When I'd finished, I sealed the top on the tub, left the device in the shed, and started back to the house, thinking about what else I had to prepare for a possible four nights on the ground.
The sky had turned metallic, the clouds every shade of grey. A gentle breeze was the only consolation.
There was a loud rumble of thunder in the distance as I crested the slope. Aaron and Carrie were standing by the sinks, and I could see they were arguing again.
Carrie's arms were flying about and Aaron was standing with his head jutting forward like a rooster.
I couldn't just stop and go back: I was in no-man's land here. Besides, my hands were stinging badly with the nitro and I needed to wash it off, and to get some aspirin down my neck. Dihydrocodeine would do the job better, but I needed to be awake later tonight.
I slowed down, lowered my head, and hoped they'd see me soon.
They must have spotted me out here in the open ground, looking everywhere and anywhere apart from the washing area, because the arms stopped windmilling.
Carrie went to the storeroom door and disappeared as Aaron dried himself.
I got to him as he retied his hair, clearly embarrassed.
'Sorry you had to see that.'
'None of my business,' I said.
'Besides, I'll be gone tonight.'
'Carrie told me you'll need dropping off ten, right?'
Nodding, I released the water pressure and soaked my hands before cutting the supply and soaping up to get all the nitro off me.
'You said you had a map? Is it on the bookshelf?'
'Help yourself, and I'll get you a real compass.'
He passed me to hang the green towel next to mine on the line.
'You feeling better now? We were worried.'
I started to rinse off.
'Fine, fine, must have picked something up yesterday.
How's the jaguar?'
'They promised they're going to do something this time, maybe the 700, but I'll believe it when I see it.' He hovered awkwardly for a moment, then said, 'Well, Nick, I'm heading to go catch up on some work here. It's been sort of backing up on me this week.'
'See you later, mate.'
I pulled my towel off the line as he headed for the storeroom door.
TWENTY-SIX
Now that the sky had greyed over completely the storeroom was almost dark. I eventually found the string- pull for the light and a single fluorescent strip flickered on, dangling precariously from wires about six feet from the high ceiling.
The first thing I saw was that the weapon and ammunition had been placed on a shelf for me, along with a Silva compass and map.
I needed to make some 'ready rounds', so ripped about six inches off a roll of one-inch gaffa tape, placed a round on the sticky side, and rolled. As soon as the round was covered I placed another, rolled a little, then another, until four rounds were in a noiseless bundle, easy to fit into my pocket. I folded over the last two inches of tape to make it easier to pull apart, then started on another. A box of twenty was still going into the bergen; you never know how these jobs are going to end up.
I rummaged around in the medical case for the aspirin and threw two down my neck. They were helped on their way with a litre bottle of Evian I broke from a new case of twelve, and I lobbed three on to the cot for later.
My leg was starting to hurt again but I really couldn't be bothered to change the dressing. I'd be wet and covered with mud later tonight anyway, and the aspirin would help.
I had to prepare for as much as four nights in the field up to two on target and two in the jungle before popping out once the dust had settled and making my own way to the airport. Come what may, I needed to make Josh's by Tuesday.
I found an old A-frame bergen in the storeroom, its green canvas patchy with white haze after years of exposure to the elements. Joining the bergen and water on the cot went nine cans of tuna and an assortment of honey sesame bars that looked as if they'd get me through daylight hours.
Judging by what was on the shelves, they had certainly got their hands on enough of that military give-away. I grabbed a poncho and some dark green mozzie nets.
I could make a shelter from a poncho with the hood tied up and a couple of metres of string through the holes at each corner, and the mosquito nets would not only keep the beasties off me at night, but also act as camouflage netting.
I took three one for protection, and the other two for camouflaging me and the tub once we were in position. A large white plastic cylinder in a tree, tilted down at the road the other side of the gate, just might arouse suspicion.
Most importantly, I found a gollock, an absolute necessity for the jungle because it can provide protection, food and shelter. No one worth their salt is ever without one attached to their body once under the canopy. This one was US Army issue and much sturdier than the one Diego had been swinging at me. It was maybe six inches shorter, with a solid wooden handle and a canvas sheath with a light alloy lip.
I climbed up the angle-iron framework of the shelves and, holding on to one of the struts, checked out the goodies higher up. Next door, Luz suddenly sounded very pleased with herself.
'Yesss!' Baby-G told me it was 3.46 probably her schoolwork ending for the day. I wondered if she was aware of the arguments Aaron and Carrie had had about her. What did she know about what was happening now? If they thought she didn't know what was going on, they were probably kidding themselves if she was anything like Kelly she never missed a trick.
For a second or two my thoughts wandered to Maryland: we were in the same time zone, and right now Kelly would probably be doing the same as Luz, packing up her books. It was private, individual, and expensive, but the only way forward until she had adapted between the one-on-one attention she'd been receiving in the clinic and the push and shove of mainstream education alongside Josh's kids. I had a flash of worry about what would happen now that I wasn't going to make the second half of the money then remembered that that was the last thing to be concerned about.
I realized what I was doing and made the cut. I had to force myself to get on with the job wrong, the mission.
I knew what kit I wanted, which wasn't very much. I'd learnt the lesson the hard way, just like so many holiday makers who take five suitcases with them, only to discover they only use the contents of one. Besides food and water, all I needed was the wet clothes I'd be standing up in, plus a dry set, mozzie net, lightweight blanket and hammock. All this would be kept scrupulously dry in plastic in the bergen, and by the poncho at night. I already had my eye on the string hammock on the veranda if I didn't find anything better.
None of these things was absolutely essential, but it's madness to choose to go without. I'd spent enough time in the jungle on hard routine in places like Colombia, so close to the DMP that no hammock or poncho could be put up, sitting all night in the shit, back to back with the rest of the patrol, getting eaten alive by whatever's flying around or mooching over you from out of the leaf litter, not eating hot food or drink for fear of compromise due to flame and smell, while waiting for the right day to attack. It doesn't help if you're spending night after night like that with all your new insect mates, snatching no more than a few minutes' sleep at a time. Come first light, bitten to death and knackered, the patrol still has to get on with its task of watching and waiting.
Some patrols lasted for weeks like that, until trucks or helicopters eventually arrived to pick up the cocaine and we hit them. It's a fact that these conditions degrade the effectiveness of a patrol as time goes on. It isn't soft to sleep under shelter, a few inches above the shit rather than rolling around in it, it's pure common sense. I wanted to be alert and capable of taking that shot as easily on the second day as on the first, not with my eyes swollen up even more because I'd been trying to hardcore it in the shit the night before. Sometimes that has to happen, but not this time.
I carried on rooting around, climbing up and down the shelves like a howler monkey, and was so happy to find
