The Lotus Eaters

Quarters 39, Fort Williams, Balboa

He knew he would need an advantageous position. To that purpose, Chapayev first ran parallel to the road leading away from the house. His uniform was the legion's dark pixilated tiger stripes. Against the light beige house this would have stood out in the moons' glow. Against a background of jungle, it would be considerably less noticeable, essentially invisible, in fact.

About twenty meters past the house, he cut left, aiming himself toward the vehicle into the trunk of which the colonel's captors were attempting to stuff him.

Right, he thought as he padded across the soft grass, legitimate police don't stuff a prisoner into a trunk.

His pistol was lining up on the head of the captor nearest him when Victor thought, I need one prisoner, but only one. His finger stroked the trigger lightly, his pistol's muzzle flashed, and a man's head exploded in red mist and spraying bone. Chapayev rolled then, dropping from the view of the other two men as they turned to face the threat, for the moment forgetting Muñoz-Infantes. They, however, were looking in the wrong place. Victor was already almost behind them. He fired again, three rounds into the one, and then again, a single round, center of mass, into the other. Then he was on his feet, running again to stand next to a shocked driver. This one had time only to open his mouth is a surprised "O" before Victor put a single round through his head, just under his left eye.

He returned around to the back and began helping the colonel out of the trunk. "Maria! Call out the guard!"

"No!" the colonel said. "One of those people was mine!" His voice was rife with bewildered hurt. "One of my own men. Who could believe it?"

"Then we'll take you to the military academy. You'll be safe there."

"But those are just chi—" Muñoz began to object. "Ah. Yes, of course. And we must take Maria as well."

"Of course. Are you up to helping me move the bodies inside?"

"Sure," the colonel answered, "if you can get these handcuffs off of me."

Victor knelt on the bloody ground and began searching bodies until he found the key to the cuffs. "Thanks," the colonel said, once he was free. He then went and grabbed a corpse by the feet.

From the post golf course, helicopters began lifting. It was too dark to see in any detail, certainly too dark to make out the uniforms of the troops riding inside. Even so Muñoz knew his equipment and knew his own organization.

"Those are the frogs who got settled on us a little bit ago," the colonel said, as he dragged the corpse towards the house, a dark and wet looking trail staining the concrete behind it. "Where are they going?"

Victor's burden was moaning slightly. He paid the wounded man no attention as his eyes followed the navigational lights for a few moments. He answered, "They're going to the bridge over the Gatun River."

Muñoz dropped the legs of the body he'd been dragging. "To cut off troop movement, south to north?"

"That would be my guess."

"Then we're not going to the Academy; we're going to my headquarters. Maria!"

"Father?" asked the daughter, now standing framed by light in the doorway.

"Don't call out the guard, but bring me my pistol! And get my escopeta for yourself to guard Victor's prisoner."