“Cut the switch,” I called to Mitzy.
I went over to be sure, jumped for the rail, hauled myself aboard and followed the holes traced by my machine gun. Sure enough, the fuel line was cut. Worse, the tank was punctured and dry. I stood looking down, feeling a heavy sag. No fuel, no power. No power, no patrol boat. We were back on the rock and there was no way — no way — to get off.
The girl yelled from the pilot house. “The soldiers, Nick. They’re running away.”
They were. I tossed a Luger shell in front of them. They stopped, waiting with hunched shoulders for a shot in the back. I dropped over the side and splashed to them. There was no use holding them any longer but I wanted the ammo they were wearing. I shoved them on to dry land, waving Mitzy after us. When she came up, I let her cover one man while I stripped boots and trousers off the other. I knotted the cuffs, filled the pants with bullets, cinched the waist tight with the belt and slung the legs around my neck.
“Turn them loose now,” I told the girl. “We don’t need them with the boat out of fuel and they can’t do any more damage at this point. Two more or less won’t make any difference.” I waved them away.
They didn’t need urging. When they were gone, the girl and I hiked to the fortress, climbed the hill behind it and went in through the gate.
Inside Noah had a supper fire going and fish broiling over the coals. My stomach reminded me how many meals it had missed. My back told me it had enough too. Although there was another job to do before dark, there was still a long twilight to come and time for a breather.
I made it to one of the rooms, got my heavy packet off and sank to the stone floor, letting the tension run out. Mitzy would tell where we’d been.
She brought me rum from somewhere, hot fish and fruits. I didn’t know how high she was on David Hawk’s list, but if some feat of magic pulled us out of this, I meant to go to bat for her. She deserved a special medal.
Twelve
It was time to destroy the steps. They were no use to us any longer, now that escape by sea was out.
Obliterating such an archeological treasure was a step I hated to take, but it was too dangerous an access into the fortress. We would hear cars coming on the shore road and the mountain trail, but Jerome could send rowboats in the dark and slip his men up from the cove before we discovered them. There were too few of us to keep watch on all fronts.
There was pain in Noah’s eyes when I told him what had to be done.
I opened the last box of dynamite, took out two sticks, caps and a length of fuse, and paused before the old patriarch.
“It hurts me too, Noah. If we get out of this alive, I promise you AXE will build you new stairs.”
I took the machine gun down with me to the third lowest step, shot holes through the hard limestone crust and into the softer stuff that hadn’t oxidized, placed the charges and lit the fuse. I went up on the double and was inside the wall when the explosion came. An avalanche of rubble splashed into the water, then the sound died. The cliff was a sheer drop once more.
That left the two trails to keep an eye on through the night. Dr. Fleming looked well enough so Noah and I could haul him to another mountain when morning came. With the rest of my group joining Noah’s people in hiding, I could sneak into the town, locate Jerome and notch another Killmaster mark on my holster. With the army’s head cut off, things should simmer down and Fleming could be installed as president.
I put it up to Noah, would he go along with my plan? He would. Would he watch the shore road tonight while I took on the back trail? He would. We went down to the fuse and I showed him what it was about, told him the time limits involved and took off in the other direction. So long as the dynamite held, nobody was going to surprise us that night.
Tara declared herself in on the action. “My father sent me to help, you know. And you need rest. Don’t you think I can light matches as well as Mitzy?”
Light matches, yes, but I didn’t know how steady she would be under pressure. Still, her company would take the loneliness out of my vigil. I didn’t really expect an attack in the dark. The colonel’s forces had been bloodied considerably in the first assault. After the loss of the patrol boat, I figured Jerome would sit back, lick his wounds and wait for rescue.
I told the girl I’d take the first watch, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She insisted I needed to relax. She wouldn’t even play games. So I stretched out and went to sleep.
It was daylight when the sun in my eyes brought me awake. I felt whole again except for a dull ache and a lump on my head where the soldier had knocked me out. Tara sat with her back against a tree, awake but drowsy, dark circles halfway down her cheeks. I rolled toward her.
Her voice was hollow. “Nick, I’m sick, my stomach feels awful. It’s been getting worse for the last couple of horns.”
We were under the high arch of trees and shafts of yellow sunlight filtered through the leaves. The air was heavy with shadows. Tara’s skin was green-white and shiny with perspiration. A dull filter glazed her eyes. I picked her up in my arms, running up the hill to the gate. I raced inside shouting for Noah, afraid he was still at his watch. For whatever it was worth, he was the only medicine man in town.
He came in just behind me. I placed Tara gently on the ground, and Noah took over. He touched the glands in her neck, touched her wrist, pried her mouth open caught her hands, holding the palms up. I saw blisters on her fingertips before he let them drop.
I had never seen the old man in such a rush before. He dashed for one of the rooms. I started after him, but before I made it to the door he was back, carrying a mat and an armful of gourds. He dropped the mat, kicked it flat and nodded at me to lay the girl on it. I realized he wanted light and couldn’t waste time lighting torches in the dim rooms.
As I put Tara down, I peeled off her dress. Mitzy was suddenly there, curious as hell, but then she saw the blonde’s bloodless lips and was on her knees to help.
Noah had half a gourd invisible in one big hand, shaking what appeared to be water and yellow soap into a foamy liquid.
“Move back.” His words were sharp. When we did, he lifted Tara’s head, pinched her mouth open, and poured the froth down her throat.
“Manchineel,” he clipped out. “A highly poisonous tree. One taste of its fruit can mean sudden, painful death. Even touching the bark can be dangerous. Just look at this poor child.”
Abruptly, violently Tara retched. Noah propped her against a knee and poured her full again. While she alternately swallowed, choked, and heaved, I remembered what I knew of manchineel. It was pretty bad, just like Noah said.
The old man needed help now. He said, “Pour a little of the mixture on her fingers. Don’t rub them.”
I did that. He whipped her up, hauled her over his knee on her stomach and we saw her back. It too was blistered where she had leaned against the bark of the tree. I dribbled the syrupy liquid over Tara’s body and heard a sigh of relief from the old man.
“None of them broken. All right. She will be all right.”
The convulsions eased off. Tara lay limply on the ground. Noah set down the soap mix, reached for other gourds, made a thick emulsion of white powder and what looked like honey, turned the girl and poured that into her. Then he laid her on her side.
“Now you.” He stood up, examined my hands, unfastened my shirt and skinned it off inside out. I had carried her. The cloth was contaminated. He anointed my hands and his own with whatever the neutralizing agent was, giving me a rueful smile. “I should have warned you. Most of the jungle is a friend but a few things are not. Will you take one end of the mat — we will carry her into the shade now.”