Read Online The Last Place God Made by Jack Higgins - Free Book Online
Authors: Jack Higgins
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bed.
He thrashed about for a while, hands plucking at himself. As I leaned over him, his eyes opened. He stared up at me, a slight frown on his face and smiled.
"You new, Kid? Just out from England?"
"Something like that" I glanced at Mannie who made no sign.
"If you last a week you've got a chance." He grabbed me by the front of my flying jacket. "I'll give you a tip. Never cross the line alone under ten thousand feet, that's lesson number one."
"I'll remember that," I said.
"And the sun - watch the sun."
I think he was trying to say more but his head fell to one side and he passed out again.
I said, "He thought he was back on the Western Front."
Mannie nodded. "Always the same. Hopelessly trapped by the past."
He tucked the blankets in around Hannah's shoulders very carefully and I went into the living-room. It had stopped rain-ing and moisture, drawn by the heat, rose from the ground out-side like smoke.
It was still cool in the bedroom and I lay down and stared up at the ceiling, thinking about Sam Hannah, the man who had once had everything and now had nothing. And after a while, I drifted into sleep.
FIVE
The Killing Ground
Forte Franco must have been the sort of posting which to any career officer was equivalent of a sentence of death. A sign that he was finished. That there was no more to come. Because of this I had expected the kind of second-rater one usually found in command of up-river military posts; incapable of realizing his own inadequacies and permanently soured by his present misfortunes.
Colonel Albert¯ was not at all like that. I was helping Mannie get the Hayley ready to go when the launch came into the jetty and he disembarked. He was every inch the soldier in a well-tailored drill uniform, shining boots, black polished holster on his right thigh. Parade-ground smart and the face beneath the peaked cap was intelligent and firm although tinged with yellow as if he'd had jaundice which was a common enough complaint in the climate.
There were half a dozen soldiers in the boat, but only one accompanied him, a young sergeant as smartly turned-out as his colonel with a briefcase in one hand and a couple of machine-guns slung over one shoulder.
Alberto smiled pleasantly and spoke in quite excellent Eng-lish. "A fine morning, Senhor Sterne. Is everything ready?"
"Just about," Mannie told him.
"And Captain Hannah?"
"Will be down shortly."
"I see." Alberto turned to me. "And this gentleman?"
"Neil Mallory," I said. "I'm Hannah's new pilot. I'm going up with you, just to get the feel of things."
"Excellent." He shook hands rather formally then glanced at his watch. "I have things to discuss with Figueiredo. I'll be back in half an hour. I'll leave Sergeant Lima here. He'll be going with us."
He moved away, a brisk, competent figure and the sergeant opened the cabin door and got rid of the machine-guns and the briefcase.
I said to Mannie, "What's his story? He doesn't look the type for up-country work."
"Political influence as far as I understand it," Mannie said. "Said the wrong thing to some government minister or other in front of people. Something like that, anyway."
"He looks a good man to me."
"Oh, he's that all right. At least as far as the job is con-cerned, but I've never cared for the professional soldier as a type. They made the end justify the means too often for my liking." He wiped his hands on a rag and stood back. "Well, she's ready as she'll ever be. Better get Hannah."
I found him in the shower, leaning in the comer for support, head turned up into the spray. When he turned it off and stepped out, he tried to smile and only succeeded in looking worse than ever.
"I feel as if they've just dug me up. What happened last night?"
"You got drunk,"I
He thrashed about for a while, hands plucking at himself. As I leaned over him, his eyes opened. He stared up at me, a slight frown on his face and smiled.
"You new, Kid? Just out from England?"
"Something like that" I glanced at Mannie who made no sign.
"If you last a week you've got a chance." He grabbed me by the front of my flying jacket. "I'll give you a tip. Never cross the line alone under ten thousand feet, that's lesson number one."
"I'll remember that," I said.
"And the sun - watch the sun."
I think he was trying to say more but his head fell to one side and he passed out again.
I said, "He thought he was back on the Western Front."
Mannie nodded. "Always the same. Hopelessly trapped by the past."
He tucked the blankets in around Hannah's shoulders very carefully and I went into the living-room. It had stopped rain-ing and moisture, drawn by the heat, rose from the ground out-side like smoke.
It was still cool in the bedroom and I lay down and stared up at the ceiling, thinking about Sam Hannah, the man who had once had everything and now had nothing. And after a while, I drifted into sleep.
FIVE
The Killing Ground
Forte Franco must have been the sort of posting which to any career officer was equivalent of a sentence of death. A sign that he was finished. That there was no more to come. Because of this I had expected the kind of second-rater one usually found in command of up-river military posts; incapable of realizing his own inadequacies and permanently soured by his present misfortunes.
Colonel Albert¯ was not at all like that. I was helping Mannie get the Hayley ready to go when the launch came into the jetty and he disembarked. He was every inch the soldier in a well-tailored drill uniform, shining boots, black polished holster on his right thigh. Parade-ground smart and the face beneath the peaked cap was intelligent and firm although tinged with yellow as if he'd had jaundice which was a common enough complaint in the climate.
There were half a dozen soldiers in the boat, but only one accompanied him, a young sergeant as smartly turned-out as his colonel with a briefcase in one hand and a couple of machine-guns slung over one shoulder.
Alberto smiled pleasantly and spoke in quite excellent Eng-lish. "A fine morning, Senhor Sterne. Is everything ready?"
"Just about," Mannie told him.
"And Captain Hannah?"
"Will be down shortly."
"I see." Alberto turned to me. "And this gentleman?"
"Neil Mallory," I said. "I'm Hannah's new pilot. I'm going up with you, just to get the feel of things."
"Excellent." He shook hands rather formally then glanced at his watch. "I have things to discuss with Figueiredo. I'll be back in half an hour. I'll leave Sergeant Lima here. He'll be going with us."
He moved away, a brisk, competent figure and the sergeant opened the cabin door and got rid of the machine-guns and the briefcase.
I said to Mannie, "What's his story? He doesn't look the type for up-country work."
"Political influence as far as I understand it," Mannie said. "Said the wrong thing to some government minister or other in front of people. Something like that, anyway."
"He looks a good man to me."
"Oh, he's that all right. At least as far as the job is con-cerned, but I've never cared for the professional soldier as a type. They made the end justify the means too often for my liking." He wiped his hands on a rag and stood back. "Well, she's ready as she'll ever be. Better get Hannah."
I found him in the shower, leaning in the comer for support, head turned up into the spray. When he turned it off and stepped out, he tried to smile and only succeeded in looking worse than ever.
"I feel as if they've just dug me up. What happened last night?"
"You got drunk,"I
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