he said. "I spoke out too soon, before my friends were prepared to act. I was responsible for getting us all locked up in the compound and sentenced to die at noon today."
Somehow, I wasn't surprised. But I dropped the issue then. I fished out the chain and locket again and told him to read the note from Elicia. He did, straining in the dim light to make out the words. When he had read it, his face was part smile, part concern.
"I must thank you for saving her from that cruel fate," he said. "She is safe now, but what about my parents?"
"They refused to leave the farm. But I don't think the Cubans will bother them — they're so old and helpless, and they're blameless."
His face was a wicked scowl.
"You don't know these bastard Cubans," he said. "Their plans are long-ranging. When Don Carlos is in control, the Cubans will come in droves. They will be looking for land. Shrewd Cuban commanders are already having our old citizens killed and legally taking over their land. When others come, they will receive high prices for land taken by blood. They have every reason to kill my parents."
"And we have every reason to stop them, starting with Don Carlos."
"You make the commands," he said, smiling openly now, "and I will obey. Without question."
The boy had grown up very fast, the hard way.
But I waited another hour before we slipped out of our hiding place. We did it carefully, replacing each bush and vine we had uprooted. We had no reason to conceal the hiding place now, but I wanted that vicious colonel to think we'd slipped through his fingers by some kind of magic, or genius. I wanted him to over-estimate my powers. An enemy that over-estimates is just as vulnerable as one that under-estimates.
Three hours later, at noon, the time Antonio and his friends had been slated for execution, we were on the small ledge far below his parents' farm, where I had hidden my radio. I cranked up the batteries and tuned to the special frequency used by all AXE agents to make secret contacts from the field. As N3, the top Killmaster for AXE, a call on that frequency would clear the boards at the AXE office on DuPont Circle in Washington.
David Hawk, my boss, had never failed me. If a call came from me from the middle of the Pacific, there would be planes and/or nuclear submarines to my rescue within minutes. Once, Hawk had even commandeered a Navy aircraft carrier and all its planes to pluck me out of danger.
When I got the AXE office in Washington, I gave the coded response and asked for a direct link to David Hawk.
"Unavailable," came the terse response. "What is your message, N3?"
I tried to hide the disappointment in my voice as I described the hopelessness of assaulting Mount Toro and Alto Arete. I provided details given to me by Luis Pequeno (and confirmed by Antonio Cortez) about the thousand Marines, the backup guerillas, the broken trails, the fact that the sides of the mountain were seeded with poison-laden bits of metal. I told of Don Carlos Italla's plans for an all-out war in six days. I told of the anti-aircraft batteries operated by computers, of the minefields at the top and bottom of the mountain, of the electrified fence and the rabid guard dogs and armed monks. I told of Antonio's small group of dissidents, a few of whom had apparently escaped the ambush, and of others Antonio knew about and with whom we hoped to make contact. I told of the group coming from Apalca to meet with Don Carlos to plan Apalcan support for his revolution. Finally, I told of how Don Carlos would annihilate the peace commission trying to work out a treaty between Nicarxa and Apalca.
"And what is it you want from AXE?" the anonymous voice responded.
The way he asked the question made my insides quiver. His tone implied that no matter what I asked I wouldn't get it.
"The least I need is an airdrop of food, weapons and ammunition in a place I will designate," I said. "What I'd really like is a small detachment of Blue Light Commandos to
Somehow, I wasn't surprised. But I dropped the issue then. I fished out the chain and locket again and told him to read the note from Elicia. He did, straining in the dim light to make out the words. When he had read it, his face was part smile, part concern.
"I must thank you for saving her from that cruel fate," he said. "She is safe now, but what about my parents?"
"They refused to leave the farm. But I don't think the Cubans will bother them — they're so old and helpless, and they're blameless."
His face was a wicked scowl.
"You don't know these bastard Cubans," he said. "Their plans are long-ranging. When Don Carlos is in control, the Cubans will come in droves. They will be looking for land. Shrewd Cuban commanders are already having our old citizens killed and legally taking over their land. When others come, they will receive high prices for land taken by blood. They have every reason to kill my parents."
"And we have every reason to stop them, starting with Don Carlos."
"You make the commands," he said, smiling openly now, "and I will obey. Without question."
The boy had grown up very fast, the hard way.
But I waited another hour before we slipped out of our hiding place. We did it carefully, replacing each bush and vine we had uprooted. We had no reason to conceal the hiding place now, but I wanted that vicious colonel to think we'd slipped through his fingers by some kind of magic, or genius. I wanted him to over-estimate my powers. An enemy that over-estimates is just as vulnerable as one that under-estimates.
Three hours later, at noon, the time Antonio and his friends had been slated for execution, we were on the small ledge far below his parents' farm, where I had hidden my radio. I cranked up the batteries and tuned to the special frequency used by all AXE agents to make secret contacts from the field. As N3, the top Killmaster for AXE, a call on that frequency would clear the boards at the AXE office on DuPont Circle in Washington.
David Hawk, my boss, had never failed me. If a call came from me from the middle of the Pacific, there would be planes and/or nuclear submarines to my rescue within minutes. Once, Hawk had even commandeered a Navy aircraft carrier and all its planes to pluck me out of danger.
When I got the AXE office in Washington, I gave the coded response and asked for a direct link to David Hawk.
"Unavailable," came the terse response. "What is your message, N3?"
I tried to hide the disappointment in my voice as I described the hopelessness of assaulting Mount Toro and Alto Arete. I provided details given to me by Luis Pequeno (and confirmed by Antonio Cortez) about the thousand Marines, the backup guerillas, the broken trails, the fact that the sides of the mountain were seeded with poison-laden bits of metal. I told of Don Carlos Italla's plans for an all-out war in six days. I told of the anti-aircraft batteries operated by computers, of the minefields at the top and bottom of the mountain, of the electrified fence and the rabid guard dogs and armed monks. I told of Antonio's small group of dissidents, a few of whom had apparently escaped the ambush, and of others Antonio knew about and with whom we hoped to make contact. I told of the group coming from Apalca to meet with Don Carlos to plan Apalcan support for his revolution. Finally, I told of how Don Carlos would annihilate the peace commission trying to work out a treaty between Nicarxa and Apalca.
"And what is it you want from AXE?" the anonymous voice responded.
The way he asked the question made my insides quiver. His tone implied that no matter what I asked I wouldn't get it.
"The least I need is an airdrop of food, weapons and ammunition in a place I will designate," I said. "What I'd really like is a small detachment of Blue Light Commandos to
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