The Angels Weep - Smith Wilbur - Страница 138

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"I see you, Comrade Samson,"he said quietly. "That is my name no longer," Samson answered. "What is your name?" "Tungata Zebiwe." "I see you, Comrade Tungata,"Tebe nodded with satisfaction. "You worked in the Game Department. You understand guns, do you not?" Tebe did not wait for an answer. He opened one of the metal bins of ground meal that stood against the rear wall. He brought out a long bundle wrapped in a green plastic agricultural fertilizer bag and dusted off the powdery white meal. He undid the twine that secured it and handed the weapon that it contained to Tungata Zebiwe, who recognized it instantly. In the early days of the bush war, the security forces had mounted a publicity campaign to tempt informers to report the presence of guerrilla weapons in their villages. They had used television spots and newspaper advertisements. In the remote tribal trust areas they had made massive aerial drops of illustrated pamphlets, all offering a $5,000 reward for information leading to the recovery of a single one of these.

It was a 7.62mm. automatic Kalashnikov (AK) assault rifle. Tungata took it in his hands and found it surprisingly heavy for its size.

Unlike most NATO weapons, it was made not of metal-stamped components, but of milled steel. butt and stock were of laminated wood.

"These are the magazines." The Rhodesians called it the Banana gun because of these characteristic curved magazines. "Loading the mags," Tebe demonstrated, pushing the short light brass cartridges down into the mouth with his thumb. "Try it." Tungata was immediately competent, he had the second magazine loaded with its full thirty rounds in as many seconds.

"Good," Tebe nodded again, the wisdom of his choice confirmed.

"Now to load the rifle. Like this." He pressed the forward end of the magazine into the receiver slot and then tilted the rear end upwards.

There was a click as the catch engaged.

In less than three minutes Tebe had demonstrated why the AK was the preferred weapon of guerrilla troops the world around. Its ease of operation and its robust construction made it ideal for the task. With a racial sneer, the Rhodesians called it the only "kaffir-proof" weapon in the shop.

"Selector up as far as it will go and it's safe,"Tebe finished the demonstration. "Fully down is semi-automatic. In between is fully automatic." He showed Tungata the two Cyrillic letters stamped in the block. "AB," he said. "Russian for "Automatic". Take it." He handed it to Tungata, and he watched while he loaded and cocked and unloaded swiftly and neatly. "Yes, good. Remember the gun is heavy but it climbs quickly in automatic. Take a firm grip.".

Tebe rolled the weapon into a cheap grey blanket from which it could be freed instantly.

"The owner of this store is one of us," Tebe said. "He is even now loading supplies for us onto the bus. It is time for me to tell you why we are here, and where we are going." When Tungata and Tebe left the general dealer's store and sauntered towards the parked bus, the children had already arrived. There were almost sixty of them, the boys in khaki shirts and short pants, and the girls in blue gyrnslips with the green sash of St. Matthew's Mission School around their waists.

All of -them were bare-footed. They were chattering and giggling with excitement at this unexpected outing, this delightful release from the tedium of the schoolroom. Tebe had said they were the Standard VIII pupils, which meant their average age would be fifteen years. All the girls appeared to be pubescent, full-breasted under the coarse cloth of their school uniforms. Under the direction of their class teacher, a young bespectacled Matabele, they were lining up beside the dusty red bus in an obedient and orderly manner. As soon as he saw Tebe, the teacher hurried to meet him.

"It is as you ordered, Comrade." "What did you tell the fathers at the Mission?" "That it was a field exercise. That we would not return until after dark, Comrade." "Get the children into the bus."

"Immediately, Comrade." The bus' driver with his peaked cap perched authoritatively on his head, began to protest the influx of young passengers, none of them with a ticket, until Tebe stepped up behind him and pressed the Tokarev pistol into his ribs. Then he turned the pale grey of last night's camp-fire ashes and subsided into his seat.

The children scrambled for seats beside the windows, and then looked up with expectant shining faces.

"We are going on an exciting journey," the bespectacled teacher told them. "You must do exactly as you are told. Do you understand?"

"We understand," they replied in dutiful chorus.

Tebe touched the bus-driver on the shoulder with the barrel of the pistol.

"Drive northwards towards the Zambezi river and the Victoria Falls," he ordered softly. "If we should meet a security road-block, stop immediately and behave as you always do. Do you hear?" "Yes," mumbled the driver.

"I hear you, Comrade, and I will obey," Tebe prompted him.

"I hear YOU, Comrade, and I will obey." "If you do not, then you will be the very first to die. I give you my word on it." Tungata sat on the bench seat at the very rear of the bus, with the blanket-wrapped AK on the floorboards at his feet. He had counted the children and made a list. There were fifty-seven of them, of which twenty-seven were girls. As he asked their names, he made his estimate of each one's brightness and leadership potential and marked the best on the list with a star. He was pleased that the bespectacled teacher confirmed his choice. He had selected four of the boys and a girl.

She was fifteen years old, her name was Miriam and she was a slim pretty child with a quick smile and bright intelligent gaze. There was something in her that reminded him of Constance, and she sat beside him on the bench seat so that he could watch her respond to the first session of indoctrination.

While the bus roared on northwards beneath the marvel, ious vaulted roof of the forest, along the straight smooth macadamized highway, Comrade Tebe stood beside the driver's seat facing the upturned fresh young faces.

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