Chapter 24
Glossary – cailleach Scots Gaelic (pronounced ‘gah-lic) for ‘old woman’
The day was dry and sunny but muggier than of late, the autumn now beginning to get a grip on the island of San Miguel. Now was the time for hurricanes, although the island seemed to not usually be affected by them.
Brodie accompanied Pieter and Irwin Trubshaw to the small, heavily-secured weapons room. Punching in the code on the key-pad they entered, and Pieter unlocked the cabinet holding the team’s selection of handguns. Looking over the weapons chained to the framework, he selected an old but immaculate Webley Mark VI and handed it to Irwin Trubshaw, who hefted the big revolver with satisfaction. Breaking it open, he checked out the mechanism and studied the cylinder. He smiled grimly.
"Re-ground for .45s, I take it?"
Brodie and Pieter exchanged surprised glances, but it was the South African that answered.
"Yeah. Easier to get hold of forty-fives than four-forty-fives. Big, nasty gun. Very effective." He cocked a curious eye at the Englishman. "I hope to God you’ve got ear-muffs if you ever have to shoot the bastard," he said, referring to the racket the Webley made when it was fired.
Irwin smiled as he finished his check and looked up at Pieter van Guelder.
"You colonials – no ‘bottom’, that’s your problem. Now, I’ll need a couple of boxes of cartridges and a holster."
Van Guelder sorted out two boxes of .45 ACP cartridges and a leather belt holster, and Irwin signed for the lot in the duty-book.
"You don’t want a shoulder-holster?" Pieter asked.
Irwin shook his head.
"Certainly not. Ruin the cut of my jacket, to say the least - and," he added, "I would presume we don’t want to alarm Katy?" Seeing Brodie’s frown he continued. "If she sees me suddenly carrying a concealed weapon for no reason she may become distressed – if it’s in plain sight and I explain the situation regarding the capture of the baboon, then I’m sure she will think no more about it."
Brodie nodded.
"Yeah. That’ll do." he rubbed a big hand over his face, smoothing down his moustache. "I just wish I could send her off the island for a day or two while we catch this big bastard. Cunningham offered me his penthouse for Tara and Katy, but now ..." His voice tailed off.
The three men stood silently for long moments as they thought about the threat from Sonny Esposito.
"Chief ..." Pieter’s voice was hesitant. "Do you have any idea why Esposito may come after Katy? I mean, he doesn’t seem to have had much interest in her before, and it doesn’t really follow. Why now?"
Brodie shook his head.
"Damned if I know. Maybe he’s suddenly got himself a conscience and wants to take care of his only kid, but somehow I doubt it," he added wryly. "Nope. The sonofabitch has something up his sleeve, I can feel it. I just wish I goddamn knew what the hell it is."
Pieter glanced at Irwin and saw the worry mirrored in the accountant’s green eyes.
"Don’t worry about it boss – she’ll be well protected. We have the best bloody security system in this part of Mexico, so I would think if we’re careful she’ll be safe enough." Pieter lifted a big hand and hesitated for only a second before clapping Brodie on the shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.
Brodie felt suddenly very vulnerable.
He had not gone out of his way to make friends with the people he worked with ... he was not a gregarious man. Jeez, he thought to himself. I’m a mean sonofabitch at the best of times. Why the hell are they doing this?
A knot of fear sat in his stomach like a stone. He had once told Tara she should go find a real man, a whole man ... one who could make love to her the way a man should ... a man who could protect her and care for her and the little girl she adored. He was a crippled old wreck – how the fuck could he stop Esposito with only one good leg to stand on? He couldn’t move any faster than a turtle with rheumatism.
But at least he wasn’t alone – for some odd, crazy reason the men and women who worked with him were backing him to the hilt, and he didn’t know how to handle it. Frank Brodie had never had people care about him like this before, and it unnerved the crap out of him.
Sensing Brodie’s discomfort, Irwin cleared his throat.
"Ah … I’d better be getting back. Our young Miss Katherine will be awaiting her lessons and it wouldn’t do to be late. Mister Brodie, I would appreciate it if you could possibly inform Nurse Monaghan that due to the present situation I will be unable to come to dinner tonight as we had previously arranged? "Irwin’s eyebrows arched in query.
Pieter van Guelder blinked in surprise, but he recovered quickly. "You and Dervla? Attila the Hun? Bloody hell – you’re a better man than I am, Irwin, I’ll tell you that for nothing."
Irwin to his credit did not rise to the bait, but smiled politely. "Nurse Monaghan is a lady of great taste and perception ... as, I expect, is Doctor Smith, wouldn’t you say Mister van Guelder?"
Brodie had to duck his head to hide the grin that threatened to break out on his mobile face as Pieter van Guelder flushed in embarrassment. Jeez! Who else knows about ‘em? The whole goddamn island I expect ... and Brodie began to relax a little, secretly glad that his two compatriots had managed to take his mind off his own shortcomings for a little while.
Well, there was nothing more he could do right now about Esposito and his machinations, so, he decided, he had better get back to the job in hand.
"Okay, okay ... enough about your sex-lives. I don’t think I wanna know." He took a deep breath to steady his nerves – he didn’t really want to go after this baboon. He would have been far happier shooting the sonofabitch to smithereens, but Cunningham wanted the critter alive and well, so that was that. "Right. Let’s get going – the sooner today’s over and done with the better."
With Irwin and Pieter following him out of the weapons room, he limped out into the bright sunshine where the team was waiting.
****************
As the convoy of jeeps and trucks made its way slowly up into the hilly country behind the compound, Frank Brodie tried to squash the bad feeling in his gut. His leg ached, his chest ached and he desperately wanted a drink. He thought he had his need under control, but just lately … but then he thought about Tara and Katy and the gnawing emptiness in his belly receded a little.
Don’t blow it, you asshole. Not now.
He swallowed noisily and looked over at Robin who was driving the jeep. Brodie was finding it increasingly more difficult to drive. All of the vehicles were ex-Australian Army issue with manual gears, and the constant shifting in low gears was beginning to cause problems with his game leg. Tara had tried to help with gentle physiotherapy but it was becoming clear to both of them that Brodie would soon be unable to drive unless the vehicle was an automatic shift. He grimaced bitterly.
Just one more fuckin’ nail in my coffin …
He saw the soft smile on Robin’s face, the young man’s doe-brown eyes alive with excitement.
"How old are you, Robin?" Brodie shouted over the noise of the vehicle, wincing as the jeep bounced over a rut.
Robin MacCleod grinned like a loon, his youthful face lighting up.
"Twenty-four," he said, his lilting accent with its slightly sibilant consonants bubbling with pleasure. The young man was clearly having the time of his life.
"How the hell did you end up here?" Brodie asked. He didn’t know much about his team’s background – he had left the security checks to Irwin, and had taken his team very much as he had found them, trusting his gut instinct.
Robin steered sharply left to avoid a pothole in the still-unsurfaced track and tooled the jeep down a gear.
"My Da died at the fishin’ when I was a bairn, and Ma had six of us to feed. I wasn’t much of a scholar so I went into the army when I was sixteen. The cailleach was glad of the money too, poor aul’ lass. I finished my hitch and got offered a job in Africa with Pieter, and well … I just took it from there."
Brodie grabbed hold of the door as the jeep lurched slightly. Twenty-four. Hell, he couldn’t even remember what it was like to be twenty-four. He had been too busy fighting a guerrilla war in the wilds of Angola as a mercenary, and the foulness of that little conflict had not left much time to enjoy life. Come to think of it, he decided, he seemed to have spent his whole life fighting somebody. He had thought that working here on the island would have been different … but no. Here he was, looking towards more bloodshed and danger. Damn Sonny Esposito. Damn the fucker all to hell.
He slid the big Colt from its holster for the umpteenth time that morning and checked the load. Satisfied, he slid the heavy revolver back into its holster and checked his knife. Yup. Sharp as hell and fit to gut a gorilla … or a baboon, he thought. His pump-action shotgun was on the gun rack behind his head, and his stick was tucked in beside his leg. He was as ready as he could ever be, and just let that big, goddamn ape just look at him funny and he’d blow the bastard to hell and back –
"We’re here, chief!"
Robin’s shouted words broke into Brodie’s subconscious as the jeep slowed, then juddered to a halt at the side of the road.
Brodie realised the palms of his hands were clammy with sweat, and he wiped them surreptitiously on his pants leg. He was as scared as hell, but he was damned if he was going to let anybody know it. He had a job to do, and come hell or high water he’d damn well do it or die trying – nope, he decided. Not quite the right words, but right at that moment he was too jittery to think of anything else.
The truck carrying the cage pulled in behind them, and the jeep with Pieter and Zelle passed the truck and slowed to a halt beside Brodie and Robin. Zelle stood up in the passenger seat and waved at the grassy vista before them, the trees beginning to encroach on the grassland ahead.
"That’s where we saw him. If we set the cage just amongst the grass at the side of the road, he’ll be far enough away from the shelter of the trees to stop him with the trank gun before he can reach shelter. But we’re to only use that as a last resort, Brodie, so don’t get trigger-happy." Zelle said, her dark gaze fixed on Brodie’s grim features.
"Zelle, you know the only way I’ll be shootin’ that sonofabitch is with a forty-four, okay?" He said wearily. Zelle knew how much he was hating this and in a way understood his reasons. But she had a job to do, and in her heart of hearts she realised Brodie would back her up – but she also knew that if anything … anything … went wrong, Brodie would shoot the baboon without a second’s thought on the matter.
Nodding, she motioned at the truck behind her and Pieter drove the jeep along the road slowly, so Zelle could pick her place. That done, she guided the truck to the designated spot. Behind the truck came jeeps carrying most of the team and Dervla Monaghan, along to make sure any injuries were treated on the spot in this humid semi-tropical weather. Brodie thought of the sudden disappointment in Monaghan’s mobile face when he had given her the message from Irwin, but her eyes had lit up seconds later.
"Well then." She had said, a twinkle in her eyes, "I’ll just have to take dinner to him, won’t I?"
Brodie sighed. Poor Anal Retentive Irwin. Looks like he’s a lost cause.
He levered his protesting body out of the jeep, gathered up his shotgun and stick, and limped off to supervise the manhandling of the cage off the truck.
*****************
The waiting was becoming interminable. As Brodie sat with Zelle Smith and Robin in a secluded hollow amongst trees above the road, he shifted with pain. He had stared at the partially hidden cage below until his eyes ached, and then he spent most of his time constantly scanning the waving grass and tree-line beyond. Nothing. Not a goddamn thing, and he had been sitting here on a mossy, damp rock for hours.
Below him on the road nothing moved. They were all of two hundred yards away, but it could have been a light-year away for all it mattered. Brodie could not run down the incline to help his team if they got into trouble – all he could do was lend support from his vantage point and hope for the best.
The cage had been set among the grass at the side of the road, as Zelle had requested, and then the team had spread out upwind of the cage, trying not to alarm the baboon if he was in the immediate vicinity. Baboons in a family pack were creatures of habit, revisiting favoured places at certain times of the day. but perhaps the old baboon, now living a solitary life after the demise of the rest of his kind, had become wary and disorientated. Inside the cage was a bowl of tasty, over-ripe bananas, mangoes and breadfruit, chosen by Zelle as both appetisingly aromatic and strong-flavoured. The old animal would find it easy to chew and swallow, and there was enough in the cage to keep him occupied for several minutes, hopefully giving Logan enough time to spring the trap.
Zelle Smith sat beside him, and Brodie studied the keen lines of her features. She was in her element now, he realised, and he also decided he had misjudged her. A dedicated, fiercely independent woman, who would die rather than allow the human race wipe out creatures she cared deeply about. He could see why Pieter van Guelder has fallen for her, hook, line and sinker – the big South African was a man of passion himself, and Zelle’s passion for life and living oozed from ever beautiful pore of her. Frank Brodie had to admit to himself he liked Doctor Gazelle Smith a great deal. She would make the success of the island and its rare creatures her life’s work, he could see that now, and Pieter van Guelder would be beside her every inch of the way. Perhaps … he thought idly, perhaps they don’t need me any more … maybe I should take Tara and Katy and go. He pondered the idea for a few minutes, as the drip, drip, drip of water trickled humidly from overhanging foliage. They could go out to Africa or someplace – Katy would love that. But even as he thought it he dismissed the idea. Katy wouldn’t be safe anywhere, not until Sonny Esposito was dealt with. The man had more money that Brodie’s wildest dreams could envisage, and a deadly ruthlessness that terrified him because of its threat to Tara and Katy. His belly was swept with nausea.
Goddamn it all to hell! I need a drink … Jesus, I need a drink so bad …
"Brodie!" Zelled hissed and clutched his arm.
Brought from his reverie with a lurch Brodie blinked and adjusted his gaze, looking down to the road now sweltering in a mid-morning, drenching heat.
At first he could see nothing and thought Zelle had been seeing things, but then a familiar, brown shape began to materialise from the long, still grass. His breath caught in his throat.
The old baboon sauntered onto the track and sat down, scratching idly. He was bigger than Brodie remembered the original test baboons to be, but he noticed the gleam of the steel electrical implant in the animal’s skull. A chill went down Brodie’s spine.
"Look at him ..." Zelle whispered in amazement. "Isn’t he beautiful?"
Brodie stared at her in amazement and thought she was crazy. Beautiful? Didn’t she realise what this huge old sonofabitch could do?? If one person put a foot wrong during this whole stupid escapade the goddamn fuckin’ thing would tear them apart like rag dolls. But he held his tongue and pushed his concern away as Zelle leaned forward, watching the big primate intently.
"Go on," she muttered, "That’s it ... go take a look ..."
Stopping in mid-scratch, the baboon suddenly noticed the cage. It sat for a long moment, studying the contraption and cocking its dog-like head to one side as if in puzzlement. Yawning, its lips pulling back over gums almost bare of teeth, the baboon heaved itself up onto all fours and wandered over to the cage. It showed absolutely no sign of fear, only stopping as it reached the entrance, peering curiously through the space at the bowl of fruit sitting at the far end of the cage.
Brodie could see Logan away to his left, waiting, poised over the switch on the small control box that would send the door clanging down and safely trapping the huge baboon in the cage ... if the animal took the plunge and entered the confined space.
Zelle was in an agony of impatience. The cage was open-sided, consisting only of heavy barred sides and roof, and the baboon should feel no sense of being trapped in such a space. She watched with fretful annoyance as the baboon walked around the cage, at one point sitting down and trying to insinuate long fingers through the bars to snag the tempting fruit. But he soon gave up that idea and worked his way back to the open end of the cage and sat down again, making small grunts of appreciation at the overpowering, sweet aroma of the bananas and mangoes. He sat there for what seemed like hours to the waiting humans, as he rocked back on his rump and groomed his long, tuft-ended tail and the greying fur of his hindquarters. But soon he became bored with grooming – the tantalising scent of the fruit was too much. Hooting softly to himself he stood up and hesitantly stuck his head into the cage.
"Yes!" Zelle hissed almost silently, as Brodie eased himself to his feet to watch more closely. "Any second ... easy, fella ... easy now ..."she crooned softly, willing the powerful big primate into the cage.
It was as if the beast heard her. Slowly but surely, he eased his huge body into the cage, his agile fingers reaching out to grasp a particularly succulent chunk of mango. Jamming the fruit in his mouth he manoeuvred his weighty body further into the cage, totally engrossed in the food, and tried to shift his hindquarters further in so he could sit down and eat the fruit at his leisure.
"Now!" Zelle growled, expecting the door to slide downwards and slam shut … but nothing happened. She swore under her breath. Their luck was holding … but why the hell wasn’t Logan pressing the goddamn button to close the trap???
The silence was broken by a sudden yelp of terror and a gunshot, and all hell broke loose.
Startled, the baboon dropped its mouthful of banana and hurtled out of the cage, obviously frightened.
"Shit!!" Brodie slid the big Colt revolver out of his belt and swore again as Zelle Smith burst from their hiding place and began to run down the hill towards the cage. Brodie limped after her at a hopping run, alternately cursing the woman’s lack of common sense and his own disability.
But miraculously the old baboon did not run. He backed up against the cage, gums bared in fright, but he seemed reluctant to move away from the cage. He screamed now in fear, but even when Pieter van Guelder broke cover and raised the tranq gun, the animal just stayed close to the cage, the heavy ruff around his neck bristling as he reacted to the threat of the humans now emerging from their hiding places.
"Hey!!" Zelle yelled, trying to attract the baboon’s attention, and the animal swung around to meet this new threat. His muscular hindquarters presented themselves squarely to Pieter. The ‘phutt!!!’ of the dart gun went almost unheard in the furore.
The baboon let out a yarring cry of pain as the orange-tufted dart slammed into its right thigh, the pressure depressing the plunger, driving the full dose of Ketamine anaesthesia into the muscle tissue.
"Got ‘im!" yelled Robin, the young ex-soldier punching his fist in the air in triumph.
The baboon decided finally that he had had enough. Twisting his huge body around with a speed that left Zelle gasping, he took in the humans now almost surrounding him. His only avenue of escape that he could see was up the hill and into the trees, past the human female now yelling wildly in delight.
He ran.
His grey-brown hair shimmering in the humid temperatures he ignored the dart still hanging from his thigh and pelted up the hill towards Zelle, the woman stumbling to a halt as she realised what the beast was doing. His speed was terrifying, and she had not a hope in hell of getting out of his way.
Pieter van Guelder felt his blood run cold. Zelle was in danger …. Terrible danger, and his elation at darting the old baboon suddenly turned to sheer, unadulterated terror as he knew he had no chance of being able to save her. And he knew then that he loved her with a deep, frightening clarity that swamped him so completely that he felt his knees give way and he almost fell.
But he took a deep, shaky breath as Frank Brodie stepped out from behind a tree, gun raised, his blue eyes clear and hand steady. Brodie … he would save her!
Frank Brodie watched the whole scene unfold before him as though in slow motion … the yelp of pain from the undergrowth … the fear of the baboon … Zelle’s wild, careening run down the incline … the ‘thump’ of the dart in the baboon’s muscle tissue. He saw the animal take fright and run towards Zelle … towards him.
He caught the wild fear in its eyes … one of which, he noticed, was blue, like the beast he had killed in the final showdown in the compound. Perhaps this creature was one of its antecedents. He thumbed back the hammer of the Colt and lifted it to aim at the baboon as it barrelled towards him, but Zelle turned in mid-run and he noticed her dark eyes widen with fear as she saw Brodie aim the Colt.
"Nooooo!!!!" She yelled, even as the terrified beast was almost upon her.
Brodie felt strangely calm. His blood roared in his ears and he was sure he had stopped breathing, and the scene before him appeared to be so slow he discovered he could take time to study what was happening. Zelle threw up a hand partly in defence as the baboon reached her and partly to desperately signal to Brodie not to fire.
Down by the cage Pieter van Guelder was flinging the dart gun to one side and drawing his Ruger, and the rest of the team were slowly it seemed, as though moving in treacle, converging on the baboon as it made its way up the hill in ever-diminishing strides.
"Shoot, Brodie!" Pieter screamed, "SHOOT!!"
But the baboon reached Zelle before he could thumb back the hammer.
The beast never touched her.
It passed by her in a blur of grey-brown, gums bared in terror, but it ignored her completely. Brodie realised it was heading straight for him.
He stood stock still, the Colt aimed at the creature as it came nearer and nearer, and Brodie frowned. The animal’s strides were beginning to falter, and it slowed to a rolling, staggering lope, head beginning to hang and mouth gaping as it began to pant. But still Brodie did not move. The Colt sat snugly in the grip of his big hand and he stood braced against the tree, bad leg supported and gaze steady and calm.
But van Guelder could not understand why the hell Brodie didn’t blast the fucking beast to blazes.
"BRODIE!!!! SHOOT IT!!"
Zelle dived sideways as the baboon staggered past and turned, nearly falling over in the process as she attempted to keep on her feet.
"Don’t hurt him!!" she yelled, arms waving desperately, "He’s going down!!! Look at him! The dart worked!!!!"
But it seemed as though Brodie did not hear any of them as he stood, gazing at the staggering primate. He was as still as a statue and Zelle was astounded at his courage as Brodie seemingly waited for the animal to reach him.
Brodie watched dispassionately as the baboon roared its fear as it made one last attempt to escape, its legs buckling under it even as it leaped forward, so close to Brodie it seemed as though the big man would be crushed as the baboon stumbled, its hind legs catching in the undergrowth. Its five-hundred-pound weight turned the stumble into a wild, uncontrolled somersault and the animal yarred drunkenly one last time and slid into a sprawling, ungainly heap at Frank Brodie’s feet, sending a shower of dank leaves and loam into the air.
For long seconds there was silence.
Frank Brodie blinked.
Then the air was filled with hoots and shouts of triumph as the team realised the big baboon was lying in a drugged haze inches from Brodie’s boots.
Zelle was beside him in a moment, dropping to the ground to check the baboon’s pulse and condition, and she turned brown eyes upwards as Pieter van Guelder dropped to his knees beside her.
"He’s all right!" she said, grinning as though it was Christmas and Thanksgiving all rolled into one. "His pulse is strong and respiration is okay." She leaned forward and kissed Pieter van Guelder full on the lips in front of the whole team, the big South African returning the kiss passionately.
Brodie lowered his gun, sliding it back into his holster and taking in the scenes of jubilation before him. He took a deep breath. They had done it – the baboon was theirs.
"All right, children," he said shakily, "let’s get this big sonofabitch into the cage and back to the compound." As he saw team members come forward to help lift the beast, he turned to a sheepish-looking Logan, the man standing a little apart from the rest with his hand behind his back.
"Are you gonna tell me just what the hell happened here?" he said, scowling at the little ex-mercenary.
"Aw, Chief, I’m sorry! but I had a little bit of a problem, y’see …"
Brodie crossed his arms and frowned.
"What kind of problem? This had better be good - "
Logan brought his hand out from behind his back and held up a dead snake.
"Jeez!" Brodie said. It was a Western Coral snake, all yellow and red bands. Very beautiful … and very, very deadly. "Shit – I can’t argue with that. You okay?" He continued, aware that he felt even less steady on his feet than he had a few minutes ago when the baboon was charging him.
"Yeah Chief, I’m fine, But the bugger fell on me out of a tree – frightened the crap out of me!"
Brodie nodded, and turned away, gazing into the deeply-shadowed trees. He took a few deep breaths to steady his nerves, but it didn’t help. He knew now he had a real problem, and that problem was not just Sonny Esposito.
As the baboon had raced towards him he had raised the Colt, ready to blast the goddamn freaky animal to hell and back, but he had not done so. He had frozen. Fear had overwhelmed him so badly that he could no more have pulled the trigger than flown to the moon. Never in his life had he felt such terror. The animal had frightened the unholy crap out of him … and he had frozen to the spot so completely that the baboon could have disembowelled him on the spot and he would not have made any attempt to stop it. He had willed his finger to pull the trigger … but he could not move.
Wiping a shaky hand over his face, Frank Brodie trembled, and if he had been alone he would have emptied the contents of his stomach all over the undergrowth.
He was terrified.
And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.