Chapter Nine

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Zero hour was 23.25, though we left twenty-five minutes earlier . . . what Captain had referred to as surreptitious strategy. However, I had seen the colonel before we left and reassured him that Steve will be back unhurt. About twenty-two minutes after takeoff, we were flying over Vryheid and the big, tall trees made some spectacular hedgerow below as the elusive half-moon cast its light on them. Apart from that occasional spectacle, the whole wilderness remained pitch black most of the time, and no other sound was heard except the irritating clatter made by the whirling blades of the old helicopter.

Suddenly, Captain pointed at a tree, and in a matter of seconds, we were hovering over it. The branches whirred and swayed dangerously as the blades whirled endlessly in the air. The assistant soon found a suitable grip and instantly dropped the cable. Captain slide down on one of the branches, and then the chopper moved slightly forward, and I landed on another just above his. He then shouted out to the men that we were clear, and they should get off immediately. However, he was quick to warn them to leave the engine running at the designated location, since we had some trouble starting it earlier.

We only waited long enough for them to leave before we began to descend from the tree. Captain had specifically picked that tree because it offered so many branches, which made climbing down easy. The way he swung from one branch to the other in spite of the darkness would have made a spider monkey go green with envy, and I wondered if he had done it several times before. I followed with steady progress and grinned to myself as I also wondered if I were actually doing that too. I couldn't possibly remember the last time I climbed a tree that high.

It was a bit exerting as we descended. The air at that altitude was slightly stiff, leaving a tight band across my chest that made breathing a little difficult; so I decided to sit for a moment and catch my breath, but stiffened almost immediately as I heard a strident hiss behind me that brought cold shiver down my spine, freezing my heart and sending blood singing in my ears. I gradually turned my head around, extremely careful not to make any other move, and then what I saw made my frozen heart kicked violently against my chest: a black mamba, one of the two species of the most lethally venomous snakes on earth. It strikes with lightning speed, and it's noted as the fastest of all snakes. Its venom could kill a man within a short while if the appropriate help does not reach the victim, and as I sat helplessly on the tree, I wondered if any kind of help could reach anyone at all in this God-forsaken bush.

It stood motionless with its black mouth glittering in the light of the moon as it stood agape, while its flat black eyes continued to stare hard at me. I had vehemently objected to the idea of being dropped on a tree, but Captain had explained that it was the only way we won't attract attention. He said the pilot would have to hover over the bush for too long, especially as it was dark, to find a clearing on the ground where he could land, and as I sat hopelessly staring back at the snake, I couldn't imagine I had been so crazy to have easily accepted such glib.

My heart suddenly gave a sickening lurch when the snake glided forward with its black tongue tasting the air more rapidly than usual. It stopped dead within four feet as Captain's voice filtered through the still, silent night from somewhere below. He called again, and I badly wanted to tell him the quandary I was in, but I knew that if I uttered even a word, I might as well be picked up dead sooner than anyone could imagine. I felt my hunting knife, but instantly decided against using it. If the moon reflected on its blade, I thought, I would be in for more serious trouble. However, I pulled out my gun and was pleased that my hand was steady.

Captain must have guessed that I was in some sort of trouble since I wasn't answering, so he kept calling and ruffling leaves below. His antics soon became somewhat a monotonous distraction to the snake that it shifted its attention and began to move forward again. Though the branch I sat on was wide and strong enough, I needed to wedge my foot against a branch beneath for additional support, and while I was trying to do that, my foot brushed against some leaves and instantly, the snake took off for my face, but it was a split second late. It jerked back with the same speed as the bullet ripped through it.

I sat still with my heart thumping after I had managed to regain my balance. It was a damn close shave, I thought.

"What was that?" Captain asked as he held the same branch I was sitting on. I pointed the gun at him out of shock but quickly tucked it away. I didn't hear him coming up, so I was slightly shaken to have heard him so close.

"A snake, a Mamba," I answered disjointedly, "and it almost got me," I added, still flustered.

"Well, for God's sake, let's get down," he said. "I was worried sick down there. I thought something had happened to you," he stated impatiently.

"It was a very close one, and I was just extremely lucky," I returned as I followed him without further hesitation.

The twelve-foot high perimeter fence of Legion's outfit was some thirty yards away, and on the far right was the main road that led to the entrance gates. I could still vividly recollect the markings on the road as George and I were being driven to the camp a few days back, under the watchful eyes of his men, like two sheep being led to the slaughter. It was really an exerting walk, and I was glad that we were finally close after breaking through a trail in the bush for almost an hour. Though Captain knew the terrain well enough as he claimed, there was still the fear of possible encounters with dangerous wild animals or being ambushed by drunken bandits combing the bushes.

I was just saying we should take a little rest before the onslaught as we drew closer, when Captain stopped abruptly. My gun jumped into my hand, and I instinctively took cover amongst the thickets, extremely alert. Several seconds passed, and I neither saw nor heard anything that should warn us of possible trouble or danger, but he was still standing on the path. I came out of hiding after a minute or two and advanced slowly toward him with my gun still at the ready. I was alarmed how fast my heart was beating, how rapid my breath hissed between my clenched teeth, and I could feel cold sweat running down my back.

"What is it?" I whispered, keeping a safe distance from him.

"I think I'm standing on a mine," he answered in a rush.

"Good God!" I exclaimed, gaping at him as a feeling of apprehension overwhelmed me. I suddenly realized that the onslaught might as well have ended even before it began. Who could've imagined that someone like Legion would think to lay mines outside of the camp, I wondered as my mind raced over the situation. It was obvious that we had underestimated what he was capable of. However, I knew the earlier I did something, the better for both of us.

"Which of your legs?"

"The left, but you had better go."

"Go where?" I retorted, "Just stay calm and in no time, I'll get you off it," I said wittily.

"All right, maybe the colonel would love a double funeral," he said with a hint of sarcasm.

"Just keep your trap shut and stay calm."

I brought out my hunting knife, sat on my heels, and began to remove the earth around his foot. After removing enough of it, I felt for the pin but couldn't find it. I was a little puzzled, though, I knew there were different types of landmines; but they are all made in a similar way. I hurriedly dug out more of the earth, leaving the cap exposed.

"Adjust your foot but don't take off your weight," I told him, as I got ready to push the blade of the knife between the sole of his shoe and the cap. He shifted his foot as I instructed, and I carefully pushed in the blade. Though my teeth were clenched and beads of cold sweat broke out on my face, my hand remained as steady as a rock.

"Lift your foot completely and move away," I instructed further without lifting my face up as I pressed the cap against the wall of the mine to maintain the same pressure and position. He lifted his foot but was reluctant to move.

"Move away!" I snapped. He did, and I switched on my flashlight to examine the cap, and then heaved a sigh of relief when I saw it was only the springy top of a flat metal object half buried in the ground.

I sat heavily on the trunk of a fallen tree, just by the path, brought out my hip flask, and took a good pull.

"You had better sit down," I said and extended the flask to him. He sat down, took the flask after a brief hesitation, and then took a large swig and handed it back.

"What the hell was that metal doing buried there?" I asked suddenly after another long pull.

"Search me," he replied, grinning as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "We had better be going," he went on. "We've wasted enough time already."

"You can say that again," I returned and stood up instantly.

Finally, we came to the spot Captain was looking for after walking along the perimeter fence for quite a while. The wall was solidly built, and he confirmed that neither the wall nor the rusty barbed wire lining its top was electrified. There were no security cameras either, and but for the dull spotlight that roved around the grounds from a watchtower at one of the corners of the fence, everywhere would have been in total darkness. He brought out a small but strong-looking grapnel with knotty rope from his backpack, and then measuring accurately, he threw it atop the wall, gave it a slight pull, and it held.

He took other useful gadgets out of the pack, stuffed them in his hip pocket, and left the pack by the wall. He asked me if I was ready to go and I nodded. He made a few swift moves with the rope and was on top of the wall in no time. Then he cut the barbed wire with a pair of wire-cutters, pushed them aside, and another swift move took him to the other side of the fence. I smiled and nodded with admiration as I watched him go over the wall. I have always known that he was a smart and courageous guy. A few seconds later, the rope dropped by my side, and following his lead, I made the same moves too.

We crouched behind flowering plants for a few minutes to be sure that no one saw us coming down. When we were satisfied that no one had noticed us, I stood up to conceal the rope amidst the plants and had the spot marked with an illuminating tape which I strapped to the stem of one of the plants.

"Why did you have to do that?" Captain asked in a whisper as we began to pick our way carefully toward the buildings.

"We might have to use it to leave here faster than we came in," I returned, grinning.

"Don't you think someone might spot it and raise an alarm?" he asked with a worried frown knitting his brow as usual.

"Then let them spot it," I replied impatiently. "It might make no difference," I said. He left it at that, but I was sure he was certainly worried about it.

"Forget it, will you?" I said, and gave him a pat on the back. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

"I hope you do," he returned, "or else it will be everyone's funeral," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

The prison house was some twenty yards from where we hid, and the helicopter stood about twenty-three yards or so away to the left. We had been in the station for close to seventeen minutes, and it hadn't been easy getting that far. We had practically hidden behind every object or building along the way as we noticed men with automatic rifles walking aimlessly about, like forlorn destitute men in the big compound. Many of them were not in uniform, so we both agreed to break cover and move on a bit freely, since we had already lost so much time, especially in hiding. However, we also decided it was wise to give them a wide berth as we proceeded, unless it was absolutely unavoidable.

We moved on confidently from there but were extremely alert too and as we made a turn at a corner, two men appeared from the shadows and were heading straight toward us. Captain began to rap in Afrikaans and quickly suggested, in a whisper, that I should give off a laugh when he snapped his fingers.

"Why?" I asked suspiciously.

"Just do what I said," he returned hurriedly. "There's no time to explain," he added and went on rapping. I felt it was necessary to respond to his rap before the need for the laugh, so I began to do that with a hum sound, even though I didn't understand what he was saying. I decided his humbug might eventually pay off, but as the men drew closer, I began to doubt such antics since we hadn't thought about it before then, and it could turn out fatal if the men were properly trained. Surprisingly, the men had almost passed us without saying a word until I gave off a phony laugh after Captain had said something and snapped his fingers simultaneously.

"Shut-da-fuck-up," one of the men yelled as he stepped between Captain and me. Instantly, my hand slid into my hip pocket, and I felt the cold butt of my gun. However, I withdrew my hand almost immediately as I noticed that neither the man nor his companion had any intention to start any roughhouse business. He scolded Captain with harsh words, speaking intermittently in both English and Afrikaans. Though I couldn't see his face clearly, he was rather spiteful and haughty. He was the taller of the two men and had a baldhead a vulture might envy.

Neither Captain nor I responded to all he had to say, so he began to look at us with suspicion and particularly stared intently at me while he spoke. I became alert again but managed to keep my face deadpan. His companion watched the whole drama in heavy silence. He was totally indifferent and looked extremely bored.

"Come on, Gregory!" he exclaimed. "I've had enough of this mess in one night. Let's get the hell out of here," he said roughly and began to move away. Gregory gave us one last creepy stare and slid away too.

"Man!" I exclaimed, "Didn't you nearly get us into trouble? What was that all about?" I asked in a whisper as we moved away swiftly out of sight.

"I was telling you he was the baldhead whose mother I laid two weeks ago," he answered with a sly grin.

"You didn't say that, did you?" I asked incredulously, gaping at him.

"Of course I did, and your laugh sure got him where he lived," he returned, still grinning wolfishly.

"And that was supposed to bring us some help, I guess?" I asked rather sarcastically.

"I would rather say helpful excitement," he returned genially.

"Just be careful you don't get us into any more trouble than we can handle," I scowled at him.

"All right, we won't have any more of that," he promised.

"We had better not," I returned sorely.

The time was exactly 01.03 when we got to the wooden fence that enclosed the prison house. A radio was blaring out rock music from the small guardhouse, and above the noise, we could hear a woman moaning. Captain and I exchanged glances without saying a word. The fence was just about six-foot high, but we had to go over it at the rear of the building, so we moved along quietly and watchfully too, with our guns in hands. When we got to a safer spot, Captain went over and after a minute or two I joined him. We waited with bated breath for another minute, and then I ran across the lawn with Captain at my heels, and we quickly took cover in the shadows of the building.

We stood still for a little while to be certain that we had not been seen or heard by anyone, and then began to creep in the shadows along the wall toward the front of the building. There were three guards on duty. One was sitting on the third of the four steps leading to the porch of the house and another was leaning against the balustrade, while the third paced the porch as if he had the worries of the whole world on his shoulders.

The three men wore faded blue jeans; however, the man on the steps had on a denim jacket and the one leaning against the balustrade wore a green sports jacket, while their companion had on a camouflage jacket. Though they were young and looked every inch tough, it was obvious that they were tired and bored with their dreary assignment. I was sure they were probably pondering what sense it made to keep three kids and poor George and Steve under such strict guard. But knowing the snake Legion was, I wasn't surprised at such an arrangement. He probably knew, as I do, that the colonel would never be able to come up with the ransom and guessed his most convenient option would be to organize a rescue mission. Well, we are here now, I thought. We shall soon find out how prepared they've gone to stop us.

I took in the rest of the area in seconds; it was completely deserted, in sharp contrast to the surroundings, which bustled with activities, as men kept parading the whole grounds, even though it was late hours of the night. The helicopter stood some few yards away from the fence, and there was no one around it either. I was surprised to realize that it seemed closer from that vantage point than we had thought. If our luck held, I thought, we could get away in it, instead of calling for that beat-up, old sputtering engine that dropped Captain and I.

I returned my attention to the three on the porch and was alert as I noticed that the man leaning over the balustrade had left. But I relaxed as I saw he had only changed his position; he was leaning against the wall, just inside the porch. I took a good look at him as the light shown on him and was shocked to see how savage his lean, dark face looked. He was tall, thin, and barrel-chested. A deep scar ran down the side of his face, from his forehead to his chin. His eyes were unusually large and hooded, and his mouth was crookedly drawn to the left side of his face. His split nose was unmistakable, perhaps battered in a brawl. He gave the usual impression of long-suffering, bitterness, and hatred—typical of Legion's men.

The man pacing the floor was a tall, very lean youth around twenty-two years of age. His uncut hair was dark and greasy. His thin face was the color of deep mahogany, and his eyes, like tiny beads, dwelt closely on either side of a thin, narrow nose. His lips were loose and turning black, obviously from cigarette smoke, and he carried a look of fixed contempt. He also looked restless, and his movement was somewhat erratic.

I was just going to take a closer look at the man sitting on the step, when scar face suddenly sprang off the wall as if propelled by a hidden object. He muttered something to the other men, who paid him no attention, and ran down the steps leaving his rifle where he stood. Captain and I stiffened, but fortunately, he went the other way.

"You watch these two," I told Captain in a whisper. "I'll check him out." By the time I got around the building, he was just fastening the zipper of his pants. I stalked him like a cat would its prey, and before he knew what hit him, he was already on the ground. I bound his arms, legs, then gagged him and pushed him into a corner of the building in a sitting position. "One down, two more to go," I muttered, grinning to myself. When I got back, I noticed that Captain was a little worried but brightened up as he saw me. The man sitting on the steps hadn't changed his position, and the youth kept at his floor-pacing job.

I told Captain that we would have to jump the two men at the same time and as soon as was possible too, before they began to wonder what had happened to scar face. I brought out a small plastic container filled with chloroform from my pocket, spread a little of the substance on a piece of cloth, and handed the container to Captain. He did the same and gave it back. With a nod of my head for a signal, Captain and I swooped on both men. In split seconds, I had jumped over the balustrade and before the man could turn around, I gripped him firmly with the cloth over his nose and mouth. He struggled and kicked for a moment, but the chemical quickly took its toll on him.

I looked over my shoulder and saw that the other guy was already unconscious in Captain's hand. I bet they would never be able to tell what had happened to them, I thought, as I carried the man on my shoulder and ran down the steps to join Captain who had already started moving behind the building with the inert body of the man on his shoulder. I laid the man carefully on the ground and told Captain to do the same with the man he was carrying. I felt we needed to take such caution since we had no intention to injure or kill any of them if we could help it.

We searched the men thoroughly but found no keys on them. Suddenly, I remembered scar face and quickly ran to where I laid him. He had begun to come around, but I had him properly bound and gagged. I frisked him thoroughly as well but found, to my dismay and annoyance, that he didn't have the keys either. What could this mean? The keys should have been with the men, I thought, and scratched my chin as I walked back to where I left Captain. And I could see by the look on his face that he was more confused when I told him that I didn't find the keys on scar face.

"Where the hell could they possibly hide them?" he asked dejectedly.

"Search me!" I returned solemnly and grimaced.

"Well, we had better get back; we might as well force the lock," he suggested.

"But someone might notice us doing that," I said grimly.

"That's a risk we have to take," he returned sourly. "Let's go," he implored. "We've wasted more than enough time hanging out here."

"I guess you're right," I said as I saw him pick up the rifle of the man he had carried, and we both hurried back to the front of the building—but came to an abrupt stop at the foot of the steps. Three men were standing on the porch. Two held the same rifle Captain and I were holding, while the third man stood with arms akimbo at the top of the steps, his automatic hanging loosely in its holster around his waist. George's description of him couldn't have been more perfect.

He was Sergeant Major Daniel Klone, and he and Legion ran the crazy outfit. He wore a khaki jacket with brown cotton pants and a pair of black brogues. He could be any age between forty-four and forty-seven, and he was fast graying. He was tall and heavily built, which was a rare feature in Legion's outfit. Although he was magnificently tanned, his beady eyes were cruel, bloodshot, and looked as hard as flint. I couldn't immediately take my eyes off him to have a good look at the other men as their presence had given us some nerve-racking jolts.

"Where the hell are you boys coming from?" he asked after a long searching look, "that you had to leave that there?" He pointed to scar face's gun still leaning on the wall where he had left it. That was a dumb thing to have done, I thought, but I managed to keep my expression grim as he stared at me.

"Well, sir, the man was bitten by a snake, so we had to rush him out to the . . . I mean, for first aid," Captain volunteered rather hastily. I was certain he was going to say clinic or hospital but stopped himself quickly since he wasn't sure the facility existed in such a dump.

"Bitten by a snake!" he exclaimed, with his cruel beady eyes popping out, as I knew they would.

"Is that right?" he asked and turned to face me. His red eyes and the strong smell of garlic and cheap whisky on his breath told me without a shadow of a doubt that he had been having a ball all evening, and I can't say I blamed him; what else was there for a lump like him to do in such a godforsaken place?

"Yes sir!" I nodded, holding my breath at the same time but careful not to wrinkle my nose as I was aware that one of the men with him had been staring at me dubiously.

"Certainly, but that does not excuse you from the offence," he said emphatically after a brief silence. "Both of you must see me first thing this morning, all right?"

"Yes sir!" Captain and I chorused, and I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was trying so hard to brace himself just as I was. What a ridiculous clown, the man was, I thought.

"Now, how did it happen?" he queried on with his usual searching look.

"He didn't really say what he was going to do behind the building, but we imagined he was going to have a quick pee. Not quite two minutes after he left, we heard a terrible scream, and by the time we got there, he was close to death, so we moved him as fast as we could and get back on guard," I stated, having laced my words with so much accent that I could scarcely believe it was coming from me, and kept my face straight.

"Back on guard, you said?" he returned with a hint of sarcasm, staring at us doubtfully. I knew that was coming since we came from behind the building, and I hadn't battered my head for nothing to produce a convincing lie.

"We were told he would have a good chance of making it if we could identify the snake, or better still, have it killed and brought to them," I returned, with my face still straight.

"And did you?" he asked brusquely.

"It must have gotten away," Captain ventured tactfully before I could respond.

"Have you reported any of this?" he asked, with an unmistakable threat in his voice.

"We left that to the first aid people, so we could resume our position immediately," Captain offered guardedly.

"Indeed!" he said, after a brief silence. "Who posted you boys here?" he asked abruptly. Captain and I looked helplessly at each other, but he looked beyond us, grimaced, and spat bitterly as he stared at the guardhouse. The rock music still blared out, and I was sure the woman hadn't ceased moaning.

"One of these days I'm—" He was saying, then broke off immediately. I also learned from George that he never saw eye to eye with Legion's degenerate of a brother. In fact, the two men hated each other with a violent passion.

"Open the door," he ordered sharply after a brief pause, staring balefully at me.

"Sorry sir, he has the keys, and he warned us to stay clear of him," I replied and pointed at the guardhouse with my left hand as I surreptitiously fingered the butt of the gun in my pocket and threw Captain a warning glance in the same manner.

"Stay clear of him!" he exclaimed, "Is he insane?" he asked, exasperated, his eyes turning glassy, and I put on my, well, you tell me expression.

"It's about time Legion did something about his nuisance of a brother," he went on. "He's certainly a bad influence on you boys," he said almost to himself. "Raymond!" he called.

"Yes, sarge!" answered one of the men. He had been staring at me with certain curiosity since we came from the back of the building, but obviously unsure of his suspicion. It was no surprise that the man and his men couldn't tell that we were not their men. Since he and Legion's brother do not see eye to eye, it was obvious that their loyalists don't either.

I took a good look at Raymond as he stood forward. He wore a camouflage jacket and faded black jeans with dirty, high brown boots. He was tall, lean, and looked reckless. However, it was his lean saturnine face with a deep scar that gave me a sudden shock as the strong beam of light from the guardhouse shone on it. The scar was a deep burn on his left cheek, and it ran toward his eyes and mouth. It almost sealed the left side of his lips together, giving his face a monstrous look. He certainly looked every inch brutish and cruel.

"Go and get the keys from that idiot," the sergeant ordered, and my heart skipped a beat, but before the reluctant man could get any further, the sergeant called him back. I reckoned he had imagined it wouldn't be wise to start any kind of uproar with Legion's brother at that time of the night; not even the amount of alcohol he had taken could give him the confidence to act otherwise. He brought out some keys from his hip pocket, picked one of them, pushed it into my hand, and asked me to open the door. The door led into a narrow hallway with a single door on the right at the far end, and just by the entrance was a metal hook with a key hanging on it.

"Get the key, fool!" the sergeant bawled contemptuously as I walked zealously toward the door. I brushed past him and snatched the key off the hook without saying a word. Anger and bitterness rose inside of me, but I quickly kept them under control since the cards had already begun to turn in our favor, and I knew it would be foolhardy to say or do anything stupid at that point.

I walked past him again with the key; he followed with his men behind while Captain brought up the rear. It was too good to be real, I thought, as I inserted the key and turned it. The latch slid back but the door held. I fiddled it repeatedly in frustration but to no avail. The sergeant took the key in anger and impatience. He tried also, but he failed to open the door. He was about to flip his lid when Captain swiftly moved around the men and took over, and with a little flip, the door swung open.

We all filed in, and I deliberately stood close to the sergeant as Captain and I held our rifles up, the same way the two men held theirs, while the sergeant stood akimbo as usual. The hall was more like a waiting room than a prison. There were four benches against the walls; two stood on either side of the hall, while six medium-sized mattresses with pillows and bed sheets lined the opposite wall. Each of the eight high windows had strong iron bars across it, and though unusually small, it was enough to allow good air into the hall, and finally a door, which I presumed should lead into a bathroom, stood at the far end on the right.

George and Steve sat on one of the benches, his kids cuddled up together on another while a man lay supine across the other two. The man instantly jumped to his feet by the time it occurred to him that we had entered the hall. The sergeant ignored him and ordered that Steve should be brought forward. I instantly left the line before anyone else did and went to where he sat, pulled him up, and thrust him forward. I walked him as close as was possible to where the two guards and Captain were standing, and then resumed my position.

"We haven't heard from that old bloke," the sergeant said suddenly. "But we've promised him that by this afternoon, if we still haven't heard from him," he went on coercively, "we shall begin to send him parts of your body to tell how serious we meant business, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to lose any of your beautiful ears," he stated with a mirthless grin on his lips.

"Not on your miserable life!" I exclaimed, as I placed the muzzle of his own gun, which I had quietly removed from its holster as he threatened Steve, at his neck, while Steve and Captain had instantly disarmed his two guards.

"What the hell is this all about?" he asked with his cruel eyes looking more menacing while Raymond and the other guard looked on in humiliation and amazement as they were completely caught unawares. I suddenly gave the sergeant a sharp blow on the head with the butt of his own gun; he cowered and then slumped to the floor.

"What did you have to do that for?" Steve asked quietly, looking up at the kids across the hall as he held Raymond's rifle pointed at his chest.

"Well, I've had enough of his crap for one night," I returned with a jeering grin on my lips.

A few minutes later, Steve and Captain quickly had Raymond and the other guard bound, while George calmed his kids, who had begun to flip. The man who was lying down when we walked in was also bound and gagged. According to George, he was brought in the afternoon the day before, and the way he looked at them from the corner of his eyes, he had presumed he might have been brought in to spy on them, so we decided it could be risky to have him loose.

Shortly after we had the men bound and gagged, Captain, Steve, and I stepped out onto the porch, while George and his kids remained in the hallway. We only stood long enough to make sure it was safe to make the next move. Captain proceeded carefully to the chopper; I stood by the door of the guardhouse while Steve remained on the porch. The noise made by the rock music had reduced and no other sound came from the room. However, I didn't let that bother me. If Legion's brother should step out of the room, I was sure to take him down first.

A minute or two later, Captain signaled that the helicopter was all right, and I gave the same message to Steve. A minute after, George's daughter walked down the steps of the prison house. Steve encouraged her with a nod to keep walking toward the guardhouse. She wore a light blue turtleneck sweater over close-fitting black jeans and a pair of brown loafers. Her long wavy auburn hair was neatly parted at the center, and although she was just fourteen, anyone who saw her then as she walked boldly toward me would certainly agree that she was fast growing into a beautiful woman.

I gave her a bright smile as she approached and gently opened the wooden gate of the fence, and then nudged her to go on toward the helicopter. Her walk was brisk but cautious, and I felt delighted at her unflinching courage as she stepped into the helicopter. She was indeed a strong girl as her father had said. A minute later, the two boys who had been watching their sister from the door of the prison house came down the same way too. They were almost identical, but one was a little taller than the other. They both wore blue jeans and tennis shoes. However, their sweaters were of different colors. One was dark green while the other was brown. I gave them a bright smile too as they walked the same way their sister had done, though a little timidly. They were, nevertheless, as courageous as the girl had been.

The boys had almost entered into the helicopter when two guards appeared out of the shadows, but before they could level up their guns, Captain brought them down with two straight shots, and instantly, the engine of the helicopter roared to life as bullets from the AK-47 of one of the men clattered on the body of the helicopter while he went down. Steve and George instantly broke into a run, but I remained by the door of the guardhouse, knowing that Legion's brother would soon come out of it, and he did, as stupidly as I had anticipated. I clubbed him on the head with the sergeant's gun, kicked him back into the room, pulled the door shut, and then ran to join the others as the woman began to scream. I held George back while Steve helped the second boy into the helicopter.

"Where can I find Legion?" I shouted above the roaring of the engine and the clatter of the rotating metal blades.

"Forget him, Mike. Let's just get the hell out of here," George pleaded.

"Where is he?" I roared in exasperation, griping the collar of his shirt.

"Okay, you son of a bitch," he screamed above the sound of the engine. "He holes up in that building over there." He pointed to the roof of a building just about forty yards away and shielded by other smaller buildings.

"Sure?" I asked, staring intently into his eyes.

"Of course, I'm sure, and get your hands off my shirt!" he exclaimed.

"All right," I said as I let go of him. "Take your kids and go. I'll be just fine, but remind Captain to get his men on red alert. I'll be calling for them very soon," I added with a wry grin on my lips.

"You bet I will," he returned as he took my hand and began to say how glad he was, but I shook him off impatiently and shouted at Captain to take the kids away. "Well, since you insist on being foolhardy, you might as well save Lydia," he stated hurriedly as the helicopter began to lift off the ground.

"Save Lydia? What are you talking about?" I screamed above the noise of the engine.

"Her life is in danger and . . ." I heard him say before the noise drowned out the rest of his words.

Moments later, the blast of a siren started to fill the air, followed by gunshots as men filed out from all corners of the camp, and I managed to reach the fence, enclosing parts of the area bordering the helicopter's pad without being noticed. The men kept shooting at the helicopter, and in the commotion, no one saw me climb the fence, and with a swift move, I dropped neat on the other side. However, as I did, two men came running from a corner of a building and would have run into me if I hadn't ducked instantly into the shadows.

Right after the men passed, I broke into a run toward the building George had pointed to. Two turns to the left and another fast break brought me to the front of the building. I was glad that there were no men around as all their attention had been on the helicopter, which had finally zoomed off, leaving a lingering echo behind. It had hovered for a while in the dark sky while the men shot continuously at it, and I wondered why Captain would decide to play with the kids on board, or perhaps the helicopter had suddenly developed a problem, but as I watched it go easily, I realized he had put up the act for my benefit. He wanted to hold the men's attention as long as he could, and I reckoned it might have been George's idea.