Len Deighton - Mamista by Mamista

Author:Mamista [Mamista]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

12

ROSARIO.

‘It might all solve itself.’

By the time thatRosariowas fully awake, the MAMista were no more than a distant hum from many miles down the valley. Little sign of their sojourn remained except the warm ashes of the fire and dozens of MAMista posters which had been fixed neatly over the government ones. Each poster was the same. A caustic reference to the government’s literacy test, which deprived most of the village of the right to vote, the posters showed a crudely drawn machine gun with a single admonition -Vota!

Rosario’s postmaster carefully swept his office before testing the stand-by radio and trying, unsuccessfully, to make contact with the provincial capital. Two Indians, assigned to remove the posters, were working slowly. Henri, the shopkeeper, was burning the money that the guerrillas had paid to him. It was paper money, and such banknotes had usually come from one of the guerrillas’ bank hold-ups. Sometimes the numbers were known. It was better that it was burned.

The day was hot and humid with low clouds that did not move. The guerrillas were thankful for it; the government planes could not fly low over the mountains in such weather as this. So, without bothering to camouflage their vehicles,nor to hide their tracks, with no sudden alarms to make them drive off under the jungle canopy, the convoy made good progress south.

Ralph Lucas was lolling back in his seat and looking at the breathtaking scenery. He had come to terms with the hardships and come to terms with the guerrillas too.

Across from him Gerald Singer was driving one of the big GMC trucks. He’d offered to do so, and even the ever suspicious Maestro could see no harm in it. Between Singer and Lucas, Angel Paz was standing at the machine gun mounted on the roof of the cab. His head and shoulders were in the rushing air and he could toy with the gun and keep up a constant criticism of Singer’s driving.

He bent down to call, ‘Keep closer to the truck ahead. Didn’t you hear what I told you?’

As Paz resumed his standing position Singer turned his head and carefully mouthed an obscenity. Lucas grinned. Paz seemed to do everything he could to provoke antagonism. Lucas had seen such men in the army: newly commissioned subalterns and keen young corporals determined to be the new broom that swept clean. They didn’t see - as Angel Paz didn’t see - that their constant goading disturbed both higher and lower ranks. Such soldiers were always disposed of; some were posted off to rot in headquarters, others to get their heads blown off in battle. What would happen to Angel Paz, he wondered.

The truck rattled over a rough piece of verge so that Lucas was bounced in his seat. ‘Keep to the centre of the road, you stupid bastard!’ It was Angel Paz again, head bent and eyes glaring. Singer didn’t turn his head. Controlling such a big vehicle on the narrow muddy roads demanded all his care and attention, and yet there was still a part of his mind free to remember.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.