by Lou Cameron
Captain Gringo shot a wistful look around them and said, “If you can keep your head when all the others are losing theirs, you probably don’t under- stand the situation. That’s a joke, son, but I’ve got to wake up in the morning with a clear head and a gun that works. Let’s go.”
He noticed the two women of the household remained behind at the party as Zurdo led him into the darkness beyond the firelight. Since the village was tiny, the house wasn’t far. Zurdo opened a door and struck a match to light a candle just inside. The interior was an open el, with the kitchen area in one wing and three bedsteads built into the adobe walls of the other. Zurdo moved the candle over to a raw plank table near the beehive fireplace and put it down. He asked if Captain Gringo needed anything else and when the American shook his head, Zurdo was off and running to get back to the brawl.
Captain Gringo could hear the sounds of merrymaking from here as he placed the Maxim on the table and took his cleaning kit from a jacket pocket. As a pro who traveled light, he packed a minimum-sized flat tin of the absolute necessities. He had a couple of small wrenches and used the edge of a dime-sized coin for a screwdriver. Once a few key screws and nuts were on the table, the Maxim could be field stripped by hand. He used the two little vials from the kit to clean and re-grease the block action. Then he unscrewed the barrel, removed it from the water jacket, and peered through the bore as he held it toward the candle like a telescope. It wasn’t badly fouled, thanks to the new smokeless powder Remington was using, now. He dropped a length of fishing line down the barrel, tied a wad of rag soaked in cleaning fluid to one end and an oily rag to the other. Then he took turns pulling each through the bore by the string until he was satisfied with the bore’s silvery sheen.
He put the gun back together, replaced the half-used belt, and lugged it around the corner to the sleeping el. He propped the gun in a corner, went back to the table, and cleaned his pistol before putting the kit away. He found a water jar and took a drink. Then he stepped out into the back yard and took a leak. He wasn’t hungry, but it had been a long day and he didn’t know when he’d get another crack at a bed. So, despite not really feeling exhausted, he decided to try for a flop.
The boy had forgotten to tell him which of the three beds was his, but what the hell, all three of them were likely to stay up all night at the celebration in the plaza. He chose one at random and blew out the candle to undress in the dark. Then he got in and pulled the wool blanket over his naked flesh. There were no sheets, but the pillow was cotton and smooth. It was scented with perfume, so he knew he was either in Joselita’s bed, or, more likely, her mother’s. Dirt poor peons found even cheap perfume expensive, but the boy had said the older broad had certain extra ways of earning pin money. He didn’t feel up to changing beds. Zurdo didn’t look like he’d bathed in recent memory.
He lay there in the dark, trying to go to sleep as the sounds of music and laughter from the plaza tinkled in the distance. He didn’t want to think about the mission, but he wasn’t tired enough to put it out of his mind. Those other soldiers of fortune had said this coast was innocent, too. Could Greystoke have been telling the truth about the submarine base being over on the other side of the mountains? That was a dismal thought. It made more sense the other way. Greystoke had sent them on a fool’s errand to cover his own devious tracks. But, then, why had someone from the U.S. Consulate sent those unwashed bastards over this way? Was Uncle Sam being devious, too?
He muttered aloud, “Greystoke knew Americans were operating on this side. Uncle Sam thinks he has priority in Latin America, so Greystoke sent us the wrong way to keep Washington from telling the British to butt out. They and the Germans were both watching to see if the British would ignore the Monroe Doctrine. He knew they were expecting, him to. Right. He hires a bunch of bums everyone knows about and sends them in a direction nobody gives a damn about. Berlin and Washington probably both think Greystoke’s a harmless twit. That’s what he wanted them to think. Meanwhile, real British agents are free to search anywhere they want!”
He felt his eyelids getting heavy, so he closed them. But sleep refused to come. Why had the Americans sent those other bums, and, if they’d made a sweep of the west coast without finding anything, didn’t that mean there was nothing to find?
“Don’t be stupid.” He told himself. “If the place was easy to find, people wouldn’t be busting a gut looking for it! That gang of cutthroats didn’t have enough sense to hold the high ground after inviting an attack. They could have walked right past an elephant without spotting it. All they really told you is that the German whatever must be reasonably hard to spot. But you already knew that, so get some sleep!”
He heard the door open and called out, “Zurdo?”
A feminine whisper answered, “Hush! Zurdo is flirting with the Morales girl. He will not be back tonight, if I am any judge of the Morales girl!”
Captain Gringo propped himself up on one elbow with a frown as he heard the swish of garments falling to the floor. Then a naked lady got in bed with him and proceeded to kiss the shit out of him.
He returned her kisses with enthusiasm as he ran his hand over soft excited flesh. She plastered her turgid nippled breasts against his chest as she fondled his aroused erection and sighed, “Oh, muy toro! Let me get on top!”
He lay back and let her mount him as she lowered her face to his to tongue him. He ran one hand down her spine to cup a buttock and the other up into her hair. He felt the thorny stem of a rose, but kissed hard, anyway. Young Joselita had been too much to hope for.
He hissed in surprised pleasure as Zurdo’s mother enveloped him in her moist warm groin and started moving with astounding skill. Gaston had often chided him for being too romantic for whores, and he agreed that whores know how to better than most nicer girls. His reasons for refusing their offers were pragmatic rather than delicate. He’d laid too many women, himself, to be bothered by following another man’s act. It was their cold-blooded attitude about sex that he didn’t like. A man felt like an idiot bouncing up and down on a broad he’d just argued money with. But this one was obviously doing it for her own pleasure as well as his, and bitch lines or not, she was not bad looking, and wild in bed.
She literally milked him off with her experienced pulsating twat, and he could tell by her contractions that she spoke the truth when she said she was coming, too. It was no wonder she hadn’t been too understanding about her daughter’s reluctance. She was a born earth mother who loved to screw.
They relaxed in each other’s arms as they came back from Paradise a ways. Then he said, “Let’s do it right, this time,” and rolled her over without withdrawing as she hugged him with her thighs. As he got on top and started moving, she raised her knees to his armpits and locked them there to help him bounce. But she whispered, “Hurry. I must get back to the plaza before anyone misses me. They will say bad things about us if they find out.”
He didn’t argue. He liked the warm afterglow, when the sated woman in his arms was someone he liked. But this one was a wild animal and he didn’t want to wake up with her, anyway. He didn’t even know her name, but it didn’t matter. She was pure raw sex, and damned good at it, too.
She started moaning with barnyard passion as she dug her nails into his buttocks to urge him deeper as she corkscrewed her pelvis astoundingly. He didn’t hold back to be polite. She’d said to hurry and it was great to use her selfishly, knowing she had no soul for him to worry about. He was sure he’d come ahead of her, but he didn’t. She went wild under him as she had a shuddering multiple orgasm and she was still coming when he exploded inside her.
They lay there panting and sweating, as contented as pigs rutting in a sty. Then she sighed and said “I must get back to the party. That was very nice.”
He grinned and said, “Por nada. Are you coming back?”
She chuckled fondly, twitched her internal muscles, and said, “If I can. But let me up before we get hot again. The gossips in this village have dirty min
ds and I have been gone at least fifteen minutes!”
He rolled off and she slid out of the bed and dressed in the dark with expertise before she slipped out without long good-byes. Captain Gringo smiled in the dark as he lay back, relaxed and drained. There was a lot to be said for a nice quick uncomplicated lay. He was ready to fall asleep, now.
He did. And he must have been having a bad dream, because he sat bolt upright, staring in the dark as he wondered what had awakened him and where he was. He got his bearings as he ran his hand over perfumed wool and heard the sound of castanets and a guitar in the distance. He heard the rustle of cloth, too, and sighed. She’d come back for more, apparently.
He wondered what time it was and what she’d say if he told her he wanted to go back to sleep. A voice whispered, “Are you awake?” and he said, “I am, now. I see you got away from the old biddies.’
“Si, everyone is either very drunk or sleeping, now. Nobody suspects I have returned to the house, Querido.”
She climbed in bed with him and husked, “Take me, my hero!” and he put his arms around her automatically. But he’d really had it with this bawdy old slut and. He ran a hand over a breast the size of a cupcake, explored further, and, as she kissed him eagerly, knew he held a smaller, different woman in his arms!
As he drew his lips from hers he asked, “Joselita?” and the teenager laughed and asked, “Who did you think it was, my mother?”
“Uh, I didn’t know who you were. I’m still half asleep. But where is your mother, Joselita? And, more important, does she know what you are up to?”
Joselita snuggled closer and said, “Don’t worry. She’ll never suspect. She is getting very drunk at la fiesta and she thinks I am a virgin.”
“I can see how an idea like that might get around. Your brother said you’d offered to kill yourself before you’d get in bed like this with a man.”
“Pooh, those brutes who made us pay for drinking water were not nice. I never give myself to a man who is not nice. But you are most nice and—” Her fingers curled around the new dawn of his erection and she purred, “Oh, you are nice indeed!”
He rolled her over and got in the saddle. The thinner and firmer thighs hugging his hips added spice to his renewed appetite and there was just enough difference between mother and daughter’s internal plumbing to drive him to a fresh desire. He got a hand under each of Joselita’s little buttocks and pulled her on like a boot as she hissed in pleasure. She was small every way and he hit bottom. He asked, “Does that hurt?” and she answered by screwing her cervix around the tip of his shaft as she moaned, “No. I love it.”
She apparently did. And, unlike her mother, twice wasn’t enough.
Chapter Twelve
The next thing that woke Captain Gringo up was a rooster bitching about the approaching dawn. It was getting light outside and as he sat up and looked around, he saw both mother and daughter in the other beds. They had their eyes closed as he sat up to dress. Then Joselita opened her eyes, smiled roguishly, and put a shushing finger to her lips as she looked across the room at her sleeping mother. He nodded and started hauling on his boots and duds. As he stood up strapping on his gunbelt, the mother opened her eyes and said, “Are you leaving, señor?”
He said, “We have to,” and she rolled out of bed, dressed in a linen nightgown, and insisted, “Let me fix you something for to eat. Joselita, dear. You remain as you are. You look tired. Did you have a good time last night?”
Joselita said, “Yes, Mother dear. It was most enjoyable.”
Captain Gringo was afraid to look either in the eye as he followed the mother around the corner to the kitchen el. As soon as they were out of Joselita’s sight, the mother kissed him and whispered in his ear, “I will miss you, muy toro, but we must not appear informal in front of the children, eh?”
“Mum’s the word.” He grinned. She nodded and began to whip him up a breakfast of tortillas and refried beans. As she worked he went back to get the Maxim gun. Joselita sat up, exposing little naked breasts, and beckoned him closer to whisper, “We cannot say adios properly. My mother would never understand. But I shall never forget you. Now go, before she suspects!”
He nodded, knowingly, picked up the Maxim, and lugged it around to the table to have breakfast while the mother made small talk that sounded like she was a landlady saying good-bye to a roomer that smoked in bed.
He bolted down the food, offered to pay her, and was relieved when she refused. He would have told her he owed her an apology, but Joselita would have heard. Despite Zurdo’s dismay at his mother’s heartlessness, she probably knew her daughter better than the brother did. He asked about the boy and the woman shrugged and said she didn’t know where he’d spent the night. He hefted the gun again, gave her a grinning feel in the doorway, and headed for the plaza, whistling.
The sun wasn’t up yet, but the sky was as light as a dove’s belly. He put the Maxim down by the well and had a smoke before he drew his pistol and fired one round in the air. Then he finished another smoke by the time men started straggling into the plaza, most of them wearing pleased albeit hung-over expressions.
Gaston came over, muttering dark curses about people obviously raised by milkmen. Then he said “I had a most interesting pillow conversation with a fat but passionate love maker, last night. It seems she overheard some members of that other gang as they were arguing. She says she was at this well when the leader was defending himself against the charge that he had possibly forfeited their promised reward by refusing to consider a place they called Punta Purgatorio.”
Captain Gringo reached for his map as he asked, “Did she know why they skipped it, or where it was r
“Mais non. Had you not been so enthusiastic about their extinction we could have asked. But all the fat woman remembers is that they passed the place but did not search it. Oh, she said they accused their leader of being frightened by something and she says he got most angry and started threatening to kill everyone in sight. That was when she picked up her water jar and ran.”
Captain Gringo unfolded the map and studied it in the growing light. He frowned and said, “Here it is. Punta Purgatorio. It’s a point of land running out to sea, about thirty miles down the coast. If these contour lines are accurate, it’s mostly high cliffs above the surf, with a big volcanic cone covering most of the peninsula.”
Gaston asked, “Do you see any likely pirate coves?”
The tall American shook his head and said, “No. There’s one fishing village at the mouth of a valley running into the sea to the north. The south shore is straight sea cliff with the surf breaking right against the base of the sheer wall. The fishing village occupies the only place you could land on that point. I don’t see what all the fuss could have been.”
“The Germans may have made friends with the people of the village, non? It would not take many German marks to buy a bit of silence from poor fisher folk.”
“A bit of silence? Sure. But Greystoke thinks the Germans are planning at least twenty years ahead. No money could buy a generation of dedicated co-conspiracy from simple peons. Those villagers are Costa Ricans, not patriotic Germans.”
Gaston nodded and said, “Twenty years would be a long time for a whole German village to keep a secret, paid off or not. Perhaps that is why those others didn’t bother to scout Punta Purgatorio, non? Why struggle over rough lava country on the chase of the wild goose?”
Captain Gringo put the map away and said, “We’d better check it out. At least we know it’s an area that hasn’t been scouted.”
He made a quick head count and added, “Where the hell is Collins? I wanted to make a few miles before the sun got hot again.”
Gaston shrugged and said, “Fire your pistol again. He must not have heard the first shot.”
Captain Gringo drew his .38 and fired. T.B. Jones flinched and protested, “Jesus, warn a guy, will you, Cap? My head’s still full of fumes and it sounded like that thing just went off inside it!”
&nbs
p; Captain Gringo ignored T.B. and told Gaston, “I noticed Collins has a drinker’s nose. What made you hire a guy who can’t handle his booze?”
Gaston sighed and said, “Collins is a good soldier, when he’s sober. He was once a master sergeant in your American Army.”
“Until he got cashiered for drinking on the job?”
“Merde, how was I to know you’d declare a holiday? I told you how hard it is to recruit an army in such an uninteresting country. I will go and search for Collins. After all, how far can he be, drunk or sober?”
“Stay here. I’m going to finish this smoke and then we’re moving out, with or without him. If he doesn’t show up he doesn’t show up. He’s either a worthless drunk who sleeps through gunfire, or he’s decided he’s found a home and he’s hiding with some señorita. He’s no good to us either way.”
T.B. Jones, closer than the others, had heard and asked, “Didn’t you say deserters will be punished, Cap?”
Captain Gringo nodded and said, “He will be, if he fails to show up muy pronto. Last night was a lot of laughs and the villagers were grateful. In a day or so a circuit-riding priest will show up to remind them they’re Spanish Catholics and he’ll be doing a land office business with confessions. Some of the men, here, will start brooding as they sober up and a lone gringo who doesn’t work with them in the fields and reminds them of how Lolita got laid won’t seem like such a hero after all.”
T.B. grimaced and said, “Jesus, I think you’re right, Cap. I see why you’re in such a hurry to get out of here!”
They still saw no sign of Collins, but the second shot had attracted attention and a few faces appeared at windows. The boy, Zurdo, came across the plaza with a charred rifle he’d dug from the rains of the burned-out stronghold. He smiled and said, “I wish for to go with you, Captain Gringo.”
The tall American said, “You’ll never go anywhere, if you try to fire that gun. The breech will blow up in your face, now that it’s lost its temper. Do you know the way to Punta Purgatorio?”
