Nothing I can do there that Peters can't do as well or better, he thought, then continued his trek.
He stopped to let a Ferret pass him by, the scout car dragging behind it an empty container on log rollers. Some of Nagy's engineers took turns moving the rollers to the front of the container as they were rolled forward. The engineers dripped sweat in the equatorial heat.
And that's where we're going to hide the vehicles, the military ones, anyway, when we leave. Who knows; maybe we can recover them some day. And, if not, they'll make some interesting matters of conjecture for some future archeologists.
On the other side of the container Reilly saw Stauer, deep in conversation with Chaplain Wilson.
Guilt, Reilly thought. What I've got is a bad case of conscience. I mean, when you fail to meet even the very low standards you set for yourself . . .
On the other hand, between having a company again and having a worthwhile woman again my life is pretty much complete again. And so, of course, I feel guilty over that, too.
He walked over and said, first to Wilson, 'I wish you were a Catholic. Since you're not,' he turned to face Stauer, 'Boss, can I have a private word with you?'
From off in the distance came an irregular pop . . . pop . . . pop from the Dragunov range. From a droning plane above the airfield small dots could be seen falling. Parachutes opened up over the dots, slowing their descent. From last night's command and staff meeting, Reilly knew that a couple of the translators were being trained to jump.
'No,' Stauer said, shaking his head firmly. 'No, you can't be relieved and turn command over to your exec. He's a good guy but he's not you and I need you. And, no, especially are you not relieved after you lobbied so hard for the position. No, I can't get another crewman to replace Mendes since a) I don't have one and b) it's unlikely anyone else will be willing to serve with the two gays. We're just not that enlightened a group; sad but true. And I can't begin to tell you how disappointed I am in you. You, of all people, should have known better than to get romantically involved with a subordinate.'
And am I the world's greatest hypocrite or what?
Head hanging, Reilly admitted, 'I know. It . . . she was on my not-to-do list until much later but . . . well, things sort of got out of control. And now . . . now I don't know what to do. I can't stand the thought of putting her at risk.'
Stauer scowled and growled, 'Then I strongly suggest you do everything in your power to minimize that risk, company commander. Because we're still going in. She's still going to be commanding an Eland. And you still have a mission.
'On which subject, are you ready to start burying equipment, striking tents, and moving your people to the Merciful?'
'Yes, sir.'
Stauer nodded, then asked, 'You want a suggestion?'
Reilly just nodded, guiltily.
'When we pack out of here, move her in with you, all open and above board. There'll be less damage that way than if you keep sneaking it.'
'I'll think about it, sir.'
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
If the highest aim of a captain were to preserve
his ship, he would keep it in port forever.
-St. Thomas Aquinas
D-32, MV
The ship was anchored at the stern, with the bow, guided by the current, pointing downstream, toward the Atlantic. Behind it, the lights of the city shone, their rays bouncing off of the thick clouds overhead and illuminating river and ship, and the jungle framing both. Coming, as it did, from everywhere, the ambient light fairly obliterated any chance at deep shadows.
Not so much fortunately, as by plan, the Merciful was anchored toward the north bank of the river with no ships or boats between it and the bank. Still, when the landing craft put-putted in, passed the ship, then turned to face upstream, perhaps someone on that bank might have seen it maneuver to a position alongside the merchant vessel. Perhaps that person might have seen the lowered boarding ramp or the long line of men, lugging rucksacks and other impedimenta, depart the craft up the ramp before disappearing through an open hatch in the ship's side.
'But,' as Kosciusko observed, 'anyone looking at this boat at three-thirty in the fucking morning needs to get a life. Besides, the authorities are a lot more interested in people who come in illegally than in people departing for just about any reason.'
'This is so, Captain,' Chin agreed.
'By the way, we have a new assignment for you and your men,' Kosciusko said.
'The Bastard?' Chin asked, his face carefully blank. Be still, O my heart.
'The Bastard.'
D-30, MV
The ship didn't rock much, here in the waters of the Amazon, except on a turn, sometimes, or when another ship passed it going in the other direction. Down low in the hold, in Stauer's quarters, a twenty-foot container, lit by a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, with a narrow folding cot, a small field desk and a pair of folding metal chairs, even the wake of passing ships was barely to be noticed.
He lay on his cot, staring upward, seething inside.
God, we've gotten away with so much, so far. I can hardly believe our luck will hold. But it has to.
Tomorrow, once we're past Brazil's territorial waters, I have to brief the men . . . oh, and the women, too . . . on the mission. They might balk. Be a laugh, which is to say a crying shame, if after all this they decide they don't want any part of it. Will they? I don't know. I'd have told them more from the beginning, if I could have been sure
