movement intently. He spotted nothing but the vague shapes of trees swaying in the darkness for several seconds … then it reappeared.
A light. Faint, but in the black of the jungle it stood out like a beacon. It bobbed between the trees, then vanished again, obscured by the trunks.
Chase didn’t need to see any more. The only person who would be strolling through the jungle at night with a typhoon bearing down on them was a sentry. “It’s a torch,” he whispered as Sullivan moved up to join him. “We’ve found them.”
The news sent a crackle of electricity through the group. They had been alert before; now they were fully focused, ready for action. Hoyt spat out his damp cigarette and crushed it under his boot. “Okay,” said Sullivan at another glimpse of torchlight, “he’s about two hundred meters away. We’ll stay on this level and move in to one hundred for a better look. We don’t get any closer until we’ve gotten an idea how manythere are—and
where
they are. Spread out to five-meter spacing. Eddie, lead on.”
Chase slung his rifle over his shoulder and crouched, almost on all fours as he began his cautious advance. Castille waited until a gap had opened up between them, then followed. The other men picked up the trail one by one after him, Hoyt at the rear.
By the time Chase had covered roughly half the hundred meters, he had already spotted further signs of life. The torch definitely belonged to a sentry, trudging back and forth along a curving path. There was at least one other sentry farther away, forming a perimeter. Within the circle, more lights were revealed as he got closer. Diffuse glows gradually took on the form of several tents with lamps inside, and a lantern hung at the entrance to another shelter.
He stopped a hundred meters from the camp. Beyond the tents was some sort of building, a boxy cabin. Reflected light picked out the rain running in sheets down its slab-like sides. A faint glowing rectangle marked a window in one wall. It didn’t seem to be a bunker left over from the war; it looked more like a caravan or shipping container.
He had more immediate concerns than the mystery structure, however. The two sentries were still slogging around the perimeter, and as he watched, a man emerged from one of the smaller tents and scurried across the camp to enter the largest of the shelters. The guards were not the only bandits still awake.
The other mercenaries reached him. Chase gave them a brief summary of his observations. “No idea what that cabin is, mind,” he concluded.
Sullivan took out a pair of binoculars and scanned the camp. “Can’t see a damn thing in all this rain,” he muttered. “The small tents, I’d say you could get three, maybe four men in each of them at a squeeze. The big one … ten, or more.”
“So we’re looking at, what, up to thirty guys?” said Lomax unhappily.
The New Zealander shook his head. “I doubt it. Thehostages are probably being held in the big tent—it’d be a lot easier to keep them all together in one place. So that’s eight people accounted for already.”
“Still twenty-two against six. I don’t like those odds.”
“We’ve got surprise on our side,” Hoyt pointed out. “We could take most of ’em out before they even knew we were here. If we had to,” he added, as Sullivan frowned at him.
“If the aid workers
are
in the big tent, I think we can get to ’em without being seen.” Chase pointed at a patch of darkness between the shelters and the path the first sentry was following. “If we timed it right, we could hide in the bushes and get across the perimeter when that guy’s heading away from us, then sneak right up behind the tents.”
“Has he followed the same route every time?” Castille asked.
“Since I’ve been watching him, yeah. He’s probably made a path and doesn’t want to move off it in the dark.”
Rios bit his lip. “We need to be sure where the hostages are. If we go in,
A light. Faint, but in the black of the jungle it stood out like a beacon. It bobbed between the trees, then vanished again, obscured by the trunks.
Chase didn’t need to see any more. The only person who would be strolling through the jungle at night with a typhoon bearing down on them was a sentry. “It’s a torch,” he whispered as Sullivan moved up to join him. “We’ve found them.”
The news sent a crackle of electricity through the group. They had been alert before; now they were fully focused, ready for action. Hoyt spat out his damp cigarette and crushed it under his boot. “Okay,” said Sullivan at another glimpse of torchlight, “he’s about two hundred meters away. We’ll stay on this level and move in to one hundred for a better look. We don’t get any closer until we’ve gotten an idea how manythere are—and
where
they are. Spread out to five-meter spacing. Eddie, lead on.”
Chase slung his rifle over his shoulder and crouched, almost on all fours as he began his cautious advance. Castille waited until a gap had opened up between them, then followed. The other men picked up the trail one by one after him, Hoyt at the rear.
By the time Chase had covered roughly half the hundred meters, he had already spotted further signs of life. The torch definitely belonged to a sentry, trudging back and forth along a curving path. There was at least one other sentry farther away, forming a perimeter. Within the circle, more lights were revealed as he got closer. Diffuse glows gradually took on the form of several tents with lamps inside, and a lantern hung at the entrance to another shelter.
He stopped a hundred meters from the camp. Beyond the tents was some sort of building, a boxy cabin. Reflected light picked out the rain running in sheets down its slab-like sides. A faint glowing rectangle marked a window in one wall. It didn’t seem to be a bunker left over from the war; it looked more like a caravan or shipping container.
He had more immediate concerns than the mystery structure, however. The two sentries were still slogging around the perimeter, and as he watched, a man emerged from one of the smaller tents and scurried across the camp to enter the largest of the shelters. The guards were not the only bandits still awake.
The other mercenaries reached him. Chase gave them a brief summary of his observations. “No idea what that cabin is, mind,” he concluded.
Sullivan took out a pair of binoculars and scanned the camp. “Can’t see a damn thing in all this rain,” he muttered. “The small tents, I’d say you could get three, maybe four men in each of them at a squeeze. The big one … ten, or more.”
“So we’re looking at, what, up to thirty guys?” said Lomax unhappily.
The New Zealander shook his head. “I doubt it. Thehostages are probably being held in the big tent—it’d be a lot easier to keep them all together in one place. So that’s eight people accounted for already.”
“Still twenty-two against six. I don’t like those odds.”
“We’ve got surprise on our side,” Hoyt pointed out. “We could take most of ’em out before they even knew we were here. If we had to,” he added, as Sullivan frowned at him.
“If the aid workers
are
in the big tent, I think we can get to ’em without being seen.” Chase pointed at a patch of darkness between the shelters and the path the first sentry was following. “If we timed it right, we could hide in the bushes and get across the perimeter when that guy’s heading away from us, then sneak right up behind the tents.”
“Has he followed the same route every time?” Castille asked.
“Since I’ve been watching him, yeah. He’s probably made a path and doesn’t want to move off it in the dark.”
Rios bit his lip. “We need to be sure where the hostages are. If we go in,
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