Rage - Smith Wilbur (читать книги онлайн без сокращений .TXT) 📗
Tara explained to Marion Hurst, not attempting to conceal Moses' identity nor the fact that he was a fugitive, and she was not surprised by the American woman's response.
'It's like Martin Luther King coming and asking me for sanctuary,' she declared. 'Of course, I'll do whatever I can to help." As a cover, Marion gave Moses a job in the pottery section of the warehouse under the name of Stephen Khama, and he was absorbed immediately into the company of the expedition. Without asking questions the other members, both black and white, gathered around to shield him.
Despite Marcus Archer's assurances, it was almost a week before he was able to contact Joe Cicero, and another day before he could arrange for them to meet. The hardest possible way they had learned not to underestimate the vigilance of the police, while Joe Cicero had always been secretive and professional. Nobody was certain where he lived or how he maintained himself, his comings and goings were unannounced and unpredictable.
'I have always thought him to be theatrical and over-careful, but now I see the wisdom behind it,' Moses told Tara as they drove into the city. Moses was once more dressed in his chauffeur's uniform.
'From now on we must learn from the professionals, for those ranged against us are the hardest of professionals." Joe Cicero came out of the entrance of the Johannesburg railway station as Moses stopped the Cadillac for the red light at the pedestrian crossing, and he slipped unobtrusively into the back seat beside Tara. Moses pulled away, heading out in the direction of Doornfontein.
'I congratulate you on still being at large,' Joe told Moses wryly, as he lit a fresh cigarette from the butt of the last and glanced sideways at Tara. 'You are Tara Courtney,' and smiled at her surprise.
'What is your part in all this?" 'She is a friend,' Moses spoke for her. 'She is committed to us.
You may speak freely in front of her." 'I never speak freely,' Joe murmured. 'Only an idiot does that." They were all silent then until Joe asked suddenly, 'And so, my friend, do you still believe that the revolution can be won without blood?
Are you still one of the pacifists who would play the game by the rules that the oppressor makes and changes at will?" 'I have never been a pacifist,' Moses' voice rumbled. 'I have always been a warrior." 'I rejoice to hear you say it, for it confirms what I have always believed." Joe smiled a sly and inscrutable smile behind the fringeof dark beard. 'If I did not, I would not be sitting here now." Then his tone altered. 'Make a U-turn here and take the Krugersdorp road!" he ordered.
The three of them were silent while Joe turned to scrutinize the following traffic. After a minute he seemed satisfied and relaxed in the back seat. Moses drove out of the built-up areas into the open grassy veld. The traffic around them thinned, and abruptly Joe Cicero leaned forward and pointed ahead to an empty lay-by on the side of the road.
'Pull in there,' he ordered, and as Moses parked the Cadillac he opened the door beside him. As he stepped out he jerked his head.
'Come!" When Tara opened her own door to join them, Joe snapped. 'No, not you! Stay here!" With Moses at his side he walked through the stand of scraggly black wattle into the open veld beyond, out of sight of the road.
'I told you the woman is trustworthy,' Moses said, and Joe shrugged.
'Perhaps. I do do not take chances until it is necessary to do so." And then he changed direction. 'I asked you once what you thought of Mother Russia?" 'And I replied that she was a friend of the oppressed peoples of the world." 'She wishes to be your friend also,' Joe said simply.
'Do you mean me personally - Moses Gama?" 'Yes, you personally - Moses Gama." 'How do you know this?" 'There are men in Moscow who have watched you carefully for many years. What they have seen they approve off They offer you the hand of friendship." 'I ask you again. How do you know this?" 'I am a colonel in the Russian KGB. I have been ordered to tell you this." Moses stared at him. It was moving so fast that he needed a respite to catch up.
x 'What does the offer of friendship entail?" he asked cautiously, buying time in which to think, and Joe Cicero nodded approvingly.
'It is good you ask the terms of our friendship. It confirms our estimate of you. That you are a careful man. You will be given the answer to that in due course. In the meantime be content with the fact that we have singled you out above all others." 'Very well,' Moses agreed. 'But tell me why I have been chosen.
There are other good men - Mandela is one of them." 'Mandela was considered, but we do not believe he has the steel.
We detect a softness in him. Our psychologists believe that he will flinch from the hard and bloody work of the revolution. We know also that he does not have the same high regard for Mother Russia that you do. He has even called her the new oppressor, the colonialist of the twentieth century." 'What about the others?" Moses asked.
'There are no others,' Joe told him flatly. 'It was either you or Mandela. It is you. That is the decision." 'They want my answer now?" Moses stared into the tar pits of his eyes, but they had a strangely lifeless dullness in them and Joe Cicero shook his head.
'They want to meet you, talk to you, make sure you understand the bargain. Then you will be trained and groomed for the task ahead." 'Where will this meeting take place?" Joe smiled and shrugged. 'In Moscow - where else?" And Moses did not let his amazement show on his face, though his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
'Moscow! How will I get there?" 'It has been arranged,' Joe assured him, and Moses lifted his head and stared at the tall thunderheads that rose in silver and blue splendour along the horizon. He was lost in thought for many minutes.
He felt his spirits grow light and take wing up towards those soaring thunder clouds. It had come - the moment for which he had worked and waited a lifetime. Destiny had cleared the field of all his rivals, and he had been chosen.
Like a victor's laurel they were offering a land and a crown.
'I will go to meet them,' he agreed softly.
'You will leave in two days' time. It will take me that long to make the final arrangements. In the meantime keep out of sight, do not attempt to take leave of any friends, do not tell anybody you are going - not even the Courtney woman or your new wife. I will get a message to you through Marcus Archer and if he is arrested before then, I will contact you at the expedition base at Sundi Caves. Professor Hurst is a sympathizer." Joe dropped the butt of his'cigarette and while he ground it under his heel, he lit another. 'Now we will go back to the car." Victoria Gama stood at the top end of the sloping lawns of the Baragwanath nurses' home. She was still dressed in her uniform with the badges of a nursing sister sparkling on her tunic, but she looked very young and self-conscious as she faced the hundred or so off-duty nurses who were gathered on the lawns below her. The white matron had refused permission for them to meet in the dining-hall, so they were standing out under a sky full of towering thunderheads.
'My sisters!" She held out her hands towards them. 'We have a duty to our patients - to those in pain, to those suffering and dying, to those who turn to us in trust. However, I believe that we have a higher duty and more sacred commitment to all our people who for three hundred years have suffered under a fierce and unrelenting oppression --' Victoria seemed to gather confidence as she spoke, and her sweet young voice had a music and rhythm that caught their attention.
