Mercenary Part 21

The two men left the cabin and walked into the night towards the main camp, its fires burning in the distance.

'That was clever,' Ventura said. 'I hope Hector is intelligent enough to see it.

'Was it? It is an issue, though. How to get rid of a legend without the legend biting you in the a.s.s at the same time.'

'Have the legend die at the hands of someone he trusts - or make it look like that, at least.'

Steel drew on his cigar. 'You mean Julio?'

'No. He's unreliable. What if Sebastian was killed by outsiders?' Ventura suggested.

'What would their purpose be?'

'What's yours?'

Steel smiled, glancing at Ventura. 'You mean, if the Americans were to be accused?'

'Why not? You have to pay a price at some time. Playing one side off against the other has not produced the results you wanted. You have big shoulders.'

Steel contemplated the idea. 'I would have to cover my own a.s.s. I don't mind Uncle Sam getting the blame but I don't want to make it look personal.'

'Of course. What about the Englishman?'

Steel nodded. 'That's a possibility . . . You're a natural at this, Ventura. I'm going to have to watch you.'

Ventura was pleased by the flattery. 'How would we go about it?'

'It wouldn't be difficult. We don't have to alter our plans any.'

'There is one other issue,' Ventura said, looking a little uncomfortable.

'What's that?'

'The Nerugan gold mines. I saw the licensing proposal. How much of that syndicate do you control?'

Steel came to a stop and faced the government official. 'Are you ready to take the pebble?' he asked, holding out his hand, a threatening look in his eye.

Ventura looked into the open palm that had nothing in it. 'It wasn't a challenge,' he said, aware how dangerous Steel could be.

Steel closed his hand on the invisible stone. 'Good. Your battalion is on the highway, right?'

'Yes.'

'It's ready to move in on your command?'

'Yes.'

'This is now all about neutralising Sebastian's brigade and there's only one way you're gonna do it. You have to move between Hector's and Sebastian's encampments. Hector won't touch your back. He's got too much to lose. If he countered your attack it would only push him further from his dream of becoming a revolutionary leader. I'll make sure he knows that.'

Ventura nodded in agreement. 'We could begin to move into position during daylight tomorrow. Preparations could be complete by nightfall. We could attack the following morning.'

'Sounds perfect to me, my friend. It'll be over in a couple hours. Especiallly with those helicopters we gave you.'

'So what's the final story concerning Sebastian?' Ventura asked. 'How will the people eventually see it?'

'They'll see what they're given. The revolutionary council brokered a deal with the government but Sebastian stood in its way. Sebastian's outfit became a rogue terrorist organisation that murdered the head of the government's beloved brother.The revolutionary council tried to get rid of Sebastian but failed and found they were unable to deal with the situation themselves. So they paid a mercenary, who happened to be training Sebastian's troops at the time, to kill him. Meanwhile, government troops arrived to arrest Sebastian for the murder of Chemora. A skirmish broke out. People were killed. The mercenary was never seen or heard from again. But everything turned out fine in the end. The revolutionaries, under their new leader Hector, brokered a deal with Neravista and everyone lived happily ever after. It'll get a short column on page five of the New York Post New York Post.'

Ventura smiled thinly at the story. 'It will work. And you will be rewarded for your efforts . . . by your own people?'

'I get a reputation among people who respect that kind of thing.'

'Then there's the gold mine,' Ventura said, his words this time accompanied by a friendly smirk.

Steel glanced at him long enough to see there was no intended malice. 'You still ain't ready to take that pebble, Ventura.'

'But I'm getting closer, no?'

Both men laughed as they walked into the night.

In the darkness Victor trotted along the track, with the niggling feeling that someone was following him. He slowed to a stop to look back and listen, but he could hear nothing. It was so dark that he could not see far beyond his horse's nose. The glow from the fires of Hector's encampment had already disappeared.

He trotted on, not looking forward to the ride or to getting back to the camp. Terrible suspicions about Hector haunted him. He felt something very bad was going to happen. But no one would listen to him, anyway.

Victor felt suddenly alone, and not just physically. He wondered if it was time to move on himself. The rebellion no longer felt like the one he had joined. Deep down he was not entirely against Hector's efforts to broker a peace deal. Victor hated violence and the prospect of more to come while Sebastian remained entrenched appalled him. He knew his thoughts were disloyal and that his reasons for wanting peace now were selfish. But it was how he felt and he could not ignore it.

An unfamiliar sound snapped him out of his thoughts.

He slowed down again, turned and listened. He couldn't see anything, yet the distant sound remained. He stopped altogether.

It was a rumbling sound and growing louder, like hooves rapidly striking the ground. That was it. Riders!

Victor's first thought was to step back into the undergrowth and let whoever it was pa.s.s. But that would have been too risky right now. He might not have had good enough reasons for his paranoia before he'd arrived at Hector's camp but he felt entirely justified by the time he had left it. If he was right and Hector had been prepared to kill Sebastian then the man would have no qualms about doing the same to him. Victor was suddenly filled with fear.

The pounding of hooves grew louder and Victor dug his heels into his horse's flanks so hard that the animal shot forward at a gallop. He lost his hat and raced along the track.

Panic gripped him. He felt a desperate need to escape. But he could barely see ahead - the cloud-covered sky and the trees lining the track made the blackness complete. A branch whacked him across the face, a stinging blow that drew blood. He crouched low against the horse's neck and spurred the animal on.

The sound of pursuit became fainter but it had only become lost in the noise of the thudding hooves of his own mount. Victor wanted to look back but did not dare allow his stare to stray from the way ahead. His horse swerved suddenly to take a bend in the track but it had come upon it too suddenly and its flank struck a branch. Victor felt a solid blow against his leg that must have hurt the horse too but the animal did not flinch and powered on.

They galloped into another tight turn and this time Victor almost lost his balance. As he sat up in the saddle a low branch came out of nowhere and slammed him in the shoulder. He stopped dead while his horse continued on. He somersaulted backwards and struck the ground brutally hard, rolling over several times before coming to a halt in the centre of the track.

The blow and the fall stunned Victor and he lay in the dirt, trying to regain his senses. He rolled onto his front and pulled his knees beneath him, feeling a searing pain in his chest. He realised that the sound of beating hooves came from his pursuers.They would soon reach the bend.

Victor rolled as fast as he could to the edge of the track and got there just as the beasts thrashed past him. He pushed himself up onto his knees where he balanced unsteadily. He had to get going - but which way? if he remained on the trail there was a chance of running into the riders again. He could not be absolutely certain that they had been pursuing him but he was not about to wait around and ask them. His only option was to make his way into the bush and somehow shadow the track until he could be certain where he was. He needed to cross a valley to the adjacent plateau on top of which was his own encampment. But at night, in this jungle, that was going to be easier said than done.

He got to his feet, put his back to the track and felt his way forward, immediately hitting an impenetrable thicket. He tried to explore a way around it but the sound of hooves froze him. The hors.e.m.e.n were returning, this time at the trot.

Victor dropped to his belly and like a rodent scurried deeper into the bush, dragging himself in as far as he could.

As the sound of trotting horses grew louder he went motionless, feeling as defenceless as a tortoise on its back.

A lone horse slightly ahead of the others slowed to a walk and a flashlight beam played along the track and into the bushes. The light pa.s.sed over Victor but the rider continued on. Another horse followed a little way behind and stopped a few metres beyond him. A new beam came on and shone along the track. Victor practically stopped breathing.

This horse and its rider remained perfectly still as if listening. Victor was afraid they could hear his heart pounding in his chest.

The sound of more hooves announced other riders closing in. They came to a stop. 'I found his hat,' a man's voice said. 'He was wearing it when he left.'

Another pair of riders joined them. 'We saw his horse,' one of them said. 'There was no sign of him, though. He's ducked into the forest.'

The men fell silent. Victor stared at the feet of the horses that were almost within touching distance. Then: 'Victor!' a voice boomed. 'I know you can hear me. You're lying somewhere nearby in the dirt, scared to death and wondering if we will find you. You have every reason to be scared. If we find you we will slit your throat. I have a message for you from Hector. Don't go back to Sebastian's camp or you will die. If you value your life you'll leave this place, leave this country and never come back.That's not just a warning, Victor. That's a promise.'

The horses remained still for a moment before trotting away in the direction of Hector's encampment.

Victor lay where he was for a long time without moving, partly to ensure that the riders had gone and were not trying to trick him but mostly because he simply did not know what to do. The very question he had pondered earlier had been answered for him. His revolution had indeed come to an end.

All those years of fighting and sacrifice were suddenly history. Worse still, he was now an enemy of those he had once fought alongside. He had known it would end one day but not like this. Even his death, which he had contemplated on occasion, would now be meaningless and without glory. He would not see the end of the great struggle. For him, there would be no celebrations, no hugging of comrades, no emotional reunions.

He could, of course, ignore the threat. Sebastian might even give him protection if he ever forgave him for going to Hector's camp in the first place. But Victor did not think he could live with that threat hanging over him. The constant danger would be too much for him to bear.

An hour or more pa.s.sed before he eventually crawled out from under the bush and got to his feet. He stood in the middle of the track, bruised and filthy, and looked in the direction of Hector's camp. His chest hurt like h.e.l.l, particularly when he took a breath. His faced throbbed where the branch had struck him. But he was alive.

Where he was headed he had no idea. Home was the obvious choice. Back to France and his beautiful Pyrenees. Strangely, the idea did not fill him with joy as it had in the past. Enforced on him by the threat of death, his exit from the rebellion would be made under a shadow. No more the return of a valiant hero. It would be a private homecoming. His story, with its unflattering ending, would not be worth telling to anyone, not when he and any listener were sober, at least.

Victor turned his back on Hector's camp and walked on into the night.

As the first rays of light broke through the gaps in the straw roof, Louisa awoke in Stratton's arms. They had made love several times throughout the night, their l.u.s.t for each other heightened by the knowledge that he would soon leave.

Stratton was on the edge of sleep and his eyes opened as he felt Louisa sit up. He watched her stand and walk to the top of the stairs where she stopped to look back at him. She smiled, sadness in her eyes, and walked down the stairs, her rich black hair cascading down her back.

He sat up. He could hear her getting dressed and when her boots sounded across the floor he went to the balcony to watch her leave. She blew him a kiss before opening the door and then she was gone. It struck him that he might never see her again.

Stratton tried to think how it would be to stay. The obvious question was for how long. Even if the revolution ended that week, what would he do? Follow her around like a puppy, hoping she might have a spare moment for him once in a while? Her path was set, or at least she had a plan and was the type to pursue it vigorously. Her political involvement would require work and dedication and mixing with similarly committed people. Having a soldier in tow, a lover from the fighting days, would be trying to live her life in two different worlds. It wasn't practical. It had no future. If it was so obvious to him it would be the same for her. Last night had been as much about goodbye as it had been about anything else.

Stratton rooted around the kitchen looking for any food he could take with him. He found some bread, cheese, dried meat and an apple which he distributed around his pockets.

He shouldered his parachute and pack, picked up his rifle, took a last look around and left the cabin.

Stratton cut across towards the defensive position at the foot of the slope leading up to the stables. He paused to look at Sebastian's cabin, the urge to knock on the door and see Louisa nearly overpowering him. He reminded himself once again that it was pointless and took a couple of steps away. But he stopped again. The pressure to see her was too great. It was almost painful.What was the harm, he reasoned. All he wanted was to see her face, a chance to touch her one last time. It was as if a part of him were willing him away while another tried to push him towards her.

A man ran down the slope calling his name. It was David. 'Victor's horse has returned without him,' he said, out of breath and looking extremely concerned.

They hurried together up the incline to the stables where Bernard had unsaddled the animal and was inspecting it.

'He has cuts on his face and flanks,' Bernard said, kneeling to inspect its legs. 'This horse has been run pretty hard through jungle.'

'Anyone know where Victor was going?' Stratton said.

There was no answer.

'Where're the Indians?' he asked.

'Mohesiwa was here when the horse arrived,' Bernard said. 'He left as soon as he discovered the animal was Victor's.'

Stratton thought of his last conversation with Victor. The man wanted to effect some kind of change somewhere that would take him the night to get there and back to. 'How far's Hector's camp from here?' he asked.

'Three hours,' David replied. 'Why would he go there?'

'I didn't say he did.'

'That road is dangerous,' David said, wondering if Stratton knew more than he was prepared to say. 'There have been reports of Neravistas on that path.'

'I'd like to look in that direction,' Stratton said, not really knowing what he would be looking for other than an unhorsed Victor lying injured somewhere.

'The patrol to relieve the northern outpost leaves soon,' Bernard said. 'It follows part of the route to Hector's camp. Maybe the outpost knows something.'

'Let's do it,' Stratton said.

'Give me those,' David said, taking Stratton's pack and parachute. 'I'll leave them in the end stall for you.'

Stratton shouldered his rifle and magazine pouch and followed Bernard to the main entrance.

Half a dozen men equipped for their duty in the outpost were getting ready to leave the camp. The main entrance was busy with its usual traffic of burros bringing in food supplies, wood and water.

Bernard had a quick word with the patrol commander and came back to Stratton as the party headed out. 'We can go with them,' he reported as they followed the patrol through the entrance. 'They've not heard from the outpost this morning.'

'Is that unusual?' Stratton asked.

'No. The radios are old American HF sets and don't work very well.'

'How far is the outpost?'

'Less than an hour.'

Stratton looked back, thoughts of Louisa still lingering in his mind, hoping she might have heard about Victor's disappearance and come to see him. He could not see her in the crowd and within minutes the camp entrance was out of sight as they headed into the jungle.

The track was well travelled and easy underfoot, apart from a rocky section that was more of a climb than anything else. From the top Bernard pointed to a distant knoll, a kilometre or so away, where the outpost was located.

They trudged along, spread out in single file, Stratton near the rear with Bernard. As the head of the patrol approached a lone tree with the knoll beyond the lead man quickly signalled a halt, followed by another order to go to ground. Each man stepped off the track and dropped into a crouch, looking in every direction for signs of the enemy.