Mack Reynolds: The Best Ye Breed

On the Victoria side, he took a hovercar to the Japanese consulate.

One of the two plainclothesmen there politely murmured greetings to him and took his bags from the cab and led the way into the interior.

The pretty Japanese girl at the reception desk was attired in a shibui kimona. At the colonel’s approach she came to her feet and bowed thrice deeply, before resuming her seat.

He told her that he had an appointment with Prince Genji Shikibu.

Her desk equipment was all but identical to any that might have been found in Common Europe or the United States of the Americas. She utilized it.

Within moments, a European clad consular aide appeared from a rear door and exchanged polite bows with the colonel and led the way for him, although Tokugawa Hidetada had been over the route a few score times.

The aide knocked discreetly at a beautifully engraved door of black wood and opened it. The colonel entered.

The room beyond was a combination of half Japanese, half western. Aside from the inevitable portrait of the Mikado, the room’s sole decoration was a statuette carved of white and green jade, set into an alcove. It was exquisite. The last time the colonel had been here, the alcove contained an antique ivory piece. The prince periodically changed his displayed art objects, but there was never more than one in any room of his quarters. The Japanese do not believe in art in quantity, preferring to be subjected to but one piece at a time. There is no such thing as an art museum in the land of the rising sun. The art conscious people do not wish to be beaten over the head with a surfeit of beauty.

The furniture of the room, including desk, a center table and the chairs, were of the West.

The prince arose at the colonel’s entry. He was a man in his early sixties and wore a black silk formal man’s kimona and a happi , hip length loose jacket of heavy dark blue cotton. On the kimona were discreet mon , family crests of the prince which added to its elegance.

The colonel, hands stiff at his sides, bowed deeply several times and the prince nodded and gestured to the table. They sat and almost immediately a girl entered. She wore a heavily embroidered, brilliantly dyed kimona and was heavily made up and coiffed almost in the style of a geisha. She bore a tea tray and bobbed her bows half a dozen times before serving the men, who paid her no attention. She was, undoubtedly, the colonel thought, one of the prince’s concubines.

When she had gone, they sipped their tea and the colonel commented upon its excellence.

The prince finally stroked his wisp of white beard and said, “And your mission in Canton, Colonel?”

“I am embarassed to reveal that I have had insufficient time to bring it to a successful conclusion. Although I speak the Cantonese dialect and hence am able to merge quite easily into the streets, the authorities are quite efficient in their security measures and one must proceed with great care.”

The prince nodded understanding and said, “It is of no matter. We are withdrawing you from the assignment, for one of more importance.”

Tokugawa Hidetada bobbed his head in acceptance of that and looked into the other’s face politely, awaiting his new instructions.

“We are aware, Colonel, that your duties kept you in the Near East for nearly five years. How is your Arabic?”

“Not quite perfect, Your Higness, but almost so. I have a slight accent. However, that is not the handicap in Moslem nations that it might be elsewhere. The Arabic of Saudi Arabia differs somewhat from that of even nearby Egypt and that of Egypt from, say, Algeria. Thus a Moroccan, speaking with me, might well think I was from Jordan or Syria, and a Syrian might come to the conclusion that I was from Algeria.”

“Very well. That is not of major importance. Yur dossier tells me that you are also conversant with Esperanto.”

The colonel bobbed his head in admission. “It has been a hobby since my youth.”

“Excellent. It is one of the reasons that you have been chosen for this assignment.”

The colonel held his peace politely.

Prince Genji Shikibu said, “I doubt that you have heard of El Hassan.”

“No, Your Highness. Your servant is shamefully ignorant.”

“It would be unlikely that news of his astounding appearance onto the world scene would be released by the Cantonese press. It will probably be some time before the Chairman and the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party have decided upon a stand to take on El Hassan.”

He poured more of the green tea, before going on.

He said, “Northern Africa, Colonel, has erupted. News filtering out is fragmentary. However, this much we know. Within months, actually not much more than weeks, a new figure has manifested itself in the Sahara and, indeed, throughout the area north of the Congo. His movements are sweeping through the desert and its borders like wildfires. Areas far and beyond the size of all Japan have been taken over by his followers.”

The colonel indicated his surprise by sucking in air, politely.

The prince took a new tack. “As you are aware, Colonel, Japan is for all practical purposes without natural resources. We must import practically all, for our industries. For instance, we are the third greatest producer of finished steel in the world, but both our iron ore and coal must come from abroad. It becomes an increasing problem. Indeed, our economy is confronted with disaster. The first blow came with the Arab oil cartel and we were hard put to avoid complete collapse.”

The colonel nodded politely to accept the truth of that. All Japan was acquainted with the fact.

The prince went on. “Africa, and particularly North Africa, is one of the few remaining all but completely undeveloped areas of the world. If El Hassan is successful in realizing his ambitions he will be in control of a wealth of raw materials in one nation unrivaled, save possibly, only possibly, in the Soviet Complex. There are few raw materials necessary to modern industry that are not to be found in profusion in Northern Africa. Colonel, I must be blunt. We must gain access to these raw materials, or Japan dies.”

The colonel’s face went blank.

The prince took a deep breath and then continued. “In Mauretania alone—and El Hassan’s followers are already said to be in control there—are deposits of copper far greater than those of Chili or Katanga, iron deposits richer than those of Labrador or Venezuela. In Algeria and Libya oil gushes from the sands, far beyond the needs of our country.”

The colonel bobbed his head in acceptance. “And my assignment, Your Highness?”

The other hesitated. “We actually do not know. El Hassan is a mystery. Is he a religious fanatic, a new Mohammed come out of the desert? Is he a communist, strongly opposed to us capitalist nations? Is he a racist, strongly against all but blacks? Is he an anarchist, decrying modern industry, modern socioeconomic systems? This we must know. We must know whether our path leads to supporting this mysterious El Hassan and coming to agreements with him to secure his raw materials in return for our manufactured products, or if we must vigorously combat him and continue to deal with the present governments of the states he is attempting to overwhelm.”

The colonel nodded.

The prince hesitated before adding, “The rumors about El Hassan are endless. Some indicate that he has reservations about trading North Africa’s raw materials to the developed countries, except at exorbitant prices. However, other rumors indicate that some of his closest colleagues are less extreme and desire the aid of such countries as Japan to speed the modernization of Africa. One in particular, Field Marshal Bey-ag-Akhamouk, seems particularly to have strong opinions of his own. Perhaps you will find it suitable for us to back him, if he is at odds with this El Hassan.”