Hostage to Death (Stories from the Golden Age) by L. Ron Hubbard

Author:L. Ron Hubbard [Hubbard, L. Ron]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Adventure, Action & Adventure
ISBN: 9781592127634
Publisher: Galaxy Press LLC.
Published: 2009-10-10T10:00:00+00:00

Reilly, lying at full length in the tall green grass, squinted through field glasses at the dwindling rails, which were cut from sight by the end of the pass.

At his hand rested a black box from which a T rose like a tombstone. Wires trailed away from the box into the grass, worming their way out of sight, to reappear at the railroad.

A lynx-eyed Berber, Si Umzien, lay beside Reilly. “Do you see the smoke?”

“No, not yet. Do not be impatient.”

“You call me impatient,” said Si Umzien. “You have ranted all morning about the lateness of the train!”

Reilly took his eyes from the glasses and stared a hole through Si Umzien. The Berber subsided and turned over on his side to look up toward a fringe of trees.

“The lady, sidi, is not keeping out of sight.”

Reilly turned and looked up at the trees. Kay was leaning against a trunk, looking down at the valley and the rails. A silk djellaba flowed away from her shoulders to her Moroccan red boots. The yellow turban, swathed aslant about her head, was very bright—an excellent target. The white silk, baggy-sleeved shirt was bound in tight against her waist by a broad red sash—which was also a good target.

“Kay!” called Reilly. “Get out of sight! They’ll spot you from the train!”

A murmur of assent went up from the crumpled grass, where some eighty men lay concealed.

Kay walked down to Reilly and dropped on her knees beside him. “It was cold among the trees. I’m sorry. This has become so common, I forgot there is danger.”

“You never can tell,” said Reilly, turning to the glasses. “Some sniper across the valley might think he needed to warm his gun.” He grinned suddenly. “We’ve come through this far—don’t let anything happen now.”

Si Umzien’s face was alight. “Are you going to blow up the engine this time, sidi?”

“No.”

“You never blow up the engine!” There was disappointment in his voice.

“I have to send them along,” said Reilly. “And besides, as I’ve said before, I don’t like to blow up engines. It reminds me of something I try hard enough to forget.”

Si Umzien shrugged. “Just so there is loot, sidi.” He remained silent for a moment. “They always amaze me, these forays. You try not to kill the Franzawi, and you let them escape. And the trains continue to come out of Fez loaded down with ammunition and guns.”

“Always?”

“Well, not always. There were the four or five times the soldiers on the trains fought, and that other time a detachment of Spanish killed half of us before we killed them.”

“We are not at war with France,” said Reilly. “Abd el-Krim does not want me to kill the Franzawi.”

“Our Lord is hard to please,” said Si Umzien.

“Shut up, little ape!” hissed Reilly. “There comes the train!”

All eyes swept to the end of the valley, from whence came a curling column of greasy smoke. A whistle shrilled in a cloud of white steam, the sound reaching the slope after the steam was gone.

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