Victor whistled at the Indians as he reached the edge of the small wood and beckoned them to follow him.
Stratton headed down the slope towards the road. Victor reached the side of the rise, saw Stratton and broke into a sprint towards him.
Halfway to the river Stratton turned to walk parallel to it, away from the bridge and towards the oncoming convoy.
He squatted in some foliage and studied the road while Victor caught up. ‘Which one of your boys is the best shot?’ he asked when the Frenchman arrived out of breath.
Victor shrugged. ‘They’re both good.’
‘Then we’ll use them both. I need this convoy stopped well short of the bridge,’ Stratton said. ‘They have to shoot out one of the tyres of the front vehicle.’
‘But Chemora’s men will see the arrows sticking out of the wheel,’ Victor argued. ‘They’ll know that someone has attacked them.’
‘They’ll see a couple of Indians’ arrows. What are they going to do, call in an air strike? Get out of there as soon as the arrows hit the tyres. If they can’t see you they won’t come after you.’
‘You’re so sure?’
‘No. But who’s going to chase a couple of crazy Indians around the countryside when there’re places to go, things to do?’
Victor’s breathing was rapid, adrenalin coursing through his veins. He realised Stratton was studying him. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
Stratton had been wondering if Victor was up to it but he smiled to reassure the man. ‘You’re a good guy, Victor. I’m glad you’re here.’
‘You just want my company when they hang us,’ the Frenchman said. He looked from the convoy to the bridge. ‘I don’t suppose we have any other choice.’
‘Or any more time,’ Stratton added.
Victor understood. He faced the two young men and explained what he needed of them. A moment later all three set off towards the river.
‘I’ll be back at the firing point,’ Stratton called out.
‘I’ll see you there,’ Victor said, hurrying to catch up with Kebowa and Mohesiwa.
Stratton gave the convoy a last look before heading back, this time at the crouch, conscious that the slope would soon be in visual range of the lead truck’s passengers.
When he reached the rise Louisa was crouched behind the ridge from where she had been watching him. ‘Can I ask what we’re doing?’
‘We need to delay the convoy to give David and Bernard more time.’
Her nervousness grew. The ambush had begun in earnest and there were already complications.
‘Still glad you came?’ Stratton asked.
‘Don’t make fun of me. You’re so comfortable in your world. I’m glad I’m seeing it. In some ways it allows me to understand my father a little better. I often saw the planning and the aftermath but never the dreadful deeds themselves.’
Louisa watched Stratton remove the magazine from his assault rifle, pull back the working parts to extract the bullet that was in the chamber, give the mechanism a quick check and reload the weapon. He then gave his pistol an equivalent once-over and replaced it in his holster.
The gap between the lead truck and the bridge was closing. David and Bernard were scaling the side of the bridge.
‘Steel said the rebellion depended on the success of this ambush,’ Stratton said. ‘Right now that success depends on the arrows of a couple of Indians.’
Victor followed Kebowa and Mohesiwa at a crouching run through the sparse brush. He had never done anything as dangerous as this before. His natural inclination was to worry about what could go wrong but he forced the thoughts out of his head. There was no point to them any more. He was going to carry out the crazy task. The rest of the operation depended on it.
He was suddenly concerned that they were getting too close to the road and worried that the Indians had misunderstood the plan. He made a series of mouth clicks and whistles in order to halt them. When they stopped he sought their assurance that they had understood what was required. Victor had never become fluent in their language and neither had they in his. But there had never been a more critical moment where they could ill afford to get it wrong. They explained with a combination of words and gestures that such a shot was not as easy as Victor might think. They had to hit a moving target and not a very big one at that.