me in.
I moved back down the slope and, avoiding the helicopter, made my way round to the other side of the house as more thunder rumbled above. Picking my way through the mud, eventually moving up to the left of the house, I crested the high ground again. The shower-area light was now to my right, still trying to penetrate the curtain of rain.
Approaching the tubs, I became aware of the chug of the generator, and at that point got on to my hands and knees and began to crawl. The mud felt warm and lumpy on my bare skin, almost soothing the itchy swellings on my stomach.
The chug was soon drowned out by the rain beating on the lids of the plastic tubs. There were no signs of life from the house, and it wasn't until I drew level with the storeroom that I could just make out a thin sliver of light coming from beneath the door. I kept moving, and eventually saw a dull yellow glow filtering through the mozzie screen on the window between the bookshelves, but no movement inside.
There was no need to crawl any more as I got to the end of the tubs and drew level with the veranda and wagons. Covered in mud, I stood up and moved cautiously towards them.
I headed for the Land Cruiser, now pointing towards the track through the woods, rain hammering on its body work I stood off to the side and could see movement inside the house, though from this distance they wouldn't be able to see me.
'Lurking', standing in the shadows and watching, was a skill I'd learnt as a young squaddie in Northern Ireland, during long hours on foot patrol in Republican housing estates. We'd watch people eat their dinners, do the ironing, have sex.
Through the haze of rain and screens I could see the fans still spinning by the armchairs, which were empty. Three guys were sitting at the kitchen table, all dark-skinned and dark-haired, one with a beard. Weapons lay on the floor. Two of the guys wore chest harnesses. All of them were smoking, and seemed to be having a sober conversation. They were probably trying to make up the story of how we'd managed to get away.
There was no sign of Aaron.
I checked Baby-G as I blew out the water that ran down my face and into my mouth. Less than ninety minutes to go before they discovered he knew jack shit.
I moved off to the right so I could get an angle through the front entrance and see the bedroom doors. Both were closed. He was either in one of them, or inside the computer room; I'd find that out soon, but the priority was to check if the Mosin Nagant or M-16 were still in the Land Cruiser. There had been no light, no movement or steamed-up windows in any of the three wagons. It was safe to approach.
I wiped the water from the side windows and checked inside. No sign of either weapon or gollock, not that I could see much in the dark. It was a long shot, but I'd have been making a basic error if I hadn't checked.
I went to the rear of the wagon and slowly but firmly pressed the release button and opened the glass top section of the rear gate six inches, just enough for the interior lights to come on, then bent down and scanned the luggage area. No weapons, no bergen, no gollock. I pushed the section back down until it hit the first click and killed the lights.
I moved towards the storeroom to take a look through the gap under the door. As I passed the bookshelf window, too far from it for the weak light to illuminate me, I saw that all three were still sitting at the table.
The tin roof above me was getting pummelled big-time as I moved in towards the side of the house and stepped up on the concrete foundations of the extension.
The noise drowned anything it might have been useful to hear.
Moving back out into the rain and round the water butt, I could now see the light seeping from under the storeroom door. I got back on the concrete and down on my hands and knees, shook my head to get off as much water as I could so it wouldn't run into my eyes, then shoved my right eye against the gap.
I saw Aaron at once, sitting in one of the director's chairs under the glare of the computer-room strip lighting. A man, maybe mid-forties, in a green shirt and with no chest harness or weapon visible, was sitting next to him in the other canvas chair, in the act of offering him a cigarette, which he took.
Beyond them, sitting at Luz's computer and with his back to me, was a younger man, in blue, with long hair tied in a ponytail like Aaron's, except his was still black. I guessed by the primary colours darting about the screen and the frenzied movement of the mouse that he was playing a game. An M-16 was resting against the table beside him.
I looked back at Aaron. His nose was bloodied and his eyes swollen, and the right one had blood leaking from it. But he was smiling at the green guy, maybe feeling happy with himself that he'd got us away. I was glad he didn't know what had happened since.
By now the cigarette had been lit and he took long, grateful drags. Green Guy got up and said something to Blue, who didn't bother to turn from the game, just raising his free hand instead as Green Guy went into the living room to join the other three.
Right, so there were at least five of them, and there might be more in the bedrooms. What now?
I lay on the concrete and watched the inactivity for a few minutes as Aaron enjoyed his cigarette, taking it from his mouth, examining it between his thumb and forefinger, exhaling through his nose. I was trying to come up with something that would get me Aaron and one of those weapons.
Taking the final drag, he turned on his chair to look at Blue playing Luz's game, then he ground the dog-end into the concrete.
Shit! What's he up to?
I leapt back and scrambled behind the water butt just as the door burst open and light flooded the area. Aaron launched himself off the concrete into the mud, followed by startled Spanish screams.
As he ran and slithered into the darkness towards the tubs there was a long burst of automatic fire from within the storeroom.
I curled up, making myself as small as possible as yells echoed from the living room, together with the sound of feet pounding on floorboards.
Rounds were hitting the tin wall with dull thuds as the weapon burst out of control.
Aaron had already faded into the darkness when Blue got to the door, hollering in panic, and took aim with a short sharp burst.
I heard an anguished gasp, then chilling, drawn-out screams.
His pain was quickly drowned by panicky M-16s opening up through the window between the bookshelves to my right, just blasting away into the night. Their muzzle flashes created arcs of stroboscopic light outside the window, as the mesh screen disintegrated.
Blue was screaming at the top of his voice probably to cease firing, because that was what happened. Panic and confusion ricocheted between them in rapid, high-pitched Spanish. Someone was with Blue at the door, and they shouted at each other as if they were trading on the stock market. Other voices weighed in from just inside the living area.
I stayed curled up to conceal myself behind the water butt as Blue moved out into the rain towards Aaron. The rest withdrew inside, still shouting at each other.
I had to act: now was my time. I stepped into the rain after him, keeping to the right of the door to avoid the light, quickly checking through the storeroom for movement. There wasn't any.
Rain fell into my eyes and blurred my vision. Blue's back was just visible in the light spilling from the storeroom, as he advanced on the dark, motionless shape of Aaron on the ground a few metres ahead of him. The M-16 was in his right hand, and the muzzle was trailing down alongside his calf.
I was no more than five paces behind him, and still walking. I didn't want to run and risk slipping. I kept moving, concentrating on the back of his head. He was taller than me. Now nothing else mattered as I entered his zone. He'd sense I was there soon.
I leapt behind him and a bit to his right, jamming my left leg between his, body checking him, at the same time grabbing at his face with my left hand, pulling hard, trying to pull him back over me. I wanted his mouth, but felt mostly nose when the warmth of his shout hit my hand. The weapon fell between us as his hands came up to snatch my hand away.
Still pulling hard, I arched him backwards, yanking back his head, presenting his throat. I raised my right hand high above my head, palm open, and swung down hard to chop across his throat. I had no idea where it landed, but he dropped like a stunned pig in an abattoir, taking me with him into the mud.
