Power of the Sword - Smith Wilbur. Страница 55

The case was filled with small packages, each neatly wrapped in brown paper and sealed with red wax. He picked out one package, favouring his injured hand, and read aloud the inscription in Twentyrnan-Jones ornate old-fashioned penmanship:

156 PIECES TOTAL 382 CARATS

He tore open the heavy cartridge paper with his teeth and shook out a sprinkle of gems into the palm of his injured hand. In the white sunlight they had that peculiar soapy sheen of uncut diamonds.

Very pretty, he murmured and dropped the loose stones into his pocket. He packed the torn parcel back into the despatch case and closed the lid.

I knew you were a murderer, she said. I never thought you a common thief. You stole my boats and my company. Don't talk to me about thieves. He tucked the despatch case under his arm and stood up.

He went round to the boot of the Daimler and managed to open it a crack, even though the vehicle was inverted, and he checked the contents.

Good, he said. You've had the sense to bring spare water.

Twenty gallons will last you a week, but they'll find you before then. Abrahams is sending out an escort to meet you. I intercepted the instruction from Twenty-man-jones. You swine, she whispered.

I will cut the telegraph wires before I leave. As soon as that happens they will realize at both ends that something is wrong. You'll be all right. Oh God, I hate you. Stay with the vehicle. That's the first law of desert survival. Don't go wandering off. They will rescue you in about two days, and I will have two days Start. I thought I hated you before, but now I know the real meaning of the word. I could have taught it to you, he said quietly, as he picked the abandoned shotgun out of the sand. I came to know it well, over the years that I was rearing your son. Then again when you came back into my life only to tear down everything I ever dreamed about and worked for. He swung the shotgun like an axe against one of the boulders. The butt shattered but he went on until it was bent and battered and useless. He dropped it.

Then he slung the Mauser over his shoulder and transferred the despatch case to his other hand. He held the injured hand in its blood-wet wrapping against his chest.

Clearly the pain was fierce; he had paled under his deep bronze tan and there was a catch in his voice as he went on.

I tried not to hurt you, if you hadn't struggled-! he broke off. We will not meet again, ever. Goodbye, Centaine. We will meet again, she contradicted him. You know me well enough, you must realize that I will not rest until I have full retribution for this day's work. He nodded. I know you will try. He turned away.

Lothar! she called sharply, and then softened her voice when he turned back. I'll make you a bargain, your company and your boats free of all debt for my diamonds. A bad bargain. He smiled sadly. 'By now the plant and boats are worth nothing, while your diamonds 'Plus fifty thousand pounds and my promise not to report this affair to the police. She tried to keep the edge of desperation out of her voice.

Last time it was I who was begging, do you recall? No, Centaine, even if I wanted, I could not go back now. I have burned my bridges. He thought about the horses, but could not tell her. No bargain, Centaine. Now I must go. Half the diamonds, leave half, Lothar.

Why?

For the love we once shared. He laughed bitterly. You will have to give me a better reason than that. All right. if you take them you will destroy me, Lothar. I cannot survive their loss. Already I am finely drawn. I will be utterly ruined. As I was when you took my boats. He turned and trudged through the sand to the bank, and she stood up.

Lothar De La Rey! she shouted after him. You refused my offer - then take my oath instead. I swear, and I call on God and all his saints to witness, I swear that I will never rest again until you swing by the neck from the gallows., He did not look back, but she saw him flinch his head at the threat. Then cradling his injured wrist and burdened by the rifle and the despatch case, he climbed the high bank and was gone.

She sank down on the sand and a wave of reaction swept over her. She found she was shaking wildly and uncontrollably. Despondency and humiliation and despair came at her in waves like a storm surf battering an unresisting beach, sweeping over it then sucking back and gathering and rushing forward again. She found she was weeping, thick, slow tears dissolving the clots of his drying blood from her lips and chin, and her tears disgusted her as much as the taste of blood at the back of her throat.

Disgust gave her the strength and resolution to pull herself to her feet and cross to the Daimler. Miraculously the water bag was still on its bracket. She washed away the blood and the tears. She gargled the taste of his blood from her mouth and spat it pink into the sand and she thought of following him.

He had taken the revolver and the shotgun was a battered and twisted piece of steel.

Not yet- she whispered, but very soon. I have given you my oath on it, Lothar De La Rey. Instead she went to the boot of the inverted Daimler. She had to scoop away the sand with her hands before she could get it fully open. She took out the two ten-gallon cans of water and the canisters of industrial diamonds, carried them to the shade of the bank and buried them in the sand to hide them and to keep the water as cool as possible.

Then she returned to the Daimler and impatiently unpacked the other survival equipment that she always carried, suddenly deadly afraid that the telegraph tap had been offloaded or forgotten, but it was there in the tool box with the wheel jack and spanners.

She lugged the reel of wire and the haversack containing the tap as she followed Lothar's tracks up the bank and found where he had tethered his horse.

He said he was going to cut the telegraph, She shaded her eyes and peered along the river course. He should have guessed I would have carried a tap with me. He isn't going ge his two days start. She picked out the line of telegraph poles cutting across the road loop and the bend of the river. The tracks of Lothar's horse followed the bank, and she broke into a run and trotted along them.

She saw the break in the wires from two hundred yards off. The severed copper wires dangled to earth in two lazy inverted parabolas and she quickened her pace. When she reached the spot where the telegraph line crossed the river and looked down the bank she immediately recognized the remnants of Lothar's camp. Sand had been hastily kicked over the fire, but the embers still smouldered.

She dropped the coil of wire and the haversack and scrambled down the bank. She found the dugout and realized that more than one man had been living here for some considerable time. There were three mattresses of cut grass.

Three. She puzzled over it for a few moments, and then worked it out. He has his bastard with him. She still couldn't bring herself to think of Manfred as her son. And the other one will be Swart Hendrick. He and Lothar are inseparable. She ducked from the dugout and stood for a moment undecided. It would take time to rig the tap to the severed wires, and it was vitally important to find out which way Lothar had ridden if she was to set the pursuit on him before he got clear.

She made her decision. I'll rig the telegraph after I know which way to send them. It was unlikely he would head east into the Kalahari.

There was nothing out there.

He'll head back towards Windhoek, she guessed, and she made her first cast in that direction. The area around the camp was thickly trodden with spoor of horse and men.

They had been here for at least two weeks, she judged. Only her Bushman training enabled her to make sense of the tangled tracks.

They didn't go out that way, she decided at last. Then they must have headed south for Gobabis and the Orange river. She made her next cast in that direction, circling the southern perimeter of the camp, and when she found no spoor fresher than the previous day, she looked to the north.