Pardners

by Roy F. Chandler

  Bravo was waiting. He exploded from the jungle grabbed at the passenger side door handle—and the door was locked. Alpha cursed himself and tried to find the unlocking switch, but the controls were unfamiliar. With the car still rolling, Alpha slid across the seats and heaved the inside handle. An instant later, Bravo was in, the door slammed, and Alpha steered the ponderous machine down the road. It was less than a mile to the bridge.

  Bravo was panting as if he had run far, and Alpha realized he was also gasping for air—and he hadn't run at all. Adrenalin rush, it could allow performances otherwise unreachable, but it would also drain a man quicker than brutal exercise.

  Bravo turned from watching their rear. "No one in sight, but who in hell was that mob rushing the airstrip? They were shooting into those people harder than we were."

  Alpha felt his pulse smoothing and his lungs easing. "No idea. They wore uniforms, it looked like, but they were shooting at us just as often as they were the bad guys. This elephant of a car is armored, or I might not have gotten away. Bullets hit it all over including the windshield big time. Geez, Bravo, there must have been fifty of them—maybe more."

  "Hell, they must have thought we were part of that dope dealing bunch." Bravo considered, "Could they have been Mexican military?"

  "All I saw were guys shooting on full automatic, but that's the way every country except ours fights. Whew, what a screw up, but we are away, and the bridge is coming up. I won't stop, you just bail out. I'll meet you at the point as soon as I can dump this car.

  Bravo was already judging his exit, but Alpha slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Good job, pardner, we sure as hell got them.” He paused before adding, “When you talk to Charlie, don't mention us shooting at all. Just say, a whole army jumped out of the woods and we fled. Hey, that sounds reasonable. Everyone might believe that. We'll talk it over when Charlie isn't around.”

  Alpha slowed, and Bravo got his door open. Alpha watched the road behind as Bravo stepped out, rolled and was gone into the jungle. The road lay empty. He saw no enemies closing on them.

  As he again turned forward, Alpha's eyes did a double-take across the back seat of the Mercedes. Stunned, his arms jerked, and the heavy vehicle lurched almost wildly.

  Good God! Alpha regained control. He looked again and judged what he had seen. Piled in the back seat were a number of black plastic bags, hard-packed just like the bag that had contained the vast pile of hundred dollar bills.

  Could it be? Until he looked closely he could not be sure, but in his guts, Don Byrne knew he was driving away with millions of American dollars— and no one was visible behind or ahead.

  The heavy automobile rumbled across the plank bridge, and Alpha could see the smaller river winding through the gorge a hundred feet below. Jungle closed in tightly along the poorly paved road, and with his discovery of money bags, Alpha wanted a side road where he could examine his loot, if it was loot, and figure out how to dispose of it.

  A half-mile ahead a dirt trace appeared on the driver's side—away from the river he needed to rejoin. Perfect, Byrne slowed and turned gently to avoid skid or recent tire marks in the dirt. He again snuck a look behind, but the road remained empty. He probably had some time.

  Half a mile down the road, which was little more than a pair of ruts paralleling the river he had passed over, Alpha found the spot he needed. On the passenger side a forest of thorns surrounded an ancient tree raising itself above the low brush. The tree stood about forty feet from the road and was otherwise unremarkable. If the bags were filled with money, he could hide them there, and he could find that spot again—if the chance ever came to recover the bags.

  Two hundred yards ahead, the road appeared to angle abruptly to the right. From his position, Byrne could believe the road ended. The sharp turn gave him another reference to remember. He jammed the brakes, leaped out, and tore into the top bag. He opened a gap just large enough to be sure. Yep, money. American one hundred dollar bills, just like the bag emptied on the drug lords' table. Again panting as if he had done something, Alpha went to work.

  Gripping a bag, he fought himself about ten feet into the almost solid bramble patch. He could go no further, but he could throw! Alpha launched his bag as if he were heaving a discus. Not stunningly heavy, the bag took flight and disappeared almost at the foot of the old tree.

  Again perfect. For anyone to discover the bag would require a miracle. There were five more bags. Money was leaping at him.

  To keep the cache together, Alpha aimed each bag for the tree, and once to his dismay, he actually hit it, but all of the bags disappeared into the belly of the thorn thicket.

  Could they be seen from the air? Extremely unlikely. The bags were black and the middle of the thicket would be as dark as a gorilla's armpit.

  Back to the Mercedes and into low gear—now, get rid of the car. If he could turn around, the safest bet would be to abandon the vehicle somewhere further up the paved road, but the jungle lay tight on each side. Backing to the main road would take forever. He would not go that route. Alpha rolled forward, and nearing the turn, he saw a solution.

  He again braked hard and ran ahead to see if his idea would work. The road turned to the right almost on the verge of a cliff-like drop that appeared to fall almost to river level. Overgrown by brush and vines, and as impassable as the thicket holding the money, ravines like this were common. All he had to do was drive the armored car over the edge and let gravity remove it from view.

  Byrne placed his rifle with its empty magazine beside the parked car and examined the interior to make certain nothing was forgotten. The passenger side of the front seat was smeared with blood from the guard's exploding head—and, as sure as hell was hot, Bravo had sat in it.

  The Mercedes idled powerfully, but Alpha believed he would have to goose the engine to get enough weight over the edge of the berm to pull the entire monster of a car into the gorge.

  Fortunately, guardrails were almost unknown in the Mexican hinterlands. Byrne pressed the accelerator and allowed the Mercedes to build up a bit of speed and a lot of momentum. Not too fast, Apha needed to get out, and despite how easily they bailed out of moving cars in movies, Byrne desired no surprises.

  Byrne held onto the wheel until the heavy vehicle's front end lurched from the deep ruts and rose onto the berm. Holding the vault-like door open with one hand, he threw himself as far from the car as he could. He landed well and rolled to watch the car's progress.

  Objects in motion tend to remain in motion, and a four-ton automobile was no exception. The car bounced on its massive suspension, plowed solidly ahead, and went over. The crashing of brush and probably trees eventually died. Birds living along the river rose in flocks, but almost immediately resettled.

  Byrne looked, but the jungle had closed behind the vehicle. Few traces of the car's trajectory remained. Alpha kicked at the road shoulder, removing gouges and tracks that could indicate something having gone over since the last rains. The dirt was loose and moved easily. He stepped back and examined his work—no boot prints. Unless the car was burning down there, or a genuinely skilled tracker who was looking closely passed by, the Mercedes was gone for many a moon—perhaps forever.

  Byrne ran to his rifle and to the main road at a steady trot. He watched ahead and listened for sounds of approaching or passing vehicles, but the wasteland remained silent.

  Intent on his progress, Byrne almost missed looking at the treasure thicket in passing, but nothing showed. Good job on that part.

  At the paved road, Alpha scuffed over a few tire marks that might have indicated traffic turning onto the trace. He examined the road both ways and again listened closely. He saw nothing untoward and dashed across in his best hunched-over ranger style.

  He knelt in the impossibly thick brush on the far side and for the third time listened. Neither ears nor eyes detected anything unnatural.

  When he was sure, Byrne checked his compass and began beating his way through and around the jung
le growth that resisted with thorns and stickers that might have deterred Coronado's conquistadors.

  Chapter 3

  Bravo came out of the jungle in a rush. Charlie was aboard, the small outboard engine running, his head cocked toward the few shots still echoing,

  For an instant, Bravo feared the agent's obvious panic would rule and the boat would slip beyond reach. Bravo expected that his casually pointed Kalashnikov reinforced Charlie's grip on the dock.

  His eyes wild and his voice frantic, Charlie asked, "Who is shooting? What happened? Did they get Alpha, are they coming fast?"

  Before answering, Bravo waved the boat closer, and climbed aboard. His eyes raised to the road bridge almost above them, Bravo pointed downstream and whirled his finger in the air to indicate speed. Charlie threw power into the small Evenrude, and the craft moved almost smartly. Bravo directed their course close under overhanging trees where they would be less detectable from the rapidly receding bridge.

  "Oh, they will be coming all right, Charlie—whoever they are. Maybe a hundred of them emptied out of the jungle and just shot into everything and everybody they could see."

  Charlie's back hunched as though he expected bullet strikes, and his eyes twitched as if he were seeking somewhere to hide.

  Bravo said, "Hold close to the bank but keep the boat moving. Alpha will meet us a mile or so down the big river, where that log sticks out on the point."

  Charlie asked, "Who are they, Bravo? Have they got boats? Can they get ahead of us in cars?"

  Good questions, but Bravo had no answers. "We don't know, but maybe Alpha will have seen something I didn't."

  "Where is he, why isn't he with you? How do you know they haven't got him already?"

  Bravo figured it would help if Charlie were calmed down, so he took time to answer. He took a moment longer than might have been expected because he had to square their story in his own mind—and it would have to match anything Alpha might say when they picked him up.

  "About all I know for sure, Charlie, is that both Alpha and I sensed something wrong. I've got to add that we never expected half an army to come charging out of the jungle across from the airstrip,

  "They came out shooting, and Alpha and I rammed ourselves back into the briar tangles. We didn't know what they had for big weapons or trucks or cycles, so I got set near the road to hold off any of them that came closer than the airfield, and Alpha went for the Mercedes.

  "You'll remember that the motor was running and there was only one guy guarding the car. We wanted to get away faster than any of those wild shooters—with who knows what kind of vehicles—could follow.

  "The guard was already dead. Alpha jumped in, spun the car around, and picked me up on the way out. The Mercedes took a half-hundred hits from rifle fire, but the damned thing was armored—would you believe that for luck?"

  Bravo paused to look and listen. Even the small motor overwhelmed any distant firing, but Bravo suspected the shooting was over, and if any foot chase was coming it was already underway."

  Charlie wanted to ask questions, but Bravo held him quiet with an upraised palm and resumed his story.

  "Alpha slowed the car at the bridge, and I rolled out. I headed for you and the boat. Alpha will have ditched the car further along, and with any luck, we will be far down the river before anyone finds it."

  The boat made the turn into the larger river. The motor would not be heard much beyond the nearest riverbank, and any chance of being seen from the bridge was gone.

  Bravo said, "That's the story, Charlie. That pile of angry shooters could have been anything from the Mexican Army to some sort of guerilla force. Most likely, it was another drug gang."

  Bravo pondered. "It could have been some local police militia, I suppose, but whoever it was shot the life out of about everyone at that table and probably most of the people doing the food service. Thinking about it, in these calmer moments, that doesn't sound like government or local people."

  Charlie skipped Bravo's explanation and got to what he considered important. "But they saw you getting away, didn't they?"

  Bravo thought the comment a bit demeaning, but he answered calmly. "Well, they saw Alpha take the car. Nobody saw me, as far as I could tell, and they won't have a clue as to who Alpha was. If they don't find the car immediately, and if they can't follow Alpha almost on his heels, they won't have a reason in the world to suspect three Americano fishermen just floating out here on the big river."

  "They could have a fast boat coming down on us right now."

  A bit more annoyed, Bravo said, "If you would feel safer walking, Charlie, we can pull over and you can hit the jungle on your own. Hey, you will probably make it out in two or three weeks."

  Charlie stirred as if uncomfortable, "Well, it would have been better if they didn't know anyone else was there."

  Bravo remained patient. "They don't know anyone else was there, Charlie. You can be sure that some of the people over at the tents got away, probably as easily as we did, and no one saw Alpha up close or saw me at all. Whoever ran that attack probably got a couple of those old trucks and cars moving and they might have tried to catch Alpha, but he had a solid lead, and they will be too late. What we have to do, Charlie, is keep calm, be innocent, and know nothing."

  With the sluggish river current on their side, Bravo figured the boat might be making six or seven miles an hour. The point with the big log hove into view, and holding close on the turn, so that they remained under tree shadow, the boat was rammed against a low bank just beyond the log.

  Until you were almost on top of it, the small craft would be invisible. Bravo directed Charlie to shut down the motor and wait in utter silence until he returned. Carrying his empty rifle, Bravo slid into the closely encroaching jungle.

  There was little visibility and no fields of fire—even if he had ammo left. Only a suicidal fool fought from a tree or a significantly elevated spot. A soldier always sought a covered or protected route of withdrawal—which, most recognized, was just as important as a direction in which to shoot.

  Bravo moved only a dozen steps into the heavy cover before sinking out of sight within a briar thicket. He could scoot, or he could be back in a long instant to defend the almost hapless agent and their boat. If Charlie's feared fast boat appeared, he could toss his rifle and claim they were fishermen, and he was only relieving himself in private.

  Satisfied with his reasoning, Bravo settled himself and listened for Alpha's approach.

  It was more than a half hour before Bravo heard Alpha struggling through the undergrowth. When he was sure it was Alpha, Bravo spoke softly.

  "Halt! Who is there?"

  Alpha's voice was an irritated snort. "It is I, the jungle ghost."

  "Better hold it up, ghost, or Charlie might shoot you. He isn't at his calmest."

  Alpha hove into view. He was sweat soaked, and thorn scratches bloodied his arms.

  Alpha softly groaned, "Oh God, you didn't leave him with a gun, did you?" It was just talk. Alpha and Bravo had the only weapons. Although Charlie did not know, they had emptied their only magazines.

  Alpha knelt close, and Bravo looked him over. "You should have stayed on the highway, Don. Those thorns did a job on you."

  "Yeah, if we do this again, I'm sticking to the interstates."

  Alpha turned his attention to a scraping from the out of sight boat. "What is he doing?"

  "No idea, but we had better find out. When I got to him back by the bridge, he was holding to the dock by a finger or two. Charlie has what he came for, and I don't want to have to walk out of here because he was in a hurry."

  Alpha said, "Tell him I am here. We have to talk a minute before we are stuck with him."

  Bravo felt worry. "Bad news?" Alpha just grinned.

  Bravo called, "Charlie, Alpha's here. We will stay out for a few minutes to make sure we are clear. Quit making noise and just wait."

  Charlie's voice was sulky. "I'm not making noise. Hurry up, and let's get
moving."

  Alpha knelt close and whispered in Bravo's ear. "I got across the bridge and up the road a mile or so without anybody in sight either way. A dirt trace went off to the left, so I took it. About a half mile in and out of sight from the main road, I pulled up and tossed six moneybags, like the one we saw opened, into a thorn thicket that I couldn't even get to." Bravo's gasping halted him.

  Bravo's voice was thin and strained. "Six of those money bags, and you could find them again?"

  "Of course, I could find them," Alpha's voice was confident and his last word was inclusive—"pardner."

  Then, he went on. "I ran the car over a sort of cliff where it will be hard to find." He pursed his lips in thought. "You remember that movie Romancing the Stone where the stars went sliding down that jungle cliff for about a hundred yards or more?" Bravo nodded, "Well, it was a place like that. That car might be a long time in locating."

  Bravo was still stunned. "Six bags?"

  "Six bags from the back seat, just as tightly packed and with the same contents." Alpha's grin turned colder. "Charlie is not to know, Bravo. Are we agreed on that?"

  "Good God, yes. He would want to give it back or something."

  "So, what did you tell Charlie about our adventure?"

  Bravo explained, "Just what we planned on telling him. We have to stick to that."

  Alpha nodded. "Perfect, that is exactly the way I remember it." He hesitated and looked toward the boat. "You don't suppose our pal Charlie has that listening thing of his set up and is hearing what we are saying?"

  Bravo popped to his feet and disappeared into the vegetation. Alpha was still rising when he heard his partner say, "Start the engine, Charlie, we'll be leaving now."

  A mile further, Alpha said, "It's time we deep-sixed the rifles and the fancy listening equipment."