"Do you need one?" she asked.
"Hey, everybody can use a good pep talk once in a while." He patted her on the shoulder. "Go carve your spear. When Joe and I are done here, we'll come over and help you."
"Thanks, Terry," she said, moving rapidly through the shrubs toward a thin sapling.
"She's okay," Terry said admiringly.
Joe looked up. "So are you, Terry."
"We've got a good group here." Terry pointed to where Biff was keeping a lookout some distance away. "Including Biff. The three of us got to know each other pretty well. You have a lot of time for talk when you're locked up together. Look at him out there, totally vigilant. Even hurt, he still wants to pull his weight. Hammerlock won't be able to sneak past him." Terry knelt beside Joe. "Okay, let's get this job finished."
They carved notches on either side of the tree. After a bit, they pulled on the tree, bending it backward. The thin tree pulled against their hands. It had a lot of tension and wanted to spring upright.
"That'll do the trick," Terry said.
"I think you're right," Joe said. He felt better, but he was still waiting for the jungle air to be ripped apart by gunshots. What if I'm wrong? he wondered. One of these two may already have gotten Frank killed.
It took Lauren less than five minutes to saw through the sapling. She coiled the thin metal saw back into its original shape and forced it into the handle of the knife. She held the knife with great care. It was a weapon to respect.
When she was in the middle of carving the spear out of the sapling, Joe and Terry joined her. They helped her trim and carve the spear tip.
The sun was climbing high above the trees now, and the sky was clear, so beautiful that it seemed to promise paradise.
They finished the spear. It ended in a jagged, rough-hewn point, the pale gleaming yellow of freshly cut wood.
Lauren stared at Biff. He was still waiting. No signal.
Hammerlock was not yet ready to attack again.
The three of them forced the small, notched trees backward until their tops touched the ground. They fastened the bent trees in firing position with the nylon fishing cords. They all held their breath, hoping the cords would hold the trees in check—until the time came to fire. The cords stretched, but held.
They were nocking the spear into the center of the line stretched between the trees, but had not completed the task, when Biff signaled emphatically from his vantage point.
"It's Hammerlock!" Lauren said. "And he's close."
"Real close," Joe agreed, a sick feeling in his stomach. "He found us again—thirty seconds before we're ready."
Chapter 15
BIFF REMAINED STILL, watching Hammerlock's confident advance. Hammerlock would pass within ten yards of him. Biff gritted his teeth. There was no way he could stop Hammerlock. He was still too weak to defend even himself. He could only watch—and warn the others.
The colonel held the powerful handgun at his side, straight down. In seconds, though, Biff knew he could whip it up, aim, and fire.
It would be insane for Biff to let Hammerlock know where he was hidden among the covering of thick fronds. But a glance over his shoulder told him that Joe and the others did not yet have the spear nocked in place. Hammerlock would be upon them before they could get it ready for firing.
Biff's hands searched quickly over the sand for rocks. He found one! Two! A third!
Hammerlock was almost past him. In ten seconds, tops, he would spot the threesome. It was now or never.
Biff raised himself painfully, afraid his legs wouldn't support him. He shook, like an invalid standing for the first time in years.
Can't let myself fall, he thought.
His knees buckled and pain shot up his legs, deep into his thighs, and he started to topple.
Hammerlock heard the noise and went into a quick crouch, turning at the same instant. His gun hand came up, just as quickly as Biff had known it would!
"What is he doing? Has he gone nuts?" Joe asked in stunned disbelief. The sick feeling wouldn't go away. Somehow, Hammerlock knew how to find us again. Terry or Lauren must be on his side, Joe thought.
Biff fell against the side of the tree. It was the only thing holding him up. Hammerlock was moving toward Biff, zeroing in on his prey.
Joe could see that Biff had something in his fists. He was raising one of his arms.
Rocks! He has rocks, Joe thought, horrified. Rocks against state-of-the-art weaponry!
It was like watching a modern David and Goli-ath, Biff so vulnerable and small against the mighty figure of Hammerlock!
"Come on!" Terry said. "He's buying us time. Let's not waste it!"
Hammerlock's gun fired, and Joe heard Biff cry out.
The bullet tore a chunk out of the tree just half an inch from Biff's head. It would have hit him if he had not lurched when he threw the rock. The rock landed short of Hammerlock.
Biff knew he was going to fall. His legs were giving out on him. He tossed the second rock, giving it everything he had, and plunged forward, falling through leaves and branches.
With a moan of pain, he rolled, crushing vegetation that was in his way. He suddenly wondered if there were poisonous snakes on this island. Who cares, he thought, I'm going to get a bullet in the head any second now.
He rolled in the direction of the spear trap. If he was going to buy it, the best he could do was lead Hammerlock in its direction — make Hammerlock the target of the day, for once!
Biff sprawled out in front of the trajectory area for the spear. He could hear Hammerlock coming after him.
Keep your head low, Biff told himself, or you'll end up as the first piece of shish kebab.
Hammerlock appeared five feet away from him, his figure blotting out the trees and sun. He aimed his gun at Biff.
If the spear-slingshot wasn't ready, Biff was as good as dead!
***
Joe glared at Terry as they cut the nylon restraining cords. If he sabotages us now, I'll know, Joe thought. But the trees whipped upward. The spear was shot forward like a giant arrow. All three watched, mesmerized, as it sailed over Biff's sprawled, helpless form.
Hammerlock's head snapped up. The huge gun followed as quickly. The unparalyzed side of his face reacted to the sight of the spear rushing at him.
The spear caught Hammerlock before he could move! It hit him high in the shoulder and knocked him off his feet. The carved wood broke as he landed, cracking in half with a tearing sound.
Joe leapt to his feet.
"Got him!"
The huge body rolled and closed in on itself. "We've won!"
Joe rushed forward. Lauren and Terry were on either side of him.
Hammerlock moved. Joe could not believe it, but the colonel was pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. The three of them came to a stop, frozen in disbelief.
Impossible! Joe told himself. No man could get up after that!
Like some mythical monster, Hammerlock rose to his feet, the broken spear still protruding from his safari shirt. His good eye looked down at it as if it were only a minor nuisance. One greased hand reached up, gripped the broken spear, and ripped it free. He disdainfully tossed it into the sand, and then turned his attention to the threesome standing no more than a dozen yards away.
Terry did his best to nail Hammerlock, thought Joe. So Lauren had to be the traitor. He turned to her.
But Lauren was charging Hammerlock. Joe could scarcely believe it. She covered half a dozen yards, moving without a word, her knife held tight in her hand. She would never make it. He knew she would never make it! "No!" he screamed, but he was too late.
The Super Blackhawk came up, fired. The bullet caught Lauren, whipping her about violently. She hit the sand with a muted thud and lay there motionless. , Hammerlock walked deliberately toward them, callously stepping over Lauren's inert body. He didn't even give her a second glance.
Joe was gasping for breath. He felt as if everything he had ever feared had finally caug
ht up with him.
Iola. Frank. Now Lauren. Dead! All of them, dead!
He stared into Hammerlock's emotionless face and felt the rage build within him. He could hardly hold himself still. All he wanted was a crack at this psychopath! Just one chance to even the score!
"Hey, Hammerlock," he called to the colonel. "You want a fight? A fair fight? Why not put that gun down and go one on one with me?" Although he was seething with fury, Joe's voice was cold.
Hammerlock's face never changed expression as he studied Joe. "That's a laugh. What is it with you, kid? You go to the movies a lot or something? I'm not going to risk anything. When you've got an enemy cornered, you kill him. And that's exactly what I'm going to do to you. I'm going to shoot you stone-cold dead."
Joe stood his ground, Terry beside him.
Hammerlock raised his gun to firing position, wincing as he did so. "That was a cute idea, using those trees as a bow. Too bad it didn't work."
The colonel tapped his chest where the spear had hit. "I'm wearing a Kevlar vest under my shirt. Your spear hurt, but it didn't penetrate." His voice was deadly quiet, and did not reflect pain. "I don't like being hurt."
Hammerlock moved the huge gun until its barrel was aimed directly between Joe's eyes.
"For what it's worth," Joe said, trying to breathe evenly, "I don't like having guns pointed at me. How about if that makes us even?"
"Not a chance," Hammerlock answered. His thick forefinger started to squeeze the trigger!
Chapter 16
LAUREN MADIGAN FELT the blood trickle warmly down her side.
The force of the bullet had given her whole body a tremendous shock, even though it had only grazed her side. She had known she could never reach Hammerlock with the knife. But she had never really intended to. She just wanted him to think she had.
It had all been a matter of timing. She had watched Hammerlock's fingers, trying to anticipate the second the trigger would be pulled. When she was positive he was about to shoot, she had whipped her body about, hoping that she would be out of the trajectory of the bullet, but that it would look as if it had hit her.
She didn't quite make it—yet she had been partially successful. The bullet had actually grazed her, and she hadn't had to fake her hard collision with the sand.
She hadn't even had to concentrate on remaining motionless. The initial trauma to her nervous system took care of that. Even a minor wound from a high-caliber weapon such as Hammerlock's caused a devastating reaction to the body. No acting was needed.
By the time Hammerlock stepped over her, she was becoming aware again of the sand and voices.
From the corner of her eye, Lauren could see Biff valiantly, but hopelessly, crawling through the sand. He was too far away to reach Hammerlock in time, and too weak to do anything even if he did.
She looked past Hammerlock and caught a glimpse of Terry trying to position his knife for an underhanded throw. He was trying not to make an overt movement, or Hammerlock would spot it and squeeze off half a dozen shots in two seconds. And he had them dead in his sights.
But Lauren could fix that. She kicked out, straight and hard. Her booted heel thrust into Hammerlock's leg, right behind the knee. The leg gave, and for a split second Hammerlock's pistol wavered.
Joe and Terry were upon him instantly. Joe dove high, his fist slamming into Hammerlock's throat. Terry hit the colonel's broad midsection. They all tumbled into the sand.
Lauren joined the melee, sending a hard right hook into Hammerlock's nose.
Joe was throwing punches, anywhere he could land a fist, when he heard someone laugh. He had heard that laugh before — that hideous laugh that sounded like bones scraping together.
Hammerlock took advantage of the instant's distraction. He flung Joe away like a rag doll, and was lurching back onto his feet when he heard the laugh again.
"Playing in the sand, Colonel?" the voice asked.
Everyone became still.
Orville Brand. Brand with an automatic weapon. Brand smiling, there to claim his prize.
He wasn't alone. There were two other para-military types with him. And they were both armed.
Joe glared at Brand, ready to charge him.
The major's dark, sunken eyes appraised Joe, his machine gun aimed at Joe's chest.
"What a pleasure to see you looking so well," Brand said tauntingly.
Hammerlock disengaged himself from Terry and Lauren.
"Sporting chance, huh?" Joe spat at Hammerlock with contempt. "You come after us with superior firepower, and even then you need backup troops to cover for you."
The left side of Hammerlock's face twitched. "You condemn me unjustly. I didn't order Brand or any of these others to give me strike support."
Hammerlock glared at Brand. "You're getting overzealous. You know I go on these hunts alone. How dare you disregard the procedure? You'd better have a good excuse, Major."
Hammerlock stalked heavily over to the spot where his Super Blackhawk pistol had landed. He started to bend to pick it up.
"Colonel," Brand said, his tone part command, part warning.
Puzzled, Hammerlock cocked his head in Brand's direction. Then he saw that the machine gun was aimed at him.
"I wouldn't," Brand said.
Hammerlock stood very still, trying to understand what was happening. He took a threatening step toward Brand, and the other two men swung their weapons to cover him.
Hammerlock stopped dead. He was too much the seasoned warrior to move, knowing that the odds were against him.
Hammerlock ignored the others, staring only at Brand. "Am I to understand that you are like those bureaucrats who betrayed me so many years ago? Am I to understand that the bonds that held us together in the face of war have been destroyed?"
"So, the death game comes full circle," Joe said mockingly.
Hammerlock stared at Brand in honest bewilderment. "I saved your life," he said.
"That was a long time ago," Brand replied. "You couldn't possibly expect subservience forever."
"Subservience, no, but loyalty, yes!" Hammerlock snarled.
"Brand believes in money more than loyalty, right, Major?" Joe asked sarcastically. He was thinking of the documents Frank had found.
"It's the San Marcos business, isn't it?" Joe continued. "Hammerlock was telling the truth when he denied knowing anything about that mercenary deal." He shook his head. "He is a psychopath, who thinks there are simple answers to complex world problems. But at least he's not out to make big bucks from them."
"Is that true, Orville?" Hammerlock asked. His face became unreadable again.
"Why don't you give me a harangue about honor, Colonel? Honor is an illusion. It's in your mind. It's a disease that has prevented you from seeing how what we created could make us rich men!" Brand's anger seemed to get the better of him, and Joe was afraid he might open fire.
"I created Ultimo," Hammerlock stated, but it was in a dead voice, as if he had already decided the argument was over.
"But I'm going to turn the squadron into the highest-paid independent mercenary unit ever," Brand informed him. "With or without Ultimo. In a little over two weeks, I'm going to take command of our forces and lead them in a strike into San Marcos."
Hammerlock's guttural voice was devoid of threat, just flat and distant. "I'll never let you turn this noble fighting unit into a collection of hyenas and jackals."
Brand shrugged. "Yes. That's the problem. You see, Colonel, I wish I could leave you here on this island to play your little games, but I know you would oppose me."
"You should know that. You've known me long enough."
"The troops have been training for this operation and this operation alone. They think you approve of it." Brand's dark, sunken eyes shone. "If I let you return to camp, you could create tremendous divisiveness within the troops. Right now, as long as they think you endorse it, they're hungry to go into battle."
"Over my dead body," Hammerlock said.
; Brand's thin lips parted in a smile. "Exactly, Colonel."
Terry picked himself up, anticipating what was coming. "Oh, and let me guess," he said. "You're going to use us as the scapegoats. You're going to make it look like one of us killed the colonel during his little foray."
"Brilliant, Terry," Brand said. "Your father would be proud of you. Of course, he'll never know."
"Because we'll all be dead. You'll have had to avenge the dear colonel," Terry said.
Brand nodded. "Yes. That should make you happy, Colonel. The troops will love the revenge angle. You've trained them so efficiently on the subject." Brand paused, then added, "And, of course, in the end, I will make over a million dollars."
Brand aimed his machine gun at Joe. One of the other men kept Hammerlock covered. The third man aimed at Terry.
Biff started crawling again. He shouted, "No!" but no one bothered to react to him.
Brand's thin lips pulled up over his large teeth. "Looks like you're on the firing range again, Joseph! Only this time there are no wooden targets. Game's over." He nodded toward the other men. "Ready on the firing line. Ready!" A dra-matic pause for effect, and then the command, "Aim!"
Chapter 17
Frank Hardy's boots slammed into Brand's mouth, driving the last command down his throat. Brand fell backward, Frank on top of him. Frank's hands went for Brand's machine gun, trying to wrest it from him.
"Go for Hammerlock's gun, Joe! Get the gun!" Frank shouted. The machine gun in his hands quivered like a living thing as he grappled with Brand, its barrel swaying back and forth before his face. If Brand got his finger inside the trigger guard, Frank's plan would turn into another disaster.
Frank had heard the gunfire, which told both Brand and him where the colonel was located. Then he had followed Brand and company, climbing a tree while Brand confronted Hammerlock. All the time Frank kept trying to figure out the best plan of attack against four weapons when he had none!
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