The Second Bat Guano War: a Hard-Boiled Spy Thriller (41 page)

He put his hand to his face. His fingers came away covered in blood. I thought for a moment he was going to punch me back.

Then he laughed. “I deserve that,” he said. He held out his arms wide, palms open. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

I sat back on my heels. Shook my head.

“Fucking wuss,” he said.

His fist crunched against my jaw. I fell off him onto my side. A loose tooth rattled around on my tongue. He climbed to his feet, stumbled to where the detonator lay. I shook off the punch, stood up. I ran the few steps between us and threw myself at him. He tumbled backward, with me on top. I wrenched the detonator from his hand. Snapped shut the safety catch, threw it over the ledge into the volcano.

He rolled over on top of me. Gripped my throat with his hands. Thumbs pressed down on my windpipe. I grabbed at his wrists, but they held me tight. I squeezed his throat shut, blocking the lungful of air inside his chest.

Seconds passed. Long, painful, dreadful seconds. I felt faint. Pitt’s face went red.

His hands weakened. Loosened their grip on my throat. Air surged into my lungs. Pitt pulled away, but I got back on top of him, my hands still tight on his throat.

“Do. It,” he grunted.

His eyes wobbled back in his head. I let go. His body shuddered with an intake of breath. He lay there, fighting for air.

“Finish it.” His voice was hoarse. He tried to sit up but couldn’t make it. “Damn you, finish it!”

I stood. Stumbled and nearly fell into the crater. My lungs fought for oxygen. Black spots swam in my vision. I teetered on the edge. “Do what you have to do,” I said. “I want no more deaths on my conscience.”

The icy mist stung my cheek. The black spots disappeared. I stood up straight, still gasping for air. Stepped over Pitt’s prostrate figure. Forced my feet to walk the dozen meters to where the rope lay spooled. My mashed pinkie pulsed with pain. I put it in my mouth and bit down. The pain eased. I spat the useless finger over the cliff.

I turned back. Pitt stood at the edge of the crater, peering into it. I looped the rope around my waist, prepared to rappel down. When I looked back again, Pitt was gone.

I took Liliana’s photo from my shirt pocket. One last time. My lips moved.

“Goodbye.”

I parted my fingers. The wind whipped her from my hand. She danced and floated between the clouds, like a dead leaf, or a bit of ash. Then she was gone. Where? Would I ever see her again?

Who knew? There was nothing more that I could do.

Go down the mountain,
I told myself. That was all. After that? No idea. There was Aurora. No guarantees. There never are. But worth the risk? Maybe she could love me. Maybe I could even be worth loving.

Yes, I thought, as I descended the cliff, banging against the sheer granite wall, I would go down the mountain. But I would not go back to Lima. Not that far. Not that low. I wasn’t dead yet. Not by a long shot. I had things I needed to do. Risks I needed to take. Pain remaining yet to suffer.

One man can save the world. One man can destroy it.

Now I knew which man I was.

Maybe even,
I thought, as I landed on both feet at the base of the cliff,
maybe even, a placard in my hands and a protest on my lips, a cop’s billy club crushing my skull, maybe even joy.

About the Author

Former
Lonely Planet
author J.M. Porup lived in South America for many years and traveled widely throughout the continent. American by birth, Australian by choice, Colombian by marriage and Canadian by accident, he escaped from the US in 1999 and plans to renounce his citizenship. His first editor—way back in the mid-90s—called him a loose cannon. Ever since he has done his best to live up to that high standard.

Acknowledgments

Thanks go first, as always, to midwife/editrix Alison Dasho, who patiently coaxed this one into the light.

Derek Murphy’s fine artwork adorns the cover.

Michael Mandarano copyedited.

Derek Murphy pulled double duty as proofreader.

Many people read and commented on various drafts. Thank you!

Y finalemente, y mas importante que todo, gracias a mi conejita y ladybug girl. Te amo y te amo.