Nevertheless, he gave an order to the tribesmen.
Scowling, they slipped the rifles into their saddle sheaths.
“Pretty late at night, isn’t it, for a friendly visit?” Hank said evenly.
“Not if the mission is urgent,” Flambo said. “One of your aircraft has failed to return, has it not?”
The Americans stiffened, tense and eager, but fearing bad news.
“That’s right,” Hank said. “Do you know anything about it?”
“It crashed over a mountain valley, somewhere northeast of here.”
Flambo’s words drew gasps of dismay. He explained that he had received the news several hours before when he had stopped at a village. The message had been passed along by signals and couriers.
“You mean you got spies all over these tarnation mountains?” Chow blurted out suspiciously.
SURPRISE BLAST-OFF 167
Flambo smiled. “Let us say, sources of information. My company belongs here in the Middle East, you see,” he said pointedly. “We still hope to undertake one or two projects for the Kabulistan government.”
“Brand my coyote cookies, then your hombres musta been the ones who spied on Tom and Bud an’ me when we first camped here!” Chow said. “An’ shot off that signal flare, too!”
The black-bearded engineer showed his teeth in a flickering grin. “Would you not keep a sharp lookout if a rival rancher sent his herd to graze on your range?”
Chow’s shrewdly squinting eyes met Flambo’s. In spite of himself, the leathery old Texan could not repress a chuckle. “Reckon I take your meanin’, pardner!”
“Listen!” Hank broke in. “It’s Tom and Bud we’re worrying about right now.
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