Stratton ducked beneath his new shelter, lay on his sleeping bag and watched Louisa to see how long it would take for her to react. He did not have to wait long. She had fallen into a deep sleep but the large raindrops striking her face soon dragged her back out of it. She sat up and looked around as her mind came back into focus.
She looked over at Stratton to see him watching her. He shifted to one side and indicated the space beside him. Louisa did not waste any time dragging up her blanket and saddlebags and scurrying beneath his canopy. Within seconds she was lying back down with her blanket draped over her. She wriggled a little to get comfortable.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
Stratton climbed back into his sleeping bag. ‘First time camping?’ he asked.
‘Yes, actually. I missed out on the Girl Scouts.’
He looked at the water dripping off the edges of the nylon sheet. ‘I always find this nostalgic, lying beneath a piece of canvas in the rain.’
Drips hit the side of Louisa’s blanket and she moved her bedding closer to him, her back against his side.
‘You take to camping naturally,’ Stratton observed.
‘I prefer this to a caravan, pulling into some commercial campsite and plugging into an electricity and water supply.’
‘Good for you.’
‘I suppose this is the best way to start. Get stuck straight in.’
‘Your first camping experience or your first ambush?’
Stratton’s words were food for thought to Louisa. ‘That hasn’t even hit me yet. I can’t even begin to imagine what that will be like.’
Stratton could foresee clearly most of the action that he had planned. He did not need to imagine the outcome, either. He had countless previous examples to draw on and could hear in his head the explosions and see the terrible destruction the claymores would wreak. ‘You’d better prepare yourself. You’re going to see and hear people die and in a bloody awful way.’
‘I thought we were going to be well away from it when it happened.’
‘Haven’t you learned that Steel is little more than a salesman? If we want to ensure that it’s done right we have to be there.’
Louisa should have felt more nervous after hearing that. But she could not properly prepare herself emotionally for something she could not even imagine. ‘Have you ever thought about having a normal life?’
‘Sometimes. Just before the ambush I probably will. Definitely immediately after it.’
‘You’re different from any man I’ve ever known. The men react to you in a way I’ve not seen before. They don’t fear you, yet they know you’re someone to be feared. They want to be like you but they don’t want to be you because they know they cannot.’
The rain fell harder, the drumbeats on the canopy now a constant roll. Louisa turned onto her side to face Stratton, her cheek touching his shoulder. ‘Why is it that I feel safe with you?’ she asked sleepily. ‘I hated you when I first saw you. You represented the worst form of capitalism I could think of.What’s strange is that even now I don’t see anything different about what you do. All that’s changed is how I perceive your motives . . . You’re not interested in money, are you?’
‘No.’
‘I bet you don’t even know what your motives are.’
‘No, I don’t. Not completely.’
‘I should study you more closely,’ she said, drifting off. ‘I’d like to know why you’re like you are and why you do what you do.’
A strand of her hair fell against Stratton’s face. He could smell her. It was pure delight. Her breathing changed its rhythm as she dropped into unconsciousness. Only then did he close his eyes and allow himself to follow her.
When Stratton awoke the rain had ceased. Louisa was snuggled close to him. He looked for a moment at her beautiful face inches from his.
He eased away from her, slid out of his sleeping bag and got to his feet. The other men were still asleep and one of the Indians lay rolled in a ball beneath the banana-leaf shelter. There was no sign of the other.
Stratton walked to the edge of the wood and looked at the valley that spread out before him. The blood-red sun at the far end was setting in a magnificent blaze of colour. He sensed something to his side and turned to see Mohesiwa watching him from a distance. Stratton waved and, to his surprise, the gesture was returned.
He went back to the group and stood over Victor who was still sound asleep. ‘Victor,’ he said, nudging him with his toe.
Victor opened his eyes and within a few seconds remembered where he was. ‘Everything okay?’ he asked quietly as he sat up.
‘We should get going. By the time we get the animals loaded the sun will be gone.’
Victor hawked to clear his throat, spat out the phlegm and got to his feet. ‘I would love a cup of coffee right now,’ he said. ‘I was dreaming of a little café I used to go to in Pau. You know Pau?’
‘I do. I used to parachute there.’
‘Well, I used to drink wine and coffee there, a more civilised occupation but no less dangerous. It was where I met my wife. And where I divorced her. That town had everything.’ Victor got to his feet.
David stirred, yawned and reached across to give his cousin a shake. Both young men got up.
Stratton dismantled his shelter without waking Louisa. He crouched beside her and gently pinched her nostrils together. Her eyes flickered open and he withdrew his hand. ‘You just saved me,’ she said.
‘I did?’
‘I was having the most bizarre dream about the president of Mexico - who I’ve never met.’ She sat up. ‘He asked me to marry him. He was repulsive and started to chase me.’
‘It must be these woods,’ Stratton said, closing up his pack. ‘Victor was dreaming about his ex-wife.’
‘I heard that,’ Victor called out as he saddled his horse. ‘I was dreaming about drinking coffee in the town where my ex-wife lives. She was a beautiful woman, actually. And she truly loved me at one time. Love is one of life’s gifts that few really experience. I hope you discover what I mean one day,’ he scoffed.
The group ate a light breakfast of bread, bananas and wild canistels, an eggfruit that the Indians had supplied, and within a short while they were mounted and heading out of the forest into the valley.
They were soon in complete darkness, following a winding goat track up the side of a steep, rocky hill that Victor had referred to as a ‘goddamned mountain’ when he first saw it. But the size of such things is always deceptive at night and within an hour they had reached the top.
Stratton halted them short of the ridge line in order to find a place to cross over without exposing their silhouettes. A road ran along the valley floor on the other side and they had to assume that it was patrolled by government soldiers.
They followed the ridge for some distance before Stratton ordered a dismount and they passed through a narrow cut, emerging the other side to find themselves overlooking another and much larger valley. They could see none of its features in the darkness but according to the map a small river meandered along the bottom alongside a tarmac highway.
They weren’t far from the ambush site now and they stayed on foot down the steep, rocky incline, Kebowa and Mohesiwa sticking close by. The group had not gone far when a light appeared at one end of the valley. They stopped to watch what was obviously a vehicle on the road. As it drew closer the gentle rumble of its engine could be heard. The headlights suddenly began to flicker, strobe-like, as they passed behind something. At the same time the sound of heavy-duty wheels driving over a metal grid drowned out the noise of the engine.
‘The bridge,’ Victor said.
The truck’s red tail lights glowed as it headed down the valley and disappeared out of sight.