us?'
Lefleur, turning away from Lewis, walked over to Jan. For a moment, he looked her up and down, a grin on his face. Joe Bob, unable to restrain himself, stepped forward, muttering as he did so, 'Don't even think of it, you fucking shit.'
With a simple flick of his wrist, Lefleur turned his submachine gun on Joe Bob. Jan screamed again. 'No! Joe Bob! The bastard will kill you!'
Pausing, Joe Bob looked down the barrel of Lefleur's gun before backing off.
Looking back at Jan, Lefleur noticed her pants were wet. 'I must apologize to the lady. It seems my melodramatics have caused you to, how can I say, lose control of yourself.' Jan's face turned red from anger. He was baiting them, just playing with them and goading them to react so that he could shoot someone else.
When he saw that no one else was going to respond, Lefleur looked at the setting sun. 'We are wasting time. There is a long and, for you, mademoiselle, uncomfortable journey ahead.' With that, he signaled the Canadian and his driver to begin moving them to the van. Lewis, Jan, Ted, and Joe Bob were bound, gagged, and thrown into the back. Leaving the bodies of the public-affairs lieutenant and his driver, as well as their Humvee, Lefieur headed back to the base camp with his trophies. If this didn't get a rise out of the Americans, nothing would.
22
The good fighting man who honestly believes himself to be a pure mercenary in arms, doing it all for the money, may have to guard his convictions as vigilantly as any atheist.
Childress stormed into the one-story cinder-block building that had housed the offices of the abandoned mining camp, pushing an Irish mercenary against the wall as he did so. Regaining his balance, the stunned Irishman was about to lunge at Childress, but missed his chance as Childress threw open the door of Delapos's office and flew into the room, slamming the door behind him.
Stunned by Childress's sudden and violent appearance just as much as the Irishman, both Delapos and Lefleur ceased their discussion and turned to stare at the tall American standing before them, his nostrils flaring and face contorted in anger. Paying no attention to Lefleur, Childress rushed at Delapos. 'What in God's name do you think you're doing? Hostages were never part of the plan. And why in the hell wasn't I notified when they were brought in?'
Delapos's surprise turned to anger. 'What do you mean, coming into my office like that and speaking to me like I was some kind of peon?'
Too enraged to be brushed off with such a comment, Childress raised his right hand, his index finger uncurling from a tight fist. 'I asked you a question, Delapos. What in the hell are we doing with those hostages?
Have you lost your mind?'
If it was to be a challenge, then Delapos was ready to meet it. Kicking the chair that he had been sitting on out of his way as he stood, Delapos turned toward Childress and assumed a fighting stance. 'I am not going to stand here, in my own office, and be threatened by you, or anyone else, in this manner. When the time comes, I will tell you what I choose to tell you. Until then, your only concern is defense of the two base camps and, while they are here, the guarding of the prisoners.'
Still uncowed by the angry Mexican standing across from him, Childress continued to yell as he began to move closer to Delapos. 'Have you lost your fucking mind? This is stupid, fucking stupid. When did you…'
Instinctively responding to the threat that Childress presented, Delapos reached down with his right hand and pulled a commando knife from his boot. In a single, smooth motion, he brought it up to waist level, threw his left arm out for balance, and hunched down as he prepared to meet the American.
Without thinking, Childress stopped and prepared to defend himself, reaching down to grab for his pistols There was, however, no pistol to be found. In his haste, Childress had forgotten to strap his ankle holster on.
This sudden discovery flashed across his face, causing him to pause, then step back away from the menace Delapos now presented.
Delapos, alert and ready, had seen Childress's move and knew what he was doing. He was about to lunge forward in order to strike before the American was able to bring his pistol into play, but stopped when he saw the expression on Childress's face change. When he glanced down and saw Childress's right hand was empty, Delapos relaxed slightly and checked his attack.
'Did you forget something this morning, mon ami?'
In his anger, Childress had ignored Lefleur. While keeping an eye on Delapos, Childress slowly cut his eyes to his right. Lefleur, in his indomitable fashion, was seated next to a table, lounging back in a chair with his left elbow resting on the table and his legs crossed while he slowly sipped from a beer. Finished, he held his bottle of beer out in front of him, smacking his lips and belching before turning to Childress. 'It seems, my friend, you have come up empty-handed. Would you like to borrow my knife?'
Defenseless and caught off guard by Lefleur, Childress took another step back. Though he dropped his menacing stance and stood upright, he kept his guard up while turning slightly to his right so that he could watch both Delapos and Lefleur. 'Was this your idea, you ignorant son of a bitch?'
Lefleur refused to allow Childress to provoke him. Instead, he just played with his beer bottle while he spoke to Childress without looking at him. 'When I started, I really didn't know what I was going to do with the Americans. I suppose we could have killed them where we found them. But that seemed such a waste. Congressmen and star reporters are a rarity in these parts, you know.'
As intolerable as Lefleur's arrogant mocking was, Childress managed to keep his anger in check. 'So why didn't you kill them? That's what we're supposed to do. What in the hell are you going to do with them now?'
Placing the bottle on the table, Lefleur uncrossed his legs, planting both feet on the floor. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, he placed his hands on his knees with an audible slap and looked straight at Childress.
'Oh, I suppose, eventually, we will kill them. In fact, Senior Delapos and I were discussing that when you, ah, decided to join us. The only question seems to be how we can do so while achieving the greatest shock value from the act. Since neither of us is as well schooled in the fine arts of terror as Senior Alaman, we decided to send a message to him and ask for his advice in this rather delicate matter.'
'Lefleur, you're nuts.'
Lefleur laughed. 'Yes, that may be true. But at least, mon ami, I am armed.'
'Get out of here,' Delapos snarled. 'Get back to your duties and don't ever try this again. Do you understand?'
Turning his attention back to Delapos, Childress saw that his boss and former friend hadn't budged an inch or changed expression. He still stood ready, knife in hand, to strike. Without a word, and keeping his eyes on Delapos, Childress reached behind him and felt for the doorknob. When he opened the door, the Irishman he had shoved was in the hall and waiting for him. The Irishman, however, moved away and allowed Childress to back out of the room when he saw Delapos, standing there with a look of hatred in his eyes and his commando knife in hand. Whatever had transpired didn't concern him and he had no desire to become involved in a dispute between his boss and one of his lieutenants. The pay was too good.
When Childress was gone and Delapos relaxed, Lefleur stood up. 'It seems that our American friend is not happy with our decision.'
'He has lost his edge. He cannot be trusted.'
Trying hard to conceal his gloating, Lefleur sighed. 'Perhaps, amigo, our American friend has lost his taste for American blood.'
Replacing his knife, Delapos grunted. 'Perhaps. Whatever the reason, he cannot be trusted.'
