Chapter Seven
In another part of the Qualan jungle, not far from the coast, a group of five men stood crouched in a dense thicket of vines and vegetation.
"Where are they," Crane muttered. "They should have been here by now," he said as he checked his watch for the third time in the past minute.
"They'll be here, sir. They're probably just being careful," Kowalski said.
"You're right, I know. It's just... after all this time...I just want to get going. Find them. And make them pay."
Suddenly, a slight sound broke the stillness of the night. The men of the Seaview turned at the sound and raised their rifles in the direction of the noise.
"Hey! Easy there! We're friends. Put those things down," a voice said from the darkness.
"Come out in the open where we can see you," Crane called.
Two men dressed in ragged rebel rags came into the open. Both men were dark-skinned and appeared to be natives. Morton and Kowalski raised their rifles to cover the men.
"Easy man. We're friends," the leader said, raising his hands in front of him.
"You have a code name?" asked Crane.
"You really take this spy stuff seriously don't you?"
When he received no reply but a stony stare, the leader shrugged his shoulders and in a bored way said, "Chicago."
Kowalski and Morton lowered his rifles at the captain's impatient wave.
"I'm Captain Lee Crane of the Seaview. These are my men Commander Morton, Seamen Kowalski, Patterson and Barton.
"I know who you are, Captain. I really don't need a rundown of the names in your party. My name is Lombok. This is Trais," he said gesturing to his companion and moved off the trail and back into the shadows.
"We have some work to do and I suggest we get to it. We have a long road ahead of us and not much time to do it in. How much do you know?"
"Not much. Just that our men were captured at the peace talks and are being held somewhere on the mainland. We don't even know if they're still alive. Do you have any information on them? Are they alive?" Crane asked anxiously.
"Peace talks," Lombok said derisively. "They weren't peace talks, Captain. They were a diversionary tactic. A diversion that apparently worked. They got what they wanted."
"Which was?"
"Some of the best military and scientific minds in the world. All to further their cause."
"Which is?"
"To take control of the Qualan mainland. At whatever price. And from there to become a world power. All through intimidation."
"You never answered the captain's question," Morton spoke up for the first time.
Lombok looked away for a moment, then looked back at the captain.
"Are they alive? I don't know. The information I have been able to glean from others hasn't been encouraging. Malek is leaning pretty heavily on his guests. Several of the prisoners there have been killed already."
"Malek?" Crane asked. "Who is he?"
Lombok gave a little snort of derision. "The Devil, Captain. Malek is one of the most evil people you will ever hope not to meet. He is also in charge of the interrogations at the camp. Pity your people, Captain. Pity them, and hope they can hold out. If they are still alive," he said as he moved off down the trail.
Clenching his teeth in anger, Crane and the others followed him down the trail.
They followed the trail for a few minutes, then went off the track and walked through the jungle for about an hour before Lombok called a halt.
"We'll stop here. We should be safe," Lombok said as he sat down on the ground. "Sit gentlemen. We have to discuss our plans. Trais, scout around. Make sure we are alone."
As he moved off to do Lombok's bidding, Crane and the others sat.
"He doesn't talk much, does he?" Morton asked looking off into the jungle after Trais.
"Trais? He can't talk. He doesn't have a tongue. Malek took care of that. That's the only reason he is here. He wants revenge. He has bided his time playing the part of the loyal rebel to get close enough to Malek to make him pay."
"He'll have to stand in line," Kowalski said.
Lombok gave a short laugh then proceeded to lay out a map of the area.
"We are here," he said pointing to an area near the coast. "Your men and the encampment are here." He pointed to an area about 20 miles inland. "It is, conservatively, a two or three day walk, provided we run into no patrols or any other obstacles."
"Why so long for a 20 mile walk?" Morton asked.
"Have you ever walked through thick jungle, Commander? It isn't easy."
"Aren't there any roads?" Patterson asked.
"Of a sort, yes. However we want to have the element of surprise on our side. Any activity on the road will be a tip-off to our presence. Once we get your people, we will "borrow" a truck or two from the rebels and take your men out that way, as well as any of the others we can get out."
"Any idea how many are in that camp?" Crane asked.
With a frown Lombok looked up and said, "Not many. The numbers from what I understand have been dropping. Let's just say the cemetery is filling up."
Crane looked away, his face lined with worry. "Do you think there is something up? Some reason he's pushing so hard?"
"I have no idea. I haven't heard of any plans relating to the prisoners. Just that he is determined to get the answers he wants from them or..." Lombok trailed off.
"Or he kills them, right?" Crane said his voice rising in anger.
"I am afraid that is so, Captain. Slowly. However, since the camp is still there and there are still prisoners there, we can assume that not all of them have been cooperating with the good commander."
"Now, let me tell you my plan for getting your people out," Lombok said scanning his map.
