Wilbur Smith - Assegai

Graf Otto had come up the giraffe neck of the companion ladder from the forward engine gondola, where he had gone to start the engine. Now he was pinned on the open catwalk, clinging to the side-rail while the Assegai ’s violent manoeuvres threatened to hurl him into space like a pebble from a slingshot. He was fifty feet from Eva and yelled at her urgently, ‘Both starboard throttles, full ahead.’

She obeyed him instinctively and the engines thundered, driving the airship’s nose around in a counter-turn. For a few moments she steadied sufficiently for Graf Otto to release his death grip on the rail and run lightly along the catwalk. He burst in through the main doors as the Assegai started to spin in a clockwise direction. He reached Eva’s side and grabbed the controls. His movements were quick and co-ordinated to those of the Assegai . He gentled the great airship like a runaway horse, but before he had her steady she had climbed to fourteen thousand feet and was taking a terrible buffeting from the khamsin winds. However, the full force of the storm passed under the hull and left her at nine thousand feet, running southwards on an even keel. But she had been battered by the winds: the forward port engine was damaged beyond hope of repair, and a number of struts in the framework of the gas chambers had been broken. The shell bulged over these weak spots, but she was still making eighty knots and her cargo had been secured and lashed down.

Ahead they could just make out the shape of the Nile winding through the desert. Suddenly the radio squawked and Graf Otto started with surprise. This was the first contact they had heard since they had crossed the Mediterranean coastline.

‘It’s the naval radio at Walvis Bay on the south-west coast.’ The operator looked up from his set. ‘They’re asking for a secure contact with Graf von Meerbach. They have an urgent top-secret message for you.’

Graf Otto handed the helm to Thomas Bueler, the first officer, and put on the earphones. He turned the switch to suppress the sound so that only he could hear the transmission. He listened intently, his expression darkening, and flushed with anger. At last he ended the contact and went to stand at the forward window, staring down at the mighty river passing below.

At last he seemed to reach a difficult decision and growled brusquely at Bueler, ‘In ten minutes, assemble the entire ship’s company in the control room. I want them seated in two ranks down the centre of the deck, facing forward. I am going to make an important announcement.’ He stumped out and went to the tiny cubby-hole cabin that he and Eva shared.

When he emerged, Eva was filled with dread: he had changed his artificial hand. In place of the steel finger and thumb, he now wore the menacing spike-headed mace. The crew, too, were staring at the strange weapon, which he made no effort to conceal as he took up a position facing the two rows of seated men. He glared at them in silence until they were sweating and fidgeting with anxiety. Then he said, in a cold hard tone, ‘Gentlemen, we have a traitor on board.’ He let them think about that for a while. Then he went on, ‘The enemy has been alerted to our mission. They have been informed of our course and movements. Berlin is ordering us to abort the operation.’

Suddenly he lifted his armoured fist and slammed it into the chart table. The panel shattered into splinters. ‘I am not turning back,’ he snarled. ‘I know who this traitor is.’ He prowled down the front rank of seated figures, and stopped behind Eva. She felt herself cringe inwardly and steeled herself. ‘I am a man who does not readily forgive treachery. The traitor is about to learn that.’ She wanted to scream and run out on to the catwalk, hurl herself over the side of the airship and die a clean, quick death rather than be mutilated and crushed by that steel fist. He touched the top of her head gently. ‘Who is it? you are wondering,’ he whispered.

She opened her mouth to shout defiance at him, dare him to do his worst. Then she felt him lift his hand from her head, and he walked on down the line. She felt hot, bitter bile rise in her throat, and it took all her strength to prevent herself vomiting with terror.

At the end of the line of men Graf Otto turned, and then he was coming back towards her. Her bowels felt as though they were filled with hot water and that she had to vent them. His footsteps stopped and she drew a quivering breath. It sounded as though he was directly behind her again.

She heard the blow and almost screamed. The sound was not as loud as the shattering of the chart table had been. It was a muffled wet thump and she clearly heard bone break. She whipped around as Hennie du Rand fell forward on his face. Graf Otto stood over him and swung the iron fist again and again, lifting the mace high, then putting all his weight and strength behind the blows. When he straightened up he was breathing hard and his face was speckled with droplets of blood.

‘Throw the filthy dog overboard,’ he ordered, in a milder tone, and he was smiling. ‘It’s always those you trust most who betray you. I repeat, gentlemen, there is no turning back. But we cannot allow our cargo to fall into the hands of the British. If we maintain our speed, by noon tomorrow we will have reached Arusha in German territory and be safely through the worst of it.’

He walked slowly from the cabin and Eva covered her eyes with both hands as two crewmen laid hold of Hennie’s ankles and dragged his corpse out on to the catwalk. Between them they lifted him over the rail and let him drop into the Nile valley, far below. Eva found herself weeping silently but each teardrop seemed to burn her eyes, like the sting of a bee.

The moon was so near full that when Eva woke and went to the observation car it was low over the high ground of the escarpment, glowing like a huge gold coin. She watched it sink below the dark horizon, shrouded by garlands of cloud that were blowing in on the monsoon winds streaming from the Indian Ocean. Before it disappeared completely, the first rays of the rising sun sparkled on the silver dome of the airship, and gradually the details of the landscape reappeared out of the darkness. Then her heart was thumping against her ribs as she saw the familiar outline of Lonsonyo Mountain taking shape before her eyes. Every detail was etched on her memory. She recognized the red cliffs above Sheba’s Pool and saw the foaming waters sparkle at the touch of the first sunbeams. It was as though Badger was with her again. In her mind’s eye she saw every plane and angle of his naked torso as he stood under the cascading falls and laughed at her, teasing her, daring her to come to him.

Oh, my darling, she lamented silently, where are you now? Will I never see you again?

Then, miraculously he was before her, so close that if she reached out her hand she could have touched his beautiful sun-browned face. He was gazing directly into her eyes. It was only for the most fleeting moment, but she saw that he had recognized her, and then he was gone, as suddenly as he had come.

Leon was still asleep, buried in his blankets. He heard distant voices through the last shreds of sleep, the calling of the chungaji in the stillness of the dawn. Something in their tone had alerted him. He forced himself awake as Loikot shook him with a hand on each of his shoulders. ‘M’bogo!’ His voice rang with excitement. ‘The silver fish is coming! The chungaji have seen it. It will be here before the sun is clear of the horizon.’

Leon leaped to his feet and was, in the instant, fully awake. ‘Start up!’ he shouted at Manyoro. ‘Number-one port side.’ He scrambled up on to the Butterfly ’s lower wing, then swung himself over the cockpit coaming.