Target Response:. William W. Johnstone

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СКАЧАТЬ will you,” Kilroy said. “Hey, I’m supposed to be bodyguarding you. What’re you trying to do, make me look bad by dying on me?”

      Raynor forced a smile. It was pretty ghastly—Kilroy could see the skull behind that smile.

      “Do I have to carry you out of here? Because we’ve got to go and I ain’t leaving you behind,” Kilroy said.

      “You hardheaded bastard. All right, I’ll stick for now. You can let go of me,” Raynor said.

      Kilroy released his grip on the other’s arm, standing ready to catch him if it looked like he was going to fall. Raynor lurched, steadying himself by taking a wider stance. “Okay, I’m all right. I may just be able to do you some good yet. Give me the weapon,” he said.

      “Now you’re talking,” Kilroy said, grabbing up the M-16 and handing it to Raynor. Raynor slung it over his right shoulder.

      A lot of dead wood littered the ground. Kilroy found a likely-looking branch and picked it up. It was three feet long, solid, mostly straight, with a knob at one end. He tested his weight against it; it seemed sturdy enough.

      “Here, use it as a cane,” he said.

      Raynor shook his head. “Don’t need it.”

      “Maybe you don’t need it now but you might later. What the hell, when you run out of ammo you can throw it at the enemy,” Kilroy said. Raynor took it.

      Twigs and pieces of rotten fruit from above began pelting the ground around the two men.

      “The monkeys are throwing them at us. Let’s get out of here before they start throwing something else,” Kilroy said.

      He and Raynor started up the long, shallow slope leading out of the basin. It was a relatively dry spot of ground, watery mud oozing up to only the tops of their boot soles with every step.

      After a few tentative strides Raynor began using the makeshift cane to brace himself. He lurched along like a drunken man but kept moving.

      The slope was covered with spindly ten-foot-tall trees whose interlaced boughs formed a thin but more or less continuous canopy. The duo slogged to the crest of the slope, the southern rim of the basin.

      It was a low elevation but still provided a vantage point of sorts. Ash-gray shadows pooled in the hollows of the landscape, thickening and thrusting east. Through a gap in the trees a stretch of the river could be seen.

      On the far side of the crest, a short downgrade slanted into a broad valley whose low point was cut by a sluggish blackwater channel that ran roughly east–west.

      At the west end of the valley it joined the river bordering the rim of the basin, the Rada River, upon which Kilroy had earlier seen the barge and on its far bank a column of troops. Neither were now in view.

      “We’ll go downhill and follow the creek to the river,” Kilroy said. Raynor grunted assent. He was saving his breath for walking.

      He and Kilroy descended into the valley. The hillside was covered with the same type of spidery, stunted trees that covered the inner wall of the basin.

      At the bottom of the hill the ground leveled off into a muddy field thick with knee-high weeds. The spidery trees thinned here, giving way to tangles of scrub brush that screened off much of the surroundings, forming a kind of maze.

      The foliage ended near the channel, leaving a five-foot-wide strip of bare earth bordering the edge of the north bank. The strip was a game trail, its muddy surface marked by the hoofprints and paw marks of the creatures that used it.

      The bank ended suddenly, dropping three feet straight down to the water below. That explained why the trail was bare of the basking crocodiles that sunned themselves on riverbanks where the water was easier to access.

      Kilroy and Raynor paused under the foliage at the edge of the tree line. Shadowy stillness was broken by the gurgling sounds of slow-running water.

      Kilroy reached out to part the bushes. Raynor’s good hand clutched the other’s shoulder. “Kilroy,” he began, soft-voiced, “if I don’t make it—”

      “You will,” Kilroy said.

      “If I don’t, when you reach Lagos, don’t trust Thurlow,” Raynor said.

      Ward Thurlow was the CIA agent who’d been the primary liaison with the Pentagon’s investigative unit, the team of which Kilroy and Raynor were now the only two survivors.

      “You’ll make it. But why Thurlow?” Kilroy asked.

      “I’ve done plenty of thinking since we took it on the run, turning the facts over in my head and trying to make sense of them. I keep coming to one conclusion: it had to be Thurlow who fingered the team to Tayambo,” Raynor said.

      “I never had much use for the guy, but how do you figure him for the Judas?”

      “Process of elimination. That the others were flying back to Washington yesterday was a closely held secret. So was the fact that you and I were nosing around at the Vurukoo fields. But only Thurlow was in a position to know both.”

      “Well…” Kilroy was doubtful.

      “There’s more,” Raynor said quickly. “I was suspicious of the extent of Thurlow’s contacts in the Lagos power structure. He was too chummy with the Tayambo crowd at the Ministry of Defense, always trying to steer the investigation away from them,” Raynor said, sounding short of breath.

      “You’re the detective. I’m just a trigger-puller. If that’s your theory, I’ll buy it.”

      “Listen, Kilroy. When you get clear of this mess, drop out of sight. Don’t use any of the usual channels to get out of the country. Our system here is compromised, rotten. Drop off the radar and go black. Not just the agency’s radar, the Pentagon’s radar, too. That way you might have a chance of getting out alive.”

      “I’ve got contacts in Lagos and alternate ways out. We’ll use ’em both,” Kilroy said. “But first we’ll roast Thurlow over a slow fire and get some answers out of him before feeding him to the crocs.”

      “I’m looking forward to it,” Raynor said, smiling wanly.

      “I’ll go first, scout along the trail. Wait here till I tell you it’s all clear,” Kilroy said.

      He parted a couple of leafy branches, stepping out onto the trail. He stood in a half crouch, rifle leveled, looking, listening. He nodded to Raynor, who was watching him from behind the screen of brush.

      Kilroy faced west and began moving forward. The valley was thick with gray gloom, giving it a feeling of unreality. A ribbon of open sky showed above the channel. Heavy clouds hung low over the treetops.

      Kilroy advanced twenty, thirty yards. The hush was intense. Even the insects had momentarily fallen silent.

      A flock of flying things suddenly burst out of the trees, the flapping of their wings seeming unnaturally loud as they broke the silence.

      They flew in a rising spiral, winged shapes swirling upward in a rushing whirlwind toward the open sky above the channel. СКАЧАТЬ