COBRA TRAP
Professor Stephen Collier ran a hand through his greying hair and mentally cursed himself for doing so since he was trying to appear unworried. "Ease up, you stupid bastard," he told himself, surreptitiously relaxing taut muscles.
Collier was sitting in the office provided for him in Government House, in the Central American Republic of Montelero. His Canadian wife, Dinah, blind since childhood, sat with him on the settee, holding his hand. She was listening partly to the distant sound of artillery fire, which at the moment she alone could hear, and partly to Willie Garvin speaking on the phone.
It was twenty-odd years since she had first heard that gravelly voice speaking to her out of the darkness. That was on a day in the Pearl Islands, when he had saved her from abduction and destroyed the two men who had murdered her sister in cold blood. She had heard that voice with huge affection on many occasions since, and was thankful to be hearing it now, especially as he was speaking to Modesty Blaise.
"It should be all right, Princess," Willie was saying, "but I'll keep this short because we could get cut off any minute. I'm with Steve and Dinah now. These rebels call themselves the Montelero Cobras and they're about ten miles from the capital, maybe less. The government's pulling out, using a three-carriage train and heading for the Panama border. Because of the work Steve's been doing for 'em these last few months we've got places on the train. If all goes well we'll be at the border sometime early tomorrow."
He paused, then spoke again. "Yes, the government lot reckon they'll be allowed in, but could you get through to Sagasta and tell 'im we're with the party? He'll see that we three don't 'ave any trouble at the border."
He listened, then smiled, looking at Dinah. "Of course I'll take good care of 'er. Look, she's worried about the children because she knows they'll be worrying, so could you get a message to Dan at the medical college? Steve says you've got the number. And tell Dan to call Sue, okay?"
After several seconds: "Sure. Leave it to Weng, and we'll reckon to see you-" He jerked the phone away from his ear, wincing at a blast of static, then listened warily again before dropping the instrument back on its cradle. "The line's down," he said. "Weng will organise letting Dan and Sue know, and Modesty's on 'er way."
Collier sat up straight. "On her way where?"
Dinah sighed. "Here, dumdum," she said, patting the hand she held. "You know what she's like."
"I do indeed," Collier agreed, "but my normally computerlike speed of thought ran into the buffers at the idea that she could be on her way here when she was speaking on the phone in Benildon."
Willie said, "John Dall's staying at the cottage with 'er for a few days, and he'll 'ave a private jet at Heathrow. I reckon it'll be airborne for Panama in a few hours."
"Billionaires have their uses," Collier said, "and John is my favourite of that ilk. What will she or they do when they get to Panama? I mean, apart from enlisting a little help from that admirable police chief." He remembered Sagasta well, for it was in Panama long years ago that Collier had first met Dinah, at a time when she was under threat from a criminal group of chilling power. Modesty had put Dinah in Collier's care while she and Willie, with Captain Sagasta's help, had fought a savage and bloody battle against the Gabriel group.
Willie said, "Sagasta's not a policeman now, he's Minister of Defence, so he'll be watching the situation 'ere with a very beady eye, and that could be useful."
Dinah said, "You mean if anything goes wrong, and this train with us on it doesn't get to the border." It was a statement rather than a question.
"That's right, love." Willie knew her quality too well to indulge in empty words of reassurance.
Dinah stood up and moved to stand close to him, feeling for his hand. "What did Modesty sound like?" she asked.
Willie exhaled a long breath, thinking. "On top of the world," he said at last. "Sort of... eager. I don't know why."
"Eager?" said Collier, frowning. "Oh, nonsense. You're going senile, Willie. She always acts like a motherhen to Dinah, and she must undoubtedly be frantic with worry about my safety, as any woman would be, so how can she sound on top of the world when we're surrounded by hordes of triggerhappy cobras?"
"There aren't hordes and we're not surrounded," said Dinah. "This is a picnic compared to that bloodandguts Mayan affair in Guatemala-"
"I know, I know," Collier broke in hastily. "Let us not dwell on our past involvements with the Blaise/Garvin axis, it's bad for my bladder."
Dinah turned sightless eyes to Willie and pressed his hand. "At least we've been spared any information about the effect on his sphincter this time."
"I'm saving that for on the train," said her husband grimly.

* * *

John Dall leaned back on the chesterfield, watching Modesty Blaise. They were in the livingroom of her cottage in Wiltshire and she was speaking on the phone, a largescale map spread on the table in front of her. Weng, her houseboy, had sent the mapsection through by fax from her penthouse in London, where many unusual items were stored.
Ten minutes earlier Dall had been on the phone himself, giving instructions to his PA. In four hours the private jet would be ready to leave Heathrow having taken on board a parcel of equipment that Weng would deliver to the airport in good time. In three hours a helicopter would land by the cottage to take Dall and Modesty to Heathrow.
It was only a short time ago that Dall had arrived, expecting to spend ten days with the woman he had loved for more than twenty years, and now he was trying not to feel frustrated. He was glad to find that at least he felt no resentment. Her friends the Colliers were in possible danger, so she would go to them, just as she would have gone to Dall in similar circumstances.
At this moment she was talking to Miguel Sagasta in Panama, a finger on the map as she spoke and listened.
"But won't Montelero object to your sending two reconnaissance aircraft over their territory? Ah... you have a point, Miguel. Do you know why their government is getting out by train rather than by air? I see. Would it be possible to monitor the train without compromising your own interests? Well, never mind, it was just a thought. What was that? Oh, thank you, I'm truly grateful, Miguel. Yes, we should be arriving about 09.00 hours your time. Hope to see you then."
She put down the phone and stood up, gazing into nothingness with unfocused eyes, arms across her waist, holding her elbows. It was a posture Dall knew of old, and he also knew that for the moment he had ceased to exist for her, but the knowledge did not trouble him. This was an aspect of Modesty Blaise, and he would not have wished her different in any way. He was well content simply to look at her, remembering, and to marvel at how lightly the years had touched her.
She would be... about fiftytwo? Impossible to be sure, for all memory of her early childhood had been wiped clean, but today her body would have passed handsomely for thirty, her face for the early forties. The legs were still those beautiful dancer's legs, and she still moved like a dream. There were more lines at the corners of the eyes now, and the jawline was perhaps less lean, but the column of her throat held firm and never failed to draw his eye. Not only his, for in memory he could hear Willie Garvin's voice as he gazed upon the mahogany carving Dall had commissioned, "I told Alex Hemmer just before he finished it. I could look at 'er throat for hours."
Now, as he sat watching her, Dall saw the far look fade from the dark blue eyes to be replaced by a momentary expression he could not define for it was so full of contradictions: urchin humour and troubled concern, hope tinged with regret, eagerness temnered by uncertainty. This was a blend Dall had never seen in her before, but in a moment it was gone as if it had never been, and she was looking at him with wry apology. "I'm sorry, Johnny. Really I am."
He smiled. "I know." The smile faded. "And I know you have to... do whatever there is to be done, but for God's sake don't let yourself get hooked again. Hooked on risk and danger. Comebacks are stupid, Modesty. You're too old, for Christ's sake!"
She laughed and came to sit beside him. "Don't worry. This old broad isn't aiming for a comeback, I promise."
"Okay. So what's the situation? All I know about Montelero is that it's about the size of Wales with a population of less than half a million. The only reason neither Panama nor Colombia have taken it over is that it's a pretty useless chunk of real estate, mainly scrub and jungle, and the residents are sort of Central American Sicilians, never happy unless they're killing one another."
She nodded. "That's more or less what Miguel said. They have no airforce or airline, and the government's being evacuated by train because they want to bring out all records and documents to set up a government in exile. They can't do that using private light aircraft even if any were available. Miguel says this lot are pretty civilised, and he thinks they'll be back in control within a year as long as they get out before the other lot cut their throats."
"So he's on their side?"
"Up to a point. He knows a bit about the rebel leaders, and they're not nice. He says one or two villages have suffered total massacre."
"How does he justify having recce aircraft over Montelero territory?"
She smiled. "He claims it's in case missions of mercy are called for. If anybody objects, he'll take note of it. I hoped he could monitor the train that Willie and Dinah and Steve will be on, but he says he couldn't get that past his government colleagues." She shrugged. "Still, he's promised to meet us when we land in Panama and he'll help in any way he can."
"Like what?"
She hesitated. "Well, he said he'd have a light aircraft available for me to hire."
" So you can go train spotting and do whatever you think needs to be done?"
"Johnny, I can't help by just sitting in Panama City."
"So how can you help?"
"I've no idea. I just have to get there and find out."
He sat remembering other times when she had gone into situations blind, relying on her skills and experience to improvise whatever action might be demanded. There had been no guarantee of a safe outcome then, there could be none now.
Dall sighed and looked at his watch. "Three hours before the chopper comes for us. Do you have things to do, or am I going to take you to the cleaners at gin rummy?"
She was silent for a few seconds. Then: "There's nothing I have to do. We've eaten, and we can eat again in flight. Weng will deliver all the gear I want to take with us, and he's fully competent to handle any and all matters for me while I'm away." She stood up, took Ball's hands and drew him to his feet. "I thought we might go to bed, Johnny."
He took her gently by the waist, his strong face with its redskin ancestry sober as he regarded her. "I didn't come here just for that."
"I know you didn't. But it would be a happy thing for us to do, wouldn't it? Unless you've given up going to bed with old broads."
John Dall laughed and gathered her into his arms, his pulse quickening as if twenty years had been wiped away.

* * *

"When I was a temple virgin in Baalbek," said Professor Stephen Collier, "in the time of Antiochus the Third, the temple priests had a rather intriguing way of testing us for virginity."
They had been on the train for several hours now, moving at a crawl, drawn by an ancient locomotive through the thin jungle that characterised the northern part of Montelero. There were twentyeight government members aboard, with three times as many relatives including some thirty children. One of the three coaches carried luggage and government files. Ten soldiers provided the armed escort, some travelling on the roofs of the coaches. Progress was slow because the single track with passing places was in a poor state of repair and there were several long steep gradients to be overcome.
Willie and the Colliers had a compartment to themselves, with their luggage. This privilege had been secured by Willie's convincing claim that the influence of his powerful friends in the Panamanian diplomatic service could well affect the reception of the refugee government at the border.
Dinah sat in a corner with her back to the engine, facing Willie, her husband beside her. It was five in the morning, and they had been dozing through the night hours. For safety the train was showing no lights, but now the darkness was turning to grey with the coming of dawn. Because the others might be sleeping, none of them had spoken for the past few hours, but now Collier had broken the silence with his dubious reminiscence of a previous life.
Dinah lifted her head from his shoulder and said, "This temple virgin persona was one of your earlier incarnations, I guess."
Collier kissed her ear. "It's the first I can remember after spending a few brief years as Ug the Caveman before being eaten by a tyrannosaurus. There may have been other appearances in between."
"I'm going to regret asking this," said Dinah, "but what was intriguing about the way the priests tested you virgins for intacta?"
"I'm glad you asked, sweetheart," said Collier. "You never know when these scraps of useful information may prove to have some practical application. Once a year we virgins were required to sit on one of those large Ali Baba sort of containers half full of the local wine. Then the high priest would smell our breath, and if he could smell the wine we were fired. I mean fired like Joan of Arc. Exvirgins flambees, as you might say."
Willie said, "How did you make out?"
"Very well," said Collier. "The girls with the largest bottoms did best, because they sealed the perimeter of the container, and so prevented alcoholic fumes escaping. I was among those so blessed."
"You'd do pretty well today, porky," said his wife. Then, to Willie, "My God, where does he get these disgusting ideas?"
Willie said, "I hate to defend him, but according to legend that's just what the Baalbek priests used to do. I can't vouch for Steve being one of the virgins around at the time."
"Oh, don't you encourage him," said Dinah. "It's bad enough having Dan and Sue always egging him on."
"Our children have a lively appreciation of their father's historical expertise," said Collier. "Now, as we hurtle across northern Montelero at five miles an hour, let us devote a few golden minutes to serious discussion. Here we are, two intelligent people, three if you count Willie, threatened with hours of boredom, so let us pool our thoughts on the subject."
Dinah paused in wiping her face with a damp tissue. "What subject, honey?"
"The subject we were just talking about, dozy. What happens to one when one shuffles off this mortal coilor has it shuffled off for one? Does one return? Is one reincarnated? Or not? And if not, then what?"
Dinah blinked. "That's a bit heavy for five a.m., isn't it?"
"Quite so. It will fully engage our attention, which you may remember is highly recommended by the Blaise/Garvin consortium for the prevention of adrenalin fatigue in stressful situations. You start, Willie."
With an effort Willie drew in tendrils of attention that he had been giving to areas of possible developments he felt he might have failed to anticipate. Throughout the night he had been uneasy about his responsibility for Dinah and Steve. There would probably be no danger to cope with, but you could never be sure, and he was realistically aware that he did not quite have the edge of years gone by.
Perhaps Steve had sensed his unease, and this had prompted him to quote the maxim he had learned long years ago from Modesty Blaise and Willie Garvin concerning adrenalin fatigue. Whether or no, it was a timely reminder, Willie decided. He had done all he could to prepare for whatever might arise, and he should now switch off until something happened.
"Let's start with a profound thought," he said cheerfully. "There's plenty of options on offer, but what 'appens next after we pop our clogs 'ere is anyone's guess. So that's the profound thought - it's anyone's guess."
Collier sniffed. "You get one and a half out of ten for that, young Garvin. But continue, lad. Name a few options."
"Well, sir, please sir, when the Grim Reaper calls your name, either you come to a dead stop or you go on. If you stop, that's it. If you go on, there's the problem that you're no longer in Time, and in our present state we're not smart enough to be able to imagine existing in some sort of eternal Now. Then there's the question, are you still you? And aware of it? Or are you just part of what someone once called a Gloomy Merging? I think it was Noel Coward of all people, but never mind. If you are still you, and aware of it, what do you do all day in your new situation? Except that without Time that's a silly question because doing something involves a sequence. So maybe you get the Baalbek option, and keep coming back as a caveman and a temple virgin and a balding statistician, or you get the Christian option, which is very nice but a bit vague, or the Islam option, which is either hellfire or a pleasurepalace mainly for men and even that lot's just for starters. Who's next?"
"Blimey, Willie," said Collier, "you've given it a bit of thought, haven't you?"
Willie looked mildly surprised. "Not really. It's all a guess, so I figured I'd just wait and see. Or not, as the case may be."
Dinah said, "You and Modesty spent time with that old Indian guru in the Thar desert, didn't you? And he imparted a lot of... I don't know, mental abilities, yoga powers. We've seen you both do things we wouldn't have thought possible. What did he say about being dead?"
Willie shrugged. "Only that it was a foolish question. ›Can a beetle fathom the ways of the universe?‹ Old Sivaji never said much about anything. You used the right word, Dinah. He imparted. But he certainly reckoned he was going through a long cycle of incarnations, aiming for perfection so he could finally get off the wheel of rebirth."
"And attain Nirvana?" said Collier. "But then what? Eternal bliss? Wouldn't you get sick of it?"
Willie smiled. "I've always preferred contrast meself. But the Buddha never described Nirvana. He said it was a state of being that couldn't be expressed. I suppose that puts it with all the other heavens on offer that nobody can imagine."
Dinah said, "What does Modesty think? I know people don't get to talking about this kind of thing much, but surely the subject must have come up between you two."
Willie reflected for a few moments. Then he said, "Not in a big way, just the odd comment in passing. We've talked about old Sivaji quite a bit, and one thing he did speak of was what he called the interim. The time between incarnations. Modesty once said if he was right about all that, then she hoped there'd be something worth doing in the interim. She didn't fancy listening to cherubim and seraphim singing their 'earts out till the next incarnation came round."
Collier chuckled. "That wouldn't suit either of you. But what about the absence of Time in which to do anything?"
"Oh, she reckons if we do go on there'll be a substitute for Time. And for bodies."
Collier looked out of the window at the scrawny jungle set back no more than forty paces from the track. "Some of these neardeath experiences you read about are fascinating," he said. "Being drawn along a tunnel towards a bright light seems to feature in several accounts. Of course, the doubters say that's just a final flicker of the brain closing down, but who knows? As you said, it's anyone's guess."
Willie said absently, "It could be a bit individual. I didn't see any tunnel-" he broke off. "Sorry. Just thinking out loud."
Dinah said, "I'm not having that." She got up and moved to sit beside Willie, feeling for his hand. "Hey, did you have one of these neardeath things?"
"It's boring, Dinah. Like when people tell you their dreams." 'You tell us about it right now, Buster, or I'll beat you up something rotten."
Willie sighed. "I bet you were the school bully." Collier said, "You didn't find yourself walking through a drift of clouds, with checkin desks manned by angels in doublebreasted suits and ties?"
Willie grinned. "Like in a Hollywood movie? No, I didn't get that far."
Dinah said, "I'm not letting go on this. Please, Willie, tell us."
"Well... it was back in The Network days. A vice mob under a scumbag called Karnak started some terror killings so he could take over a lot of girls working independently. Modesty decided we'd take 'im out, and we did. It was an easy job compared with some, but I got unlucky and took a ricochet that opened an artery in me thigh - the only shot fired in the whole operation. They got me to our own Network 'ospital in Tangier with not much blood left, and that was only because Modesty got to me in the first ten seconds and rammed 'er thumbs in the wound till Krolli could get a tourniquet onare you all right, Dinah?"
She said softly, "Yes, I'm fine, Willie. I guess I jumped a little because... well, it suddenly hit me, the way we've all been sort of interwoven even before we knew one another. I mean, if Modesty hadn't been quick enough getting to your artery that day, then you wouldn't have been around to save me from Gabriel in the Pearl Islands years later, and I'd never have met Modesty, my best ever girlfriend, or Steve, or... oh golly, you never realise what a knifeedge you're walking. A minute late or a minute early and something could change your whole life."
Collier said, "There's always the theory of parallel worlds. You know, alternative universes where it all happened differently. One where the alternative Modesty was a bit slow with her thumbs, and-"
"Just cut the fantasy stuff and be glad you're in this world, Professor," his wife broke in firmly. "And don't interrupt when I'm listening to Willie."
Collier sat up straight, "I didn't interrupt!" he said indignantly. "It was you coming in with all that ›if this and if that‹ rubbish! But I won't complain. It's my own fault for marrying beneath me. Go on, Willie lad. You have my full attention."
Dinah said, "Yes, go on, Willie. I'll deal with old Collier later. You'd lost a lot of blood and you were in The Network hospital."
"I don't remember anything much of what 'appened after Modesty grabbed me leg," said Willie. "Danny Chavasse told me later that she sat by my bed for three days after they'd pumped a new load of blood into me. All I remember is being... somewhere else, like in a dream, but much stronger, and different. Different in new ways you could never imagine. I was walking down a slope of grass, except it wasn't like any grass I've ever known, and at the bottom of the slope, in the valley, there was-"
Willie paused, giving Collier a look of wry exasperation. "I could say a sort of silvery path, or maybe a river, running off... somewhere. But it wasn't either. It was different. Look, people who use hallucinogenic drugs say they see colours and hear sounds that don't exist in the real world. Well, everything was like that, yet it was all perfectly natural and right in its own way. I said I was walking down a slope, but it wasn't a slope and I wasn't walking. It was all new and different. I can't even visualise it now, and even if I could there aren't words for it. But I was still me, and more... more fully aware of meself than I've ever been, before or since."
Collier said, "Were you aware of any other presence?"
Willie shook his head. "No. I was alone."
Dinah said, "It seems to have left memorytraces but no visual recall."
"That's about it."
She closed her blind eyes. "Or aural recall?"
It was a long time before he answered. During that time Collier could see and Dinah could sense that he was struggling for expression. At last he said reluctantly in a low voice, "You can 'ear the songs the stars sing."
After another silence Collier said gently, "Can you expand on that a bit, Willie?"
He shrugged. "No. It doesn't make sense to me either, now, but it's the nearest I can get in words. You can't really tell any of it in words."
"So there's no way of knowing whether it was a neardeath hallucination or... whatever?"
"There never will be. It'll always be anyone's guess."
Dinah said, "It doesn't seem like a dying brainflicker to me, Steve. I mean, he didn't die, did he?"
"No, which is just as well for us. Willie, this silvery path or river you sawdid you feel that it led somewhere?"
Willie exhaled gustily. "It's 'ard to give straight answers. I think I just felt it led to whatever comes next."
Dinah said, "But you came back. How did that happen?"
"I've no idea, love. All I can remember is waking up very slowly, 'earing Modesty's voice, very soft and gentle, saying nice things like 'ow much she needed me and so on. Then I could feel 'er hand 'olding mine, and a bit later I realised where I was and managed to open my eyes." Willie patted Dinah's hand. "Well, that was it. I never told anyone till now, except Modesty."
Collier said quietly, "Well thanks, Willie. I'm not going to make one of my usual insulting comments."
Dinah said, "You'd better not, or you'll get a knuckle sandwich from the little woman. Hey, listen, Willie, if it turns out that we all come back, you'll keep an eye open for us, won't you?"
Willie considered. Then, "All right. As long as you come back as a girl."
Collier laughed and was about to speak when the train jerked to a sudden halt, almost throwing Dinah to the floor. Willie caught and steadied her. Collier said, "You haven't lost much speed, Willie. Thanks. I'd have said somebody pulled the communication cord, except we don't have one."
With a hand on Willie's chest, Dinah felt a shape she recognised from long ago under the light leather windcheater he wore.
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and said nothing. Willie stood up, and she heard him open the door. "Hang on," he said. "I'll go and see what's 'appening."
Moments later he was moving along beside the track towards the locomotive, which was only partly in sight on a bend. Some of the soldiers were milling around excitedly. One or two men from the government contingent were with them, others were descending, some busy preventing older children getting off the train. Then Willie saw the track a few yards ahead of the locomotive and his heart sank, for both rails were buckled. It could only have been done by explosives, and well before the train's arrival here, for there had been no sound as it approached.
Willie was still fifty paces from the small crowd when he stopped abruptly and moved across the strip of bare ground between the track and the jungle. Five seconds later he had disappeared. In the compartment Collier stood looking out of the window. Dinah said, "What's happening, Steve?"
Collier shook his head. "God knows. The track curves just here, and I was watching Willie, but he suddenly oozed off into the jungle."
"Maybe-"
"No, I'm damn sure he wasn't going for a leak. There was something about the way he moved. Something familiar, but I can't recall why."
Dinah came to his side. "He knows something the rest haven't realised," she said. "That's what it is."
"What the hell can he know-" Collier broke off and put his arm round her. "Sorry, sweetheart. You're right, of course. I've seen him and Modesty in action enough to recognise the aspect they take on. That's what was familiar."
Dinah said, "He's wearing his knives. I felt them."
"I never doubted he would be, my darling. He sees us as his responsibility. You in particular. But what the devil can he be up to?" Collier's voice sharpened suddenly. "Oh Christ, of course! Somebody's blocked the line, and they must be here to have done it! So now they're tucked away in the bush, ready to open fire when they get the right target - the President and half the government most likely. Willie saw it right away."
"Oh my God, the children!" said Dinah. "Run and tell somebody, Steve tell them to keep under cover!"
Collier swore, opened the door, and dropped clumsily to the ground, almost falling. Then he began to run.
Willie Garvin moved warily through the trees and tangled bushes, moving in a halfcircle that would bring him towards the railway at a point where the cover was thickest, the best position for an ambush. He thought the Cobra team would be small, no more than an advance party of a few men, otherwise they would have attacked by now. Very sensibly they wanted to minimise risk and make their first strike conclusivea massive killing.
It was a long time since he had worn his knives except for practice, but he had brought them to Montelero in the knowledge that trouble threatened, and was thankful that he had done so. The leather jacket was unzipped. He carried a knife in one hand, held by the blade, the other was still in one of the twin sheaths strapped in echelon on his left breast. In his free hand he carried a rock he had picked up, the size of a cricket ball.
The ambush was where he had anticipated, three men with a Browning machinegun mounted on a tripod, hidden from the railway by a carefully constructed hide of leafy branches. One man sat at the gun ready to fire. A second knelt beside him with several spare ammunition boxes, each with its 250round disintegrating link belt. The third man was a few paces nearer to Willie, his back to the machinegun, peering into the jungle. He held a submachine gun at the ready, aimed from the hip, and Willie knew that when he left the train he must have been seen and was expected.
He said under his breath, "Send me good vibes, Princess," and stepped out from behind the tree that hid him. The rock hurtled fast from his hand as the muzzle of the gun swung towards him, finding its mark before the trigger could be pulled, striking squarely on the centre of the forehead. The man went down without a sound, but as he fell the Browning began to chatter.
Willie swore viciously and a knife flew, the second knife following as the first struck home. The chatter of the machinegun stopped abruptly. About one and a half seconds, Willie thought as he moved forward, and with a rate of 500 rpm that would mean only about twelve rounds fired, and probably well bunched. It could have been worse.
With sudden realisation he flung himself flat, diving behind a shallow ridge in the ground, barely in time to escape the fusillade of shots that came from the railway, ripping through the jungle fringe, tearing away leaves and twigs. The soldiers were firing blind with their Sten guns.
Beside the train, Collier raced towards the scene, bawling like a madman. "Stop, you bastards! Stop!" One soldier and one government man lay on the ground, either dead or wounded. Collier swerved round them, still shouting, switching to Spanish and waving his arms frantically in an obvious ceasefire sign. The shooting dwindled and died, more because magazines were empty than from Collier's action, but it gave him the chance to get in front of the small bewildered group, still shouting and waving at them.
No shots came from the jungle, and the soldiers looked uncertainly about them for guidance. Collier turned and bellowed, "Willie! Are you okay?"
A voice came clearly from the jungle fringe. "Only bloody just! Tell them I've got two dead rebels 'ere, plus one possibly live rebel and a machinegun! And I'm not even going to stand up till all those Stens 'ave got the safetycatches on! Tell 'em, Steve!"
Collier heaved a sigh of relief, wiped sweat from his brow, and turned to speak to the soldiers.

* * *

In the Security Office at the Panama City airport John Dall sat holding a mug of coffee, watching Miguel Sagasta and Modesty Blaise as they studied a map spread on the table. Modesty wore a camouflage jacket and trousers. She had slept for most of the time during the flight from Heathrow. Dall had been unable to sleep, and was tired now. They had arrived only minutes ago to receive news that he felt she had reacted to oddly. At first she had seemed anxious, but this had quickly passed to be replaced by a sparkling eagerness, as if the challenge had brought her a surge of exhilaration.
"Your friends and all on the train with them are trapped," Sagasta was saying. "The track is destroyed, the telephone line also." He looked at Modesty curiously. "When you called from England, why did you ask if I could have listening watch kept on those lines at the border exchange?"
She shook her head with a touch of impatience. "I don't know, Miguel. It just seemed right." She pushed back a wisp of hair from her brow. "The lines on this side of the break are probably sound, so they offer a possible avenue of communication. I must have felt it might be useful."
Sagasta smiled. "You have a great instinct, my dear, and now logic has caught up with it. Willie Garvin seems to be on the same wavelength, for when he left the capital he took one of the office phones with him. This is now connected to the lines on this side of the break and a hundred metres or so from the train," he laid a finger on the map, "about here, not far from the 125-kilometre post. That is how we know the location." He looked up. "So I have spoken directly to Willie. The border exchange patched him through to this office. Do you wish to speak with him, Modesty? It will take a few minutes. He has returned to the train but left a man by the phone who will call him if need be."
She hesitated, then, "If he's taken charge there, he could have his hands full. First let's hear what he told you."
"Very well. A party of three rebels blew up the line and lay in ambush, ready to attack with a machinegun when the people descended from the train. Willie forestalled this. One of the three was left alive and made prisoner. While Willie was away connecting the telephone, the man was questioned by the Montelero escort of soldiers. Questioned intensively, I fear, for he did not survive. It was revealed that a rebel force some two hundred strong is approaching from the west, and that he and his late comrades were sent on a day ahead of that force to halt the train and kill the refugees."
Modesty said, "All of them?"
"So he admitted, shortly before he died. Every soul on the train was to be destroyed, leaving no witnesses. That task will now fall to the main body when it arrives, which can be no more than a matter of hours now."
When Modesty looked up from the map Dall saw that her eyes were blank, her face without expression. "Will they do that, Miguel?" she said.
"Without question, my dear. A government in exile is the one threat to their hopes of many years in unchallenged power." Sagasta leaned forward to run a finger across a small section of the map. "The Cobra force is moving from the west along this road, south of these two parallel ridges. There is a narrow pass through the first ridge, here. They can then continue along a track that runs up over the second ridge and down to the railway line."
She said, "How strong is the Montelero escort and what firepower do they have?"
Sagasta looked up, grimfaced. The escort has decamped. They disappeared into the bush with their weapons, heading away from the rebel approach. In due course they will either declare themselves for the rebel cause, or attempt illegal immigration over our border."
Modesty looked at the scale of the map. "That's about seventy miles to the nearest point, going across country. Even Willie can't get a whole mob of men, women and children to the border through that jungle terrain."
Sagasta said, "But there is perhaps something he can do. He wants to take up two sound rails from behind the train and use them to replace the buckled rails in front of the train. Once it is moving again, the rebel force cannot overtake it."
Dall said softly, "The old bastard hasn't lost his touch, Modesty."
But she was watching Sagasta. "You don't look happy, Miguel. What's the snag?"
"I'm sorry. He needs a tool to effect the change. He needs a fishplate spanner, a spanner a metre long. Without it he cannot unbolt the rails and replace them."
Dall said, "Oh, Jesus. Can you get one to him?"
Modesty made an impatient gesture. "Not just one, Johnny."
Sagasta smiled at her. "Of course not. Two would halve the time. I have managed to secure three at short notice, and they are with the aeroplane 1 have hired for you. It is for you to get them to him, Modesty. I am already beyond the limits of my authority."
She touched his arm. "I know that, and I'm grateful. I'll file a flight plan for Santiago, so whatever happens it can't be laid at your door. Will that do?"
Sagasta spread his hands. "Perfectly. Now, do you wish to speak with Willie or will you leave at once?"
She had already made that decision. "I'll go now. He'll be doing everything I might suggest, and I mustn't waste any time. Just pass the message that I'm on my way, please Miguel."
Dall got to his feet as she moved towards him. He said, "No good asking to come with you?"
"Oh, Johnny. You know that's out of the question." She took his face between her hands, studying him. "You're tired. Now give me a kiss, then go and rest. And thank you for everything."
Dall kissed her, holding her close for a moment. "Come back safe," he said. "You hear?"
She laughed softly. "I've never been able to promise that, have I? But don't fret, Johnny, I'll be okay."
He let her go and she moved to the door Sagasta was holding open for her. There she paused, rested a hand briefly on Sagasta's shoulder, looked at Dall for a moment, smiled, flickered an eyelid at him and was gone.

* * *

Willie Garvin sat in a corner of the compartment, his eyes closed. He was alone. Collier and Dinah had climbed the ladder to the coach roof above him. With her highly acute hearing, Dinah would be the first to pick up the sound of Modesty's aircraft as it approached.
A few of the government men had set off along the track on foot with their wives and children. Willie had not tried to dissuade them. They could not hope to make the journey before being overtaken by the rebel soldiers, but once the track was repaired the train would soon catch up with the walkers and take them aboard, for all the difficult gradients were behind, and the driver had said that the rest of the run to the border was over flat ground which would allow reasonable speed.
For Willie it had been a busy morning. He had spent the last halfhour using yoga techniques to restore his mental and physical energy. Now he reflected quietly on what he had done, and decided there was nothing more until Modesty arrived. It would be impossible for her to land here, but that simply meant the aircraft would be a writeoff. No doubt it was fully insured.
She was on her way, Sagasta had told him, with fishplate spanners, weaponry, field glasses, twoway radios, and whatever other items she had decided might be of use.
Willie sat relaxed, slowly distancing himself from the present and from all about him, letting his mind drift back to when he had last seen her. That was at her cottage in Benildon, ten days ago, shortly before the fighting broke out in Montelero. He had been lying in a lounger on the terrace in the warm July sunshine, idly assessing the pros and cons of getting up and fetching himself a cold beer from the kitchen.
It was a finely balanced decision. On the one hand Modesty always kept an ample supply of his favourite beer at the cottage, and it would be bliss to feel the ambrosial liquid swilling around his tastebuds before it made the happy descent down his throat. On the other hand, as lawyers so often said, one had to consider adverse factors. The lounger was very comfortable, and the fridge in the kitchen was a good thirty paces from the terrace where he reclined.
"And," Willie reminded himself solemnly, "you're not as young as you were, Willieboy." He grinned to himself at the thought, and was about to get up when two bare arms slid down over his shoulders to rest across his chest, and a soft cheek was laid against his.
Surprise touched him gently, for this and other small gestures of affection she had been showing lately were something new- not that her affection for him had ever been in doubt, but through all the long years it had been tacit and rarely displayed. He found the change very pleasant even as he wondered at it.
Opening one eye he saw that a tankard of beer now stood on the little table beside his chair. Modesty Blaise said in his ear, "I have this amazing telepathic power." She straightened up, ruffled his hair, and moved to sit on the swingseat to his left. Her feet were bare, and the long slender legs rose to faded denim shorts topped by a sleeveless silk blouse. The legs, Willie decided, were as good as ever, a joy to contemplate.
He said, "Thanks, Princess. I bet you got this telepathic power when you were in the woods at dawn one day and saved a little pixie who was caught in some brambles, and she gave you three wishes."
She looked at him in surprise. "How did you know?"
He took a long pull at his beer. "I've met 'er myself. It's Mabel. She's always getting in trouble and giving three wishes to people who get 'er out. I once saved 'er from a killer rabbit, and she gave me the Derby winner."
"That was useful. What about the other two wishes?"
"I've forgotten now. I think one of them was to do with girls. What about your other two?"
She was silent for several seconds, gazing absently into space, then seemed to emerge from a reverie. "Oh, sorry. My other two wishes?" She shook her head. "I passed. From what I've read about people who take up these threewish offers they usually wish they hadn't. There's always a nasty sting in the tail." She paused, frowning. "Did I tell you John Dall's coming here at the end of next week to spend a few days with me?"
Willie said, "You told me last week, Princess. Give 'im my best. I'd like to 'ave seen John, but I'll be in Montelero."
She nodded. "Yes, of course. I'm glad you're going. Things seem to be getting a little tense out there, and I always worry about Dinah."
A few days ago a typical letter from Collier had arrived, pointing out that for ten weeks now he had been hotly engaged in statistical analysis for the Montelero government, and that Dinah was alleging neglect and becoming mutinous. She had therefore demanded that he require the presence of the notorious hooligan, Modesty Blaise, to keep her company for the final weeks of his commission. Dinah's demand had been emphasised, he claimed, by skilfully timed rights to the jaw and threats of kneecapping if he failed to assuage her loneliness. The presence of that illfavoured member of the lower classes, Willie Garvin, would be tolerated providing he remained silent and wore a stocking over his head at all times.
To Willie's surprise Modesty had said, "You go, Willie love, I can't make it just now. I have John Dall coming, and then Weng's getting stroppy because he says there's a lot of business paperwork I've neglected."
It was no doubt true about Weng and the paperwork, thought Willie as he took another pull at his beer, but it was unlike her to be concerned about such things.
She said, "I've cabled them to say I'm sorry I can't make it. Anyway, Dinah loves having you around, so does Steve, whose insults are code for endearments. They won't mind if I'm not there this time." She rose from the swingseat. "Give a shout if you want another beer." She patted his cheek and moved away towards the cottage.
Steve and Dinah would mind though, Willie thought as he watched her go. They would both be disappointed, as he was himself. He sighed inwardly. How long was it now? Over thirty years since the day she had come into his wretched life and remade his world. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and gazed down the long slope of the years. In the beginning was The Network and the days of high danger. When Modesty wound up the organisation and they retired, there was an unexpected but not unwelcome continuation of risk and challenge in what Willie always thought of as the Tarrant era.
Sir Gerald Tarrant was head of British Intelligence in that time. Modesty and Willie had worked for him only twice by design, but there were later occasions when he had been involved in a number of the conflicts into which they had been drawn. It was now eight years since Tarrant's death following five years of retirement. He had suffered a heart attack while staying with Modesty at Benildon, and died quickly, quietly, contentedly, in the ambulance on the way to hospital, holding Modesty's hand.
Throughout the Tarrant era and the years that followed, time had slipped by barely noticed, for their lives were full. They sought trouble no more than the iron filing seeks the magnet, but were drawn to it no less inevitably. There had been new enemies to face, new dangers to be met, but these occasions were shortlived periods of intense experience, and served only to heighten their enjoyment of all that lay between, sharpening their appreciation of the good fortune that fate had laid upon them.
Their adrenalin addiction, whether gift or burden, had also been laid upon them by the tapestry woven in their early lives, and they were aware of this, accepting it as a facet of their destiny. But with the passing years it grew less demanding, and this seemed to reduce the aura that made them so readily subject to the attraction exerted by the forcefield of danger. It was four years now since they had been in serious action, but regular training in their various skills was a lifetime habit they still maintained.
And that was just as well, thought Willie as he came back to the present, because this could turn out to be a very dodgy caper. He opened his eyes, got to his feet and was about to open the compartment door when Collier shouted from the roof above him.
"Willie! She's here-Dinah can hear her!"
Two minutes later they were on the strip of open ground between track and jungle, standing among the chattering refugees as a Piper Tomahawk circled above them, quickly losing height. "She's checking the winddirection by the locomotive stack," said Willie. "I got them to chuck some green stuff on the coal to thicken it up."
Collier said, "Why is she-?" and broke off. The plane had moved upwind and was turning in a slow roll. Something fell, and immediately blossomed into a small parachute which slanted back towards the train as it descended. "Very considerate," said Collier. "She doesn't want us to have to climb trees." He took his wife's hand. "There's a small parachute with a little package coming down, and it's going to land pretty close. How did she get it out of the plane, Willie? You can't just open a window, can you?"
"There's a roof door on the Piper Tomahawk," said Willie. "It's open now. That'll be a hand radio she's dropped, with a bit of weight for stability." He began to move forward, calling in Spanish to the little group of men watching, telling them to remain where they were. Since he had achieved the miracle of summoning help his authority had been unquestioned, for these were very frightened people. It was on his instructions that the children were now confined to the coaches and in the care of the women.
The parachute came down just ahead of the locomotive and close to the jungle fringe. Willie cut the padded bag from the shrouds and took out the little radio. Above, Modesty had banked round and he could see her looking down. He waved and received an answering wave before the circuit took her from his view. Walking back to join Steve and Dinah he checked that the batteries were firmly connected and drew out the short aerial. At once her voice came clearly to him. "I'll be dropping the container next, Willie. Three fishplate spanners, some weaponry and sundries. How long will you need to get that train moving?"
With the sound of her voice his heart lifted and the whole world became brighter, for he felt suddenly complete. Three spanners! He was grinning with relief as he spoke into the integral microphone. "A couple of hours if we hit no snags, Princess."
He had rejoined the Colliers now, and they were listening as she spoke again: "Then we'll need a holding operation. At the moment you have only about halfanhour. Have you been up on that eastwest ridge to look at the approach, Willie?"
"Sure, Princess, first thing after I'd got through to Sagasta. It's not good. There's a track leading up from the pass to the railway, meeting it about a quartermile west of where we're stuck. But with you and me up on the ridge with a bit of firepower we could hold 'em quite a while. Long enough, I reckon."
"Not that simple, Willie. I made a sweep south before I came here, and I've seen the Cobra column. They're going to reach the pass in less than halfanhour. What their late comrade didn't tell his inquisitors is that they have two armoured cars. The stuff I've brought will stop footsoldiers but not armour. Are Steve and Dinah listening?"
"Yes. Sorry, Princess."
"No, that's fine. I just want them to know it's all going to be okay. Now here's the plot. I'll drop the container next circuit. You get the driver and fireman and any other likely man busy with the spanners. Show Steve exactly what has to be done, and put him in charge. Have him wear one of the revolvers from the container to establish his authority, then you meet me on the ridge, just east of that stand of tall trees. You'll have to hump the rifles and as much ammo as you can carry, but you can take it slowly. I'll bring the first aid kit and the radio. Leave your radio with Dinah so we can keep in touch. We'll want to know when the train's ready to go so we can disengage. All clear?"
"You'll be coming up the ridge from the far side?"
"Yes. With you being so loaded, I'll probably be there before you. Okay, stand by for the drop."
Again the Piper moved upwind along the railway. Again it rolled, and this time as the parachute opened a large cylindrical canvas container hung from it. Willie said, "Lend a hand, Steve, and bring Dinah with you."
Collier took his wife's arm. As they moved with Willie towards the area where the container would land Dinah said, "Why is she going to bale out so far away?"
Collier said in a startled voice, "Bale out?"
"Well, what else, honey? She can't land here."
"Oh God, no, of course she can't. But what about the plane?"
"She'll think of something," said Willie. "Waste not, want not."
"Eh?"
They had reached the container, and Willie ignored the question as he dropped to one knee and began to unfasten the straps. "Help me sort this stuff out, Steve. You 'eard what Modesty said. I'll show you what's to be done, then I'm off. The rest's up to you."
Collier said miserably, "Jesus, I'm useless at this sort of thing. I'll make a colossal cockup of it."
Dinah put her arms round him and kissed him on the chin. "You said the same thing twenty years ago when you were looking after me in Panama, and you've been saying it ever since, but you always turn up trumps, Steve."
"This is different-"
"Shut up and listen. You're not required to do anything manual, you simply use your voice and your terrifying personality. You're going to strut about giving orders in a loud, hectoring manner. I know that's not you, but I also know you can ham it up. You're great at that. Now come on, give me a snarl, tiger."
Collier bared his teeth. "Grrrrr! Like that?"
"Promising, but could do better. Now work yourself into the skin of the part while you're helping Willie. It's an act, Steve, and it's right up your street, so bloody well do it."
Willie lifted an M-16 rifle from the container and sighed inwardly as he glanced at the blind girl. There were times, before Steve, that he never allowed himself to think about now. She was still lovely, and he had never ceased to admire her quality. He laid the rifle aside and lifted out the great spanners. "Let's get to work," he said.
Ten minutes later he stood beside the track where the rails were buckled. The container was now slung across his back and secured by the straps, leaving his hands free. In it were two M-16 rifles with ten 20round staggeredrow box magazines, one Colt .45 revolver, two pairs of field glasses, some plastic explosive with detonators, four grenades and a coil of nylon rope. A small haversack at his hip held a bottle of water, chocolate, packets of dates, and some amphetamine tablets.
Collier, in shirtsleeves and with a revolver holstered at his hip, was barking out orders to the driver, fireman, and ex-Minister of Agriculture who were using the fishplate spanners. Other men were filling holes blown in the flintstone base of the track. Above, the Piper was still making wide circuits out beyond the ridges and back, with Modesty reporting progress of the rebel force. Dinah stood beside Willie, listening to the medley of sounds.
He said into the radio, "It's all going okay 'ere, Princess. I'll be on my way now."
Her voice came back. "Me too, Willie love. We'll need time to pick a good spot. See you soon." The Piper banked away, climbing.
As Willie put the radio in Dinah's hand she said, "What did you mean about Modesty and the plane when you said ›Waste not, want not‹?"
"Well, she's got to bale out, but she'll try to work it so-" Willie broke off as Collier came towards them, face set and gleaming with sweat, jaw jutting, eyes narrowed, a man transformed. He was gazing south, to where the Piper had climbed high above the ridge and was beginning to dive. They could hear the rising scream of the engine at full throttle, and now the Piper was vertical, hurtling towards the ground like a divebomber.
Collier said savagely, "What the bloody hell is she playing at?" Nobody answered, and he exhaled with relief as he glimpsed a small black object above the aircraft. A parachute opened and began slanting north as it descended. The Piper flashed on down. A split second after it had vanished behind the ridge there came the heavy bellow of an explosion.
"... try to work it so she blocks the pass," Willie resumed. A thick black cloud of smoke rose in the distance, and as the parachute sank lower her voice came over the radio, a little breathless. "She hit the north end and she's burning nicely. I need both hands to steer this 'chute, so over and out."
The men working on the buckled rails had stopped to stare. Collier whirled and bawled obscenities at them. As they hastily returned to their work he glared at Willie. "She's done what?"
"Crashed the plane in the pass. It'll bum for a while and be too 'ot to 'andle for a lot longer. They can get past on foot by climbing up the west slope a bit, but they won't be able to get the armoured cars through. That's what matters."
Collier grinned wolfishly, watching the parachute and its passenger vanish below the line of the ridge. "The Blaise touch," he said. "You can recognise it anywhere." His expression changed to one of frowning indignation. "How did you know what she was going to do?" he demanded.
Dinah said, "Boy, are you dopey, you've seen it all before. He just knows how she thinks, doesn't he? Now go on, get back to your slavedriver act."
"Watch me," said Collier. He punched Willie gently on the arm. "Give her my love and bring her back safe." He turned to stride back to the working party, shouting. "Come on, you idle bastards! Get those holes levelled up! You're not Minister of Culture now, Santana, you're all ministers of labour, and it's sweat or die! You hear?"
Willie said, "He'll do all right, Dinah. He always does."
She nodded. "It would kill him to let you down. Can you manage all that weight?"
"Sure. It's not too bad."
"Well, you take care. And give a girl a kiss before you go."
He laughed, gathered her in his arms and held her quietly for a moment before kissing the corner of her mouth. "Don't worry. We always come back, don't we?"
"You'd better. Give her my love, too."
"I won't forget." He released her, turned and began to move west along the railway to where the jungle track led up the ridge and on to the pass in the valley beyond.

* * *

The slope up from the railway was wooded except where the narrow track ran through it. Beyond the ridge, the ground fell to a valley, and here the jungle ceased, giving way to seamed rock and scrub. The incline down to the valley was long and gentle, the valley itself narrow, for soon the ground rose again to a higher ridge, bare and rocky, to drop almost sheer on the far side.
This second ridge was split by a sharp V, forming a pass which became the track leading on over the nearer ridge and down to the railway. An hour had gone by, but the remains of the Piper still smouldered and the wreckage blocked the pass. The Cobra rebels had outflanked the wreckage on foot by climbing some way up the west slope of the V, and were now deployed in the valley, pinned down by sparing but very accurate fire from the northern ridge before them.
Modesty Blaise and Willie Garvin lay in the shallow depression on the crest, a sandy hollow rimmed on its southern edge by a screen of foliage they had cut and dragged into position. From this vantage point they could look down upon the area where the rebels had taken cover two hundred yards below. An early attempt to rush the summit had been broken up well before the leading attackers were halfway up the slope. Since then there had been outbursts of smallarms fire, achieving no result, and an attack using mortars. Nine bombs had fallen along the ridge, the nearest on rocky ground some thirty feet away, but the hollow had given good protection. Only a direct hit would have any effect.
Willie lay resting. Modesty was on watch, gazing through a gap in the foliage. Willie thought she looked more relaxed and serene than he remembered for several weeks past. She had greeted him warmly, giving him a hug when they met, and had been talking easily and happily between the short periods of attack.
"If they've got any sense," said Willie, "they'll send someone to climb the far side of the ridge across the valley. From that peak at about eleven o'clock from 'ere he'll 'ave us in view. Range about two-fifty. He could just spray us."
Modesty nodded. "I had a look at the far side from the Piper. It's steep but climbable. I think they'll make it in another halfhour." She turned her head to smile at him, and it was the rare smile he always held in his mind's eye, warm and humorous and intimate, the smile that made him feel he could pluck the moon from the sky for her, and was for him alone because of all they had shared through the long years.
She returned to her task, watching the valley below, and Willie settled himself more comfortably, closing his eyes, waiting for his turn to take watch in another ten minutes if no emergency occurred before then. She was extraordinarily relaxed, he thought.
Once the rebels put a man on that peak, quite apart from being able to fire down on the hollow he would also be able to signal any attempt by the defenders to disengage, which would give them only a two hundredyard start in reaching the train. That was too little, for the old locomotive would have to move very slowly over the repaired section of track, and in any case would take some time to reach more than walking speed.
Willie was fully aware that Modesty knew all this as well as he did, yet she was clearly unworried about the problem of disengagement. "She'll have something in mind," he decided comfortably. "She always does."
Half a mile away, Collier moved to where his wife sat near the track on a cushioned seat taken from the train. "What's new, sweetheart?" he said, dropping down beside her with a grunt of relief.
"Looks pretty good," said Dinah. "We're not making smalltalk, but Modesty came through ten minutes ago to say there's been no fresh attack since that last mortarbomb effort. I don't think she's conning me, because I've heard no firing. How's your team doing? I haven't heard you bawling at them lately."
"No need," said Collier. "There's nothing like being scared spitless to boost your output. From the moment that firing started they've been working like demented beavers."
"No snags?"
"Plenty. There are twelve sleepers to each section of track, and two fishplates on each sleeper. Every fishplate is bolted to the sleeper and to the rail. We've unbolted the buckled rails and replaced two busted fishplates with two from the track behind the train. We've unbolted one good rail from behind and bolted it in front. Now we're working on the second rail. We've also had to replace a smashed sleeper and repair bits of track-I mean the stones the sleepers are bedded in."
"So plenty of snags but you're coping?"
"Yes. Rather well, to be honest. I just pretend I'm Modesty or Willie and come up with an answer." Collier shook his head, frowning. "It's bloody patronising of them if you ask me. I shall have words with them on their return."
Dinah smiled and felt for his hand. "No. You'll just rave at them for leaving it late and taking needless risks and so on, the way you always do."
Collier pressed her hand, then got to his feet, grinning. "They'd start worrying about me if I didn't," he said.

* * *

Another thirty minutes had gone by. Willie lay prone on watch. Beside him, Modesty lay on her back. There had been one sneak attempt by two men to crawl within grenade range of the hollow, but Willie's grenade range on the downslope combined with his unique power and accuracy was almost three times theirs and they were now dead.
There was hardly any wind, and it was very quiet on the ridge when Modesty said softly, "Willie... give me a kiss."
He was startled, as he had not been when Dinah used almost the same words. "Eh? Oh... my pleasure, Princess." He edged towards her to kiss her cheek, but she put a hand to his chin and moved her head a little so that her lips were laid gently on his for a moment, and for the first time.
Then she was smiling up at him, patting his cheek and saying, "Back on watch, Willie, and don't look away from that peak while I talk. There's something I have to tell you."
He stared across the valley, stomach suddenly taut with anxiety, trying to concentrate on his task. "What's up, Princess? I mean... did something 'appen I don't know about?"
She said, "I want you to go back now, Willie. Back to the train. Dinah just said they'll be ready to move in twenty minutes, and I want you there from the start. I'll be staying on to cover you. I won't be coming back."
He said hoarsely, "Christ, no! It's not on, Princess! I know disengaging could be tricky, but we'll manage. Even if the train goes without us we can make it through the jungle, you and me. We'll do it easy-"
She broke in. "Don't argue, Willie, we haven't much time. Believe me, this is the best thing that could have happened for me, it really is. If I went in for praying, it would be what I'd pray for. No, don't take your eyes off that peak. Just listen. I've been worried sick about you for weeks now, trying to figure how to tell you, but now it's simple."
Without moving his head he said in a whisper, "Tell me what?"
"About three months ago I started getting headaches. That's new for me, but it wasn't just headaches. I began to feel there was something wrong in my head. That's when I went off to New York for a week or two, because I didn't want to worry you." He felt her hand on his arm, and swallowed incoherent words that were jumbled in his throat.
She said, "I'll keep it short, Willie. I went into the Royston Clinic. They took X-rays, made scans, and decided something needed checking. They drilled a little hole in my head, took a sample from inside, and discovered that I've got something nasty there that they can't do anything about. It's too late. It was always too late."
She was silent for a few moments, letting him absorb the shock. Willie said nothing, for no words could cope with the huge horror that filled him. She said gently, "I know it's a shock, but be glad for me, Willie. I've had a marvellous life, you know I have. Now time's up, and for the last few weeks I've known that I'll soon be starting to die, but that first I'll stop being me and become pretty much a vegetable. In a way I suppose that wouldn't matter much for me, because I wouldn't know, but I couldn't bear it for you, and I've been at my wit's end trying to think whether to tell you, or just disappear, or... whatever."
She pressed his arm, then took her hand away. "But when this Montelero thing happened I had a feeling that somehow I'd have a chance to go out the way I'd want, the way we both thought it likely we'd go during all those years when we somehow managed to miss it by a whisker. I didn't dream it could work out quite so well as this. I mean, we can't disengage until that train's on the move. Apart from Steve and Dinah there are... how many children aboard? Thirty, didn't you say? Well, one of us has to stay till they're on their way, and I'm first choice by a mile. You can't argue, Willie. I have to go on the big walkabout soon, and I'd so much rather go with a bang than a whimper, doing something a bit useful. This is the very best thing that could have happened to me."
He lay for a long minute, holding back futile protest, a part of him seeking desperately for a way out, an alternative, yet knowing there was none. Now he understood the open affection she had shown for him these past weeks, the small physical contacts, the almost maternal regard, and the moments when she had seemed far away in a world of her own. Now too he understood the eagerness for action he had sensed so strongly during the phonecall from Government House yesterday, and he knew that she had come here gladly to die.
He heard her laugh softly, and she said, "It's been a great bonus, living this long, Willie. Don't make it hard for me now. I want you to start back right away. I'll tell Dinah about it on the radio, so you won't have that job to do when you see her. All right?"
It was an effort to speak, for his throat had almost closed, but he croaked, "All right, Princess." The last word had barely left his lips when he saw a figure stand up on the peak across the valley, a rifle aimed. With instant reaction he sighted and fired. The man went down, and as he did so Willie heard a quiet sound close beside him, followed a fraction of a second later by the brief chatter of firing from the peak, delayed by distance and no more than four or five rounds.
He said, "I got 'im just as he fired, Princess. Looks like he was on 'is own."
Her hand pulled feebly at his arm, and when he turned his head he saw that she was lying on her side now with blood welling from the hollow behind the collarbone, and he knew that a chance bullet had driven down through that hollow, deep into her chest. She said in a gentle voice, "Well, there now. I'm sorry. Do what you think best, Willie love."
She turned on to her front, head pillowed in the crook of her good arm, her face hidden. Seconds later her body went limp. Willie reached out to rest a hand on her neck. Two fingers felt the last fading pulse of the carotid artery, and he knew he was alone. Beside her the radio squawked and Dinah's voice said, "We've got up steam, Modesty, and the driver says only ten minutes now. You and Willie start running. Please, honey, don't wait."
Before Willie could reply he heard the sound of mortars from down in the valley. Moments later, when three bombs landed, he was huddled down in the hollow, the radio beneath him for protection, an arm across Modesty for no reason. The bombs exploded, the nearest fifteen yards from where he lay. He said, "No damage, Princess," and was lifting his head to watch for the expected attack when a piece of rock the size of a melon came down from thirty feet on to his ankle.
After the first gasp of agony he focused on the pain, closing his mind to it as he peered down the slope. Four men were moving up at a crouching run, weaving as they came. He waited a little, ignoring Dinah's anxious voice from the radio, then picked off the leading two. The others turned back and he let them go. Using the Sivaji technique, he opened himself to the pain, letting it wash through him as water through a net, distancing himself from it until it faded to insignificance. Then he picked up the radio and said, "Dinah?"
"Oh God, I heard them start that bombing again, Willie. Are you both okay?"
He said, "I've got something important to tell you, Dinah. Modesty was going to tell you 'erself, but it's too late now. She just died."
"Oh Willie, no!" Her voice cracked on the word.
"It's what she wanted. Exactly what she wanted. She told me why, only a couple of minutes ago. Now listen..."
A little way from where the second rail was being bolted to the last of the fishplates, Dinah stood whitefaced and drawn, the radio close to her ear. A minute later, cheeks wet with tears, she said shakily, "But why didn't she tell us? Oh, I'm sorry, that's stupid! She wouldn't lay that on us. But... but... oh God, I can't think. Can you get away now? She'd want that, Willie, you know she would. We'll be ready the moment you get down here."
His voice over the radio was easy and untroubled. "She told me to do what I think best, so here it is, Dinah. With one of those last bombs, a bloody great chunk of rock came down on my ankle and it's bust. Now listen and don't argue. There's no way I can come with you. I'm staying 'ere till I see the train on its way. When it's about 'alf a mile from where you are now I'll be able to see the smoke until you go be'ind that low ridge where the track takes a long bend."
"Willie, please-"
"Just listen. Once you're away I'll move off. I'll be a bit slow, but with any luck I'll be able to lie low or get clear one way or another. Then I'll take the jungle route to the border. I can rig a crutch with the rifles, and I'm good in the jungle, you know that. This is what Modesty would want, so this is what I'll do. Okay?"
She said in a small voice, "Yes, Willie."
"That's a good girl. Don't let Steve make a song and dance about this, will you? I think that's all. See you later, love, but I might be a while so don't wait up for me, eh?"
"All right, Willie. Good luck, and a big hug from me." She lowered the radio and called, "Steve! Steve!"
Two minutes later, grey with exhaustion and grief, Collier said, "Oh, dear God. We'll be breathing on one lung from now on." He put his arms round Dinah and held her close. "Do you think he'll make it?"
"He'll... sort of do his best. But for Willie there's no longer any point in making it now. That's the difference." She drew a deep breath, stepped back and wiped her damp grimy face. "Come on, tiger. We've got a job to finish. I couldn't bear to let them down now."
Fifteen minutes later Willie saw smoke from the locomotive appear above the trees to the east. He watched with satisfaction as it moved steadily on for several minutes before vanishing behind the ridge. There was no further attack in that time, but he suspected that a small party had split from the main body unseen during the last mortar attack and had moved along the valley to climb the ridge further west and so outflank him.
On reflection he decided it was time to tidy up and be gone.
He had strapped the broken ankle securely, and lashed the two riflebarrels together, overlapping end to end so that they formed a makeshift crutch. Now he spent five minutes crawling round the edge of the hollow, setting small quantities of plastic explosive deep in the sandy earth beyond the rim, talking quietly to Modesty.
"I'm glad it worked out for you, Princess. Knocked me sideways at first, but... I can see 'ow you felt. I reckon they're aiming to outflank me, so I'll be off soon. The train's away with Dinah and Steve and all the rest, so there's nothing more to be done 'ere. I 'ope you're okay. Funny thing, when we were on the train Steve got us talking about what comes next. Well... it's anyone's guess, isn't it?" He put the last piece of plastic in place, then set a detonator in each before crawling away from the hollow to the edge of the wooded slope leading down to the railway. There he took cover, watching.
The explosions came as close together as he had hoped when setting the detonators, and as the echoes died he saw with satisfaction that what had been a deep hollow was now a mound of earth and sand. He said, "Sleep well, Princess," and began to hobble down the slope.
After five minutes he had covered no more than two hundred yards and had fallen twice. His hurt foot gave no support and the rifles made a poor crutch on the incline, tending to slip. Pausing for a moment, holding a sapling for support, he heard shouts from the ridgetop behind him. Chest heaving with effort, he pushed on. There came a louder shout from above, and he heard the whipcrack sound of a bullet as it passed a yard to his left.
"Getting a bit dodgy, Princess." Holding in his mind's eye that smile of hers that was his alone, he stumbled on, well content, but had moved only a few more yards when he fell again and for a moment was numb.
Then he was on his feet once more, moving easily and unencumbered down the slope, without pain, the trees gone now. Timeless he moved down the slope of grass that in some way was not grass but perhaps the essence of it, down towards the valley where a silvery path or perhaps a river, though in some way neither, ran or perhaps simply was.
Somewhere he could hear the songs the stars sang, and with new senses he was aware in unimaginable ways of himself and everything about him, but above all and as never before knowing the totality of the familiar companion moving with him.