Chapter 4
Hannibal clutched a cigar between his teeth and carried his military issue rifle in front of him. Sweat ran in rivulets down his forehead. It was hot. "Colonel," one of the men following him whispered. "We hit our objective. When are we going to go? Murdock's, gotta be waiting with the chopper by now."
"We leave when I finished the last phase of my plan, Lieutenant."
The achingly handsome youth behind Hannibal exchanged looks with his taller, scowling counterpart.
Hannibal knew something was wrong even before he approached the half-concealed hut. It was deserted feeling, lifeless, burnt. His heart did a flip.
"Stand guard you two." He barked, and moved to the broken door. He cast an eye over the area. Nothing. Deserted, destroyed.
"Shit," he whispered, knowing the truth, but not wanting to accept it. She'd been compromised. Discovered. Betrayed.… And that was it, her life snuffed out like a tea light in the rain. He checked the perimeter of the room for good measure, to see if there was something...anything...he may have missed. Nothing.
Hannibal swallowed the lump in his throat. There would be time for grief later. He touched his hand reverently against the battered, half torched wall; squared his shoulders and walked out.
"BA...Face," he barked. "We're done here."
Chopper blades nearly drowned out his words. BA looked up. "This ain't the rendezvous point."
Hannibal slapped his shoulder. "Yes it is, Sgt. All part of the plan. Face, bring the supplies."
The chopper had barely touched down before Face and BA were already inside. Hannibal took one last glance at the ruined hut and climbed in, catching the pilot's soft brown eyes as he did. They exchanged a silent look and Murdock mouthed "I'm sorry."
""Let's go, Captain!" Hannibal yelled above the rotors.
Murdock nodded and they lifted off. Hannibal silently watched Xua's hut become smaller and smaller, until it was only a brown dot, lost in the vastness of the jungle. He bid it goodbye and tried to put it in the ever-growing compartment in the back of his mind where all the other hundreds of casualties of war were stored.
Fini.