The Rat Patrol 3 - The Trojan Tank Affair (3 page)

The bartender pointed to a door behind the bar. Troy slid Tully over and leaped across to help stand Hitch against the wall while Moffitt came across. From the corners of his eyes he could see the sailors, all three heads turned in his direction. The bartender unlocked the door and held it open. A flight of steps led up into the night.

"Across the roof tops to the boulevard," the bartender said in a low, hoarse voice. "I lock door after you."

"Swallow the key," Troy growled. "Don't let those sailors out this way."

"I keep them here," the bartender said, eyes growing angry. "They start the fight."

Breathing heavily, Troy tottered up the steep stairway and dumped Tully on the paved, flat roof under the blanketed sky. It was dark and little of the light from the boulevard crept up the walls to the roofs. Only a black patchwork pattern showed the walls that separated the one-story structures. The chill night air was dank and tasted moldy from the sea. Shouts and curses, the slap of running feet and an occasional whack sounded from the street at the front of the Sidi Bar where the MPs were closing in. Troy glanced at the glowing figures of his watch. It was oh-one-thirty.

"Half hour to reach the airfield," he said crisply to Moffitt. "We'll never make it if we have to carry them." 

"Nor shall we make it if we wait for motor pool transportation," Moffitt observed. "We need a flying carpet. Shall we see whether we can revive the topers? There's a cistern near the front of the building, I believe."

"I'd like to dump them in and drown them," Troy snapped, starting with Moffitt for the darkly outlined round tank. "We can carry water in my hat."

"I often wondered whether that were really possible," Moffitt said and chuckled. "Or only an invention of your cinema industry." He clambered atop the tank and removed the lid. "Hand it up and we shall see. What did you make of the sailors?"

"Something cockeyed about them," Troy said, reaching his hat full of water down from Moffitt and feeling a cold trickle run into his arm pits. He shivered and swore. "Don't fill it so full, Doctor. I think the sailors planned to take Hitch and Tully to the cleaners and the girls were in it with them."

"Something like that, Sam," Moffitt said, hopping down. He started back with Troy. "I don't believe their papers were in order. They seemed confused and frightened when the MPs started moving in."

"Maybe they'd jumped their ship," Troy said, water sloshing in his hat and spilling on his pants.

Troy doused Tully but he did not respond. Moffitt dragged him back against the parapet, bracing him in a sitting position and slapping his face methodically while Troy ran back for more water. After three treatments, Tully slowly raised his head. Moffitt gave him one more sharp slap and went to work with Troy on Hitch who stumbled to his feet with his arms flailing after the hat had been emptied on him twice. Troy jerked Tully upright and threw another hat full of water on him for good measure.

"Come on," he said roughly, clapping the cold, wet hat on his head. He gripped Tully by the arm and started across the roof of the Sidi Bar. "A hell of a time you picked to pass out."

Tully allowed himself to be dragged, silent and improving. Hitch staggered beside Moffitt who helped support him with his arm around his waist.

"My head's a-buzzing worse than a hive full of bees," Tully complained in a thick voice, tripping and half falling.

"If you can't drink, don't," Troy said flatly, pulling Tully's shambling feet along.

"I never been tight in my life, Sarge," Tully argued weakly.

"Until tonight," Troy corrected angrily. He helped Tully over the wall that separated the roof of the bar from the next building. A dozen roofs away, the dimmed lights along the boulevard glowed feebly.

"I wasn't tight tonight," Tully said and groaned.

"Knock it off," Troy barked. "I'm in no mood to listen to excuses."

Tully was walking more steadily now. He breathed deeply, sucking in great lungs full of the moist, cold air.

"I wasn't tight," he insisted. "They slipped me a Mickey."

"I said I don't need excuses," Troy repeated sharply.

"It's the truth, so help me," Tully said stubbornly. "Oh, my aching head. Them three sailors slipped Hitch and me a Mickey."

Troy stopped short and looked at Tully. He could see only the outline of his head, none of his features, but Tully's voice sounded as if he were telling the truth.

"How could the sailors slip you and Hitch a Mickey?" he asked tightly.

Hitch slouched up with Moffitt and they stopped beside Troy and Tully.

"It was like this, Sarge," Tully said, slumping. "After you and Moffitt left, them three sailors come over to the table. Hitch and me thought they was looking for a fight and we was ready for them. But they come over friendly like and said no hard feelings. Said they wanted to buy a drink for us."

"That's right, Sarge," Hitch said. "They said they hadn't recognized us before but since we were the Rat Patrol, they wanted to buy a drink for us."

"The Navy said they recognized you as the Rat Patrol?" Troy asked softly.

"That's what them sailors said," Tully said. "They said they'd heard about us and recognized us by our hats."

"This doesn't make sense, Doctor," Troy turned and said to Moffitt.

"It's difficult to believe our fame has spread so far," Moffitt said with a short laugh.

Troy swung back to Tully. "The Navy doesn't know we exist," he said savagely. "What's more, the Navy doesn't give a damn. What else happened? What did they want to know?"

"Come to think of it, it was kind of funny," Tully said slowly, pulling a kitchen match from his pocket and chewing thoughtfully at it. "They knew we was based at Bir-el-Alam and wanted to know when we was going back."

"Had you let it slip we were at Bir-el-Alam?" Troy demanded.

"You know us better than that, Sarge," Tully drawled. "We didn't have to tell them nothing. They already knew."

"All we told them," Hitch interrupted, "was that we were here on pass and out for fun."

"What else?" Troy asked quietly although inside he was seething.

"We told you we didn't tell them nothing," Tully said sulkily. "When Hitch said we was out for fun, them sailors halfway laughed and said for us to go ahead and have our fun. They said if we was to get drunk, they'd take care of us."

"Then one of them went to the bar and brought back a beer for each of us," Hitch said. "Except the girls. They'd left. They did a fast fade-out."

"The beer didn't taste right but that wasn't nothing new," Tully said.

"How did the fight start?" Troy asked.

"We drunk the beer and right away the Navy wanted to hustle us out of the bar," Tully said.

"They tried to drag us out," Hitch said indignantly. "I swung on one of them but I was beginning to have a little trouble seeing straight. So he and another of them grabbed me by the arms and the other got his arm around Tully's neck. They were going to force us out of there. Some GIs at the next table didn't like the way the Navy was treating the Army and took them on. All hell started to break loose but I remember the sailors backing away, as if they didn't want any part of the fight. I think that's when Tully and I passed out. I don't remember anything after that until now. But we didn't pass out from drinking, They slipped us a Mickey."

"Yep," Tully said, "and they wasn't no sailors, neither." 

"What makes you think that?" Troy asked quickly.

"The way they talked," Hitch spoke up. "They didn't use the right words. They said 'comrad' instead of 'mate.' And 'kilometer' instead of 'knot.' And 'kit' instead of 'gear.' "

Troy swore hotly.

"You think they were Jerries?" Moffitt asked him.

"Who else?" Troy said. "We know Jerry has been infiltrating agents. Who else would know about Bir-el-Alam and the Rat Patrol? Who else would talk like that? Why would the Navy want to shanghai Hitch and Tully? Jerry figured he'd squeeze as much information as he could and, then get rid of them."

"You think Jerry suspects our new caper?" Moffitt asked quietly.

"Let's just say that Jerry observed Wilson's arrival, and knowing the Rat Patrol was here, expressed interest," Troy said.

"We'd better move on, I'd say," Moffitt said.

"And fast," Troy agreed. "Keep your eyes open. We've got more than the MPs to slip away from."

"Colonel Wilson here, Sarge?" Tully said, disbelieving. "Where we going? What's up?"

"It's better you don't know until we're on the way," Troy said grimly. "You've got your legs back. Now let's run." Moffitt vaulted over the next wall, running toward the boulevard, and Hitch and Tully followed. Troy looked back toward the roof of the Sidi Bar. One figure emerged from the stairway, followed by two more. It was too dark to tell whether the shadow outlines were MPs or the sailors who, Troy was convinced, were German agents, and there wasn't time to waste on either. He jumped the wall and ran in a crouch, overtaking the other three.

"That Arab let someone else up on the roof," he called in a hoarse whisper. "Make tracks."

They sprinted toward the wall of the next building. Behind, Troy could hear the sound of running feet. Tully stumbled, fell to his knees. Troy jerked him to his feet and held his arm again. Two roofs ahead was the boulevard and Troy knew the four of them were silhouetted. He zigzagged with Tully, expecting every moment to hear a shot. They reached the last building without being fired at and Troy looked over the wall to the street. A crowd had gathered at the entrance to the Sidi's alley and no one was on the walk below.

"Up and over," he called, rolling across the top of the wall, holding the edge with his hands and dropping twelve feet. He landed on the balls of his feet with his knees bent, but the fall still jarred him. Hitch spun when he fell but came up standing. Moffitt landed lightly, but Tully started to pitch forward on his face. Troy caught him before he sprawled, and they set out at a trot down the boulevard, dancing back over his shoulder. The three sailors were hesitating on the rooftop. Troy looked at his watch. It was oh-one-forty-five. He searched as they ran for a parked jeep that they could commandeer.

At the next intersection, a GI six-by-six canvas-covered personnel carrier from the direction of the wharves had stopped before turning. The driver was lighting a cigarette. Troy ran ahead and slapped Moffitt on the shoulder.

"Convince him, Jack," he said. "If you can't, dump him and take over. We'll hop into the back in case there's anyone there who wants to argue."

Moffitt smiled quickly and ran ahead. He was swinging into the front seat as Troy with Hitch and Tully pulled themselves over the tailgate and under the canvas. The benches were empty and Troy started up to the window as the truck lurched ahead. He stumbled over something on the floor, almost falling, and bent to push it aside. It was a five-gallon GI can and he swore at the driver for his carelessness. There were racks provided for water and gasoline cans. He sent it sliding toward the opposite bench and Tully grabbed it.

"I need a drink of water," he croaked. "My throat is burning up."

Troy put his face to the window. The driver was sitting straight and gripping the steering wheel with both hands, but he'd turned away from the commercial district and was heading in the right direction. Beside him, Moffitt was relaxed and lighting a cigarette. Troy started back to the bench. The GI can banged to the floor.

"It's gasoline," Tully wailed.

Troy grinned and looked at his watch: oh-one-fifty. They might not make it for the briefing but they'd be at the field in time for the takeoff. He sat on the bench beside Hitch, pushing aside a handful of rags and glancing back at the fast disappearing lights of the city. At this hour there was little traffic and the truck was humming along faster; at Moffitt's urging, Troy was certain. Now they were in the warehouse area and enclosed by darkness. Only an occasional truck driving in the direction of the city went by, briefly sprinkling the road with meager light.

Stretching his legs, Troy leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He tried to relax but his mind was tight. The mission to the Great Sand Sea and the long journey back through enemy territory puzzled him. The odds were all against any of them surviving and Wilson must realize it. Now the agents disguised as sailors would report they'd seen the Rat Patrol and the Rat Patrol had disappeared. Jerry had ways of finding out where people went. The enemy would be alerted and the Rat Patrol would be a long, long way from home.

Despite himself, he must have dozed because he was only foggily aware of what Hitch was saying. Hitch shook his shoulder again.

"I said, I think there's someone following us, Sarge," Hitch repeated.

Troy dived forward to the tailgate. Peeking at him from the darkness were the slitted eyes of blackout lights. It was difficult to judge the distance but he thought they were no more than twenty-five feet behind.

"They've been creeping up on us," Hitch said. "I didn't want to wake you until I was sure."

"We can't tell who it is and we don't have any weapons," Troy said and turned toward Tully.

"You want my Bowie knife?" Tully drawled.

"Yes," Troy snapped. "There are some rags on the bench where I was sitting. Take the cap off that GI can of gas and stuff them in it."

"A giant Molotov," Tully said happily.

Troy took Tully's knife and went to the window of the cab. He rapped on it and when Moffitt turned, shouted: "Move to the sides. I'm going to break the glass."

Moffitt nodded and pushed the driver over. Troy hammered the glass with the heavy shaft and when the window shattered, called: "I need a flashlight."

The driver leaned and reached to the floor beside the steering column. He handed a flashlight to Moffitt who gave it to Troy.

"When I sing out, slow down for two seconds, then give it the gun," Troy told Moffitt. "Everything it's got." 

"Right-o," Moffitt said.

Tully had the gas can ready.

"All right," Troy said. "Come back with me to the tailgate. When we slow down, I'm going to shine the light in the driver's eyes. Have the rags lighted and the can on the floor. If it's the three sailors in that jeep, heave the can through their windshield. If it's MPs or anyone else, get rid of it fast off the side of the road."