Sahara Adventure Series

8. BLOOD IN FRONT OF THE SUN-2

“Good evening, messieurs,” he says in perfect French. “It has been a long time since I have had the honor of selling you something or enjoying a drink with you.”

messieurs “We belong to the poor brigade, Hoessein,” says Fritz Mundt, and it seems as if this disrespectful way of addressing the Arab causes a flicker of anger in the man’s eyes.

“Cannot be that bad,” Hoessein says easily. “I have acquired the finest silk, fresh dates, pocket knives, and tobacco products. I look forward to a visit from you.”

He stops talking because, at that moment, someone nearly knocks him over. It is Wodiak, a South-Slovak, and he is a man with a dark complexion and an ugly pock mark on his face. It looks as if he is so drunk that he can barely stand on his feet.

“I am sorry, your Royal Highness,” Wodiak chatters. “Would you like to have a drink with me?”

Hoessein gives the South-Slovak a crushing look but says nothing. He merely looks the man up and down as if trying to pierce him with his sharp eyes.

“Messieurs,” the Arab says mockingly. “I am afraid that some people in your ranks do not have perfect manners.”

Messieurs Wodiak ignores it. He reaches out his hand to pick up Teuns’ wine glass, but the South African grabs hold of his wrist and pulls his hand away.

“Wodiak,” Teuns hisses. “We are not in the mood for your company. You are drunk and bad-mannered. Go away…”

Wodiak stands and sways on his feet, his eyes glowing and narrow, with his head pushed a little to the front. There is raw hatred in his eyes. Suddenly he moves with remarkable speed, but he has scarcely taken the knife out of his trousers’ pocket before Podolski deals him a backhand blow. He curses, staggers backward, and falls onto a dilapidated table.

“What a nice stroke, Podolski,” Fritz cheers. “Pity you did not hit him on his pharynx. Then he would have been quiet for the whole night.”

“It seems as if the legionnaires are in a foul mood tonight,” Hoessein says with a small smile. “Au revoir, messieurs.” He says it pleasantly, salaams, and starts walking away. Then, all of a sudden, he stops and turns back to them. He talks in a half-whisper.

Au revoir messieurs. “By the way, I understand that Madame Brigitte Bonnet will be executed tomorrow morning?”

Madame “It is about time,” Fritz says, but he becomes aware that the other guys are looking at him sharply, making him slightly apprehensive.

“We cannot really say,” Teuns Stegmann says. “We have heard nothing about any execution.”

“The whole of Dini Salam is talking about it,” Hoessein answers.

“Then it must be so,” says Podolski, and this time his eyes burn into the Arab.

“Let us hope that it brings peace to the eastern Sahara,” Hoessein replies and walks away.

In the meantime, Wodiak has gotten up and wipes the blood away from his mouth with his hand. He stops the Arab. “Your Highness,” he says drunkenly. “I would like to discuss some business with you.”

With over-friendliness, Hoessein points towards a little table in the corner, and the two move over there.

“I do not trust that piece of rubbish at all,” Teuns reiterates.

“And, Wodiak has to be the biggest scoundrel in the Legion. It is truly an interesting combination,” Jack Ritchie says.

Teuns looks at Fritz secretly, as he has not spoken any further.

“You do realize you have just leaked a military secret to that yellow beak, big guy,” Teuns says.

Fritz tries to defend himself by saying. “You have heard him say that the whole of Dini Salam is aware of the news that Madame Bonnet will be executed in the morning. It is big news that the European leader of the Dulac Arabs will be shot to death. Not true? It is this type of news that leaks out very easily.”

Madame “However it may be, you have still spilled a military secret,” Teuns maintains.

“It is the truth,” Podolski concurs.

“Why do not you tell D’Arlan that he should also have me executed?” Fritz asks scornfully.

“Now the big man is afraid because he has been driven into a corner,” Jack Ritchie teases him.

They hear the bell ringing in the fort at Dini Salam, and they all suddenly become quiet. All of them work out how many hours Brigitte Bonnet still has left to live. Jack Ritchie is the first to speak, and he voices all of their opinions, even Fritz Mundt’s, although he had been so aggressive a while ago.

“I still maintain that it is wrong to shoot this woman,” the Englishman says.

“And I say it is wrong to shoot her here in Dini Salam,” Podolski adds. “It can only be the start of something ugly.”

Teuns cautiously glances at Abdul Hoessein and Wodiak, who are busy chatting in the corner. Wodiak leans forward drunkenly, his head nodding now and then, and in Hoessein’s eyes is a strange, inexplicable expression.

“Let us go,” Fritz says and rises. “You guys are just as uninteresting tonight as the colonel when sober.”

They get up, and Hoessein waves at them in a friendly manner. They notice that Wodiak is also rising, and then make for the door.

* * *

In the cell, Madame Bonnet is staring fixedly at the stars. They look so much brighter tonight against the dark blue sky. She knows this night will be her last to look at the stars. The only sound audible is the rhythmic stomping of the two guards’ boots, the two guards helping to guard her until her hour has arrived.

Madame Teuns Stegmann wakes up on his bed in the dormitory of the barracks, and he rises quickly. He sees the first delicate light of the new day is growing. He feels lazy and sleepy, as he did not get much sleep this night. Every time he fell asleep, the vision of this beautiful woman invaded his dreams. Every time he saw her in front of him. Her auburn hair shone like fire in the sun, and her eyes were huge and striking.

He was just planning to lie down again and get some sleep when he heard footsteps. The next moment, the door of the dormitory swings open. Standing at the door is Captain D’Arlan, a small, delicate, swarthy man dressed in full uniform. Next to him is Sergeant Catroux. He is short and grey-haired, and he is a man who has seen and experienced so many things in the desert already.

The next instant, orders shrilly ring out within the fort’s walls. The men are half asleep and quickly tumble out of their beds, but even before they can start to get dressed, Sergeant Catroux roars. “Attention!”

They fall in at the foot of their beds and come to attention.

“The following soldiers will be ready within ten minutes and in full uniform for an execution inside the fort,” Catroux says loudly. “Legionnaires Mundt, Stegmann, Petacci, Ritchie, Meerholz, Podolski and Renner.”

Teuns feels a warm shock vibrating through his body.

“Any questions?” Captain D’Arlan asks, and his words are short and bitten off, like always when there are moments of tension like this.

Teuns wants to speak, but what good will it do anybody? He is a soldier, and this duty must be fulfilled, but it disgusts him. D’Arlan must have seen it on his face because now he approaches Teuns slowly. D’Arlan is a man who knows a man’s true feelings. He stops right in front of the South African and looks at him sharply.

“Stegmann,” says D’Arlan. “You have more reason than anybody to be a part of this execution.”

He sees the dislike on the South African’s face and continues in a softer tone.

“Mon ami, she is the reason for a lot of bloodshed, and she had killed some of your comrades. Now is the time for punishment.” He adds, now more sharply and intensely. “Mon legionnaire, you are a soldier of France and not a ballet dancer.”

Mon amiMon legionnaire D’Arlan swings around smartly and walks away. Now the seven men are standing stiffly to attention in front of the dormitory. Every one of them is handed a rifle. They march stiffly behind Catroux, and he leads them to a wall, where they halt. In front of them, the pole has already been planted where Brigitte Bonnet will die.

Off to the side, a soldier stands with a drum, which he has to play softly when the order comes to aim. Teuns had seen a lot in this desert before, a lot of blood and death, but his legs are trembling underneath him. There is shivering inside of him, and he feels faint.

“Stand at ease!” Catroux orders the men.

He turns around and, accompanied by two guards, walks at short paces towards the cell far away in the corner of the barracks building.

Catroux stops before the cell and salutes the two guards standing stiffly to attention.

Teuns looks at the clock in the tower of the fort. It is three minutes before seven o’clock.

Catroux places the key into the cell’s door, unlocks it with a grinding sound, and walks inside.

“Madame Bonnet, the moment has arrived,” Catroux says.

Madame His voice sounds hollow in the cell. He stops dead in his tracks as if he had turned to stone.

Madame Brigitte Bonnet is not there anymore. The cell where she has been locked up is empty!

Madame