Counterpoint (31 page)

“Get up” shrieked Carla. “His men are
running this way now. Max got up, lifting the big man bodily like a
large doll, and dumped him in the back of the truck.

“We need him to tell us who is behind
all this,” shouted Max, unnecessarily. In an instant, he was behind
the steering wheel. Carla jumped into the passenger seat and the
truck spun round in the dirt, heading back towards the
mountains.

“Thanks love,” Said Max to the
astonished Carla.

She could not believe what she had
seen. First Max goes mad and attacks a pro, messes up, she has to
sort it out with well-aimed shots to the pro’s shoulders to spoil
his aim and a finally, good pistol whipping to close him down. Then
Max tosses a 16 stone he-man into the truck like a straw bale.

“Well, we got him didn’t we?” Said
Max.

“Yes, we did,” she retorted whilst
hanging on to the bucking and lurching truck.

“We also have all his mates up our ass
and no plan yet, how to get away with it.”

“Trust me!” Max shouted back over the
racing engine.

Carla re-holstered her popgun and then
climbed into the bed of the truck. She groped for, and pulled free
the machine gun from the mercenary’s body, pulled out the magazine
and threw it away. By feel, she found a new one on his webbing and
fitted it. Cocking the gun she braced herself, sat upright on the
bed with legs apart, her feet each side of the tailgate.

Distant lights of pursuing vehicles
were shining through the trees; the chase was on.

“I’m going to head for the waterfall,”
shouted Max.

“Well I’m in no mood for a fuck,” she
said laughing. Max grinned; he knew she was enjoying herself. She
lived for the buzz of adrenalin; she had missed it over the last
couple of months.

“At least we know the territory,” he
continued. “Perhaps we can get across the river at the shallow part
and increase the potential places to hide. They can’t search them
all at once.”

“Don’t forget we have action-man to lug
around,” she shouted back. “We are not going to get far with him;
we are bound to get caught.”

“Trust me,” murmured Max to himself,
“I’m an amateur.”

He knew she was right though; it was
only a matter of time before the rest of the mercenaries caught up
with them. Sure, they have a good start, but they were on the only
road going nowhere. Soon the road would peter out at the old survey
site. Ahead, was a small clearing and a stiff climb up the slope to
the waterfall. With luck, the truck might make it up the slope, if
they have enough speed, and did not hit any outcrops of rock. After
that, they would have to travel 100 metres upstream along the bank
to the shallow part of the river.

There were large rocks in the river
that might provide some cover, but they had to get to the jungle on
the other side to stand any real chance of escape.

The good news was there was no moon,
and without headlights, they might maintain a lead by not giving
their position away. The bad news was, the smooth incline had many
rocky outcrops, and they had to miss them all.

Max turned out the lights as he entered
the last straight stretch of track before the survey site and the
clearing beyond. He had to get his approach right, to reach the
familiar slope up to the waterfall.

Carla abandoned her rear guard position
and decided to get up front again to help Max navigate. They could
not afford to make a mistake.

Skilfully, Max drove the truck through
the clearing and up the slope. As his road speed dropped due to the
climb, he doubled de-clutched into lower gears like an expert, to
maintain revs and maximum torque, without losing forward momentum
during the change. As the truck climbed, their groundspeed got
lower and lower, swerving to miss the rocks slowed them down even
more.

Carla looked behind. “They are through
the clearing now and gaining fast. Bad luck, their headlights
picked out the torn up ground made by our truck tyres.” The
mercenaries only had to follow them to catch up.

Within a few metres of the grassy knoll
at the top of the slope, the truck came to a halt, tyres scrabbling
on the spot.

“I’ll carry the guy in the back,”
commanded Max, “Turn the truck around and let it roll down the
slope into them.”

Carla had already figured that out and
leapt into the driver’s seat.

The 30-degree incline seemed precarious
enough when pointing up it; she now had to do a two-point turn in
the dark. Would the truck rollover on its side as she turned?

Carla leaned out of the driver’s door
like a counterweight or outrigger whilst manipulating the steering
wheel. As the vehicle coasted back and arced around, she felt her
side lift. She hung on, ready to jump clear. As the front swung
round, the truck slammed down again on all four wheels. Next she
lined up the truck with the pursuers, let it roll forward and leapt
out.

The fact no one was steering was
academic, after the first few seconds of freedom, the truck shot
over an outcrop of rock, and became airborne. Front heavy, it
eventually nosedived into the ground just in front of the leading
pursuer. The impact flipped Carla’s truck over on top of them,
raining doors, shards of glass and tools on the two following
trucks. Eight mercenaries still survived but had to continue the
pursuit, on foot, up a long hill.

Carla did not wait to see the results
of her handiwork, but ran to join Max, glancing down the slope as
she went. She had hoped the fuel tank would explode, but it
didn’t.

Carla could see Max in the distance or
at least a large dark blob staggering along, contrasted with the
lighter grey of the river. Lithe as a gazelle she soon caught him
up. It was no surprise Max was panting like an asthmatic
90-year-old marathon winner, having run 100 metres with a 16 stone
man over his shoulder.

“I have got to stop,” gasped Max as he
fell in a heap on the bank at the shallows. Carla pulled the still
unconscious man off Max and checked the man’s pulse again. He was
alive in the truck, but was he still alive? Yes, there it was, good
and strong. She opened an eye and touched the eyeball. He
twitched.

“Seems like he is worth taking with
us,” she said.

“Great,” wheezed Max,
sarcastically.

“We must go now,” urged Carla “Before
the mercenaries reach the top.”

“OK!” Was all Max could manage to
utter.

Carla lead and Max carried the man and
they quickly entered the fast-moving, icy water.

“Stop!” Gasped Max. “See if there is
any rope in his pack.”

They dumped the man on the bank
again.

“There is some thin stuff, a sizable
length, probably to tie up his victims.”

“Enough to link us together?”

“Yes, easily.”

Quickly they tied themselves together,
with the man in the middle, and waded in again. The water was waist
deep and the current extremely strong, threatening to sweep them
away.

The river bed was an even sheet of
rock, providing a sure footing, apart from large rocks or boulders
strewn randomly over the whole area.

They were halfway across when the
mercenaries reached the bank of the shallows. The mercenaries had
gone towards the waterfall first, then backtracked, soon spotting
shadowy figures moving through the rocks.

Suddenly Carla let out a brief gurgling
scream and disappeared under the water. She had been in the lead
and had rounded a large rock. The rope went tight, pulling Max off
his feet and under the water, in the swirling torrent. From the
tension on the rope, Carla and the man were being swept along.
Unless he could get a grip on a rock or the rope became snagged,
there was no way Max could hold both of them; he had to go with the
flow.

Carla had been caught in the grip of a
whirlpool and it pulled her off her feet, as she rounded the rock.
The current pulled her along the rocky riverbed, too smooth to hang
onto. Suddenly she was dropping like a stone; only the thin rope
biting into her waist offered any support in the icy blackness.

The rope slackened for an instant, as
the man was pulled down into the vortex of the whirlpool, then
tight, then slack again.

As Max was pulled into the vortex all
three of them fell through a hole in the riverbed, like spiders
down a plughole.

The mercenary started to regain
consciousness as he went under the icy water. He struggled and
clawed to escape the choking water, roaring in his ears and
terrifying blackness. Nothing made sense, intense cold, spinning
wildly in a deafening black suffocating space, for what appeared to
be, eternity.

Carla was breathing in when she lost
her footing and expelled most of the air in her lungs when she
screamed. Her body needed oxygen. Now!

There was no way of knowing what she
could do to breathe again, no chance of planning an escape from the
lonely, chaotic, suffocating death just seconds away. Her ears hurt
from the roaring torrent of water and pressure. Swirling round so
fast, she couldn’t find her nose to pinch it and adjust the air
pressure to her eardrums. The pain would end soon, she thought,
when death took hold.

Max felt the swirling, falling
sensation ease up. Something touched his hand, a rock, and he
instinctively held on only to be ripped away by the other two tied
to him. He felt the pain like the others from the noise and
pressure, and the terror of drowning in this awful blackness.

Again, he caught hold of a rock, this
time with both hands. It dragged a short distance, stopping as the
pull from his tethered colleagues eased off. Planting his feet on
the rocky bottom Max thrust upwards, hopefully to the surface. He
closed his eyes and concentrated every effort on clawing and
kicking his legs as he swam upwards. The current was much less
strong now, even buoying him upwards. As he swam, he felt the
smooth, rippled surface of a rock face. From it, he could tell he
was being swept sideways and rapidly upwards.

Suddenly his head broke the surface in
a boiling foam of tortured water. Clinging on to a rock ledge he
hauled himself up onto it. The drag from the other two, threaten to
pull him back in.

With the last dregs of energy, he lay
with his chest and belly on the flat ledge. Swinging his legs clear
of the water, he rolled over and pulled in on the rope. By touch
alone in the total darkness, he dragged the man onto the ledge,
face down. Fumbling frantically for the rope attached to Carla he
pulled it in for all he was worth.

How he longed to see her cheeky grin
again, to hear her voice, to run his fingers through her silky
blond hair.

“Carla!” He shouted as his efforts on
the rope increased.

At last, he felt her body.
Unceremoniously he lifted her out of the water by the rope around
her slim waist, straightened her out, and applied C.P.R.

After just two compressions, she
coughed and spluttered.

“OK! OK! Enough! My tit’s on a rock,
and it hurts.” Coughing again, she sat up. Max felt for the man. He
had a feeble pulse so started to pump the water from his lungs.

“Where do you think we are?” Came
Carla’s shout over the roar of cascading water in the inky
darkness. Max didn’t know or have the strength to shout a reply.
Carla groped the darkness until she found Max. She knew he was
trying to bring the man round and decided to search the body for a
torch or cigarette lighter. She found a lighter in his pocket. It
was the disposable type. Blowing hard in the mechanism to clear out
any water, it ignited after a couple of strikes. From the light,
they could see they were on a small ledge, at the rim of a vast
pool. Water cascaded into the centre from a hole in the riverbed
above. The meagre light hardly penetrated the dense mist of
pulverised water, but it was enough to show they were far from
getting out alive.

Carla eased off the man’s backpack as
Max continued to work on him. Then she searched it for useful
items. There was a torch, and it still worked.

Suddenly, the man coughed and came
round. In the dim light and deafening roar, he could not comprehend
his predicament; however, he was not under attack, so he remained
passive to recover his strength and wits.

Max rested for a while before he spoke.
Pulling Carla close to him, he cuddled and kissed her.

“Don’t get horny, ” she warned loudly
in his ear, “I have had a bad day, a lousy evening, my hair is a
mess, and I may have chipped a nail.”

He could see she was
grinning. He adored her
feisty maid
act when she ended with a cheeky grin.

Max shouted in the man’s ear. “We are
all in deep shit and need to work together if we are to stand any
chance of getting out of here alive. So don’t do anything
stupid.”

The man said nothing,
but checked for his weapons. “Don’t bother” shouted Carla “I’ve
given you a full body search
big
boy
.”

“Who was this bitch, ” he thought, then
remembered the dossier on the only female in the survey team. A
girl of mystery, it appeared there was more known about the tooth
fairy than her. The man looked at Max in the torchlight. Something
did not add up with him either. He looked like the old man in the
survey team, but was obviously fit, like a young man. It must have
been a lousy photo, or the poor light in here, he thought.

"We're going to explore," said Max to
the man. “Stay here and we will come back for you.”

“No, ” he replied firmly, “We will all
go together.”

“Just as long as you are up to it, ”
replied Max.

“If you can make it old-timer then, so
can I” he replied.

“We will stay roped together then,”
said Carla.

She adjusted the machine-gun strap and
slung it over her shoulder, ejected the magazine from the pistol
and cleared the breach for the round and pocketed it. She then
handed the gun back to the man so he could carry it.