High Citadel / Landslide (9 page)

‘That’s good in principle,’ said Forester. ‘Any objections to it?’ He glanced at O’Hara, knowing what he would say.

O’Hara looked at Forester sourly; it seemed as though he was being cast as the cold-water expert and he did not fancy the role. He said deliberately, ‘The approaches to the bridge from this side are wide open; there’s no cover for at least a hundred yards—you saw what happened to Benedetta and me this morning. Anyone who tried to get to the bridge along the road would be cut down before he’d got halfway. It’s point blank range, you know—they don’t have to be crack shots.’ He paused. ‘Now I know it’s the only way we
can
get at the bridge, but it seems impossible to me.’

‘What about a night attack?’ asked Willis.

‘That sounds good,’ said Forester.

O’Hara hated to do it, but he spoke up. ‘I don’t want to sound pessimistic, but I don’t think those chaps over there are entirely stupid. They’ve got two trucks and four jeeps,
maybe more, and those vehicles have at least two headlights apiece. They’ll keep the bridge well lit during the dark hours.’

There was silence again.

Armstrong cleared his throat. ‘Willis and I have been doing a little thinking and maybe we have something that will help. Again I find myself in the position of being something of an expert. You know that my work is the study of medieval history, but it so happens that I’m a specialist, and my speciality is medieval warfare. The position as I see it is that we are in a castle with a moat and a drawbridge. The drawbridge is fortuitously pulled up, but our enemies are trying to rectify that state of affairs. Our job is to stop them.’

‘With what?’ asked O’Hara. ‘A push of a pike?’

‘I wouldn’t despise medieval weapons too much, O’Hara,’ said Armstrong mildly. ‘I admit that the people of those days weren’t as adept in the art of slaughter as we are, but still, they managed to kill each other off at a satisfactory rate. Now, Rohde’s pistol is highly inaccurate at the range he is forced to use. What we want is a more efficient missile weapon than Rohde’s pistol.’

‘So we all make like Robin Hood,’ said Peabody derisively. ‘With the jolly old longbow, what? For Christ’s sake, Professor!’

‘Oh, no,’ said Armstrong. ‘A longbow is very chancy in the hands of a novice. It takes five years at least to train a good bowman.’

‘I can use the bow,’ said Miss Ponsky unexpectedly. Everyone looked at her and she coloured. ‘I’m president of the South Bridge Ladies’ Greenwood Club. Last year I won our own little championship in the Hereford Round.’

‘That’s interesting,’ said Armstrong.

O’Hara said, ‘Can you use a longbow lying down, Miss Ponsky?’

‘It would be difficult,’ she said. ‘Perhaps impossible.’

O’Hara jerked his head at the gorge. ‘You stand up there with a longbow and you’ll get filled full of holes.’

She bridled. ‘I think you’d do better helping than pouring cold water on all our ideas, Mr O’Hara.’

‘I’ve got to do it,’ said O’Hara evenly. ‘I don’t want anyone killed uselessly.’

‘For God’s sake,’ exclaimed Willis. ‘How did a longbow come into this? That’s out—we can’t make one; we haven’t the material. Now, will you listen to Armstrong; he has a point to make.’ His voice was unexpectedly firm.

The flat crack of Rohde’s pistol echoed on the afternoon air and there was the answering fire of shots from the other side of the gorge. Peabody ducked and O’Hara looked at his watch. It had been an hour and twenty minutes—and they had nine bullets left.

Forester said, ‘That’s one good thing—we’re safe here. Their rifles won’t shoot round corners. Make your point, Doctor Armstrong.’

‘I was thinking of something more on the lines of a prodd or crossbow,’ said Armstrong. ‘Anyone who can use a rifle can use a crossbow and it has an effective range of over a hundred yards.’ He smiled at O’Hara. ‘You can shoot it lying down, too.’

O’Hara’s mind jumped at it. They could cover the bridge and also the road on the other side where it turned north and followed the edge of the gorge and where the enemy trucks were. He said, ‘Does it have any penetrative power?’

‘A bolt will go through mail if it hits squarely,’ said Armstrong.

‘What about a petrol tank?’

‘Oh, it would penetrate a petrol tank quite easily.’

‘Now, take it easy,’ said Forester. ‘How in hell can we make a crossbow?’

‘You must understand that I’m merely a theoretician where this is concerned,’ explained Armstrong. ‘I’m no
mechanic or engineer. But I described what I want to Willis and he thinks we can make it.’

‘Armstrong and I were rooting round up at the camp,’ said Willis. ‘One of the huts had been a workshop and there was a lot of junk lying about—you know, the usual bits and pieces that you find in a metal-working shop. I reckon they didn’t think it worthwhile carting the stuff away when they abandoned the place. There are some flat springs and odd bits of metal rod; and there’s some of that concrete reinforcing steel that we can cut up to make arrows.’

‘Bolts,’ Armstrong corrected mildly. ‘Or quarrels, if you prefer. I thought first of making a prodd, you know; that’s a type of crossbow which fires bullets, but Willis has convinced me that we can manufacture bolts more easily.’

‘What about tools?’ asked O’Hara. ‘Have you anything that will cut metal?’

‘There are some old hacksaw blades,’ Willis said. ‘And I saw a couple of worn-out files. And there’s a hand-powered grindstone that looks as though it came out of the Ark. I’ll make out; I’m good with my hands and I can adapt Armstrong’s designs with the material available.’

O’Hara looked at Forester, who said slowly, ‘A weapon accurate to a hundred yards built out of junk seems too good to be true. Are you certain about this, Doctor Armstrong?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Armstrong cheerfully. ‘The crossbow has killed thousands of men in its time—I see no reason why it shouldn’t kill a few more. And Willis seems to think he can make it.’ He smiled. ‘I’ve drawn the blueprints there.’ He pointed to a few lines scratched in the dust.

‘If we’re going to do this, we’d better do it quickly,’ said O’Hara.

‘Right.’ Forester looked up at the sun. ‘You’ve got time to make it up to the camp by nightfall. It’s uphill, but you’ll be
travelling light. You go too, Peabody; Willis can use another pair of hands.’

Peabody nodded quickly. He had no taste for staying too near the bridge.

‘One moment,’ said Aguillar, speaking for the first time. ‘The bridge is made of rope and wood—very combustible materials. Have you considered the use of fire? Señor O’Hara gave me the idea when he spoke of petrol tanks.’

‘Um,’ said O’Hara. ‘But how to get the fire to the bridge?’

‘Everyone think of that,’ said Forester. ‘Now let’s get things moving.’

Armstrong, Willis and Peabody left immediately on the long trudge up to the camp. Forester said, ‘I didn’t know what to make of Willis—he’s not very forthcoming—but I’ve got him tagged now. He’s the practical type; give him something to do and he’ll get it done, come hell or high water. He’ll do.’

Aguillar smiled. ‘Armstrong is surprising, too.’

‘My God!’ said Forester. ‘Crossbows in this day and age!’

O’Hara said, ‘We’ve got to think about making camp. There’s no water here, and besides, our main force is too close to the enemy. There’s a pond about half a mile back—I think that’s a good spot.’

‘Benedetta, you see to that,’ Aguillar commanded. ‘Miss Ponsky will help you.’ He watched the two women go, then turned with a grave face. ‘There is something we must discuss, together with Miguel. Let us go over there.’

Rohde was happy. ‘They have not put a plank in the bridge yet. They ran again like the rabbits they are.’

Aguillar told him what was happening and he said uncertainly, ‘A crossbow?’

‘I think it’s crazy, too,’ said Forester. ‘But Armstrong reckons it’ll work.’

‘Armstrong is a good man,’ said Aguillar. ‘He is thinking of immediate necessities—but I think of the future. Suppose
we hold off these men; suppose we destroy the bridge—what then?’

‘We’re not really any better off,’ said O’Hara reflectively. ‘They’ve got us pinned down anyway.’

‘Exactly,’ said Aguillar. ‘True, we have plenty of food, but that means nothing. Time is very valuable to these men, just as it is to me. They gain everything by keeping me inactive.’

‘By keeping you here they’ve removed you from the game,’ agreed Forester. ‘How long do you think it will be before they make their
coup d’état
?’

Aguillar shrugged. ‘One month—maybe two. Certainly not longer. We advanced our own preparations because the communists showed signs of moving. It is a race between us with the destiny of Cordillera as the prize—maybe the destiny of the whole of Latin America is at stake. And the time is short.’

‘Your map, Señor O’Hara,’ said Rohde suddenly.

O’Hara took out the chart and spread it on a rock, and Rohde traced the course of the river north and south, shaking his head. ‘This river—this gorge—is a trap, pinning us against the mountains,’ he said.

‘We’ve agreed it’s no use going for the bridge downstream,’ said Forester. ‘It’s a hell of a long way and it’s sure to be guarded.’

‘What’s to stop
them
crossing that bridge and pushing up on this side of the river to outflank us?’ asked O’Hara.

‘As long as they think they can repair this bridge they won’t do that,’ Aguillar said. ‘Communists are not supermen; they are as lazy as other people and they would not relish crossing eighty kilometres of mountain country—that would take at least four days. I think they will be content to stop the bolt hole.’

Rohde’s fingers swept across the map to the west. ‘That leaves the mountains.’

Forester turned and looked at the mountain wall, at the icy peaks. ‘I don’t like the sound of that. I don’t think Señor Aguillar could make it.’

‘I know,’ said Rohde. ‘He must stay here. But someone must cross the mountains for help.’

‘Let’s see if it’s practicable,’ said O’Hara. ‘I was going to fly through the Puerto de las Aguilas. That means that anyone going back would have to go twenty miles north before striking west through the pass. And he’d have to go pretty high to get round this bloody gorge. The pass isn’t so bad—it’s only about fourteen thousand feet.’

‘A total of about thirty miles before he got into the Santos Valley,’ said Forester. ‘That’s on straight line courses. It would probably be fifty over the ground.’

There is another way,’ said Rohde quietly. He pointed to the mountains. ‘This range is high, but not very wide. On the other side lies the Santos Valley. If you draw a line on the map from here to Altemiros in the Santos Valley you will find that it is not more than twenty-five kilometres.’

O’Hara bent over the map and measured the distance. ‘You’re right; about fifteen miles—but it’s all peaks.’

‘There is a pass about two miles north-west of the mine,’ said Rohde. ‘It has no name because no one is so foolish as to use it. It is about five thousand eight hundred metres.’

Forester rapidly translated. ‘Wow! Nineteen thousand feet.’

‘What about lack of oxygen?’ asked O’Hara. ‘We’ve had enough trouble with that already. Could a man go over that pass without oxygen?’

‘I have done so,’ said Rohde. ‘Under more favourable conditions. It is a matter of acclimatization. Mountaineers know this; they stay for days at one level and then move up the mountain to another camp and stay a few days there also before moving to a higher level. It is to attune their
bodies to the changing conditions.’ He looked up at the mountains. ‘If I went up to the camp tomorrow and spent a day there then went to the mine and stayed a day there—I think I could cross that pass.’

Forester said, ‘You couldn’t go alone.’

‘I’ll go with you,’ said O’Hara promptly.

‘Hold on there,’ said Forester. ‘Are you a mountaineer?’

‘No,’ said O’Hara.

‘Well, I am. I mean, I’ve scrambled about in the Rockies—that should count for something.’ He appealed to Rohde. ‘Shouldn’t it?’

Aguillar said, ‘You should not go alone, Miguel.’

‘Very well,’ said Rohde. ‘I will take one man—you.’ He nodded to Forester and smiled grimly. ‘But I promise you—you will be sorry.’

Forester grinned cheerfully and said, ‘Well, Tim, that leaves you as garrison commander. You’ll have your hands full.’

‘
Si
,’ said Rohde. ‘You must hold them off.’

A new sound was added to the noise of the river and Rohde immediately wriggled up to his observation post, then beckoned to O’Hara. ‘They are starting their engines,’ he said. ‘I think they are going away.’

But the vehicles did not move. ‘What are they doing?’ asked Rohde in perplexity.

‘They’re charging their batteries,’ said O’Hara. ‘They’re making sure that they’ll have plenty of light tonight.’

O’Hara and Aguillar went back to help the women make camp, leaving Rohde and Forester watching the bridge. There was no immediate danger of the enemy forcing the crossing and any unusual move could soon be reported.
Forester’s attitude had changed as soon as the decision to cross the mountains had been made. He no longer drove hard for action, seemingly being content to leave it to O’Hara. It was as though he had tacitly decided that there could be only one commander and the man was O’Hara.

O’Hara’s lips quirked as he mentally reviewed his garrison: An old man and a young girl; two sedentary academic types; a drunk and someone’s maiden aunt; and himself—a broken-down pilot. On the other side of the river were at least twenty ruthless men—with God knows how many more to back them up. His muscles tensed at the thought that they were communists; sloppy South American communists, no doubt—but still communists.

Whatever happens, they’re not going to get me again, he thought.

Benedetta was very quiet and O’Hara knew why. To be shot at for the first time took the pith out of a person—one came to the abrupt realization that one was a soft bag of wind and liquids, vulnerable and defenceless against steel-jacketed bullets which could rend and tear. He remembered the first time he had been in action, and felt very sorry for Benedetta; at least he had been prepared, however inadequately, for the bullets—the bullets and the cannon shells.