Stratton was beginning to understand some of the complications. They fascinated him. Louisa fascinated him. ‘What’s his story?’ Stratton asked.
‘Sebastian’s?’
‘He looks more like an aristocrat than a general.’
‘He comes from a long line of both.’
‘Did he fall out with Neravista?’
‘Most of the aristos in this country stand alongside Neravista. Sebastian is one of the few who went against him. Like many Latin American countries this one is ruled by the landowners. Most of the wealth and all of the power is controlled by a small group of people. By turning against Neravista, Sebastian was following a long line of noble rebels in his own family. His grandfather lost out in a rebellion against Franco in Spain before the Second World War. Sebastian doesn’t want that failure to run in the family.’ Victor checked his watch. ‘He wants to see you.’
Stratton looked at the Frenchman. ‘Why?’
‘Maybe he wants to talk you into staying. I don’t know. He’s more pragmatic than Louisa. When you’re in a fight, make friends with fighters, no matter what their motive.’
Stratton was getting bored with the endless insinuations that he fought only for money. But it was obvious that the rebels had fixed views about him and nothing was going to change them. He had no fears that Sebastian was going to talk him into staying, not even for another day. He was leaving the camp at the end of the day’s training and that was final. Even if it was dark by the time he left.
He was about to set off when Victor stopped him.
‘Tell me something. Be honest with me. Do we seem foolish to you?’
Stratton was not sure exactly what the Frenchman meant.
‘You must have come across people like us before. I would understand if you find us amusing.’
‘I’ve never done anything like this before.’
‘You don’t look new to this kind of work.’
‘What I mean is, I’ve never delivered arms to a bunch of freedom fighters before.’
‘What kind of things do mercenaries do these days?’
Once again Stratton ignored the label that Victor was trying to pin on him. ‘There’s nothing foolish about fighting for political change. It’s dying for it that doesn’t make any sense to me.’
Victor nodded. ‘Spoken like a true mercenary.’
Stratton shook his head wearily and walked off up the slope.
Sebastian was stroking the horse and speaking softly to it as Stratton arrived and stopped a few paces away.
‘What do you think of him . . . my horse?’ Sebastian asked.
‘It’s a beautiful animal.’
‘Are you familiar with horses?’
‘No.’
‘But you have instincts. You’re a warrior. That puts you closer than ordinary men to animals like this. Tell me what you see in him.’
Stratton studied the animal before stepping up to the fence and reaching out to touch it. The horse did not move as Stratton stroked its cheek.
‘Kindred spirits, as I said. He comes from warrior stock himself.’
The horse turned its head slightly to look at Stratton. It was a powerful and stalwart-looking beast. ‘I see pride. Dignity. He seems content.’
The old man nodded. ‘He’s a true white, as resolute as they come. There has always been a white in our family. Tradition is important, don’t you think?’
Stratton could agree with that. There was none in his family but he had learned the meaning of the word - the concept - while serving in the British military.
‘Tell me,’ Sebastian said. ‘Why have you chosen to stay here when your life is in danger?’
‘Because I was asked politely.’
Sebastian allowed himself a rare chuckle. ‘And the real reason?’
Stratton had to think about it for a moment. ‘To be honest, I don’t really know.’
‘Then examine what did not drive you away. Fear could not, because you’re unafraid. Self-interest was not enough. You came with Victor and his men to finish the job - so you are altruistic. You saved a stranger’s life, which makes you empathetic. Forgive the examination. I am interested in the instincts of animals but even more so in those of men. In times of confusion instincts are all we have to rely on . . . Have you seen much of the camp?’
‘Victor showed me some of it.’
‘You need to see it all. Louisa!’ Sebastian called out.
His daughter stepped out of a stall. Her expression went blank when she saw Stratton. ‘Yes, father?’ she said as she walked over to them.
‘Would you show our guest around? Give him a horse.’
Louisa did not look overjoyed at the prospect. If Sebastian noticed her lack of enthusiasm, he gave no sign and faced Stratton, looking him in the eye. ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ he said with true sincerity.
Stratton watched him head down the path towards the log cabins. The man was without doubt a member of a rare breed. Some people were born with an exceptional aura and Sebastian was one of them. He had begun and was now holding together a national rebellion by sheer force of will.
Louisa was looking at Stratton as if she’d won a booby prize.
‘I take it you don’t fancy being a tour guide today,’ he said.
‘You’re very intuitive.’
‘I’ve had enough compliments for one day, thanks.’
She gave him an insincere smile.
‘Maybe some other time,’ he said, turning away.
Louisa would have been happy to let him go but she was mindful of her father’s request. ‘Wait.’
Stratton did not respond.
‘Can I say something?’ she asked.
He slowed to a halt and looked around at her tiredly.
‘You’re my father’s guest. If he wants you to be shown around I will oblige him.’
‘Hey. Don’t put yourself out on my account.’ He continued down the slope.
‘Look . . .’ Louisa began. But Stratton was marching off at a stubborn pace. She gritted her teeth, turned away from him and stormed back to the stables.
Stratton worked on suppressing his annoyance. He could usually tolerate disrespect, choosing the diplomatic thick-skinned option that would prevent conflict and let him get on with the job. But every now and then bad manners and insults got to him. Louisa had managed to needle him more easily than another person might have and the reason for that was obvious enough. His ego had been chipped. She was beautiful and he wanted to be attractive to her but she saw him only as a lowlife.
Stratton decided that the best course of action was to avoid the woman altogether. She was only going to wind him up whenever they met. Staying out of her way for the next few hours should not be difficult.
He tried to focus his thoughts on the upcoming weapons training but Louisa had well and truly got under his skin. There was something about her that he could not shake. Stratton had avoided meaningful relationships with the opposite sex for years. It had been a rule of his, and her attitude should have made it easy to sustain. Having a love interest in his line of work was pointless. In his early days in the SBS he had had a girlfriend and there had been some great times but the difficulties and eventual heartbreak had not been worth it. The strains of maintaining a relationship when both parties were often apart for long periods only really became clear after he’d tried it. Sure, he was looking forward to getting home - but only because he didn’t want to be here. If he was offered another job by the time he got to Panama he would take it. And he wouldn’t have to make a difficult phone call to explain, in effect asking for permission not to come home until God only knew when. His pride might have taken a knock but he had to get on with the job in hand.
The sound of hooves thundered behind him and he turned to see Louisa charging his way on her horse with another one alongside her. She passed him in order to turn the snorting animals and bring them to a halt across his path.
She steadied the beasts, taking a moment to compose herself. ‘I was rude,’ she said. ‘It was unnecessary.’
Stratton knew he should have simply insisted that she forget the tour since he was leaving in a few hours but he couldn’t bring himself to.
‘After last night you had every reason to leave,’ Louisa continued. ‘You did not, which . . . it’s to your credit. My father wants you to stay and train the men. It was wrong of me to act the way I did.’
She had said her piece but without actually apologising. Stratton decided to hold out for it.
It was as if she had read his mind. She turned away so that he could not see her rolling her eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.
‘I couldn’t hear that,’ Stratton said. ‘What was that last thing you said?’
Louisa clenched her jaw and flashed her eyes at him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated, tersely.
He decided it was the best he was going to get and smiled victoriously at her.
‘Can you ride?’ she asked coldly. ‘This one’s a little feisty but she has a good spirit,’ she said, holding out the reins to him.
Stratton had been on horseback a few times in his life but he would not have described himself as a confident rider. He didn’t think in any case that a tour of the camp was essential. But he found that he was suddenly enjoying Louisa’s company in a weird kind of way.
‘I’m assuming you can sit in a saddle - but then, you don’t look the type to have been in the cavalry,’ Louisa said, clearly baiting him.
Stratton slung the M4 across his back, took the reins, held them fast on the saddle’s horn while he placed his boot into the stirrup and pulled himself up. He made the move successfully but sitting on a saddle felt alien immediately.
Louisa did not wait for him to settle in and she headed across the field at a trot. Before he could do anything his horse set off after her. Stratton was not in control of the animal but if it was happy to follow hers then he supposed that was good enough.
‘What were you talking about with my father?’ she asked as he came alongside her.
‘We were talking about instincts. He’s a perceptive man. I suppose that sort of thing can skip a generation.’
‘Oh? I also figured you were vulnerable to flattery,’ she said. ‘Starved of it, more like,’ she muttered, but loudly enough for him to hear.
Stratton wasn’t used to verbal jousting with a woman and immediately felt vulnerable. He decided to back off.
‘Did he ask you about your family history?’ Louisa asked.
Stratton grew cautious, aware that she was not done with him yet. ‘No.’
‘Your boss, Steel? He told Sebastian that his father fought with the Lincoln Brigade during the Spanish Civil War. It’s the sort of thing my father would respond to. I think Steel’s a liar. Don’t suppose
your
grand father was in the Spanish Civil War, by any chance?’
‘No, but I’m told my grandmother wore puttees and wanted to join the Gurkhas.’
Louisa looked at Stratton as if he were strange. He remained poker-faced. ‘I’m glad you have a sense of humour,’ she said as she spurred her horse into a canter. His animal followed automatically.
The ground sloped steeply away before them, providing a breathtaking view that stretched for miles. The jungle unfolded into the distance like a series of huge overlapping waves. Louisa’s horse eased into a spirited gallop down a slope covered in knee-length buffalo grass. Stratton’s beast responded in kind and they quickly reached a speed that was a new experience for him on horseback. He focused all his efforts on staying on the animal’s back. His only thought was that if the horse tripped they would both probably die.
Stratton leaned forward and gritted his teeth, remembering an old adage: the only way to deal with speed was to want to go faster.
Louisa’s ponytail came loose and her hair flowed behind her. She gradually became lost in the rush as she pushed her animal to the maximum.
The ground seemed to disappear a few hundred metres ahead, the jungle becoming visible again only in the far distance. Louisa eased her horse’s head to one side and they leaned into a wide turn. Stratton’s horse did the same. He was far from being at ease but a part of him was revelling in the experience. The power of the animal thundering beneath him was extraordinary. It conjured feelings of ancient warriors and what it must have been like to charge into battle on horseback.
Several rebels crossing the high ground stopped to watch the pair tearing across the landscape below them. David was among them and he called out to Victor, who came over to see what was going on.
Stratton expected, or at least hoped, that Louisa would slow down as they arrived at the edge of the dead ground but she suddenly turned her beast sharply to run along it. Stratton’s horse made the same adjustment, which he was very soon most thankful for, his heart skipping a beat when he realised why the animal had swerved. The dead ground was in fact the edge of a cliff. But it was not the last surprise that the young woman had in store for him.
Any enjoyment he had previously managed to get from the ride was replaced by fear as they galloped along the top of the precipice, barely metres from its edge. Louisa did not let up and seemed to be moving ever closer to the void as if trying to see how near to it she could ride. Stratton’s horse followed directly behind hers as if unable to think for itself.
The ground had levelled out, the cliff curving outwards in a gentle arc towards the jungle in the distance. An odd clump of bushes suddenly appeared up ahead a couple of metres from the cliff which Louisa passed on the cliff side. Stratton’s horse followed, cutting so close that the foliage clipped his foot. A quick glance revealed that his horse’s hooves were inches from the edge. Stratton tugged the opposite rein in an effort to turn the animal away but it had no effect. Yet another odd clump appeared up ahead, this time even closer to the cliff. To Stratton’s relief Louisa passed it on the outside. At least there was a limit to her risk-taking.
The good news was that they were closing on the point where the jungle met the cliff and the daredevil ride would have to head inland at least.