Manus Xingue (3 page)

‘Thirteen hundred hours,’ replies Murphy, glancing over at the three Southerners. ‘They’re planning a move soon, Sir – we have to do something.’

‘We have to play for time,’ replies Peterson. ‘Make out the Satcom’s not working – take the pressure off. I told them we are here requesting a re-supply drop – that’s why I brought the extra mules.’

‘Goddamn
hillbillies!
’ responds Private Murphy. ‘I sure wouldn’t like to run out of gas in their neck of the woods.’

Peterson smiles: ‘I’ve seen the film, Murphy.’

Private Murphy finishes setting up the Satcom set. ‘I better fill our canteens, Sir, in case there’s trouble.’

Private Murphy walks towards the river, passing Indian Joe who is chanting a dirge on the large flat rock and looking up at the sky.

As Murphy passes the three Southerners, Sgt Hogger calls him over. ‘Murphy… what’s going on?… where you going, boy?’

‘Satcom’s not giving a signal. I’m just filling the canteens, Sergeant.’

‘Well I declare – now ain’t that just pretty?’ sneers Elmer Hagger.

‘When’s the satellite due, Murphy?’ Hogger asks.

‘Fifteen hundred hours, Sir,’ Murphy lies, continuing to the river.

‘Do you believe him, Jubel – about the Satcom not working?’ Elmer asks.

‘Hell, it don’t matter none. Things are fine and dandy boys – we have a whole two hours to kill the lieutenant and Murphy.’

‘What about Indian Joe, Jubel?’ asks Mordicai, returning with the mules.

‘When the shooting starts, Indian Joe will get
rabbit
in his blood and bolt, but he’ll be back – for more white powder,’ replies Jubel.

‘Goddamn, Jubel. You sure have things figured out real fine,’ says Mordicai.

‘That’s why I got these three white stripes here, cousin, and you only got crow shit on your sleeve.’

Private Murphy returns to Peterson with the filled canteens.

‘What did our Southern friends want to know?’ the Lieutenant asks.

‘Sgt Hogger wanted to know when the satellite was due, Sir. I told him fifteen hundred hours. That gives us two hours’ grace to make that call. We will have to do something soon Sir – before they make their move.’

‘Well done Murphy,’ replies Peterson, ‘I’ll send them on a patrol, out of the way, while we make the call. Colonel Smith will have armed troops aboard when the choppers arrive – they’ll deal with our Southern friends.’

Peterson and Private Murphy approach the three hillbillies.

‘Sgt Hogger, I want you and the men to check our perimeter before the choppers arrive. There could be hostiles in the area.’

‘Yes Sireee Lieutenant,’ replies Hogger in an insubordinate manner, ‘Me and the boys are plum-tuckered and figured we would sit a spell.’

‘That’s an order, soldier!’ commands Peterson.

‘Sure thing,’ answers Hogger, ‘but we are one man
shy,
Lieutenant. Perhaps you can kindly loan us old Murphy here – we can split into two groups, make life easy, like?’

The Lieutenant pauses – thinks about the proposition. It would leave him alone to make the call, but endanger the life of Private Murphy. However, to refuse would force the Southerners into action.

‘Ok Sergeant,’ he says eventually. ‘Take Murphy.’ Private Murphy is not pleased. ‘It’s ok Murphy,’ the Lieutenant assures.

The four soldiers cross the river and disappear into the jungle. Jubel whispers to Mordicai, ‘Use your knife – make sure he don’t holler none!’

Reaching the other side of the river, the four US Special Force soldiers split. Jubel and Elmer walk downstream and sit on a log. They watch Mordicai and Murphy go upstream. Mordicai puts the gimp-mask back
on
.

‘Let’s take out the Lieutenant now, Jubel,’ Elmer suggests.

‘Hang loose, cousin,’ replies the Sergeant, ‘let him settle some.’

Private Murphy positions himself close behind Mordicai – his rifle pointing at the gimp-mask-wearing hillbilly’s back.

‘That son-of-a-bitch Murphy has got Mordicai hog–tied, Jubel – sticking that close behind like,’ Elmer observes.

‘Yeah,’ answers Jubel, ‘Murphy’s so close to Mordicai they could be walking out together. Well let’s do something about it, cousin!’

Back at the riverbank, Peterson checks his watch and searches the cloudless sky for the satellite. Upstream, Murphy is still keeping well behind Mordicai: who stops.

‘It’s kinda lonesome up front, Murphy – take over a spell?’

‘You’re doing just fine, Mordicai,’ answers Murphy. ‘Keep walking,
cousin
!’

Suddenly there’s a noise behind Private Murphy. Jubel and Elmer appear! Murphy is forced to turn his back on Mordicai – who draws a knife, plunging it into Murphy’s back – killing him!

Jubel Hogger just happens to look up and sees the satellite pass overhead through a gap in the canopy. He checks his watch.

‘Goddamn sister-fucker Murphy lied! We got’a get back before the Lieutenant makes that call!’

The three soldiers hurry back to the riverbank.

Peterson has just got through to base and is talking to Colonel Smith at US Special Force jungle base in Colombia.

‘Sir, I don’t have much time – the CT set has been sabotaged. I have the money at a suitable pick-up site.’

‘Hold on, Peterson,’ replies Colonel Smith. ‘I have two Black Hawks in the air, heading in your direction – there are armed troops aboard. Give your co-ordinates to the pilots – I cannot trust anyone here at base, especially Major Bodeen……where is Murphy?’

‘I sent him with Sgt Hogger and the Hagger boys, Sir, to check the perimeter.’

‘Now listen, Peterson!’ Colonel Smith orders urgently. ‘As soon as you have given the pilots your position, get the hell out of there – Murphy is not coming back!’

‘Yes, Sir,’ answers the Lieutenant, placing down the receiver and picking up his compass to take a bearing from the satellite. Peterson memorises the co-ordinates, then buries the compass and tries to contact the pilots of the helicopters. Too late – he sees Jubel and Elmer hurrying, splashing across the river towards him. The Lieutenant draws his 45 and holds it out of sight as the two soldiers approach.

‘Well I declare,’ says Jubel, ‘you weren’t trying to get through to Washington, were you, Lieutenant?

‘The set’s playing up. I cannot get a signal,’ replies the Lieutenant. The Lieutenant does not realise that Mordicai is silently creeping up behind him: still wearing the gimp-mask!

‘Now ain’t that a holy shame,’ replies Jubel, lowering his rifle. Peterson immediately covers Jubel and Elmer with his pistol.

‘Where’s Murphy?’ he demands.

‘Back there apiece – taking a little shuteye,’ grins Elmer Hagger.

Mordicai Hagger plunges his knife into the Lieutenant’s back! Peterson crumbles!

‘Hallelujah - I stuck him good, Jubel,’ boasts Mordicai.

‘What do we do now, Jubel?’ Elmer asks.

‘Get the money out of sight - bury it!’ answers Jubel.

While the Hagger boys break out the shovels, Jubel picks a spot by the large flat rock. Indian Joe has vanished!

The three soldiers start digging – hooting and hollering.

‘How much do we get, Jubel?’ Mordicai asks.

‘Enough for our kinfolk to ride in convertibles instead of on mules.’

‘Amen and Halleluiah!’ shouts Mordicai.

‘What happens to the rest, Jubel?’ Elmer asks.

‘It gets kicked upstairs to a fine bunch of old Southern gentlemen who planned the whole operation.’

The mortally wounded Peterson is regaining consciousness. He witnesses the soldiers burying the money. Using his knife, he scratches the memorised compass co-ordinates onto his dog-tags, with the letters ‘F-R’ (flat rock). The dying Lieutenant then tries to contact Col Smith again. The signal is weak as the satellite is passing out of range and the set is dying. However, Major Ely Bodeen picks up the receiver.

‘This is Delta 2,’ gasps the dying Lieutenant, ‘Is that you, Colonel Smith?’

‘Carry on Peterson,’ orders Major Bodeen – not answering the question.

‘I have been stabbed by Mordicai Hagger…. losing a lot of blood….they are burying the money, Sir!’

‘Goddamn it, Peterson – where are you?’ I want your exact co-ordinates!’ Major Bodeen demands.

‘On my dog-tags, Sir,’ replies Peterson weakly – then dies!

‘Mother…fucker!’ swears Major Bodeen.

At the large flat rock, the three Special Force soldiers have finished digging a deep hole. They begin to throw in the six big, sealed containers of money; all are taking pulls from a bottle of liquor.

‘Hey Jubel, how we gonna find this site again?’ Elmer asks.

‘We take a bearing with the Lieutenant’s compass - go get it, Mordicai.’

Mordicai Hagger searches the dead Lieutenant’s body.

‘He ain’t got a compass, Jubel. Goddamn!’

Jubel and Elmer rush over and frantically look for the compass.

‘Why the lousy, Yankee sister-fucker!’ Jubel Hogger swears.

‘What we gonna do now, Jubel?’ Mordicai asks.

‘We got Indian Joe, ain’t we?’ Jubel answers.

‘But Indian Joe took off, Jubel – just like you said,’ replies Mordicai.

‘He’ll be back – he just got rabbit in his blood, that’s all – he can get us back to camp. We get a compass and Indian Joe brings us back here. He then can join the Lieutenant and Murphy.’

The three soldiers complete filling in the hole containing the money.

Elmer notices Indian Joe approaching them from across the river.

‘Looki here, Jubel – our bird is returning to roost,’ whispers Elmer.

‘Steady boys,’ says Jubel, ‘don’t spook him none – he may get rabbit in his blood again – when he’s near grab him!’

‘We won’t be doing any grabbing, Jubel!’ says Elmer, ‘looks like he’s brought his kinfolk along!’

Cat-men
warriors emerge from the jungle, cutting off all lines of retreat – their bows pulled taught! Each Cat-man wears a full jaguar skin covering his back and arms and ending in metal claws. The snarling cats heads are pulled over their faces, long whiskers protrude from their upper lips, long canines hang from the snarling mouths, bloodshot eyes stare from the empty eye sockets of the cat-skin. Some of the warriors growl…
’jaguars that walk on two legs!’

‘Lordi, lordi!’ Elmer exclaims, ‘they have gotten us corralled like pigs in a pen, Jubel – our guns are plumb outa reach!’

‘Hang loose, boys – hang loose,’ replies Jubel, ‘I am still packing the Lieutenant’s 45 - when I make a move, dive for them guns.’

Indian Joe approaches.

‘Howdy, Indian Joe,’ greets Jubel smiling.

Indian Joe is enraged! ‘I
Manus Xingue
now – you dig sacred place – kill Peterson – now Sky-God no come!’

The three hillbillies notice Indian Joe is carrying a rough weave basket, dripping blood….staring at them through the loose weave is Murphy’s bloody,
red haired, severed head
!

‘Holy cow – I think we’re up shit creek, Jubel,’ Elmer whispers.

‘Go for your shooting irons, boys!’ Jubel orders, opening fire with the 45 pistol – killing two Cat-men. The two Hagger cousins grab their weapons but, before they can fire, their bodies resemble giant pincushions. Seeing his kinfolk die, Jubel Hogger empties his 45 into the Cat-men….leaving the last bullet for himself!

The Cat-men immediately begin to get fires going and inspect the bodies of the dead soldiers. Manus Xingue (Indian Joe) admires Mordicai Hagger’s
flame red
hair, then walks over to the body of Peterson and runs his fingers admiringly through the dead officer’s
blond
locks. Manus Xingue then takes Peterson’s dog-tags and proudly puts them on. After taking a line of cocaine, he lifts the Lieutenant’s right arm – drawing his machete!

Two months after the death of Peterson, Major Bodeen is reporting to General Devereux. ‘My patrol has just returned, Sir, without locating the site of the buried money or Peterson’s dog-tags with the co-ordinates – but we have a new lead on the indian tracker known as Indian Joe. His real name is
Manus Xingue
, a wild indian. You were right, Sir - he killed the original Marpari.
Manus Xingue
has a fascination for officers’ dog-tags – believing they bring power. I’ll send a bigger patrol out immediately, Sir – backed up by two Black Hawk gun-ships.’

‘Ely, are you on stimulants. We are
pissing
on a hornets’ nest here. Now hear this – contact Captain Price-Palmer, CO of 21 SAS in Belize. He did good work for us in Iraq Two. Ask him to send out a four-man team on a
deniable operation
– the team is to include two of his best men, Dublin and Edwards of 21 SAS. I want Sgt Kane 22 SAS to lead the team – he’s the only honest Limey I know. Detail Sgt Kane to find and collect all missing dog-tags personally – say they are not to be contaminated by inspection – I don’t trust Dublin or Edwards – those two Limeys are natural born pirates!’

‘But Sir – Major Barnaby, CO of 22 SAS, does not like working with US Special Forces.’

‘I will pull some strings – get him away for a few days. Captain Price-Palmer will then become temporary CO of 22 SAS as well. To keep Dublin and Edwards’ minds off the bigger picture, place a one million dollars reward on Chevez’s head. Use Chevez
again
as an excuse for entering Brazil – only Dublin and Edwards are to be told about the reward. I know 21 and 22 SAS don’t get along – or trust each other.’

Sgt Jim Kane briskly walks across the dusty jungle compound and enters the office of Major Barnaby, CO of 22 SAS. Kane joined 22 SAS as a young Para and is now nearing the twilight of his career. A veteran of both Gulf Wars and Afghanistan, he was an honest soldier.

Sgt Kane finds Captain Henry Price-Palmer, commander of 21 SAS, sitting at Major Barnaby’s desk! Price-Palmer is a typical product of public school. ‘Hello Jim, sorry about this last minute thing – we have to move quickly.’ The Captain hands Kane a photograph.

‘I wouldn’t use his tailor,’ Kane comments, without interest.

‘His name is Chevez, a peasant – but he knows more tricks than a cart-load of monkeys – he has already killed three US Special Force soldiers!’

‘So what?’ Kane asks.