"One thing," Read said, "I don't think they'll shoot at us while he's in the car."
"Don't be certain, corporal. All these strong-arm movements are alike. I'll bet Umluana's lieutenants are hoping he'll become a dead legend. Then they can become live conquerors."
Sergeant Rashid came from Cairo. He had degrees in science and history from Cambridge but only the Corp gave him work that satisfied his conscience. He hated war. It was that simple.
Read looked back. He saw three spots of sunlight about two hundred feet up and a good mile behind.
"Here they come, Sarge."
Rashid turned his head. He waved frantically. The two men in the other car waved back.
"Shall I duck under the trees?" the driver asked.
"Not yet. Not until we have to."
Read fingered the machine gun he had picked up when he got in the car. He had never been shot at. Twice he had faced an unarmed mob, but a few shots had sent them running.
Birds flew screaming from their nests. Monkeys screeched and threw things at the noisy, speeding cars. A little cloud of birds surrounded each vehicle.