Trial by Fire by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2011-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

10

“Sarge!” Johnson’s voice rose in urgency. “Sarge!”

“Rude, eyes on our six!”

“Copy that, Sarge!” Bolan loped back to the front of the column. Niner Squad had made contact. They stood in a clearing with their weapons leveled. What appeared to be a prune with eyes, nose and mouth stared back in trepidation. The old man wore an old jean jacket with no shirt, cargo shorts and what looked like locally manufactured sandals. The man’s rail-thin body resembled beef jerky. He held up his hands. In his left he had a string of a dozen rope squirrels. In the other he held a single barrel shotgun. Around his neck he wore a Roman Catholic cross, and an old French Lebel revolver hung by shoelaces from its lanyard ring.

“I don’t think he’s God’s Army, Sarge.” Johnson looked at the man curiously over the front sight of his rifle. “But I thought you said there weren’t any villages nearby.”

Bolan eyed the antique revolver and noted the squirrels had all been taken with clean head shots. The primitive shotgun was leopard insurance. “He’s a hunter in the bush-meat trade. That means the river is close. He’ll have a boat. He hunts for a day or two, mostly small game, and then sells the meat and skins downriver. Everyone lower your weapons.”

Niner Squad lowered their muzzles. Their guest lowered his shotgun and his squirrels. “Parlez-vous anglais?” Bolan asked.

The hunter gave a not-so-much shrug. “Vous? Français?”

Bolan shrugged back. “Mr. Pakzad, translate for me.”

“As you wish.”

Pakzad translated nearly as fast as the two men spoke.

Bolan introduced himself. “I’m the sergeant.”

“I am Franco.”

“We’re lost.”

Franco smiled to reveal mostly missing teeth. “Oh?”

“We’re hungry, too. How much for the squirrels?” Bolan asked.

“What do you have?”

“Do you take dollars?”

“I prefer euros.”

Bolan reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. “How about gold?”

Franco regarded the gleaming, Islamic dinar between Bolan’s thumb and forefinger. “Everyone likes gold.” Caution and cupidity fought across his face. “You must really like squirrel.”

“I prefer cane rat. Pangolin is even better.”

Pakzad stumbled a little on cane rat, but Franco nodded at Bolan’s taste in bush meat. He seemed hypnotized by the coin. “I am tracking a herd of red river hogs. Do you eat pork?”

“There’s no time.”

Franco’s eyes flicked between Bolan and Pakzad. “Oh?”

“Julius Caesar Segawa is coming this way.”

Franco’s eyes bugged out of his wrinkled face as he began babbling something in the local dialect.

Pakzad rolled his eyes. “Franco is alarmed to the point he has lost his French.”

Franco shook his head and got it back. “Caesar never comes this far west, not since the soldiers from Kisangani beat him a year ago.” He gave Bolan a hopeful look. “They were trained by Americans.”

“Caesar comes for us, Franco.” Bolan gestured at the ground. “Now that your tracks are mingled with ours, I am very sorry to say he’s coming for you, too.”

Franco threw a miserable glance at his feet. Most were missing nails, and the left was missing the ring toe. “This is not good.”

“You have a boat.

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