pdouglas.thecodex-第29章

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d　passed　directly　through　the　heart。　It　was　amazing　he　had　lived　for　even　a　few　seconds　after　a　wound　like　that。
　Tom　glanced　up　at　Chori。　The　man　had　an　expression　on　his　face　that　was　absolutely　cold。
　〃I'm　sorry。〃
　Don　Alfonso　said；　〃There　is　no　time　to　be　sorry。　We　must　go。〃
　〃And　leave　the　body　here？〃
　〃Chori　will　stay　with　it。〃
　〃But　the　soldiers　are　surely　ing…〃
　Don　Alfonso　cut　him　off。　〃Yes。　And　Chori　must　do　what　he　must　do。〃　He　turned　to　Sally。　〃You　keep　his　gun　and　ammunition。　We　will　not　see　Chori　again。　Let　us　go。〃
　〃We　can　t　leave　him　here！〃　Tom　protested。
　Don　Alfonso　grabbed　Tom's　shoulders。　His　hands　were　surprisingly　strong；　like　steel　clamps。　He　spoke　quietly　but　with　intensity。　〃Chori　has　unfinished　business　with　his　brother's　killers。〃
　〃Without　a　gun？〃　Sally　asked　as　Chori　took　out　of　his　leather　bag　a　tattered　box　of　ammunition　and　handed　it　to　her。
　〃Silent　arrows　are　more　effective　in　the　jungle。　He　will　kill　enough　of　them　to　die　with　honor。　This　is　our　way。　Do　not　interfere。〃　Without　a　backward　glance　Don　Alfonso　turned；　swiped　his　machete　across　a　wall　of　vegetation；　and　plunged　through　the　opening。　They　followed；　struggling　to　keep　up　with　the　old　man；　who　moved　with　the　speed　and　silence　of　a　bat。　Tom　had　no　idea　where　they　were　heading。　They　walked　for　hours　up　and　down　ravines；　wading　swift　streams；　at　times　hacking　their　way　through　dense　stands　of　bamboo　or　ferns。　Biting　ants　rained　down　on　them　and　crawled　down　their　shirts；　and　several　times　Don　Alfonso　impaled　small　snakes　with　his　machete　and　flicked　them　aside。　It　rained　briefly　and　they　were　soaked。
　The　sun　came　out　and　they　steamed。　Clouds　of　insects　followed　them；　biting　viciously。　Nobody　spoke。　No　one　could　speak。　It　was　all　they　could　do　to　keep　up。
　Hours　later；　when　the　light　began　to　die　in　the　treetops；　Don　Alfonso　halted。　Without　a　word　he　sat　on　a　fallen　tree　trunk；　fished　out　his　pipe；　and　lit　it。　Tom　watched　the　match　flare　up　and　wondered　how　many　more　they　had。　They　had　lost　almost　everything　with　the　burning　of　the　boats。
　〃What　now？〃　Vernon　asked。
　〃We　camp；〃　said　Don　Alfonso。　He　pointed　with　his　machete。　〃Make　a　fire。　There。〃
　Vernon　got　to　work　and　Tom　helped。
　Don　Alfonso　pointed　his　machete　at　Sally。　〃You：　Go　hunting。　You　may　be　a　woman；　but　you　shoot　like　a　man　and　you　have　the　courage　of　a　man。〃
　Tom　looked　at　Sally。　Her　face　was　smudged；　her　long　blond　hair　in　tangles；　the　gun　slung　over　her　shoulder。　He　could　see　in　her　face　everything　he　was　feeling：　the　shock　and　surprise　of　the　attack；　horror　at　the　death　of　Pingo；　dread　at　the　loss　of　all　their　supplies；　determination　to　survive。　She　nodded　and　went　off　into　the　forest。
　Don　Alfonso　looked　at　Tom。　〃You　and　I　will　build　a　hut。〃
　
　An　hour　later；　night　had　fallen。　They　were　sitting　around　the　fire；　eating　the　last　of　a　stew　made　from　a　large　rodent　Sally　had　shot。　A　small　thatched　hut　sat　nearby；　and　Don　Alfonso　sat　in　front　of　a　pile　of　palm　leaves；　stripping　them　and　weaving　them　into　hammocks。　He　had　been　silent　except　for　giving　terse　orders。
　〃Who　were　those　soldiers？〃　Tom　asked　Don　Alfonso。
　Don　Alfonso　busied　himself　over　the　hammocks。　〃Those　were　the　soldiers　who　came　upriver　with　your　other　brother　Philip。〃
　〃Philip　would　never　permit　an　attack　on　us；〃　said　Vernon。
　〃No；〃　said　Tom。　He　felt　his　heart　sink。　There　must　have　been　a　mutiny　on　Philip's　expedition；　or　something　else　had　happened。　At　any　rate；　Philip　must　be　in　grave　danger…if　not　already　dead。　The　unknown　enemy；　therefore；　had　to　be　Hauser。　He　was　the　one　who　had　killed　the　two　policemen　in　Santa　Fe；　who　had　arranged　for　their　capture　in　Brus；　who　was　behind　this　most　recent　attack　on　them。
　〃The　question；〃　Sally　said；　〃is　whether　we　go　on　or　go　back。〃
　Tom　nodded。
　〃It'd　be　suicide　to　go　on；〃　Vernon　said。　〃We've　got　nothing…no　food；　no　clothes；　no　tents；　sleeping　bags；　or　food。〃
　〃Philip's　up　ahead；〃　said　Tom。　〃And　he's　in　trouble。　It's　pretty　obvious　that　Hauser's　the　one　behind　the　killing　of　the　two　policemen　in　Santa　Fe。
　There　was　a　silence。　〃Maybe　we　should　go　back；　resupply；　and　return。　We　won't　be　able　to　help　him　like　this；　Tom。〃
　Tom　glanced　at　Don　Alfonso；　plaiting　deftly。　He　sensed　from　the　studiously　neutral　expression　on　the　old　man's　face　that　he　had　an　opinion。　He　always　looked　that　way　when　he　was　about　to　disagree。　〃Don　Alfonso？〃
　〃Yes？〃
　〃Do　you　have　an　opinion？〃
　Don　Alfonso　laid　the　hammock　down　and　rubbed　his　hands　together。　He　looked　Tom　in　the　eye。　〃I　do　not　have　an　opinion。　I　have　instead　a　statement　of　fact。〃
　〃Which　is？〃
　〃Behind　us　is　a　deadly　swamp　in　which　the　water　is　lowering　every　day。　We　have　no　dugout。　It　will　take　a　week　at　least　to　make　another。　But　we　cannot　stay　in　one　place　for　a　week；　because　the　soldiers　will　find　us；　and　the　manufacture　of　a　dugout　creates　clouds　of　smoke；　which　will　be　a　signpost　for　all　to　see。　So　we　must　keep　moving；　on　foot；　through　the　jungle；　toward　the　Sierra　Azul。　To　go　back　is　to　die。　That　is　my　statement　of　fact。〃
　
　34
　
　Marcus　Hauser　sat　on　a　log　by　the　fire；　Churchill　in　his　mouth；　field…stripping　the　Steyr　AUG。　The　weapon　didn't　need　it；　but　for　Hauser　it　was　a　repetitive　physical　process　that　was　almost　a　form　of　meditation。　The　rifle　was　mostly　made　of　finely　machined　plastic；　which　Hauser　liked。　He　retracted　the　cocking　slide　knob；　grasped　the　barrel　grip　and；　using　his　left　thumb；　pressed　the　barrel　locking　latch　down。　Then　he　rotated　the　barrel　clockwise　and　pulled　it　forward。　It　came　free　with　a　satisfying　smoothness。
　From　time　to　time　he　glanced　into　the　forest　where　Philip　was　chained　up；　but　there　wasn't　a　sound。　He　had　heard　a　jaguar　roaring　earlier　in　the　day；　a　roar　of　frustration　and　hunger；　and　he　didn't　want　his　prisoner　getting　eaten；　at　least　not　before　he　had　figured　out　where　old　Max　had　gone。　He　heaped　some　more　wood　on　the　fire　to　beat　back　the　darkness　and　the　prowling　jaguar。　To　his　right；　the　Macaturi　River　slid　past　the　camp；　making　soft　splashing　and　gurgling　noises　as　it　eddied　and　flowed。　It　was　a　beautiful　night　for　a　change；　the　velvety　sky　dusted　with　stars；　which　were　reflected　as　faint　dancing　lights　in　the　surface　of　the　river。　It　was　close　to　two　o'clock　in　the　morning；　but　Hauser　was　one　of　those　fortunates　who　needed　only　four　hours　of　sleep　a　night。
　He　chucked　another　log　on　the　fire　to　increase　the　light　and　slid　the　bolt　assembly　out　of　the　receiver。　His　hand　lightly　caressed　the　smooth　pieces　of　plastic　and　metal…one　warm；　the　other　cold…and　he　savored　the　scent　of　gun　oil　and　the　clicks　of　the　well…machined　parts　as　they　disengaged。　A　few　more　well…practiced　moves　and　the　rifle　lay　in　front　of　him；　stripped　to　its　six　basic　parts。　He　hefted　each　piece；　examining　it；　cleaning　it；　running　his　hands　over　it…and　began　putting　them　back　together。　He　worked　slowly；　dreamily　even：　no　boot…camp　haste　here。
　He　heard　a　faint　sound：　the　whine　of　the　returning　boats。　He　paused；　listening　carefully。　The　operation　had　concluded；　and　the　men　were　back　right　on　time。　Hauser　was　pleased。　Not　even　a　half…assed　group　of　Honduran　soldiers　could　have　screwed　up　such　a　straightforward　op。
　Or　could　they？　He　saw；　materializing　out　of　the　dark　body　of　the　river；　the　dugout；　but　with　three　instead　of　five　soldiers　in　it。　The　boat　docked　at　the　large　boulder　that　served　as　a　landing　stage。　Two　men　hopped　out；　firelit　forms　moving　against　the　darkness；　and　helped　a　third　man　out。　He　walked　stiffly；　and　Hauser　heard　a　groan　of　pain。　Three　men…and　he　had　sent　out　five。
　He　refitted　the　butt　plate；　slid　the　bolt　assembly　back　in；　and　reset　the　housing　latch　to　the　left；　working　by　feel；　his　eyes　fixed　on　the　figures　moving　toward　the　fire。　The　men　approached　diffidently；　nervously；　one　soldier　supporting　his　wounded　colleague。　A　three…foot…long　arrow　had　passed　through　his　thigh；　the　feathered　end　sticking　out　the　back；　the　barbed　metal　point　out　the　front。　The　pantleg　had　been　torn　and　was　stiff　with　dried　blood。
　The　men　paused；　saying　nothing；　looking　mostly　at　the　ground；　shuffling　their　feet　in　shame。　Hauser　waited。　The　enormity　of　his　mistake…in　trusting　these　men　to　perform　the　simplest　of　ops…was　now　obvious。　He　went　back　to　reassembling　his　gun；　rotating　the　barrel　back　into　place　and　then　reseating　the　magazine；　sliding　it　into　the　stock　with　a　click。　Then　he　waited；　weapon　laid　across　his　knees；　an　icy　feeling　in　his　heart。
　The　silence　was　excruciating。　One　of　them　would　have　to　speak。
　〃Jefe…〃　the　lieutenant　began。
　He　waited　for　the　excuses。
　〃We　killed　two　of　them；　jefe；　and　burned　their　boats　and　supplies。　Their　bodies　are　in　the　canoe。〃
　Hauser　said；　after　a　pause；　〃Which　two？〃
　There　was　a　nervous　pause。　〃The　two　Tawahka　Indians。〃
　Hauser　remained　silent。　This　was　a　disaster。
　〃The　old　man　with　them　saw　the　trap　before　we　could　open　fire；〃　the　teniente　went　on。　〃They　turned　around。　We　chased　them　downstream；　but　they　managed　to　land　and　escape　into　the　jungle。　We　burned　their　boats　and　supplies。　Then；　as　we　pursued　them　into　the　jungle；　we　were　ambushed　by　one　of　the　Tawahka。　He　had　a　bow　and　arrow；　so　much　the　worse　for　us。　We　couldn't　locate　him　until　he　got　two　of　us　and　wounded　the　third；　and　then　we　killed　him。　You　know　how　these　jungle　Indians　are；　jefe；　silent　as　jaguars　。。。〃
　His　voice　trailed　off　miserably。　He　shifted　nervously；　and　the　man　with　the　arrow　through　his　thigh　let　escape　an　involuntary　groan。
　〃So　you　see；　jefe；　we　killed　two　and　drove　the　others　into　the　jungle　with　no　supplies；　no　food；　nothing；　where　they　will　surely　die…〃
　Hauser　rose。　〃Excuse　me；　Teniente；　this　man　needs　immediate　attention。〃
　〃Si；　se？or。〃
　With　the　rifle　in　one　hand；　Hauser　rose　and　put　his　free　arm　around　the　wounded　man；　easing　him　off　the　soldier　who　had　been　supporting　him。　He　leaned　over　and　said　gently；　〃e　with　me。　Let　me　take　care　of　you。〃
　The　teniente　waited　by　the　fire；　his　face　sagging。
　Hauser　supported　the　man　and　led　him　away　from　the　fire。　The　man　groaned；　limping。　His　skin　was　hot　and　dry；　he　had　a　fever。
　〃Easy；〃　said　Hauser。　〃We'll　just　take　you　over　here　and　fix　you　up。〃　He　led　the　man　about　fifty　yards　into　the　darkness　beyond　the　camp…fire　and　eased　him　down　on　a　log。　The　man　staggered；　groaned；　but　with　Hauser's　help　was　able　to　sit　on　the　log。　Hauser　removed　the　man's　machete。
　〃Se？or；　before　you　cut　out　the　arrow；　give　me　whiskey。〃　The　man　whimpered；　terrified　of　pain。
　〃This　won't　take　but　a　second。〃　He　gave　the　man　a　gentle　pat　on　the　shoulder。　〃We'll　have　you　fixed　up　in　no　time。　I　promise　you；　the　operation　will　be　painless。〃
　〃No；　se？or；　please；　whiskey　first　。。。〃
　Hauser　bent　over　the　arrow　with　the　machete。　The　man　stiffened；　gritting　his　teeth；　staring　at　the　machete　in　terror　and　noticing　nothing　else。　Meanwhile；　Hauser　raised　the　muzzle　of　the　Steyr　AUG　to　within　an　inch　of　the　back　of　the　man's　head。　He　eased　the　trigger　back　to　full　auto　fire　and　squeezed　off　a　short　burst。　The　fire　struck　the　man　obliquely；　the　force　of　it　throwing　him　backward　off　the　log　where　he　landed；　sprawled　head　down；　unmoving。　All　was　then　silent。
　Hauser　returned　to　camp；　washed　his　hands；　and　reseated　himself　by　the　fire。　He　picked　up　the　half…smoked　Churchill　and