Place of Bones (27 page)

No, she wasn’t; she was laughing!

“Daddy!” she called, and suddenly I was crying.

I stepped forward and she ran into my arms. She was crying too, but laughing at the same time. I grabbed her and spun her around, her feet off the grass, one shoe flying away.

And then she was dead in my arms, a limp rag-doll with blood streaming down the side of her beautiful face.

*

Felix Truly was not totally dissatisfied with his performance. Long-shots of that nature were notoriously difficult to get right. So, okay, he had missed his target, but only by a whisker. And he certainly could not wait around for another try. The damned man should not have turned when he had. It could have happened to anyone. He whipped up the rifle, with its powerful ‘scope, and ran to the waiting car. There was already someone charging over the grass towards him. Two or three of them. Airport police. But then he was in his car and, in two minutes, he would be lost in the stream of traffic.

Felix Truly cursed. And he wondered whether Jean-Paul Winterhoek would be so understanding over a matter of a mere few inches!

The End

Espionage (In chronological order):

Power Play

Czechmate

The Dongola Script

I, said the Spyder

Mercenary Warfare (Martin Palmer):

A Warrior’s Code

Dirty Money

The Devil’s Breath (Out later in 2015)

Mercenary Warfare (General):

A Place of Bones

World War Two:

The Silent War

A Time to Die.

Crime:

Thunder Island

Following is the first chapter of “Dirty Money”

ONE:

Komo blew a bead of sweat from the tip of his nose and swung the hammer again.

              CRACK!

              Stone chipping flew everywhere.

              I said
,“
Forty-one
.
”

              It was hotter than yesterday. The sun blasted a fiery hole out of a brassy sky and the valley, way below us, shimmered and danced like a steaming cauldron. There were no cold places left in the world.

              CRACK!

              I said
,“
Forty-two
,
” and lifted the water bottle from beside me on the anthill. I took a deep swallow. Komo eyed me malevolently. I smirked and waved him back to work. The hammer blurred in its arc.

              CRACK!

              I said
,“
Forty-three
,
” and sighed. I took another swallow from the bottle. Komo glanced over at me. His craggy, angular black face reminded me of a statue that had been rained on. He stood there, hefting the hammer in his massive hands. I returned his gaze and smiled
.“
Forty-three
,
” I reminded him, not unkindly.

              He sucked in a breath then let it out again. The hammer swished through the suffering air.

              CRACK!

              I nodded
.“
Forty-four
.
”

              Komo took another pause. Things always slowed down in the forties. He said
,“
Throw me the bottle, boss
.
”

              I looked at his outstretched hand. Then I looked at his sweat-streaked face. I said
,“
Stuff you! Get hammering
!
”

              He muttered something I did
n’
t catch and swung again.

              CRACK!

              A sliver of rock the size of a silver dollar hissed through the air and near scalped me
.“
For chrissakes
!
” I spat
,“
Watch it
!
”

              Komo groaned and shook his head, like he thought I was being unreasonable. He was a six-four mountain of drumhead skin stretched over a complex weave of steel-hawser muscles. Most men gave him a wide berth. Most women did the opposite. He lifted the hammer.

              CRACK!

              I said
,“
Forty-five
,
” and screwed home the cap of the water bottle. Komo groaned again. He pursed his lips and blew upwards at his nose. The droplets of sweat glinted in the sunlight. The handle of the hammer creaked, reminding me of my bones.

              CRACK!

              That damned rock seemed to grin over at me, smug and self-righteous.
Pathetic!
, it said to itself. I hated it. I said
,“
Forty-six
,
” and lay back on the anthill, closing my eyes tightly against the sun. All the same it seemed to drill right through to my brain.

              CRACK!

              I said
,“
Forty-seven
,
” from the prone position.

              Silence.

              I sat up and looked over at Komo and the rock. Both were still there
.“
What
?
” I inquired.

              Komo raised his eyebrows, pulled a face and shook his head. Nothing. Just resting. Fine. I lay back down and waited. I smelt of stale sweat and worse.

              CRACK!

              I tried to say Forty-eight, but it would
n’
t come out. I sat up again and spun the cap off the water bottle. I took a lubricating sip. The water was near as hot as the air. Then I said
,“
Forty-eight
,
” and this time it came out.

              Komo nodded at me, as if satisfied that I was paying attention. He glared at the hammer in his hands, then down at the rock under his feet. I waited for him to glare over at me. He did
n’
t. He swung the hammer.

              CRACK!

              I said
,“
Forty-eigh
t
” again, and had a quiet chuckle to myself.

              Komo said
,“
Forty-
nine
!
” and he settled his bare feet firmer of the rock.

              I shrugged
.“
Okay, if you must be exact. Forty-nine
.
” I took another swallow from the bottle to stock up on a reserve and I slid down off the anthill. I cursed that rock to hell and back. I also cursed Freddy Garrant and his defective detonators.

              Not just one.

              Not just two or three.

              But two whole boxes of the damned things!

              Three weeks wasted time and effort.

              And now the goddam rock!

              CRACK!

              Komo, hardly breathing heavy, sai
d“
Fift
y
” himself and the hammer came sailing over at me. I almost caught it. It buried its twenty-pound head in the dirt and I near took a hernia getting it free. Komo relieved me off the water bottle and took my place on the anthill. He had this smug look on his face as he sucked at the bottle. I tried to ignore it.

              One of the blisters on my left hand had burst and there was pus and gunge all over, and pain in all the most inconvenient places. So
d’
s Law. Under my breath I called Komo a smug bastard and tried to look intimidating for the rock, which now seemed to be laying there sun-bathing. I put what I had into the swing.

              CRACK!

              The shock-waves zapped up through my arms and shivered down to my toes. My teeth sang like a buzz saw. Ther
e’
s this feeling you have when you know damned well something is useless. I experienced it then.

              Komo, smiling that superior smile of his, said
,“
Tha
t’
s one
.
”

              I said
,“
Tha
t’
s one...
bwana
!
”

              He treated me to an old-fashioned look
.“
That do
n’
t make it any mor
e’
n one...
bwana.
A
n
’ you got forty-nine to go
.
” He lay back on the anthill as if he, like the rock, was taking the sun. Neither of them needed to take the sun.

              The hammer felt like a ton weight in my hands. The sun sent its needle rays into my head and shoulders and I was reasonably certain I did not have another fifty swings in me. I tried number two. It ought to be impossible to miss a damned great rock that you are actually standing on. But miss it I did. The hammer swished in the wrong direction entirely and took me with it. The red dust billowed up around me and I coughed my lungs up trying to get sorted out. I blinked over at Komo, daring him to laugh. He just looked at me. Then he shook his head sagely.

            
 “
That one do
n’
t count, boss
.
” Pure matter of fact

              I said
,“
It freeki
n
’ does
!
”

              Komo shook his head again
.“
No, it d
o’
n
.
”

              Through gritted teeth I hissed
,“
It counts, for chrissakes
!
” and climbed back on the rock.

              Komo lay back down and rested the water bottle on his chest. He sighed gently
.“
One
.
”

              I stood there, glaring at him.

              He raised an idle hand, second finger extended. H
e’
d learned that gesture from me. Komo was learning most of his bad habits from me.

              I spat some dirt from my mouth
.“
You just wait, you bastard
!
”

              The hand flopped down beside him. He sighed again
.“
One
.
”

              You could
n’
t win with Komo. It was in his genes. I said
,“
Okay, dammit. One
!
” I tried number two again and made it.

              CRACK!

              Komo muttered
,“
Tha
t’
s
two, boss
!
”

             
Boss!
I could not persuade Komo to call me anything else.
Pal
would have been a vast improvement. Or
Buddy
. He had never once called me by name, and I never got to find out what it would have taken to have him do that.
Telling
him to call me Martin just didn't work.

              I glared over at him. My head was already swimming. I was sweating like a pig and covered in a layer of soggy red dust. I lifted the hammer.

              Komo said
,“
Maybe yours, boss
.
”

              He was talking about our bet as to who of us would strike the fatal blow and split that rock down the fault that was there for all the world to
SEE
, dammit!

              I did not think it would be me.

              I clamped my jaw tightly and swung, remembering to open my mouth just before impact.
I’
d been down that road before.

              CRACK!

              Komo said
,“
Three
,
” then added a facetiously exaggerated
,“
Bwana
.
” He inclined his head in my direction and gave me a crooked smile.

              I smiled back at him and waggled my head, Asian style
.“
Just so long as you know your place, old buddy
.
”

              Komo closed his eyes
.“
I do, boss.
I’
s here on the anthill. A
n
’ you got forty-seven more to go
.
”

              I could
n’
t see a lot of point in reacting to that, so I swung the hammer.

              CRACK!

              Komo said
,“
Four
,
” then he sat up suddenly, his face creased in a puzzled frown
.“
I did fifty-one
!
”

              I was glad of the respite
.“
How
d’
you make that out
?
”

              He said
,“
You did
n’
t say forty-five after forty-four. You said it after the
next
one
!
”

              I looked at him. H
e’
d finally lost the plot. Or had he? Then again, did it matter a pi
g’
s ear? The whole damned thing was ridiculous. I said
,“
I did
n’
t
!
”

              He slid down off the anthill and stood there glaring at me. Then he nodded firmly
.“
You did! You did
n’
t say forty-five when you shoul
d’
ve
.
”

              This was Komo.

              He had a memory like an elephant and a sense of justice that I could only barely fathom. Also, his notions of what was and what was not important in the general scheme of things left me standing. Here we were, halfway up a tortuous mountain track, overlooking a valley that killed people without blinking, under a sun that did
n’
t need to take lessons, and he was trying to keep the tally straight.
Really
straight, as opposed to the frivolous kind.