Defender(53)

"From his file photo back at Chiltonford," Morgan lied. "What the hell is he up to? I thought he was dead."

"I've never trusted that guy, but this is too much." Garrett was clearly stunned. "That's a rebel officer he's with. No doubt about it. And the two of them seem pretty cosy."

Alex Morgan's eyes were glued to the binoculars, fixated on the little yellow building tucked away at the end of the street, far from the fighting. Morgan squinted. Was this the confirmation he'd been waiting for? Then he saw a black satchel changing hands and Lundt in close conversation with the rebel officer. Morgan's eyes grew hot with anger. He could scarcely believe what he was witnessing. But it was also the ultimate breakthrough in the final moments of his mission. Morgan was conscious that his responsibilities to INTREPID had, by necessity, been put on hold. But he couldn't let himself be distracted any more.

"Adam, no matter what happens, I need you and Mike to get in that Rover, find Martinez and the others, and get them back to the beach. If they get cut off, they'll be dead for sure." Morgan was adamant.

"What do you mean by me and Mike?" Garrett demanded. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

'I'm going after Lundt. I can't explain right now. But you have my word that I will later," said Morgan.

"Bullshit," replied Garrett. "You're not going alone. If you're going, I'm coming with you. That bastard's been selling us all out."

"No!" said Morgan emphatically. "You and Mike have to go with the others. Ifthey get caught, they'll be slaughtered. Without you and Mike, they won't have a chance."

"But..." Garrett couldn't argue. He knew Morgan was right.

"Ad, get going. If I'm not back at the RV within 30 minutes of you, then don't hang around. Get on whichever CH-53 you can and get the hell out. I'll take care of myself. Good luck!"

Before he could protest, Garrett watched as Morgan sprinted out from behind the cover of the burning truck, straight for Lundt.





CHAPTER 33





"I'd like to say it's been a pleasure doing business with you, Captain," Victor Lundt announced with blatant disregard. "But time is against me. If I don't get myself out of this shithole of a country of yours, I'll be screwed for good."

"Colonel Baptiste would like you to stay on," replied the rebel officer, oblivious to the insult as he handed Lundt a fist-sized sack full of uncut diamonds, a piano key smile splitting his face in two.

'I'm sure you're wrong about that, sonny. Anyway, I haven't seen your fearless leader out here since the shooting started," said Lundt, accepting the bundle, fingering through the brown, colourless, and pink crystals. Then he dropped the sack, a small fortune, carelessly into a black carryall that sat on the bonnet of the old jeep. The Captain remained silent. "You can tell the great Baptiste that I can do a lot more for him from abroad than I can stuck here in Cullentown. I have other matters to attend to. You'll know where to find me. I'll make sure of that."

Distracted for a moment, Lundt looked over the rebel Captain's shoulder, back out into the street where the fighting had come to a standstill. He didn't like it. The unexpected lull sounded like a stalemate, the last thing he needed. Baptiste's rebels had to maintain the momentum if they were to quash the Government's Army - what was left of it. For Lundt personally, he needed the distraction of the fighting to mask his departure. There were suddenly too many new faces in Malfajiri, especially the latest two from London; their arrival was no coincidence. He could feel the spectre of unwelcome scrutiny hanging over him. Self-consciously he scratched an agitated hand through his thick hair, matted with salt and the dust of shattered concrete. He felt the heat, and was sweating profusely. The smoke haze across the city had held the full force of the sun at bay throughout the afternoon, but the humidity was oppressive.

"It looks like your boys might be stuck," he said, pointing out into the street. "There. The Government troops are reinforcing positions behind those vehicle hulks. Behind that sort of cover, they'll be hard to budge with small arms. Your men will get bogged down." Lundt moved over to where the windows had once been and, crouching behind the remnants of a wall, scoured the scene with an experienced eye. "You can't lose momentum at the height of battle," he said, almost to himself. "You lose ground and men lose confidence and the will to fight; especially if you start taking heavy casualties. Then the bastards will be all over you."

"What should I do?" The rebel officer was beside him, looking blankly back and forth between the Government soldiers, his own rebel troops, and Lundt.