by Nick Carter
"We are nearly there," Luis said. "Just across the small ridge ahead." He produced some chankaka, candy made from unrefined sugar, full of energy and natural sweetness. It was warming, and we rolled up in our ponchos, letting the fine rain lull us to sleep.
9th
There was no sun in the morning, but the change in the temperature was enough to wake us. Luis had been right. Just over a small ridge, we came to the edge of a road running through a ravine. We hunched down in the brush alongside the road.
"The guerrillas will come from across the road," Olo said. "We have watched them, and they do the same thing each time."
"How long before the gondola comes?" I asked.
Olo chuckled softly. "Whenever the driver feels like driving and the bus feels like moving," he said.
I settled down for a possibly long wait, the poncho under me on the damp ground. We stayed silent because across the ravine road, we saw faint movement in the brush which meant the guerrilla forces had arrived. I was getting cramped and hours had passed when I heard the faint sound of a motor, chugging laboriously. Finally, the bus appeared, moving slowly through the ravine.
It was an ancient school bus on which a high rooftop rack had been built, now loaded with bags and suitcases and knapsacks. It drew abreast of us, had moved slowly on, when the guerrillas across the road struck. Two of them ran out in front of the bus, shooting past the driver, who immediately braked to a halt. The others — about six in all — had lined up with their rifles pointed at the terrified passengers.
The passengers were starting to emerge from the bus in single file, hands in the air. I looked at Olo and nodded. The guerrillas were standing alongside the bus, prodding the passengers with the rifles to get out. They were, for the good marksmen I had with me, easy targets. All we had to do was shoot carefully to avoid killing the passengers.
I raised my carbine, took aim and fired. The others shot almost as a man behind me. The guerrillas crumpled like toy soldiers knocked over by an angry child. We raced into the open. The passengers, now doubly terrified, stood stock still. When we herded them back into the bus, they were still not really sure of what exactly had happened before their startled eyes.
"El Garfio is nothing," I said to the driver while the others listened. "Go back to your villages and tell them you saw his men cut down. Tell them he will be hunted down by those who would end his thieving and murdering once and for all. Tell everyone it is certain death to join him."
We watched the gondola chug slowly away, then started back. In our brushes with the guerrilla forces we had been lucky so far, though it was the land of luck that comes with careful planning and expert fighters. It wouldn't always be that way, I knew, and I found myself wondering when we'd run into big trouble.
It was dark when we reached the tapera. Olo and the others who had been ill seemed ready to collapse. They had forced themselves beyond their physical capabilities and now exhaustion took over.
I shook hands all around and went back to the clearing and the helicopter, making my way alone in the blackness of the dense forest. Luckily, the path was fairly clearly defined, and I managed to stay on it.
The rain had finally stopped when I took off for Cochabamba. I arrived there in the dead dark of early morning, and it was dawn when I drove the old Ford into La Paz. In my suite at the hotel, I put away the dirty clothes I'd had on, took a fast shower and fell into bed once again as Nicholaus von Schlegel, arms merchant.
10th
Fortunately, I'm a sound sleeper and my restorative powers are good. I say fortunately because my phone rang in mid-morning to announce that Señorita Yolanda Demas was on her way up. I had brushed my teeth and was slipping on a pair of pants when she knocked. I answered the door that way, dressed only in trousers, and saw her eye me with interest. She was wearing the alpaca coat again but under it was a simple, claret-colored dress that zipped all the way down the front. Her somewhat short figure was helped by the fluid length of the line, and her breasts were tight against the simple bodice I noticed. But mostly I was aware of the full, sensuous lips and the smoldering eyes that indicated an inner volcano.
The lips pouted petulantly.
"I expected you to call me," she said, tossing her coat on a chair. "Especially after what we talked about the last time I was here."
I smiled. "You mean, about enjoying each other? I haven't forgotten. I've been busy."
"You have received another offer?" she asked. "You told me you'd give me the chance to offer you something better."
Smiling inwardly now, I thought of Teresina. I would be happy to give this lush creature before me a chance to do better.
"You are very persistent, Yolanda," I said teasingly. "In fact, you just woke me up. I was up very late last night, working."
"At St. Angela's Academy they taught us to be persistent," she said, and ran her tongue over her lips. They sure as hell didn't teach you to do that at St. Angela's, I thought, watching her.
"I have received several attractive offers," I said.
She walked over and stood in front of me, putting her hands on my chest. They felt hot against my bare skin. "I can offer you as much money and something more," she said, looking up at me, her smoldering eyes catching fire now.
"Prove it," I said.
She reached up and her arms encircled my neck. She kissed me, but she was holding back. I yanked at the zipper, pulling it all the way down. She stepped back as the dress fell open, and I was surprised to see she had no bra on, only a pair of pink bikini panties. Her breasts were magnificent, standing straight out, thrusting upwards, flattening out on the underside of her nipples to give her a rounded, lifted line.
She watched me, her breath coming quickly, her eyes wildly dark. Slowly I slipped the dress from her shoulders and let it fall. My hands slid down over her lovely shoulders to her breasts. She cupped my hands to them and pushed against me, her mouth open, her tongue a fervid snake darting in and out.
She tore at my pants until I was naked before her, then whipped off the bikini panties. She came at me again, and I saw an almost savage light in her eyes, as though she were entering a contest. She was aggressive, savage, almost brutal. She pressed herself against me as I lifted her and carried her into the bedroom.
On the bed, she clutched at me with cries of pleasure, tearing from my arms to explore my body with hands and lips. Then she fell on top of me, her torso churning and pushing, riding as she groaned and panted in a sexual frenzy. I was swept up by her passion and matched her aggressiveness, going her a little better as she cried out in eager desire.
"More, damn," she gasped. "More, more. Harder… now." The more brutal my caresses the more she responded with wild eagerness, matching them with a savagery of her own. The haughty, cool façade was down. She was the mare in heat, aflame with desire for the stallion, using tricks and language nobody ever learned in St. Angela's Academy.
I plunged into her, and she threw her torso upwards in spasms of frenzied ecstasy, alternately groaning and cursing. I realized suddenly that here was the peasant girl — basic, unbridled, animalistic. As she came, her short legs clamped themselves around my waist like a vise, and her smooth, round belly heaved like a piston at high speed.
Like Teresina, Yolanda had her moment of truth, that moment when passion gives the he to all pretense. The imperious, proper tin-mine heiress was exposed as an earthy, primitive wench. Both women were phonies, posing as something they weren't. Why, I wondered, lying beside Yolanda, admiring those magnificent breasts. Her lush body was tremendously exciting, the way rushing rapids and wild winds are exciting. Why the double masquerade. I had to find out.
I watched Yolanda get up, walk into the living room and return carrying her dress.
"Satisfied?" she said, kneeling down beside me to press her breasts against my chest. She moved upwards and rubbed them across my face. As she moved down and stopped, I saw that she would be willing to start again. But I decided against it. I was getting a strange double-play, and I had
to think it out. I hated to see her cover those luscious breasts, but I just sat back and watched her dress.
"Well?" she demanded, the haughty manner back in place. "Do I get the guns?"
"I must wait for the final government offer," I stalled her. "When I have it, I'll call you, and we can discuss it again."
"The same kind of discussion we just had?" she asked, looking at me from under those drooping eyelids.
"The same kind," I said, grinning. "I'm sure all I need is a little more convincing to help me make up my mind. By the way, just for my own records, where is this tin mine of yours?"
The pause was almost imperceptible, but I caught it. "East of El Puente," she said easily. "Between the Piray and the Grande, in a small valley."
I nodded, slipped on my pants and walked to the door with her. She gave me the kind of a kiss that is impossible to forget, and I watched her walk down the hall, paying attention to the very careful steps, the studied gestures.
I closed the door and poured myself a drink. Teresina and Yolanda. Both of them were trying to play me for a sucker. I downed the drink and laughed.
11th
I'd decided to get an early start in the morning. The sun was shining bright and warm for a change, as I drove the old Ford along the road to Cochabamba.
To use the 'copter at that hour of the day would be risking discovery and disaster, so I rode through Cochabamba, down the road past the old warehouse and on into the outlying mountains.
I had started up one of the narrow mountain roads marked by a 30-foot Puya raimondii, the world's tallest herb and an Andean cousin of the pineapple, when I spotted the abandoned mission. I pulled into the courtyard, got out of the car and went into the cool darkness of the old buildings.
Most of the main building and the sanctuary were in good repair. I marked the spot in my mind and on a small map I carried. It could make a convenient meeting place or a landmark to get one's bearings by in the mountains.
The little Ford's engine started to strain and chug as I climbed higher where the air was thinner. Heading downhill, I found the Piray and then the Grande River. I explored first west, then east. I didn't come upon anything resembling a tin mine.
Just to be thorough, I crossed a small bridge over the Grande and explored the other side. There was nothing but dense wilderness there, and I turned back. I came to what passed for a village but was really a cluster of old buildings leaning against each other for mutual support like a gang of drunks. An old woman prodded two goats across the only street with a long stick. As she appeared to have roots in the place, I stopped and called out to her.
She listened to my question about a tin mine, watching me steadily with little dark eyes, so hidden beneath folds of wrinkled skin they were barely visible. Turning, she called over toward one of the houses. A grizzled old vaquero emerged, a serape over his shoulders and a battered straw sombrero on his head. He came over to the car and leaned on the door.
"You are lost, señor," he said. "There is no mine around here."
"You're sure?" I asked. "I'm looking for a tin mine."
"No tin mine," he repeated. "No any kind of mine."
"Perhaps in another valley near here?" I persisted.
"No mine near here anywhere," he said, shaking his head. The woman had come up to stand beside him and shook her head too. "Maybe two, three hundred miles there's a mine." He shrugged. "Not here."
I thanked them and turned the old car back toward Cochabamba. I wasn't really surprised, but had to check Yolanda's story out. Hell, she could have been the exception proving the rule. She could have been tossed out of a dozen finishing schools as oversexed.
A fuzzy suspicion was beginning to form in the back of my mind. I decided that it was time for some real action. I never like being played for a sucker, not by anybody. Beautiful, sexy dames didn't cut any more ice than anybody else on that score.
I drove to the outskirts of Cochabamba, parked under a cluster of trees. Cochabamba wasn't big enough for a stranger to hang around all day without arousing interest, so I avoided the city altogether. I stayed in the car, alternately dozing and watching the farmers drive their few pigs and goats to market. I wondered what they'd say if they ever saw a herd of porkers on a midwestern farm. Probably stare bug-eyed.
The day finally wound its way to a close. I got out of the car and stretched my legs. The wait had given me time to complete my plan. I was going to find out about my phony tin mine heiress and my phony peasant girl at one and the same time.
When it grew dark, I surveyed the sky. The moon, nearly full, hung big and round. I wanted that moon as much as any lover ever did. I waited till nearly midnight, then drove to the warehouse and got out the 'copter.
The moon was a pale lantern but a lantern nonetheless. As I skimmed low just above the treetops, it lighted the trees with a faint glow. I stayed low, despite the risk of crashing into a hillside or an unusually tall tree. By the time I'd reached the clearing, my eyes had grown used to navigating by moonlight. I was proud of myself as I zeroed in on the tiny landing place. As usual, I pulled some branches over the 'copter and started to jog down the path toward the tapera.
I moved very carefully as I drew near the hut. I wasn't expected and I didn't want a faceful of bullets. When I was within fifty feet, I whistled softly and lay flat on the ground. I knew that six carbines were pointed in my direction by now.
"Olo," I called softly. "It's me… Nick."
There was silence. Finally a voice said out of the dark, "Walk out into the open. Keep your hands up."
I did. Seconds later the door of the tapera was flung open and a lamp flared inside.
"You come at this hour?" Manuel asked. "Something big must be up, yes?"
"Something important anyway," I said, entering the hut where Luis was already setting a kettle on for tea. "I want to force El Garfio's hand. They are playing games with me, and I want to put an end to it. We must find some way to strike hard at this El Garfio, whoever he is, so he becomes desperate. Got any ideas?"
I saw them look at each other and grin. Olo threw back his head and roared in happy delight. "We have the way, Señor Nick," he said. "We were eagerly waiting for your next visit. In fact, we were wondering how we might contact you. We have found the cave where the bastardo has his main supply of ammunition and guns."
"Magnifico!" I exclaimed. "Where is it?"
"Two days from here," Olo said. "Cesare was out alone, scouting the hills, when he came on it. It is well guarded, Señor Nick, but we can take it."
Two days, I mused. That would mean I'd be gone from La Paz four days at least. It wasn't too long to arouse suspicion, but long enough to have Teresina and Yolanda biting their nails a bit. I grinned.
"We go in the morning," I said, taking the cup of tea Luis offered me. "It will do perfectly."
12th
We set out at dawn on dew-wet ground with Luis again leading the way. For provisions, we had taken some of the choclos — the sweet corn on the cob — plus some charqui and chankaka.
I was excited. This was as close to direct action against Che, or whoever it was, as I'd been able to manage so far. The prospects were pleasing. I never thought about failure. I learned a long time ago that to even consider failure was the first step to it.
Glancing at my companions, at their ruthless, hard expressions, I knew they didn't expect to fail. Each man was a dedicated machine, dedicated to death and annihilation. Each was a man possessed by private demons. Olo's lined face reflected his. Luis's tight-lipped tension revealed his. Antonio, Cesare, the others, all were driven by their own, personal hunger for revenge. A psychiatrist would have called them obsessed. I called them just what the doctor ordered, and Hawk had delivered.
I fingered the lighter in my pocket. The next time I used the pre-tuned sending set, it would be to begin phase three of my plan. When would depend on how well this foray went. And on the reactions of the two passionate frauds waiting for me in La Paz.
Luis
set a grueling pace that, except for a couple minor incidents, was uneventful. Crossing a small river we lost part of our raft when the logs we'd crudely tied together parted at one end, and Manuel was dumped into the water. We pulled him back on board and made it to the other side safely. We stopped only to eat and to sleep, at midday and as night fell. Darkness made travel too slow to be worth the bother. The dense mountain forests were bad enough by daylight. Tired out by the fast pace, we all slept soundly, wrapped in our ponchos.
13th
In the morning, just after we broke camp, we fought an unexpected battle. A flight of boros descended on us, and we were kept busy flailing away at them with our ponchos. The boros is a fly that when it bites, deposits its larva under the skin which causes a painful infection. Cesare, Antonio and Eduardo were bitten, and we had to treat the bites by cauterizing them immediately with hot matches, a crude and painful but effective method.
It was late afternoon when we reached the firme, the place where the hill flattened out to a level stretch. Beyond a line of trees I looked out at the open side of a mountain, and the mouth of a large cave. A group of guerrillas, perhaps fifteen in all, were outside the cave. Three of them were standing guard at the cave mouth while the others roasted wild pig on a spit over a fire. They had stacked their rifles, ready to be grabbed up instantly.
Olo touched my shoulder, gestured with his head toward the hillside just above the cave. Two more sentries were there, hardly visible, flattened against the dirt of the mountain.
"We can get many of them with our first fire," Olo whispered. "But many is not enough. The rest will race for the cave. Once inside, they can hold us off for days, maybe weeks. Then others will come and our plan will have failed."
"I can't sit around for days exchanging fire with them," I said. "There's only one answer. We'll have to draw most of them away from the cave. I can do that. When they come after me, give me plenty of time to lead them far enough away, then you hit the remaining guards. You should be able to take them out with the first blast, get to the cave. The main group will come racing back when they hear gunfire, and you'll be inside the cave, cutting them down from a protected position.