thanks to you. The divisions are firmly along the lines of Sebastian and the rest of you. Many who used to support Sebastian would now like to see him gone . . . Don’t tell me you haven’t considered killing him yourself. Wasn’t it you who said that peace for all is more important than any individual? You have commanded men in the field. You understand the need for sacrifice. Perhaps you have doubts of your own that you’re not telling us.’
‘I don’t have doubts,’ Hector growled.
‘I have one. You, Hector . . . I’m beginning to doubt that you’re the man to bring this rebellion to an end.’
Hector moved close to Ventura, looming over him.
Ventura was not fazed by Hector’s size. ‘Don’t be under any illusions about our position,’ he said. ‘You came to us looking for a solution to end this rebellion. We listened and sympathised. But there is a limit to our patience and our belief in you. If you cannot deliver the conditions required for these negotiations to take place we will recommence hostilities and punish you. You know what needs to be done. I know you have the courage to do it. I’m not sure if you have the will, or the intellect.’
Hector gritted his teeth, his anger boiling over, but Ventura did not stay long enough to face his glare.
Stratton headed up the track from the log cabins, passing the stables on his way to the training area. He felt a little stiff in places after his fall from the horse and he had a few painful bruises on his arms. He put it all behind him by working out his schedule in his mind. He estimated that he could be on the road by around late afternoon, which would give him a couple of hours of daylight to get some distance from the camp. With luck he would make the border on the morning of the second day. He could pretty much imagine the rest of the trip, in particular the last stretch: the train journey from Waterloo Station to Poole and then a pint in the Blue Boar with some of the lads, if any of them were in town. He was looking forward to sleeping in his own bed in his own house, and to making dinner in his own kitchen and watching a good movie and enjoying a glass of good wine. It seemed like a million miles from where he was at that moment but in three or four days he would be there. Just the thought of it made him feel better.
A group of men were waiting for him as he headed down from the top of the rise near the corral. They sat around enjoying the sun and chatting lightheartedly.
When the men saw Stratton approach they got to their feet. The young teacher, David, was one of them; the others Stratton recognised from the supply pick-up - particularly the two who had nicked the rockets for the ambush.
Stratton nodded to David and greeted the others.They seemed unsure how to treat the mercenary, as he was known around the camp: the man who was not one of them and who held no rank. But it was obvious to all of them that Stratton was an experienced soldier, and no ordinary one at that if the parachute drop was anything to go by, a feat beyond any of them. There was also the way he conducted himself generally, the ease with which he adapted and how he carried himself and his weapons. They didn’t know much about him but enough to believe anything he had to say about soldiering.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked the one who had fired the rocket the previous day.
‘Miguel,’ the man replied somewhat sheepishly.
‘How’re your burns?’ Stratton asked.
‘Okay,’ Miguel said, ruefully indicating the bulge of the bandaging under his trousers to the amusement of the others.
Stratton looked at the other man who had tried to fire a rocket.
‘Umberto,’ the man said, with a grin.
‘Would you like to learn how to fire a rocket correctly?’
‘Is there something else I can learn?’ he asked. ‘I don’t like those things.’
The men laughed again.
The next man in line was powerfully built with a more sombre demeanour than the others. ‘Carlos,’ he said.
Stratton nodded and looked at the next.
‘Eduardo,’ he said.
Stratton nodded again and walked a few paces to where he could face them all. ‘The plan is to show you how to use the rockets and the claymore mines