Distant Annihilation. (Tarquin Collingwood Adventures Book 1) (12 page)

I finished my mouthful and turned to the Sergeant, “I’m tired - Ich bin mude,” I repeated in German and hoped that would be the end of it.

“Tired? Tired....,” he said derisively, “You tire easily Englishman. You will not last to even see the Bactria Valley. You will do no fighting, except against the cold,” he got up with his unfinished meal and left with a look of disgust upon his face. I resolved there and then that were he to give me any more insolence I would cut him down and damn the consequences.

I went to bed where I made full use of all the duvets and blankets to keep warm and pulled them over my head keeping my Glock close to me and fell fast asleep. I was suddenly awoken and heard a commotion outside my tent. I looked at my Breitling - it was 23.07hrs. I put on my shoes and went outside with my Glock. I saw one of the attendants speaking to a concerned looking Major outside his tent. The attendant then ran off with his rifle.

“What’s wrong?” I demanded.

“There’s a small caravan approaching,” the Major replied.

I furrowed my eyebrows.

“I chose this spot because it’s remote and now some camels and wagons have been spotted coming straight towards us. Our enemies may know of our presence.....” explained the Major.

“Or it may just be an innocent caravan party,” I suggested.

“What here? Impossible! We cannot take any risks! Take cover,” he ordered.

Just then Mueller appeared armed to the teeth, to whom the Major started barking orders in German. I went and hid behind the Toyota with Ismail who was also armed. I looked out at the wilderness and could see something moving towards us coming out of the darkness. As my eyes adjusted I could make it out as a camel with a rider. The camel rider was leading other camels which were rider less and then behind the camels there were two camel drawn wagons, with men driving them. As they got closer I could hear a sound. I listened and deduced they were the sound of trinkets and bells on the wagons. This was clearly no raiding party or group of assassins. Just then one of the camp attendants left the camp carrying a machine gun and gesticulated with it to the camel rider, shouting to him. The convoy stopped and the two spoke
. The camel rider looked nervous as he was aggressively questioned. This went on for a moment and then one of the two men sitting on the first wagon got down and walked disarmingly towards the attendant, talking and laughing trying to appease him. In the poor light I could make out that he was in his late forties and fat. The Major approached them, gun in hand. The fat man was trying to ingratiate himself with the Major and the three of them at the fat man’s instigation began walking towards the wagons. My curiosity got the better of me; I got up from behind the Toyota and caught up with them. The fat man led us to the rear of the first wagon where he grabbed the canvas that concealed the back of the wagon – he paused before making his denouement. At this point I had no idea what had been said between them. Suddenly in a flourish the fat man swept back the canvas and what it revealed caused me to take in a sharp intake of breath. Von Weizsacker and the attendant were equally stunned.

A group of women, ostentatiously clad with jewellery and brightly coloured shawls was revealed. They were frightened and recoiled covering their faces. We stared at each other for a moment and the fat man attempted to calm the women and reassure them. As I looked I could see that despite their attempts to cover their faces they were all young. The fat man replaced the canvas and we left the wagon and started walking back towards our camp. The attendant inspected the other wagon and reported nothing amiss.

The Major turned to me, “You can put your gun away Captain Collingwood. They are just........courtesans travelling between towns with their escort. That man is their..........” he struggled to find the right word, “....manager.”

I turned to the Major, “I think the terms prostitutes and pimps are nearer the mark.”

“Quite so
,” said the Major, attempting to conceal his embarrassment.

“What’s his name?” I asked referring to the fat man.

“Gulbador Hekmatiar. We can now get a good night’s sleep - we have a long day ahead of us. Good night Collingwood,” said the Major as his path converged towards his tent.

I returned to my tent and prepared to get back into bed feeling weary after such a long day’s travelling. Just as I did so I stopped. Had my brain ceased working? This mission could end in disaster and with it my death. Just a short distance away was a Wagon full of young, beautiful whores versed in the art, if art it be, of giving many a man a pleasurable night. This could be my last chance to get some action between the sheets. Besides on such a cold night a woman was a good way of
keeping warm. Was Tarquin Collingwood seriously to pass up such an opportunity? Where the devil was Ismail I wondered?

Initially Ismail was somewhat nonplussed at my suggestion. But after I assured him that I would make sure that he did not spend the night lonely and cold he agreed. After getting Ismail to arrange everything with Gulbador Hekmatiar, which seemed to make eminent sense given my want of Azaki it was agreed that I would wait in my bed. I kept my clothes on, in case I didn’t like the look of her and would have to turf her out. I only hoped his bargaining skills with the money I had given him for two whores and his taste in women were similar to mine.

A little later, Ismail appeared, using one arm to keep the entrance open and a woman appeared. She entered my tent nervously and Ismail indicated for to her not to be afraid. She was pretty well covered up, as much from the cold as from religious modesty – which I thought difficult to reconcile with her profession. Ismail bid me a Good Night and left, closing the entrance up after him. I approached the girl, exposed her face and then gently put my hand under her chin and tilted her face up towards mine. She was fair, in her twenties and shapely. I saw no point in wasting time - I wanted to achieve several hours sleep after slaking my lust. I grabbed her and kissed her on the mouth. She wriggled in order to break free but I held her fast. She was a whore so I saw no point her feigning virginal reticence. My resolve was that I would have her with or without her consent – afterall, what did I care for the whims of an eastern whore playing hard to get, when I could be dead within days. Besides taking her against her will, might prove an interesting experience and conceivably be my last encounter with the female of the species. I put my hand on her breast as my tongue explored her mouth. She recoiled and made to slap me – I held her hand and in a flourish threw her on the bed and climbed on top of her. It occurred to me that Azaki men might like a good tussle in bed, which is why she was acting as she was; but I for one preferred to make love in bed rather than war. I kissed her all over her face, whilst my hands explored her body. I was ripe with anticipation. There was something to be said for this rough foreplay! Why these oriental whores make this show of reluctance was beyond me. As I carried on remorselessly I discerned a weakening of resistance on her part. Suddenly she had her arms around my neck and was kissing me back. I stopped and ordered her to get undressed. Within seconds we were both utterly naked – it’s amazing how quickly a whore can remove her clothes. Seeing her body only served to increase my desire. Now there was no stopping her; it was as if I had warmed her up and now she was going full throttle. I pulled the bed clothing over us to keep us warm and found my way inside her at which point I began thrusting away for all I was worth. Her body quivered and she sighed, her arms and legs tightened their grip around me. She moaned like a good whore with every one of my pelvic thrusts - such was the ecstasy into which I had placed her. She was utterly insatiable and clearly knew what she was about. I could hardly have been in better hands – literally! If the Major and Mueller were going to pass up such an opportunity than more fool them! As our bodies writhed together for hours I had not a care in the world. I eventually fell asleep after my third encore, doused in the mutual sweat of our exertions, beautifully content and utterly spent.

CHAPTER 15 – CAPTIVES AND THE HUNT.

I woke to the sun shining clearly through the gap in the entrance to my tent. I felt the morning chill as I turned to find my companion of the night had slipped out. Damned bad manners - leaving without saying goodbye! I noted that a quick fumble would have been a sterling way to start the day. I reluctantly arose from bed, got dressed and then washed. Ismail and one of the attendants introduced me to my ride. A light brown Gelding 13 hands high and 4 years old. He looked a fine beast. Ismail loaded my equipment into his saddle bags. Breakfast was announced. We duly gathered around the fire, just as we’d done the previous evening for dinner. The Major and Mueller appeared, both looking dour. I decided to be cheerful given my good fortune of the previous night.

“Good morning!” I beamed.

They looked at me askance, “Yes.......Good morning. You appear to have had a good nights sleep,” the Major said irritably.

“Sleep was not the only thing I got last night,” I replied intriguingly, before turning to Ismail who handed me warm freshly baked leavened bread. Breakfast consisted of dates, dried fruit and some mince meat broth, with which the bread was to be eaten; all washed down with some abominably bad coffee.

As I ate breakfast I looked at our camp surroundings for the first time in daylight. The caravan of whores or courtesans, if you prefer, was still camped a hundred metres away. With the sun still rising and the fresh crisp air at this altitude, there was undoubtedly some ethereal beauty, as the different iridescent colours reflected on the mountains around us in the brightening light as if in some biblical scene. We broke camp soon afterwards. The attendants bade us farewell as we left. There were five of us: I, the Major, Mueller, Aziz and Ismail each with our own horse. Except that the latter two also had a second horse encumbered with baggage which they were leading. Although I hadn’t been in the saddle for a few years, it was as if I’d never left it
, everything came back to me, rather like riding a bicycle.

The Major and I rode side by side as we left camp. “As of now we are alone. No more luxurious camps with servants erecting our tents and preparing our meals,” he advised.

“I must confess I’m good at neither,” I replied.

“Today will be a hard days riding, I hope to reach the Qursani Valley before nightfall,” the Major confided.

“I daren’t ask how long you have been planning this. But I can see that it can hardly have been done better,” I said, attempting to stroke the Major’s ego.

“I merely do my duty and do it well Herr Collingwood,” he said
humourlessly.

As the day wore on we made progress in what was almost unremittingly a desolate and hostile environment. As we rode I noticed again, a plant which seemed to be ubiquitous; for I had also seen it several times yesterday from the window of the Toyota - it was about 2 feet tall with leaves at the bottom and then a single naked stem, at the top of which was a bulbous round ball, topped with a disc like stigma. We were undoubtedly fortunate to be travelling in spring, with the benign conditions that that entailed. Most of the rest of the year it would either be horridly cold with snow, or unconscionably and maddeningly hot. The scenery undulated from gorge, to valley floor, to steep inclines and narrow paths; whilst always accompanied by mountains and escarpments which we were either climbing at the time or could see in the distance.

We stopped after a few hours to rest the horses. Aziz and Ismail did the honours setting up a fire, making tea and tending to the horses. Mueller belatedly helped them after inspecting a pack of munitions. The Major sat a few metres away reading his notebook and checking his map. I was content to do as little as possible whilst I sipped my tea, casually observing our surroundings. I did not feel the least bit guilty at my indolence. It occurred to me that an abundance of energy had been expended in bed last night and that when we swung into action in the Bactria Valley I should need every ounce of energy against Persians, Zhukov and anything else that got in my way. I finished my tea and decided to go for a short walk just to relieve my boredom. There was a small plateau several metres higher than our camp. I climbed up it to have a stroll, and then walked further away from the camp just to get to the end of the plateau from where I appreciated the panoramic views and the complete silence. I could see miles into the distance – mountains and valleys in every direction as far as the horizon and not a human - or any evidence of humanity in sight. Had I stood at this spot a thousand years ago the view would have been no different. I turned back and began whistling as I retraced my path back to camp.

Suddenly something punctured the air – a sound. I stopped immediately, as if frozen for a second; it was a gun shot, it echoed into the distance and then nothing but silence again. I resumed walking, but this time slower and cautiously. Perhaps that damned Mueller was just firing out of impetuosity, or a gun had gone off accidently. However what if I was wrong? Instead of climbing down at the point from whence I had climbed up I decided to carry on. I noted the topography of our surroundings earlier when in the camp and concluded that the small plateau that I had been on, would if I walked further along it, turn into a ridge; from where I would get a good view down on to one side of our camp. This would be a bloody waste of time! But my training and the caution it had inculcated into me took over. I came upon the clearing just off our camp and crouched down and crawled to a pile of rocks that provided cover. I peered over the top and could see the horses but they were unattended. Our camp fire - where the men would be was away to the right. Unfortunately that was still out of sight because of a wall of rock and I moved several metres to my left to be clear of it - after which I could hear voices. I raised my head and looked over; I was startled to see that there were five armed men in the camp, dressed in turbans and shawls. My party had been herded around the fire with three of the strangers pointing machine guns at them. Of the other two, one was just watching, whilst another, with a long orange beard, seemingly their leader was admonishing my comrades.