Mack Reynolds: Border, Breed Nor Birth

Homer Crawford said dryly, “Doesn’t anybody take this seriously? It’s probably going to mean all your necks before it’s through, you know.”

Elmer Allen said dourly, “I take it seriously. I spent the idealistic years, the school years, working for peace, democracy, a better world. Now, here I am, helping to attempt to establish a tyranny over half the continent of my racial background. But I’m in.”

“Right,” Homer said, the side of his mouth twitching. “You can be our Minister of Propaganda.”

“Minister of Propaganda!” Elmer wailed. “You mean like Goebbels? Me!”

Homer laughed. “O.K., we’ll call it Minister of Information, or Press Secretary to El Hassan. It all means the same thing.” He looked at Jacob Armstrong and said, “How old are you, Jake?”

“That’s none of your business,” the white-haired Jake said aggressively. “I’m in. El Hassan is the only answer. North Africa has got to be united, both for internal and external purposes. If you—if we—don’t do the job first, somebody else will, and offhand, I can’t think of anybody else I trust. I’m in.”

Homer Crawford looked at him for a long moment “Yes,” he said finally. “Of course you are. Jake, you’ve just been made our combined Foreign Minister and Plenipotentiary Extraordinary to the Reunited Nations. You’ll leave immediately, first for Geneva, to present our demands to the Reunited Nations, then to New York.”

“What do I do in New York?” Jake Armstrong said blankly, trying to assimilate the curves that were being thrown to him.

“You raise money and support from starry-eyed Negro groups and individuals. You line up such organizations as the Africa for Africans Association behind El Hassan. You give speeches, and ruin your liver eating at banquets every night in the week. You send out releases to the press. You get all the publicity for the El Hassan movement you can. You send official protests to the governments of every country in the world every time they do something that doesn’t fit in with our needs. You locate recruits and send them here to Africa to take over some of the load. I don’t have to tell you what to do. You can think on your feet as well as I can. Do what is necessary. You’re our Foreign Minister. Don’t let us see your face again until El Hassan is in control of North Africa.”

Jake Armstrong blinked. “How will I prove I’m your representative? I’ll need more than just a note To Whom It May Concern.”

Homer Crawford thought about that.

Bey said, “One of our first jobs is going to have to be to capture a town where they have a broadcast station, say Zinder or In Salah. When we do, we’ll announce that you’re Foreign Minister.”

Crawford nodded. “That’s obviously the ticket. By that time you should be in New York, with an office opened.”

Jake rubbed a black hand over his cheek as though checking his morning shave. “It’s going to take some money to get started. Once started I can depend on contributions, perhaps, but at first…”

Homer interrupted with, “Cliff, you’re Minister of the Treasury. Raise some money.”

“Eh?” Cliff Jackson said blankly. The king-size, easygoing Californian looked more like the early Joe Louis than ever.

Everybody laughed. Elmer Allen came forth with his wallet and began pulling out such notes as it contained. “I don’t know what we’d be doing with this in the desert,” he said.

Isobel said, “I have almost three thousand dollars in a checking account in New York. Let’s see if I have my checkbook here.”

The others were going through their pockets. As bank notes in British pounds, American dollars, French francs and Common Europe marks emerged they were tossed to the center of the small table which wobbled on three legs in the middle of the room.

Elmer Allen said, “I have an account with the Bank of Jamaica in Kingston. About four hundred pounds, I think. I’ll have it transferred.”

Cliff took up the money and began counting it, making notations on a notebook pad as he went.

Bey said, “We’re only going to be able to give Jake part of this.”

“Hows’ that?” Elmer growled. “What use have we for money in the Sahara? Jake’s got to put up a decent front in Geneva and New York.”

Bey said doggedly, “As Defense Minister, I’m opposed to El Hassan’s followers ever taking anything without generous payment. We’ll need food and various services. From the beginning, we’re going to have to pay our way. We can’t afford to let rumors start going around that we’re nothing but a bunch of brigands.”

“Bey’s right,” Homer nodded. “The El Hassan movement is going to have to maintain itself on the highest ethical level. We’re going to take over where the French Camel Corps left off and police North Africa. There can’t be a man from Somaliland to Mauretania who can say that one of El Hassan’s followers liberated from him as much as a date.”

Kenny Ballalou said, “You can always requisition whatever you need and give them a receipt, and then we’ll pay off when we come to power.”

“That’s out!” Bey snapped. “Most of these people can’t read. And even those that do don’t trust what they read. A piece of paper, in their eyes, is no return for some goats, or flour, camels, horses, or whatever else it might be we need. No, we’re going to have to pay our way.”

Crawford raked a hand back through his wiry hair. “Bey’s right, Kenny. It’s going to be a rough go, especially at first.”

Kenny snorted. “What do you mean, at first? What’s going to happen at second to make it any easier? Where’re we going to get all this money we’ll need to pay for even what we ourselves use, not to speak of the thousands of men we’re going to have to have if El Hassan is ever to come to power?”

Bey’s eyebrows went up in shocked innocence. “Kenny, dear boy, don’t misunderstand. We don’t requisition anything from individuals, or clans, or small settlements. But if we take over a town such as Gao, or Niamey, or Colomb-Béchar, or wherever, there is nothing to say that a legal government such as that of El Hassan can’t requisition the contents of the local banks.”

Homer Crawford said with dignity, “The term, my dear Minister of Defense, currently is to nationalize the bank. Whether or not we wish to have the banks remain nationalized, after we take over, we can figure out later. But in the early stages, I’m afraid we’re going to have to nationalize just about every bank we come in contact with.”

Cliff Jackson said cautiously, “I haven’t said whether or not I’ll come in yet, but just as a point, I might mention issuing your own legal tender. As soon as you liberate a printing press somewhere, of course.”

Everone was charmed at the idea.

Isobel said, “You can see Cliff was meant to be Minister of Treasury. He’s got wholesale larceny in his soul, none of this picayunish stuff such as robbing nomads of their sheep.”

Elmer Allen was shaking his head sadly. “This whole conversation started with Bey protesting that we couldn’t allow ourselves to be thought of as brigands. Now listen to you all.”

Kenny Ballalou said with considerable dignity, “See here, friend. Don’t you know the difference between brigandage and international finance?”

“No,” Elmer said flatly.

“Hm-m-m,” Kenny said.

“Let’s get on with this,” Homer said. “The forming of El Hassan’s basic government is beginning to take on aspects of a minstrel show. Then we’ve all declared ourselves in … except Cliff.”

All eyes turned to the bulky Californian.

He sat scowling.

Homer said easily, “You’re not being urged, Cliff. You can turn back at this point.”