Mercenary s-5

by Duncan Falconer

  In their cabin Stratton and Victor ate a meal by the light of a hurricane lamp and some candles. Victor was lost in thought and stared at one of the candle flames.

  He looked at Stratton, who also appeared to be deep in thought, and held the wine jug over the Englishman’s mug. Stratton did not react and Victor started to pour before realising that Stratton’s mug was still full. ‘You’re not drinking tonight?’ he asked.

  Stratton shook his head.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ Victor asked.

  Stratton did not say.

  ‘I think I know. You’re going home tomorrow, for sure this time.’

  ‘For sure.’

  ‘Maybe you’ll be lucky and something else will stop you.’ Victor inspected the palms of his hands. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  Stratton didn’t seem to care either way.

  ‘If you knew something . . . maybe I should say, if you strongly suspected something that no one else did, and you wanted to reveal it, but if you did it would mean risking ridicule, would you still say it or would you stay silent?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Stratton asked tiredly.

  ‘I know. It doesn’t make sense. But I can’t say anything without saying what I don’t want to say. Ah, forget it.’

  Stratton felt a twinge of guilt about not being of help to the Frenchman. ‘I suppose that would depend on how important it was.’

  ‘It’s very important. Life-threatening.’

  ‘Then why would you be ridiculed?’

  ‘Because people don’t take me seriously. Have you ever wondered why Sebastian made me his second in command? Everyone else does.’

  Stratton had too but didn’t want even to hint at it.

  ‘I was not Sebastian’s first second in command, nor even his second or third. Those men had all been soldiers, selected for their military skills as well as for their leadership. They were strong-minded men who had firm opinions about how things should be run. On occasion they would act on their own initiative, often to Sebastian’s consternation. He wanted to control everything himself. He came to see those strong-minded men as obstacles. When I arrived he must have decided I was perfect for him. I was educated, I had management skills and I didn’t know a damned thing about soldiering. I was also not very assertive. Oh, I can stand up for myself, but that’s not the same. I would not obstruct him. But I did begin to question things.’

  Victor took a long sip of his wine and went silent.

  ‘Do you have proof ?’ Stratton asked.

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘This thing you know, or suspect, that no one else does.’

  ‘Of course not. I would not be ridiculed if I could prove it.’

  ‘Is there proof ? Can you get any?’

  ‘There must be. But I don’t know how to get it.’

  ‘Can you influence a change?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Victor asked, showing interest in the suggestion.

  ‘I don’t know. Only you do. I’m trying to help you out, that’s all.’

  ‘No, no. That’s an interesting question,’ Victor said, looking thoughtful. And then just as quickly he lost confidence in himself. ‘But I don’t think I’m strong enough.’

  ‘In what way? Physically or mentally?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘I think you’re too hard on yourself.’

  ‘If that’s a way of saying I’m tougher than I think, thank you. But I know myself well enough.’

  ‘That’s what they all say. I’ve spent my entire adult life in wars and conflicts. They have a habit of chang - ing everything about a man. People either change to survive the violence, escape it, or they change to fight it. Maybe you weren’t the most perfect second in command when you took the job. But maybe you’re a lot more like those other guys now than you think.’

  Victor thought about this as he took another sip of wine. ‘And you, my friend. How have you changed?’

  Stratton shrugged.

  Victor smiled as if he knew something. ‘Have you ever been in love before?’

  Stratton didn’t want to hear that particular question. He reached for his mug of wine.

  ‘Come on. Why don’t you lower that wall just for once in your life?’

  Stratton held on to his mug and stared at the candle. ‘I thought I had been, until now. I would have run away the day I got here if I’d known it was going to be like this.’

  ‘Then you have not changed at all. Anyone can fall in love. The change for you would be holding on to it.’

  Stratton glanced at Victor, feeling the sting of the comment. He got up and went to the fire that burned vigorously in the grate. A large cauldron of steaming water hung on a chain above it. ‘You want this first?’ he asked, dipping a finger in it just long enough to discover it was hot.

  Victor emptied his mug and got to his feet. ‘I had a bath last week,’ he said, picking up his hat and jacket and walking to the door. ‘I will not be back tonight,’ he said, looking resolute about something. ‘If you can change, well, I can too.’ He opened the door and paused to look back at Stratton. ‘In case I don’t get a chance to say it later, it’s been an honour.’

  The two men held each other’s gazes for a moment. Victor stepped into the darkness and closed the door behind him. Stratton could only wonder what was on the Frenchman’s mind.

  A large metal bath hung from a nail on the wall. Stratton lifted it off and placed it in front of the fire.

  He wiped a finger around the inside to discover that it was coated in dust. ‘Which week was that, Victor?’ he asked softly.

  He rinsed out the bath with some cold water and set about emptying the cauldron into it.

  As Victor left the cabin he noticed the flames of the courtyard fire. Half a dozen armed rebels were gathered at the wooden table, talking, smoking and drinking coffee. The night had a distinct chill to it. All of the men wore jackets or woollen jumpers.

  Victor gave them a wave that was returned with more enthusiasm than he had noticed before. Those who had taken part in the Chemora attack had been elevated to heroic status. Victor could not help feeling inspired by the achievement as he headed towards the smaller cabin.

  He knocked on the door, which was opened a moment later by Louisa. ‘Victor. Come in,’ she said.

  Sebastian was at the table, finishing off a meal. ‘Good evening, Victor. To what do we owe the pleasure?’

  ‘I was wondering if I could have a brief word with you. Something has been on my mind and I have to discuss it.’

  ‘We cannot have things weighing heavily on minds if they can be lifted,’ Sebastian said.

  ‘I’m going for a walk,’ Louisa said. ‘Don’t wait up for me.’ She smiled a goodbye to her father and Victor and left the cabin.

  Victor faced Sebastian and took a deep breath as if to strengthen his resolve. ‘I’m troubled,’ he said. ‘It has to do with this assassination attempt.’

  Sebastian waited patiently.

  ‘The one person I least trust in all of this is Steel. At least we know Neravista. We know what he wants.’

  ‘We all know not to trust Steel.’

  ‘Yes, but we all have different ideas of how far to trust him. You trust him enough to let him into this camp, for instance. I do not. I would not be surprised if he had something to do with the attempt on your life.’

  ‘Where is your evidence?’

  ‘I don’t have any.’

  ‘Then this notion is a product of your imagination.’

  ‘That’s not all. I think Steel has allegiances to others - stronger than to us. I do not discount Hector’s involvement in this.’

  Sebastian’s gaze turned cold. ‘Please don’t try to manipulate me, Victor. I expect more from you.’

  ‘Do you?’ Sebastian did not miss the flash of new tough-mindedness in Victor’s tone. ‘I came here to give you my views. As second in command I think I am entitled to air them.’

  ‘If I wanted those kinds of views I w
ould have someone with a background in military intelligence as my adviser.’

  ‘It doesn’t take a soldier to see such things. Call it intuition if you want. I’m not a soldier but I have plenty of experience of life.’

  ‘And what do you propose we do about these intuitions?’

  Victor was not sure. He had not thought that part through thoroughly. ‘Perhaps we should be frank. Let’s confront Steel with our concerns and see what he says.’

  Sebastian looked suddenly irritated with Victor. ‘If you have no stomach for this fight any more then you are under no obligation to stay.’

  Victor was stunned by the comment. ‘After all that I have sacrificed, this is what you say to me, for expressing my opinion?’

  ‘I’ve been living by my wits my entire life. Things change, Victor. People change. Perhaps we no longer follow the same path.’

  Victor was furious. Frustration welled up in him. He felt as if he had been mortally wounded. ‘I have learned something about change tonight. And that is not to be afraid of it.’

  Sebastian did not react.Victor went to the door and left the cabin.

  He closed the door and stood in the darkness, the emotional wound stinging intensely. But instead of skulking away to drink himself to sleep he straightened his back and gritted his teeth. He was not going to let this one go. If he was at a crossroads with this revolution then it was time to do something other than what he had been doing.

  To keep out of sight Victor decided to take the back path between the cabins that led to the stables. When he got there he saddled his horse and led it out of the stall. As he climbed onto the animal’s back Yoinakuwa stepped from the shadows, startling him.

  ‘Will you stop doing that,’ Victor said, clutching at his chest. ‘One of these days you’re going to give me a heart attack.’

  Yoinakuwa looked him in the eye, his question plain enough.

  ‘I have to go somewhere,’ Victor said. ‘I will be fine on my own.’ Then he had an afterthought. ‘But if I am not back by morning you may find the answer in Hector’s camp.’

  Victor rode away into the darkness. Yoinakuwa watched him go.

  Chapter 7

  Stratton placed his clothes over the back of a chair, stepped into the metal bath and lowered himself gingerly into the hot water. He immersed himself gradually, sliding down until the liquid was up to his neck, taking a moment to get used to the heat before sinking beneath the surface.

  He held his breath, relishing the sensation of the hot water all around him. As he resurfaced slowly and opened his eyes the door of the cabin opened. His gaze flicked to his pistol a foot away on the chair and he moved his hand towards it.

  Louisa stepped in stealthily and closed the door behind her quietly, keeping her back to it as she looked around the room.

  When she saw Stratton lying in the tub looking at her she broke into a giggle. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said in a soft voice. ‘I didn’t knock because I didn’t want the guards to see me.’

  ‘Did they?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Some guards.’

  ‘They’re not meant for you.’

  ‘I’m not worth protecting any more?’

  ‘You don’t need protecting. Anyone with any sense would be afraid to come in here.’

  ‘You’re here.’

  ‘There’s nothing in here that I’m afraid of.’

  Stratton smiled at the innuendo.

  ‘Can I lock the door?’

  He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  Louisa ignored him and drew the bolt across. ‘How’s your back?’ she asked, walking over to him.

  ‘I neglected to change the dressing. I’ve been a terrible nurse.’

  ‘I understood that was because you’d moved on from nursing.’

  ‘We have to win the revolution first. Let me see it,’ she asked, walking behind him.

  Stratton leaned forward in the tub as she crouched down. He felt her fingers on his back, touching him gently. Then her palms spread out and covered an area much larger than the wound. ‘You heal well,’ she said as she dipped a hand in the water. ‘You like your bath hot.’

  ‘Not usually. But it’s been a while.’

  ‘Can I wash your back for you?’

  ‘You’re very kind.’

  Louisa was about to pick up the large slab of brown soap on the chair next to his pistol. Then she gave it a dismissive look. ‘You can’t wash your skin with laundry soap,’ she said. ‘There’s a box of shampoos and gels somewhere.’ She stood up and walked away.

  Stratton listened to her rummaging through some boxes.

  ‘Victor looked disturbed tonight,’ she said.

  ‘He seems to have a lot on his mind.’

  ‘Did he tell you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘He’s having a private talk with my father, just the two of them. That’s unusual for him. The ambush has changed him - made him more daring, perhaps.’

  The sounds of Louisa searching through the boxes ceased and Stratton waited for the sound of her boots on the floor as she came back. But there was nothing other than the crackling noise of the fire. He heard a soft sound close by and remained still, wondering what she was doing.

  He looked down to see her bare foot dipping into the water.The other followed and she lowered her naked body into the tub behind him, stretching her legs out either side of him. She held his lower back tightly between her thighs.

  Gently, she took hold of his shoulders and guided him until his back was resting against her breasts. She placed a hand on his forehead and pressed his head back until it was nestling on her shoulder. Then she laid her cheek against his.

  ‘That was pretty sneaky,’ Stratton said.

  ‘It’s called strategy. It’s not just used in war, you know. I was told that you can use it in anything. Even love.’

  ‘That’s a wise teacher you have there.’

  ‘Well, he knows his stuff on the battlefield. I don’t know what else he might be good at, though.’

  It was the most delicious gauntlet that had ever been thrown down before him, Stratton thought.

  ‘There’s something I have to ask you,’ Louisa said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Did your grandmother really want to be a Gurkha?’ she smiled.

  ‘No. Of course not. Not after three years in the Foreign Legion.’

  ‘Idiot.’

  ‘I don’t blame her, really.’

  ‘Stop it,’ she laughed.

  They lay in silence, bathed in the orange glow from the fire, both of them staring at it and lost in their thoughts.

  Finally Louisa spoke. ‘Let’s not talk about anything beyond this moment. No futures. No dreams.’

  ‘I can’t control my thoughts,’ Stratton said.

  She kissed his cheek. ‘Maybe I can, for a little while.’ He turned his head to look into her eyes and their lips met softly. He reached an arm behind her waist and lifted her around to sit on him. Their kisses grew more passionate, more urgent.

  The entrance to Hector’s camp looked more threaten - ing than Sebastian’s. A tree-trunk wall filled the long gap between two rocky outcrops. It had an immense gate in the middle with a smaller entrance to one side. As Victor approached, looking as haggard as his horse, he saw two earth-and-sandbag machine-gun emplacements, with others on top of the rocky hillocks. Half a dozen heavily armed guards stood outside. One of them recognised Victor and sent a runner to deliver his message to Hector.

  He climbed down and tried to ease his aching back and hips. He had never ridden a horse before joining the rebellion and after his first ride he’d realised that his body had long since grown inflexible and would never adapt to sitting astride anything so wide for long periods of time. He had barely recovered from the ride to and from the ambush and within a few minutes of his journey to Hector’s camp all the same aches and pains had returned twofold.

  Victor waited for half an hour before someone arrived to esc
ort him inside. He had never been to Hector’s encampment before. The five rebel fortresses were spread in a wide semicircle over several interconnected plateaus, the strategic intention being that they could support each other if they were attacked by Neravistas.

  The layout of the camp was difficult to make out in the darkness but it seemed better designed to withstand attack than Sebastian’s. Now that Victor was inside the perimeter he felt nervous and uncomfortable. The rebels he passed seemed to eye him suspiciously and not just because he was an outsider. Their looks felt almost accusatory. Victor wondered if Sebastian was right and that he had developed an overactive imagination that verged on paranoia.

  The guide showed him to a large cabin, bigger than Sebastian’s original quarters. He tied off his horse and looked around him. A group of armed men were gathered around a table illuminated by hurricane lamps. They watched him silently, their guns within easy reach. He was tempted to wave but decided against it. They looked a surly crew.

  The guide pointed Victor towards the front door of the cabin but did not go near it himself. Victor felt a sudden chill, not in the air but more like a warning from his heart. He told himself to calm down as he removed his hat, marched to the door and opened it.

  Hector sat alone inside the comfortably furnished room, reading a document by the light from an elegant candelabrum. A small fire was burning in the grate.

  He glanced at Victor before going back to his document. ‘I thought they were mistaken when they told me you were here. Somehow I don’t believe Sebastian sent you.’

  ‘He did not.’

  ‘Of course. Why would he?’ Hector said sarcastically. ‘I don’t even understand what you’re doing in this revolution, never mind second in command to a brigade. If there was ever an example of Sebastian’s poor judgement it’s you.’

  Victor clenched his jaw and absorbed the abuse. ‘I know you’re angry with me, Hector. Perhaps you have every reason to be. I—’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Hector interrupted rudely. ‘I threatened your life the other day, yet here you are, alone in my camp.’ He made a sudden pantomime of looking around. ‘Maybe you have your Indians hidden somewhere,’ he said, his sarcasm undiminished. ‘Or perhaps you’re feeling heroic after blowing up Chemora.’