shook him awake while it was still dark. Sean's headache was terrifying and his mouth tasted as though a hyena had slept in it. It was one of the penances of being superbly physically fit: the body's reaction to the abuse of rtionately violent, the hangovers more fierce alcohol was propo aspirin for solace.
and he had not a single ming Sean had sweated out However, by the middle of the MO the last drops of stale beer. Their route was still south and west, and as they ran they saw many more fortifications and strong points. As the major had told him, they were cunningly dispersed and hidden. He saw light field artillery in sandbagged em placed detachments, together with mortars in their redoubts an armed with RPG sockets, the mobile hand-held stalwarts of the guerrilla arsenal: All the troops he saw seemed to be cheerful and of high morale, well fed and equipped. Nearly all of them wore the tiger-striped camouflage and combat boots with rubber soles and canvas uppers.
His escort had replenished their packs from the garrison stores.
aize meal was in two-kilo paper When they stopped to eat, the inch they lit the sacks marked 'Premier Mills,' the matches with whi fire were 'Lion Matches,' and the new bars of soap 'Sunlight,' all with the familiar double legend beneath the name: 'Verwaardig in Suid Afrika, Made in South Africa.'
'It's almost like being home again,' Sean chuckled.
The Renaino defensive lines were in concentric rings like the ripples on a pond, and soon Sean realized they were approaching the center. They passed what were obviously training areas, where fresh- faced black recruits, both male and female, some of them in their early teens, sat in rows under thatched sun shelters like schoolchildren in a classroom, studying the makeshift blackboard so attentively that they barely glanced up as Sean's detachment trotted by.
From the blackboards, Sean saw the subjects they were being taught ranged from the infantry field manual to politic theory.
al Beyond the rear training areas they entered what appeared to be a series of low, sparsely manned kopjes. It was only when they were within a few meters of the side of one of these hills that Sean spotted the entrances to the dugouts.
They were more elaborately constructed and cunningly concealed than the others they had been passing all day. These would be invisible from the air and impervious to aerial bombardment, and Sean could tell, by the changed deportment of his guards and their more severe posture toward him, that they had reached the headquarters area of the Renamo army group.
Still, he was taken by surprise when without ceremony they turned aside and drew up at the entrance to one of the underground bunkers. There was a brief exchange while the Shangane sergeant handed Sean over to the guards at the entrance. Then Sean was hustled down the steps into the subterranean maze of corridors and caverns hacked out of the earth. The bunker was lit by bare electric bulbs, and somewhere far off he heard the hum of a generator. The side walls were reverted with sandbags that had been dressed neatly, and the roof was reinforced with hewn logs.
They entered a communications room. Sean saw at a glance that the radio equipment was sophisticated and well maintained. A
large-scale map of the whole northern and central Mozambican provinces of Zambia and Monica covered one wall.
Sean studied the map surreptitiously. He saw at once that the broken, mountainous ground in which this Renamo army group was ensconced was the Serra de Gorongosa, the Gorongosa Mountains, and that the river they had crossed, which formed the Renamo defensive fine, was the Pungwe River. The main railway line ran only thirty or forty miles further south of this position.
Before he could glean more information from the map he was hurried down another short passageway at the end of which there was a curtained-off doorway.
His escort called a respectful request to enter. The reply was sharp and authoritative. One of the guards prodded Sean, and he pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the room beyond.
'Comrade China.' Sean smiled. 'What a pleasant surprise.'
'That form of address is no longer appropriate, Colonel Courtney. In future please address me as General China, or simply as 'Sir.' He sat at a desk in the center of the dugout. He was dressed in the ubiquitous tiger- striped battle dress, but it was adorned with silver paratrooper wings and four rows of gaudy ribbons across his left breast. A yellow silk scarf was knotted at his throat and his maroon beret and webbing belt hung on a peg behind him The butt of the automatic pistol in the webbing holster was ivory handled General China was obviously taking his conversion from Marxism to capitalism very seriously.
'I understand you have acquitted yourself well during the last few days and that you are sympathetic toward Renamo, its allies, and its objectives.' His attitude toward Sean was benign, and it made him uneasy.
'How do you know that?' he demon 'We do have radio you know, Colonel. We aren't total barbarians.' China indicated The VHF set on the bench along the side wall of the dugout. 'Tau passed a pleasant evening with Major Takawira, at my suggestion.'
'Now would you like to tell me what the hell this is all about, General? You have abducted citizens of two friendly and powerful nations, South Africa and America.'
General China held up his hands to stop him. 'Please spare me your outrage, Colonel. Our people in Lisbon and elsewhere have already received complaints from both the Americans and the South Africans. Of course, we have denied abducting anybody and adopted an attitude of injured innocence. He paused and studied Sean for a moment. 'Very enterprising of you to have got a message to the American embassy so soon, but then I wouldn't have expected anything less of you.'
Before Sean could reply he lifted the handset of the field telephone on his desk and spoke quietly in a language Sean recognized as Portuguese but could not understand. He hung up and glanced expectantly toward the screen doorway. Instinctively Sean did the same.
The canvas curtain was drawn aside, and three persons ducked through the dugout. There were two uniformed black women carrying side arms and AK rifles. Between them, escorted closely, dressed in sun-bleached but freshly laundered khaki shirt and loose -fitting shorts, nearly the same clothes she had worn when last he saw her, was Claudia Monterro.
She was thin. That was the first thing that struck Sean. Her hair was drawn back and tied in a plait at the back of her head, and she was tanned to the color of melba toast.
Her eyes were huge in her thin face, and he had never before truly noticed the fine structure of her cheeks and jawbone. At the sight of her his heart seemed to stop and swell against his ribs, then race away again.
'Claudia!' he said. Her head jerked toward him. The blood drained from her face, leaving a cafe all lait color beneath her tan.
'Oh my God,' she whispered. 'I was so afraid-' She broke off, and they stared at each other, neither of them moving for a dozen beats of his heart. Then she said his name: 'Sean.' And it sounded like a sob.
She swayed toward him and lifted her hands, palms upward in a gesture of supplication, and her eyes were filled with all the suffering and hardship and longing of these last days.
With two long strides he reached her, and she threw herself against him, closed her eyes, and pressed her face against him. She had both arms locked around his chest, and the strength of her grip hampered his breathing.
'Darling,' he whispered, and stroked her hair; it felt thick and springing under his fingers. 'My darling, it's all right now.'
She lifted her face to him, and her lips quivered and parted.
Blood had flowed back under the smooth brown skin. She seemed to glow, and the light in her eyes had changed to the sparkle of dark yellow topaz.
'You called me darling,' she whispered.
He lowered his head over her and kissed her. Her lips opened under his, and the inside of her mouth was hot and lubricious. He probed it deeply with his tongue, and it tasted like the sap of sweet young grass.
From the desk, General China said quietly in Shangane, 'Very well, now take the woman away.'
Claudia's guards seized her and Plucked her Out Of his embrace She gave a small despairing wail and tried to resist, but they were powerful, heavily built women, and between them they lifted her feet off the ground and hustled her back through the screen doorway.
one of Sean shouted' Leave her,' and started after them, but the guards drew the pistol from her webbing holster and pointed it at his belly. The canvas screen dropped between them and Claudia's cries of protest dwindled as she was dragged away. In the silence Sean turned slowly back to the man at the desk.
'You bastard,' he whispered furiously. 'You set that up.'
'It went better than I could possibly have hoped for,' General China agreed, 'although some previous conversation I had with Miss Monterro concerning you gave me the idea she was more hunter.'
interested in you as a man than as a professional 'I'd like to twist your head off your shoulders. if you hurt her -Come, come, Colonel Courtney. I'm not going to hurt her. She is far too valuable.
She is a bargaining chip. Surely You realize that.'
Slowly Sean's fury abated and he nodded stiffly. 'Okay, China, what
