John Robb - Zone Zero

Gallast decided to talk with the Frenchman.

He was turning back into the building when Daak emerged. Daak weaved rather than walked. His skin was yellow, save for blue patches under the round eyes. Gallast noticed that his clothes, which had formerly strained to contain his belly, now hung loose.

Daak said between heavy breaths: “I’ve been talking to one of your men… he told me…”

Gallast subdued a sense of revulsion at the fat little man. At all costs Daak must be preserved.

“There’s no need to worry, professor,” he said. “It is a temporary inconvenience. No more. It merely means that we must leave here immediately. You will have a horse. The rest of us will walk.” Daak considered. He swallowed painfully and whined: “But the legionnaires… we must overcome them first.”

Gallast misinterpreted the motive.

“It would not be worth the losses,” he said. “Some of them are armed and they are in a strong position. No, professor, I’m afraid you must resign yourself to the fact hat they won’t stay in the fort to die. They may even try to follow us to the foothills. But in any case, there will be no human remains for you to examine after the explosion.”

Daak boggled for words. Then he erupted a spate of them.

“It’s my instruments that I’m thinking about! What about my instruments? As soon as we leave here the legionnaires will come out of their room and smash them! I know they will… I know! And it will all have been for nothing… nothing…”

He was sobbing as he finished. But Gallast paid no attention. He was momentarily stunned.

Of course, Daak was right!

That must be one of the reasons why he had felt uneasy. That was one of the indefinite spectres which had haunted his mind. And it had been the preposterous Daak who had pointed it out to him! There was no time to waste.

Since the legionnaires certainly would not surrender, they must be destroyed. Every one of them must be killed before the fort was evacuated.

How?

Grenades were the answer. Splinter grenades which he had seen stored in the tiny magazine beneath D’Aran’s room. One of them would destroy the bunk room door.

Two or three more tossed into the opening and nothing could survive in such a small space…

But before that happened he would spare a few minutes to talk with Lieutenant D’Aran. He was curious about one or two matters…

In the bunk room…

Keith said: “Gallast’s taking a hell of a time. Maybe he’s not going to talk.”

D’Aran consulted his watch. Twelve minutes past eight. About fifteen minutes since the horses had been massacred.

“He’ll be bringing up the grenades,” D’Aran said. “He’s bound to think of the grenades. But I’m sure he’ll want to talk to me. Particularly when he realises that Sarle has vanished…”

The fort magazine was entered through a trapdoor in the floor of D’Aran’s room. It was even smaller in area than the room itself, and less than four feet deep. In it was stored six spare Lebel rifles and bayonets, ten boxes of .300 ammunition, and one stout steel case containing two dozen de-fused hand grenades.

Gallast lifted out the case personally and unlocked it with the fort keys. The fuses were stored in a small compartment under the lid. He inserted them with skilful fingers, holding down each detonating spring as he did so. Then he pressed home the anchor pins, which made each grenade comparatively safe.

He had just finished the task when one of his men came in.

He said: “Comrade Colonel—we cannot find Sarle!”

“Cannot find… are you sure he wasn’t one of those left in the bunk room?”

“I’m certain, comrade colonel. He was guarding the legionnaires who went into the kitchen. Then he left to find the pitchers.”

“Then he must be in the fort! Are you all blind as well as being fools? No man can be lost for long in this place!”

“But he’s not in the fort…”

“Of course he’s in the fort! The main gates are barred. He could not have got out there without being seen. Or are you suggesting that he flew over the walls?”

The man shuffled and made no answer. Then Gallast asked: “Did anyone see him leave the kitchen?”

“I—I don’t know…”

“You don’t know! Imbecile! All of you were handpicked for this operation. It was said that you were soldiers of outstanding daring and experience. Perhaps you are. But you also have the imaginations of donkeys! While I tried to get a little rest you allowed yourselves to be outwitted at every turn…”

He broke off, realising that his vituperation was costing valuable time. Then he indicated the grenades and added: “Assemble those at the corner of the passage leading to the bunk room. And tell every man to gather at the same place. Before I destroy the legionnaires I’m going to find out exactly what they’ve been doing…”

The voice of Colonel Gallast came through the door and the barricading beds. It was distinct, but it had a muffled quality. It said: “Lieutenant D’Aran—are you there?”

A sigh spread among the legionnaires. Of relief. The vital hand was about to be played.

D’Aran gestured to the others to stay where they were. He walked nearer to the door and stopped a little to one side of it. Then, raising his voice slightly, he said: “I thought I’d hear from you. You must have had an eventful morning, Gallast!”

“Yes, lieutenant, I won’t deny that it has had its surprises.” He paused and added in a smoothly conciliatory fashion: “Wouldn’t it be best if you talked with me in your room?”

D’Aran was unaware of the fact, but his answer caused Gallast to blink with surprise. He said: “I’ll probably be doing that very shortly, Gallast. But for the moment I’ll stay where I am.”

“I see… as a soldier I want to say that you have surprised me. You have shown courage and audacity which is worthy of a better cause than the one you serve. But I am puzzled about some of the details of your tactics. Will you answer a few questions?”

“ Oui .”

“Do you realise that with the two remaining horses we can still reach the foothills before the explosion? Why did you not wait until tomorrow, when our escape would have been impossible?”

D’Aran smiled. It was the first time he had smiled genuinely in weeks. He looked almost boyish again.

And he countered with another question. He asked: “Have you had anything to drink this morning, Gallast?”

After an utter silence: “I haven’t—but will you explain?”

“You have no water. And you cannot travel far without water, can you, Gallast!”

“The… the tank…”

“One of your guards is at the bottom of the tank. I believe his name is Sarle. His body will have quite a contaminating effect, particularly in this climate. But, for good measure, monsieur , a large quantity of salt has been dropped in to keep him company!”

Another interval. Another absolute silence. It was broken by the sound of receding footsteps. Then quiet again. D’Aran found a carefully preserved cigarette stub. He lit it and waited…

Waited for nearly fifteen minutes.

The cigarette had been smoked down to the last centimetre and ground out when a voice which was a harsh parody of Gallast’s normal tones said: “We have managed to recover Sarle’s body, lieutenant.”

“ Bon . He would have to be removed some time and it is just as well that you have done the unpleasant work. Now are you convinced that you are trapped, Gallast?”

“Perhaps—perhaps I am convinced.”

“You appreciate that we have the only pure water in the fort. It’s in the pitchers that Sarle was said to have been seeking… now have you any other questions, Gallast?”