'Sure. Why not?' He uncoiled his lean length from the ground.

I watched him come. He was younger, taller, heavier and probably faster than I was, so I'd have to get in first. It's a stupid man who starts a fight without reckoning the odds. Burns knew that too; he was spoiling for a fight, as Zimmerman had warned me, and he had set up the time and place. It was years since I'd done much fighting except with words, while he was probably well in practice.

I was aware of figures forming the inevitable spectators' ring, but I couldn't afford to take my eyes off Burns. Witnesses were in any case going to be more on my side than on his, so long as I could hold my own.

I

I held up the bottle shard. 'Did you drink my whisky?'

'Sure I drank it. What's wrong with borrowing a little booze? It was good stuff while it lasted.'

I controlled my anger, and was so intent that when the interruption came I couldn't quite credit it. A hand came over my shoulder and took the broken glass from me. 'Do you mind if I have a look at that?' a voice said.

McGrath stepped out beside me and peered at the label. Everyone else stood motionless.

'I've seen this before. Isn't it the bottle you were keeping for medical emergencies, now?'

Then without warning the hand not holding the shard connected with Burns just at the angle of his jaw and the Texan grunted, staggered and dropped as though poleaxed. Only afterwards did I see the cosh.

I grabbed McGrath by the arm. 'God damn it, McGrath, I told you not to go off half-cocked!'

He said so that only I could hear, 'You couldn't have whipped this bucko and we both know it. He'd take you to pieces. I've had my eye on him; he's dangerous.' Coming from McGrath that was a ludicrous statement. 'Now if I don't defuse him he'll come looking for both of us and he might have a gun by then. He has to be made harmless. That OK with you?'

'Christ, no! I don't want him killed,' I said.

'I wouldn't kill him. I said made harmless. Now, have I your leave?'

I didn't have much choice. 'Don't hurt him,' I said.

'Not really hurt, no,' McGrath said. He pushed his way through the knot of men who had gathered round Burns. They made way instantly, though none faster than Jones and Bob Pitman. Neither Wingstead nor Kemp were present.

McGrath took Burns by his shirtfront, hauled him to his feet and shook him. 'Are you all right, Texas?' he asked.

Burns' eyes looked fogged. He put a hand up to his jaw and mumbled, 'You son of a bitch – you busted it!'

'Not at all,' said McGrath, 'Or you couldn't be saying so. I didn't hit you all that hard, did I now? And I don't think that's the language for someone in your position to be using.'

The hand that had held the cosh came up again and this time there was a knife in it. McGrath was a walking armoury. He pressed the sharp edge against Burns' throat and a ribbon of blood trickled down. He pushed Burns until the Texan's back was against a truck.

'Now listen,' McGrath said in a matter-of-fact voice, 'You can have your throat cut fast, slow or not at all. Take your pick.'

Burns choked. 'Not – not at all.'

'Well, then, you can answer a couple of questions, and if you give the right answers you get a prize, your life. Here comes the first question. Are you ready?'

'Yes,' whispered Burns.

McGrath said, 'Right, this is it. Name one boss in this camp.'

'Y-you.'

'Wrong,' said McGrath pleasantly. 'You're losing points, sonny. But I'll give you another go. Guess again.'

Burns hesitated and the knife shifted. More blood soaked into his shirt. 'Mannix?'

'Mister. Mannix, yes. But a little more respect with it, please. Now here comes the next question. Are you ready for it?'

'Christ, yes.' Burns face was running with sweat.

'Then here goes. Name another boss.'

'Wing… Mister Wingstead.'

'Oh, very good. See how well you can do when you try. So from now on when Mister Mannix or Mister Wingstead says for you to jump, you jump. Got that?'

'Yes.'

'And if you give either of them any trouble, guess what? Third question.'

'You bastard -'

McGrath's hand moved once more. Burns gasped, 'I won't give them any trouble. Let go of me, damn you!'

McGrath did just that and Burns sagged against the truck. His hand went to his throat and came away covered with blood. He stared at McGrath and then appealed to me. 'He's crazy! You keep him away from me.'

'He'll never touch you again. Not if you do what he's just told you,' I said. Then I pressed the lesson home. 'You said you'd borrowed that Scotch. I want it returned.'

He gaped at me. 'You're as crazy as he is! You know I can't do that.'

'In my book a man who takes what he can't return is a thief.'

He said nothing and I let it go at that. I turned to the others. 'All right, the show is over. There's no -'

I was interrupted by a distant commotion of voices.

'Mannix! Ben Hammond, you there?'

It was Kemp calling. Hammond shouted back, 'We're both here. What is it?'

Kemp came out of the dark at a jog trot, looking strained. Burns was forgotten in the face of a new crisis.

'Come up to the rig. Geoff wants you.'

'What the hell is it?'

'It's Max. He's gone into convulsions. We think he's dying.'

There was a murmur around us. To most of the crew Otterman was not well-known but he was the man who'd saved Wingstead's life at risk to his own. They were taking a close interest in his progress, and at that moment were no more free of superstition than the Nyalans who followed their talisman through the countryside: Otterman's sudden turn for the worse was a bad omen. As for me, I'd flown with him, liked him, and felt a stab of sorrow at Kemp's news.

And then the quiet of the night was shattered again. To the east there was thunder. There followed noises like Fourth of July rockets, and the earth shook underfoot. It was the sound of heavy gunfire and small arms. The war was catching up with us at last.

CHAPTER 18

Things began to happen fast.

From the military camp soldiers came running towards the warehouse. People milled about in the darkness and shouted questions. The men around me were galvanized into agitation which could become panic.

I shouted for attention. 'That was gunfire. Keep together and stay quiet. Let the soldiers do their job. Hammond, you there?'

'Yes, I'm here.'

'Set guards round all the transports, especially the trucks and cars. The rig can't be shifted so it's reasonably safe. Basil, go tell the doctors and staff to stay put whatever happens. I'm sorry about Max, but tell Geoff I need him here fast.'

He ran off and I went on, 'Zimmerman – if Russ Burns isn't fit get him to the medics. I'm going to find the Captain.'

I heard Burns mumble, 'I'll be OK, Harry,' and turned away. I wondered what had become of McGrath; at the very first sound of battle he had disappeared, cat-like, into the night. I headed off towards the military area, stumbling over camp litter. I heard guns firing again before I found Captain Sadiq.

He was at his staff car, and inevitably on the radio. He spoke for some time, looking alarmed and then ripped off the headphones.

'What's happening?' I asked.

'Army units coming from the east, from Kodowa. They ran into a patrol of men and started shooting.'

'We heard a big gun.'

'I think they shelled a truck.'

'They must be the rebels,' I said.

'Maybe, Mister Mannix. Men become nervous in the dark.'

'How many?'

'I don't know yet. My corporal reported many vehicles coming this way. Not in battalion strength but not far short. Then the transmission stopped.'