This angered the terrorist, who snapped back, "You did us no favors back there! You were only protecting your own worthless life. Our lives belong to Gonzalo. We were of no value to him in prison and if we had died, it would have made no difference. Dead, at least we would have been martyrs, feeding the legend of the truth and justice of our righteous cause without harming our fighting strength. Our blood would come to haunt the guilty and serve to bring forth strong new fighters. So stick to your word!"
Bolan gained some valuable information from the tirade. This guy had a thin skin where his cause was concerned. A weakness to be filed away for later use. "Keep your cool, amigo. I just want to know that you'll play fair with me."
Libertad was calm again, icily so. "Gringo, why don't you just tell us where the guns are and go about your business? Peru is not a safe place for you. We will arrange for payment, and then you will leave. You will hear from us about the next order."
"Man, you must take me for some kind of fool!" Bolan laughed loudly for emphasis, maintaining his character as a money-grubbing arms merchant. "Do you really think that I'll walk and leave you the goods? I'll never see a penny that way. If you're so trusting, give me my money, and when I'm safely out of this rat hole I'll wire you the location of the arms. How about that for a deal?"
Libertad waved, and two of the terrorists grabbed Stone by his arms and powered him over beside their leader.
Libertad drew a long knife and placed the point under the older man's chin. Stone looked as if he was about to faint, and only the strong hands holding each arm prevented him from crumpling to the ground.
"Unless you tell me now where the guns are, I will slit his throat and his blood will be at your feet."
Bolan frowned. The terrorist had instinctively hit on one of his few weaknesses, apparently knowing that Bolan would not let any harm come to the ex-professor if he could somehow prevent it. Or maybe Libertad was only bluffing.
"Go ahead. It still won't make me talk. But if you do, you'll be losing a valuable commodity someone who could patch you or your men up if we get into a jam. Besides, he was of some help to me in prison, so I'll trade you a case of M-16's for his life, insignificant as it is. So there's the deal. A case of guns if he lives, but absolutely nothing gained if he dies."
Libertad appeared to consider the offer. "Three cases," he responded.
"Two."
"All right, Blanski, two it is." He nodded to his men, who shoved Stone forward to sprawl at his feet. Without another word the terrorists marched toward the cabin.
"Are you okay, Stone?"
Stone spoke in a low voice, conscious of the half dozen men observing them. The terrorists weren't making any moves, but the two Americans were under a watchful guard. "I'll live. For a short while, that is. We have to make a break soon. Once you deliver the guns we'll be dead. The Path trusts no one, and you already know too much about them. They'll never let you live. Instead they'll find someone else to supply the arms, someone they can keep at arm's length. We have to get out of here!"
Bolan smiled grimly. "You're not telling me anything I don't already know. But we'll go when I'm ready. I have a surprise or two remaining."
A surprise, sure.
A nasty one.
14
The ancient truck chugged laboriously up the steep mountain slope, using every ounce of power remaining in its often-repaired engine.
Bolan sat listlessly, watching the countryside pass through the slats that ringed the bed. He rolled back and forth in a double line with the other fifteen men, concentrating on not being sick.
He was suffering the effects of soroche altitude sickness as the wheezing vehicle climbed the mountain pass that would eventually lead them to the broad valley that held Ayacucho, their destination.
Illness was attacking on all fronts, including dizziness, a splitting headache, a fever and stomach-curdling nausea.
The sickness had been alleviated somewhat by a soothing brew that Stone had made for him at the last stop. The tea had relieved his symptoms, yet had left him lethargic which was something of a blessing.
It would be quite easy to get excited over the traveling conditions. The road was narrow and badly maintained. In many spots it was barely as wide as the truck. The scenery was spectacular, a breathtaking series of chiseled peaks and valleys of long, waving grass, viewed from a road that clung to the side of the cliff like a ribbon spiraling up around a tree trunk. Sometimes a white-flecked mountain stream or waterfall could be seen hundreds of feet below.
The Peruvians were very possessive of their trucks and cars, and habitually gave them fancy names. This one was no exception, and the driver had named it "The Friend of Death." He and everyone else on the road drove in a manner that lived up to the name. It was not uncommon for the vehicle to rush head-on at another car or truck, until one or the other swung to the outside and the two vehicles passed together, one hugging the edge of the precipice.
Small white crosses marked the route at points where some drivers hadn't been as careful or lucky.
"This isn't as bad as it gets, Blanski," Stone had told him in an unsuccessful attempt to cheer him. "At some points on the other side of Ayacucho, the road is so narrow that the traffic passes in different directions depending on the day of the week. They use the same trails that were blazed in Inca times, narrow as they are."
Almost every roadside wall or smooth rock surface was defaced by some sort of political slogan, many of them by the local Communist party calling for an armed struggle. Most were by the Path, demanding death to the imperialists and their lackeys.
Even among the deserted highlands between the scattered villages, grim reminders of the constant political battles remained, fading gradually in the harsh sunlight.
Libertad had been surprised when Bolan informed him that the arms had been moved into the mountainous Andean district.
"What are you complaining about?" Bolan had responded when Libertad queried him. "It's a lot more convenient for you there than it would be in Lima. I know the score in your little war. Besides, I didn't want to hang around in Lima any longer than I had to. Some people I know there wouldn't have been too happy to see me, if you know what I mean."
"I can certainly understand that, Blanski." The unexpected news that the weapons weren't in Lima had sparked the terrorist's suspicions once more. "Particularly since there's a rumor floating around the underground that you might have helped yourself to the arms."
Bolan couldn't help being startled by this news.
"Don't look so surprised we have very accurate sources of information."
Bolan thought fast. He wasn't happy that the Peruvians had learned he was not exactly a well-established arms dealer. He also wondered at their source, since that information shouldn't have been available to anyone who wasn't familiar with the twisted relationship between McIntyre and Carrillo.
And both of them were dead. So who was putting the pieces together, and how? It pointed once again to some outside source pulling the strings a source with connections to the Shining Path.
"It doesn't matter how I got them. If I'm a thief, well, I'm your thief. I don't care about your politics, so don't you worry about my source of supply. All you have to know is that I can deliver what I promise and at a very competitive price."
"We'll see what you're capable of when we get to Ayacucho, won't we, Blanski?"
You don't know how right you are, pal, Bolan thought. "Right on, hombre. But I've got one more piece of news for you. Before I give you so much as a rifle bullet, I want to see your boss."
"That is out of the question. No one sees Gonzalo. You will have to deliver the arms as we agreed."
"No way, buddy. I don't need to talk to the guy, but I sure want to talk to someone more important than you. I didn't come all this way to get turned off like a brush salesman. No way. I'll talk to your council, or somebody in charge, but I'm going to go away with another sale, a bigger and better one. You guys have got a lot of potential demand for my services, and I aim to make you good customers of mine." Bolan was playing his part to the hilt, since an aggressive pursuit of a dirty arms deal would provide a perfect cover to get a little closer to the heartland of the terrorist organisation.