Shout at the Devil - Smith Wilbur (лучшие книги .TXT) 📗

"Then..." said the artificer, clearly enjoying the hold he had on his audience, "... you wind the knob on the clock." He touched it with his forefinger, "... close the lid," he closed it, "... wait twelve hours, and BoomV The enthusiasm with which the Scotsman simulated an explosion blew a fine spray of spittle across the desk,

and Flynn withdrew hurriedly out of range.

"Wait twelve hours?" asked Flynn, dabbing at the droplets on his cheeks. "Why so long?"

"I ordered a twelve-hour delay on the fusing of the charge." Joyce answered the question. "If Mr. Oldsmith is to gain access to the Blitcher's magazines, he will have to infiltrate the native labour gangs engaged in transferring the explosives. Once he is a member of the gang he might find difficulty in extricating himself and getting away from the ship after he has placed the charge. I am sure that Mr. Oldsmith would be reluctant to make this attempt unless we could ensure that there is time for him to escape from Blucher, when his efforts... ah," he sought the correct phraseology, ah... come to fruition." Joyce was pleased with this speech, and- he turned to

Sebastian for endorsement. "Am I correct in my, assumption, Mr.

Oldsmith?" Not to be outdone in verbosity, Sebastian pondered his reply for a second. Five hours of deathlike sleep curled in Rosa's arms had refreshed his body and sharpened his wit to the edge of a Toledo steel blade.

"Indubitably,"he replied, and beamed in triumph.

They sat together in the time when the sun was dying and bleeding on the clouds. They sat together on a kaross of monkey skin in a thicket of wild ebony, at the head of one of the draws that wrinkled down into the valley of the Rufiji. "They sat in silence. Rosa bent forward over her needlework, as she stitched a concealed pocket into the filthy cloak of leather that lay across her lap. The pocket would hold the cigar box. Sebastian watched her, and his eyes upon her were a caress. She pulled the last stitch tight, knotted it, then leaned forward to bite the thread.

"There!" she said. "It's finished." And looked up into his eyes.

"Thank you," said Sebastian. They sat together quietly and Rosa reached out to touch his shoulder. The muscle under the black stained skin was rubber hard, and warm.

"Come."

she said and drew his head down to her so that their cheeks touched, and they held each other while the last light faded.

The African dusk thickened the shadows in the wild ebony, and down the draw a jackal yipped plaintively.

"Are you ready?" Flynn stood near them, a dark bulky figure, with

Mohammed beside him.

"Yes. "Sebastian looked up at him.

"Kiss me, "whispered Rosa, and come back safely." Gently

Sebastian broke from her embrace. He stood tall above her, and draped the cloak over his naked body. The cigar box hung heavily between his shoulder blades.

"Wait for me,"he said, and walked away.

Flynn Patrick O'Flynn moved restlessly under his single blanket and belched. Heartburn moved acid sour in his throat, and he was cold.

The earth under him had long since lost the warmth it had sucked from yesterday's sun. A small slice of the old moon gave a little silver light to the night.

Unsleeping he lay and listened to the soft sound of Rosa sleeping near him. The sound irritated him, he lacked only an excuse to waken her and make her talk to him. Instead he reached into the haversack that served as his pillow and his fingers closed round the cold smooth glass of the bottle.

A night-bird hooted softly down the draw, and Flynn released the bottle and sat up quickly. He placed two fingers between his lips and repeated the night-bird's cry.

Minutes later Mohammed drifted like a small black ghost into camp and came to squat beside Flynn's bed.

"see you, Fini."

"You I see also, Mohammed. It went well?"

"It went well."

"Manali has entered the camp of the Allemand?"

"He sleeps now beside the man who is my cousin, and in the dawn they will go down the RLIfiji, to the big boat of the Allemand once again."

"Good!"

grunted Flynn. "You have done well." Mohammed coughed softly to signify that there was more to tell.

"What is it? "Flynn demanded.

"When I had seen Manali safely into the care of my cousin, I came back along the valley and..." he hesitated, "... perhaps it is not fitting to speak of such matters at a time when our Lord Manali goes unarmed and alone into the camp of the Allemand."

"Speak," said Flynn.

"As I walked without sound, I came to a place where this valley falls down to the little river called Abati. You know the place?"

"Yes, about a mile down the draw from here."

"That is the place." Mohammed nodded. "It was here that I saw something move in the night. It was as though a mountain walked." A silver of ice was thrust down Flynn's spine, and his breathing snagged painfully in his throat.

"Yes?" he breathed.