Free Survivalist - 12 - The Rebellion by Jerry Ahern Page A

in light. She could see the gun in his left hand dully gleaming, the gun in his right hand still in shadow. “I’ve got the truck, Dad.” It was Annie’s voice.
    It had been the blue pick-up, the one she had nearly been tied to to be drag hanged. It would be the camouflage-painted truck Annie drove now.
    “Get my bike and Natalia’s,” Rourke rasped. “Annie— do it quick. Sarah—”
    “Right.”
    Natalia saw a figure stepping beside Rourke—she saw Rourke’s body tense in silhouette and then the tension faded. It was the wiry frame of Kurinami backlit in the glare of the headlights, a pistol in his right hand. “I am here, Doctor Rourke. Elaine Halverson is with me.”
    “You and Dr. Halverson—get on the truck, back it up and keep the lights on the mob.”
    “Dr. Rourke—what the hell are you doing?” Dodd’s voice called out. “I can take charge here now!”
    “I’m going to Argentina, Captain—remember? Hmm? And I’m taking Natalia with me. And Sarah and Akiro and Elaine Halverson. And I won’t even insult your intelligence by mentioning what‘11 happen if anybody tries stopping us.”
    “This woman is a murderess.”
    “Yeah, Captain—and I’m your great-aunt Fanny and the Easter bunny’s gonna be here in ten minutes or so— hitched a ride with the tooth fairy on the back of a unicorn. Yeah, Paul and Michael will represent my interests here. And if you or anybody else takes any reprisals against them, then you’d better hope the people under Karamatsov get you—or I will. And just to keep you busy while I’m
    gone, why not look for the real murderer and find Karamatsov ‘s agent before Karamatsov comes back and you find out you’ve got an enemy outside and an enemy inside.”
    “You’ll be a wanted man, Doctor.”
    John Rourke simply laughed—Natalia was nearly beside him now, her legs still felt weak. And then—as she sagged toward him, his right arm reaching out to her, enfolding her, supporting her—John Rourke said to her, “I got Madison to round up your clothes. Sarah found your guns and put ‘em in the truck Annie was driving.”
    “John—I—you—you’ll be an outcast now.”
    “I was never anything else,” John Rourke whispered as she rested her head against his shoulder.
    She could hear Paul’s voice from the far side of the crowd—and she wanted to go to him, to kiss him. He was her dearest friend, someone she had shared secrets with. Paul said, “John, you guys do what you’ve gotta do in Argentina. I’ll find the murderer—and I’ll kill him.”
    Natalia looked up at John Rourke’s face, feeling his breath against her skin as Rourke whispered, “I know.”

Chapter Eleven
    Antonovitch was sorely tempted to reach to his hip and draw the Stechkin Mk 7 from its holster—but he did not. If he drew his pistol, it might make the men around him think that he was nervous or afraid.
    He kept walking, instead, slowly, looking from right to left and then behind him, his men forming a ragged wedge on both sides of him as they moved through the jungle.
    Scouts had confirmed what electronic surveillance had earlier indicated—that the surrounding area of habitation which ringed the mountain was unfortified except for guard towers at the four compass points. The mountain which was apparently the stronghold of the Nazi force seemed so well fortified that it would take firepower beyond that available from the helicopter force alone to penetrate it or destroy it.
    But Maj. Nicolai Antonovitch had to see for himself.
    He kept walking, slowly to avoid noise, the jungle heat surprisingly bearable and springlike seeming. He could remember jungles once teeming with wildlife, with birds and insects.
    But this one did not.
    Wild fruit grew in abundance. The foliage was ridiculously bright in its greenness.
    But there was no life—except for the sound he heard just ahead. He signaled his men to a halt with hand and
    arm movements.
    Now he drew his pistol—it had been the