High Citadel. Desmond Bagley

your own decision,’ continued Forester. ‘What about you, Doctor Willis?’

      Willis looked up and his face was strained. ‘It’s difficult, isn’t it? You see, I’m not much of a fighter. Then again, it’s a question of the odds – can we win? I don’t see much reason in putting up a fight if we’re certain of losing – and I don’t see any chance at all of our winning out.’ He paused, then said hesitantly, ‘But I’ll go with the majority vote.’

      Willis, you bastard, you’re a fine example of a fencesitter, thought O’Hara.

      ‘Peabody?’ Forester’s voice cut like a lash.

      ‘What the hell has this got to do with us?’ exploded Peabody. ‘I’m damned if I’m going to risk my life for any wop politician. I say hand the bastard over and let’s get the hell out of here.’

      ‘What do you say, Miss Ponsky?’

      She gave Peabody a look of scorn, then hesitated. All the talk seemed to be knocked out of her, leaving her curiously deflated. At last she said in a small voice, ‘I know I’m only a woman and I can’t do much in the way of fighting, and I’m scared to death – but I think we ought to fight.’ She ended in a rush and looked defiantly at Peabody. ‘And that’s my vote.’

      Good for you, Miss Ponsky, cheered O’Hara silently. That’s three to fight. It’s now up to Armstrong – he can tip it for fighting or make a deadlock, depending on his vote.

      ‘Doctor Armstrong, what do you have to say?’ queried Forester.

      Armstrong sucked on his pipe and it made an obscene noise. ‘I suppose I’m more an authority on this kind of situation than anyone present,’ he observed. ‘With the possible exception of Señor Aguillar, who at present is cooking our lunch, I see. Give me a couple of hours and I could quote a hundred parallel examples drawn from history.’

      Peabody muttered in exasperation, ‘What the hell!’

      ‘The question at issue is whether to hand Señor Aguillar to the gentlemen on the other side of the river. The important point, as I see it affecting us, is what would they do with him? And I can’t really see that there is anything they can do with him other than kill him. Keeping high-standing politicians as prisoners went out of fashion a long time ago. Now, if they kill him they will automatically be forced to kill us. They would not dare take the risk of letting this story loose upon the world. They would be most painfully criticized, perhaps to the point of losing what they have set out to gain. In short, the people of Cordillera would not stand for it. So you see, we are not fighting for the life of Señor Aguillar; we are fighting for our own lives.’

      He put his pipe back into his mouth and made another rude noise.

      ‘Does that mean that you are in favour of fighting?’ asked Forester.

      ‘Of course,’ said Armstrong in surprise. ‘Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying?’

      Peabody looked at him in horror. ‘Jesus!’ he said. ‘What have I got myself into?’ He buried his head in his hands.

      Forester grinned at O’Hara, and said, ‘Well, Doctor Willis?’

      ‘I fight,’ said Willis briefly.

      O’Hara chuckled. One academic man had convinced another.

      Forester said, ‘Ready to change your mind, Peabody?’

      Peabody looked up. ‘You really think they’re going to rub us all out?’

      ‘If they kill Aguillar I don’t see what else they can do,’ said Armstrong reasonably. ‘And they will kill Aguillar, you know.’

      ‘Oh, hell,’ said Peabody in an anguish of indecision.