Modesty Blaise - Cobra Trap Part 20

Dinah said, "What does Modesty think? I know people don't get to talking about this kind of thing much, but surely the subject must have come up between you two."

Willie reflected for a few moments. Then he said, "Not in a big way, just the odd comment in pa.s.sing. We've talked about old Sivaji quite a bit, and one thing he did speak of was what he called the interim. The time between incarnations. Modesty once said if he was right about all that, then she hoped there'd be something worth doing in the interim. She didn't fancy listening to cherubim and seraphim singing their 'earts out till the next incarnation came round."

Collier chuckled. "That wouldn't suit either of you. But what about the absence of Time in which to do anything?"

"Oh, she reckons if we do go on there'll be a subst.i.tute for Time. And for bodies."

Collier looked out of the window at the scrawny jungle set back no more than forty paces from the track. "Some of these neardeath experiences you read about are fascinating," he said. "Being drawn along a tunnel towards a bright light seems to feature in several accounts. Of course, the doubters say that's just a final flicker of the brain closing down, but who knows? As you said, it's anyone's guess."

Willie said absently, "It could be a bit individual. I didn't see any tunnel-" he broke off. "Sorry. Just thinking out loud."

Dinah said, "I'm not having that." She got up and moved to sit beside Willie, feeling for his hand. "Hey, did you have one of these neardeath things?"

"It's boring, Dinah. Like when people tell you their dreams." 'You tell us about it right now, Buster, or I'll beat you up something rotten."

Willie sighed. "I bet you were the school bully." Collier said, "You didn't find yourself walking through a drift of clouds, with checkin desks manned by angels in doublebreasted suits and ties?"

Willie grinned. "Like in a Hollywood movie? No, I didn't get that far."

Dinah said, "I'm not letting go on this. Please, Willie, tell us."

"Well... it was back in The Network days. A vice mob under a sc.u.mbag called Karnak started some terror killings so he could take over a lot of girls working independently. Modesty decided we'd take 'im out, and we did. It was an easy job compared with some, but I got unlucky and took a ricochet that opened an artery in me thigh - the only shot fired in the whole operation. They got me to our own Network 'ospital in Tangier with not much blood left, and that was only because Modesty got to me in the first ten seconds and rammed 'er thumbs in the wound till Krolli could get a tourniquet onare you all right, Dinah?"

She said softly, "Yes, I'm fine, Willie. I guess I jumped a little because... well, it suddenly hit me, the way we've all been sort of interwoven even before we knew one another. I mean, if Modesty hadn't been quick enough getting to your artery that day, then you wouldn't have been around to save me from Gabriel in the Pearl Islands years later, and I'd never have met Modesty, my best ever girlfriend, or Steve, or... oh golly, you never realise what a knifeedge you're walking. A minute late or a minute early and something could change your whole life."

Collier said, "There's always the theory of parallel worlds. You know, alternative universes where it all happened differently. One where the alternative Modesty was a bit slow with her thumbs, and-"

"Just cut the fantasy stuff and be glad you're in this world, Professor," his wife broke in firmly. "And don't interrupt when I'm listening to Willie."

Collier sat up straight, "I didn't interrupt!" he said indignantly. "It was you coming in with all that 'if this and if that' rubbis.h.!.+ But I won't complain. It's my own fault for marrying beneath me. Go on, Willie lad. You have my full attention."

Dinah said, "Yes, go on, Willie. I'll deal with old Collier later. You'd lost a lot of blood and you were in The Network hospital."

"I don't remember anything much of what 'appened after Modesty grabbed me leg," said Willie. "Danny Chava.s.se told me later that she sat by my bed for three days after they'd pumped a new load of blood into me. All I remember is being... somewhere else, like in a dream, but much stronger, and different. Different in new ways you could never imagine. I was walking down a slope of gra.s.s, except it wasn't like any gra.s.s I've ever known, and at the bottom of the slope, in the valley, there was-"

Willie paused, giving Collier a look of wry exasperation. "I could say a sort of silvery path, or maybe a river, running off... somewhere. But it wasn't either. It was different. Look, people who use hallucinogenic drugs say they see colours and hear sounds that don't exist in the real world. Well, everything was like that, yet it was all perfectly natural and right in its own way. I said I was walking down a slope, but it wasn't a slope and I wasn't walking. It was all new and different. I can't even visualise it now, and even if I could there aren't words for it. But I was still me, and more... more fully aware of meself than I've ever been, before or since."

Collier said, "Were you aware of any other presence?"

Willie shook his head. "No. I was alone."

Dinah said, "It seems to have left memorytraces but no visual recall."

"That's about it."

She closed her blind eyes. "Or aural recall?"

It was a long time before he answered. During that time Collier could see and Dinah could sense that he was struggling for expression. At last he said reluctantly in a low voice, "You can 'ear the songs the stars sing."

After another silence Collier said gently, "Can you expand on that a bit, Willie?"

He shrugged. "No. It doesn't make sense to me either, now, but it's the nearest I can get in words. You can't really tell any of it in words."

"So there's no way of knowing whether it was a neardeath hallucination or... whatever?"

"There never will be. It'll always be anyone's guess."

Dinah said, "It doesn't seem like a dying brainflicker to me, Steve. I mean, he didn't die, did he?"

"No, which is just as well for us. Willie, this silvery path or river you sawdid you feel that it led somewhere?"

Willie exhaled gustily. "It's 'ard to give straight answers. I think I just felt it led to whatever comes next."

Dinah said, "But you came back. How did that happen?"

"I've no idea, love. All I can remember is waking up very slowly, 'earing Modesty's voice, very soft and gentle, saying nice things like 'ow much she needed me and so on. Then I could feel 'er hand 'olding mine, and a bit later I realised where I was and managed to open my eyes." Willie patted Dinah's hand. "Well, that was it. I never told anyone till now, except Modesty."

Collier said quietly, "Well thanks, Willie. I'm not going to make one of my usual insulting comments."

Dinah said, "You'd better not, or you'll get a knuckle sandwich from the little woman. Hey, listen, Willie, if it turns out that we all come back, you'll keep an eye open for us, won't you?"

Willie considered. Then, "All right. As long as you come back as a girl."

Collier laughed and was about to speak when the train jerked to a sudden halt, almost throwing Dinah to the floor. Willie caught and steadied her. Collier said, "You haven't lost much speed, Willie. Thanks. I'd have said somebody pulled the communication cord, except we don't have one."

With a hand on Willie's chest, Dinah felt a shape she recognised from long ago under the light leather windcheater he wore.

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and said nothing. Willie stood up, and she heard him open the door. "Hang on," he said. "I'll go and see what's 'appening."

Moments later he was moving along beside the track towards the locomotive, which was only partly in sight on a bend. Some of the soldiers were milling around excitedly. One or two men from the government contingent were with them, others were descending, some busy preventing older children getting off the train. Then Willie saw the track a few yards ahead of the locomotive and his heart sank, for both rails were buckled. It could only have been done by explosives, and well before the train's arrival here, for there had been no sound as it approached.

Willie was still fifty paces from the small crowd when he stopped abruptly and moved across the strip of bare ground between the track and the jungle. Five seconds later he had disappeared. In the compartment Collier stood looking out of the window. Dinah said, "What's happening, Steve?"

Collier shook his head. "G.o.d knows. The track curves just here, and I was watching Willie, but he suddenly oozed off into the jungle."

"Maybe-"

"No, I'm d.a.m.n sure he wasn't going for a leak. There was something about the way he moved. Something familiar, but I can't recall why."

Dinah came to his side. "He knows something the rest haven't realised," she said. "That's what it is."

"What the h.e.l.l can he know-" Collier broke off and put his arm round her. "Sorry, sweetheart. You're right, of course. I've seen him and Modesty in action enough to recognise the aspect they take on. That's what was familiar."

Dinah said, "He's wearing his knives. I felt them."

"I never doubted he would be, my darling. He sees us as his responsibility. You in particular. But what the devil can he be up to?" Collier's voice sharpened suddenly. "Oh Christ, of course! Somebody's blocked the line, and they must be here to have done it! So now they're tucked away in the bush, ready to open fire when they get the right target - the President and half the government most likely. Willie saw it right away."

"Oh my G.o.d, the children!" said Dinah. "Run and tell somebody, Steve tell them to keep under cover!"

Collier swore, opened the door, and dropped clumsily to the ground, almost falling. Then he began to run.

Willie Garvin moved warily through the trees and tangled bushes, moving in a halfcircle that would bring him towards the railway at a point where the cover was thickest, the best position for an ambush. He thought the Cobra team would be small, no more than an advance party of a few men, otherwise they would have attacked by now. Very sensibly they wanted to minimise risk and make their first strike conclusivea ma.s.sive killing.

It was a long time since he had worn his knives except for practice, but he had brought them to Montelero in the knowledge that trouble threatened, and was thankful that he had done so. The leather jacket was unzipped. He carried a knife in one hand, held by the blade, the other was still in one of the twin sheaths strapped in echelon on his left breast. In his free hand he carried a rock he had picked up, the size of a cricket ball.

The ambush was where he had antic.i.p.ated, three men with a Browning machinegun mounted on a tripod, hidden from the railway by a carefully constructed hide of leafy branches. One man sat at the gun ready to fire. A second knelt beside him with several spare ammunition boxes, each with its 250round disintegrating link belt. The third man was a few paces nearer to Willie, his back to the machinegun, peering into the jungle. He held a submachine gun at the ready, aimed from the hip, and Willie knew that when he left the train he must have been seen and was expected.

He said under his breath, "Send me good vibes, Princess," and stepped out from behind the tree that hid him. The rock hurtled fast from his hand as the muzzle of the gun swung towards him, finding its mark before the trigger could be pulled, striking squarely on the centre of the forehead. The man went down without a sound, but as he fell the Browning began to chatter.

Willie swore viciously and a knife flew, the second knife following as the first struck home. The chatter of the machinegun stopped abruptly. About one and a half seconds, Willie thought as he moved forward, and with a rate of 500 rpm that would mean only about twelve rounds fired, and probably well bunched. It could have been worse.

With sudden realisation he flung himself flat, diving behind a shallow ridge in the ground, barely in time to escape the fusillade of shots that came from the railway, ripping through the jungle fringe, tearing away leaves and twigs. The soldiers were firing blind with their Sten guns.

Beside the train, Collier raced towards the scene, bawling like a madman. "Stop, you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds! Stop!" One soldier and one government man lay on the ground, either dead or wounded. Collier swerved round them, still shouting, switching to Spanish and waving his arms frantically in an obvious ceasefire sign. The shooting dwindled and died, more because magazines were empty than from Collier's action, but it gave him the chance to get in front of the small bewildered group, still shouting and waving at them.

No shots came from the jungle, and the soldiers looked uncertainly about them for guidance. Collier turned and bellowed, "Willie! Are you okay?"

A voice came clearly from the jungle fringe. "Only b.l.o.o.d.y just! Tell them I've got two dead rebels 'ere, plus one possibly live rebel and a machinegun! And I'm not even going to stand up till all those Stens 'ave got the safetycatches on! Tell 'em, Steve!"

Collier heaved a sigh of relief, wiped sweat from his brow, and turned to speak to the soldiers.

In the Security Office at the Panama City airport John Dall sat holding a mug of coffee, watching Miguel Sagasta and Modesty Blaise as they studied a map spread on the table. Modesty wore a camouflage jacket and trousers. She had slept for most of the time during the flight from Heathrow. Dall had been unable to sleep, and was tired now. They had arrived only minutes ago to receive news that he felt she had reacted to oddly. At first she had seemed anxious, but this had quickly pa.s.sed to be replaced by a sparkling eagerness, as if the challenge had brought her a surge of exhilaration.

"Your friends and all on the train with them are trapped," Sagasta was saying. "The track is destroyed, the telephone line also." He looked at Modesty curiously. "When you called from England, why did you ask if I could have listening watch kept on those lines at the border exchange?"

She shook her head with a touch of impatience. "I don't know, Miguel. It just seemed right." She pushed back a wisp of hair from her brow. "The lines on this side of the break are probably sound, so they offer a possible avenue of communication. I must have felt it might be useful."

Sagasta smiled. "You have a great instinct, my dear, and now logic has caught up with it. Willie Garvin seems to be on the same wavelength, for when he left the capital he took one of the office phones with him. This is now connected to the lines on this side of the break and a hundred metres or so from the train," he laid a finger on the map, "about here, not far from the 125-kilometre post. That is how we know the location." He looked up. "So I have spoken directly to Willie. The border exchange patched him through to this office. Do you wish to speak with him, Modesty? It will take a few minutes. He has returned to the train but left a man by the phone who will call him if need be."

She hesitated, then, "If he's taken charge there, he could have his hands full. First let's hear what he told you."

"Very well. A party of three rebels blew up the line and lay in ambush, ready to attack with a machinegun when the people descended from the train. Willie forestalled this. One of the three was left alive and made prisoner. While Willie was away connecting the telephone, the man was questioned by the Montelero escort of soldiers. Questioned intensively, I fear, for he did not survive. It was revealed that a rebel force some two hundred strong is approaching from the west, and that he and his late comrades were sent on a day ahead of that force to halt the train and kill the refugees."

Modesty said, "All of them?"

"So he admitted, shortly before he died. Every soul on the train was to be destroyed, leaving no witnesses. That task will now fall to the main body when it arrives, which can be no more than a matter of hours now."

When Modesty looked up from the map Dall saw that her eyes were blank, her face without expression. "Will they do that, Miguel?" she said.

"Without question, my dear. A government in exile is the one threat to their hopes of many years in unchallenged power." Sagasta leaned forward to run a finger across a small section of the map. "The Cobra force is moving from the west along this road, south of these two parallel ridges. There is a narrow pa.s.s through the first ridge, here. They can then continue along a track that runs up over the second ridge and down to the railway line."

She said, "How strong is the Montelero escort and what firepower do they have?"

Sagasta looked up, grimfaced. The escort has decamped. They disappeared into the bush with their weapons, heading away from the rebel approach. In due course they will either declare themselves for the rebel cause, or attempt illegal immigration over our border."

Modesty looked at the scale of the map. "That's about seventy miles to the nearest point, going across country. Even Willie can't get a whole mob of men, women and children to the border through that jungle terrain."

Sagasta said, "But there is perhaps something he can do. He wants to take up two sound rails from behind the train and use them to replace the buckled rails in front of the train. Once it is moving again, the rebel force cannot overtake it."

Dall said softly, "The old b.a.s.t.a.r.d hasn't lost his touch, Modesty."

But she was watching Sagasta. "You don't look happy, Miguel. What's the snag?"

"I'm sorry. He needs a tool to effect the change. He needs a fishplate spanner, a spanner a metre long. Without it he cannot unbolt the rails and replace them."

Dall said, "Oh, Jesus. Can you get one to him?"

Modesty made an impatient gesture. "Not just one, Johnny."

Sagasta smiled at her. "Of course not. Two would halve the time. I have managed to secure three at short notice, and they are with the aeroplane 1 have hired for you. It is for you to get them to him, Modesty. I am already beyond the limits of my authority."

She touched his arm. "I know that, and I'm grateful. I'll file a flight plan for Santiago, so whatever happens it can't be laid at your door. Will that do?"

Sagasta spread his hands. "Perfectly. Now, do you wish to speak with Willie or will you leave at once?"

She had already made that decision. "I'll go now. He'll be doing everything I might suggest, and I mustn't waste any time. Just pa.s.s the message that I'm on my way, please Miguel."

Dall got to his feet as she moved towards him. He said, "No good asking to come with you?"

"Oh, Johnny. You know that's out of the question." She took his face between her hands, studying him. "You're tired. Now give me a kiss, then go and rest. And thank you for everything."

Dall kissed her, holding her close for a moment. "Come back safe," he said. "You hear?"

She laughed softly. "I've never been able to promise that, have I? But don't fret, Johnny, I'll be okay."

He let her go and she moved to the door Sagasta was holding open for her. There she paused, rested a hand briefly on Sagasta's shoulder, looked at Dall for a moment, smiled, flickered an eyelid at him and was gone.

Willie Garvin sat in a corner of the compartment, his eyes closed. He was alone. Collier and Dinah had climbed the ladder to the coach roof above him. With her highly acute hearing, Dinah would be the first to pick up the sound of Modesty's aircraft as it approached.

A few of the government men had set off along the track on foot with their wives and children. Willie had not tried to dissuade them. They could not hope to make the journey before being overtaken by the rebel soldiers, but once the track was repaired the train would soon catch up with the walkers and take them aboard, for all the difficult gradients were behind, and the driver had said that the rest of the run to the border was over flat ground which would allow reasonable speed.

For Willie it had been a busy morning. He had spent the last halfhour using yoga techniques to restore his mental and physical energy. Now he reflected quietly on what he had done, and decided there was nothing more until Modesty arrived. It would be impossible for her to land here, but that simply meant the aircraft would be a writeoff. No doubt it was fully insured.

She was on her way, Sagasta had told him, with fishplate spanners, weaponry, field gla.s.ses, twoway radios, and whatever other items she had decided might be of use.

Willie sat relaxed, slowly distancing himself from the present and from all about him, letting his mind drift back to when he had last seen her. That was at her cottage in Benildon, ten days ago, shortly before the fighting broke out in Montelero. He had been lying in a lounger on the terrace in the warm July suns.h.i.+ne, idly a.s.sessing the pros and cons of getting up and fetching himself a cold beer from the kitchen.

It was a finely balanced decision. On the one hand Modesty always kept an ample supply of his favourite beer at the cottage, and it would be bliss to feel the ambrosial liquid swilling around his tastebuds before it made the happy descent down his throat. On the other hand, as lawyers so often said, one had to consider adverse factors. The lounger was very comfortable, and the fridge in the kitchen was a good thirty paces from the terrace where he reclined.

"And," Willie reminded himself solemnly, "you're not as young as you were, Willieboy." He grinned to himself at the thought, and was about to get up when two bare arms slid down over his shoulders to rest across his chest, and a soft cheek was laid against his.

Surprise touched him gently, for this and other small gestures of affection she had been showing lately were something new- not that her affection for him had ever been in doubt, but through all the long years it had been tacit and rarely displayed. He found the change very pleasant even as he wondered at it.

Opening one eye he saw that a tankard of beer now stood on the little table beside his chair. Modesty Blaise said in his ear, "I have this amazing telepathic power." She straightened up, ruffled his hair, and moved to sit on the swingseat to his left. Her feet were bare, and the long slender legs rose to faded denim shorts topped by a sleeveless silk blouse. The legs, Willie decided, were as good as ever, a joy to contemplate.