Operation: Amazon

- 16 -

He met Hynd and Buller standing in the kitchen doorway. They stood looking down at a body at their feet. When Banks had gone into the bedroom, there had been a huge dead snake there. Now there was a naked dead man, one with the back of his head blown out and blood, still wet, running red around the body.

“This is fucking weird, even for us, Cap,” Hynd said.

“It’s their leader,” Buller added, and at first Banks didn’t understand, until he bent and had a closer look at the dead man. There was no doubt about it. Despite the bullet wounds, Banks saw it was the tall one who’d led the occupants of the temple complex in their earlier capture.

“How did he get here?” Hynd said.

“I think they probably swam,” Banks replied.

McCally spoke from out in the hallway.

“They’re all like that, Sarge,” he said. “All the fucking snakes are now dead people, men and women both. How the fuck does that work?”

“I’ll be buggered if I know, lad, but I’d feel better if we got these bodies out of here.” He turned to Buller. “Where do you keep the gasoline?”

Ten minutes later, they stood in the docking area watching the bodies burn. They’d dragged each one out individually, then piled them in a pyre on the deck by the waterside. Banks had them put Giraldo, now man again for the last time, on the top, then they doused the whole lot in gasoline and set it alight. They had to stand back as the pyre went up with a whoosh and surge that threatened to singe their eyebrows.

Nobody felt like speaking, and they all stood in silence. The burning went fast and furious, the bodies being rendered to ash and bone in a matter of minutes. When the flames finally started to die down, Wiggins stepped forward and kicked at the pile. It tumbled over into the river with a distinct hiss, and dispersed quickly, leaving only an oily scum on the surface to show for the lives of the dead. Even that was quickly dispersed, and soon the only sign they had ever been was a burned scar on the deck where the pyre had been.

Banks headed back inside, not for the beer, but for a drop of something harder. He fetched the bottle he’d seen earlier from the office, took it through to the mess area, and poured them all, even Buller, a finger of Scotch.

“To Giraldo, the poor auld bugger,” he said, and knocked the whisky back in one. He took a pack of cigarettes from the table, lit a smoke, and stashed the rest of the packet and lighter in his pocket before turning to Buller.

“The choppers will be here inside the hour,” he said. “We can all go home, right now, and be back in Scotland with a breakfast fry up and a pot of tea before you know it.”

Buller finished his own drink before replying.

“We’re not going back without the gold. Don’t you see? It’s even easier now. You’ve killed most of them. I never saw more than 20 at the temple, and you put that many down here tonight. The place will be empty. All we’ve got to do is waltz in, make sure everything’s quiet, and sit on it. All that gold we saw is ours for the taking.”

“If we get a vote, I’d rather have the fry up,” Wiggins said.

Buller smiled again, that same eminently punchable smirk that Banks was coming to loathe.

“This isn’t a fucking democracy,” he said, addressing Banks. “You’ve got your orders. I’m in charge here.”

“Look around you,” Wiggins replied. “You couldn’t manage a fuck in a brothel.”

“That’s enough, Wiggo,” Banks said. “The man’s right on one thing, we’ve got our orders. Go and be a soldier. You and Cally walk the perimeter and make sure there’s no more buggering snakes about. The sarge and I will babysit the wanker for a bit.”

Buller looked like he wanted to be offended, but wouldn’t meet Bank’s gaze and went to sit in his office without another word.

Hynd picked up the whisky bottle and waved it toward Banks with an eyebrow raised.

“No, put it away, Sarge,” he replied. “Orders is orders. We’ve got to watch that bastard’s back and get him back to yon temple. God help us.”

“So what are we dealing with? Fucking shapeshifters?”

“I told you what I saw at the pyramid. You saw it for yourself just now, Sarge. And you saw what a bite did for Giraldo. So rule one: Don’t get fucking bitten. We’re going to get Buller to his temple, get it secured, then fuck off and leave him and his rich pals to it.”

Hynd smiled thinly.

“As Wiggo would say, that sounds like a fucking plan to me.”

The whop of approaching choppers sounded in the night air and the squad, with Buller at their back, were all outside waiting as the two craft approached and landed on the wide deck at the docking area. Banks saw that they were Russian-built, Mil Mi-24s, with Brazilian Air Force Insignia.

They waited for the rotors to stop, then greeted the crew as they disembarked. As Banks had guessed, the four pilots were all Brazilian, but their English was as good as Giraldo’s had been, and he had no trouble briefing them in the kitchen. If they noticed the blood smears that the squad hadn’t quite managed to clean up, they were too professional to make note of it.

“We were told there was a sick man to transport,” their senior officer, a captain by his insignia, said. “We should send him back straight away before we talk anymore.”

“He didn’t make it,” Banks said bluntly, and again the pilots were too professional to make anything of it. He explained the plan of action, and gave them a rundown of what would be waiting for them in the highlands at their destination. One of them made the sign of the cross and muttered a prayer under his breath at the mention of the temple in the highlands upriver.

“We’ll go at first light,” he said when he was done.

“Bugger that. We go now,” Buller replied.

“No, we don’t,” Banks said. “You might be in charge, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to allow you to get away with fucking stupidity. We are not going into a blind situation in the dark. I won’t put my men at risk that way, orders or no orders.”

“Then I’ll see you busted back to private on our return, and I’ll just take these local chaps. We’ll go without you,” Buller said, and looked to the Brazilian crew. Banks was pleased to see they were as professional as he’d expected.

“I’m afraid I must agree with Captain Banks,” the chief officer said. “Going blind into the dark is something only an idiot would contemplate, especially on this river. We go in the morning.”

Buller blustered and complained. He made threats. Then he tried offering bribes. All that got him was contempt, and once again, he left to sulk in his office.

“I do not think I like him very much,” the Brazilian captain said.

“Then you and I should get along just fine,” Banks replied, and got a grin in return.

Banks set up a watch schedule for what little was left of the night, and told the squad to get any rest they could manage.

“We’ve got a big day ahead of us, and I need us all sharp.”

Dawn was approaching all too quickly.