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"We stop the first outward-bound train that passes by here after dark," Pitt answered, "and borrow it."
"Trains have communication systems," said Pembroke-Smythe. "The engineer will scream bloody murder if you attempt to abscond with his train."
"Once alerted, the Malians will block the track down the line," finished the Swedish officer.
"Don't give it another thought," Pitt said reproachfully. "Just leave it to old Jesse James Pitt and Butch Cassidy Giordino. We've been practicing the old-fashioned art of silent train hijacking for at least. . ." He looked at Giordino. "Al?"
"At least a week from last
Thursday," Giordino responded.
Pembroke-Smythe looked at Levant forlornly. "One might be advised to increase our insurance premiums."
"Too late for that now," said Levant, surveying the darkened interior of the fort. "These walls were never built to stand up against air-to-ground missiles or heavy artillery. Kazim's forces can reduce this place to rubble in half an hour. So to prevent problems, we have to maintain it's abandoned look."
"The Malians won't be going up against helpless civilians this time," Pembroke-Smythe said resolutely. "The ground is level as a cricket field for 2 kilometers in every direction. No cover for attacking forces. Those of us who survive any air assault will make Kazim pay a heavy price in blood before he takes this place."
"You better hope he hasn't any tanks in the area," Giordino reminded him.
"Post lookouts on the ramparts," Levant ordered. "Then search for an opening leading below-ground. As I recall during my visit there was an arsenal to store shells and ammunition."
As Levant suggested, steps leading underground were quickly found beneath a floor in the barracks. The two small rooms below were empty except for a few open metal boxes that once held clips of rifle cartridges. The captives of Tebezza were quickly unloaded and assisted below, thankful to be out of the personnel vehicles and on firm earth again. The medical team made them as comfortable as possible and tended to those in serious condition.
The tactical team's vehicles were soon hidden and covered over to look like piles of debris. By the time the sun threw its heat against the walls, the old Foreign Legion fort had regained its abandoned appearance. The two overriding dilemmas facing Levant were discovery before nightfall and the vulnerability to air attack. He felt little sense of security. Once caught, there was no place to run. Already, the guards on the ramparts wistfully watched a train leave the waste project for the Mauritania coast, grimly longing to be on it.
Pitt surveyed what had been a motor pool with a collapsed roof. He inspected a dozen steel drums of diesel fuel half buried under a pile of old trash. He tapped the metal containers and found six of them nearly full. He was in the act of unscrewing the spout caps as Giordino strolled under the shelter.
"Planning on making a fire?" he asked.
"Might not be a bad idea if we're hit by armored vehicles," said Pitt. "The UN troops lost their anti-tank missile launchers when their aircraft blew up:"
"Diesel fuel," mused Giordino, "must have been stored here by the construction crew that laid the railroad."
Pitt probed a finger through the spout opening and then held it up. "As pure as the day it came out of the refinery."
"What good is it except for Molotov cocktails?" Giordino asked with a dubious expression. "Unless you want to boil it and play knights of old by pouring it on the enemy when they scale the walls?"
"You're getting warm."
Giordino grimaced at the pun. "Five men and a small boy couldn't lift one of those drums and carry it to the walls, not when it's full to the gills."
"Ever see a torsion spring bow?"
"Not in my lifetime," Giordino grunted. "Will I sound stupid if I ask you to draw a picture?"
To Giordino's surprise Pitt did just that. He hunched down, pulled a double-edged commando knife from a leg sheath, and began sketching a diagram in the dust on the floor. The design was rough, but Giordino recognized what Pitt was attempting to project. When Pitt was finished, he looked up.
"Think we can build one?"
"Don't see why not," said Giordino. "Plenty of beams in the fort to choose from, and the personnel vehicles car; y lengths of nylon line for rock climbing and emergency towing. The catch, as I see it, is we'll need something to provide torsion."
"The leaf springs on the rear axles?"
Giordino pondered a moment, then nodded. "They might work. Yes by God, they should work perfectly."
"Probably a waste of time," said Pitt, studying hip drawing. "No reason to think one of Kazim's patrols will stumble in here and blow the whistle before train time."
"Eleven hours until dark. It will give us something to keep us occupied."
