Derek said, "Honey, we sure aren't holding you. You're free to go any
time you want. And you can take this pal of yours along with you." He
jerked his head contemptuously at Mohammed Mohmoud.
Pierre Marimbert said, "Mademoiselle, we have no idea of where you two
met originally, nor how close your relationship, but the captain should
have remembered that I too am French. A gentleman, on first meeting a
lady, would never, never address her as _tu in our_ language."
Johnny sighed again and looked at his watch. "Other things pile up too,
Miss Desage. You let slip a few moments ago that you knew about the
pumps being destroyed. You said the rumor was all around camp. But it
couldn't be. The only persons who knew about it were myself, Pierre
and Derek. On top of that, there were no signs of bedouin or animals
near the exploded pumps; the person who did the job must have come in
an aircraft or air-cushion car. And, besides, we found the pin of a
hand grenade in your land rover this morning. We had thought at first
that dynamite had been used, but evidently you smuggled your much more
compact bombs across the desert with you. Obviously, no one would have
dreamed of searching your vehicle.
"No, Miss Desage, it's obvious that you detoured from the track on the
way down from Poste Weygand, went over to In Ziza, a comparatively
short distance, and blew up twenty-five of our pumps."
Johnny turned to the Malian officer now. "At the same time you were
coordinating with her, you and whatever gang is hiring you. Someone
supplied those Tuareg with the livestock and paid them to trek up here.
You, of course, turned your back and let them through. The same someone
who supplied the livestock also supplied Czech weapons."
Hélène Desage was still sputtering indignation. "Ridiculous! Why? What
would motivate me to such nonsense?"
Johnny grimaced. "The whole thing makes a beautiful story at a time
when the American government is debating the practicality of the whole
project. You could do quite a sob story on the poor, poverty-stricken
Tuareg having their livestock destroyed. Then, quite a tale about the
bedouin raiding our pumping stations and blowing them up. And quite a
tale about the Tuareg being armed with Czech weapons. Oh, I imagine
before it was through you'd have drawn a picture of civil war going
on here between the nomads and the Commission. Blowing up your own car
with a small bomb attached to the starter was just one more item. By
the way, were you going to do it yourself? Or did you intend to allow
one of our mechanics to kill himself?"
She flushed. "Don't be ridiculous. No one would have been hurt. The
bomb is a very small one. More smoke and flash than anything else."
"Well, thanks for small favors," Derek said sarcastically.
* * * * *
She gave up. "Very well," she snapped. "There is nothing you can
do. This whole project, as I said before, is nothing but American
boon-doggling, a way of plowing endless resources into a hole. Your
real motivation is an attempt to prevent depression and unemployment in
your country."
Pierre Marimbert said softly, "So you admit to this whole scheme to
discredit us?"
"Why not?" She turned to the door. "I will still write my articles.
It's my word or yours."
Derek grinned at her. "I think I could fall in love with you, honey,"
he said. "Life would provide few dull moments. However, you didn't
notice how nice and automated this office is. Card machines, electric
typewriters, all the latest--including tape recorders for office
conversations. You talked too much, honey."
"_Cochon!_" she shrilled at him. She whirled and was through the door.
Johnny turned to Mohammed Mohmoud. "I guess the best thing for you
would be to turn in your commission, Captain."