Last Light (43 page)

I didn't disturb the dressings over the wound site, or the foliage packed between her legs, but just gradually worked my way up her legs with the four inch bandages. I wanted to get her looking like an Egyptian mummy from her feet up to her hips. Carrie just lay there, staring vacantly at the now stationary fans.

I got Luz to hold her mother's legs up a little so I could feed the bandage under them. Carrie cried out, but it had to be done. She managed to calm herself, and looked directly into my eyes. Talk to George, you'll speak his language. He won't listen to me, never has..."

Luz was on her knees, holding her mum's hand once more.

"What's happening, Mom?

Is Grandpa coming to help?"

Carrie stared at me, mumbling to Luz, "What's the time, baby?"

Twenty after eight."

Carrie squeezed her hand.

"What's wrong, Mom? I want Daddy. What's wrong?"

"We're late ... We've gotta get Grandpa ... He'll be worrying ... Talk to him, Nick. Please, you've got to ..."

Where's Daddy? I want Daddy." She was getting hysterical as Carrie held her hand tight.

"Soon, baby, not yet ... Get Grandpa ..." Then she turned her head away from her daughter and her voice was suddenly much quieter.

"Nick has to go and do something for us first and himself. I don't mind waiting, Chepo isn't that far." She stared at me for a few moments with half-closed, glazed eyes, then rested her head back on the cot, mouth open. But there wasn't any noise. Her big, wet, swollen eyes looked at me and begged silently.

Luz got up and went over to her PC.

"We'll see Daddy soon, right?"

Carrie couldn't tilt her head far enough back to see her.

"Get Grandpa."

"No, not yet," I said.

"Get a search engine Google, something like that."

Both of them looked at me as if I was mad. My eyes darted between them.

"Just do it, trust me."

Luz was already clicking the keyboard of her PC at the other end of the room when Carrie beckoned me closer.

"What?" I could smell the mud caked in her hair, and heard the sound of the modem handshaking.

She stared at me, her pupils almost fully dilated.

"Kelly, the Yes Guy. You got to do something ..."

It's OK, I've taken care of that, for now at least."

She smiled like a drunk.

"I got it, Nick I got Google."

I walked over and took her place on the chair, and typed in "Sunburn missile'.

It threw up a couple of thousand results, but even the first I clicked on made grim reading. The Russian-designed and -built 3M82 Moskit sea-skimming missile (NATO code-named SS-N-22 "Sunburn') was now also in the hands of the Chinese.

The line drawing showed a normal, rocket-shaped missile, quite skinny, with fins at the bottom and smaller ones midway up its ten metres. It could be launched from a ship or from a trailer-like platform that looked like something from Thunderbirds.

There was a defence analyst's review:

The Sunburn anti-ship missile is perhaps the most lethal in the world. The Sunburn combines a Mach 2.5 speed with a very low-level flight pattern that uses violent end maneuvers to throw off defenses. After detecting the Sunburn, the US Navy Phalanx point defense system may have only 2.5 seconds to calculate a fire solution before impact when it lifts up and heads straight down into the target's deck with the devastating impact of a 750 Ib warhead. With a range of 90 miles, Sunburn ... Devastating wasn't the word. After the initial explosion, which would melt everyone in the immediate vicinity, everything caught in the blast would become a secondary missile, to the point of steel drinks trays decapitating people at supersonic speed.

That was all I needed to know.

I moved off the chair and walked towards the other two.

"Luz, you can get your grand ad now."

THIRTY-EIGHT

I knelt down beside Carrie. The banjo you were talking about, is it a river? Is that why they have a boat?"

The drugs were kicking in.

"Banjo?"

"No, no where they came from last night, remember? Is it a river?"

She nodded, fighting hard to listen.

"Oh, the Bayano? East of here, not far."

"Do you know where they are exactly?"

"No, but... but..."

She motioned me with her head to bend down closer. When she spoke, her voice was shaking and trying to fight back the tears.

"Aaron next door?"

I shook my head. The Mazda."

She coughed and started to cry very gently. I didn't know what to say: my head was empty.

"Grandpa! Grandpa! You gotta help ... There were these men, Mom's hurt and Daddy's gone for the police!" She was getting herself into a frenzy. I moved over to her.

"Go and help your mum, go on."

I found myself facing George's head and shoulders in the six-inch-by-six box in the centre of the screen. It was still a bit jittery and fuzzy around the edges, just like last night, but I could clearly see his dark suit and tie over a white shirt. I plugged in the headset and put it over my ears so nothing could be heard over the tinny internal speaker. Luz had been protected so far from all this shit: there was no need for that to change.

"Who are you?" His tone was slow and controlled over the crackles.

"Nick. A face to the name at last, eh?"

"What's my daughter's condition?" His all-American square-jawed face didn't betray a trace of emotion.

"A fractured femur but she's going to be OK. You need to sort something out for her at Chepo. Get her picked up from the Peace Corps. I'll-' "No. Take them both to the embassy. Where is Aaron?" If he was concerned, he wasn't sounding it.

I looked behind me and saw Luz, close to Carrie but within earshot. I turned back and muttered, "Dead."

My eyes were on the screen, but there was no change of expression in his face nor in his voice.

"I repeat, take them to the embassy, I'll arrange everything else."

I shook my head slowly, looking into the screen as he stared back impassively. I kept my voice low.

"I know what's happening, George. So does Choi. You can't let the Ocaso take the hit. You know how many people will be there? People like Carrie, Luz -real people. You have to stop it."

His features didn't move a millimetre until he took a breath.

"Listen up, son, don't get yourself involved in something you don't understand. Just do exactly what I said. Take my daughter and Luz to the embassy, and do it right now."

He hadn't denied it. He hadn't asked, What's the Ocaso?"

I needed to finish my piece.

"Get it stopped, George, or I'm reaching out to anyone who will listen. Call it off and I'm silent for life. Simple."

"Can't do that, son." He leant forward as if he wanted to get closer to intimidate me. His face took up a lot of screen.

"Reach out all you want, no one will be listening. Just too many people involved, too many agendas. You're getting into ground that you wouldn't be capable of understanding."

He moved back, his shirt and tie returning to the screen.

"Listen up good, I'll tell you what's simple. Just take them to the embassy and wait there. I'll even get you paid off, if it helps." He paused,

to ensure I was really going to get the message.

"If not? Take my word for it, the future won't look bright. Now just get with the program, take them to the embassy, and don't get dragged into something that's so big it'll frighten you."

I listened, knowing that as soon as I was through those embassy gates I'd be history. I knew too much and wasn't one of the family.

"Remember, son, many agendas. You wouldn't be sure who you'd be talking to."

I shook my head and pulled off the headset, looking around at Carrie with a shrug of exasperation.

"Let me speak to him, Nick."

TSfo point. He's hearing, not listening."

Two thousand people, Nick, two thousand people ..."

I went over to them both and grabbed one end of the cot with both hands.

"Luz, we need blankets and water for your mum. Just pile them up in the storeroom for the journey."

I pulled the cot back so Carrie was within reach of the headset, and placed it over her head, repositioning the mike so it was near her mouth. Above us, George's face still dominated the screen as he waited for my answer.

"Hi, it's me."

The face on the screen was impassive, but I saw the lips move.

"I'll live ... all those people won't if you don't do something to call it off."

George's mouth worked for several seconds, but his expression remained set. He was arguing, rationalizing, probably commanding. The one thing he still wasn't doing was listening.

"Just once, just for once in my life ... I've never asked you for anything. Even the passport wasn't a gift, it came with conditions. You have to stop it. Stop it now ... I looked at George, and his cold, unyielding face as he spoke. It was now Carrie's turn to listen. She slowly pulled the headset from her face, her eyes swollen with tears, and let it drop on her chest.

"Disconnect it ... get him out of here ... It's over ... Comms are closed."

I left them to it as George had already cut the com ms himself.

The box had closed down. That was because he'd be getting on to the missile crew using the relay.

Looking up at the ceiling, I followed the black wires from the dishes, down behind the plywood boards and out under the tables, looking like a plate of spaghetti as they jumbled themselves up with white wires and fought with each other on their way to feed the machines.

Sliding under the desk, I started to pull out anything that was attached to anything else as I shouted at Carrie. Where's the relay board? Do you know where the relay is?"

I got a weak reply. The blue box. It's near where you are somewhere."

Luz came back into the room and went to her mother.

Under the mass of wiring, books and stationery I found a dark blue and badly scratched alloy box, just over a foot square and four inches thick. There were three coaxial cables attached, two in, one out. I pulled out all three.

There was mumbling behind me. I turned just in time to see Luz heading for the living-room door.

"Stop! Stay where you are! Don't move!" I jumped to my feet and moved over and grabbed her.

"Where you going?"

"Just to get some clothes. I'm sorry ..." She looked over to her mother for support. I let go so she could be at her mother's side, and as I turned to follow her I noticed a small pool of blood that had started to seep under the door. I ran into the storeroom and grabbed the first thing I could find for the job, a half-empty fifty-pound plastic sack of rice that had been kicked over. I lugged it back and placed it like a sandbag against the bottom of the door.

"You can't go in there it's dangerous, there could be a fire. The oil lamps fell when the helicopters came, it's everywhere. I'll get your stuff for you in a second."

Getting back under the table, I ripped out every wire that was attached to anything, then listened to make sure it was still raining.

I'll get the clothes for you now, Luz, just stay here, OK?"

I nearly gagged when I opened the door and stepped over the rice bag. The smell of cordite had gone, replaced by death, a smell like a bad day in a butcher's shop. Once the door was closed I turned on the light. The four bodies lay amongst the splintered wood and smashed glass, their blood in thick, congealed pools on the floorboards.

I tried to avoid stepping in anything as I went and got a spare set of clothes for Luz and a sweat top for Carrie. Opening the door, I threw them out into the computer room.

"Get changed, help your mum. I'll stay in here."

Positioning my feet to avoid the blood, I started to pull a chest harness from under Green Guy. It must have been dragged from the table as he collapsed, and was dripping with blood. That didn't matter, what did was the mags inside.

I started to wrench off the other harnesses. They, too, were soaking, and some of the mags had been hit by rounds. The nylon had split open, exposing twisted metal and bits of brass.

Hefting three harnesses, all filled with fresh mags, I rescued my docs from the floor and collected two hundred and twelve bloodstained dollars from the five bodies. Feeling less naked, I secured them in my leg pocket before checking the bookshelf for mapping of Chepo and the Bayano.

I found what I was looking for, and she was right: it was to the east of Chepo.

There was no time to ponder, we had to leave. The weather might clear at any minute. If the Peace Corps couldn't do anything for her, they could at least get her to the city.

I ran through on to the veranda, and out into the wonderful heli-repelling rain.

As soon as I got to the Land Cruiser I dumped the kit in the foot well then jammed the M-16 down between the passenger seat and the door before I closed it.

I didn't know why, I just didn't want Luz seeing it.

I went round to the other side and checked the fuel. I had about half a tank. I grabbed the torch and headed for the Mazda. When I lifted the squeaking tailgate, the light beam fell on the now bloodstained bedsheet covering Aaron. I could also see the jerry-cans secured at the rear and jumped in beside him, my boots slipping in a pool of his blood. The sickly, sweet smell was as bad as it was in the house. I rested my hand on his stomach to steady myself, and discovered he was still soft. I dragged out one of the heavy containers and slammed the tailgate shut.

I unscrewed the Land Cruiser's fuel cap and pulled back the nozzle of the jerry can The pressure inside was released with a hiss. I hurriedly poured the fuel into the tank, splashing it down the side of the wagon, drenching my hands.

As soon as the jerry-can was empty I closed the fuel cap and threw the metal container into the foot well on top of the harnesses. I thought I might be needing it later.

THIRTY-NINE

Having made sure that mud had replaced Aaron's blood on my Timberlands, I walked back towards the glare of the computer room and checked that the rice bag was still doing its job.

Carrie was smoking, and as I got closer I didn't need a sniffer dog to tell me what. Luz was sitting on the floor beside the cot, stroking her mother's brow and watching the smoke ooze from her nostrils. If she disapproved, she wasn't showing it.