No wonder Stefanik meant to fight to the last—he wasn't going to turn his kids over to an old goat like Glinka!
your peace with Allah! Did you suppose for one moment that I had forgotten what we were talking about?"
* * * * *
It was quite dark by the time they had reached the summit of the ridge, but Colonel Glinka still marched along behind Abdul, high good humor restored, prodding him from time to time with the Malacca cane and lecturing him upon social equalities and other Party doctrine.
"Are we nearly there?" he would interrupt himself to ask from time to time.
"I do not know."
"Call out, then."
"I am afraid."
A savage poke with the cane, a war whoop from Abdul Hakkim ben Salazar. No answer.
"We'll get him," Colonel Glinka would say. "Oh, my, yes."
But an hour had passed and still they had encountered no living thing upon the path.
At last Abdul stopped abruptly. They were in a little, narrow ravine, high above the sea, with looming red cliffs all about them, and the booming of the surf upon the distant, windward shore of the island plainly aud
If this story makes any sense to you - *any* sense whatsoever - you are a better person than I.
A Soviet operative comes to a remote Arabian island hunting down a missing scientist to return him to the motherland or make sure no other power can get its hands on him. But the scientist has continued with his researches, and things do not go well for the thug.
A fairly humorous take on an old H.G. Wells story.