‘And you think that’s good news?’ Scouse said, casting a baleful glance towards the ridge they would have to cross to reach it.
‘Yep, because although we’ll have to be up at an altitude all the way - and it is never going to be less than two thousand metres and will often be a lot higher than that - there are two very good things about it. One is that the valley extends virtually right the way through the mountains, leaving only a low ridge to cross at the far end before we’re back on the Altiplano again. The second is that there is an ancient, high level Inca trail running in the same direction that we need to be travelling. It’s part of the network that once connected Cusco and Machu Picchu to all parts of the Inca empire, and the Incas were definitely not jerry-builders. So I’m sure it will be solidly constructed, supported by stone walls where needed, and have a decent surface. Best of all, from the map it appears to be pretty much level going, following the contours of the mountainside, just like we’ve been doing. So once we get up on it, we should be able to make a pretty fast pace.’
‘But if it’s a National Park, isn’t there a risk that there’ll be hordes of tourists on the trail?’
‘Not at this time of year,’ said Harper. ‘Even if there are, that’s not necessarily a handicap because the presence of tourists may make the sicarios more cautious.’ He paused. ‘So that’s the good news. The bad news is we have to find a way to cross the river and the road in the bottom of this valley before we can even think about getting over to the next one.’
He looked down at the map again, making sure of his facts. ‘Okay.’ He tapped a spot on the map with his finger. ‘See here, there are two tributary streams feeding into the river along this stretch of it. Both of them must pass under the road through culverts. So we need to get within sight of them so we can evaluate which offers the line of least resistance and the best cover to hide us from the sicarios’ patrols and look-outs. Then we can crawl along the bed of the stream through the culvert. We’ll get soaked of course, but we’re going to get wet crossing the river anyway. Once through there-’ His finger traced a line on the map. ‘We can move upriver, using both the river-bank and the surrounding vegetation for cover, and then cross the river somewhere about here, either wading or swimming it, depending on how deep it is.’
‘What if it’s too fast-flowing?’
Harper shrugged. ‘From the contour lines on the map, there may very well be some rapids here and here.’ He moved his finger across the map, tracing the river’s course. ‘But on this section the contour lines are much more spread out and the river bed looks broader, so with luck, that’ll give us a chance to cross. All right, silent running from here on in. Any noise or sudden movement could be enough to give us away.’
As they descended from the ridge towards the valley floor, Harper moved much more slowly and every fifty yards or so, he would hold up a hand to signal Scouse to wait and then scanned the next part of their route for any signs of danger. He expected that the sicarios’ main efforts would be devoted to watching the road, not the river, but it was unwise to put too much trust in assumptions, however well-founded.
Harper made Scouse wait just inside a copse of scrubby pine trees at the foot of the mountain, while he dropped and belly crawled forward until he reached the edge of a bluff that overlooked the river. To his left he could see one of the streams he had spotted, cascading down from the mountain and flowing into a stone-lined culvert under the road. However there was a wide stretch of open ground to either side of it, unbroken by any bush or tree, and it would be in full sight of anyone passing along the road. He frowned, retraced his steps and they moved on, further up river, hoping that the second culvert would be more viable.
Once more Harper left Scouse in cover while he evaluated it. The banks of this stream were flanked by fallen rocks, bushes and long grasses, offering excellent cover, but as he looked at the culvert, Harper could see that the stream was in spate and the water was almost filling it as it surged through, leaving only a narrow gap at the top of the culvert.
He moved back to where he had left Scouse and outlined his plan. ‘It’s going to be a very tight squeeze through there,’ he said, ‘because the stream is filling about three-quarters of the culvert and there’s only a small gap above the water. However, the approach to it is in good cover so it’s going to be the best option.’
‘What if it’s blocked in the middle?’ Scouse said.
‘If it was, the water would be backing up on this side. It isn’t and seems to be flowing through the culvert pretty quickly, so I’d say it’s going to be fine. However we don’t want to get our clothes wet if we can avoid it. So when we get right up to the culvert, so we’re out of sight underneath the edge of the road, you need to strip down to your undies, roll your clothes up into a ball and knot the sleeves of your shirt over it to hold everything in place. Then hold it on top of your head with one hand, and use the other to keep you upright as you crawl through the culvert and with luck, your clothes will still be dry when you get to the other side. Then you can rub yourself down and put them back on, whereas if they get wet, it’s going to be very hard for you to get warm again.’
Scouse’s expression showed how much enthusiasm he had at the prospect of that.
‘It’s that or we don’t get out of here at all,’ Harper said. ‘Besides you’ve still got a bit of that prison aroma about you, so a cold bath won’t do you any harm.’
‘Very funny,’ Scouse said. ‘Well, if we’re going to do it, let’s get on with it then.’
‘Spoken like a man after my own heart,’ Harper said and led the way down to the stream. Scouse lay flat and wormed his way alongside the stream, using the grasses and bushes to hide himself from anyone looking down from the road. Colt in hand, Harper kept watch, his eyes ranging up and down the road until Scouse had made it to the entrance to the culvert. Harper followed him there and they stripped off in the lee of the roadway a few feet above them and tied their clothes in bundles. With a last look towards the road to check for any movement, Harper slipped into the water and, balancing his bundle of clothes on his head, he crawled into the culvert on his knees, feeling reassured that he could already see the glow of green light at the other end. The water was so cold it felt like needles on his skin and though he only had to cover a few yards, he was glad it was no further.
Halfway across his thighs bumped against a branch that had become wedged in the culvert. It was too high to climb over and though he could have swum past it, his clothes would then have been soaked. So, still clutching the bundle on his head with one hand, he reached down with his right hand and began trying to free the branch. It barely moved at first, wedged in place by other debris that had become lodged against it, but as he worked it to and fro, it gradually loosened and at last came free, and with a gurgle of water, it flowed away through the end of the culvert. Feeling the cold really biting into him now, Harper followed in its wake and hauled himself out on to the bank of the stream just beyond the end of the culvert. Trying to avoid making any noise, he untied his bundle again, used his shirt to rub himself down and then began to put his clothes back on.
He had just finished getting dressed when Scouse appeared out of the culvert. Harper helped him drag himself out of the water and then rubbed him down hard because Scouse was shivering and his teeth were chattering. He got dressed again and they moved on at once, crawling away from the road until they reached the river bank and then working their way upstream, always keeping a wary eye on the road running parallel to them.
As Harper had hoped, after passing two sections of rapids where the river narrowed and churned angrily among the jagged rocks, they came to a section where it broadened again and flowed more quietly. Beyond that they could see a group of buildings close to the river. ‘We can’t get past them, can we?’ Scouse said. ‘So it looks like it’s going to have to be here or nowhere.’
Harper nodded, but he could feel his skin prickling and had an uneasy sense of something wrong. ‘Bu
t let’s not rush into it. The road is very close to the river here and I’ve got a bit of a bad feeling about this.’
‘The famous Lex Harper instinct?’
‘If you like, but if I’d listened to it when I saw those Landcruisers pass us as we were waiting to head out to the landing strip this morning, we’d be in a lot safer place now. Wait here.’
Harper slipped away from the river bank and began creeping through the undergrowth and then flattening himself to worm his way through a patch of dry grasses. He stopped at the bottom of the sloping embankment a few feet beneath the level of the road and listened intently, then crawled up it, pausing at each move to listen. He reached the edge of the sparsely grassed verge at the edge of the road, moved forward a couple more inches, then raised his head slightly and peered down the road. There was nothing to be seen.
He had started to relax slightly as he turned his head the other way, then froze as he realised that, not ten yards from him, a figure was sitting on the guard rail at the side of the road where it took a sharp bend. Had he been looking Harper’s way he could not have failed to see him, but luckily the man’s gaze was fixed on the road and the riverbank in the other direction. The fact that he was cradling a rifle in his arms, left little doubt that he was one of the sicarios, left there to keep watch for any sign of the fugitive gringos.
Heart in mouth, Harper eased himself backwards a millimetre at a time and then slid back down the embankment, until he was out of sight. For once his heart rate - normally almost unchanging whatever the stress - was beating out a tattoo as he took a deep breath and considered his options. They could look for another place to cross but they might not find one and anyway, the longer they spent near the road and the river, the greater were their chances of being discovered. Failing that, they could try to wade the river, praying that the sicario would continue to stare in another direction and not see them escaping from under his nose, but that would have required a degree of optimism or stupidity that Harper did not possess.
The only other option was for him to take out the sicario and then put enough distance between themselves and that place before his body, or his absence, were discovered. Since Harper could not be sure that there were no other men keeping watch within earshot, he could not use his Colt to shoot him and so would have to get close enough to do the job silently, without the sicario seeing him coming. He thought for a few more moments, then signalled to Scouse to stay where he was and inched his way along the edge of the embankment until he could see the top of the guardrail and the back of the man’s head. He was still sitting there looking away from him down the road.
Harper began to scale the embankment, measuring the placement of each foot and hand, and pausing to gently brush away with his fingers any twigs or dry leaves that might make a noise and give him away, before lowering his hand to the ground and then repeating the process with the other one. He paused at the top of the embankment only long enough to ease the Colt from his waistband and then, grasping it by the barrel and praying that the man had not taken the safety catch off his rifle, which might have caused it to go off if it was dropped and bring the rest of the cartel’s thugs running, Harper rose silently to his feet.
He covered the distance between himself and the sicario in two strides, and smashed the butt of the pistol down on to the man’s skull. He brought it down with such force that the plastic covering the metal frame of the butt split in two, but it did even greater damage to the sicario. The butt of the gun punched right through his skull, sinking an inch into his brain. He went into spasm, his heels drumming on the road surface, but Harper made sure, battering him again with the gun-butt. He then grabbed him by the shoulders as he slumped, stone dead, and pulled him back over the crash barrier and sent him tumbling down the embankment.
The man’s rifle slipped from his hands and fell into the river, and after a swift glance up and down the road to make sure he had not been observed, Harper slid back down the embankment after him. He crouched alongside the body and went through his pockets, finding a half-eaten chocolate bar in one of them but nothing else that was useful. He took the chocolate bar but ignored the billfold with a few Bolivianos in it. He stood up, looking and listening intently for a few moments, then lifted the sicario’s body and threw it into the water after his rifle.
The body drifted out into the river, but was then caught in an eddy for a few moments, circling slowly and Harper was about to strip off and plunge in to push it into deeper water when the current at last caught it and it was carried away downstream.
Harper ran back to where Scouse was waiting and first divided the chocolate bar between them, giving most of it to Scouse. ‘Eat that,’ he said, ‘it’ll give you a little energy boost, and then we need to get moving before anyone finds that guy or realises he’s gone missing. We don’t have time to do counter-surveillance up and down the river bank to make sure they haven’t posted anyone else to keep watch on this stretch, so we’ll just have to chance it on the river crossing. Right, we need to strip off again. If you like, I’ll carry your bundle of clothes as well as mine this time and then you can wait till I’m over and just swim across after me.’
‘Great idea, Lex,’ Scouse said. ‘Just one problem: I can’t swim.’
‘Then you’d best get wading and hope it isn’t too deep in the middle. Don’t worry,’ he said, as he saw the panic in Scouse’s eyes. ‘I haven’t got any water-wings, I’m afraid, but I’ll wade alongside you and help you if you get out of your depth. But if you slip and go under, for fuck’s sake don’t panic and start thrashing around or you’ll probably drown and even worse than that, my clothes’ll get wet.’
‘You’re all heart, Lex, you know that?’ Scouse said, trying and failing to smile.
Before he stripped off, Harper went to the water’s edge and swept both banks of the river with his gaze, trying to look through the foliage rather than at it, searching for an outline or unexpected shape behind it that might give away the presence of an enemy.
‘It looks clear,’ he said eventually, ‘but the only way to be sure is to get in the river and find out. Let’s go.’
He stripped off his clothes and wrapped the Colt inside the bundle. Then, picking up Scouse’s bundle as well, he carried them on his head as he walked down to the water’s edge, waiting for Scouse to join him before stepping into the water. ‘You’d better go on the upstream side, Scouse, and then if you fall, I can catch you as the current sweeps you past me.’
Scouse was now past speaking, staring at the river with the expression of a man who was expecting to find it infested with crocodiles or piranhas, but he edged into the water after Harper. The rocks and pebbles were slimy and slippery underfoot and after the crawl through the freezing culvert, the temperature of the water was an even icier shock to the system. They moved slowly out towards the middle of the river while the water rose up to their chests and then their necks. ‘Relax,’ Harper said, seeing Scouse’s wide-eyed look. ‘We’re in the middle now, it’s not going to get any worse.’
The words were barely out of his mouth, when Scouse took another step forward, lost his footing in a hollow in the river bed and disappeared beneath the surface. He came up again, coughing and gasping, his arms flailing and panic etched on his face.
Still trying to keep a grip on the bundles of clothes on his head with one hand, Harper grabbed Scouse by the only thing he could get a grip on: his hair. ‘Stop panicking, and keep the bloody noise down,’ he said. ‘If there’s anyone within half a mile of here they’re going to hear you splashing around. I’m still standing on the river bed so if you calm down, move a little more towards me and put your feet down instead of kicking out in all directions, you’ll be able to stand up again.’
He waited until Scouse had stopped panicking before releasing his grip on his hair. ‘Right, take a couple of deep breaths and then let’s get out of this sodding river before we both freeze to death.’
Half-guiding and half-dragging Scouse behind him,
he struck out for the opposite bank and within a few strides, the water level had dropped back down to their chests and then their waists.
‘Sorry about that, Lex,’ Scouse said, when they were once more on dry land, rubbing themselves down and struggling back into their clothes. ‘I’m never good in water.’
Harper smiled despite himself. ‘They really broke the mould when they made you, Scouse, didn’t they? We’re trying to cross some of the most mountainous and unforgiving terrain on the planet, with virtually no food and not much water being pursued by a bunch of psychotic sicarios with the blood of hundreds of people on their hands, whose only thought is to torture and kill us, and yet you’re worried about drowning in a river that doesn’t even come up to your chin!’ He even won a smile from Scouse at that.‘Right,’ Harper said. ‘We’re very far from safe here, so let’s get going.’
CHAPTER 21
Harper made a quick study of the map to refresh his memory and then pointed up the side of the valley towards the shoulder of the ridge high above them. ‘Once we get over that ridge, we’ll be in the right place. Let’s go.’
He set off at a steady pace, his relentless stride eating up the ground, but once more Scouse was soon struggling and dropping behind. Harper couldn’t bollock him, because he knew Scouse was moving as fast as he could, so he slowed his own pace to match, but he kept casting anxious glances behind them as they moved up towards the shoulder of the ridge at what now felt like a pace that could see tortoises overtaking them.
They were still exposed on the slopes, well below the ridge, when he saw one of the Landcruisers moving along the road in the valley bottom behind them. It came to a stop at the point where Harper had killed the look-out and he saw two figures emerge from the vehicle and begin walking up and down the road. They were out of earshot, but he could imagine that they were shouting to their missing comrade. They wouldn’t find him, of course, but his absence would tell them that something was wrong and if they began to use binoculars to sweep the mountainside, they would almost certainly spot Harper and Scouse, for there was little cover on the steep slopes they were crossing.
Breakout: A Heart-Pounding Lex Harper Thriller Page 20