Assignment Madeleine (12 page)

Damn, she thought, what’s the matter with me?

She went into the corridor when she heard Durell’s
footsteps. He was with DeGrasse. Both men looked tense and angry, as if they
had been arguing. Captain DeGrasse halted and his mouth smiled briefly.

“Mrs. Larkin. I thought you would be long asleep.”

“I can’t sleep. Neither can my husband. This raid tonight
was the last straw.” She was aware of Durell’s eyes objectively appraising her.
She heard the sound of her voice go on as if she accused DeGrasse of personal
responsibility for the war here. “Please, captain. You told me yourself that
Mr. Durell is going to try to reach the coast tonight.”

“Not tonight,” DeGrasse said.

“You have a truck out there. That’s what it’s for, isn't it?
I insist you take my husband and me with you."

“Mrs. Larkin, you do not appreciate the dangers —”

“I can’t stay here another minute. It’s important. My daddy
is worried enough already, and my husband’s work here is finished,
anyway. We’ve been waiting to go for days, and we won’t be put oil any longer.”

“You have waited because I could not spare a detachment of
men to safeguard your passage to Algiers. And I still cannot spare the
men."

“But Mr. Durell is going.”

“That is Durell’s business. That is his job.”

“I don’t mind the danger. It can’t be worse than right
here."

DeGrasse looked helplessly at Durell. Durell hadn't spoken
yet. He knew about the Larkins. Their presence in Marbruk had been worrying the
Frenchman. On the way over in the truck, DeGrasse had tentatively asked if he
would consider taking the Americans out of the danger zone, as a personal favor
to him. Now Durell looked beyond Jane and saw Chet Larkin open his bedroom door
and step into the hotel corridor. He appraised Chet quickly and accurately.

“I could use another gun,” he said, “it Larkin understands
the risks and is willing to accept them.”

Chet Larkin nodded. “I know the dangers.” He looked at Jane
and then at DeGrasse. “The rebels will be busy in the hills tonight, licking
their wounds. Now might be just the time to run for it. We could he in Algiers
by noon.

DeGrasse looked harassed. “There is no open road. It will be
most difficult. There may be an ambush waiting. How could I explain this to
headquarters? It would be calamitous if anything went wrong.”

“You needn’t worry about us, captain,” Chet said quietly.
“We’re willing to take our chances. My wife is very anxious to get back to the
States in the shortest possible time." He looked at Durell. “You said you
could use another gun. I’m a pretty good shot.”

“You may have to be very good,” Durell said.

All right, then. I’m very good.” Chet paused. “We’re all
packed and ready to go. I have no carbine, but I’ve a .38."

DeGrasse nodded reluctantly. “I can give you some automatic
weapons. And you will need a driver. Talek, my man in the truck, knows all the
routes to the coast. I can spare him.”

Durell looked down the hallway. Madeleine
Sardelle’s
door was only a few steps away. A new guard was
on duty there. He turned back to DeGrasse. “Is Mlle. Sardelle safe?”

DeGrasse looked angry suddenly. “There are some things you
could explain, you know. The first guard was knocked unconscious. You
returned to the hotel a few moments afterward, and then Felix discovered you
had gone out again and had locked the Sardelle girl in her room. Felix told me
of all this. You were missing for almost two hours,
m’sieu
.”

“Yes.”

-“Where did you go?”

“I visited an old friend,” Durell said.

“Of the rebels, perhaps?”

“No.”

“Then it was el-Abri.”

“Perhaps.”

DeGrasse looked coldly furious. “He has not surrendered yet,
that type. I doubt if he will. It was all a trick. Or did he offer to negotiate
again with you?”

“Not exactly,” Durell said. “In any case, I gave my word not
to speak of where I was or who I saw.”

“I understand that my business is to fight the
rebels,”

DeGrasse said bitterly. “I leave the politics to Paris, whatever
mess they make of it. It is not for me to conduct mysterious expeditions to
confer with old friends about old times. This belongs buried in the past.”

“The roots of the past sometimes bear surprising fruit,”
Durell said. He looked at Jane Larkin. “You and your husband better get ready.
I’ll meet you both in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”

Madeleine was awake. She sat on the edge of her bed, wearing
slacks and a thin sweater against the dawning chill of the desert. She twisted
to face Durell as he came in and closed the door.

“You’re back, then,” she said quietly. “Have you seen
Charley?”

“I have him with me,” Durell said. “We’re going now.

Her body stiffened for an instant. She looked surprised,
then displeased. “Now? Tonight? But the countryside
 
be too dangerous. Unless the plane has been
repaired. . .”

“We’re going by truck. Durell’s voice was flat. Get
ready now, please.”

She demurred again. “But the rebels are aroused. I cannot
see that Monsieur Brumont ordered us to risk the prisoner’s safety by hurrying
our departure this way. In a day or two, the situation will be clarified,
the countryside around here will be pacified—”

“Were you counting on that?” Durell asked.

She met his gaze, then looked away. She drew a deep breath.
“Durell I want to explain why I was in your room earlier.”

“You don’t have to explain. I know why you were waiting for
me, the way you were. It might have been interesting. It’s regrettable that we
had no chance to learn who could win on your field of battle.”

She flushed. “No, you do not understand. I was lonely.
I wanted—companionship. I was thinking of Charley. Where there is so much
smoke, there must be fire, as you would say. Perhaps I’ve been blinded,
because I care for him. But my job and my duty to Brumont—”

“Are you saying you have a Change of heart?” he smiled.

“Is it not possible?”

“Not with you, honey,” he said. “We’ve been operating under
a truce, you and I. But I’m calling it oft, as of now. Until we’re in that
truck, you don’t leave my sight. You don’t telephone or get in touch with
Charley’s friends. “Very well.” She stood up and picked up her small suitcase.
Her red hair was coiled in two thick braids at the nape of her neck. Her
slanted eyes regarded Durell with sudden wry amusement. “Our journey is not
ended. Perhaps we can yet engage on my field of battle. Or are you
faithful to your Miss Padgett?’

“Perhaps.”

“You Americans are such fools when it comes to morality.
What I was willing to offer was in loneliness, in search of simple friendship.
With no strings attached. You do not believe what I say about Charley. You call
us enemies now.”

“Just so I know where I stand,” Durell said shortly.

“Let’s go, shall we?”

Jane Larkin was aware of an odd excitement. She had walked
outside to the hotel terrace with Chet, where the canvas-covered truck was
parked facing the market place, and she had stood beside Chet in the chilly
night air as their suitcases were placed in back of the vehicle. The heavy
tarpaulin over the troop carrier had been pulled open by the back flaps,
and although she hadn't tried to peek, she had glanced inside.

She had been shocked to see Charles L’Heureux' pale, blazing
eyes. She saw his face, his pale hair and scowling dark brows, and then she saw
the quirk of his strong wide mouth as he laughed down at her and said softly,
“Hi, baby. You’re the Americans in town, huh?” His Maine accent was
unmistakable. “Good to see a fellow traveler, it you don’t mind mixing the
terms.”

She didn’t know what to say. His grin was sardonic as he
held up handcuffed wrists. “I’m the prisoner you heard about, all right. No
need to be afraid of me though, baby. Glad you’re coming along. It might be a
long, lonely ride.”

“Where are they taking you?” Jane asked. She knew the
question sounded inane. Somehow she hadn’t thought about the prisoner as a
tangible man. Certainly she hadn’t expected him to be this big, arrogant man.
“I mean, there have been all kinds of rumors about you. They say you shot
another American here in town—”

Chet spoke angrily. “Jane, get away from there. Don’t talk
to him.”

Something in his sharp tone made her suddenly contrary. She
leaned forward over the truck tailgate to see the prisoner better in the
interior dimness. He was sitting on one of two parallel benches running the
length of the truck body under the canvas top.

L’Heureux grinned down at her. “Everything you heard about
me is lies, baby. Do I look like a killer? I’ve been framed. It’s only for
political reasons, see? So who’s the creep who gives you orders?”

“My husband,” Jane said. She smiled. “We’re riding to
Algiers with you.”

Chet pulled her away from the truck with an angry hand.
“Jane, what’s the matter with you?”

“I'm only talking to the man,” she protested.

“You’ll ride up front with Durell, understand?”

“Why can’t I talk to him, Chet? What are you afraid of?”

“He should have been stood up against a wall and shot days
ago. Just stay away from him, that’s all,” Chet said.

Jane moved away from the truck and sat down on the stone wall
of the hotel terrace. The stars were beginning to fade in the segment of sky
she could see over the Catholic convent across the market place. She heard
L'Heureux’ mocking laughter from the truck and remembered the glitter of his
feral eyes. The bold and arrogant way the man had looked at her was strangely
exciting. She shivered, but it was not from the chill desert wind that had
sprung up recently. Then Chet returned to her.

“They say we’re going to start off by heading south.” He
seemed troubled, and he carried a carbine DeGrasse had given him. He looked
different, too, Jane thought. Chunky and somehow unreal with that rifle
in his hand. As if it were all a game they were playing, unreal but exciting.
Chet went on, “Durell thinks we ought to go in a wide circle and sweep back to
the coast on the
Farita
road by daylight. He thinks
well avoid any guerrilla ambushes that way, by starting out in the opposite
direction.”

“That sounds smart,” Jane said.

Chet hesitated, “Jane, listen, I don’t like any of it. We’re
safe here in Marbruk. This is crazy, rushing away before things settle down.”

“Can you guarantee it will?”

“No, but—”

“Chet, I want to go home. I’m sick of this place. I’m up to
here with it.” Jane’s voice sounded shrill, and she tried to soften her words.
“I don’t mind the danger. Besides, I’m sure nothing is going to happen to us.
By tomorrow we’ll be in Algiers and on the plane to France and then home.”

Chet looked at her with an expression she did not
understand. His jaw looked square and hard and angry. “Does home in Texas mean
that much to you, lane.”

“Of course.”

Durell was coming down the steps from the hotel. Madeleine
was with him. “If you’re all ready,” he said, “we can get started.”

Chapter Twelve

CHET requested that Jane sit up front in the cab with Durell
and the
goumier
,
Talek. The Arab driver was a small, slight man with a narrow face and a bad
scar over one eye, but he looked smart and military in the uniform of the
special native troops used by the French Army. Durell watched Madeleine greet
Charley as she climbed in the back with Chet. Their words were brief and cool,
a meaningless exchange of formalities. He wished he could see the girl’s face
more clearly, but the interior of the truck was too gloomy. He ordered
Madeleine to sit across from L’Heureux, and told Chet privately to keep them
that way. Chet sat near the tailgate, where he could watch the road unwinding
behind the truck.

The air blowing through the open cab windows was cold, but
the light was strengthening in the east. With the rising sun, the weight of the
Sahara heat would return in full violence.

Talek’s carbine was in a rack in the cab ceiling; overhead.
Durell kept his rifle in his lap. Jane peered t rough the windshield, but she
could see nothing alarming in the landscape. Her few attempts to question
Durell about the prisoner in the truck were met with quiet evasions.

“Aren’t we wasting precious time and mileage this way?” she
demanded.

“It may be the best way to avoid the rebels.”

“But even if we went directly, it would take four hours to
reach the coast,” she objected. “Going this way, we won't make it until late
afternoon. This pokey old truck doesn’t go much over thirty.”

“Sometimes the straightest distance between two points can
be the long way around,” Durell said.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t interfere. It’s just that I’m so
anxious to get home,” Jane said.

She turned her head and looked through the flap into
the interior of the truck. The first thing she saw was Charles L’Heureux’
eyes. He grinned at her. All she could see of Chet was his shoulder and the
back of his head as he leaned forward on the bench to keep a lookout through
the rear flap. The French girl, Madeleine, sat stiffly across from the
prisoner. There was something in the way Madeleine looked and smiled quietly at
L’Heureux that made Jane wonder if they knew each other better than they
pretended. A surprising touch of envy moved in her and shocked her.

Chet had been the only man in her life, and it was natural,
she thought, to wonder what other men might be like. How could she judge, if
she had no other standards by which to judge the man she had married? Jane turned
back and faced front, clenching her hands.

She shouldn’t be thinking like this, she told herself. It
was wrong, no matter how far apart she and Chet had drifted. It was this
strange country, she decided, the heat and the fighting and the hatreds
that made the very air electric with odd tensions.