Dave looked around at them, one by one. "It means," he said, "that the
Arab Legion is going to be reinforced tomorrow morning by a full
regiment of paratroopers."
"Holy Mackerel," Cliff groaned. "We've had it. Another regiment of
crack troops in Tamanrasset and we'll _never_ take the town."
Dave shook his head. "That's not the big thing. The paratroopers
aren't going to drop in Tamanrasset. They're going to hit every oasis,
every water hole, in a circumference of two hundred miles."
There was an empty silence.
Homer Crawford said finally, evenly, "In the expectation that every
follower of El Hassan in the Sahara will either surrender or die of
thirst, eh?" He didn't seem sufficiently impressed by the threatening
disaster. He looked at Dave questioningly. "Why do you bother to tell
us, Dave, if you're on the other side?"
Dave grunted sour amusement. "Because I've just become a full member
of the team. I resigned from the Party tonight."
"Brother," Bey said, "you sure pick a helluva time to join up." He
obviously was expressing the opinions of the majority.
Homer Crawford came to his feet and looked around at them. "All
right," he said. "A new complication. Let's face up to it. There's
always an answer. We're in the clutch, let's fight our way out."
Largely, they stared at him, but he ignored their dismay. He looked
from one to the other. "We need some ideas. Let's kick it around.
Isobel, Cliff, Jack, Kenny--?" His eyes went from one to the other.
Obviously his own mind was churning.
They shook their heads dumbly.