John Robb: Zone Zero

Gallast said: “It is obviously the first time you have witnessed such things, lieutenant. I sympathise. But one gets used to them. Now I want you to sit again at your desk. I promised you a full explanation and you shall have it.”

D’Aran turned. He faced the Luger. That was all that seemed to matter about Gallast—his Luger. Not the man himself. He was nothing. It was his gun which made him important.

He took three faltering steps and sat down again in his chair.

Gallast sat, too. He poised himself easily on the corner of the desk amid the mass of papers. He was about to speak when one particular paper caught his eye. He picked it up, read it. It was the decoded message from the High Command.

“This,” Gallast said, when he had finished, “shows that I am a very fortunate man. The transmission timing proves it came in less than half an hour ago. If we had been only a few minutes later in arriving at the fort you might not have allowed us in. We would still have seized the place, but it would have complicated matters. I fear our intelligence has been at fault—we did not think that this message would go out for at least another day.”

D’Aran’s feeling of revulsion was fading. Curiosity was becoming predominant.

“Will you stop talking about things I cannot possibly understand? You have seized this outpost through a trick. Obviously you are not archaeologists. Equally obviously, you are soldiers. But who are you and who are you here?”

Gallast shrugged his broad shoulders. He waved the message.

“But you must have guessed that this is why we’re here.”

“The—the bomb…”

“Exactly. Our precise nationality does not matter much, but let it suffice to say that we represent a government which is very curious about the forthcoming thermo-nuclear explosion. It is vital to us that we find out as much about it as possible.”

D’Aran swore softly.

“How can you hope to discover anything of use? Do you imagine you will get anywhere near the bomb before it is detonated?”

“We are near enough, lieutenant.”

“Near enough! It’s to be exploded near the Sanna Oasis. That’s thirty miles from here!”

“Quite so—but this place is conveniently located as an observation post”

D’Aran drew a shaking hand across his damp forehead. He wondered again whether he was dealing with a madman.

“An observation post! Tiens ! You’ve seen for yourself that we cannot remain here—it is much too close. Nothing can live in this fort when the explosion comes. The whole of Zone Zero is unsafe.”

“But we are not going to stay in the fort during, the explosion.”

“Then how can you…?”

“How can we observe the bomb? That will not be difficult. We have brought shock and heat-proof recording instruments with us. We will install them under the cover of your walls. Then we will leave them, retiring to a safe distance. When it is safe, we’ll return to collect the instruments, which will tell our nuclear scientists most of what they want to know.”

D’Aran said tonelessly: “How did you get into Algeria?”

“There was not much difficulty about that. When one is backed by all the resources of a powerful State, there is no particular problem about infiltrating into such a vast area as this.”

D’Aran had to admit to himself that this was true. Supported by a detailed organisation, there were at least a score of plausible routes by which twelve men could get secretly into the territory from Europe.

And despite the overwhelming horror of the situation, D’Aran found that pure curiosity was gradually overcoming all his other emotions.

He asked: “You are not scientists. How can you instal such instruments?”

“We don’t intend to try. Professor Daak, of our nuclear research bureau, will arrive here at midday tomorrow for that purpose… he will arrive by air.”

“By air! C’est impossible ! The range is too far and the plane would be seen.”

Gallast gestured slightly with the gun.

“You are out of touch with modern developments, lieutenant. You ought to know that a long range bomber, carrying extra fuel tanks, can easily make the four thousand-mile return flight between central Europe and central Algeria. And it will not be seen, for it will fly most of the way at more than thirty thousand feet.”

“But… but why didn’t you bring this—this Professor Daak with you?”

“Because he has to bring certain extra equipment with him which was too heavy to bring on pack mules. And I can see that another question is forming in your mind. You are wondering why all of us did not come here by air. A moment’s reflection ought to provide the answer. You see, our only chance of seizing this fort lay in duplicity and surprise. We knew that it was a tiny and lonely place. We knew, also, that it was situated in a quiet area, therefore you were not likely to take precautionary measures against a handful of travellers who said they were looking for ancient remains. But if a large aeroplane had landed, it would have been different. You would immediately have been on the alert. As matters stand, our operation has worked very well. Professor Daak (a most talented and unusual man, I assure you) will arrive in comfort. And we will all leave for Europe in the plane, which will call back for us. We dare not keep the machine here in case it is seen by Arabs or damaged by the bomb. All the instruments will be buried after the vital data has been collected from them.”

There was a long and heavy pause. Then D’Aran moved a hand towards his tunic side pocket.

He said: “Do you mind if I have a cigarette?”

“Do—but don’t attempt anything stupid.”

D’Aran extracted a black enamelled case. His initials were on it in gold lettering. For a fraction of a second he recalled that Lucinne had given it to him not six months ago. She had pressed it into his hands and kissed his cheek at the same time, as if it atoned for her faithlessness…

But the digression was forgotten even before he put a cigarette between his lips. His brain had become a fevered tumult. He was watching Gallast under half lowered lids. D’Aran knew that he was not particularly big, and certainly not nearly so strong as Gallast. But…

But if he could overpower him temporarily. Just long enough to get an emergency call over on the radio set. Such a signal might be picked up first time, particularly since the powerful station at Sidi Bel Abbes had been using the wavelength less than an hour before. It was quite possible that one of the operators at Bel Abbes was maintaining a continuous listening watch on Fort Ney in case of queries arising out of the evacuation orders…

Oui , it was worth trying. Anything was better than this! And as he came to the decision, D’Aran was faintly surprised to note that he was not afraid. He was only tense with anticipatory excitement.

It was apparently as an afterthought that he said to Gallast: “Do you smoke?” and offered his case. Gallast hesitated. Then he took a cigarette. D’Aran produced a box of matches and struck one. Gallast leaned slightly forward to receive the light, his gun raised so that it was aimed at D’Aran’s chest.

The burning match travelled towards the cigarette.

Then, at the last moment, it changed direction. The flame licked against Gallast’s hairy gun hand. Gallast took in a swift, hissing breath of pain as he twitched the hand away. And D’Aran drove a fist into his face. In that transient period Gallast was an ideal target. He was off balance and on the corner of the desk. His gun was temporarily useless and he had no other defence. A right upper cut of only nominal accuracy and power would have put him on the floor, even if it did not knock him out.