Hammond Innes - The Strange Land

Dust rose in choking clouds through the floorboards as we ran along the edge of the palmerie. Gradually the trees thinned and fell away so that we could see the dried-up stream bed we were following. ‘There it is!’ Jan cried, leaning forward. ‘Right at the entrance to the gorge. And there’s the old city and the watch tower just as Marcel described it to me.’

I screwed up my eyes, seeing for the moment only the white glare of the piste and the black bulk of the mountain slope down which we had come. And then I saw it — the little kasbah with its two ruined towers standing out yellow against the black, shadowed immensity of the gorge. I could see the watch tower, too, and all the hill below it was strewn with the debris of an old city. In places the walls still stood, a yard thick and some twelve feet high, and one stone archway remained intact. But all the rest of it had been thrown down as though by some natural upheaval. And yet it was impressive, for this was a land of mud buildings, and I wondered who these people were who had built in stone.

Just short of the kasbah was the huddle of tents we had looked down on from above. We were very close now. A flash of light momentarily dazzled me. It was a mirror reflecting the sun. A man stood, watching us, a razor in his hand and half of his face white with shaving soap. He wore a singlet and green-khaki trousers tucked into half-length boots.

‘He looks American,’ Jan said, and then his gaze switched to the mouth of the gorge.

I pulled up outside the tent and we got stiffly down, our clothes white with the coating of dust we’d picked up crossing the valley. My eyes felt gritty and tired. It was hot already and there were flies and the smell of bacon frying.

The man who had been shaving came towards us. He was tall, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, with a young, rather square face and a crew cut. He was undoubtedly American — his features, his clothes, everything about him. He was wiping the soap from his face as he came.

‘Are you Mr White?’ Jan asked.

‘Yeah.’ He waited, watching Jan uncertainly.

‘I believe you were recently in touch with a firm of French lawyers in Rouen.’

‘That’s right. You must be Wade, I guess.’ There was interest, but no enthusiasm in his voice.

‘Wade was in touch with you then?’ Jan’s tone had sharpened.

The man frowned. ‘You mean you’re not Wade?’ He sounded puzzled.

‘No. I’m not Wade.’ Jan said, and then he nodded towards the ruined fort. ‘Is that Kasbah Foum?’

‘Yeah.’

There was a short, awkward silence. The two of them stared at each other. Jan’s gaze shifted to the tented camp and then followed the broad track that ran up into the entrance of the gorge. The track looked as though it had been made by a bulldozer, for where it passed below the kasbah it had been levelled out by thrusting aside the stones and rubble of the old city.

‘Well, what do you want?’ White’s tone had hardened. He looked very young with his fair, cropped hair and freckled face — very young and very Nordic.

‘Would you mind telling me what you’re doing up there?’

‘What business is it of yours?’

Jan reached into his breast pocket and brought out the crumpled envelope. ‘I hold the deeds to this property,’ he said.

White stared at him. His mouth had opened in an expression of surprise. But he shut it suddenly and his whole face hardened, so that he looked big and tough and a good deal older. ‘Is that so?’ He seemed to tower over Jan as he took a pace forward. ‘What the hell goes on here? Is everyone screwy? Yesterday it was a Greek telling me the land belonged to him. Now you come here and tell me — ‘

‘Was the Greek’s name Kostos?’ I asked.

White seemed to notice me for the first time. ‘Yeah, that was his name. Kostos.’ The name seemed to bring the anger that was in him to a sudden head. He swung round on Jan. ‘Now you get the hell out of here. Both of you. D’you hear? I got a concession from the Sultan’s Government. That’s good enough for me. If you think you own the land, then you go an’ tell them so. Okay?’

‘I have the documents here,’ Jan said quietly. ‘All I want to know is what you’re doing up there. You’re a prospector, aren’t you?’

‘Goddammit!’ the other exploded. ‘I’m not interested in documents. The guy who came yesterday had documents. You go an’ sort it out with the authorities.’ His voice was excited, nervous. ‘Jesus! I got enough trouble, what with the Ay-rabs bellyaching because I use bulldozers instead of employing them and Captain Legard at the Post getting scared I’ll upset the water. Now you and this Greek telling me I’ve got no right to operate here.’

‘I didn’t say that,’ Jan put in mildly.

‘All right. You didn’t say it. But that’s the inference, isn’t it? Now suppose you get out. I’ve work to do.’

Jan stood there, uncertain what to do next. The man seemed oddly belligerent. ‘Why don’t you talk it over,’ I suggested to White. ‘You haven’t looked at the documents yet.’

‘I looked at enough documents yesterday.’

‘If Kostos showed you any documents they were forgeries,’ Jan said. His voice had risen slightly and his shoulders were beginning to move excitedly. ‘Kostos is a crook and if you — ‘

‘You’re all crooks as far as I’m concerned,’ White cut in.

‘That’s not a very nice thing to say.’ It was Julie. The American looked at her, screwing up his eyes against the sun. I don’t think he’d noticed her before.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. And then he turned to Jan again and added, ‘I don’t know who you all are, and I don’t much care. I’m telling you the same as I told the Greek yesterday — go and sort it out with Caid Hassan and the authorities.’

‘If you’d just look at these deeds,’ Jan began, but the other cut him short.

‘What sort of fool do you take me for?’ he cried. ‘Do you think I’d start work here, spending my own dough, without finding out who owns the place? It belonged to a man called Duprez. It was given him by the Caid here. And Duprez is dead. I found that out from his lawyers. He’s dead and he passed the deeds on to a guy called Kavan. Now, according to the Greek, Kavan’s dead, too. Anyway, he never got his title to the property confirmed by the Caid, which he had to — ‘

‘But I am Kavan,’ Jan said.

White opened his mouth to say something and then stopped.

‘You’d better know our names,’ I said. This is Dr Jan Kavan, the man to whom Duprez gave the deeds of Kasbah Foum.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ he said. ‘Wade wrote me he’d be bringing the deeds out with him. Why should Kavan come here and not Wade? Kavan never took any interest in the place. The lawyers didn’t even know where he was. And the Greek said he was dead.’

‘Well, he’s not dead,’ I said a little irritably. ‘This is Dr Kavan, and he has the deeds with him. And this is Miss Corrigan.’

He stared at her for a moment and then turned back to me and said, ‘And what about you?’

‘My name’s Philip Latham.’

‘I mean, what’s your interest in this?’

‘I haven’t any,’ I told him. ‘I’m an English missionary out here.’

‘A missionary!’ He stared at me, open-mouthed.

‘There’s a most delicious smell of bacon,’ Julie said. pointedly sniffing at the air.

He stared at her, still frowning. ‘Oh, sure — yeah.’ He I looked at the three of us uncertainly. He was bewildered and a little uneasy.

‘We’ve been travelling all night,’ Julie said.

That was something he could understand. He! seemed to relax and a gleam of warmth came into his eyes. ‘If you haven’t had chow…’ His friendly nature asserted itself. He turned and shouted, ‘Abdul!’ And then he laughed awkwardly and said, ‘I forgot. I’m cook this morning, I guess.’ And he glanced a little angrily-round the camp.