Border, Breed Nor Birth Part 6
Homer said mildly, "That's why your pay was doubled. You have to take risks to make money in this world, Cliff. If El Ha.s.san does come to power, undoubtedly you'll get other raises--along with greater responsibility."
He looked into Cliff Jackson's face, and although his words had dealt with money, a man's dream looked out from his eyes. And the force of personality that could emanate from Homer Crawford, possibly unbeknownst to himself, flooded over the huge Californian. The others in the room could feel it. Elmer Allen cleared his throat; Isobel held her elbows to her sides, in a feminine protest against naked male psychic strength.
Kenny Ballalou said without inflection, "Put up or shut up, Cliff old pal."
Cliff Jackson sank back onto the spot on the bed he'd occupied before.
"I'm in," he muttered, so softly as hardly to be heard.
"None of you are in," a voice from the doorway said.
The figure that stood there held a thin, but heavy calibered automatic in his hand.
He was a dapper man, neat, trim, smart. His clothes were those of Greater Washington, rather than Dakar and West Africa. His facial expression seemed overly alert, overly bright, and his features were more Caucasian than Negroid.
He said, "I believe you all know me. Fredric Ostrander."
"Of the Central Intelligence Agency," Homer Crawford said dryly. He as well as Bey, Elmer and Kenny had risen to their feet when the newcomer entered from the smaller of the hut's two rooms. "What's the gun for, Ostrander?"
"You're under arrest," the C.I.A. man said evenly.
Elmer Allen snorted. "Under whose authority are you working? As a Jamaican, I'm a citizen of the West Indies and a subject of Her Majesty."
"We'll figure that out later," Ostrander rapped. "I'm sure the appropriate Commonwealth authorities will co-operate with the State Department and the Reunited Nations in this matter." The gun unwaveringly went from one of them to the other, retraced itself.
Bey looked at Homer Crawford.
Crawford shook his head gently.
He said to the newcomer, "The question still stands, Ostrander. Under whose authority are you operating? I don't think you have jurisdiction over us. We're in Africa, not in the United States of the Americas."
Ostrander said tightly, "Right now I'm operating under the authority of this weapon in my hand. Dr. Crawford. Do you realize that all of you Americans here are risking your citizenship?"
Kenny Ballalou said, "Oh? Tell us more, Mr. State Department man."
"You're serving in the armed forces of a foreign power."
Even the dour Elmer Allen laughed at that one.
Crawford said, "The fact of the matter is, we _are_ the foreign power."
"You're not amusing, Dr. Crawford," Ostrander said. "I've kept up with this situation since you had that conference in Timbuktu. The State Department has no intention of allowing some opportunist, backed by known communists and fellow travelers, to seize power in this portion of the world. In a matter of months the Soviets would be in here."
Isobel said evenly, "I was formerly a member of the Party. I no longer am. I am an active opponent of the Soviet Complex at the moment, especially in regard to its activity in Africa."
Ostrander snorted his disbelief.
Elmer Allen said, "You chaps never forget, do you?" He looked at the others and explained. "Back during college days, I signed a few peace pet.i.tions, that sort of thing. Ever since, every time I come in contact with these people, you'd think I was Lenin or Trotsky."
Homer Crawford said, "My opinion is, Ostrander, that you've had to move too quickly to check back with your superiors. Has the State Department actually instructed you to arrest me and my companions here on foreign soil, without a warrant?"
Ostrander clipped, "That's my responsibility. I'm taking you all in.
We'll solve such problems as jurisdiction and warrants when I get you to the Reunited Nations headquarters."
"Ah?" Homer Crawford said. "And then what happens to us?"
Ostrander jiggled the gun, impatiently. "Sven Zetterberg is of the opinion that you should immediately be flown out of Africa and the case brought before the High Council of the African Development Project. What measures will be taken beyond that point I have no way of knowing."
Bey took a step to the left, Kenny Ballalou one to the right. Homer Crawford remained immediately before the C.I.A. operative, his hands slightly out from his sides, palms slightly forward.
Ostrander snapped, "I'm prepared to fire, you men. I don't underestimate the importance of this situation. If your crazy scheme makes any progress at all, it might well result in the death of thousands. I know your background, Crawford. You once taught judo in the Marines. I'm not unfamiliar with the art myself."
Isobel had a hand to her mouth, her eyes were wide. "Boys, don't ..."
she began.
Elmer Allen had been leaning on his pilgrim's staff, as though weary with this whole matter. He said to Ostrander, interestedly, "So you've been checked out on judo? Know anything about the use of the quarterstaff?"
Ostrander kept his gun traversing between the four of them. "Eh?" he said.
Elmer Allen shifted his grip on his staff infinitesimally. Of a sudden, the end of the staff, now gripped with both hands near the center, moved at invisibly high speed. There was a crack of the wrist bone, and the gun went flying. The other end of the staff flicked out and rapped the C.I.A. operative smartly on the head.
Fredric Ostrander crumbled to the floor.
"Confound it, Elmer," Crawford said. "What'd you have to go and do that for? I wanted to talk to him some more and send a message back to Zetterberg. Sooner or later we've got to make our peace with the Reunited Nations."
Elmer said embarra.s.sedly, "Sorry, it just happened. I was merely going to knock the gun out of his hand, but then I couldn't help myself. I was tired of hearing that holier-than-thou voice of his."
Kenny Ballalou looked down at the fallen man gloomily. "He'll be out for an hour. You're lucky you didn't crack his skull."
"Holy Mackerel," Cliff Jackson said. "I'm going to have to learn to operate one of those things."
Elmer Allen handed him the supposed pilgrim's staff. "Best hand-to-hand combat weapon ever invented," he said. "The British yeoman's quarterstaff. Of course, this is a modernized version. Made of epoxy resin gla.s.s-fiber material, treated to look like wood. That stuff can turn a high-velocity bullet, let alone a sword, and it can be bent in a ninety degree arc without the slightest effect, although it'd take a power-driven testing machine to do it."
"All right, all right," Homer said. "We haven't got time for lessons in the use of the quarterstaff. Let's put some thought to this situation. If Ostrander here was able to find us, somebody else would, too."
Isobel licked the side of her mouth. "He was probably following me.
Remember, I told you Homer?"
Kenny said, "If he had anyone with him, he'd have brought them along to cover him. You've got to give him credit for bravery, taking on the whole bunch of us by himself."
"Um-m-m," Homer said. "I wish he was with us instead of against us."
Jake Armstrong said, "Well, this solves one problem."
They looked at him.