Operation Congo (S-Squad Book 9)

by William Meikle

  “And I’ll hold you to it,” she replied and he saw she was now deadly serious. “So what comes first?”

  “We hunker here until daylight then young Wilkins will see if he can get us up and over the top out of the crater. Then we find the captain and Wiggo and we get the flock out of here back to colder weather and warmer beds.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me, Sarge,” she said. “Now give me another of your ciggies, I’m getting a taste for them.”

  - 11 -

  Banks and Wiggins were driven like sheep, two ridden raptors herding them, the beasts so close that the captain felt hot, fetid breath on the back of his exposed neck. They been stripped to the waist, all weapons removed and cast away somewhere into the dark. He was only thankful they’d been left their boots and trousers for he was feeling exposed enough as it was without being paraded around naked for all to see. They were taken out of the empty streets and back to the large gate. Once there, they were winched up on top and unceremoniously bundled down the other side into the town they’d left just an hour or so earlier.

  The townspeople had risen en-masse to see what their chief had caught. They, adults and children alike, lined the area around the gate three deep on either side. But they made no noise, a silence that was almost respectful. Banks felt like he was on parade.

  “Chin up, lad,” he said to Wiggins. “We’ve seen worse.”

  But when they were led into another open central area lit by flickering firebrands to see their captor sitting high on a stone throne flanked on either side by a guard of ridden raptors, Banks found it hard to maintain any kind of optimism.

  The feathered man stood and raised his hands. The silence became even deeper.

  “You will be tested when the sun rises,” he said directly to Banks. “Until then, you are guests. You will be bathed and clothed. Then I will see that you are brought to my chamber where we shall talk further over a meal. You will not be harmed.”

  And with that, the man turned and left, the honor guard following behind him. Banks and Wiggins were grabbed none too gently and taken to what was obviously a bathhouse. There they had to suffer the ignominy of being stripped and were washed roughly with hard, brittle brushes that left their skin raw and bleeding from many tiny scrapes and cuts. Clothes, local style, were provided; their army issue boots and trousers had gone the way of their weapons. They wore kilts of soft leather, soft shoes of the same material, and a woolen over-shirt cut short at the top of the shoulders and with deep, soft pockets sewn in at the waist. They were left alone to dress although two raptor guards stood just outside the only exit to the chamber; escape, for the moment at least, was a forlorn hope.

  “A kilt and a new semmit,” Wiggins said as he pulled the shirt over his head. “It’s like Christmas. You got a fag, Cap?”

  “Nope. They were in the jacket. We’re going cold turkey for a while.”

  “Bugger. If I get the shakes, just kill me now and get it over with.”

  “Eyes open, lad,” Banks replied. “We need to find a way out of here.”

  “A test in the morning, that’s what he said. I fucking hate exams.”

  “I doubt we’ll be getting multiple-choice questions. As I said, eyes open. You ken the drill—look for weaknesses, exit points, anything that’ll help us get the fuck out of here. We’ll have a confab and share notes when we get a chance.”

  “When. I like the sound of that.”

  “Aye, well if you need any more motivation, the sarge and the younger lads are still out there somewhere. If we don’t save them, maybe they’ll be the ones saving us.”

  “The sarge would never let me live that down.”

  “There you go then. Find us a way out of here, Wiggo, or the sarge will have your balls in a basket for ever more.”

  Their conversation was interrupted as soon as Banks pulled his wool vest over his head. Two of the local men arrived and by hand gestures and menacing sounds managed to convey to Banks and Wiggins that it was time to get moving again.

  “Where the fuck are we going now?” Wiggins said.

  “An audience with the king, remember?”

  “I remember he mentioned grub. I’m bloody starving.”

  They were led along a series of corridors. The walls were gaudily painted in red ochre frescos and Banks was immediately reminded again of old ruins, Knossos in particular. His growing hunch appeared to be confirmed by one painting in particular which depicted an intricate labyrinth.

  Banks was almost amused at the look on Wiggins’ face when they were shown to a long table to serve themselves from the local idea of a buffet. They couldn’t recognize any of the fruit or vegetables, the bread was dry and hard as stone, and the meat simmering in a cauldron of stew didn’t smell like anything they’d ever encountered.

  “I’m no’ eating any of yon raptor meat, I’ll tell you that for nowt,” Wiggins said.

  “Fear not,” the cultured voice they’d heard before said at their back. “This is a local pig. A bit gamier than pork, less so than boar. I assure you, it is quite delicious. And as for eating raptor—that is one of the things we must talk about, for it is the reason you are in your current predicament.”

  They were left in silence to each fill a wooden platter with food, Wiggins less eagerly than Banks, and then were directed to an antechamber where the king sat in a large chair at the head of an otherwise empty table. Two men armed with short swords stood behind him. The leader saw Banks looking and laughed softly.

  “No doubt the pair of you could take down the three of us here,” he said. “But I assure you there are four riders outside the main door and no other exit. You may as well enjoy your food, for you are not going anywhere until dawn.”

  Wiggins, once he got started, took to the food with gusto, but Banks only picked at his.

  “Ask questions if you have them. I will try to answer,” the king said.

  Banks got the one at the front of his mind out of the way first.

  “You’re Minoan, aren’t you?”

  The king clapped his hands as if in glee.

  “Give that man a cigar,” he said and much to Wiggins’ delight produced the captain’s cigarettes and lighter and passed them each a smoke. The king lit one for himself and sucked at it greedily. “A nasty habit and one I broke soon after leaving your country but one won’t hurt.”

  “Aye, that’s what I said when I was sixteen,” Wiggins said. “Now I’m a walking chimney.”

  The king ignored Wiggins and kept his attention on Banks.

  “Yes, we are, or rather were, Minoan in some distant past. A seafaring people finding a great river and following it to a place of wonder where they stayed and were lost to history.”

  The next question was the obvious one.

  “So, if your people are lost to history, where did you learn English?”

  That got them a laugh again.

  “Marlborough, then London University,” he replied. “As I said, we are not savages. Several of my people have been to your places of learning, courtesy of a missionary outpost that first took an interest in us over a century ago. Of course, we have never let your culture contaminate ours.”

  “Of course,” Wiggins replied, showing the king his cigarette.

  “Minor things, quickly forgotten when put against the majesty of Mokele-Mbembe.”

  And just like that the conversation had turned from the mundane to the unknown. Banks decided he was on a roll and pushed another question.

  “The raptors that your people ride? They are Mokele-Mbembe?”

  That got them fits of laughter that turned to coughing as the king tried to inhale smoke and laugh at the same time. He laughed so hard it was impossible for Banks not to see what he’d suspected since their first encounter; the king of these people was not quite sane.

  When the man had recovered, he stubbed out the cigarette forcibly before continuing.

  “No, sir, Mokele-Mbembe is, was and always will be. He is in the jungle and in the river
and here…” he thumped at his chest.

  “Ah,” Wiggins said. “Just another sky fairy, then?”

  “Be careful, sir,” the king said, deathly still and serious. “You have already offended him and he is at his most vicious when offended.”

  “I have already gathered that we have given some offence,” Banks said, aiming for diplomacy. “If that is the case, I can only apologize. We were not aware…”

  “‘Ignorance of the law is no excuse,’ isn’t that the phrase you use back home?” the king said. “You allied yourself with the people who ate of the flesh of the chosen. You have indeed offended. And for that you will face the test with the coming of the sun. Eat well, gentlemen. Consider it the last meal of condemned men.”

  Banks’ mind was racing, making connections where he hadn’t seen them before.

  “The flesh of the chosen? You mean the thing we found in the pot in the village.”

  “Careful, sir,” the king said. “You are close to blasphemy again.”

  “So, raptors are not Mokele-Mbembe, but they are the chosen, and eating them is taboo? Have I got that right?”

  The king nodded.

  “That is why the villagers were sacrificed last night, why the WHO people were sent over the gate…and why you will face the test.”

  “And this wee test,” Wiggins said. “Will we ken if we pass or fail?”

  The king laughed again, a bellow that echoed around them.

  “Oh, I assure you, gentlemen, you will know.”

  - 12 -

  Hynd couldn’t wait any longer. It was still almost an hour before dawn would break but the night had been deathly quiet and he’d expected some noise if the cap and Wiggo were still free men. He was going to have to find them but his first priority was to get these people up and out of the crater and away onto the river as soon as possible.

  “Wilko,” he said, turning to the young private who was sitting in the cave mouth nursing a mug of coffee. “Are you up for another spot of climbing? I need a path out of here and I need it yesterday.”

  “Nae bother, sarge. Can I take the civilian with me? He helped no end yesterday.”

  The WHO worker was already at Wilkins’ side.

  “I’m game,” he said. “As long as your man takes the lead; he’s a better climber than I am.”

  “Make it so,” Hynd said and stood aside as the two men left the cave. Once he heard them scrambling above him, he went back down the slope to the ledge above the clearing. Looking down, he had about enough light to make out the corpse of the raptor below him. There was movement down there in the dark. He chanced putting on his gun light and aimed down. Four pairs of eyes reflected back at him; a hyena pack taking advantage of the remains. Beyond that in a ring around the carcass as if waiting their turn danced a whole flock of vultures, heads bobbing, legs stomping in anticipation.

  “The circle of life,” a voice said at his ear, nearly causing him to topple off the ledge. It was Debs and she’d got to his side as silent as a cat in the night.

  “Bloody hell, lass,” Hynd said. “If you’d been the enemy, I’d be a goner. Where did you learn to creep around like that?”

  “Natural sneakiness, I suppose, and three vicious big brothers that I learned to avoid. And thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “I haven’t been called a lass in many years,” she replied, smiling again.

  Before Hynd could wonder if something was starting here, there was a louder movement in the foliage. He immediately switched off his light and tried to peer in the direction of the sound. Debs put a hand on his arm and a finger at his lips but he didn’t need to be told. Whatever was out there was heavier than a hyena and didn’t give a fuck if anybody heard it coming. From what he knew of this place, that probably meant another of the raptors.

  That’s what he was prepared for so he almost dropped his rifle in surprise when a raptor did indeed break into the clearing. The reason for his shock was that this one was saddled and bridled and had a rider sitting tall on its shoulders, so tall that he wasn’t far below Hynd’s feet.

  The rider’s eyes locked with his. Dawn was getting closer, giving enough light in the sky that they could clearly see each other. The raptor rider had got as much of a surprise as Hynd. They moved at the same time. Hynd reached for his rifle, the rider reached for a horn at his waist. Hynd was faster; he couldn’t allow an alarm to be raised and their position to be given away. It took three shots, one in the head for the rider and two in the skull of the raptor before it realized it was dead.

  The hyena pack was moving back in even as Hynd led the woman back up the slope in the dark.

  He spent the whole of the short climb back to the cave expecting calumny to be raised, but there were no answering shouts, no sound of any approach. If his shots had been heard, nobody appeared to have taken any note of them.

  “What do we do now?” Debs whispered when they reached the cave mouth. “They know where we are.”

  “I don’t think they do,” Hynd replied, calmly lighting a new cigarette for each of them. “Did you see the way he looked at me? He came upon us completely by accident. They don’t know we’ve made a climb. The cave here is well obscured from below and if anyone does turn up looking for yon rider, all they’re going to find is the dogs; they’re doing a better job of obscuring the evidence than I ever could. The plan stays the same. Wilkins will find us a way out and we’ll be gone with the sun. But I’ve got a bone to pick with you, lass.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You never told me yon beasties were domesticated.”

  “I mentioned it last night, and you never took me up on it. I assumed you’d seen one for yourself. They use them as guards on the other side of the gate as well as in here. We saw several on the way in ourselves. Does it make a difference?”

  “It might. It means we need to expect more intelligence in anything that comes against us if there’s a man driving.”

  “From what I’ve seen, the things are pretty smart all on their own.”

  “Maybe,” Hynd replied. “But no’ smart enough to avoid being domesticated in the first place.”

  “Especially for something that’s supposed to be extinct. It doesn’t seem to have fazed you in the slightest though. I would have thought seeing a dinosaur would have thrown you; it gave all of us the screaming heebie-jeebies when we first saw one. So why not you?”

  Hynd smiled thinly.

  “There’s stories I could tell you, lass. Let’s just say that my wee pal Wiggo calls us fucking monster magnets and leave it at that for now. When we get out of here, you can buy me a pint and I’ll tell you some tales.”

  “You’ve got a date, Sarge,” she said and touched his arm lightly before heading deeper into the cave.

  Now he wasn’t wondering at all. Something was definitely starting here. Now all he had to do was make sure he got them all out of here so that he could find out where it might lead.

  Like much else in Hynd’s experience in the service, his plan didn’t go the way he wanted it to. A small tumble of scree and pebbles from above was the first sign of Wilkins’ return. Hynd noted that there was already enough light to see the private’s grim expression when he turned up at the cave mouth.

  “It’s a no-go, Sarge,” he said. “Your man here with me damn near got himself killed twice and he’s a bloody good climber. I might, just might, manage to get up over the top on my own but I wouldn’t want to try it without ropes. And there’s no way in hell we’re getting these people out that way. You and Davies would never make it never mind them.”

  Davies spoke up from deeper in the cave.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence anyway, Wilko. It’s nice to be appreciated.”

  “It’s not meant to be a slight,” the private replied. “Just stating a fact. It’s something even serious climbers would turn away from as too risky. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “I hear you, lad,” Hynd replied. “I don’t have to like it b
ut I hear you.”

  “Where does that leave us, Sarge?” Davies said.

  “Up shit creek again. We’re going to have to go back down to the jungle, make for the gate, and fight our way out.”

  “We could wait here,” a voice from the back said. “You said there were more of you.”

  “There are, but they’re no’ psychic,” Hynd replied. “They don’t know where we are, we don’t know where they are. The captain kens better than to be blundering about in the dark. My bet is that he’s somewhere around the gate waiting for us to head back that way.”

  “How do you know that?” the same voice said from the darkness.

  “Because it’s what I’d do. And the captain taught me most of what I know.”

  He turned to Debs.

  “Get your folk ready,” he said. “We move out in five minutes.”

  - 13 -

  Banks and Wiggins were herded out of the king’s chambers and into an emergent dawn. The king went to the left. They were led right onto a platform that looked out over what looked like a warren of narrow streets of roofless houses built in a concave area, a smaller crater on the outside rim of the larger one beyond. The walls were sculpted into tiers of seating. The population of the town, somewhere around a thousand people at Banks’ guess, lined the lower banks of seats; at one time, if the place had been full, it might have held as many as ten thousand.

  A cheer rang ‘round the natural arena at the appearance of the two men then a louder cheer as all the heads turned to look higher up behind Banks and Wiggins. The king came out onto a high balcony that had another of those impressive stone thrones. He wore a high headdress of multicolored feathers and a cloak of the same draped around his shoulders reached all the way to the ground around him.

  He raised his arms and addressed the people in their own language, his voice carrying easily in what was a naturally amplifying enclosure. There was a lot of cheering.