. Graham wondered if Sklar’s face, which he could see only dimly, was as pale as his own felt.

“When are we due?” asked Sklar.

“Any time now,” said Gil. “Remember, we must all go out in a hurry, or we’ll be scattered all over that filthy island and never find each other. Do you all know your maps?”

Graham took another look at his. Georgetown lay on the northwest coast south of that northern peninsula. On the east side of the peninsula a pencil mark showed where Teófilo March had his turtle farm. They would try to drop on the east coast about a kilometer south of this point.”

Graham said: “As I understand it, you’re going to cache the raft on the east coast. That’s the windward side, since it’s in the p-path of the southeast trades. Wouldn’t it be better for us to try to take off from the lee side?”

Gil shook his head. “No. There is something about the bottom formation on the west side of Ascension that gives the worst rollers you ever saw. Three, four meters high. It would take a trained coastguard crew to get through them.”