his face was strained. ‘It’s difficult, isn’t it? You see, I’m not much of a fighter. Then again, it’s a question of the odds – can we win? I don’t see much reason in putting up a fight if we’re certain of losing – and I don’t see any chance at all of our winning out.’ He paused, then said hesitantly, ‘But I’ll go with the majority vote.’
Willis, you bastard, you’re a fine example of a fencesitter, thought O’Hara.
‘Peabody?’ Forester’s voice cut like a lash.
‘What the hell has this got to do with us?’ exploded Peabody. ‘I’m damned if I’m going to risk my life for any wop politician. I say hand the bastard over and let’s get the hell out of here.’
‘What do you say, Miss Ponsky?’
She gave Peabody a look of scorn, then hesitated. All the talk seemed to be knocked out of her, leaving her curiously deflated. At last she said in a small voice, ‘I know I’m only a woman and I can’t do much in the way of fighting, and I’m scared to death – but I think we ought to fight.’ She ended in a rush and looked defiantly at Peabody. ‘And that’s my vote.’
Good for you, Miss Ponsky, cheered O’Hara silently. That’s three to fight. It’s now up to Armstrong – he can tip it for fighting or make a deadlock, depending on his vote.
‘Doctor Armstrong, what do you have to say?’ queried Forester.
Armstrong sucked on his pipe and it made an obscene noise. ‘I suppose I’m more an authority on this kind of situation than anyone present,’ he observed. ‘With the possible exception of Señor Aguillar, who at present is cooking our lunch, I see. Give me a couple of hours and I could quote a hundred parallel examples drawn from history.’
Peabody muttered in exasperation, ‘What the hell!’
‘The question at issue is whether to hand Señor Aguillar to the gentlemen on the other side of the river. The important point, as I see it affecting us, is what would they do with him? And I can’t really see that there is anything they can do with him other than kill him. Keeping high-standing politicians as prisoners went out of fashion a long time ago. Now, if they kill him they will automatically be forced to kill us. They would not dare take the risk of letting this story loose upon the world. They would be most painfully criticized, perhaps to the point of losing what they have set out to gain. In short, the people of Cordillera would not stand for it. So you see, we are not fighting for the life of Señor Aguillar; we are fighting for our own lives.’
He put his pipe back into his mouth and made another rude noise.
‘Does that mean that you are in favour of fighting?’ asked Forester.
‘Of course,’ said Armstrong in surprise. ‘Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying?’
Peabody looked at him in horror. ‘Jesus!’ he said. ‘What have I got myself into?’ He buried his head in his hands.
Forester grinned at O’Hara, and said, ‘Well, Doctor Willis?’
‘I fight,’ said Willis briefly.
O’Hara chuckled. One academic man had convinced another.
Forester said, ‘Ready to change your mind, Peabody?’
Peabody looked up. ‘You really think they’re going to rub us all out?’
‘If they kill Aguillar I don’t see what else they can do,’ said Armstrong reasonably. ‘And they will kill Aguillar, you know.’
‘Oh, hell,’ said Peabody in an anguish of indecision.
‘Come on,’ Forester ordered harshly. ‘Put up or shut up.’
‘I guess I’ll have to throw in with you,’ Peabody said morosely.
‘That’s it, then,’ said Forester. ‘A unanimous vote. I’ll tell Aguillar and we’ll discuss how to fight over some food.’ Miss Ponsky went to help the Aguillars with their cooking and O’Hara went back to the river to see what Rohde was doing. He looked back and saw that Armstrong was talking to Willis and again drawing on the ground with a stick. Willis looked interested.
Rohde had chosen a better place for observation and at first O’Hara could not find him. At last he saw the sole of a boot protruding from behind a rock and joined Rohde, who seemed pleased. ‘They have not yet come out of their holes,’ he said. ‘It has been an hour. One bullet that missed has held them up for an hour.’
‘That’s great,’ said O’Hara sardonically. ‘Ten bullets – ten hours.’
‘It is better than that,’ protested Rohde. ‘They have thirty planks to put in – that would take them fifteen hours without my bullets. With the shooting it will take them twenty-five hours. They will not work at night – so that is two full days.’
O’Hara nodded. ‘It gives us time to decide what to do next,’ he admitted. But when the bullets were finished and the bridge completed a score of armed and ruthless men would come boiling over the river. It would be a slaughter.
‘I will stay here,’ said Rohde. ‘Send some food when it is ready.’ He nodded towards the bridge. ‘It takes a brave man to walk on that, knowing that someone will shoot at him. I do not think these men are very brave – maybe it will be more than one hour to a bullet.’
O’Hara went back and told Forester what was happening and Forester grimaced. ‘Two days – maybe – two days to come up with something. But with what?’
O’Hara said, ‘I think a Committee of Ways and Means is indicated.’
They all sat in a circle on the sparse grass and Benedetta and Miss Ponsky served the food on the aluminium plates they had found at the camp. Forester said, ‘This is a war council, so please stick to the point and let’s have no idle chit-chat – we’ve no time to waste. Any sensible suggestions will be welcome.’
There was a dead silence, then Miss Ponsky said, ‘I suppose the main problem is to stop them repairing the bridge. Well, couldn’t we do something at this end – cut the ropes or something?’
‘That’s good in principle,’ said Forester. ‘Any objections to it?’ He glanced at O’Hara, knowing what he would say.
O’Hara looked at Forester sourly; it seemed as though he was being cast as the cold-water expert and he did not fancy the role. He said deliberately, ‘The approaches to the bridge from this side are wide open; there’s no cover for at least a hundred yards – you saw what happened to Benedetta and me this morning. Anyone who tried to get to the bridge along the road would be cut down before he’d got halfway. It’s point blank range, you know – they don’t have to be crack shots.’ He paused. ‘Now I know it’s the only way we can get at the bridge, but it seems impossible to me.’
‘What about a night attack?’ asked Willis.
‘That sounds good,’ said Forester.
O’Hara hated to do it, but he spoke up. ‘I don’t want to sound pessimistic, but I don’t think those chaps over there are entirely stupid. They’ve got two
