Текст книги "A Time to Die"

Автор книги: Wilbur Smith

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 31 (всего у книги 38 страниц)

Sean waited a few moments longer, then turned abruptly and ducked out through the entrance. Only after he was gone did China lift his head and smile after him, a gloating little smile which, if Sean had seen it, would have answered his question.

Alphonso's men had worked quickly. The fiberglass stretcher was one of those lightweight body-molded types used by mountain rescue teams. Nonetheless it would require four men to carry it over rough ground, and they had a long, hard path to the border.

"Less than a hundred kilometers and not that hard," Sean reassured himself. "Two days, if we push it."

Claudia greeted him with relief. "Job seems stronger. He was conscious, asking for you. He said something about a hill. Hill Thirty-one?"

Sean flickered a smile. "That's where we met. He's wandering a little. Help me to get him onto the stretcher."

Between them they lifted Job gently and settled him onto the stretcher. Sean rigged the drip set on a wire frame above his head and tucked looted gray woolen blankets around him.

"Matatu," he said as he stood up. "Take us home." And he gestured to the first team of stretcher bearers to take their positions.

It was less than two hours since sunrise, but they seemed to have lived an entire lifetime in that short period, Sean thought as he glanced back at the hilltop laager. Streamers of smoke drifted from its crest, and the last column of General China's porters was disappearing into the forest below it, all heavily laden with booty.

The distant sounds of battle had finally dwindled into silence.

The halfhearted Frefirno counterattack had long since fizzled out, and China was withdrawing his forces into the bad ground below the Pungwe River.

As Sean watched, the captured Hind helicopter rose slowly out ng above the hill on its glistening rotor;

0 1 em , then abrul i [y it dipped toward them, the sound of its engine crescendoc 1, and suddenly Sean was staring into the multiple mouths of the Gatling cannon in its nose.

As it raced toward him, he recognized China's face behind the armored glass canopy. He was perched in the flight engineer's seat, at the controls of the 12.7-men cannon. Sean saw the barrels of the cannon swing slightly, coming on to aim. The Hind was only fifty feet above them, so close he could see China's teeth flash in his dark face as he smiled.

Their little column had not reached the edge of the forest. There was no cover, no protection from the blast of that terrible weapon, and instinctively Sean reached out and drew Claudia to him, trying to shield her with his own body.

Above them General China lifted his right hand in an ironic salute, and the Hind banked steeply away into the northwest, dwindled swiftly to a speck, and was gone. They all stared after it silently, seized by a sense of anticlimax, until Sean broke the spell.

"Let's go, brethren!" And once again the stretcher bearers started forward at an easy jog trot, very softly singing one of the ancient marching songs.

Scouting ahead of them, Matatu came across a few scattered parties of Frehmo assault troops, but they were all in headlong retreat from the river wilderness. After the loss of their air support the Frefirno offensive seemed to have collapsed completely and the situation was fluid and confused. Although they were forced to detour further northward than Sean had planned, Matatu steered them out of contact with any Frelimo and the stretcher bearers were rotated regularly so they made swift progress.

At nightfall they stopped to cat and rest. Alphonso made the scheduled radio contact with Renamo headquarters and gave them a position report. He received only a laconic acknowledgement without change of orders. They feasted on canned goods looted from the Russian stores and smoked the perfumed Balkan tobacco in yellow cigarette paper with hollow cardboard filters.

Job was conscious again and complained in a husky whisper, "There is a lion gnawing on my shoulder." Sean injected an ampule of morphine into Rob's drip set, and it eased him so he was even able to eat a fe mouthfuls of the bland-tasting tinned meat.

However, his thirst was far greater than his hunger, and Sean held his head and helped him get down two full mugs of the surprisingly good Russian coffee.

Sean and Claudia sat beside the fitter and waited for the moon in through the Honde Valley again." Sean to rise. "We are going told Job. "Once we get you to Saint Mary's Mission you'll be fine.

One of the Catholic fathers is a doctor, and I'll be able to sen a message to my brother Garry in Johannesburg. I'll ask him to send the company jet to Urntafi. We'll fly you into Johannesburg General Hospital before you know what's hit you, mate. There you'll get the best medical attention in the world."

When the moon rose, they went on. It was almost midnight before Sean called a halt for the night. He made a mattress of cut grass beside Job's litter, and as Claudia drifted off to sleep in his arms, he whispered to her, "Tomorrow night I'll give you a hot bath and put you between clean sheets."

Promise?" she sighed.

"Cross my heart."

From deeply ingrained habit, he woke an hour before first light and went to rouse the sentries for dawn standby. Alphonso threw aside his blanket, stood up, and fell in beside him. When they had made the sentry round, they paused on the edge of the camp and Alphonso offered him one of the Russian cigarettes. They smoked from cupped hands, shielding the glow of burning tobacco.

"What you told me about South Africa, is it true?" Alphonso asked unexpectedly.

J "What did I tell you?"

"That men, even black men, eat meat every day?"

Sean smiled in the darkness, amused by Alphonso's concept of paradise, a place where a man could eat meat every day. "Sometimes they get so sick of eating beef," he teased, "that they try chicken and lamb just for a change."

Alphonso shook his head. That was beyond belief-, no African could ever tire of beef.

"How much does a black man earn in South Africa?" he demanded.

About five hundred rand a month if he is an ordinary unskilled laborer, but there are many black millionaires,." Five hundred rand was more than a man earned in Mozambique in a year, even if he were lucky enough to find employment. A million was a figure beyond Alphonso's powers of imagination.

"Five hundred?" He shook his head in wonder. "And paid in rands, not paper escudos or Zimbabwe dollars?" he demanded earnestly.

"Rands," Sean confirmed. Compared to other African currencies, the rand was as good as a gold sovereign.

"And there are things in the stores, things for a man to buy with his rands?" Alphonso demanded suspiciously. It was difficult lo r him to visualize shelves laden with goods for sale, other than a few pathetic bottles of locally produced carbonated soft drinks and packets of cheap cigarettes.

"Whatever you want," Sean assured him. "Soap and sugar, cooking oil, and maize meal." Half-forgotten luxuries in Alphonso's mind.

"As much as I want?" he asked. "No rationing?"

"As much as you can pay for," Sean assured him. "And when sistor your belly is full, you can buy shoes and suits and ties, transister radios and dark glasses-"

"A bicycle?" Alphonso demanded eagerly.

"Only the very lowest men ride bicycles." Sean grinned, enjoying himself. "The others have their own motorcars."

"Black men own their own motorcars?" Alphonso thought about that for a long time. "Would there be work for a man like me?" he asked with a diffidence that was completely out of character.

You?" Sean pretended to consider it, and Alphonso waited apprehensively for his judgment. "You?" Sean repeated. "My brother owns a gold mine. You could be a supervisor on his mine within a year, a shift boss in two years. I could get you a job the same day you arrived at the mine."

"How much does a supervisor earn?"

"thousand, two thousand," Sean assured him. Alphonso was A stunned. His Renamo pay was the equivalent of a rand a day, paid in Mozambican escudos.

"I would like to be a boss supervisor," he murmured thoughtfully.

ant?" Sean teased. Alphonso char' Better than a Renamo serge tied derisively.

"Of course, in South Africa you would not have the vote," Sean efaces get to vote."

ribbed him. "Only pal Vote, what is a vote?" Alphonso demanded, then answered t have the himself. "I don't have a vote in Mozambique. They don" vote in Zambia or Zimbabwe or Angola or Tanzania. Nobody has the vote in Africa, except. perhaps once in a man's life to elect a president-for-life and a one-party government." He shook his head and snorted. "Vote? You can't eat a vote. You can't dress in a or ride to work on it. F or two thousand rand a month and vote, a full belly you can have my vote."

"Anytime you come to South Africa, You come and see me."

d see the trees against Sean stretched and looked at the sky. He could it. Dawn was only a short time away. He crushed out the butt of the cigarette and began to get to his feet.

"There is something I must tell you," Alphonso whispered. His altered tone caught Sean's full attention.

"Yes?" He squatted down again and leaned closer to the Shangane.

Alphonso cleared his throat in embarrassment. "We have traveled a long road together," he murmured.

"A long, hard road," Sean agreed. "But the end is in sight. This time tomorrow-" He did not have to go on, and Alphonso did not reply immediately.

"We have fought side by side," Alphonso said at last.

"Like lions," Sean confirmed.

"I have called you Babo and Nkosi Kakulu."

"You have honored me thus," Sean said formally. "And I have called you friend."

Alphonso nodded in the darkness. "I cannot let you cross the Zimbabwean border," he said with sudden decisiveness, and Sean rocked back on his heels.

"Tell me why not."

"You remember Cuthbert?" Alphonso asked.

It took Sean a moment to place the name. "Cuthbert, you mean the one from Grand Reef air base? The one who helped us on the raid?" It all seemed so long ago.

"General China's nephew." Alphonso nodded. "That is the one I speak of."

"Sammy Davis Junior." Sean smiled. "The cool laid-back cat.

I remember him well."

"General China spoke to him on the radio. This very morning from the laager of the hen shaw after our victory. I was in the outer room of the bunker. I heard everything he said."

Sean felt a cold wind blow down his spine, and the hair at the base of his skull prickled. "What did China tell him?" he asked dreading the reply.

"He ordered Cuthbert to let the Zimbabwean Army know that it was you who led the raid on Grand Reef and stole the indeki full of missiles. He told Cuthbert to tell them that you would be ssing k into Zimbabwe through the Honde Valley at Saint ary's Mission, and they must wait for you there."

Sean's gut knotted with shock, and for long moments he was stunned by the enormity and cunning of the trap China had prepared for him. The cruelty of it was diabolical. To allow them to believe they were being set free, to let them taste the relief of crossing out of harm, when in fact they were going to a fate even worse than China himself could have meted out to them.

The fury of the Zimbabwean high command would know no bounds. Sean was the holder of a Zimbabwean passport, a document of convenience but one that would make him a traitor and murderer beyond any help from outside. He would be handed over to the notorious Zimbabwe Central Intelligence Organization and taken to the interrogation cells at Chikarubi prison, and he would never emerge from there alive. Job, despite his wounds, would share the same fate.

Even though Claudia was an American citizen, officially she no longer existed. It was weeks since she had been reported missing.

By this time, interest in her case, even at the U.S. embassies in Harare and Pretoria, would have cooled. Along with her father, she was presumed dead, so she could expect no protection. She was as vulnerable as they were.

The trap was completely closed; there was no way out. The Renamo army behind them, Frelimo on either hand, and the Zimbabwe CIO ahead of them. They were marooned in a devastated wasteland, doomed to be hunted down Ike wild animals or to starve slowly in the wilderness.

"Think!" Sean told himself. "Find the way out."

They could attempt to cross the Zimbabwean border at some other point than the Honde Valley, but the CIO would have the entire country alerted for them. There were permanent army blocks on every road. Without papers they wouldn't get more than a few miles, and then there was Job–what would he do with Job?

wounded man when every police and How could they transport a r somebody in a stretchers military post would be looking lo we must go southward," Alphonso said. "We must go to South Africa."we?" Sean stared at him. "You want to come with us?"

"I can't go back to General China," he pointed out philosophwill come with you to betrayed him. I ically. "Not after I have South Africa."

"That's a trek of three hundred miles, through two Opposed armies, Frefimo and the southern division of Renamo. And what ut Job?"

abO 99

"We will carry him , Alphonso replied.

"Three hundred miles"

"Then we will leave Sin behind." Alphonso shrugged. "He is only a Matabele and he is dying anyway. It will be no great loss."

Sean caught the angry words that rose to his tongue and re silent while he thought it out. Every way he twisted it and mained examined it, he saw that Alphonso was right. To the north the dubious haven of Malawi was blocked by the waters of Cabora he east lay the Indian Bossa and by General China's division. To t Ocean, and to the west the Zimbabwe

CIO.

t," Sean admitted reluctantly. "South is the only way.

righ Frefimo and the south Perhaps we can squeeze through between heavily em division of Renanio. All we have to do is get across a guarded railway line and the Limpopo River and find enough to eat while we are doing it in a land that has been burned and devastated by ten years of civil war."

"In South Africa we will eat meat every day," Alphonso pointed out cheerfully.

Sean stood up. "Will your men follow you?"

"I will kill those that don't." Alphonso was matter-of-fact. "We can't let them go back to General China."

"Right," Sean agreed. "And you will report on the radio schedule that I have crossed into Zimbabwe. We'll be able to string China along on the radio for four or five days. He won't realize that we have broken away southward until we are well on our way and beyond his range. You had better talk to your men now. We'll have to turn south right away. Talk to them before they realize for themselves that we are up to something."

Alphonso called in the sentries, and in the gray light of dawn the faces of the Shanganes were sober and intent as they squatted in a circle around him and listened to Alphonso describe the southern paradise to which he would lead them.

"We are all weary of fighting, of living like animals in the bush.

It is time we learned to live like men, to find good wives to bear our sons." He was filled with the fiery eloquence of the recent convert, and before he had finished Sean saw the sparkle of anticipation in most of their eyes and felt a lift of relief. For the first time he began to believe the journey ahead might just be possible, with a great deal of endeavor and an even greater deal of luck.

He went to tell Claudia and Job what lay ahead. Claudia was bathing Job's face with a damp rag. "He's much better, a good night's rest." She broke off as she saw his face. Her spirits visibly Plummeted as he explained what they had to do.

"It was too good to be true," she whispered. "I knew deep down it wouldn't be that easy, that General China wasn't Santa Claus in disguise."

Job lay so stiff on his stretcher that Sean thought he had once again slipped over the edge of consciousness, and he reached out to check his pulse. At his touch Job opened his eyes.

"Can you trust those Shanganes?" he whispered.

"We don't have much choice," Sean pointed out and then went on briskly, "We-"

"Leave me here." Job's whisper was barely audible, but Sean's expression hardened and his voice was brittle with anger.

"Cut out that sort of bullshit," he warned Job.

"Without me you might have a chance," Job insisted. "If you have to drag this stretcher-"

"We've got twelve hefty Shanganes," Sean pointed out.

"Better some of you get through than all of us die. Leave me, Sean. Save Claudia and yourself."

1419 in getting angry." Sean stood up and said to Claudia, "We leave in ten minutes."

They traveled cautiously southward all that day. It was an intense relief not to have to watch the sky for the Hind gunships, although out of habit the Shanganes occasionally turned their faces upward. The closer they drew to the railway fine, the slower their progress became, and they spent much of their time hiding in the dense wild ebony thickets and clumps of jesse until Matatu came ghosting back to assure them the coast was clear and lead them onward.

In the late afternoon Sean left the main party hiding in a bushy. and went forward with Matatu. He was gone for almost two ravine hours, and the sun was setting when he reappeared silently and suddenly at Claudia's side.

"You startled me!" she gasped. "You're like a cat."

"The railway line is only a mile ahead. The Frehmo guards seem itary traffic to be in a state of confusion still. There is a lot of mil on the line and a great deal of panicky activity all around. The crossing is going to be a trifle tricky. As soon as the moon comes up, I'll go up and take another look."

While they waited for the moon, Alphonso rigged the radio aerial and made his scheduled contact with General China's headquarters.

"The dove is in flight." He gave the prearranged code so China would believe that Sean and his party had crossed the border.

After a brief pause, presumably while he relayed the message, the radio operator came back to Alphonso with the order to return to river.

Alphonso acknowledged and signed off.

the main base on the "They won't expect nw'to arrive back for another two days."

Alphonso grinned as he packed up the radio. "It will be that long before they start getting suspicious."

As the moon pushed its bald silver pate above the trees, Sean and Matatu slipped away into the forest to make a final reconnaissance of the railway line. A mile south of their position they found the place where the line crossed a narrow stream. Although the stream contained only a few shallow puddles, the banks were thick with riverine bush that would afford them good cover. Originally the bush must have been cleared for a hundred yards on each side of the line, but secondary growth had been allowed to spring up to waist height. 391

"Sloppy Frelinio bastards" Scan muttered. "That will give us some cover, and we'll stay in the river-bed."

The main line crossed the stream over an embankment and culvert. There was a guard post on the approaches, fifty yards up track from the culvert. While Sean watched through his bmocuIan, a Frelimo sentry, his AK rifle slung on his back, sauntered ! ! down to the bridge over the culvert. He leaned on the guardrail and fit a cigarette. The glow of the cigarette marked his progress as he ambled back to the guard post. He seemed to Sean to be a little unsteady on his feet, and when he reached the guard post, a faint ripple of fenumne giggles carried to where Sean and Matatu lay.

"They are having a party," Sean chuckled.

"Palm wine and jig-jig," Matatu agreed enviously. In the moonlight he held up his right hand with his thumb trapped between his first two fingers. "I would like some of that myself "You randy little bugger." Sean tweaked his ear. "When we get to Johannesburg, I'll stand you to the biggest, fattest lady we can Bush out." Matatu's taste in amour ran to the mountainous. "Like Sherpa Tensing on Everest," Sean often remarked.

The distractions with which the railway guards had provided themselves promised to make their crossing easier. Sean and Matatu withdrew quietly and started back to where they had left the rest of the party.

They had been gone for three hours, and it was a few minutes before midnight as they approached the camp. At the head of the ravine Sean paused to give the recognition signal, the liquid warble of a fiery-necked nightjar. He didn't want to be shot by one of Alphonso's Shanganes. He waited a full minute for the reply.

When it did not come, he repeated the signal. Still there was silence, and he felt the first tickle of alarm.

Instead of going straight in, they circled the ravine cautiously, and in the moonlight Matatu picked up unexpected spoor and squatted over it, frowning with alarm.

Sean whispered. "Who? Which way?"

"Many men, our own Shanganes!" Matatu lifted his head and pointed to the north. "They are going out, leaving camp."

"Outgoing?" Sean was puzzled. "Doesn't make sense, unless–I Oh, God!

No!"

Swiftly, quietly, he closed in on the camp. The sentries he had set before he left were gone, their posts deserted. Sean felt panic rise in a wave that threatened to suffocate him.

"Claudia!" he whispered, suppressing the urge to shout her name aloud. He wanted to rush into the camp and fiW her, but he drew a series of deep breaths and fought back the panic.

He slipped the AKM on to fully automatic and went down on his belly, creeping in. The five Shanganes he had left asleep in the of the ravine were gone, and all their equipment and weapons gut had disappeared. He went on and made out the shape of Job's stretcher in the dappled moonlight; beside it, exactly as he had left her, was Claudia's body wrapped in a blanket, but just beyond her another body lay sprawled. In the moonlight he saw the sheen of wetness on the back of the man's head.

"Blood!"

Sean threw all caution aside and rushed to Claudia's body, dropping to his knees beside her and sweeping her into his arms.

She gasped and cried out, coming out of a deep sleep. She began to struggle in his arms, then quieted as she realized who he was.

"Sean!" she blurted, still groggy with sleep. "What is it? What "Thank God," he murmured fervently. "I thought-!" He set her down gently, and reached across to where Job lay in the litter.

"Job, are you all right?" He shook him carefully, and Job stirred and murmured.

Sean jumped to his feet and went to where Alphonso lay. He touched his neck. The skin was warm, his pulse strong and even.

"Claudia!" he called. "Bring the flashlight."

In the beam of the flashlight he examined the laceration in Alphonso's scalp. "A-nice little ding," he grunted. Although the bleeding had stanched spontaneously, he pressed a field dressing over it and bound it in place. "Good thing they hit him on the head, or they might have done some serious damage." He grinned wryly at his own joke.

"What happened, Sean?" Claudia demanded anxiously. "I was fast asleep. I didn't heat a thing."

"Lucky for you." Sean tied the tag ends of the bandage. "Or you might have got thesaine treatment."

"What happened? Where are the others?"

"Gone," he told her. "Flown, deserted. They obviously didn't fancy the walk or the destination. They bashed Alphonso on the noggin and took off back to General China."

She stared at him. "You mean there are only the four of us now.?

All the Shanganes except Alphonso have gone?"

"That's right," Sean agreed. Alphonso groaned and reached up to touch his bandaged head. Sean helped him sit up.

"Sean!" Claudia tugged at his arm and he turned back to her.

"What are we going to do?" Sean glanced across at Job's stretcher.

I" going to do with Job? How are we going to carry him? How are we going to get out of here now/P" 90 "That, My love, is an extremely interesting question, Sean tell you is that by this time tomorrow, our know that we are on the run, and

"We don't seem to have us-we keep on the way we are going."

one road still open to He hauled Alphonso to his feet.

"that's impossible, "Claudia whispered anxiously. "Two of YOU cannot carry the stretcher-" some other or' You right, of course. we'll have to make rangement."

Between them they lifted Job out of the fiberglass stretcher and laid him on Claudia's blanket. Then, while the Others watched, had finished, Sean began to dismantle the stretcher. Before he Matatu appeared silently out of the darkness and whispered a brief report to Sean.

Sean barely looked up as he told Alphonso, "You taught them well. Your Shanganes have bomb shelled taken off in eleven different directions. If we followed, we might catch one or two of them, but some of them are going to get back to China with the good news."

Alphonso cursed the deserters bitterly, while Sean explained to Claudia and Job, "I'm going to use the nylon webbing from the stretcher to improvise a sling seat."

Claudia looked dubious. "Job isn't strong enough to sit upright.

lee ding–2" She broke The movement will reopen his wound, the b off as Sean glared at her.

"Can you think of a better way?" he snarled, and she shook her head.

Sean doubled the length of heavy green canvas and took the rifle and Alphonso's AK to make carrying loops.

slings from his AKM ted, 1"14 "-We'll have to make adjustments as we go along," he grun "Instead of finding difficulties, make your then looked at Claudia.

self useful by gathering all the equipment the Shanganes left. We'll have to make a selection."

quipment swiftly, discarding all but the most He picked out the e tween us. On vital pieces. "Alphonso and I will be carrying Job be that we'll only be able to manage our basic weapons and a top of blanket each. Claudia and Matatu must lug the medical pack, the water bottles, and a blanket each. Everything else will be left behind."

we are headed."

are we going to do?"

choice," he said. "There is only The canned food?" Claudia asked.

Forget it," Sean told her brusquely. He set about apportioning their loads, cutting everything down to the barest minimum, knowing every pound of weight now would seem like ten after the first few miles. He even made Alphonso abandon his AK rifle and gave him the pistol he had taken from the Russian pilot to replace it. He restricted himself to two spare clips of ammunition for his own AKM, and he and Alphonso retained only a pair of grenades each, one fragmentation and the other phosphorus.

They piled the abandoned equipment in the bottom of the ravine and covered it with loose earth and branches to conceal it from casual discovery by a Frehmo patrol.

"Okay, lad," Sean told Job. "Time to go." He glanced at his wristwatch and found it was a little before three o'clock. They were well behind schedule, and they only had a few hours of darkness left in which to make the crossing.

He knelt beside Job and eased him up into a sitting position, then re strapped his injured arm firmly against his chest.

"This is the bad part," he warned him, and between them he and Alphonso lifted Job to his feet. Job endured the movement in stoic silence and stood supported between them.

Sean and Alphonso adjusted the nylon sling seat over their outer shoulders. They lifted Job into it, and he sat with his feet dangling, his good arm draped around Sean's shoulder, while Sean and Alphonso linked their arms behind his back to support him.

"Ready?" Sean asked. Job grunted softly, trying to conceal the pain that every movement caused him.

"If you think it's bad now"–Sean warned him cheerfully' just give it a couple of hours!"

They started down the ravine toward the railway line. They moved slowly, accustoming themselves to this awkward form of travel. They tried to cushion Job between them, but they stumbled over the broken groun4and Job swung on his seat and bumped against them. He math no sound, but Sean heard his ragged breathing close to. Ills ear, and when the pain stabbed him especially cruelly, he unconsciously dug his fingers into Sean's shoulder.

Slowly they moved down the shallow streambed toward the culvert beneath the railway line. Matatu was a hundred yards ahead of them, just visible in the moonlight. Once he signaled them to halt and then after a few minutes beckoned them to come on.

Claudia trailed fifty paces behind them so she would have a start if they were discovered and forced to run back.

Carrying Job between them, it was not possible for Sean and Alphonso to move silently. Once they splashed into one of the muddy pools of the stream, and they sounded like a herd of cavorting hippos in the silence.

Matatu had reached the culvert ahead of them, and he signaled them frantically to hurry. They staggered forward under Job's weight and were in the open, when on the embankment above them there was a sudden crunch of footsteps in the gravel and a sound of voices.

Trying to keep low, they kept going at a clumsy run. They reached the culvert and carried Job into the dark concrete tunnel.

ly a few yards behind them, Claudia was running doubled over on and Sean reached back with his free hand and dragged her in out of the pale moonlight into the blessed darkness of the culvertk They leaned against the concrete wan, stooped below the curved roof, trying to quiet their breathing, all of them panting wildly from the charge through the mud and sand of the stream bottom. K The footsteps and voices above them grew louder and finally stopped almost directly overhead. It sounded like a man and a an. The Frelimo garrison had either brought their own camp worn followers with them or had found lady friends in the refugee camps that had sprung up along the guarded railway fine.

s There was a spirited argument going on out there, the man" voice slurred with drink and the woman's shrill and shrewish as she protested and haggled. At last they heard the man's voice raised in exasperation. "Dollar shwni, ten dollars," he said. Immediately the woman's voice softened and cooed agreement.

Then there was the sound of feet sliding in gravel and a few pebbles rattled down the embankment in the streambed. "They are coming down here!" Claudia breathed in horror, and they instinctively drew back deeper into the dark culvert.

"Quiet!" Sean whispered, and stooped to case Job out of the canvas sling and prop him against the wall of the culvert.