Desmond Bagley - High Citadel / Landslide

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 trucks and four jeeps, maybe more, and those vehicles have at least two headlights apiece. They’ll keep the bridge well lit during the dark hours.’

There was silence again.

Armstrong cleared his throat. ‘Willis and I have been doing a little thinking and maybe we have something that will help. Again I find myself in the position of being something of an expert. You know that my work is the study of medieval history, but it so happens that I’m a specialist, and my speciality is medieval warfare. The position as I see it is that we are in a castle with a moat and a drawbridge. The drawbridge is fortuitously pulled up, but our enemies are trying to rectify that state of affairs. Our job is to stop them.’

‘With what?’ asked O’Hara. ‘A push of a pike?’

‘I wouldn’t despise medieval weapons too much, O’Hara,’ said Armstrong mildly. ‘I admit that the people of those days weren’t as adept in the art of slaughter as we are, but still, they managed to kill each other off at a satisfactory rate. Now, Rohde’s pistol is highly inaccurate at the range he is forced to use. What we want is a more efficient missile weapon than Rohde’s pistol.’

‘So we all make like Robin Hood,’ said Peabody derisively. ‘With the jolly old longbow, what? For Christ’s sake, Professor!’

‘Oh, no,’ said Armstrong. ‘A longbow is very chancy in the hands of a novice. It takes five years at least to train a good bowman.’

‘I can use the bow,’ said Miss Ponsky unexpectedly. Everyone looked at her and she coloured. ‘I’m president of the South Bridge Ladies’ Greenwood Club. Last year I won our own little championship in the Hereford Round.’

‘That’s interesting,’ said Armstrong.

O’Hara said, ‘Can you use a longbow lying down, Miss Ponsky?’

‘It would be difficult,’ she said. ‘Perhaps impossible.’

O’Hara jerked his head at the gorge. ‘You stand up there with a longbow and you’ll get filled full of holes.’

She bridled. ‘I think you’d do better helping than pouring cold water on all our ideas, Mr O’Hara.’

‘I’ve got to do it,’ said O’Hara evenly. ‘I don’t want anyone killed uselessly.’

‘For God’s sake,’ exclaimed Willis. ‘How did a longbow come into this? That’s out – we can’t make one; we haven’t the material. Now, will you listen to Armstrong; he has a point to make.’ His voice was unexpectedly firm.

The flat crack of Rohde’s pistol echoed on the afternoon air and there was the answering fire of shots from the other side of the gorge. Peabody ducked and O’Hara looked at his watch. It had been an hour and twenty minutes – and they had nine bullets left.