Ted Bell - Spy

It was bones.

43

MADRE DE DIOS, BRAZIL

C an it see us?” Saladin said from the bushes. Harry and Hassan were hiding, watching the battle robot’s steady approach across the bridge.

“God, I hope not. Stay the fuck down,” Harry said, trying to make himself invisible. “Stop moving around! It’s looking for movement!”

“I’m looking for Caparina, damn you,” Saladin said, reluctantly crouching down.

“Right. If she made it across and is still alive, we’ll get her out. How’s the leg?”

“Hurts like hell.”

“Bullets are painful things.”

The approaching Troll was nearing the end of the bridge. Having no targets, it had stopped firing. Harry studied the tall, hooded periscope camera, whipping back and forth, looking for something to kill. Something distinctly alien about this machine, Harry thought. Spooky. It reminded him of the creatures in War of the Worlds. The way they chased fleeing humans around the countryside.

“Let the damn tank roll right by us,” Harry said, “On the count of three, you run jump up on the rear.”

“That tank’s going the wrong way, Harry.”

“Trust me. Here it comes.”

The one-eyed Troll rumbled closer, ten feet away now.

“Wait until it goes by you, goddamnit! Ready? Okay, here we go. One…two…three! Go, go, go!”

Saladin took three or four long strides, grabbed one of the grab-rails, and scrambled aboard.

“You have a plan, Harry?” Saladin said.

“Let me get out in front of the bastard, okay? Let the evil eye see me. Good peripheral vision on this little shit. As soon as the camera starts to swivel, and lock on me, cup your hand over the lens.”

“We’re going the wrong way,” Saladin reminded Harry as he ran along beside the tank. The thing was still moving at five miles an hour, in search mode, so it was easy for him to keep up the pace. Dodging plant life was the tough part.

“We’ll improvise,” Harry said, grinning.

“Meaning?”

“I think it’ll stop when it can’t see,” Harry said, not even breathing hard, pulling dead even with Saladin.

“What makes you think that?”

“What else is it going to do?”

“Good point.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“What if it can hear us?”

“Little late for that thought, buddy!”

Harry was pretty sure whoever was controlling this thing back at the ranch couldn’t hear what was going on aboard the tank or anywhere else. The technology was advanced, but not that advanced. Harry figured, if the thing could hear? They’d be dead.

He gave Saladin the thumbs-up, then sprinted out ahead. On the tank, Saladin got ready. He pulled himself up and forward enough to be able to reach up and cover the lens with his hand.

“Ready?” Harry said, over his shoulder. He was way out in front now, weaving back and forth on the muddy trail.

“Okay,” Saladin shouted, hand poised near the lens. “I’m ready to do this if you are.”

Harry checked up suddenly on the right side of the trail. Both men waited for the lens to start its slow arc back towards where he waited.

The guns started spitting lead about a half-second before the lens got to him. Good information, Harry thought. It meant the fish-eye lens had even wider peripheral vision than Harry thought. Helpful to know.

The firing continued, but Harry had already ducked and started moving in a right-to-left direction as the lens and synchronized guns swept over and past him moving left to right. Bullets were chewing up the thick vegetation on the right, turning it to smoking shreds. Harry dove into the underbrush on the opposite side of the trail just as Saladin wrapped a big hand around the lens, temporarily blinding the robot.

The twin guns ceased fire immediately, just as Harry had anticipated or at least prayed they would. But the tank kept creeping ahead.

“It’s not going to stop, Harry,” Saladin said as the Troll rumbled past Brock. He was getting to his feet and smiling.

He said, “It will.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Should stop any second.”

“Yes, well—”

The robot suddenly ground to a halt, forward progress causing it to slip and slide, the treads smothered in thick brown mud.

“What next?” Saladin said.

“Blindman’s Bluff. You keep the lens covered till I say ‘Ready.’ I’m going to start moving slowly back toward the bridge. I’ll start a count aloud down from twenty, go about twenty yards and do a face plant. When I get to ‘five,’ you take your hand off. The camera will do a recon. Probably a full rotation before the tank starts after me. Then I’ll say ‘ready’ again and pop up in the middle of the trail for it to find me again.”

“I think this machine is omnidirectional.”

“Meaning it goes both ways? Speak for yourself.”

“Are all American spies as crazy as you?”

“Who said I was a spy?”

“Christ, Harry. Trolls do go both ways. They simply reverse the tread direction. Ready?”

“Go.”

“Twenty…nineteen…eighteen…seventeen…” Harry said, picking and groping his way through the vegetation, headed back to the bridge.

“Five!” Harry said. He dropped on his belly and disappeared in the undergrowth.

Saladin took his hand off the lens. The periscope tube started its rotation above his head.

“Ready!” Harry cried, and Saladin saw Brock now standing in the middle of the trail about a hundred yards before the bridge. Without the slightest hesitation, the Troll simply reversed its treads and started moving back toward Harry and the bridge.

“Watch out!” Saladin yelled.

A second later the lens found Harry. The machine guns opened up half a tick later, kicking up clods of black earth. Harry faked left and crouched, then made a hard move right and stood upright again. The lens paused and instantly swung again toward Harry, who repeated his faking maneuver, this time faking right but moving to his left to add confusion. Harry took some pleasure in how crazy he must be driving this guy at the controls.

The idea seemed to be working, much to Saladin’s amazement. Harry didn’t get hit and the tank kept heading back down the trail ever closer to the bridge.

When Harry got to the foot of the bridge, he stopped and turned around to face the oncoming tank.

“You want me to blind it now?” Saladin cried, watching the camera swing around toward where Harry stood.

“Wait! Not until the instant he locks me up.”

“You’ll get shot!”

“I have a plan for that,” Harry said. He didn’t need to shout anymore because the Troll was getting so damn close. The lens was coming around, Harry could see it easily now, another fifteen degrees ought to put him in camera range.

“Say when,” Saladin said nervously, his hand hovering over the bug-eye.

The tank was maybe ten feet from Harry, who stood with one foot on the bridge. The Troll’s beanstalk camera and the silent guns were swinging toward him. Harry stood stock still, smiling at Saladin. If Brock was nervous, Hassan thought, he was doing a very good job of hiding it.

Five feet to go and Harry was still alive and on his feet. The lens was almost on him. It had to be.

Four feet.

Three.

“Now!” Harry said, and Saladin clamped his hand down over the bug-eye.

“Get out of the bloody way!” Saladin said. The Troll was about to run Harry down.

“Clear the lens!” Harry said.

In the same instant that Saladin removed his hand, Harry smiled into the camera, then dove headfirst to the ground, directly in the path of the oncoming tank.

“Harry!” Saladin shouted. But Harry was gone, disappearing beneath the tank.

Face buried in muck, Harry had no choice but to hold his breath as the Troll rolled over him. He flattened himself, arms clenched at his sides, the clanking treads missing him by less than a foot on either side. The width was okay, but the ground clearance underneath? A low-slung oil sump or protrusions he hadn’t counted on? Shit. He closed his eyes and waited. It was only a few seconds. But time is so relative when a tank is passing over your head.