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at him over her drink.
'Hasn't Abu Zeki told you all you need to know?' he said
sullenly.
She giggled. 'Oh, something quite fantastic. So absurd that
of course I believe it - and want to know More. A votre
sant I' She raised her glass.
Fleming hesitated and then sipped h{s drink. The bite of
the whisky on his palate made him feel better. He decided to
play along for a little while. She was still acting drunkenly,
her speech slurred and her body limp. It made her More
atraetive than usual.
'What have you against us?' she asked. 'The smell of commerce?
The dirt that's supposed to stick to money?'
'Partly,' he grunted.
'We haven't such a bad record in this country,' she continued.
'There was nothing here till we came. Now that
8 113
Sallm's taken over we can progress still More.' Her eyes were
bright with excitement. 'Perhaps we shall become fabulous
and great, like medieval Venice or the East India Company.
Anyway soon no one will be able to compete with us. The
whole world will be at our feet.'
'Or at hers,' he observed, sipping again from his glass.
She leaned forward. 'Hers?' she repeated. 'Why don't you
tell me about her? There is something she alone knows?
Something she will do?'
Her eyes were fixed on him, unblinking, malevolent. He
had a ridiculous feeling that she was mesmerising him. To
break it he looked away and gulped the rest of the whisky.
As he put the glass down he knew the drink had been
drugged. His legs felt weak and he couldn't stop his mind
wandering purposelessly into vagaries about the past. He
groped for a chair he couldn't properly see and slumped in it.
Immediately Gamboul was across and standing over him.
'Now you'll tell me,' she ordered.
He talked hesitantly at first, sentences unfinished, subjects
trMal and unconnected; but by the end of half an hour she
had learned the whole story.
She sat looking at the half-conscious Fleming sprawled
awkwardly in his chair for a long time after the questioning.
She wondered if this enirnatic but highly desirable Englishman
had somehow outwitted her and faked his reaction to
the truth drug. She dismissed the idea as absurd; she knew
all there was to know about its effects.
She picked up the house phone on Salim's cleared desk and
gave an order for Fleming to be taken back to his quarters.
For herself she called for a car to be brought round.
Twenty minutes later she arrived at Andre's quarters. The
door was open and only one ,guard was near. She asked him
in Arabic where the white girl was, and the man answered
that she had come out and gone to the building opposite.
Frightened, he added that they had not been ordered to use
force to prevent her moving withln the station.
Gamboul went to the computer building. Abu Zeki was
not there; only two mrds walked ceaselessly up and down
the main corridor. She saw Andre sitting quietly before the
sensory screen in the communication section.
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'What are you doing here?' Gamboul asked suspiciously.
Andre smiled at her. 'I am waiting,' she said tonelessly.
'For you. You are the logical choice.' She looked intently at
the darkened screen. 'What have you forced Dr Fleming to
tell you ?'
'You -you know about that?' Gamboul exclaimed.
Andre nodded. 'It is all predictable. No doubt you could
not believe all he said. But I will show you. Sit beside me. Do
not be frightened. There is no need.'
Gamboul pulled across a chair. Andre gave her a reassuring
nod and then placed her hands on the sensory controls.
The screen produced a dot of light which expanded and
faded. Then came a vague, misty imagery in halftones.
'What is that?' Gamboul whispered.
Andre's voice was flat and mechanical. 'Watch,' she said.
'I will explain. It is where the message comes from. Soon you
will know what has been calculated for you to do.'
Far into the night the two women sat before the screen, the
frail, slight figure of Andre taut and somehow proud; Gam-boul,
motionless, transfixed, as her eyes tried to assimilate the
strange figurations which hovered, cleared and grew misty on
the screen, while her brain absorbed the low murmur of
Andre's interpretation.
Abu Zeki was the only person, apart from the uninterested
guards, who saw them there. Recognising Gamboul, he
turned away. The woman intimidated him, and he disliked
her. In any event, he had heard of her intimacy with Colonel
Salim. It would not be wise to get involved with the new
dictator's mistress.
He went to his quarters and lay on his bed. He knew he
would not be able to sleep properly, the time was too
momentous. He thought happily about the brave new world
that had been born at the moment the state radio announced
the change of government. Yet there was a niggling premonition
of disaster at the back of his mind. He recognised that
this was the result of his talk with Fleming. He liked Fleming;
liked the way he saw through the trappings of a problem to
the heart of it. Abu wanted to learn to be like that.
Deliberately he forced his mind to shift to pleasanter things - Ins wife, his baby son. But it
was no good. The low hum of
115
the computer seemed to permeate the very air. He dozed
The hum. So it was still operating. He sat up and looked at
his watch. The luminous hands showed 3.30. If the women
were still there they had been working for at least eight
hours.
He got up. Already the eastern sky had a pinkish tinge. He
ran across the compound to the computer block. A guard,
asleep on his feet, started with fright. Abu identified himself
and the man lolled back against the wall.
Inside the block the lights were bright, and the air was
heavy and warm after the sharpness of the night air from the
desert. Abu crept forward slowly. The two women were still
there, staring at the screen. Andre's voice was so low that he
could not make out what she was saying even when he
stopped a few feet behind them.
'Mm'selle Gamboul,' he said. 'What is happening? Miss
Andre, it is I - Abu Zeki.'
For all the notice they took he might have been a voiceless
ghost. He felt a prickle of fear and crept quietly away.
Outside he stopped and breathed deeply the fresh, lovely
air. He felt better and it cleared his mind. He realised what
he must do next.
He ran to Fleming's quarters. A ,guard outside, qde awake,
barred his way. The soldier called over his shoulder and the
door opened. Kaufman came out.
'I must see Dr Fleming,' Abu said.
Kaufman grunted that he could come in. Fleming was
sprawled, fully clothed, on his bed. A couple of chairs facing
each other showed where Kaufman had been resting while
watching him.
Abu shook Fleming roughly by the shoulder. 'Doctor
Fleming,' he begged, 'you must come right away!'
Fleming groaned, opened his eyes, and screwed up his
face. 'What time is it?' he mumbled.
'Nearly four.'
Fleming sat up with a start. He fought off a bout of dizziness.
'The doctor has had a little drug,' Kaufman explained.
'He will be all fight presently.'
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Fleming got gingerly to his feet. 'What's the matter, Abu?'
he asked, ignoring the German.
'I do not understand what is happening,' Abu said:
'Mm'selle Gamboul came to the computer yesterday evening.
She was with the girl. I went to bed. They are still there - in
the communication unit. I spoke to them, but they took no
notice. They did not seem to know I was with them. They
were watching the display tube.'
Fleming ran his fingers through his hair. 'Oh my God! I
should have guessed.' He crossed to the door. Kaufman
moved in front of it, his plump hand round the handle.
'I have orders,' he said uneasily.
Fleming braced himself for a show-doxrn. Hastily Abu
intervened. 'He must come,' he shouted at Kaufman; 'he is
needed for the computer.'
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