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"Alone, General Bulls.h.i.t?"
"I'll be alone, you p.r.i.c.k!"
"I'll believe that when I see it.""One hour. You've got one hour to live!"
"Come on, d.i.c.khead. I'm so worried about it I think I'll take a nap."
Ben silenced Bateman's cussing by turning off the radio.
294.
Ben shifted locations about half a mile, to a large wooded area that seemed to run for a long ways, perhaps as many as four or five miles, taking in numerous hills and brushy country. Ben had no idea what else might be in that heavily forested area, but he had him an idea he was d.a.m.n sure going to find out.
He had no idea what direction Berman would be coming in, but he suspected it would be from the rear, if there was a road behind that wooded area. Or he might be coming in by chopper. Ben would just have to wait and see.
He fixed Mai a large container of water and opened several packets of food for her, placing it all in the rear compartment of the Hummer. Then Ben geared up.
He put on his body armor and then slung a rucksack of Fire-Frag grenades and full mags for his CAR over one shoulder. He checked his sidearm and clip pouch on his web belt.
295.
295.
Mai sat in the back of the Hummer and watched it all with interest. She made no attempt to leave the rear compartment. Someone, Ben concluded, had spent a lot of time and patience training this big dog. They had done a wonderful job, plus the dog certainly had a lot of intelligence for it to stick. Malamutes were not, Ben knew, the easiest animals to train. They were strong-willed and very independent.
Ben ate some crackers and cheese and made a pot of coffee. While the coffee was brewing he filled his canteen with water, then sat down and rolled a smoke and drank his coffee and relaxed for a time.
He waited fifteen minutes then stood up and slipped the Federal walkie-talkie into a pocket. He petted Mai and said, "You stay, girl.
I'll be back, and that's a promise. You stay here! Stay!"
Mai lay down and looked at him.
"Good girl. Good girl. Stay."
She licked his hand and Ben turned and walked off without looking back.
The Hummer was well concealed, and Ben didn't think any troops Berman brought with him-and he was sure Berman would do just that-would find the vehicle. Besides, Ben was going to be standing out in the open about a thousand or so yards from the Hummer, waiting for Berman to arrive.
He timed it just about right, and had Berman pegged as to how the mercenary commander would arrive. A few minutes after Ben got intoplace, he heard the heavy whacking of helicopter blades. He stepped further out into the clearing just as the chopper began a slow circling.
Ben pressed the talk b.u.t.ton on the walkie-talkie. "Berman, is that you, a.s.shole?"
"Coming in to kick your a.s.s, Raines. Got your will all made out?"
296.
Ben smiled and said, "How far does this stand of timber run?"
"Couple or three miles, and it's about a mile deep to the south. That the proving ground?"
"That's it."
"Suits me."
"Berman, I'm going to step back into the timber until you get your a.s.s out of that chopper and the chopper is airborne and out of sight."
"Don't you trust me, Raines?"
"h.e.l.l, no!"
"I do have honor."
"I doubt it."
"You son of a b.i.t.c.h! I gave my word I would come alone, and by G.o.d, I'm alone."
"You've probably got two or three companies of your men coming in from all directions," Ben told him. That was not said solely to needle him.
Ben firmly believed Berman was setting him up for the kill should he fail. Ben knew the mercenary had no intention of losing this fight.
"I do not!" Berman insisted just as the chopper was making its final approach before setting down in the clearing.
"We'll see. I'll be waiting just inside the timber. I'll step out when the chopper is clear."
"All right."
Ben stepped back into the timber and pulled on a pair of tight-fitting leather gloves. There was something he wanted to do before he and Berman started hunting each other with killing on their minds.
Moments later, the two middle-aged men met face-to-face for the first time in years. They stood staring at one another. Neither man offered to shake hands.
' 'You haven't changed that much," Berman said.' 'A few more lines in your face, more gray in your hair."
297.
297"Same with you-Berman. I'll stay with that name. I've gotten used to it."
"Suits me."
"That the name you want on your tombstone?"
"f.u.c.k you, Raines. I'll be the one burying you, you conceited a.s.shole!"
Ben popped him on the side of the jaw with a hard right fist that flattened the mercenary.
Ben waited, his CAR ready to bang. Berman shook his head to clear out the cobwebs and lay on the cool ground, staring hate at Ben.
"You got the b.a.l.l.s to stand up and go a few rounds with me, Berman?"
"You G.o.dd.a.m.n right I do, you lousy b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Berman pushed his weapon, an AK-47, away from him.
Ben propped his CAR against a tree and stepped back, shedding his battle harness, his rucksack, and web belt.
Berman stood up and took off his light backpack and batde harness. The two men faced each other.
"I should have killed you years back, Raines. After you left the Company and were writing your s.h.i.tty articles and cowboy books."
"Why didn't you make a try?"
"I was out of the country." Berman took a swing at Ben and Ben moved his head to one side a few inches, the punch just missing him.
"That the best you've got, you d.i.c.khead?" Ben smiled as he taunted the man.
Berman answered that by shooting a jab at Ben that connected. Ben backed up and shook his head. The jab hurt; Berman had power. Ben fired back with a left that Berman wasn't expecting, and the punch caught tihe man on the side of the jaw that rocked his head. Ben followed that with a right that Berman succeeded in only partly 298.
blocking. The deflected blow caught him in the upper face, on the cheekbone. Berman grunted at that and backed up.
Ben pressed the man, and Berman caught Ben in the belly with a hard right that hurt. Ben countered with a hard straight right to Berman's chest, right over the heart. Berman gasped and backed up, his fists over his face, trying to catch his breath from the heart-hurting blow.
Ben hammered the man in the belly widi lefts and rights, backing him up until he kicked out with a boot that caught Ben on the knee. Now it was Ben's turn to back up, favoring his painful knee.
Berman grinned. "That hurt, didn't it, you a.s.shole?" He pressed in. Bad mistake.
Ben antic.i.p.ated that, and put a little applied judo on the mercenary.Berman hit the ground on his back with such force it knocked the breath from him. Ben thought about kicking the man to death right then and there, then rejected the idea... for the time being, at least. He wanted to hammer on the mercenary commander for a few more minutes. The idea that he might get his own a.s.s whipped did not enter Ben's mind.
Berman slowly got about halfway up and Ben uncorked an uppercut that caught the man smack on his snout. Blood and snot went flying and Berman hit the ground again, on his back.
Berman glared up at Ben and cussed as Ben backed up. "Why don't you finish it while you've got the chance?" he gasped, blood leaking from his busted beak. "I d.a.m.n sure wouldn't give you any breaks."
"I know you wouldn't. And I should. But I want to hammer on you awhile longer."
Berman made a wild dive for Ben's legs and caught one, bringing Ben down to the ground. Ben kicked out, and his boot caught the mercenary on the shoulder and knocked him back.
299.
299.
Both men scrambled to their boots and stood facing each other for a few seconds. Blood was leaking from Berman's mouth and nose. Ben lifted his fists and Berman did the same. Then diey went at each other again.
"This is for Joan!" Berman shouted, taking a wild swing at Ben.
Ben ducked the swing and smashed a fist into Berman's belly. "I keep telling you, you p.r.i.c.k, I don't know any Joan." Ben shook his head in disgust. "You took this job just so you could kill me over a person I never met and never heard of? That makes you a fool."
Berman charged at Ben, both fists flailing the air. Ben sidestepped and hit him in the face with a right and then clubbed him on the back of the neck with a left.
Berman staggered and twisted around. Ben hit him again, with a left and a right to the face. Berman got wobbly in his knees and Ben pressed in, punching hard. He hit him half a dozen times before the man went down, his face b.l.o.o.d.y and swelling. This time, he did not even try to get up.
Ben backed up, studied the mercenary for a moment, and decided he was through for the time being. Ben peeled off his gloves. He slipped into his gear and picked up his CAR. Berman was still on his knees.
"I'll be waiting for you in the middle of diis timber," Ben told him.
"Then we'll see just how good a soldier you really are."
"Gonna kill you," Berman gasped.
"Wishful thinking, that's all. Just wishful thinking on your part."
Berman cussed him for a moment. Then he spat out blood and got to his boots. He swayed for a moment as he faced Ben. "I'll be along, Raines.
And I'll kill you."Ben shook his head and turned away. Then he heard a 300.
metallic click and spun around. Berman had drawn his pistol and had jacked a round into the chamber.
"Don't do it, Berman!" Ben told him, lifting the muzzle of his CAR.
"n.o.body whips me this way, Raines. Not and get away with it." He lifted the 9mm.
Ben shot him.
Berman jerked as the rounds tore into his chest. For a few seconds, he stayed upright, on his knees, a very puzzled look on his face.
"Maybe you didn't know Joan," Berman whispered as the pistol slipped from suddenly weak fingers.
"I didn't," Ben said. "I told you that."
"Raines? I got one more thing to tell you."
"What is it?"
"f.u.c.k you!" Berman said, and then he fell over dead.
301.
"This way!" Ben heard the faint shout coming from the clearing. "That wasn't an AK."
Ben looked down at Berman's body. "I knew you'd bring troops with you, you lying b.a.s.t.a.r.d." Ben knelt down and picked up the dead mercenary's small backpack. He knew instantly and without looking what was in it: grenades and extra mags for Berman's AK-47. Ben took it and the Russian-made AK Ben quickly headed deeper into the woods until coming to a rise of ground. Too small to be called a hill, it was still the high ground. Ben quickly climbed up to the crest of the rise and was delighted to see a natural trench running across the top of the rise. On the back side was the remains of a fallen tree. Ben began putting together a sort of barricade, using broken limbs and stones placed in front of the natural trench, which was about two and a half feet deep.
On his left side, there was a sheer drop off of about thirty feet; Berman's meres wouldn't be coming up that 302.
way. To his right, halfway down the small hill, was a partial clearing which offered scant cover, at best.
Ben got into place in the trench and behind his makeshift barricade and waited.
It wasn't long before he spotted the first of Berman's meres making their way cautiously through the thick brush and timber. He had Berman'sAK ready to bang. The round for the AK was a little less likely to be deflected by heavy brush.
"He's on that hill just up ahead," Ben heard a man call.
"What hill?" someone challenged. "Whole G.o.dd.a.m.n country is one hill after another."