Free The Hamlet Warning by Leonard Sanders

up to take part. There also was the threat of the recoilless rifle.
    Loomis remembered the advice of a general long dead: if you’re ever in doubt between two courses of action, they’re probably both wrong; think up something else.
    He stepped down from the car and took Rodríguez to one side. “I figure Ramón’s got us blocked fore and aft,” he said. “We can’t risk a pitched fight. Not with the family. We can’t get help here in time. Not at night. We’ll have to do the unexpected. I’ll take the family straight into the woods. You can keep Ramón busy about thirty minutes, then pull in behind me. You know the location of the old Navárez Plantation?”
    “Roughly.”
    “I figure it’s about six miles from here. I’ll radio and get some birds in there to dust off at daylight with the family. By then, we should have help by highway from either Santo Domingo or La Vega. We’ll turn back on Ramón, and our relief will be behind him. Maybe we can sandwich him like he’s trying to sandwich us.”
    “Beautiful,” Rodríguez said.
    “I’ll take six men with me, if you’re agreeable,” Loomis said. “Along with your radioman and a couple of Minimis. If we run into anything, we’ll lay down a barrage, and you can come running.”
    The De la Torre family huddled in the ditch behind the Olds. Loomis squatted beside them while he waited for Rodríguez to send the soldiers. The light from the burning armored car had faded, but Loomis could see Rodríguez running along the far side of the road, positioning his men. The firing was now scattered.
    “We’re moving into the forest,” Loomis told De la Torre. “We could probably hold out here until help comes, but I don’t want to risk it. There’s a clearing about six miles from here. We’ll have helicopters waiting there.”
    De la Torre nodded. His eyes showed concern, but no fear. Behind him, María Elena and Raul were nestled together, their arms around each other. Juana was holding the younger children flat, protecting them with her body.
    When the soldiers assigned to point reported to him, Loomis gave them instructions to move out and break trail, with the heavy-weapons men flanking. He told them that if they made no contact after two or three hundred yards, they could risk flashlights held low to the ground.
    “And you stick with me like glue,” he told the radioman.
    Rodríguez and his men opened a diversionary barrage, and the soldiers trotted into the woods. Loomis waited with the family until the soldiers disappeared. He figured that if Ramón had them flanked, the perimeter would be less than a hundred yards. When the soldiers apparently met no opposition, Loomis followed with the family, carrying the younger boy piggyback. De la Torre carried Nina.
    Loomis let the soldiers stay well out in front, the faint glow of their hooded flashlights barely visible. The radioman, Loomis, and the boy led the second group, with María Elena, Juana, and the maid in the center. Raul, De la Torre, and the girl followed. Three soldiers lingered back as rear guard.
    Once they were away from the road, and their eyes became accustomed to the night, they made good time. Although the quarter-moon was low on the horizon behind them, the sky was cloudless, and enough starlight penetrated the trees to distinguish shapes. There was no wind. Despite the relative coolness of the night, they soon were sweating from the exertion. Loomis stuck his extra ammo into his belt, peeled off his light jacket, and threw it away. As they moved farther from the road, the ground became more level, but fallen limbs and underbrush made footing difficult.
    A little more than a mile out, Loomis called a halt. He handed the boy to Juana and knelt by the radioman. Through army headquarters in Santo Domingo, he managed a telephone link to Bedoya at the palacio . He switched to English.
    “Listen, Squirt, I’m in a jam,” he said. “Ramón hit us in force.”
    For once, Bedoya seemed