Part 5 (2/2)

Kenny Ballalou said with considerable dignity, ”See here, friend.

Don't you know the difference between brigandage and international finance?”

”No,” Elmer said flatly.

”Hm-m-m,” Kenny said.

”Let's get on with this,” Homer said. ”The forming of El Ha.s.san's basic government is beginning to take on aspects of a minstrel show.

Then we've all declared ourselves in ... except Cliff.”

All eyes turned to the bulky Californian.

He sat scowling.

Homer said, easily, ”You're not being urged, Cliff. You can turn back at this point.”

Elmer Allen growled, ”You came to Africa to help your race develop its continent. To conquer such problems as sufficient food, clothing and shelter for all. To bring education and decent medical care to a people who have had possibly the lowest living standards anywhere. Can you see any way of achieving this beyond the El Ha.s.san movement?”

Cliff looked at him, still scowling stubbornly. ”That's not why I came to Africa.”

Their eyes were all on him, but they remained silent.

He said, defensively, ”I'm no do-gooder. I took a job with the Africa for Africans a.s.sociation because it was the best job I could find.”

Isobel broke the silence by saying softly, ”I doubt it, Cliff.”

The big man stood up from where he'd been seated on the bed. ”O.K., O.K. Possibly there were other angles. I wanted to travel. Wanted to see Africa. Besides, it was good background for some future job. I figured it wouldn't hurt me any, in later years, applying for some future job. Maybe with some Negro concern in the States. I'd be able to say I'd put in a few years in Africa. Something like a Jew in New York who was a veteran of the Israel-Arab wars, before the debacle.”

They still looked at him, none of them accusingly.

He was irritated as he paced. ”Don't you see? Everybody doesn't have this _dream_ that Homer's always talking about. That doesn't mean I'm abnormal. I just don't have the interest you do. All I want is a good job, some money in the bank, security back in the States. I'm not interested in das.h.i.+ng all over the globe, getting shot at, dying for some ideal.”

Homer said gently, ”It's up to you, Cliff. n.o.body's twisting your arm.”

There was sweat on the big man's forehead. ”All I came to Africa for was the job, the money I got out of it,” he repeated, insisting.

To Homer Crawford suddenly came the realization that the other needed an out, an excuse. An explanation to himself for doing something he wanted to do but wouldn't admit because it went against the opportunistic code he told himself he followed.

Homer said, ”All right. How much are you making as a field worker for the Africa for Africans a.s.sociation?”

Cliff looked at him, uncomprehending. ”Eight thousand dollars, plus expenses.”

”O.K., we'll double that. Sixteen thousand to begin with, as El Ha.s.san's Minister of Treasury and whatever other duties we can think of to hang on you.”

There was a long moment of silence, unbroken by any of the others.

Finally in a gesture of desperation, Cliff Jackson waved at the money and checks sitting on the center table. ”Sixteen thousand a year! The whole organization doesn't have enough to pay me six months' salary.”

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