Renegade 31

by Lou Cameron

  He laughed, took her in his arms and flattened her on the moss to cup a breast in his free hand as he kissed her soundly, and ask, “Does this seem coy, or scientific?”

  She gasped and said, “Stop it! Stop this instant! What on earth’s gotten into you, Dick?”

  “Something I’d like to get into, I guess. Do we have to go on with this bull, Phyl? We’ve established that we’re both interested in scientific research and in all modesty I have to be as good looking as your average Indian chief. So what say you make friends with me and I’ll let you photograph the results, see?”

  She started to push him away. Then she stared up at him with sudden interest and said, “Hmm, you do have a magnificent physique and with a mask on you probably could pass for an Indian at that!”

  He blinked and said, “You’re kidding, I hope. I know I was, about posing in the nude at any rate.”

  But she insisted. “If I underexposed the film you’d look dark enough. The contrast between your big frame and that little Santa Rosa would make for a very quaint shot and—”

  “I’ll bet it would,” he muttered, kissing her again to shut her up as he ran his hand down her sweaty shirt and up under her skirt. As he remembered, Phyl wasn’t wearing anything under it, bless her, but as he got to home base and began to slide she twisted her face from his to plead, “No! Not me, Santa Rosa, you idiot! It wouldn’t be proper for you to make love to me! I hardly know you and I’m engaged to a newspaper editor back home!”

  “I was wondering how you got the job. Think of this as detached research into the mores of the jungle, Phyl. I’m in the jungle and I’m starting to feel immoral as hell, in a detached scientific way, of course.”

  “Stop it, you brute! Would you rape a defenseless woman?”

  Actually, he wouldn’t, and he was about to give up, now that he’d taught the little prick tease a lesson. But meanwhile her tight little snatch was fun to play with and, from the way it was twitching around his fingers right now, he wasn’t sure which end of her was telling the truth, so he played with it a little more and, sure enough, she sighed and said, “Oh, very well, but only if you’ll wait until I put a tribal mask on. John would never approve if it wasn’t in the line of research.”

  He thought she was trying to get him off her with a ploy too stupid to believe. But as he fingered her some more she insisted, “Dammit, I just said yes, but let’s do it right, for heaven’s sake!”

  So he let her up and they did. He watched, bemused, as Phyl sat up primly, got a grotesque mask of plaited straw from her kit, and put it on before she just as matter-of-factly proceeded to undress. She looked spooky as well as nuts with her head encased in that ugly native mask, but the rest of her looked great and he wasted no time getting out of his own sweaty linen. He reached for her again as she put her whipcord skirt demurely aside. But she stopped him and said, “Wait, I have to set up the camera and you have to wear a mask, too. I could never go all the way with a man I wasn’t engaged to, unless I couldn’t see his face.”

  At this point Captain Gringo didn’t care if she wanted him to lay her carrying an umbrella. So he put on the green papier-mâché mask she chose for him and didn’t mind it smelling like cheese. He said, “Me heap big chief. Me gottem heap big hard-on. Can we cut this comedy and get to it, now?”

  She said, “Wait,” as she knelt on her shapely knees, adjusting her box camera as it rested atop its case. Then she held on to the rubber bulb one worked the shutter with and moved on her hands and knees into position in front of it before she said, “Very well, we can get quaint now, dear.”

  He moved over in his own somewhat embarrassed state of masked nakedness, thinking, if she didn’t want to kiss while she did it a guy would just have to make do. But as he tried to roll her over she insisted, her voice oddly muffled by her mask, “Don’t be silly. Didn’t you know most primitives do it in a kneeling position?”

  He laughed like hell and moved around behind her. Then he gripped a shapely hip in each hand, got his raging erection in position and shoved in hard, asking, “Like this?”

  She gasped, “Oh, my God, you might have warned me! But not so fast, dear. I can’t take a time exposure with you moving in and out like that and ... oh, never mind, maybe we can take the picture once you and, oh my God, I think I may be coming too!”

  That didn’t surprise him as much as she said it surprised her. She’d been teasing him for hours and a lady who couldn’t stay off the subject had to be feeling something. He could tell she was when she arched her back to take it deeper and moaned like a cat in heat while he pounded them both to glory. He came deep inside her, shuddering with protracted pleasure, for old Phyl had a fantastic body, even if her head seemed to be screwed on wrong.

  She sighed and said, “Oh, dear, I shouldn’t have allowed myself to enjoy that so much. But I’m sure John will understand when I show him this picture. Don’t move, Dick. We have to hold this pose at least a full minute, see?”

  He did, and he could be a good sport. But holding that particular pose was a bitch and it was a good thing the camera wasn’t trying to record what was going on inside her as he remained in position, dog style, breathing through soggy papier-mâché as he resisted the impulse to move his hips even though her soft wet interior was pulsing teasingly on his twitching shaft. He hadn’t had nearly enough and from the way she was breathing toward the last she must have noticed. But her voice was quite objective as she said, “I think that does it. I suppose you have to move some more now?”

  He said, “I’ve had enough of this nonsense. You know what we both want, bad.”

  He was no doubt right. But as he rolled her on her back to mount her right, Phyl protested, “This isn’t a quaint native position, dammit, and I told you I was engaged!”

  He jerked his own dumb mask off as he entered her again in the more romantic position. She responded with vigor to his thrusts, but as he pulled her mask off Phyl clenched her eyes tightly shut and protested, “No, no, we can't make love like white people, Dick! That would be cheating on John!”

  He kissed her anyway. She sighed and wrapped her arms as well as legs around him and neither said anything until they’d come together. As his senses began to sort themselves out, Captain Gringo kissed her more gently and said, “Sorry, John. Lost my head there for a minute. But what the hell, it was still on moss in a jungle hut, right?” Phyl sighed, opened her eyes, and smiled sheepishly up at him to admit, “This does feel primitive as well as nice. But we have to keep this scientific, darling. What if I got on top this time, wearing another mask? We might as well take full advantage of this rare photographic opportunity, don’t you agree?”

  He did, with a laugh, and so the rest of the day was spent in the name of science.

  Later, out on the river under the rising moon, Phyl seemed a bit miffed. She’d decided that John might not understand her scientific research after all, and kept making Captain Gringo promise not to abuse her anymore. That’s what some dames called it, once they’d cooled down—abuse.

  He swore he’d never touch her again. He’d know whether he meant it or not the next time she came at him with camera and props. Up forward, Alejandro was still dozing on and off, despite a day’s rest. Maria lay asleep beside him on the cordwood. Maybe that was why Alejandro was so tired. Gaston had said Maria had made up with her husband later that afternoon, after learning some new tricks from Gaston. Santa Rosa seemed anxious to learn more, since she was up in the bows with Gaston, out of sight if not out of earshot. Captain Gringo made no comment even when they rocked the boat a bit. He knew Gaston could stand watch while he got laid and it would have been a waste of time to tell him to stop.

  Since the Indians had drifted a full night before meeting the launch at dawn, a full night steaming up the Segovia at about the same rate the current moved down it put them somewhere close by the time the sun rose again. The bugs hadn’t been as bad overnight and the netting was awkward to get through. So they had it rolled up when Alejand
ro announced from his perch on the rail they were approaching his landing. They had to take this on faith, since the Indians were too smart to build a village within sight of the river. Alejandro had confirmed that not much traffic had been moving on the Segovia of late, but the Lenca were lying low anyway.

  As he steamed across to the north bank, it never occurred to Captain Gringo to warn Phyl not to make any unexpected suspicious moves. He didn’t see why she should. As they approached the far shore Alejandro grabbed an awning post and stood on the rail. There was nothing to be seen on shore but a wall of spinach green. But when what sounded like a howler monkey sounded off over there, old Alejandro called back the same way. Captain Gringo wondered how the Lencas kept from confusing a real howler with a friendly neighbor. It probably didn’t matter. Neither was likely to shoot a Lenca just for the hell of it.

  From the bow, Gaston called back, “Don’t ground the keel until we know these people a little better, Dick!” and Captain Gringo told him to tell him something he didn’t know. To Alejandro, he called, “Move yourself and your wives up to the bow and be ready to jump, amigo. I’ll hold against the current, but if you don’t mind, we won’t be staying long.”

  Alejandro laughed like a mean little kid and said he understood. Then he blessed Captain Gringo’s mother, Captain Gringo’s father, and ordered his women into position in his own language. Later, Captain Gringo would realize the American girl in the launch hadn’t been following the drift in either language all that well, but he thought nothing of it when she moved forward with them. He assumed she wanted to take a picture or something.

  Gaston was asleep at the switch, too, as the bow glided to a halt a few feet out from the red clay bank. The Frenchman was covering the brooding shoreline as politely as possible and barely glanced their way as the three Indians leaped ashore to stagger into the trees. But he came unstuck as Phyl shouted, “Wait for me!” and dropped from the bow, camera in hand, to land ankle deep in muddy water and wade shoreward after them. Gaston shouted, “Mais non, cherie! Not when you have not been invited!”

  But it was already too late. Alejandro was shouting, too, as reed arrows hissed out of the jungle to hit the white girl in rapid succession as Gaston cursed, started shooting blindly back, and wailed, “Reverse engine, tout de suite!” The order was wasted on Captain Gringo, who’d of course reversed the screw even as Gaston had first shouted, without waiting to find out why. More arrows were thunking into the hull and spanging off the boiler plate in front of him as he backed off, wondering why Gaston had stopped firing. When he shouted the question he was relieved to hear Gaston shouting back, “Because I am trying to stick my nose in the bilge, of course! Can’t you back this species of sitting duck any faster?”

  “I’m trying to, dammit! What happened to Phyl? Is she okay?”

  “Merde alors, is a pin cushion okay? Get us out of range, dammit! There is nothing we can do for her and the suckers of cocks are lobbing those adorable arrows from cover!”

  Captain Gringo swung the stern as he backed it out of arrow range, but when he could see the landing place there was nothing to be seen but, as Gaston had said, a hostile wall of solid green. He stared at the placid surface rolling over the place where Phyl had made her unannounced and hence unwelcome landing. Her pith hat already bobbed well downstream. There was no other sign of the American girl. As Gaston came back to join him, ashen faced, Captain Gringo said, “We can’t just steam on and leave her. She could still be alive!”

  Gaston asked, “Merde alors, how? Before I ducked I observed at least three arrows in her and she was already starting to drop, in the water, not on shore. It is no use, Dick. I told you not to stop for Lencas, remember?”

  “Don’t rub it in. If I had a machine gun right now—”

  “But you do not,” Gaston cut in, adding, “Even if you did, the treacherous cockroaches will have vanished deep into the woodwork by now! Chalk the girl up to sad experience and perhaps the next Lenca we meet will not find us so agreeable, non?”

  Captain Gringo sighed, threw the screw full speed forward, and said, “That attitude is just what got poor Phyl killed. It wasn’t Alejandro’s idea. His friends ashore didn’t understand what was happening. I doubt if anyone in the tribe’s ever hitched a ride with whites before. So when they saw a white person chasing him and the girls they knew ashore ... Aw, shit, let’s get on up to Ciudad Segovia so we can fight people who understand us better.”

  Considering how hard it was to get to Ciudad Segovia, things started going remarkably right for a change once they got there. The modest if imposingly named settlement was laid out on higher and cooler ground that would still be a savannah of waist-high grass and scattered tropical pine and live oak if the settlers hadn’t cultivated a wide green belt of irrigated farmland around it. The town itself was a good hike from the river, but when they tied up to the dock their map had said would be there they found everything but a German band to make them welcome, and they didn’t have to hike at all. A courteous young officer said he’d take care of the steam launch for them. So they let him load them and the little gear they’d decided to keep in a comfortable coach for the ride to the city itself.

  Someone must have ridden in ahead of them, because when they drew up in front of the stucco presidential palace El Presidente Torrez in person was waiting on the steps to greet them, along with a mess of even more important looking dignitaries. After telling them his casa was their casa, Torrez asked, “What kept you and for why did you come by way of the Segovia, señores? We have been expecting you at the other landing, over on the Patuca. That is the way most of our traffic comes, now that we have a railroad to the Patuca. One just cannot trust those Nicaraguans to the south, eh?”

  Captain Gringo said it was a long story and as the older man led them inside he added, “It might not have been a bad idea, coming in the back way, even by accident. Somebody must not like us working for you and, by the way, was the late Maureen O’Flannery in your pay or someone less couth?”

  Torrez marched them into a vast sitting room and sat them down as he verified Maureen had been a good kid after all. They’d heard about the mysterious bombings in San José, thanks to news getting around faster by cable than steamboat or an even slower steam launch. Torrez said he didn’t see how El Viejo del Montaña could have agents as far afield as Costa Rica, adding he was a bit on the primitive side, even for a bandit. Torrez had no idea who that left.

  He said, “As you no doubt know, we need you because people got fresh with bombs here in Ciudad Segovia a few nights ago. But after a thorough investigation it seems to have been a clumsy power play among officers we no longer have to worry about. El Viejo del Montaña has much to answer to his maker about, soon, one would hope, but none of his guerrillas were anywhere near here when our general staff decided to assassinate itself out of mere pique.”

  Captain Gringo nodded and said, “Bueno. I’d like a look at your situation map as soon as possible, to see where the old bastard might be right now.”

  Torrez was a civilian, so it was easy to forgive him when he looked blank and shot a glance up at one of his followers. But since the guy he was silently asking wore a uniform grand enough for a New York doorman, it was less easy to excuse him when he looked back just as blankly and said, “Situation map? What is a situation map, Captain Gringo?”

  Torrez looked disgusted too, and said, “You will address your new superior as General Walker, Major Parez, and whatever a situation map may be, you will get one for him at once, eh?”

  Parez just looked miserable as well as confused. So Captain Gringo said, “Never mind right now, sir. I’ll show them how that works. I’d like to inspect my command, first. So if Major Parez will be good enough—”

  Parez objected. “Now? So late in the day, ah, my general? It is almost siesta time and you must be tired after your long journey, no?”

  Captain Gringo said, “No. We got to sit down most of the way and the reason we arrived by daylight is that t
he last few days on the river have been through cool and open country. I know it’s the custom for your people to take La Siesta whether it’s hot or not, Parez, but this is a national emergency, so try to see it my way for now, eh?”

  The Segovian officer stiffened and replied in a tone dangerously close to insubordination, “And just what is this way of yours, if I may ask, my great general?”

  Captain Gringo rose, smiling pleasantly, and said, “West Point, class of ’88. Where did you get your commission? Did you send away a box top and fifty words or less on how much you enjoyed Quaker Oats?”

  Parez didn’t grasp the full insult, but he grasped enough to get red faced and even more sullen. Presidente Torrez said, “Do as your superior tells you, Major, unless you would prefer to be a private, here and now!”

  So naturally Parez said he’d just been kidding and told the two Soldiers of fortune to wait there while he spread Word the new C.O. wanted a general inspection that afternoon.

  Captain Gringo shook his head and said, “We’ll come with you if you don’t mind. You’d be surprised how much dirt the enlisted men can sweep under the rug when they know in advance they’re about to be inspected.”

  Parez probably minded a lot. But he nodded stiffly and told them to just follow him. So they did. Captain Gringo waited until they were well clear of the presidential palace and on a side street the surly officer said led to the military garrison before he grabbed Parez, spun him flat against a rough stucco wall, and shoved the muzzle of his .38 in his face, saying pleasantly enough, “I think we’d better have a word in private before you introduce me to my command, Parez.”

  The Segovian blanched and whimpered, “Are you mad? I thought I was on your side, Yanqui!”