Free The Assignment by Per Wahlöö Page B

aren’t you working?”
    “We haven’t done any work for a month.”
    “Why not?”
    “The police wouldn’t let us. We had already lost eight men then, and the risks were thought to be too great.”
    “But the reform committee depends on your results, doesn’t it?”
    “I suppose so, but we’ve heard nothing from them. In fact, we’ve heard nothing from anyone for a month. But money is sent to us, so someone knows we’re here. We just sit and drink away our pay. What else can we do?”
    “How much of the work is completed?”
    “About five per cent, perhaps. Probably not even that much.”
    “Have you enough men to complete the job?”
    “Not within a reasonable time. I’ve always thought of this group as a token force.”
    “What happened to the eight men who are no longer here?”
    “Four were shot by the farmers when they demanded access to their land, one was murdered by the natives—we know that because they wanted his clothes and boots—and three just vanished.”
    Manuel Ortega went back to the Governor’s Palace. Despite the sunglasses, the glittering white heat was blinding and intolerable. As he crossed the square his head was buzzing and the sun burned his skin right through his clothes. It was like walking through liquid fire.
    Before he opened the door to his office he put his hand on the butt of his revolver as usual.
    He went up to the woman and said:
    “Call Captain Behounek.”
    He was put through in two minutes.
    “Behounek speaking. What’s the trouble?”
    “Why can’t the surveyors get on with their work?”
    “Risk’s too great. And I’ve had orders from above too.”
    “From whom?”
    “The highest. Ministry of the Interior.”
    “That order came a month ago, during the crisis. They’ve probably forgotten to countermand it.”
    “Don’t ask me.”
    “Another thing. Why is there practically no one in the streets?”
    “You’ve forgotten something. A state of emergency has been declared.”
    “And what does that involve?”
    “Among other things, the natives are not allowed past the police barriers into the center of town.”
    “But that’s absurd. They’re citizens of the town too, aren’t they?”
    “The whites aren’t allowed into the native quarter either. It’s been done to protect both sides.”
    “But what if these natives, as you call them, want to buy something, what if they want food and so on?”
    “They’ve got their own shops. What could they possibly want to buy anyway?”
    “Who declared the state of emergency?”
    “General Gami.”
    “Who has the right to end it?”
    “General Gami.”
    “And the Minister of the Interior.”
    “Yes. I guess he can order the Military Governor to end it.”
    “Where is General Gami?”
    “Away on active service.”
    “For how long?”
    “For at least another week. I told you that before.”
    “How would you say the situation in the province was at the moment?”
    “Definitely good.”
    “I’ll get in touch with the Minister of the Interior.”
    “Good luck.”
    Manuel Ortega sat immobile for a long while. Then he picked up the telephone receiver and heard Danica Rodríguez answer.
    “Get me the Minister of the Interior, Zaforteza.”
    Ten minutes later, she told him: “Can’t get through to the federal capital. The line is down. But we can cable.”
    He pondered for half an hour what he should say in his cable and even then he was not satisfied with it. It ran: “Situation satisfactory. Order military commander end emergency. Arrange report on reform committee’s results. Order survey to be continued. Ortega.”
    Danica Rodríguez sent the cable. The telephone exchange promised that it would arrive within an hour.
    Manuel Ortega waited the whole afternoon for an answer. By five o’clock he had still heard nothing. The telephone exchange informed him that telephone communications were still broken off.
    At half past five he tried to get hold of Behounek. He was told that the Chief of