Chapter 23: These Fragments
Sag complained about his leg, which I suppose he sprained or twisted or something during our slightly imperfect landing. He didn't see any reason why we shouldn't just high-tail it out of Peru, given what we'd just been through.
"The boss is dead, mate. Where's our quid gonna come from? I say we make tracks."
I didn't make eye contact or even turn around as I continued following the trail left by the surviving Shining Path members. "Two reasons. Number one, we need to get Paul back because he's got our money locked up in the US, or did you forget about that? Second, we owe it to Mr. Quispe to save his son--a life for a life. We came here to do a job, and we may have failed in protecting Mr. Quispe, but that doesn't mean we can just shirk our responsibility to his family now."
He didn't argue further, so either he planned to ditch me at the earliest opportunity or I'd guilted him into submission. He quickly changed the subject. "How is it you're tailin' 'em? I don't even see any tracks." Indeed, night had fallen in the valley, and only moonlight illuminated our journey. Since the open plains were frequently broken by forests of varying density, our supply of light came and went as we walked. None of this was new to me, but I think Sag had hoped for a much more relaxing first assignment in his new life as a gun-for-hire.
Oh, but I hadn't answered his question. "I have my ways. They make depressions in the grass and dirt as they walk. I am following them."
"I can't even see them--or their so-called 'depressions.'"
"Trust me, they're there," I assured him, my eyes focused on the ground ahead. Since it didn't require a lot of direct concentration to follow the trail, I spent my brainpower piecing together whatever their plan must have been.
I assumed their intention was to capture the three of us at some point during the flight, a plan that went awry the moment I took action. Either they meant to land in Cuzco as originally scheduled, or they would divert the plane elsewhere. Since both of those options were off the table at this point, they had to be working from a contingency plan, or were making one up at that very moment. They traveled in more or less a straight line, so one of them probably had a compass and they were moving in that direction for a reason. I expected we weren't far from their home turf, which gave them an advantage. Their movements took them north by northwest, so I ran through whatever landmarks I had in my database that would exist in this time period. Pretty much the only location of interest nearby was Machu Picchu. There were some small villages in between--emphasis on small, and none of them seemed likely spots for a Shining Path hideaway. Too open, too exposed. The Sacred Valley itself seemed an unsuitable hiding place. The Andes that surrounded it, however--perfect for a hidden camp. The fog that often descended on the mountains would shroud their movements. Still, I had my doubts anyone would use Machu Picchu as a hideout, if only because it was such a tourist trap. Way too obvious and well-known to be a clandestine encampment.
Nevertheless, that was the direction the tracks took me. The two of us walked for hours in silence--I had to listen carefully for Sag's footsteps rustling the grass to ensure he was still with me. We passed the odd cottage here and there, walked around some crops of quinoa to avoid making too much noise (and to escape the attention of any farmers that might be watching), hopefully making our way closer to a destination.
By this point, Sag no longer carried his duffel bag on his back, but rather dragged it behind him by the strap. "Could you pick that thing up? We don't need to announce to the entire valley that we're here," I scolded.
"Sir, yes, sir," he responded with contempt, slinging his bag over his shoulder again. We trekked ever on through the night, and I admit I began to admire the stamina of those revolutionaries. No doubt they hadn't planned to take such a walk tonight, but they did it and managed to stay far enough ahead that I'd lost sight of them. Their trail remained fresh, but would fade if we stopped to rest. A faint trail was much harder to pick up with my cybernetic vision, and I didn't want to risk leading us the wrong way.
The Urubamba River to our right gleamed in the moonlight as we traveled. The river twisted and turned, generally heading northwest, but taking plenty of detours along the way. For whatever reason, our quarries followed it quite closely, reinforcing my suspicion they had no backup plan other than "get back to base." We would be led straight to the Inca ruins, if my suspicions bore out.
Once again, I questioned the wisdom of such a move, but who was I to judge? I didn't know exactly what they fought for or why--for the moment, we were simply enemies as a matter of circumstance. Not like I cared what they stood for. I'm sure they felt justified in their own way. They just happened to hold two people I felt responsible enough for to try and rescue.
"I think we're close," I said quietly, opening up my bag to draw out my M16.
Sag did likewise without additional prompting. "How do you know?"
My eyes followed their trail up into the mountains. There was no mistaking it now. "They're hiding in or near Machu Picchu."
"Okay, that still doesn't tell me how you know this."
I finally stopped, turned, and met his gaze. "Trust me. If I'm wrong, we'll find nothing and you can say 'I told you so' and we'll have a good laugh. Until then, just be quiet and ready to shoot anything that jumps out at us. Got it?"
He nodded. I think he was learning not to test me. He got a taste of my abilities aboard the jet, and that was a close-quarters firefight with little coordination and chaotic momentum. An infiltration was more my style, and that's exactly what we were leading up to, or so I hoped.
We began our climb into the mountains in earnest, my eyes never losing sight of the trail, which became more erratic and sluggish as we went. Fatigue had set in, and I started to wonder if Sag was going to make it, given his leg issues.
He answered that question a moment later, when I heard him groaning. Not his typical whiny groan, but a genuinely pained noise, and he clutched the hell out of his thigh.
"Goddamn," he muttered. "I'm sorry, mate, but I just can't hack this."
Loathe to just abandon him in the middle of nowhere, I scoped out the scenery. We'd made enough distance up the hill that I could see various pockets of forest, and a ruin at the end of a zig-zagging road, situated about a thousand yards from the base of the hill. I pointed. "There's a building down there, by that weird road. If you really can't keep up, just go wait there. I'll come back for you. And if I don't... well, just go home, I guess. I'll most likely be dead."
"Always the optimist, eh? But I haven't come this far just to ditch you. Let's keep on."
I sighed. "Either way, the offer's open." We resumed our climb, and I didn't hear any more complaints out of Sag. My annoyance with him gave way to concern that he might become a liability. If he couldn't keep his wits about him, was distracted by pain, he could easily be a detriment. Nothing personal, mind you, that's just how these things work sometimes.
I kept that in mind while continuing to follow the trail. Wouldn't you know it, it led right into a dark tunnel, obscured by shadows and not on any map of Machu Picchu that I had in my database. So, it couldn't have been a well-known route, and more importantly, I'd have to go in with no idea of the layout.
"I think this is it, Sag."
"Christ. That thing's too narrow for a person!"
True, it looked that way, but I found I could just barely squeeze my shoulders into it. "I think we'll be fine. Let's go."
It did concern me that the close quarters made us sitting ducks, and aiming would be difficult to impossible with such limited movement potential. But really, what other choice did we have? Into the darkness, or rather, the darker darkness.
Chapter 23
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