Behind Mt. Baldy (46 page)

Near panic seized Roger. He dived
flat, his whole being flooded with terror. So did the others, except DS Crowe
who went into a crouch and squeezed off two shots from his pistol in quick
succession.

“Into the
trees!”
Inspector Sharpe cried.
“That way!”
He grabbed Prince
Peter and hauled him into the jungle. Roger scrambled on hands and knees behind
the nearest tree. Graham sprinted across, grabbing his webbing as he passed.

Through eyes blurry from fear
Roger looked anxiously around. He looked back and saw that the Hauptman was
crawling to join them. “Hauptman Ritnik!” he cried. Fearful lest he be hit
again Roger scuttled out and hauled him under cover.

Bullets began to thud into trees
around them. One struck the Land Rover with a metallic whang! Others cracked
past along the road. Roger could see no partisans but he could hear shouted
orders from about fifty metres down the slope. By then his heart was hammering
hard and he was almost frantic with fear.

Inspector Sharpe turned to
Graham, who now
lay
facing down the track in a fire
position behind a tree. “How many?” he queried.

“I saw three
sir
.
But I reckon twice that many from the sound,” Graham replied.

Inspector Sharpe looked around at
them. “Is everyone OK? Is anyone hit? No? Good. OK, let’s get out of here.
Crowe, you lead. Go that way,” he instructed.

“Sir,” Graham called. “That is
west. Atherton is the other way.”

“I bloody well know that. But it
is too dangerous to cross back over that road; and we can’t go north because
there are more of the bastards that way. Now move! I will come second, then the
prince. You kids help the Hauptman. Kirk, bring up the rear. And for Christ’s
sake
don’t
shoot anyone if you can avoid it.”

“Particularly us,” Peter added.

Graham sniffed at this implied
doubt as to his ability and moved into a kneeling fire position. He placed the
rifle down and hauled on his webbing, then picked the rifle up again and began
to carefully scan the jungle.

Prince Peter pointed back. “My
briefcase!” he cried in alarm.

“I have it,” Inspector Sharpe
replied.

“Please, I beg of you, do not let
the communists get it. If they do, many good people will lose their lives,”
Prince Peter said.

Inspector Sharpe nodded.
“More secrets eh?
OK.
Crowe, get moving.
Take it carefully.
Angle up hill and away from the road.”

There were more shouted orders
down in the jungle and Roger heard the sounds of men crashing through the
undergrowth as fast as they could force a passage. The sounds were coming up
hill towards them and also spreading out to their left. ‘If we don’t move fast
we will be cut off!’ he thought. A sour taste of bile rose in his throat as the
fear gripped him.
‘Trapped!’

Impelled by a desperate urge to
get away Roger rose and helped Hauptman Ritnik to his feet. The Hauptman was so
unsteady that Roger feared he would collapse but he started walking after the
others. Roger followed. A glance behind him showed Graham following. Twenty
paces brought them to the side road going west. It was an old timber road but
had been used recently and was a clear path. It curved around the gentle slope.

Inspector Sharpe pointed along
it. “Get out on this track. Go left and run,” he called. “Don’t stop till I
say; then get off the track on the right. Come on, move! It is our only chance
to make a break. Go!”

They burst out onto the track and
began to run. There were yells from down in the jungle to their left and a
sub-machine gun rattled. Roger heard the bullets thudding into trees and one
snipped a leaf just in front of his face. His whole body twitched and he ran
faster than he had ever run before. He quickly caught up with Hauptman Ritnik,
who was starting to stagger.

“Come on sir,” he called and
grabbed the Hauptman’s arm.

There were three loud gunshots
close behind. Heart in mouth Roger glanced back. It was Graham firing into the
jungle from the hip as he ran.

They pounded around the curve,
boots squelching in the wet leafmould. The group began to string out as
Hauptman Ritnik and Roger slowed down. Inspector Sharpe looked back and
called:  “Halt! Hold it!” As they slowed he pointed up the slope to the
right. “In there, quick!”

DS Crowe pushed his way into the
undergrowth and the others followed. Graham stopped and went into a kneeling
fire position behind a tree and waited till they were all off the track.

Bang!

Back along the track there was a
loud yell of fear followed by voluble shouting in Serbo-Croat.

“That’ll slow the mongrels down,”
Graham cried. Roger glanced back and saw him dash into the jungle behind him, a
grin all over his face.

By then they were all panting for
breath and the vines and ‘wait-a-while’ quickly combined to slow progress to a
walk. To Roger it was like all of his worst nightmares. He wanted to run but
his boots felt like they were made of lead, and vines kept snatching at his
ankles and legs to entangle and trip.

After a few frantic minutes, when
they had gone about fifty metres Inspector Sharpe called a halt: “OK. Stop! Now
everyone keep quiet and listen. No talking,” he whispered.

They all crouched or leaned on
trees, sweat pouring down their faces and chests heaving. Roger’s throat felt
dry and hot. He wanted to be sick. He was very scared.

Voices were still calling out
behind them, from on the track they had just left. Inspector Sharpe knelt down
and said quietly to Prince Peter: “What are they saying?”

Prince Peter shook his head and
beckoned Hauptman Ritnik. “My Serbo-Croat is not very good. The Baron will
translate.”

‘A baron!’
Roger noted, looking at the
Hauptman with even greater interest.
‘A real live baron!’
It was like seeing a Triceratops unexpectedly.

Hauptman Ritnik nodded. He said:
“Several men are calling that we have run up here. Another is ordering them to
follow. Now they are complaining that we have guns.” He grinned. “They don’t
sound very keen. This boy here, the young sergeant major, has done good work.”
He pointed to Graham, who flushed with pleasure.

Hauptman Ritnik’s face changed
abruptly to ashen seriousness and he glanced at Prince Peter and bit his lip.
“The leader has just reminded them that their mission is to kill your Royal
Highness. He is now calling on them to report.”

Roger felt a terrible coldness
around his heart. These men certainly meant business.

Hauptman Ritnik went on: “Now the
partisans are being ordered to spread out along the road and to look for our
tracks. Now they have seen where we turned off. One of them is telling the
Comrade Squad Leader. That is bad news.”

“What? That they have found our
tracks?” asked Inspector Sharpe.

Hauptman Ritnik shook his head.
“No. That he is a squad leader. There are nine men in a partisan squad; and these
are not the men who ambushed me. That means they must have a whole platoon in
the area. I fear we are in most desperate trouble. They will hunt us like wild
animals.”

Roger wasn’t sure who were the
wild animals, they or their pursuers. Inspector Sharpe compressed his lips into
a grim line and murmured: “We had better get moving. Have any of you lads got a
map?”

“I have sir,” Graham replied. He
clicked on the safety catch, then fished out his map in its plastic case and
moved up to join Inspector Sharpe. Roger pulled his map out as well and showed
it to Peter and Hauptman Ritnik.

Graham pointed to the map.
“That way sir.
North West.”

“Have you got a compass? I don’t
want us to get lost in this muck,” Inspector Sharpe asked.

Graham nodded and hauled out his
compass, still attached to his shirt by its nylon cord.

Inspector Sharpe nodded with
approval. “Good lad. You lead. Crowe, take this rifle and bring up the rear.
Have those fellows started following yet?”

Hauptman Ritnik again shook his
head. “No sir. I think they are afraid to enter the jungle. There is an
argument but I cannot make out all the words. I think it is about whether to
wait for reinforcements or not. Now they are using a radio,” he explained.

“Fine.
OK, off you go young
Kirk.
Keep it slow. And no noise from anyone,” Inspector
Sharpe ordered.

They rose and began moving at a
slow walk. Graham could not walk a straight line as he had to dodge trees,
weave around fallen logs and thick clumps of wait-a-while. All he could manage
was a general compass bearing. The course took them diagonally up a fairly
steep slope which, even at the snail’s pace they were moving at, soon had them
panting. Roger found he was sweating in spite of the cold rain drops and mist.
His leg muscles quickly began to complain.

Each minute moved the group 25 to
50 paces further away from the partisans. Roger began to hope they would not be
pursued but this was soon dashed as shouted orders behind them indicated that
the hunt had begun.

“I think they are following our
tracks,” Roger murmured to DS Crowe. He looked back and down and could detect a
faint line of disturbed leafmould, bent leaves, scuff marks on moss covered
rocks and tree roots and crushed deadfall.

“Not much we can do to avoid it,”
DS Crowe replied sourly.

“Yes we can. We can ‘Break
track’,” Roger replied.

“Break track? What are you
talking about?”

“It’s something we learn in the
cadets, to hide a camp in the jungle.”

“Tell the Inspector.”

Roger nodded and tapped Hauptman
Ritnik on the shoulder. “Pass it on. Tell Graham, he is the CSM leading us, to
explain ‘Break Track’ to the Inspector.”

The whispered message was passed
up the slowly moving line. Roger saw Graham stop and whisper to Inspector
Sharpe, who nodded. Back came the message: “Break track Right, fifty paces.”

“What does it mean?” Hauptman
Ritnik asked.

Roger beckoned DS Crowe as well,
then
explained. “First we open out, from the rear, until we
can just see the person in front and the one behind. Then, on a signal we all turn
at right angles and walk fifty paces, being careful to leave no tracks. Then we
turn left into single file again and close up on the front. That way, instead
of one obvious track made by a group of people there are eight different
tracks, all hard to find.”

The men nodded.

“We are moving. You stand still
Sgt Crowe and we open out,” Roger said. The DS did so. Roger was scared now as
he could hear the noises being made as their pursuers forced their way through
the jungle. They sounded only about fifty metres away and were coming closer. A
sharp cry of pain from one of the partisans made Roger grin with malicious
pleasure. They were discovering ‘wait-a-while’!

There was a hand signal. Roger
passed it on to DS Crowe and thankfully turned and began walking up the slope,
watching carefully where he put his feet. He tried to avoid crushing any sticks
or ferns or snapping any sticks.

The rain helped. Big heavy drops
drowned what little noise they made; and all the leaves and twigs were soggy.
Roger kept looking to his right, expecting to glimpse the advancing partisans.
However, apart from some crashing and rustling in the undergrowth he saw no
sign of them.

After about thirty paces he
realized he had been concentrating so hard on not leaving a track that he had
forgotten to count his paces. He kept watch on Hauptman Ritnik on his left. The
Hauptman seemed to be angling away from him so Roger kept edging in his
direction. He looked around continually, both to check that DS Crowe was still
in sight; and for the first sign of a partisan. It took all his willpower to
keep moving at a slow walk.

Several times Roger had to detour
around clumps of wait-a-while and once he had to backtrack to go around a large
mass of it. DS Crowe followed him and on the far side, on a steep slope studded
with large moss-covered boulders and ferns, they found Stephen and Peter
waiting. They signalled to them to turn left and close in.

The group closed up till Roger
could see Graham again.

“All here?” whispered Inspector
Sharpe.

“Yes sir,” DS Crowe replied.

“OK, keep moving.”

Graham led off again on the same
compass bearing. This took them along the side of the mountain. Roger listened
and was sure he could hear movement only twenty or so paces down the slope to
his left. He strained his eyes but could see no-one.

For about twenty minutes they
walked slowly along with no word spoken. The rain grew heavier and in under the
tree canopy it was very dark and gloomy. Roger shivered with cold. They covered
several hundred metres. Suddenly, far down to their left rear, there was a loud
cry. They all stopped and looked that way. The man’s voice called again.