large, the pilot might assume that the entire plane had blown up.
The Mirage came round for another low, slow pass. Even something the size of the Cessna slashing through the all-encompassing canopy would only have left a small scratch; the pilot wouldn’t be able to spot more than a few scraps of wreckage through the trees.
Or so Eddie hoped. He waited, the engine roar growing louder. Another brief flash of something large and deadly above . . .
And gone. The thunder faded as the Mirage accelerated away, heading northwest. Back to the airbase.
‘Think they’ll come back?’ Macy hesitantly asked.
‘Not in a jet,’ said Eddie. He carefully lowered Valero. Macy and Osterhagen put Becker beside him. ‘They might send a chopper or a foot patrol, but I reckon that pilot thinks we’re dead. The wing made a pretty big bang. And speaking of which, better grab what I can before the rest of the plane catches fire.’ He hurried back into the wreck, re-emerging with a handful of charts, Becker’s hat, a torch and a plastic bottle of water. ‘Couldn’t find the first aid kit – it must have been sucked out of the hatch.’
‘So what can we do to help Ralf ?’ Osterhagen asked. ‘And Oscar?’
‘I still think Ralf’ll be fine if we get him to a hospital,’ said Eddie. ‘Oscar, though . . . ’ Even a cursory glance told him that things did not look good for the Venezuelan. The deep head wound needed sterilising, stitches and bandages – none of which he could provide.
He lifted Valero’s hand to get a better look at his broken fingers – and the man jerked awake with a scream. Macy jumped back, startled. Valero cried out in Spanish, writhing. Eddie tried to hold him down. ‘Oscar! Oscar, stay still. You’re hurt. Don’t try to move.’
He tried to wash a little water over the gash above Valero’s ear, but he flinched away. ‘Eddie, you’ve got to get to – to Caracas. Tell militia about . . . ’ His face twisted in pain. ‘Callas. Tell them about Callas.’
‘We can’t leave you behind,’ Eddie insisted. ‘We’re not far from Puerto Ayacucho. We can get you to a hospital.’
Valero shook his head, the movement clearly causing him great suffering. ‘No,’ he said, his voice falling to a hoarse whisper. ‘In my head, I can – I can feel it. Something hurts, it hurts so bad. You have to—’ The tendons in his throat pulled tight as he convulsed in agony, a strangled moan escaping. ‘Clubhouse, Callas is at – the Clubhouse. Stop . . . him . . . ’ Another spasm, mouth open wide in silent torment . . . then he relaxed, his final breath softly leaving his body.
Eddie, Macy and Osterhagen stared at him in silence. Macy was the first to look away, eyes brimming with tears. Osterhagen rubbed his head with a shaking hand. ‘A burst blood vessel, perhaps . . . I don’t know.’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Eddie stiffly. He reached down to close Valero’s pain-stricken eyes. ‘We know who caused it. Callas. And Stikes. All of this is because of them. Oscar was right – we’ve got to stop them.’ He stood.
‘Can we really get to this Puerto place?’ Macy asked quietly.
‘Yeah. We’re maybe seven or eight miles away as the crow flies – but if we go due west, we’ll get to a main road a lot quicker.’ He unrolled a chart and showed her. ‘About four miles, a bit more. We can hitch a lift.’
‘What about Ralf?’ Osterhagen asked.
‘I’ll carry him.’
‘All the way?’ Macy exclaimed.
‘I can manage. You take this.’ He tossed her the torch. ‘Once we’re out of this swamp, the chart says there’s no rivers and the terrain’s pretty flat, so it shouldn’t be too bad. We’ve got less than half an hour of light left, so we need to get moving. Doc, give me a hand.’ Osterhagen helped him hoist Becker in a fireman’s lift. The injured man moaned faintly, but didn’t fully wake up. ‘Okay, let’s get going.’
Time in the cell blurred past as if in a fever dream, the after-effects of the poisoning lingering like a sickness. Nina drifted in and out of consciousness, unsure whether moments or minutes had passed each time she closed her eyes.
She felt the swirling, clammy darkness rising to swallow her again, and shifted her head, resting it against the metal bars for the coolness they provided. But it didn’t last long. The awful weariness pulled at