against neighboring South Africa,promising the liberation of that strife-torn land. Most Negroleaders, having just won representation in the South AfricanParliament, told him to liberate his own country. They believedthey could use their first small voice in the government to wintrue freedom for their people.
But the radio assault and the arms buildup continued. Early in1982, South Africa claimed the Belderkan Army exceeded the sizeagreed to in the Disarmament Treaty. The European countries andsome African nations joined in the accusation. China called theuproar a vicious slur on a new African nation. The United Statesand Russia, trying not to get entangled, asked for moreinvestigation by the UN.
But the evidence was clear. Umluana was defying world law. If hegot away with it, some larger and more dangerous nation mightfollow his precedent. And the arms race would begin again.
The Inspector General decided. They would enter Belderkan, arrestUmluana and try him by due process before the World Court. If theplan succeeded, mankind would be a long step farther from nuclearwar.
Read didn't know much about the complicated political reasons forthe arrest. He liked the Corp and he liked being in the Corp. Hewent where they sent him and did what they told him to do.
* * * * *
The car skimmed above the tree-tops. The driver and his twopassengers scanned the sky.
A plane would have been a faster way to get out of the country.But then they would have spent hours flying over Africa, withBelderkan fighters in hot pursuit, other nations joining thechase and the world uproar gaining volume. By transmitter, if allwent well, they could have Umluana in Geneva in an hour.
They were racing toward Miaka, a branch transmitter station. FromMiaka they would transmit to the Belderkan Preserve, a famoustourist attraction whose station could transmit to any point onthe globe. Even now a dozen inspectors were taking over the GamePreserve station and manning its controls.
They had made no plans to take over Miaka. They planned to getthere before it could be defended.
"There's no military base near Miaka," Rashid said. "We might getthere before the Belderkans."
"Here comes our escort," Read said.
A big car rose from the jungle. This one had a recoilless riflemounted on the roof. The driver and the gunner waved and fell inbehind them.
"One thing," Read said, "I don't think they'll shoot at us while_he's_ in the car."
"Don't be certain, corporal. All these strong-arm movements arealike. I'll bet Umluana's lieutenants are hoping he'll become adead legend. Then they can become live conquerors."
Sergeant Rashid came from Cairo. He had degrees in science andhistory from Cambridge but only the Corp gave him work thatsatisfied his conscience. He hated war. It was that simple.
Read looked back. He saw three spots of sunlight about twohundred feet up and a good mile behind.
"Here they come, Sarge."
Rashid turned his head. He waved frantically. The two men in theother car waved back.
"Shall I duck under the trees?" the driver asked.
"Not yet. Not until we have to."
Read fingered the machine gun he had picked up when he got in thecar. He had never been shot at. Twice he had faced an unarmedmob, but a few shots had sent them running.
Birds flew screaming from their nests. Monkeys screeched andthrew things at the noisy, speeding cars. A little cloud of birdssurrounded each vehicle.
The escort car made a sharp turn and charged their pursuers. Thebig rifle fired twice. Read saw the Belderkan cars scatter.Suddenly machine-gun bullets cracked and whined beside him.
"Evade," Rashid said. "Don't go down."
Without losing any forward speed, the driver took them straightup. Read's stomach bounced.
A shell exploded above them. The car rocked. He raised his eyesand saw a long crack in the roof.
"Hit the floor," Rashid said.
They knelt on the cramped floor. Rashid put on his gas mask andRead copied him. Umluana breathed like a furnace, stillunconscious from the injection Rashid had given him.
_I can't do anything_, Read thought. _They're too far away toshoot back. All we can do is run._
The sky was clear and blue. The jungle was a noisy bazaar ofcolor. In the distance guns crashed. He listened to shellswhistle by and the whipcrack of machine-gun bullets. The carroller-coastered up and down. Every time a shell passed, hecrawled in waves down his own back.
Another explosion, this time very loud.
Rashid raised his eyes above the seat and looked out the rearwindow. "Two left. Keep down, Read."
"Can't we go down?" Read said.
"They'll get to Miaka before us."
He shut his eyes when he heard another loud explosion.
Sergeant Rashid looked out the window again. He swore bitterly inEnglish and Egyptian. Read raised his head. The two cars behindthem weren't fighting each other. A long way back the tree-topsburned.
"How much farther?" Rashid said. The masks muffled their voices.
"There it is now. Shall I take us right in?"
"I think you'd better."
* * * * *
The station was a glass diamond in a small clearing. The driverslowed down, then crashed through the glass walls and hovered bythe transmitter booth.
Rashid opened the door and threw out two grenades. Read jumpedout and the two of them struggled toward the booth with Umluana.The driver, pistol in hand, ran for the control panel.
There were three technicians in the station and no passengers.All three panicked when the psycho gas enveloped them. They ranhowling for the jungle.
Through the window of his mask, Read saw their pursuers land inthe clearing. Machine-gun bullets raked the building. They gotUmluana in the booth and hit the floor. Read took aim and openedfire on the largest car.
"Now, I can shoot back," he said. "Now we'll see what they do."
"Are you ready, Rashid?" yelled the driver.
"Man, get us out of here!"
The booth door shut. When it opened, they were at the GamePreserve.
The station jutted from the side of a hill. A glass-walledwaiting room surrounded the bank of transmitter booths. Readlooked out the door and saw his first battlefield.
Directly in front of him, his head shattered by a bullet, a deadinspector lay behind an overturned couch.
Read had seen dozens of training films taken during actualbattles or after atomic attacks. He had laughed when otherrecruits complained. "That's the way this world is. You peoplewith the weak stomachs better get used to it."
Now he slid against the rear wall of the transmitter booth.
A wounded inspector crawled across the floor to the booth. Readcouldn't see his wound, only the pain scratched on his face andthe blood he deposited on the floor.
"Did you get Umluana?" he asked Sergeant Rashid.
"He's in the booth. What's going on?" Rashid's Middle East Oxfordseemed more clipped than ever.
"They hit us with two companies of troops a few minutes ago. Ithink half our men are wounded."
"Can we get out of here?"
"They machine-gunned the controls."
Rashid swore. "You heard him, Read! Get out there and help thosemen."
He heard the screams of the wounded, the crack of rifles andmachine guns, all the terrifying noise of war. But since hiseighteenth year he had done everything his superiors told him todo.
He started crawling toward an easy-chair that looked like goodcover. A bullet cracked above his head, so close he felt theshock wave. He got up, ran panicky, crouched, and dove behind thechair.
An inspector cracked the valve on a smoke grenade. A white fogspread through the building. They could see anyone who tried torush them but the besiegers couldn't pick out targets.
Above the noise, he heard Rashid.
"I'm calling South Africa Station for a copter. It's the only wayout of here. Until it comes, we've got to hold them back."
Read thoug
ht of the green beret he had stuffed in his pocket thatmorning. He stuck it on his head and cocked it. He didn't needplain clothes anymore and he wanted to wear at least a part ofhis uniform.
Bullets had completely shattered the wall in front of him. Hestared through the murk, across the broken glass. He was CorporalHarry Read, UN Inspector Corps--a very special man. If he didn'tdo a good job here, he wasn't the man he claimed to be. Thismight be the only real test he would ever face.
* * * * *
He heard a shout in rapid French. He turned to his right. Men inred loincloths ran zigzagging toward the station. They carriedlight automatic rifles. Half of them wore gas masks.
"Shoot the masks," he yelled. "Aim for the masks."
The machine gun kicked and chattered on his shoulder. He picked atarget and squeezed off a