Manus Xingue (7 page)

‘Bollocks!' Lacy swears. ‘Let's go after them, Sarge,' he impatiently urges.

‘Hold it,' replies Kane, ‘we could walk straight into an ambush or a mantrap – it's not worth the risk.'

At the junction where the path from the hut and the jungle trail meet, the escaping Chevez and the three Kier Verde indians take the main jungle trail heading north. Mendoza takes a small path heading south towards the swamp, where his boat is hidden.

‘Mendoza,' calls out Chevez, ‘don't go that way. Come with us, amigo – I will show you a better way to your boat.'

Mendoza takes Chevez's advice and joins them on the main trail. The fugitives flee quickly, led by Chevez.

Edwards and Dublin join Kane, and Lacy. ‘What happened?' Edwards asks.

‘A poxy sentry rumbled us,' replies Kane. ‘We'll go forward with Indian Joe and pick up their tracks. You and Frank go back and check out the hut.'

Kane and Lacy move up the jungle trail to the junction where the path from the hut and the main jungle trail meet.

‘Five men go this way – north,' says Indian Joe, studying the ground.

‘Ok, Joe,' replies Kane. ‘You follow them – make sure no mantraps – we will wait here.' Indian Joe carries on up the track with cautious steps. Kane then studies the footprints left by Chevez's group while Lacy keeps guard.

Edwards and Dublin return from checking the hut. ‘The hut is as clean as maiden's water,' says Edwards. ‘What have you found, Jim?' Dublin asks.

‘Five people ran from the hut, three of them were barefoot – must be wild Kier Verde indians. One was wearing sandals – home-made out of a car tyre. Look, you can see the logo: “Goodyear”.'

‘Now, a strange thing,' continues Kane. ‘One man wearing brand new, US army combat boots begins to take this small path towards the swamp, changes his mind and follows the others up the main trail.'

‘The one with the new combat boots must be Chevez, Sarge?' says Lacy.

‘I agree,' answers Kane. ‘He's had plenty of opportunity to loot.'

Indian Joe returns. ‘No mantraps, no ambush – all men run north,' he reports, then snorts a line of cocaine.

‘Well, all's not lost,' says Jim Kane. ‘We are still on their arses. Chevez will not risk a fire-fight – only hit and run.'

‘Give them a start,' advises Dublin, ‘let them relax, catch them unawares.'

‘Or hit them later, when they camp for the night,' suggests Edwards. ‘They have a good fifty kilometres to go before they reach the northern hills.'

‘Will Chevez travel at night?' Kane asks Indian Joe.

‘No walk at night. Here dwells powerful Cat-spirit – kill many man – but Indian Joe not afraid. I big
Shaman –
have big magic.'

‘I think,' butts in Taffy Edwards, ‘our
venereal
friend here is saying there's a man-eating jaguar operating in this area!'

‘Fuck me, that's all I need – wish I'd stayed at sea,' mutters Jack Lacy.

‘Look, lad,' says Kane, ‘the jaguar must have hundreds of square kilometres to roam over – besides, we are armed.'

‘Do the Kier Verde use guns?' Edwards asks Indian Joe.

‘No gun,' answers the indian. ‘Use blowpipe, bow, bad poison.'

‘Where does the land of the Kier Verde begin?' Dublin asks.

‘Other side Japari River – long way,' answers Indian Joe.

‘You know where Chevez live?' Dublin asks.

‘Chevez live with Kier Verde woman, over hills north Japari River.'

‘Ok, let's go,' orders Kane. ‘We need to kill Chevez before the Japari River, before he reaches Kier Verde country, so we don't want to lose touch now.' The SAS troopers, led by Indian Joe, continue to follow Chevez cautiously.

Further up the track, Chevez and his group continue at a fast pace. The portly trader, Mendoza, is not happy – he is finding his new, US combat boots rather painful to walk in and his bag of trade goods is becoming too heavy. He stops. ‘Santa Maria!' he exclaims, wiping his brow, and begins to take off his new boots. ‘No, Mendoza!' says Chevez urgently, ‘keep the boots on, amigo – we will help carry your bag.' Rondo, a Kier Verde indian, takes Mendoza's heavy bag. Chevez addresses the Kier Verde indian that raised the alarm back at the hut. ‘Apari, what kind of soldiers are they?'

‘White men – I could smell them – not smell like Americano soldiers. If we kill their Marpari indian tracker, the soldiers will become lost and die!'

‘I have no anger for the Marpari – they are slaves to the white powder.'

‘They have come for you again, Chevez,' says Yuma, the third Kier Verde. ‘You must kill them all.'

‘I only kill soldiers when they come to kill me. Maybe these soldiers are not looking for me,' answers Chevez. ‘I have done nothing to them or their countries.'

Chevez's group carries on. Apari spots something at the side of the jungle trail; it is a very aggressive and venomous
Fer de Lance
viper. He is about to kill it with his machete but Chevez stops him.

‘It may come in handy later on – remember the trick you taught me, Apari?' Chevez muses. Apari smiles, nodding approvingly. He pins the snake down with his blade, binds its mouth and places it in a small sack, then catches up with the group.

Half a kilometre behind Chevez's group, the SAS troopers, led by Indian Joe, are quickly catching up. Suddenly, all the soldiers stop – at the side of the track, leaning against a tree trunk as if taking a quick break, is a grinning skeleton of a US Special Forces soldier, still with helmet. A tattered uniform hangs from the bones. The soldier's dog-tags still hang around his bony neck vertebra. A damaged CT set is at his side. Edwards and Dublin exchange a knowing glance.

Dublin is keen to inspect the dog-tags and reaches out for them.

‘Hold it, Frank!' Kane orders. ‘I have strict instructions from Captain Bodeen not to contaminate any of the dog-tags we find by touching or inspection. Lacy, you continue ahead – check for mantraps – remember, don't let your eyes be diverted from the trail, like this morning.'

Jack Lacy and Indian Joe leave.

‘What is all this crap about contaminating dog-tags?' Edwards asks.

‘I don't know,' answers Kane, ‘and I don't give a monkey's toss. I just follow orders.' Kane gently lifts the helmet off the skull – many insects scurry away from the daylight. He then removes the dog-tags with a stick and looks at the soldier's name, then seals the dog-tags in a plastic bag. The sergeant then takes out an identification list, with pictures of the missing American soldiers, from his pocket.

‘His name is Luther Washington, signaller – the only black man in the twelve man team of US special force soldiers that came after Chevez three months ago. I cannot understand why they're not body-bagging their dead and taking the dog-tags – it is not like the Yanks.'

Dublin checks the skeleton. ‘Look, damage to two ribs – looks like a knife!'

‘And why has the CT set been smashed?' Edwards adds.

Kane notices a small, red, badly discoloured, signaller's log book sticking through the rotten uniform. He reads the last entry, dated fourth of May 2006…

“‘Peterson has sent me away to contact headquarters with an urgent coded message. It is sure nice to get away from the hillbilly rednecks… Those mountain-men make a lone, coloured boy like me feel a little jumpy.” The rest is unreadable,' says Kane.

Jack Lacy and Indian Joe return. ‘Nothing, Sarge – they're legging it,' announces Lacy.

‘We need to move, Jim,' urges Edwards. ‘Can't give Chevez too much of a start.'

Chevez and his group reach a sluggish, hip-deep river. ‘Holy Mother!' exclaims Mendoza, ‘this is the Jurua River – upstream – my boat is downstream. This way is better for you, Chevez, you mother–fucker, not for me!'

‘Walk downstream for a hundred metres,' says Chevez, ‘then climb the bank. You will find a trail – you will soon reach your boat.'

‘You bring me all this way to walk in the river!' answers Mendoza, shocked. ‘What about anacondas, piranhas?'

‘We will be watching you,' Chevez answers, tapping his rifle.

Mendoza studies Chevez – was that a subtle threat?' A Kier Verde fits an arrow to his bow – his question is answered! Mendoza begins to take off his new combat boots. ‘Leave your boots on, Mendoza,' says Chevez. ‘There maybe
stingrays
in the water!' Mendoza reluctantly wades into the waist-deep river, awkwardly holding all his traded goods out of the water's reach.

Chevez asks Apari to go back along the trail and keep a lookout for the white soldiers' approach. Chevez and the two remaining Kier Verde watch Mendoza struggling in the river with amusement.

‘Don't piss in the water, Mendoza,' shouts Rondo, ‘or you will find the little fish that would like to sleep in your fat cock!'

Mendoza checks between his legs and swears. ‘Mother-fuckers! I should have gone the other way – they are using me to make a
false
trail.'

Once Mendoza has found the trail and climbed back on the bank further down river, Yuma claps his hands and declares… ‘That will delay the white soldiers.'

‘Let's go,' says Chevez, ‘Apari will catch us up.' Chevez and the Kier Verde indians then enter the river and walk upstream. The two wild indians walk in front of Chevez and deliberately
kick
up sediment that covers Chevez's tracks, totally obliterating them, giving the impression that only the two Kier Verde warriors have gone upstream.

Only minutes later, the SAS men, led by Indian Joe, reach the same river. ‘Fuck me gently,' swears Kane, ‘it's the Jurua, the same river we crossed yesterday, only we're upstream.'

‘It's a bloody good place for an ambush from across the river,' Edwards adds.

All the troopers hit the deck. ‘Chevez has led us in a half circle,' says Kane. ‘Lacy, I want you to scan the opposite bank with your scope – study every leaf and stick that's out of place, even by a gnat's cock.'

‘I don't think Chevez will chance an ambush until he's desperate,' Taffy Edwards muses. Kane tells Indian Joe to enter the river and find out which way Chevez is heading.

Indian Joe enters the river, covered by the SAS men – he checks the sandy river-bed for tracks, using his hands to exclude the light. The trick, played by the Kier Verde fools Indian Joe – he wades back and reports to Sgt Jim Kane.

‘Two Kier Verde warriors go,' Indian Joe points upstream. ‘Man with boots go this way,' Indian Joe points downstream.

‘Chevez is heading back to the hut – it doesn't make sense,' says Kane. ‘Mendoza, wearing the home-made sandals, and a Kier Verde warrior have completely disappeared!'

‘Careful!' warns the cautious Edwards, ‘they could be sneaking up behind us.'

‘Take up all-round defensive positions,' orders Kane. ‘Joe and me will go after Chevez downstream – we might get lucky.' Kane and Indian Joe enter the river and wade downstream. Edwards and Dublin lie together; Lacy is about six metres away.

Edwards and Dublin talk in low voices. ‘It's going to be difficult, getting a look at any dog-tags we find if Jim is there,' says Dublin. ‘Shall we chance it – bring Jim
in
on what's going on?'

‘Not bloody likely, mate,' answers Edwards. ‘Jim follows orders to the letter and is as straight as a die. Remember that Iraqi 4-by-4, filled with money? Jim handed it straight back to the first stupid
Rupert
he saw.'

‘What about Lacy?' Dublin asks.

‘Lacy is a Cockney – Cockneys are all crooks,' replies Edwards. ‘Lacy is also a big-mouth Marine – six pints of lager and he'll sing like a Cockney sparrow.'

Instead of keeping alert, Lacy is looking at a large flock of colourful macaws circling overhead. The macaws dip and land on a tall tree, seventy yards in front of Lacy – the naive Lacy stands up to get a better view of the birds.

‘Look at that stupid prick!' hisses Dublin. ‘He's staring at that tree, like a cow stares at a new gate.'

‘Get your bloody head down, man,' shouts Taffy Edwards, ‘before you get a round in it.'

‘It's alright, Taffy,' answers Lacy. ‘Those birds would not have landed if they saw anyone near the tree with a gun.'

‘Listen to Sherlock Homes,' muses Dublin. ‘You are standing there with a gun, you prick!'

Kane and Indian Joe reappear, also watching the flocks of macaws. Suddenly, the birds take off, screeching – Kane and Lacy hit the ground – Indian Joe takes a line of cocaine.

All the SAS men focus on the area around the tree. Lacy crawls up to Kane. ‘Send Rumpleforeskin in there, Sarge–. Let him get shot!'

‘Don't be such a prat,' answers Kane. ‘If we lose our tracker, we have a snowball's chance in hell of catching that crafty sod, Chevez.'

‘What do you reckon scared those birds, Sarge?' Lacy asks.

‘Could be anything – definitely not Chevez. He would only ambush us from across the river,' answers the Sergeant.

‘I agree' says Edwards. ‘Chevez is too smart to try anything this side of the river.' Sergeant Kane whispers to Edwards and Dublin, ‘We followed the person wearing the US combat boots. It was not
Chevez
but the trader, Mendoza – we found where he left his boat. Chevez is the one wearing the Goodyear sandals but he and one Kier Verde seem to have just vanished!'

‘I have a strange feeling Chevez
wanted
us to hang about here for some reason,' says Edwards.

‘A penny to a pinch of snuff, Chevez went upstream, hiding his tracks somehow,' Dublin adds.

‘I agree,' replies Kane. ‘Chevez gave us something to work out, to keep us occupied.'

‘Why?' Taffy Edwards muses.

The four SAS troopers scan the surrounding jungle nervously. ‘Now I see through a light glass darkly!' replies Kane.