Mercenary Part 5

'That's enough, Louisa,' Sebastian said curtly.

Hector might have been fuming but he seemed unable to sustain his anger. His stare softened and, if anything, reflected a certain admiration and, perhaps, desire for the outspoken girl.

Victor took a deep breath and stepped decisively towards the group. 'I am not a member of the council either, but I have a say too,' he said in a raised voice.

Everyone looked towards this new intruder.

'This matter is beyond the brigade leaders and council members alone,' Victor continued. 'We are all a part of the rebellion, every man, woman and child in this camp and the others. I am under Sebastian's banner as your lieutenants are under yours. But Sebastian does not own me. We are not a conscript army marching at the behest of ambitious officers. We are individuals, egalitarians expressing our beliefs and willing to put our lives on the line for them. This is a critical time in our adventure and we all have the right to say what we believe.'

The speech was met by mixed reactions among the rebel leaders. Louisa did not hide her evident fondness for Victor.

'And so what is it that you believe, Victor?' Hector asked with more than a hint of contempt in his voice.

'I do not believe that when you have your sword against the throat of your adversary you remove it in order to negotiate with him - certainly not with one like Neravista.'

'But you can't expect a straight answer from a man with a blade at his throat,' the big brigade commander replied. 'I believe it is time, not to give up our weapons but to keep them with due vigilance in our hands while we try to work something out. Neravista wants to discuss terms. We should give him the s.p.a.ce to do so.'

'Have you forgotten what kind of animal he is?' Sebastian said, getting to his feet. 'He has murdered thousands of our people, many of whom died at the hands of torturers such as his own brother. Those people lost their lives simply because they wanted a change, a fairer, more just alternative. We began this fight to remove Neravista. But all you want is to join him. Do that and you will only share the blame for the blood he has on his hands.'

'Be very careful, Sebastian,' Hector growled.

'There is no negotiating with Neravista!' Sebastian insisted. 'He has to be destroyed. And we cannot allow another dictator like him to take power. We have to wipe this country's political slate clean. We must begin again. We will build a government based on liberal democracy. Freedom. That cannot be negotiated with Neravista. To him, the words "liberal" and "democracy" are like a crucifix to a vampire. He will fight to the death of everyone in this country to hold on to his power. He has no choice. He knows he will die otherwise.'

Most of the rebel leaders paused for thought at this. One of them, sitting beside Hector, whispered in his ear.

Hector looked at Stratton. 'Who is that man?' he boomed. 'Since when are strangers invited to listen in on our council meetings?'

'He works for Steel,' Victor said.

'Why is he here?'

Victor was about to speak when Hector interrupted him. 'Let him speak for himself.'

All stares focused on Stratton. 'I'm just the delivery boy,' he said.

'Ah. The weapons,' Hector surmised.

'He's our guest,' Victor said. 'There's no need for this.'

'I know why you brought these weapons here, Sebastian. Not to destroy Neravista's army but to destroy this opportunity for peace. That decision was made by you and you alone. Is that the kind of liberal democracy you are fighting for, Victor? I'm beginning to wonder if we might not just be exchanging one Neravista for another.'

'How dare you?' Louisa snapped, stepping forward aggressively.

Her father put an arm out to halt her.

Hector was aware that he had gone too far and directed his ire elsewhere. 'Leave,' he said to Stratton.

'Stay where you are,' said Victor.

Stratton was rapidly growing uncomfortable with the situation. He did not like the way things were heading.

'Don't dare to counter my command,' Hector shouted at Victor. He looked at Stratton. 'Get out of this country,' he growled at him.

Stratton did not move, more out of indecision than stubbornness. Lines were clearly being drawn in the sand and whoever he obeyed would score a point. Right then, he felt like siding with Sebastian but he reckoned he should leave his options wide open. The only thing he was certain of was his regret at not getting out earlier.

'You either leave on your own or I will have you tied behind a mule and dragged,' Hector said, taking a step from the table towards him. Several of his men moved their hands to their pistols, staring malevolently at Stratton.

The Englishman had suddenly become a political football in this overheated debate. Since he was not one of the rebels his death could be an acceptable symbolic insult to the Sebastian faction that no one would actually be obliged to avenge. Stratton thought of his M4 resting on the pack behind him and won - dered which way he should run when he grabbed it.

'He is our guest,' Victor repeated defiantly, straightening his back. 'You will stop this childish bullying.' His determination to stand up to Hector was clear for all to see.

Hector was a short-tempered bear who was unused to being disobeyed and Victor's att.i.tude served only to enrage him. He reached beneath his jacket and took out a glistening machete. 'You dare to give me orders, and in front of the council! I'll show you what I think of your guest,' he said, striding towards Stratton. 'Run, little dog, or I'll cut you in two.'

Stratton appeared to have only one ally and it looked as if he was not going to be enough. The Englishman watched the big man step closer, his mind racing through his very limited number of choices. If he stood his ground and defended himself he would lose whatever sympathy the others might have for him. If he took off, their hostile feelings might not be intense enough for them to want to pursue him. It was a case of saving his skin or his pride. Staying alive was the wiser choice and he decided that if he could depart at a walking pace it might at least leave him some pride. He raised his hands in a soothing gesture and was about to step back when Victor stepped in front of him to face Hector.

Sebastian's second in command tightened his jaw as Hector neared them.

'Don't challenge me, Victor. Step aside.'

Victor did not move.

Hector continued to advance. 'I said step aside.'

The Frenchman clenched his sweat-soaked fists at his sides. It was clear to everyone that he was not going to get out of Hector's way.

The big man stopped an arm's reach from him, keeping his machete level. 'This is the last time I will ask. Stand aside.'

'I will not.'

Hector grew conscious of the many stares that were fixed upon them. In his anger he had gone further than was wise. He had made threats that he had not expected to have to carry out.The gringo was supposed to run away and Victor was not supposed to challenge him in this way. There was now only one way out of this. If he backed down, even though everyone would know it was out of pity for Victor, he would lose face. Sebastian's poodle would have won. There was too much at stake. The parley with Neravista was more important to him than the chastis.e.m.e.nt he would receive for killing the Frenchman. He was going to have to wound the man, at least. 'You go too far, Victor,' he said raising the machete.

As Hector drew back the weapon in readiness to strike, an arrow shot from the darkness and slammed into a wooden post a few feet from him. Its fletching was painted orange and attached to the nock by a small piece of gut was the long slender tail feather of a quetzal bird. Another arrow followed quickly, striking inches away, its long shaft quivering before it grew still.

All stares went to the arrows and to Hector who was frozen to the spot. Everyone at the table knew the missiles' significance. From the darkness the old Indian stepped into the glow from the fire. He did not have a bow in his hand, just a spear, but behind him, moving deliberately, the two young Indians emerged, their bows drawn fully back, fresh arrows levelled, the firelight highlighting the subtle circular tattoos on their hairless arms and torsos. The icy look of total commitment filled their eyes.

One of Hector's lieutenants moved a hand to his pistol. The first young Indian pointed the tip of one of the arrows in the taut bow towards him and the man let go of his weapon. No one present doubted that the slightest aggressive move by Hector or his men would end lethally for them.

'Call off your Indians,' Hector hissed angrily.

'Please don't move,' Victor said rather nervously, glancing back imploringly at the Indians. 'I don't have as much control over them as some people think.'

'I said call them off !' The commander was incensed. Not only had he been stopped in mid-blow but he had been forced to stand there looking like a fool, unable to move. Like everyone else, he was well aware of the Indians' complete fidelity to Victor.

'Put down your blade,'Victor said, stretching an arm out towards the Indians. 'Slowly'.

Hector lowered his arm and stepped back. He faced Sebastian. 'This is a black day,' he growled.

'Don't let your injured pride take control of your judgement,' the old man advised.

'I will give you time to reconsider your position. But not long. I urge you to think it over carefully. We can end this war together. Or you can continue it alone.'

Hector marched away, his men following. The other brigade leaders nodded respectful farewells towards Sebastian and headed away into the darkness.

Sebastian left the table and walked to the main cabin. Louisa followed him.

Victor breathed out noisily, relaxing visibly as the strain eased. He looked back at Stratton. 'Why didn't you just run?'

'Why didn't you let me go when I asked?'

Victor conceded the point.

Stratton picked up his rifle and slung his pack over one shoulder. 'Well, thanks very much. I'll be on my way, unless there's anything else.'

'There's no point in you going now,' Victor said.

'Is that French humour?'

'You'll be okay for tonight. I'll arrange an escort in the morning. They'll take you to the border. No one will bother you any further, I can a.s.sure you.'

Stratton looked around at the Indians and tended to believe him.

'You can stay in the cottage,' Victor added.

Stratton shrugged his agreement. 'Thanks for stepping in, anyway,' he said.

Victor rolled his eyes at the comment as if Stratton had no idea of the problems that it had created. 'I could do with a drink,' Victor decided, heading towards the cabin furthest from Sebastian's.

Stratton followed, looking back at the Indians who were watching him. He gave them a wave which was not returned.

'I owed you,' Victor said. 'The rocket. I repay my debts.'

'Is that the only reason you stood up to Hector?'

Victor paused at the door of the cabin, glancing at Stratton as if he had broached a delicate subject. 'I would have done it anyway.'

Stratton found the answer curious. 'Why?'

'You no doubt suspected there's a history between Hector and me. It's true. There is. But it's all on his side. I would have stepped in front of him anyway, like I said, but I'm not entirely sure why. Ask them,' he said, indicating the Indians.

Victor pushed the cabin door open and walked inside.

Stratton glanced back at the Indians, who were talking among themselves. None the wiser, he followed Victor into a large room that was lit by a hurricane lamp. It was open-plan, equipped with a small kitchen, a dining table and several chairs, a couple of them facing a cold grate filled with fresh logs. The room seemed to be used for storage. All kinds of boxes were stacked around, most of them marked with US military stencils. A flight of stairs led up to an open mezzanine half the length of the cabin with a balcony that overlooked the ground floor. Under the stairs was a collection of very large gla.s.s bottles in woven baskets with corks the size of fists sealing their necks.

'Hector has always been antagonistic towards me,' Victor said as he inspected the contents of a collection of well-used cooking pots on the stove. 'Resentful is probably a better description,' he corrected himself, feeling inside one of several clay pots on a shelf and producing an onion. 'I think it's just a strategy on his part. I'm another way of getting at Sebastian,' he added, searching a box on a shelf for more ingredients and a variety of local vegetables.

'Are there many foreigners here?'

'We've had soldiers of fortune from other parts of the world come through over the years. We don't have the money to pay them. Some have stayed anyway. A few, like me, are here on principle. I'm not a soldier of fortune, I hasten to add. There are some Spaniards in the Fourth Brigade, a handful of Americans in the Second.' His nose wrinkled in horror as he sniffed the contents of one of the pots. 'You're probably not fussy about what you eat, are you?'

Stratton was used to people a.s.suming that because he was a soldier he was uncultured. He would have been the first to admit that he was a long way from sophisticated but neither was he a total slob. 'I'll have what's on offer,' he replied.

'I have become used to poor cuisine,' said Victor, sniffing a piece of meat on a muslin-covered plate. 'It is probably the greatest sacrifice I make by staying here and the one least appreciated by my comrades.' He took a gla.s.s jug off a shelf, shook it upside down to remove any dust and held it out to Stratton. 'Fill that, please,' he said, indicating the bottles under the stairs.

Stratton inspected the tops of the huge bottles and found one that had already been opened. It was almost full and too heavy to lift easily so he tipped it onto the side of its wicker base and poured some of the velvet-red contents into the jug. He replaced the cork and brought the jug over to Victor who handed him a clay mug which he filled with the wine along with one for himself. 'I suppose you don't care what you drink, either.'

'I know when a wine is corked,' Stratton replied. 'I just don't mind drinking it.'

'Ah. An honest Englishman.' Victor was about to propose a toast but paused thoughtfully and scratched the several days' growth on his cheeks. 'I don't know what to drink to. Today's unforgettable past or tomorrow's uncertain future . . . Let's keep it simple. Sante.'

'Cheers,' Stratton said.

They took healthy swigs. Both men grimaced as they lowered their mugs.

'That's an interesting grape,' Stratton offered, clearing his throat.

'You think it's made from grapes?' Victor said, sarcastically. 'My taste buds are ruined.' He went back to preparing the food. 'I was born not far from a vineyard that was overlooked by the Pyrenees. When I was a young boy I would sometimes sneak in and eat the grapes until I could hardly walk. I would lie and stare at the mountains and daydream of being an adventurer. They were Tannat grapes and when I grew up I preferred to drink the wine that was made from them. All my life I could recognise the smell of a Madiran from across a crowded room . . . I don't think I could tell the difference between it and a gla.s.s of acid today.'

Stratton looked out of the window. The fire, left untended, was growing dim. The three Indians were sharing a meal at the big table. 'What's the story with them?' he asked.

'The old one is Yoinakuwa, and Kebowa and Mohesiwa are his sons,' Victor said as he chopped vegetables. 'They've been following me around for over three years now. I can't get rid of them.'

'That sounds like a complaint.'

'It is and it isn't, of course. Today was not the first time they've changed someone's mind about attacking me.' He put the vegetables into a pot. They sizzled immediately.

'They just follow you around for no reason?' Stratton asked, wondering what the rest of the story was.

Victor seemed reluctant to elaborate and drained the mug. Stratton refilled it and Victor continued with the story. 'I came to this country five years ago as a jungle-canopy research scientist. You ever heard of the Nerugan nature reserve?'

Stratton shook his head.

'It's a hundred kilometres north-west of here, near the border. I was the station director. Yoinakuwa led the tribe that lived in the reserve. He was a king of his people. It wasn't a huge tribe but big enough to have a king. King Yoinakuwa,' Victor emphasised. 'I like the way it rolls off the tongue.

'A year or so before we built the facility, which was a couple of years after we began raising funds for the project, gold was discovered across the border. The subsequent frenzy spilled over into the reserve. We pet.i.tioned the government not to award any licences to mine the gold in the reserve and at first it looked as if we'd been successful. But we were naive. We should have guessed that if there was no official mining company it would leave the place wide open to illegal miners. They began coming in and setting up small camps all over the place. It didn't affect us, not right away. But it wasn't good for Yoinakuwa and his people. The miners had no respect for the land. They hunted anything and everything, placing crude traps all over the place, competing with Yoinakuwa's people for the food. That's when we . . . when I became more involved. I found Yoinakuwa a legal representative. My plan was to get the Indians to make their own claims to the land they had occupied for thousands of years. My naivety was only just beginning.

'The illegal miners came up with a plan of their own, a rather simple and terrible one. Knowing it would take a long time for the Indians to legalise the claim they decided simply to wipe them out. Kill them. The depth of human depravity is beyond measure. After the first few killings Yoinakuwa and his people got ready to defend their land and hunting grounds from these foreign invaders. But they had no idea what they were up against. They had bows and spears but the enemy had rifles. And they were prepared to pay men to come in and use them. Yoinakuwa's tribe quickly became the hunted. I tried to attract international attention to the illegal gold mining that was causing genocide. Guess what?'

'The miners came for you.'

'Exactly. That's when I learned there was no limit to my naivety . . . The strategy against us was more subtle. But not too too subtle. They began by destroying our equipment and intimidating our guards. When that was not enough they murdered two of them. And when that was not enough they tried to kill me. I was operating our COPAS one afternoon-' subtle. They began by destroying our equipment and intimidating our guards. When that was not enough they murdered two of them. And when that was not enough they tried to kill me. I was operating our COPAS one afternoon-'

'COPAS?'

'Canopy Operation Permanent-Access System. It's a large helium ballon with a basket suspended below that allows you to move vertically and horizontally on a system of wires through the treetops.'

'Ah. The balloon in the canopy,' Stratton said, recalling Victor's comment when they first met.

'Those were my favourite times. I could spend all day up there. It was like being in a different world that had its own laws of nature, a microcosm of life practically independent from the ground. It even had its own weather. Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds shot at the balloon while I was in it. They burst it and it crashed to the ground. I was lucky to survive. They thought they had killed me and tried to cover up my supposed murder by burning down the facility and making it look as if the Indians had done it. When they realised I had survived the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds came to kill me again. I managed to escape into the forest and went in search of the only allies I had. I arrived at Yoinakuwa's village just as the mercenaries that the miners had hired were mounting their attack. They destroyed every hut and hunted down and killed nearly every man, woman and child. I found Yoinakuwa lying unconscious beside his dead wife and daughters. His two sons were making a last stand beside him. I had a rifle that had belonged to our security guards. I held off the mercenaries long enough to get Yoinakuwa and his boys out of there. They killed everyone else, every member of Yoinakuwa's tribe. The miners' aim was to destroy the Indians so that none of them would ever be able to challenge the invaders' rights to the mines. And they succeeded . . . or as good as.