by Neil Hunter
‘What do you think of Yucatan now?’ Hunt asked dryly.
Brand didn’t look up from reloading his Colt. ‘It’s just like home.’ he said.
‘At least we know where Han is.’
Brand grunted. ‘Fat lot of good it’s going to do if we don’t light out of here.’
Twisting over on to his back Hunt studied the sky. ‘Another couple of hours it’s going to be dawn. We’ll be able to see where we are.’
‘And so will they. Either way we play it we end up with a lousy hand.’
‘Do I detect signs of defeat?’
‘I didn’t think you British ever used that word.’
‘You think?’
Gunfire filled the night with noise. Bullets chewed into the log, showering Brand and Hunt with rotted wood. As the blast of sound faded away Brand raised his head, straining his ears. He caught the soft sound of someone running, and knew he’d guessed right. The shooting had been a cover. Giving one of Han’s men the opportunity of reaching their hiding place. Brand listened for another second, placing the running figure. He leaned across the top of the log, levelling his Colt. A moment later the man was illuminated by a patch of moonlight. Brand recognised the face. It was Lex Dwyer. The heavy Colt in Brand’s hand exploded twice. The bullets smashed Dwyer backwards. He twisted as he fell, hitting the ground on his face, the gun in his hand going off with a muffled sound.
‘You want to stay here or chance moving?’ Brand asked.
‘I always feel better during a running fight,’ the Britisher replied. ‘Never have been able to just sit and wait.’
Brand touched Hunt’s arm and pointed out the direction he intended taking. Hunt nodded. Together they rose to their feet, clearing the log, driving forward into the gloom. Ahead of them lay a dark spread of dense forest, an overlapping mass of trees and foliage. They plunged into the greenery, bullets snapping at their heels. Brand felt something tug at his left sleeve but it was the only bullet to come close.
They kept up the hectic pace for ten minutes. Eventually they slowed, allowing their tired bodies to rest. As they paused Brand realised that the rain had slackened, the high wind dropping too. It didn’t stop completely but it was obvious that the storm’s full power had been spent. There was still the steady fall of the rain against the dripping foliage and the ground underfoot was still sodden.
‘It always happens like this,’ Hunt remarked. ‘A storm hits and while it lasts it really lets rip. Then it slacks off, ends, and a couple of hours later you wonder if it ever happened at all.’
Far behind them Brand could hear the sounds of their pursuers. Hunt had picked up the sound too. The cessation of the full storm was making it easier for their pursuers too.
‘If we cut off to the east we should pick up a river,’ Hunt said. ‘Somewhere along it is a spot where it joins a road which will take us back to Agua Verde.’
Brand looked doubtful. ‘I’d like to get hold of a horse as soon as possible.’
‘Oh?’
‘I’m trying to figure how Han’s feeling right now. He’ll be deciding what chances he has left. We know too much about his plans, and he’ll be aware of that. He’s got a damn great pile of gold he wants to sell, and a big deal ready to be made. He’s going to figure the Mexican authorities may be about to close in on him. So I’m betting he’s going to move that gold. Right now. If he gets it out of the country he’ll feel safer. Somewhere along this coast he’ll have that ship of his ready and waiting. He’ll be forced to use it now we’ve forced his hand.’
Hunt stared at him for a moment, his face hardening.
‘You’re right, Jason. It makes good sense. He isn’t going to sit and wait for everything to blow up in his face. It doesn’t matter to Kwo Han where he makes his deal for the gold. It wouldn’t even be too much trouble for him to sail right to his customer’s back door. Bringing the gold to Yucatan was the easy way to remove it from US hands. He’ll be figuring to move it away again.’
‘Yeah? Well not if I’ve got anything to do with it,’ Brand said with feeling.
Chapter Sixteen
Barely an hour had passed since sunup yet the oppressive heat was already making Brand sweat. He wished it was still raining. Since the downpour had stopped the heat had returned, drying their clothing and sucking the moisture from their bodies. He trailed behind Richard Hunt’s erect figure, envious of the Britisher’s almost casual disregard of the overpowering climate, but determined not to let his own discomfort show. To himself he admitted an obsessive longing to lie down and say to hell with it all. Not that he ever would. Brand was no different to anyone else. He had his weaknesses, his fears, but he kept them to himself and made a show of outer toughness. He often wondered why. Vanity? A need to prove himself against an uncompromising world? Or simply the camouflage required to enable a man to survive? The answer, whatever it was, never revealed itself too clearly. Hunt glanced over his shoulder, a smile showing through the grime of his face.
‘There she is, Jason,’ he said.
Following the Britisher’s raised hand Brand caught sight of water glinting in the bright sunlight. Hunt had been right about the river. He’d been right about the distance too.
‘How far before we reach that road?’
Brand still had the nagging feeling the longer they wasted out here, the more certain he felt Kwo Han was going to get away. He believed now that somewhere not too far away the Chinese was preparing to move his gold.
‘Two, maybe three hours,’ Hunt answered.
‘Any chance we might be able to pick up a boat? Something to get us downstream quicker.’
Hunt didn’t answer straightaway. Pushing through the foliage along the bank of the river he stood at the water’s edge, looking first up and then downstream. He turned as Brand joined him.
‘I wanted to make sure just where we are,’ he said. ‘If I’m not mistaken there’s a small village about half a mile upstream. I daresay we could borrow a boat there.’
They moved off again, conscious all the time that somewhere behind them were Kwo Han’s men. Since the gunfight in the swamp they hadn’t had any more contact with the men chasing them. But they had heard them during the hours of darkness. Still following, though at a discreet distance now. When daylight had come Kwo Han’s men had fallen even further back, not wanting to reveal themselves to the accurate fire of the two they were following. Their pursuers’ caution had given Brand and Hunt a strong lead. They didn’t however fall into the trap of becoming complacent. Both of them knew that Han’s men were still on their trail, and they knew the penalties for over-confidence.
During the odd times they had rested during the night Brand had learned the facts concerning Hunt’s capture by Kwo Han. The Britisher had done nothing to conceal the fact he’d made a bad mistake in letting himself walk in to the trap set by the Tong Master. Kwo Han had made it clear to him that Hunt’s life meant nothing. He only required Hunt for the information he could impart. The Chinese, though he hadn’t said it in so many words, had been obviously worried over his position in Yucatan. He needed to know how much Hunt was aware of, and to whom he had given his information. Hunt had maintained a steadfast silence. It had cost him a deal of discomfort, but staying silent and listening had furnished Hunt with enough facts to be able to realise his guess had been right. Kwo Han was contemplating a merger with an American criminal group. The gold was to be used as finance. Hunt had learned also, from a boasting Dwyer, that Harvey Ruger had been killed, leaving the way open to a fifty-fifty partnership.
The more Brand thought about it the more certain he became of the way Kwo Han’s mind would be working. The Chinese, an old hand at survival, lived by his wits, his ability to keep one step ahead of trouble. He would have made his decision by now, based on the facts that both Brand and Hunt were free, capable of using the knowledge they had to harm him. Mexico’s previous availability as a refuge had come to an end, and Kwo Han’s very nature would prompt him to undertake swift action.<
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Hunt’s low voice, taut with concern, broke through Brand’s deliberations. He caught the Britisher’s gesture for silence, and looked beyond Hunt’s shoulder. Coming through the tangled mass of foliage and trees ahead of them was a band of mounted men. Brand swore softly, snatching the Colt from his belt.
Damn, did it never end?
How many more had Kwo Han sent after them?
But then he heard Hunt laugh. He glanced at the Britisher and saw the man’s grin. For a fleeting moment be wondered if the man had gone crazy.
‘It’s Rumboy,’ Hunt said. ‘Damned if he hasn’t brought half the Rurales force with him, too.’
Brand watched the riders approach, feeling tension drain out of his body. He let the Colt sag towards the ground. Hunt had been right. The riders were Rurales, and Major Ruiz was at their head.
‘Hey, Captain. Mr. Brand.’ Rumboy’s dark face split in a wide smile. He slid from his horse, coming to meet them. ‘I sure hope you don’t do things like this very often. All the time I been thinking we goin’ find you dead.’
‘We’re all right,’ Hunt told him. ‘Listen, Rumboy, we haven’t got time to waste. What word have you got on Kwo Han?’
‘He’s running, boss. Mr. Brand’s fire done burned him out.’
‘You know where he’s gone?’ Brand asked.
Rumboy nodded. ‘He left pretty good tracks. That wagon he took with him is leaving marks a blind man could follow.’
‘You were right, Jason. He’s taking the gold with him,’ Hunt said. ‘And he won’t be able to move too fast. The ground will still be pretty soft after all that rain.’
‘Where do you think he’s making for?’ Brand asked.
‘I reckon Bay of Caves,’ Rumboy told him. ‘Nearest place for a big ship to come in close.’
‘Same place I came ashore,’ Brand said. ‘Angel told me Bay of Caves.’
Hunt nodded. ‘It’s a likely place. Deep water and sheltered. Han’s ship could get in and out without trouble.’
‘He’s got plenty of riders with him,’ Rumboy said.
‘It appears our Chinese friend has hired himself some help,’ Hunt said. ‘He had a bunch of Mexican guns with him at the big house.’
‘You are sure?’ Ruiz asked.
‘That’s right, Major,’ Brand said. ‘There were Mexicans in the party chasing us through the night.’
‘They are nothing but scavengers,’ Ruiz said. ‘Look at Cruz and you see them all. They swagger around believing they are old time banditos. They are nothing. Toss them a few pesos and they would slit the throats of their own mothers. If they had mothers.’
‘Major Ruiz, I get the feeling you would be happy to get rid of them.’
‘Agua Verde does not need these dogs. My predecessors did little to solve the problem, but I cannot stand around and let them plague us. They are like flies around a jar of honey.’ Ruiz suddenly smiled. ‘This could be the opportunity I have been waiting for. To catch them in a criminal act. It would give me the freedom to engage them and rid our town of their presence.’
‘You’re welcome to ride with us,’ Brand said. ‘We’d be grateful for your assistance.’
‘Better a dozen than just three,’ Hunt pointed out.
Ruiz nodded. ‘You have convinced me.’ He called over his shoulder. ‘Sergeant, bring up those extra horses. Then have the men ready to ride at my command.’
A pair of saddled horses were led to where Brand and Hunt waited. They hauled themselves into the saddles. Brand felt more comfortable sitting the wide Mexican rig.
Major Ruiz told them that he and his men still had work to do at Han’s former home, rounding up the people who had been working for him. It appeared that Cruz had been doing a lot of talking, implicating Han in illegal activities in and around Agua Verde.
‘Nothing like someone wanting to save his own skin,’ Brand said.
Rumboy grinned.
‘I think it might be to do with him having been half scared out of his wits by Mr. Brand.’
The Rurales Major directed a section of his troop to ride for the house and carry out the task, then turned back to Brand.
‘Now we are ready.’
‘Rumboy, let’s ride,’ Brand called.
Rumboy nodded and wheeled his own horse around and led the group across country. They pushed their horses hard, forcing a gruelling pace. It went against Brand’s grain to misuse a horse, but he was driven by an almost desperate need to reach Kwo Han before the man had time to escape. The realisation crossed his mind that he had yet to come face-to-face with the Chinese. Kwo Han was just a name to him for the present. A mysterious figure lurking in the shadows handing out his instructions. Brand found he was becoming curious. He wanted to see what this man looked like. He found that he was cold as far as emotions went concerning Kwo Han. The man had proved himself to be totally ruthless...an unfeeling, calculating man who could order another’s death without concern. He had done his best to have Brand killed. Now, maybe, the boot was on the other foot.
The landscape had taken on a fresh look following the storm, the green foliage interspersed with bright flowers and the whole radiating a lush aura.
An hour before noon they sighted the coast. Soon after Rumboy pointed out the wagon tracks in the still soft earth. They could also see the hoof prints from a number of horses that accompanied the loaded wagon. The riders rode in a tight formation, protecting the wagon.
‘Bay of Caves just along here,’ Rumboy said. He took them in amongst the trees bordering the shoreline and they dismounted. Ruiz ordered his men to do the same. Rumboy led them to where the greenery gave way to the steep slope leading down to the white beaches surrounding the wide, circular bay. They were able to see the whole of the Bay of Caves. It was a good half-mile across. A sheltered lagoon circled by a rim of white sand and a wall of weathered rock dotted by countless caves. Beyond the rock the greenery took over, trees and foliage spreading back on to, the mainland. Close in to the shore The Gulf Queen rode at anchor.
And two long rowing boats were pulled up to the beach. Both were heavily laden with wooden cases taken from a wagon standing near the water. A group of armed Mexicans clustered around the wagon.
‘There they are, boss,’ Rumboy said. ‘All we got to do is stop them.’
Brand eased himself into a comfortable position against a tree trunk. ‘Which one is Kwo Han?’ he asked.
Hunt leaned forward, studying the figures crowded around the wagon and boats. ‘The one in the brown suit. That’s your big bad Chinaman.’
‘This time he doesn’t walk away,’ Brand said. ‘He’s caused enough death and misery to get his hands on that gold. It’ll be my pleasure to take it away from him.’
‘I will take my men and we will come around from the other side,’ Major Ruiz said.
‘Go ahead,’ Brand said. ‘We’ll give you a few minutes to get into position.’ As Ruiz turned to go Brand called, ‘Good luck.’
Ruiz nodded. ‘And you.’
Brand watched as the Rurales led their horses back into the trees, waiting until they were some distance away before mounting up. The Rurales eased into the heavy thickets and timber, disappearing from sight.
‘I hate this,’ Hunt remarked, then added, ‘Waiting, I mean.’
‘We won’t be doing it for long,’ Brand said, spinning the Colt’s cylinder to check it.
They allowed a few more minutes until Rumboy nudged Brand’s arm.
There had been a sudden flurry of movement near the boats. Brand realised that they were being pushed away from the beach. He stood up, shrugging out of the jacket he was wearing, making certain he took the extra .45 bullets and dropped them in his pants pocket.
‘You feel up to some exercise?’ he asked Hunt.
The Britisher’s bruised, unshaven face grinned at him. ‘I do believe, Mr. Brand, that you intend to cause discord and altercation amongst our brothers.’
‘If I knew what you meant I’d probably agree.’
>
Rumboy shook his head. ‘I ain’t sure I know what either of you is talkin’ about, but whatever we goin’ to do, how we goin’ to do it?’
Brand didn’t answer. He simply moved off along the tree line, keeping in the shadows where the sandy beach gave way to the greenery of the foliage. Hunt followed him and Rumboy brought up the rear.
They had only gone about thirty feet when, without warning, a Mexican carrying a rifle stepped out of the shade of a thick palm tree. He was no more than a few feet ahead of Brand, and there was no hope of avoiding being seen. Brand carried on moving forward, and as the Mexican started to glance in his direction Brand lifted his right arm, then brought it down in a brutal chopping movement. The barrel of the Colt caught the man just behind the left ear, dropping him instantly. But as he fell the Mexican jerked the trigger of his rifle and it went off with a blast of sound.
‘Damn,’ Brand said bitterly.
The figures by the wagon all turned towards the source of the shot. One of the Mexicans opened up with a rifle. Bullets peppered the sand around Brand. He pressed in close to the rough trunk of the palm, snatching up the rifle dropped by the unconscious Mexican. He put it to his shoulder, aimed, and fired. His first bullet ripped a long sliver of wood from the top board of the wagon side. The figures near the wagon scattered, a ragged volley of shots coming from their guns.
‘Spread out,’ Brand yelled. He lunged forward, seeking the cover of a boulder half buried in the beach, bullets chewing up angry gouts of sand close to his body. He hit the hot sand, hugging the curve of the boulder, wincing as he heard the high, vicious whine of bullets striking the rock. Dragging himself to one end of the boulder Brand poked the rifle into view. He spotted a slim figure racing along the beach towards his hiding place – this time one of Han’s Chinese. Brand fired twice, putting the bullets close together in the chest of the yelling Chinese. The man was knocked off his feet, his body arching in pain as he struck the ground.