CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
They were caught together in the early morning light; a frozen tableau. Her face registered shock at his move away from her; his, at the sight of a gun in his wife's hand.
She followed his wide-eyed stare. Sudden realisation made her look at the gun and she felt the air leave her lungs.
Instead of shooting him, as he obviously suspected she may do, she held the gun out to him.
Had he honestly thought she would shoot him? She watched as the tension drained from him. Not completely, but enough to reach out and take the offered gun, as he continued to stare at it, still locked in confusion at this turn of events. She spoke again, hurriedly now, and wary of their surroundings as her eyes flicked around the clearing. Musket had stilled once more, eyes on his master; noting the more relaxed stance.
"You should know. Koslov is not alone. There are two of them. So it's up to you. Join d'Artagnan and fight them together, or stay away and draw The Arab off.
"The Arab?"
"Believe me. You won't want to meet him. Koslov used me and this is not a fair fight. Believe it or not, I do not like injustice."
"That's the most hypocritical thing I have ever heard you say," he snarled.
"Damn you, Athos," she hissed, her anger rising. "You never believe me!"
"How can I?" he asked in exasperation. "What is your motive here?"
"Koslov murdered Michelin, my barrister," she said, suddenly spent. "I want him to pay for that."
Athos watched the emotions playing across her face as she warred with herself to remain aloof. He could not deny she looked momentarily bereft. In the six years of their acquaintance, the woman must have come to mean something to her; the manner of her passing fertile grounds for vengeance.
"I'll add it to my list," Athos replied, tucking the gun into the back of his waistband and taking the two rounds of ammunition she pulled from her jacket. "God knows, I am used to picking up your pieces," he added, before he could stop himself. Her appearance had unnerved him and he was himself, warring with his own emotions.
"Just remember, Athos," she said, cold as ice under the hot African sun. "The Arab and Koslov are out there; as are your friends. They will meet. Whether you are there or not, I don't care. We are done. Go back to your African dream." She turned and walked away from him, leaving him standing there, wondering who to believe and which way to go.
"How did Koslov know about you?" Athos called out.
She stopped and slowly turned, her face a mask now.
"I'm curious," he said, softly.
"He didn't know me," she replied. "But he may have known about Thomas," she replied. "Or, at least, Thomas knew some Russians. I heard him taking on the phone a few times."
"He spoke several languages," Athos acknowledged, covering his shock and wondering, not for the first time, if he had ever really known his brother.
"Why do did you fall in with Koslov?" Athos now asked her.
"He got me out," she replied simply. "And ..."
He waited ...
"He promised me diamonds," she shrugged.
"Of course he did," Athos sighed.
"Think of me what you like, Athos, but you don't have long. I gave Koslov two locations. False information. He is probably heading away from you. But not for long."
"I need to go back," Athos said, almost apologetically.
"As you wish," she said, gripping the strap of the rifle, held tightly on her shoulder. "That leaves Naaji."
She turned and ran.
He shouted after;
"Anne!"
Of course, she ignored him, and he let her go; torn and sick at heart.
"Damn you, woman," he murmured, as he raked his hands through his hair and tried to settle his thoughts.
He now had a gun, given to him by the most unlikely person. He half-heartedly wondered if he should check that the rounds she had given him were live, but then berated himself for the thought. He wanted to believe she had stalled Koslov, but time would tell. And, it seemed, he had precious little of that commodity left.
Still reeling, Athos headed back toward d'Artagnan.
He could not waste time hunting for Koslov while The Arab was around. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with, but if what Anne had said was true, she had split them up. It was a wise move, diverting their attention between their two groups may just work in their favour. He had no idea what would happen and he was desperately worried about Nkosi and shocked that Rach was with her now too, given his history. But he had to work with the information he now had; Aramis and Porthos were in the Delta and he could afford to divert to his original plan.
He would team up with d'Artagnan. They had done that before, when the Garrison was under siege and d'Artagnan had acquitted himself extremely well. But he was not a soldier and he held the key to Heshima's survival or destruction at these men's hands. He had to survive and Athos knew he was his best chance.
He waited until Anne was well out of sight before sending Musket off after her.
"Be careful," he murmured, not knowing if he intended the sentiment for his dog, or his wife.
He made it back to where he had left d'Artagnan and after a brief stop to survey the ground, he discovered that d'Artagnan had replicated the cairn he had himself made in the desert, an arrow scratched on the topmost rock, pointing in the direction Athos had told him they would be going.
"Not bad, for a vet," he whispered, a smile pulling at his lips.
Now, he felt stronger. His reconnaissance foray had paid off, in the end, despite it being somewhat surreal.
He only hoped that this day would go their way, for all their sakes.
oOo
Earlier:
When d'Artagnan had woken from his brief sleep, Athos was gone.
At first, he thought he had gone for water, but when he did not return, then their conversations ran through his mind and he realised that Athos had, in all probability, gone to draw Koslov away.
"We will make for the tree house," Athos had said when they first arrived back in the Delta, and he had; walking slowly and quietly, he had found a safe place to spend the night; climbing to the top of an acacia tree, and digging in between the thick branches and wondering where Athos would be bedding down. At least he had the bows and the sheath of arrows, but Athos had nothing. Dawn had not come quick enough.
Finally, mid-morning, the tree house came into view.
He flipped the combination lock and freed the gate of the metal fence that encircled the trunk, before climbing the steps that Porthos had constructed earlier that year, when Athos had been unable to use the original rope ladder because of his injury.
He flipped the lever from underneath that released the hatch and pushed it open, letting it come to a vertical rest against the body of the tree house, before climbing up.
Dropping his bag, the bows and the arrows on the walkway, he sank down, with his back to the wooden logs that made up the walls of Athos's sanctuary and stared out over the vista of the lagoons. The sun was high now, reflecting of the blue water. Herds had gathered to drink and all seemed well. It really was beautiful up here, after the arid desert they had crossed. He wished he could appreciate it fully, but now, he did not know what to do.
Drawing his knees up to his chest, he pushed his hair from his face with both hands and sighed.
He trusted Athos implicitly but what if Athos didn't make it?
They knew Koslov had been picked up by someone after the plane went down; would they go to the Garrison? Or had they been watching them from the beginning, keeping one step ahead. He had certainly felt as though they were being watched over the last few days.
But Athos had decided their final destination and he was here now, so he decided to stay where he was, rather than wander around the Delta with a bow and some poisoned arrows. He settled on the walkway, sitting cross legged now, his back to the wall, his eyes continuing to scan the land below, looking for movement; friend or foe. His hand gripped the bow at his side. Now, he was glad to have poisoned arrows.
He only hoped his aim would be true when the time came.
To be continued ...