Craig had walked down that slope himself looking for giveaway signs, all his old training in the Rhodesian police coming back to him, looking for litter or disturbed vegetaion, for the shine of metal, for footprints on the white t sandbanks of the river or the verge of the road, and he had found no give-away signs.
"We must do it now," said Sarah. She and her sisters were squatting behind the rock at his side. She was right it was too late to alter anything, to make any other rrangements. They were committed.
a "Go," he told her and she stood up and let the denim drop to the sand. Quickly shirt slip off her shoulders and her younger sisters followed her example, letting drop their loin-cloths as they stood.
All four of them were naked, except for the tiny beaded aprons suspended from their waists by a string of beads.
The aprons hung down over their mons pubis but bounced up revealingly with every movement as they ran down to the water's edge. Their plump young buttocks were bared, swelling enticingly below the hour-glass nip of their waists.
Tough!" Craig called after them. "Play games." They were totally unashamed of their nudity. In the rural areas the beaded apron was still the traditional casual dress of the unsophisticated unmarried Matabele girl. Even Sarah had worn it until she had gone in to the town to begin her schooling.
They splashed each other. The water sparkled on the il glossy dark skins, and their laughter had an excited, breathless quality that must attract any man. Yet, Craig saw that his guerrillas were unaffected. They had not even Is turned their heads to watch. They were professions at4 work, all their attention focused on the dangerous job in hand.
The lead truck crested the far rise. It was a five, ton Toyota, similar to the one that had pursued them across the Botswana border, It was painted the same sandy colour.
There was a trooper behind the ring-mounted heavy machine-gun on the cab. A second truck, heavily laden and armed, came over the rise behind it.
"Not a third. Please, only two," Craig breathed, and cuddled the butt of the AK 47 into his shoulder. The barrel was festooned with dried grass to disguise its shape, and his own face and hands were thickly smeared with black clay from the river-bank.
There were only two ti -ucks. They came trundling out onto the causeway and Sarah and her sisters stood knee deep in the green waters below the handrail of the bridge and waved to them. The lead truck slowed, and the girls swung their hips, shrieked with provocative laughter and joggled their wet and shiny breasts.
There were two men in the cab of the lead truck, One was a subaltern, Craig could make out his cap, badge and the glitter of his shoulder pips even through the dusty windscreen. He was grinning and his teeth were almost as bright as his badges. He spoke to the driver and, with a squeal of brakes, the lead truck pulled up on the threshold of the bridge. The second truck was forced to pull up behind it.
The young officeroo ned the door and stood on the Pc running board. The'troopers in the back of the truck and the heavy machinegunner craned forward, grinning and calling ribald comment. The girls, following Sarah's example, sank down coyly to cover their lower bodies and answered the suggestions and comments with dissembling coyness. Some of the troopers in the second truck, not to be out-done, jumped down and came forward to join the.
fun.
One of the older girls made a slyly obscene gesture ith w thumb and forefinger and there was an appreciative bellow of raunchy masculine laughter from the bank. The young officer replied with an even more specific gesture, and the rest of his troopers left the trucks and crowded up behind him. Only the two heavy machine gunners were still at their posts.
Craig darted a glance at the underside of the bridge. On their bellies the bowmen were wriggling up the far side of bank, keeping the timber baulks of the bridge between the them and the bunch of troopers.
In the river Sarah stood up. She had loosened the string of her apron, and now carried the minuscule garment in her hand, swinging it with artful provocation. She waded towards the men on the bank, with the water swirling around her thighs, and the laughter choked off as they stared at her. She walked slowly, the pull of water exaggerating the churning movement of her pelvis. She was sleek A and beautiful as a wet otter, the sunlight on her body gave it a plastic sheen, an unearthly glow, and even from where he lay, Craig could feel the jocular mood of the men watching her thicken with lust, and begin to steam with the stirring of sexual fury.
Sarah paused below them, cupped her hands under her breasts and lifted them, pointing her nipples up at them.
Now they were totally concentrated upon her, even the machine-gunners high up on the ring mounts of the trucks were rapt and enchanted.
Behind them the four bowmen had slid up under the lee of the causeway. They were not more than ten paces from the side of the leading truck as they came up onto their knees in unison and drew. The bows arched, their right hands came back to touch their lips, wet muscle bulged in their backs as they sighted along the shafts, and then one after the other they let their arrows fly.
There was no sound, not even the softest fluting, but the of the machine-gunners slid gently forward and hung Over the side of the cab with head and arms dangling. The other arched his back, his mouth wide open but no sound coming from it, and tried to reach back over his own shoulder to the shaft that stood stiffly out between his shoulder-blades. Another arrow hit him, a hand's breadth lower, and he convulsed in agony and dropped from view.
n-Le bowmen changed their target and the silent arrows flew into the bunch of troopers on the river-bank and a man screamed. In the same instant the guerrillas hiding below the bank burst from the water, and went up through the reeds, just as the troopers whirled to face the bowmen.