Elephant Song - Smith Wilbur (книги бесплатно без онлайн txt) 📗

Kelly knelt in front of the radio set, gently manipulating the fine-tuning knob of, the receiver.  Although her transmitter did not have the range to reach the capital of Kahali on the lakeshore, Sepoo had climbed into the silk-cotton tree above her and strung the aerial wire from the top branches.  She was picking up the transmission of Radio Ubomo on the twenty-five metre band with very little atmospheric disturbance.  This next request is for Miriam Seboki of Kabute who is eighteen years old today, from your boy friend, Abdullah, who wishes you many happy returns and says he loves you very much.  He has requested, "Like a Virgin" by Madonna, so here it is just for you, Miriam.  The harsh cacophony of the music was aberrant in the forest silences and Kelly turned down the volume.  immediately she was aware of other sounds even more obscene, the distant fusillade of gunfire and the wild screams of fighting and dying men.

She tried to blot the sounds from her mind, tried to calm her anxiety and fear for the progress of the rising.  She waited, powerless and afraid, for something to happen.

Suddenly the music was cut off, and the only sound from the speaker was the whistle and crackle of static.  Then abruptly a new voice came on the air.  People of Ubomo.  This station is now under the control of the Freedom Army of Ubomo.  We bring you the President of Ubomo, Victor Omeru, speaking to you in person from the radio studio in Kahali.

There was a burst of martial music, the old national anthem, that Ephrem Taffari had banned when he seized power.  Then the music ended.

There was a pause and at last the thrilling voice that Kelly loved so well reverberated from the speaker.  My beloved people of Ubomo, you who have suffered so much beneath the yoke of the oppressor, this is Victor Omeru.

I know that most of you believed that I was dead.  But this is not a voice from the grave.  It is indeed i, Victor Omeru, who call upon you now.  - Victor was speaking in Swahili, and he went on, I bring you tidings of hope and of great joy.  Ephrem Taffari, the bloody tyrant, is dead.  A loyal and true band of patriots has overthrown his cruel and brutal regime and given him the punishment he so justly deserves.

Come forth, my people, a new sun rises over Ubomo.  His voice was so compelling, so sincere, that for a moment Kelly almost believed what he was saying, that Taffari was already dead and the revolution was secure.

Then she heard the sound of gunfire and she glanced over her shoulder.

There was a man standing close to her.  He had come up soundlessly behind her.  He was an Asian, almost certainly Chinese.  He wore a blue safari suit damp with rain or sweat and stained with mud and blood.

His long straight black hair hung down over his forehead.  There was a shallow cut in his cheek from which the blood had dripped to stain the front of his jacket.

He carried a Tokarev pistol in one hand, and there was a wild and hunted look in his eyes, eyes so dark that there was no division between iris and pupil, black eyes like a mako shark.  His mouth was contorted with fear or anger, and the hand that held the pistol twitched and trembled.

Although she had never seen him before, Kelly knew who he was.  She had heard Daniel speak of him so often.  She had seen his photograph in the out-of-date copies of the Ubomo Herald newspaper that occasionally reached Gondola.  She knew that he was the Taiwanese managing-director of UDC, the man who had murdered Daniel's friend, Johnny Nzou.  Ning, she said, and scrambled to her feet trying to back away from him, but he sprang forward and seized her wrist.

She was shocked by his strength.  He twisted her arm up behind her back.

A white woman, he said in English.  A hostage.  . . Sepoo rushed at him, trying to help her, but Cheng swung the pistol in a short vicious arc and the barrel struck the little man above the ear, splitting open his scalp.

He dropped at Cheng's feet.  Still holding Kelly with the other hand, Cheng stretched down and aimed the pistol at Sepoo's temple.  No, screamed Kelly, and threw herself back against Cheng's chest.  It spoiled his aim, and the bullet ploughed into the earth six inches from Sepoo's face.  the shot roused him, and Sepoo rolled to his feet and darted away.  Cheng fired another shot at him as he ran, but Sepoo vanished into the undergrowth.

Cheng twisted her arm savagely, pulling her up on to her toes with the agony in her shoulder-blade.

You're hurting me, she cried.  Yes, Cheng agreed.  And I will kill you if you resist me again.  Walk!  he ordered.  Yes, like that.  Keep going if you don't want me to hurt you again.  Where are we going?

Kelly asked, trying to keep the pain out of her voice, trying to be calm and persuasive.  There is no escape into the forest.  With you there is, Cheng said.  Don't talk.

Be quiet!  Keep going.  He pushed and dragged her onwards, and she dared not resist.  She sensed that he was desperate enough to do anything.

She remembered what Daniel had told her about him, about the murdered Matabele family in Zimbabwe, about the rumours of children and young girls tortured for his perverted pleasure.

She realised that her best chance, perhaps her only chance, was to comply with anything he ordered her to do.

They covered half a mile, staggering and stumbling, made clumsy by the wrist-lock that Cheng had on her, and by his wild haste.  When they came out suddenly on to the bank of a narrow stream she realised that it was the Wengu, the small river that gave the area its name.  It was one of the tributaries of the main Ubomo River.

It was also one of the bleeding rivers, clogged with the poison effluent from the MOMU vehicles.  It was stinking and treacherous.

Even Cheng seemed to realize the danger of trying to wade across it.

He forced Kelly to her knees, and stood over her, panting and looking about him uncertainly.

Please.  . . she whispered.  Be silent he ranted at her.  I told you not to speak!  he screwed her wrist to enforce the order, and despite herself she whimpered aloud.

After another few moments, he asked suddenly, Is this the Wengu River?

Which direction does it run?  Does it go southwards towards the main road?  Instantly she realised which way his mind was working.  Of course, he would have an intimate knowledge of the area.  It was his concession.  He would have studied the maps.  He would certainly know that the Wengu made a circle to the south, an ox-bow that intersected the main road.  He would know that there was a Hita military post at the bridge.  Is it the Wengu?  he repeated, twisting her wrist until she screamed, and she almost answered truthfully before she caught herself. I don't know.  she shook her head.  I don't know anything about the forest.

You lie, he accused, but he was obviously uncertain.

"Who are you?  he demanded.  I'm just a nurse with the World Health Organization.  i don't know about the forest.  All right.  He hauled her to her feet.

Get going!  He shoved her forward, but now they turned southwards following the bank of the Wengu River.  Cheng had made up his mind.

Kelly deliberately kicked and scuffed the soft earth as he pushed her along.  She put all her weight on her heels, trying to lay as good a spoor as possible for Sepoo to follow.  She knew Sepoo would be coming, and with him must come Daniel.

She tried to snap any green twig that came within reach as Cheng forced her through the undergrowth.  She managed to tear a button off her shirt and drop it, an identification for Sepoo to pick up.  At every opportunity she tripped over a dead branch or fell into a hole and dropped to her knees, holding him up as much as possible, slowing down their progress, giving Sepoo and Daniel a chance to catch up.