part of their escape. He would have preferred the ambush to take place at night but then they would probably not have been able to identify Chemora’s vehicle. In the early-morning light his lined face looked careworn.
David was on watch, lying on his belly and looking through Stratton’s binoculars. The Indians squatted under one of the stunted trees, keeping an eye on the rear, and Louisa sat on the empty claymore box watching Stratton sort out the rocket launchers.
Each weapon came with its own shoulder strap that Stratton was pulling out to its full length. Louisa was curious about the part the devices would play in the ambush. As time went by she was becoming more afraid. She had fought off voicing her doubts, but the thought of the ambush itself, the noise and the destruction, made her ill at ease. ‘Why do you think nothing has come along this road since last night?’ she asked eventually.
‘I have no idea,’ Stratton replied, loosening another strap and checking the weapon.
‘I would have expected an army vehicle, or a horse and cart at least.’
‘Maybe the army have locked down the area.’
‘You don’t think it’s because they know we’re here? Perhaps they saw something when they crossed the bridge last night.’
He straightened up to ease a pain in his back and scanned the surrounding hills. ‘It’s possible. But I doubt it,’ he said.
‘Why?’
‘Just a feeling.’
‘What if they don’t come?’
Stratton shrugged. ‘We wait.’
‘For how long?’
‘What do you think?’
Louisa frowned. ‘I think that ever since I mentioned my political ambitions I’ve been on some kind of leader-apprentice course. I didn’t say I wanted to be Alexander the Great, you know.’
‘Strategy plays a part in everything, including politics. The clue to the answer is in our limitations.’
‘Like food? Kebowa and Mohesiwa could probably find some. Maybe until someone falls ill. Seriously, how long would you stay here?’
‘Until I felt it was time to leave.’
Louisa rolled her eyes. ‘That’s a real grasshopper answer,’ she said, throwing a twig at him.
Victor stopped chewing and began slowly to rise without taking his gaze off the end of the valley. ‘I think I see something,’ he said.
Everyone looked in that direction.
David scrambled down the slope. ‘Stratton,’ he called out.
‘Easy, David,’ Stratton said, calming him.
‘No! Look!’ David pointed towards the bridge.
Stratton hurried to where he could see the bridge clearly.
‘One of the mines has come loose,’ David said, handing the binoculars to Stratton.
Stratton focused them on the struts above the road. David was right. A claymore had come loose from its binding and was hanging like a lantern by its wires. Anyone using the bridge would see it.
He hurried back into the wood and to the burros to get the twine.
‘Those are definitely trucks coming,’ Victor called out.
Stratton grabbed his AK47 and slung the magazine pouch over his back. As he turned away from the burros he was met by Bernard and David.
‘I think it’s one of mine,’ Bernard said, looking ashamed. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t beat yourself up about it,’ Stratton said. ‘These things happen. What we have to do now is fix it.’
As he walked around them they moved to block his way. ‘We can do it,’ David insisted. ‘If they are coming you must be here.’
Stratton knew they were right.
‘It looks like a convoy,’ Victor called out. ‘Someone pass me the binoculars.’
Stratton studied the men’s determined faces. ‘Quick as you can,’ he said. ‘Secure the mine and get back here.’ David nodded as he snatched the twine. He was about to go when Stratton grabbed his arm. ‘If you can’t make it back here without being seen just get well clear of the bridge.’
‘We’ll do it,’ David assured him. The two men set off as fast as they could.
Stratton joined Victor and looked through the binoculars. There was indeed a convoy on the road. ‘Ten, eleven vehicles,’ he said.
‘Chemora,’ Victor said, the tension in his voice obvious. ‘It has to be.’
Stratton moved up the rise to where he could see both the bridge and the convoy. David and Bernard were running like hell into the river.
‘What if they don’t have enough time?’Victor asked.
Stratton was thinking exactly the same thing. ‘It’s going to be tight, maybe too tight,’ he muttered.
‘Should I send one of my boys to get them back?’ Victor asked.
‘No.’ Stratton was calculating something.
Victor was growing anxious as it began to look like the convoy would reach the bridge before David and Bernard could complete their task.
‘Go get your Indians.’
The scientist was about to question him when he changed