Last Light (33 page)

Tell me."

She just held her face as if in another time and space as the fans thudded above us. She looked very scared as her face came up to look at me, pointing out towards the veranda. This whole thing is creeping me out have you any idea how crazy those people are? I hate it when they come, I hate it."

"I can see that, but who are they?"

They work for my father. They're doing some sort of operation against PARC, on the Bayanyo somewhere. It's part of Plan Colombia. ' She wasn't just scared but physically shocked. Her hands trembled as she brushed her hair back behind her ears.

"It's a drugs-surveillance thing .. . we have the relay board for their communications. It's secure, so it comes through us, then to George. He said to keep it from you for operational security."

"So why did they break OP SEC by coming when I was here?"

"The webcam ... they're monitoring ships suspected of drug-trafficking on the canal. I was told to close it down before you arrived, but I forgot. Good spy, huh?"

She looked a sorrowful sight, eyes puffed up and red.

"Make Daddy proud. It seemed that when I eventually did close it down, it messed up their other communications, something to do with the relay." She pointed to the mass of wires under the tables.

"They had to come and fix it. That's what George was telling me when you came in. We didn't want it to get mixed up with the job he's sent you to do-' "Hold on your dad sent me?"

"Didn't you know? He's controlling both operations. Nick, you must believe me, this really is the first time we've done anything like this."

I moved from pissed-off to depressed very quickly. It was just like old times. I sat in the other chair as she sniffled herself back to normality. Aaron came into the room, his eyes darting between the two of us, trying to assess the situation.

She looked up at him, eyes red, wet and swollen.

"I've told him," she said.

"I've told him everything."

Aaron looked at me and sighed.

"I've always hated this. I told her not to get involved." It was as if he was talking to me about our child.

He turned his attention to Carrie.

"George should never have gotten you into this. It isn't worth it for what you want, Carrie. There has to be another way."

This was anger, his lips were wet, but it didn't last long. Taking two paces forward, he threw his arms around her, stroking her head when she laid it against his stomach, making soothing sounds, just as I imagined he'd done with Luz and I used to do with Kelly.

I stood up and walked back into the living room, following my own mud trail back towards the veranda. The mesh door squeaked open and I joined the mozzies by the wall light as I threw the pillows on to the floor and started untying the hammock, feeling quite sorry for both of them, and Luz.

I was very clear about what was happening a total gang fuck Everything she'd said would have made sense, if it weren't for the Pizza Man. If he had seen Aaron at the locks, or even the

Mazda, it made sense why he'd bolted so quickly: if Aaron and Carrie didn't know he was on the ground, then of course he didn't want to be seen by them. I was tempted to tell her, to pump her for more information on him, but no. That would stay in my pocket in case I needed it especially as there was still the question of his going to Charlie's that I couldn't work out.

I undid the knot at the end attached to the hook in the wall and let it fall, then started on the thick rope wrapped round one of the veranda's supports. The other tie fell to the floor, and I left it and stepped off into the mud.

What now?

I opened up the back of the Mazda and saw in the light from the veranda that everything had been packed into an old canvas bag. I dragged out the blue towrope, which reeked of petrol, and walked back towards the house.

I still hadn't answered the question: What now?

I stepped up on to the veranda and peered through the mesh into the house. Aaron couldn't be seen but Carrie was still in the director's chair, bent over, arms on her thighs, studying the floor. I watched her for a few moments as she rubbed her hair before dabbing her eyes.

As I bent down to gather up the hammock I realized what I was going to do about it. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I didn't have the luxury of doing anything other than I'd come here to do: keep Kelly alive.

I had to keep mission-orientated; that was the only thing I had to concentrate on. Fuck everything else. My sole focus had to be keeping the Yes Man happy: he was the one who could fuck life up big-time for both of us, not whatever was going on down here.

I cut away from all extraneous thoughts and mentally confirmed what my whole life should have been about since Sunday. The mission: to kill Michael Choi. The mission: to kill Michael Choi.

With the hammock and tow-rope gathered in my arms I pulled the mozzie screen open just as Aaron tiptoed out of Luz's darkened bedroom and gently closed the door. He put his hands together against the side of his face as he walked towards me.

I kept my voice low.

"Listen, I didn't know anything about Carrie, her dad, or any of the other stuff until today. I'm sorry if life is shit, but I've come to do a job and I still need to be taken to do it."

He rubbed his face so hard that the bristles rasped, and drew a long, deep breath.

"You know why's she doing this, right?"

I nodded, shrugged, tried to get out of it, and failed.

"Something to do with a passport, something like that?"

"You got it. But you know what? I think she would have done it anyway. No matter how much she hates to admit it, she's just like George, takes the Stars and Stripes gig to the max, know what I mean?"

He placed a hand on my shoulder and forced a smile. I nodded, not really having a clue what the fuck he was on about, and not really wanting to explore it further.

There was a pause before he withdrew his hand and held up his wrist to show his watch.

"Anything you need?" He was right: it was nearly ten o'clock, time to go.

There is. I put all of that explosive from the hut in one of your tubs, and I've left it down there."

'You taking it with you?"

I nodded.

He took another of his deep breaths, trying hard not to ask why. It seemed there were other things apart from the move north that Carrie didn't talk to him about.

"OK, gimme five."

We parted, him to his bedroom and me back to the storeroom. Carrie was still sitting on the director's chair, her elbows on the desk, cradling her head. I left her to it and packed the hammock and other stuff into the bergen.

The mozzie screen squeaked and slammed as Aaron left to collect the device.

Remembering that I still needed dry clothes, I went back to the computer room.

"Carrie?" There was no reply.

"Carrie?"

She slowly lifted her head as I walked into the room, not looking too good, eyes and cheeks red. Things had changed: I felt sorry for her now.

"I need some more clothes." I pulled at my mud-covered sweatshirt.

"A complete set of stuff."

It seemed to take her a second to understand what I was saying.

"Oh, right." She stood up. 'I'll, um ..." She coughed to clear her throat as she left the room.

"Sure."

I rummaged around under the cot and shelves for more thin polythene blanket wrappers. With several ripped ones in my hands, I picked up the rifle and checked chamber by pulling the bolt up and back slightly to expose the brass case and head of the round. I already knew it was there, but it made me feel better to see it and know that when I fired I wouldn't just hear a dead man's click. Satisfied, I swathed the muzzle and working parts in polythene again, completing the seal with tape before checking the muzzle protection was still intact.

Carrie reappeared with a thick brown cotton shirt and matching canvas trousers.

She never seemed to provide socks or underwear; maybe Aaron didn't use them.

They went into the protective plastic in the bergen, which I then closed down with the other two mozzie nets on top.

She watched as I checked my leg. The bandage was covered with mud but that didn't matter; the important thing was that there was no sign of leakage.

I gave my trousers a good squirt of Deet before tucking them into my very smelly socks, then doused them as well. Once I'd finished the front I got to work on my forearms, my hands, all round my neck and my head, even getting it into my hair.

I wanted to be armour-plated with the stuff, and I'd go on replenishing it all the time I was on the ground. I carried on squirting it over my clothing and rubbing it in. Anywhere that wasn't covered in mud got the good news. I threw her one of the bottles as she stood, zombie-like.

"Do my back, will you?"

It seemed to snap her out of her trance. She started rubbing it roughly into my sweatshirt.

"I'm taking you."

"What?"

"It's my job, I'll take you. I'm the one who wants the passport."

I nodded. I didn't want to get involved and talk more about it. We had done enough of that. All I wanted now was the lift.

The rubbing stopped.

"We ought to be going."

The half-used bottle appeared over my shoulder.

"But first I want to tuck my child in."

She walked out, and I packed all the Deet bottles in the top flap and started to wrap the weapon in the blanket for protection, not too sure if I was looking forward to the ride or not.

TWENTY-EIGHT

The atmosphere was strained as Carrie and I shook around in the cab, following the beam as it bounced off the jungle around us. The wet foliage shone as if it had been coated with varnish.

For several kilometres her eyes had been fixed on the section of track carved out by the lights, trying to negotiate the ruts that rocked us rhythmically from side to side. I let my head wobble but kept a hand on the rifle between my knees to protect the zero.

We eventually emerged from the forest and passed through the valley of dead trees. At last she cleared her throat.

"After all that we have said to each other ... this doesn't need to change things, Nick."

"Yeah, well, we all make mistakes."

"No, Nick, it wasn't a mistake, I need you to believe that. What you said means something. I'll never abuse that trust."

"Is that why you told your dad I had a fever?"

"Like I said, no one ever need know. I don't lie, Nick."

Thanks."

"Am I forgiven?" She glanced at me to check that she really was before her eyes darted back to the track as we tilted left.

"Can't your dad just give Luz a passport? Surely he can sort that out?"

"Sure he can, I know that. But he knows I'm desperate. I've never gotten anything from him for free. I always had to earn it first. It was only going to be for locating the relay board. Then it got worse, some food and stores, a few gallons of two-stroke. They didn't want to go to Chepo in case they got recognized, I suppose ... Then you came along."

I sat and watched her as her eyes concentrated on the driving but her mind was elsewhere.

"Aaron was right. He told me that once it started it'd never stop, he'd keep using me. You know what? Maybe he's right, but as soon as the passport comes we'll be out of here."

"You'll go to your mum's? Boston?"

"She's got a house in Marblehead, on the coast. I have a job waiting at MIT and Luz is set for school."

What's the score with your dad? I can't work out if you hate him, love him or what."

T can't either. Then, sometimes, I even get a little jealous of the attention he gives Luz, and others I think he only does it to keep an eye on me."

Still concentrating on the road, it seemed it was her turn to open up.

"I never knew who he really was, what he really did. He just went away, came back sometimes with something he'd pick up for me last minute, normally something totally unsuitable. Then he left again as soon as I'd gotten used to him being around. Mom just waited till I'd left for university and she left, too. He's a cold man, but still my father."

I tapped the muzzle.

"He gave you this."

She turned for a second and a fleeting smile came to her lips.

"His way of saying he loves you, maybe?"

"Maybe, but maybe it was only because he forgot to pack it when leaving the Zone after his tour."

"Aaron said you're very much like him something about stars and stripes?"

She laughed: this was obviously well-trodden ground.

"Aaron only thinks that because, for once, I agree with George on what's gone wrong in this country. Aaron's too stubborn to see it, that's why he wants to stay. He's hoping for a brighter future but it ain't coming on its own. The Zone as he remembers it has gone. We, America, let that happen. It's disgusting."

"You guys could come back if the canal was threatened.

Isn't there a clause in the treaty, something in the small print?"

"Oh, yeah, sure like the Russians are going to invade. I'm not planning my future around it."

"What's the big deal? After all, you lot gave the thing back, didn't you?"

She bristled.

"No Carter did."

We nearly hit the roof as the wagon bounced out of a rut deeper than it had looked.

"We built the canal, we built the country. Geographically, it's virtually part of the US coastline, for Christ's sake. People like Lulu died for it and that peanut-munching inadequate threw it away like a Kleenex." She paused.

"Do you really want to know why it's such a big deal?"

I nodded.

"Why not?"

"OK, there are two major problems to address." Her right index finger sprang upwards from the bucking steering-wheel.

SOUTH COM drugs interdiction and eradication capability is now about a third of what it used to be before 'ninety-nine. In short, it's history. People like Charlie and PARC are getting a free run. Unless action is taken, and quickly, we lose the drugs war for ever.

If you think there's a problem now, watch this space." She shook her head in disbelief at her countrymen's folly.