Casca 12: The African Mercenary Read Free Page B

at about the same moment they reach puberty. In Beidemann's case, however, it had taken forty years longer. Casey was amused at his friend's attempt at sophistication.
    "Carl, old friend, what is it that you want from these tired old bones that you should bring me all the way from Munich? It must be something of importance. Don't you realize Oktoberfest will be starting soon?"
    Casey grinned back. "Gustaf, you old Hun, I brought you here because I have found that in spite of all my past experiences with you, I once more need you with me. I have a nice contract, one which will enable you to open your own restaurant where you can eat and drink to the end of your days, and never have to tip the waiter to get a good table. Now be still and listen. This is the situation ..."
    As Casey explained, Van moved over to the bar to talk with the waitress, keeping her out of earshot of the two men's conversation. Casey and Beidemann huddled together, heads nearly touching as Casey went over the basics of the operation and the problems concerning completion of the license.
    As Beidemann was reading the reports given to Casey by van Janich, Casey couldn't help thinking about the monster sitting across from him. Beidemann was the last survivor of their original crew in Russia. They'd fought together in Indochina and Algeria while with the Second Parachute Battalion of the French Foreign Legion. There had been a couple of other small contracts since then. Casey had contacted him, and Beidemann hadn't turned down any of them. Van was not particularly fond of Beidemann, thinking him to be some kind of throwback to a more primitive form of mankind, one that should have disappeared with Peking Man.
    The only member of Casey's crew to accept Beidemann totally was Ksor Tonn, better known as George, a Montagnard from the central highlands of Vietnam who was now back at Casey's plantation in Malaya. He'd be coming to Singapore tomorrow. George thought Beidemann was perfectly normal, except for his being six feet-six and weighing as much as a pregnant water buffalo. Other than that, George accepted Beidemann as an equal.
    Beidemann had picked up Yousef while in Algeria twelve years earlier, and the little Moroccan had been with him ever since. Over the years, Beidemann had come to hold a strange kind of affection and respect for his uninvited shadow.
    If it had been anyone other than Casey Romain who had called him at this time, he probably wouldn't have come. He and Yousef were nearly set up with a contract to train the troops of one of the Persian Gulf emirates. The emir was a reasonable man who appreciated the finer things in life and wanted those in his service to do the same. Consequently, there would have been an abundance of lovely maidens and a constant flow of the best beer and vodka. It was with some reluctance that Beidemann had asked for a delay before entering the emir's service.
    Once Beideman had finished reading Van Janich's reports, Casey gave him a quick rundown on how he thought they might be able to fulfill the contract. After listening to Casey's ideas, Beidemann stopped him with a raised hand. "You want to parachute into the palace grounds of Matthew Dzhombe?" He let loose a long, worried sigh. "That, my friend, may present more difficulties than you realize. It is one thing to get on the grounds; it is another thing entirely to be able to get out again at least under your own power. Most of the black soldiers in that part of Africa aren't worth the price of the bullets it takes to kill them, but these Simbas of Dzhombe's are a different matter. I served with men of their tribe during the Katanga mess. Those men will run twenty miles to get in a fight, then will eat the livers of the still living bodies of any prisoners they take. It is not going to be easy. How many men will we have to do the job with?"
    Casey took a long pull at his stengah , swallowing a piece of ice that gave him a temporary burst of pain tight between the