the HQ tent Steel, Ventura and several army officers were enjoying drinks and cigars. They had heard the shots and shouting and were waiting patiently, knowing that they would learn what the noise meant soon enough. Steel had a sudden uncomfortable feeling about it and got to his feet.
Before he reached the tent’s entrance a young officer wearing a soaked poncho pushed aside the flap. ‘The Englishman has escaped,’ he said, out of breath, his face dripping wet.
‘Goddamn it!’ Steel shouted, losing his usual control. ‘How the hell did he do that?’
‘There are two dead men where he was tied up,’ the officer replied. ‘He fled into the jungle.’
‘What are you standing here for?’ the American shouted. ‘Take that company of men out there sitting on their asses and go find him!’
The officer glanced at Ventura for confirmation. Ventura nodded.
Steel tossed his cigar to the floor. ‘Son of a bitch!’
‘Quite a resourceful individual,’ Ventura said smoothly. ‘I’ve never seen you this riled before.’
‘That guy pisses me off, that’s all. I should’ve killed him when I had the chance.’
‘Does it really matter? He is insignificant. He’s wearing nothing but his shorts. He probably won’t even make it to the border.’
Steel reined in his anger. ‘I like to keep things clean.’ He slumped back into his chair and stared ahead thoughtfully.
‘Why does he bother you so much?’ Ventura asked, curious at Steel’s reaction.
‘He doesn’t.’
Ventura was not convinced.
Stratton went at an easy jog through the jungle. As suddenly as it had begun the rain stopped and he could hear only his own breathing and his feet slapping on the mud. He caught another sound behind him, like a snapping stick in the distance. He stopped in his tracks and listened.
Stratton found it hard to believe that anyone had followed him this far but there was definitely something out there. He heard it again, in the same direction. And it was getting closer. It might have been an animal but that was unlikely. A jaguar, possibly. Either way, Stratton did not want to find out. He got going and increased his pace.
He ran as stealthily as he could but did not let up on his speed. After a couple of hundred metres he paused again to listen, trying to control his breathing.
There was nothing.
Just as he was beginning to think that he was not being followed, he heard the sound of feet running through wet mud. A bolt of fear shot through him. He was indeed being pursued.
Stratton broke into a hard run. The foliage thickened but he drove through it. He dodged between trees and leapt over fallen logs. The sound of something pushing through the undergrowth behind him revealed its presence. Stratton began to doubt he could shake it but he could not risk stopping to ambush whatever or whoever it was. If there were several armed men he would be screwed.
The ground dropped away and he ran downhill. He let gravity aid his speed, controlling it enough so as not to run headlong into a tree. He sidestepped obstacles nimbly in his bare feet.
The sound behind was constant now. They were gaining on him. Stratton burst through a thicket and the ground disappeared suddenly beneath his feet as he dropped onto a steep muddy slope. He fell onto his backside and slid downhill out of control, crashing through bushes like a runaway cart. He side-struck a tree, rolled onto his back and tumbled through some bushes to become airborne for a second before hitting water. His back struck the bottom of a shallow stream but he did not wait to check his surroundings. He was up and running through the knee-deep water as fast as he could. He searched both banks for an exit but thick bushes bordered the sides and they did not look easily penetrable.
The stream ran straight, a problem for Stratton if the pursuers reached it soon and had a rifle. A crash and splash behind warned him that his hunter had found the water. Stratton could feel the weapon’s sights zeroed on his back as he ran. He had to get out of there and he dived for the bank, scrambling up it. But it was steep and as he clawed desperately he lost his footing and slid back down. He grabbed at anything to stop himself but the mud came away in his hands.
As he hit the stream again he caught a glimpse of a figure coming at him and heard the loud splashing of running