Hamilton’s ear: ‘You have to antagonise him? You have to be so arrogant? You have to provoke him?’
Hamilton looked at him, his face cold. ‘I don’t have to. But it’s a pleasure.’
Romono airstrip, like Romono itself, looked, as it always did, a miasmic horror. The DC3 and the helicopter-cum-hovercraft arrived on the strip within minutes of each other. The helicopter’s rotors had hardly stopped when a small fuel tanker moved out towards it.
The passengers disembarked from the DC3 and looked around them. Their expressions ranged from the incredulous to the appalled.
Smith contented himself with saying merely: ‘Good God!’
‘I don’t believe it,’ Heffner said. ‘What a stinking, nauseating dump. Jesus, Hamilton, is this the best you could do for us?’
‘What are you complaining about?’ Hamilton pointed to the tin shed which constituted both the arrival and departure terminals. ‘Look at that sign there. Romono International Airport. What more reassuring than that? This time tomorrow, gentlemen, you may well be thinking of this as home sweet home. Enjoy it. Think of it as the last outpost of civilisation. Look, as the poet says, your last on all things lovely every hour. Take what you need for the night. We have a splendid hotel here—the Hotel de Paris. Those who don’t fancy it—well, I’m sure Hiller will put you up.’ He paused. ‘On second thoughts, I think I could have a better use for Hiller.’
Smith said: ‘What kind of use?’
‘With your permission, of course. You know that this hovercraft is the lynchpin to everything?’
‘I’m not a fool.’
‘The hovercraft will be anchored tonight in very dicey waters indeed. By which I mean that the natives on either side of the Rio da Morte range from the unreliable to the downright hostile. So, it must be guarded. I suggest that this is not a task for one man, Kellner, the pilot, to do. In fact, I’m not suggesting, I’m telling you. Even if a man could keep awake all night, it would still be extremely difficult. So, another guard. I suggest Hiller.’ He turned to Hiller. ‘How are you with automatic weapons?’
‘Can find my way around, I guess.’
‘Fine.’ He turned back to Smith. ‘You’ll find a bus waiting outside the terminal.’ He reboarded the plane and emerged two minutes later bearing two automatic weapons and some drums of ammunition. By this time Hiller was alone. ‘Let’s go to the hovercraft.’
Kellner, the hovercraft pilot, was standing by his craft. He was thirtyish, sun-tanned, tough.
Hamilton said: ‘When you anchor tonight don’t forget to do so in midstream.’
‘There’ll be a reason for that?’ Kellner, clearly, was an Irishman.
‘Because if you tie up to either bank the chances are good that you’ll wake up with your throat cut. Only, of course, you don’t wake up.’
‘I don’t think I’d like that.’ Kellner didn’t seem unduly perturbed. ‘Midstream for me.’
‘Even there you won’t necessarily be safe. That’s why Hiller is coming with you—needs two men to guard against an attack from both sides. And that’s why we have those two nasty little Israeli sub-machines along.’
‘I see.’ Kellner paused. ‘I’m not much sure that I care for killing helpless Indians.’
‘When those same helpless Indians puncture your hide with a few dozen darts and arrowheads, all suitably or perhaps even lethally poisoned, you might change your mind.’
‘I’ve already changed it.’
‘Know anything about guns?’
‘I was in the S.A.S. If that means anything to you.’
‘It means a great deal to me.’ The S.A.S. was Britain’s elite commando regiment. ‘Well, that saves me explaining those little toys to you, I suppose.’
‘I know them.’
‘One of my luckier days,’ Hamilton said. ‘Well, see you both tomorrow.’
The saloon of the Hotel de Paris, after closing hours, had six occupants. Heffner, glass in hand, was slumped in a chair, but his eyes were
Hamilton looked at him, his face cold. ‘I don’t have to. But it’s a pleasure.’
Romono airstrip, like Romono itself, looked, as it always did, a miasmic horror. The DC3 and the helicopter-cum-hovercraft arrived on the strip within minutes of each other. The helicopter’s rotors had hardly stopped when a small fuel tanker moved out towards it.
The passengers disembarked from the DC3 and looked around them. Their expressions ranged from the incredulous to the appalled.
Smith contented himself with saying merely: ‘Good God!’
‘I don’t believe it,’ Heffner said. ‘What a stinking, nauseating dump. Jesus, Hamilton, is this the best you could do for us?’
‘What are you complaining about?’ Hamilton pointed to the tin shed which constituted both the arrival and departure terminals. ‘Look at that sign there. Romono International Airport. What more reassuring than that? This time tomorrow, gentlemen, you may well be thinking of this as home sweet home. Enjoy it. Think of it as the last outpost of civilisation. Look, as the poet says, your last on all things lovely every hour. Take what you need for the night. We have a splendid hotel here—the Hotel de Paris. Those who don’t fancy it—well, I’m sure Hiller will put you up.’ He paused. ‘On second thoughts, I think I could have a better use for Hiller.’
Smith said: ‘What kind of use?’
‘With your permission, of course. You know that this hovercraft is the lynchpin to everything?’
‘I’m not a fool.’
‘The hovercraft will be anchored tonight in very dicey waters indeed. By which I mean that the natives on either side of the Rio da Morte range from the unreliable to the downright hostile. So, it must be guarded. I suggest that this is not a task for one man, Kellner, the pilot, to do. In fact, I’m not suggesting, I’m telling you. Even if a man could keep awake all night, it would still be extremely difficult. So, another guard. I suggest Hiller.’ He turned to Hiller. ‘How are you with automatic weapons?’
‘Can find my way around, I guess.’
‘Fine.’ He turned back to Smith. ‘You’ll find a bus waiting outside the terminal.’ He reboarded the plane and emerged two minutes later bearing two automatic weapons and some drums of ammunition. By this time Hiller was alone. ‘Let’s go to the hovercraft.’
Kellner, the hovercraft pilot, was standing by his craft. He was thirtyish, sun-tanned, tough.
Hamilton said: ‘When you anchor tonight don’t forget to do so in midstream.’
‘There’ll be a reason for that?’ Kellner, clearly, was an Irishman.
‘Because if you tie up to either bank the chances are good that you’ll wake up with your throat cut. Only, of course, you don’t wake up.’
‘I don’t think I’d like that.’ Kellner didn’t seem unduly perturbed. ‘Midstream for me.’
‘Even there you won’t necessarily be safe. That’s why Hiller is coming with you—needs two men to guard against an attack from both sides. And that’s why we have those two nasty little Israeli sub-machines along.’
‘I see.’ Kellner paused. ‘I’m not much sure that I care for killing helpless Indians.’
‘When those same helpless Indians puncture your hide with a few dozen darts and arrowheads, all suitably or perhaps even lethally poisoned, you might change your mind.’
‘I’ve already changed it.’
‘Know anything about guns?’
‘I was in the S.A.S. If that means anything to you.’
‘It means a great deal to me.’ The S.A.S. was Britain’s elite commando regiment. ‘Well, that saves me explaining those little toys to you, I suppose.’
‘I know them.’
‘One of my luckier days,’ Hamilton said. ‘Well, see you both tomorrow.’
The saloon of the Hotel de Paris, after closing hours, had six occupants. Heffner, glass in hand, was slumped in a chair, but his eyes were
Similar Books
