The Badlands Brigade (A Captain Gringo Adventure Book 12)

by Lou Cameron

  The waiter came out to see how they were doing, saw they all had half-filled glasses, and went back inside. Captain Gringo grimaced and said, “We’re going to wear out our welcome here, too. It’s getting late, even for a bananaland town. Are you up to scouting the railroad depot, Gaston?”

  “Merde alors, if they are liable to look for you at the hotel they will be even more likely to be watching the railroad, my old and rare! The most annoying thing about the Costa Rican police is that they are unpleasantly professional, for this part of the world. They pay their detectives a living wage, hein?”

  “Yeah, you’d be able to spot the usual uniformed set, but how do you tell a fellow traveler from a plainclothesman?”

  “You don’t. La senorita, here, told me on the way over that she has no friends here in San Jose for the two of you to hide out with, hem?”

  Captain Gringo nodded and said, “It gets worse. She’s on the lam, too. I sort of rescued her from peonage and any minute the folks who think they own her are going to be reporting her missing.”

  Gaston made a wry face and sighed, “This shit of the bull Protestant ethic is trés fatigue, Dick. Most men, having murdered one man in a given evening, would have, how you say, quit while they were ahead?”

  “Damn it, I never murdered anybody, Gaston. I was suckered into a fight I wasn’t looking for!”

  Gaston blew smoke out his nose and said, “Let’s not quibble over the terminology, hein? The point is that you killed one local officer and then, no doubt feeling lucky, you stole this sweet young thing from her rightful owners.”

  “Bullshit. Nobody owns Golondrina.”

  Golondrina cuddled closer to him and purred, “You are wrong, querido mio. You own me, now.”

  Gaston looked disgusted as he said, “Merde alors, another quibbler! I am not interested in the rights or wrongs of Costa Rican law right now. I have no desire to discuss them here, either. Obviously, since the two of you have hurled eggs into the fan, we must study on a discreet vacation of these premises. The trains to either coast are not what I would call discreet. But cheer up, my children, I, Gaston, have a plan.”

  Captain Gringo said, “I was afraid you might. Let’s hear it.”

  Gaston took a sip of cerveza and said, “I was talking with this fellow rogue in a cantina this afternoon. He told me they are hiring guns for some operation up the mosquito coast. Honduras, I believe. I was not paying much attention, since it sounded a bit wild, even for us, but...”

  “What’s going on in Honduras,” Captain Gringo cut in, “and, more important, what difference does it make? We’ve got to get out of Costa Rica. It doesn’t matter where we go afterward, right?”

  “Wrong. You must not have been paying attention to that last batch of reward posters I stole from the post office the other day, hein? We are loved and cared for more than one likes to dwell on in every country near enough to matter, with the possible exception of Honduras. I haven’t shot anyone in Honduras for some time and I don’t remember you ever shooting anyone there, hein?”

  Captain Gringo grimaced and said, “That’s true. Mainly because there’s hardly anybody there for anyone to shoot. Honduras is the most thinly populated country down here, according to my last look at an atlas.”

  “Oui, no doubt that is why the faction we are discussing is forced to recruit guns far afield, non? The rogue I was talking to said they are paying the going rates for hired guns, and as for machinegunners, ooh la la”

  The waiter appeared in the doorway to give them the fish eye. Captain Gringo said, “Stop putting the cart before the horse, Gaston. Before we could even consider signing up with this Honduran rebel outfit of yours we have to get the hell out of this country.”

  Gaston said, “That is what I was coming to. The people who want to hire skilled military types are not rebels. It’s the Honduran government itself.”

  “How come? Don’t they already have an army?”

  “Oui, a very ordinary one, it would seem. They keep losing, and, since they find this trés fatigue as anyone else would, they have decided to hire some outside contractors to do it right.”

  Captain Gringo frowned and said, “I don’t remember reading anything about Honduras being at war with anyone. Come to think of it, I don’t remember reading anything about Honduras at all.”

  “Oui, both sides have been, how you say, shoving it under the lid? At any rate, the point I am trying to make is that if he sign on as Honduran officers, here in Costa Rica at their embassy—”

  “Gotcha!” Captain Gringo cut in, adding, “We’d be traveling under new I.D. as well as diplomatic immunity! But get to the fly in the ointment. You said you thought it sounded too wild for us to consider. I must have missed something. Signing on as professionals with a legitimate army seems a lot less hairy than some of the deals we’ve gotten into lately.”

  Gaston took a hasty sip of cerveza before he nodded and said, “Oui, if we sign on we get our commissions and front money immediately. I was told the Honduran embassy will be staying open twenty-four hours a day during the emergency, so we could go there directly from here. With new I.D.s showing us to be officers of a friendly country, we could no doubt check into another hotel unmolested until the ship for Honduras leaves. By this time the police will have checked all the hotels in town if they are after you. Even if they double check, they should hardly suspect a Honduran officer who obviously just arrived late this evening. If you still don’t like those odds, no doubt the embassy could arrange a safe haven if we how you say leveled with them, hein?”

  “I said I saw the advantages, Gaston. What’s the part I’m not going to like?”

  “Attend me, my children. The Hondurans don’t care about a sordid little domestic tragedy in Costa Rica and they are most desperate for officers. If I explain the problem delicately to the rogue who’s recruiting for them I am sure they’ll cover things up for you, hein?”

  “Damn it, Gaston, you’re avoiding the fun part. Who the hell are we supposed to fight for Honduras?”

  Gaston sighed and answered, bleakly, “The British. It’s a border dispute between Honduras and British Honduras.”

  Captain Gringo stared incredulously at Gaston as he asked. “The shitty little country of Honduras is taking on the British Empire?”

  “Oui, that is why they are paying so well.”

  Captain Gringo snorted in disgust and said, “You were right the first time. It’s not just wild. It’s suicidal. A guy would have to be nuts to go up against British regulars with... what the hell do the Hondurans use for soldiers, anyway?”

  “The usual peon children seeking adventure, or perhaps a pardoned criminal or two. My friend, the rogue, says they are willing to pay officers the going rates, but very few banana republics recruit their ground forces from among the cream of their youth, hein?”

  The waiter came out again and pointedly took out his watch to study it with a dramatic sigh. Captain Gringo held up three fingers and the waiter shook his head and said, “I am sorry, senores y senorita, but we wish to close for the night.”

  Captain Gringo shrugged and said, “We’ll just finish these drinks then,” and the waiter went back inside with a loud anguished sigh. Gaston said, “We have to make up our collective mind, Dick. I agree the job is not to my delicate taste, but you should have thought of that before you started dropping Costa Ricans like flies this evening. It’s not as if we have had no experience with fighting the British, you know. Remember the time we beat off that landing force down in Venezuela?”

  ‘That was different—we were calling a bluff both sides knew was a bluff and the guys we were fighting alongside were U.S. Marines, remember?”

  “Oui, and most ungrateful they were, now that I think about it. When they discovered you were not the U.S. Army officer you said you were, but another officer, your unpleasant War Department has on its wanted list—”

  “Never mind ancient history,” Captain Gringo cut in. “The point is that even backed by U.S
. Marines and the Monroe Doctrine, we had us one hell of a time stopping that British landing force. Taking the Brits on in a no-kidding war could be dangerous to one’s health.”

  ‘True. But they told me Honduras has modern weapons, including plenty of Maxim machineguns and some French 75s, Dick.”

  “Queen Victoria has the latest in weaponry, too. More important, she has trained troops who know how to use them. Haven’t you been reading the newspapers this century, Gaston? The goddamn Brits have been fighting one damned colonial war after another since Queen Vickie lost her cherry! Their goddamn regulars are old pros. I doubt if there’s a non-com in the British army who hasn’t fought in at least a dozen campaigns. The sun never sets and all that bullshit. You want me to lead rag-tag peons against guys who’ve whipped Afghans, Zulus, Ghurkhas, and leave us not forget the Russians and you French?”

  Gaston shrugged and said, “I doubt if any veterans of Waterloo are still serving with the British army, and in any case, it’s not I who want you to fight them. It is Honduras, and if we pass on the deal, one can only hope you have a better idea to get us out of the mess you got us into, hein?”

  Golondrina put a hand on Captain Gringo’s sleeve- as she asked, “Could not we just run off into the jungle for to be banditos, Querido? I do not wish for the police to arrest you, now that we have found one another.”

  Captain Gringo grimaced and said, “Well, we can’t stay here and we can’t go back to our hotel. You say we get our commissions and front money as soon as we sign up, Gaston?”

  “Oui. I am ahead of you, Dick. I agree that righting the British for any amount of money sounds trés fatigue. So naturally we can cross them double once they get us out of this thrice accursed country, hein?”

  Gaston was ahead of Captain Gringo indeed, for the tall American hadn’t thought about it that way. But then he grinned and said, “Hey, what are we arguing about? Let’s eat this apple one bite at a time. We’ll join up here and desert there, right?”

  Gaston laughed and said, “But of course. I am so relieved to see you are recovering from the idealistic streak you had when we first started working together. One can only go along with the so-called code of the officer and gentleman to a certain point before it becomes a needless burden if not a positive menace to one’s existence.”

  Captain Gringo smiled, bitterly, and said, “I used to be an officer and a gentleman, but that was before the U.S. and a mess of other armies taught me it was a sucker’s game. Let’s go double-cross our newfound comrades-in-arms before the waiter calls the law.”

  ~*~

  The first double-cross, naturally, was pulled by the Honduran Army. Apparently they’d recruited soldiers of fortune before, so a very polite but very firm lieutenant colonel at the Honduran embassy told them the man who’d made the offer to Gaston had overstated the terms a bit in his enthusiasm. The short colonel had heard of both Captain Gringo and Gaston and was delighted to sign them up and commission them both as officers of a heavy weapons company. He said Gaston could be a first lieutenant and Captain Gringo could be CO with captain’s rank, pay, and privileges, including the right to have his adelita, Golondrina, on the books as a “company laundress.” He said their coastal steamer would be leaving the Costa Rican port of Limon in two days and that they’d have first class staterooms to Puerto Cortes. But he also said they had to be joking about any advance on their combat pay. He added, “Meaning no disrespect, senores, our armed forces may be understaffed, but we like to run them professionally. No army in the world pays its soldiers in advance. As soon as you gentlemen join the heavy weapons company assigned to you, you will, of course, be put on the pay book. We pay at the end of each month, like everyone else.”

  Captain Gringo frowned down at the older man on the more imposing side of the desk as he asked, “Don’t you mean if we’re still alive to collect? I have my adelita here to consider. What if something should happen to me swapping lead with the Brits?”

  The short colonel shot an admiring glance at the peon girl sitting in the background as he shrugged and said, “Honduras pays widows pensions to Honduran citizens married to Honduran officers or enlisted men, of course.”

  “You mean adelitas are out of luck?”

  “I don’t make the conditions of our sometimes dangerous trade, Captain Gringo. Frankly, even if you and your, ah, laundress were married, I doubt my government would see fit to pay her a pension. You are a no doubt admirable person as well as a notoriously good machinegunner. But since neither of you are Hondurans ...”

  “Gotcha,” Captain Gringo cut in, adding, “Okay, assuming my adelita’s willing to take her chances, what’s the score on the uniforms, battle kit and other expenses a commissioned officer is supposed to pay for himself?”

  The Honduran shrugged and said, “That is unfortunately your problem. I pay my expenses, you know.”

  “Yeah, but you got paid last month.”

  “Of course, and for many months before. I am “regular army.” Am I to understand the two of you have come to join up, how you say, flat broke?”

  “Whether we have funds or not is not the point,” Gaston cut in to protest. “Colonel. It seems hardly just for you to expect us to use our own money to buy officer’s uniforms and kit before we have even seen the color of your army’s money!”

  The Honduran officer smiled thinly and replied, “If you two wish to sign up as a couple of enlisted gunnery sergeants, your uniforms, and board would of course be provided gratis.”

  Captain Gringo shook his head and said, “No thanks. We liked it better the other way. I’d better level with you, Colonel. We have good reasons for wanting to get out of Costa Rica and we’ve got a few bucks to last us until payday, But is there any way you could get us to that ship sort of sudden and, uh, unseen?”

  The short colonel raised an eyebrow and said, “Your steamer has not arrived in Limon, yet. So naturally you cannot board her, unseen or otherwise. What sort of trouble are you in with the law, here in Costa Rica?”

  The two soldiers of fortune exchanged glances. Then Gaston laughed and said, “Eh bien, if M’sieur le colonel knows who we are, one must assume he’s a man of the world to be dealing with us, hein? My impetuous young friend, here, seems to have been overzealous in dealing with a jealous husband. It was self-defense, of course.”

  The short colonel grimaced and said, “Of course. These things will happen when one is young and impetuous. I thought you might be in serious trouble! There is a hotel here in San Jose frequented by Honduran diplomats as well as others of the diplomatic corps. Since diplomats are neither better nor worse than other men when it comes to the pleasures of life, the local police have given up the usual nit picking, as a waste of their time as well as an annoyance to official guests of Costa Rica. I shall make a phone call while your commissions are being typed. You will not be molested there as long as you don’t do anything as silly as that German diplomat who threw his male lover out the window for some reason or other a while back. The police never raid the hotel for ordinary indiscretions that can’t be heard on the street out front.”

  So Captain Gringo and Gaston told the short colonel they had a deal. Nobody asked Golondrina what she thought about going off to war. Adelitas had nothing to say about wars. They were simply a fringe benefit that went with soldiering down here. Soldering in Latin America was a lot more fun than Captain Gringo remembered from the old Tenth Cav back home. The only trouble was that it could be a lot more dangerous, too.

  Leading trained troops against Apache had to make more sense than going up against a British Colonial Army with green peon enlisted men and officers recruited from the ranks of drifters and outlaws calling themselves soldiers of fortune in these parts. But what the hell—if the three of them cut out as soon as they got to Honduras, what did it matter?

  They got to the hotel a little after midnight. You could tell somebody was throwing a wild party to an upper floor, and as the bellhop let Captain Gringo and Golondrina into their
reserved room and bath, a woman screamed and someone rolled what sounded like a bowling ball down the hallway of the floor above. Captain Gringo smiled quizzically at the bellhop as he handed him his tip and the bellhop said, “British Legation, senor. I believe it is the queen’s birthday and they are very happy about it.”

  Captain Gringo closed the door after him with a frown. He wasn’t worried about the noise. Nobody checking into a room with a four poster bed and a dish like Golondrina figured on getting much sleep in any case. The pretty little mestiza was already peeling off the new clothes he’d bought her as she bounced on the bed experimentally, prattling on about what a luxurious place the rather ordinary hotel room was. What bothered him was the nationality of the merry-makers upstairs. He muttered, “Strike two,” as he tossed his hat aside and took off his jacket. Golondrina had beaten him undressing and as she waited, stark naked and even better than he expected with the overhead light shining down on her tawny little body, she peered up at him with a puzzled smile and asked what he meant, adding, “Have I done something bad, querido mio?”

  “Not yet, he said, smiling down at her reassuringly, “but I’ll teach you all my wicked ways. I’m not having second thoughts about you, Querida. But it sure seems funny that the Hondurans checked us into the same hotel as the British legation if they’re having a war with them at the moment.”

  “Oh, that is the strike two, no?”

  “Yeah, the first strike is on the map. Honduras and British Honduras don’t have a border to fight over. There’s a sliver of Guatemala wedged between Honduras and the British colony to the north!”

  Golondrina lay back, arms up with her hands behind her head to raise her firm brown breasts invitingly as she said, “I know nothing of geography, querido mio, but there must be some mistake, no? That nice colonel at the embassy said we were off for to defend the border of Honduras against the British.”

  “I know what he said, and I didn’t think he was all that nice.”