office.
'Some of Professor Dawnay's calculations,' Abu said. 'This is the result Of handing the project to Miss Andre. It's quite extraordinary!'
He crossed to another filing cabinet, a locked one. He withdrew a bulky file of papers, sorted through them, and went off to talk to Andre. By the time he returned the output printer was beginning to work again.
Fleming, still lounging at the desk, occupied with his thoughts, looked up lazily. 'More stuff,' he said. 'What is it?'
Abu kept his back to Fleming. 'I'm afraid I'm not allowed to tell you, Dr Fleming.'
'Look!' Fleming paused, trying to curb his anger. 'What am I supposed to be here? In charge, or what?'
'I'm sorry,' Abu said with sincerity. 'But I have my orders.'
Fleming looked at him levelly. 'What have you given it?'
he asked again. But Abu stared back at him with gentle obstinacy.
'It is work which Mam'selle Gamboul wishes done. I am not at liberty to discuss it.'
'Then I'll stop it.'
'I'm afraid you won't, Dr Fleming.'
Abu nodded towards the nearest sentry, who was watching them with a sour, bored interest. Fleming turned on his heel and stalked out.
Outside the office another sentry was leaning against the pillar, shading himself from the glaring sun. The soldier abruptly stepped forward and snapped to attention.
Fleming glanced across the compound and saw Janine Gamboul walking beside an elderly bearded man and talking quickly and brightly. Abu came out and stood beside him.
'Who's that with the glamorous Gamboul?' Fleming asked.
'That is our President.' Abu's eyes were alight with pride.
'He must have been visiting Professor Dawnay's laboratory.
Her assistant told me that she's working on something quite new: a protective membrane to prevent water evaporating from the soil, but letting the oxygen and nitrogen molecules through so the land could breathe. It's a marvellous idea. It will make the desert blossom.'
'And no doubt about to take a leap forward.' Fleming nodded to the record sheets from the computer which Abu still held.
'I wonder if the President will be coming here,' said Abu hopefully.
But the President did not visit them. He glanced across to the computer. Gamboul said something. He nodded and disappeared into the headquarters building.
The afternoon siesta had put the town to sleep when Gamboul drove to Salim's residence. She found him taking his ease on the stone balcony, looking out over the quiet square and the acres of shabby roofs with a few minarets which made a dun-coloured pattern into the shimmering haze. He was in uniform, as he liked to be.
She threw down her wide-brimmed hat and crossed to the table where bottles and a bowl of ice stood.
Salim did not trouble to get up. 'Been doing your duty?' he murmured.
'I've taken the old fool round the establishment,' she answered, busy mixing her drink. 'That will keep him quiet for a bit. He was most impressed with the Dawnay woman.
Naturally,' - she gave a brittle laugh - 'I didn't take him into the computer building, though he asked what was happening there.' She sipped her drink, frowning as Salim made no effort to offer her a chair. 'I'm going inside; it's cooler, and there may be somewhere to sit.'
He heaved himself to his feet and followed her through the bead screen to the spacious room he used as an office. Across one wall was a detailed map of Azaran. Little flags of various colours were pinned here and there. Gamboul glanced at it with lazy curiosity and then stretched herself on a sofa. She was growing tired of Salim.
He came close, looking at her body in its thin and too tight dress. 'Who's the girl you had brought over with Fleming?'
he demanded.
Gamboul hunched her shoulders. 'I don't know. Abu says she is highly intelligent. Kaufman's report merely says she was connected with the Thorness computer. They used quite a number of females up there. Dawnay for example. Kaufman thinks the girl was connected with the destruction of the machine and Fleming's shielding her. Presumably they're lovers.'
Salim was disturbed. 'Have her watched closely,' he ordered. 'We don't want to risk sabotage. And you'd better get out of Fleming who she is. I'm sure you could manage that.'
She smiled at him, running her hand down her hip and thigh. 'I don't think I fancy Dr Fleming.' As if the subject bored her she got up and crossed to the map.
'What is all this playing around with little flags?'
Salim stuck his thumbs in his belt and stood solid and sure in front of the map. 'The flags mark troops I can rely on.
Roughly, an infantry battalion here, in Baleb, and a squadron of armoured cars. Some motorised units on the frontiers and the main army barracks at Quattara. Also the majority of the air force units.'
'To do what?' she asked.
'To support me. Us.' He corrected himself. 'The computer must be safe. It belongs to Intel, and Intel holds the concession from the President. And I am not yet the President.'
Gamboul studied his face. 'Is that what you want?' she asked.
Salim returned to the balcony to look over the city. His eyes lifted to the lovely old palace which stood on a slight eminence to the right. 'The President is a soft man,' he murmured.
'A tired man. He fought for independence, but now he thinks he can rest. He could be influenced - by any liberal-minded bumbler.'
Gamboul was close beside him, her body touching his.
'Like the Dawnay woman?' she suggested.
'Dawnay?' The idea seemed new to him and of no consequence.
'Anyone could persuade him to interfere with your work, and then you and I would lose control. We must prepare for that eventuality. Why do you think I came back?'
'You're planning a coup d'etat!' she said, surprise and admiration in her expression. 'And I didn't know.'
He turned and put his hands on her shoulders. 'You're with me, aren't you, Janine?'
She leaned forward until her body was pressed hard against him. 'I thought you knew,' she whispered. 'When will it be?'
He looked out across her shoulder to the rooftops. 'For Arabs time is a servant. When the time is right I shall act.
Perhaps two days; a week. Not more.'
At Fleming's insistent request Madeleine Dawnay asked for a doctor to come and see Andre. The efficient and smooth-running staff organisation of Intel said that they would have a neurologist in the compound within twenty-four hours.
He arrived the following morning. He was an Arab, who diffidently mentioned to Dawnay that he held a degree in neuro-surgery from the Radcliffe Infirmary at Oxford and had continued his studies at Johns Hopkins.
His examination of Andre was long and thorough and Dawnay was impressed.
She answered the knock on the door of the neat little sick bay and found Fleming outside. You can't see her yet,' she said, coming out to join him on the verandah. 'The doctor's still busy. Taking a lumbar puncture of a spinal fluid check.
But his preliminary diagnosis is much the same as ours. Her muscular system's going more and more wrong. Maybe some gland has packed up, or her nerve set-up is different from ours, needing a blood nutrient that was there when she was built but is now depleted.'
'You mean it wasn't in the blueprint?' he suggested.
Dawnay shrugged. 'It isn't being made now,' she said shortly.
'Could we synthesise it?'
'I wouldn't know where to start. Back home I might get advice and help .... '
'So what happens ?' he asked harshly.
'She'll lose the use of her muscles progressively. It'll show in her limbs most obviously, but one day it'll be the
