The hands were elevated.
"Now kneel so that you cannot run away."
Trembling, the Juarezista knelt.
When that was done, Colonel Primitivo knelt, too. He laid his right lower leg across the lower limbs of his captive, pinioning them.
Then, holding his own weapon away out of reach with one hand, he employed the other to pat down the rebel.
He found softness where he expected the hardness of a jungle guerrillero, and when his hand felt around to the front of the khaki uniform blouse, he discovered the soft mounds of a female.
"What is your name!" he hissed.
"Lieutenant Balam."
"Hah! You are no stalking jaguar on this night, eh chica?"
"I am ready to die if necessary."
"And I am prepared to kill you. But I will give you a chance. Subcomandante Verapaz is abroad, here in this zone, on this very night. Tell me where he is and your life may be spared."
"I do not know the answer to your question."
He brought his lips to her ear and made his voice low. "I think you lie, chica. Do you lie to me?"
"No."
"Yes, you lie. Your breasts tremble in your blouse. I know how a woman's breasts tremble when she mouths untruths."
The Juarezista said nothing. She only trembled more.
"There is a village near here. Perhaps he hides there."
"No, he does not!"
"Hah! You are too quick with your answer."
And stripping off her ski mask by its pom-pom, he exposed a fear-drained face. Long black hair cascaded down. He took up a fall of it and brought it to his nostrils. Sniffing, he detected the scent of coconut.
"You smell good for a jungle girl. You use coconut milk for shampoo. It smells enticing."
With a sudden savage gesture he grabbed up a thick twist of lustrous hair and yanked the girl to her feet even as he came to his.
Placing the stubby snout of the H small of her back, he ordered her to march toward the village.
The guerrillera complied, her steps leaden and defeated.
"Go ahead and cry, chica. I think you will need a head start, because after this sad night, this entire jungle will weep because Colonel Mauricio Primitivo has come to visit the rebels."
"Cabron," she said thickly.
"Ah, Subcomandante Verapaz has taught you the proper curses of the city, I see."
"Chinga to madre!"
He laughed. "Perhaps later, you and I, we will do what you suggest. Without my mother."
After that the guerrillera was silent.
They walked steadily toward the smell of burned corn husks, Colonel Primitivo looking back every once in a while.
He saw nothing. Thus, he knew he was not being followed.
He was wrong. He was being followed. But what followed him could not be seen by ordinary eyes or defeated by ordinary arms.
Chapter 36
Remo Williams gestured to the Master of Sinanju to keep his distance.
They were coming up on the village they had smelled earlier. The Mexican colonel was taking his prisoner directly to it.
"This guy may be doing our work for us."
"As long as he takes no credit," said Chiun, "I will not mind."
"Wonder who the girl is."
"A wench who thinks she is a soldier. What manner of barbarians give a female killing weapons?"
"Women can do a lot of things men can do, Little Father," Remo said dryly. "Scientists discovered this just recently."
"That is not what I mean," Chiun hissed. "What idiot would place a dangerous boom stick into the hands of a creature whose moods swing with the waxing and waning moon?"
"You may have a point there, but right now I think the colonel's in no danger."
They moved on, slipping from tree to tree, becoming one with each bole they attached themselves to. Every time the colonel looked back-which was fairly often-he saw only unmoving trees.
Finally the colonel was tramping through the burned cornfield, making enough rustling sounds to awaken the village.
If that was his plan, he succeeded.
A sleepy head emerged from a shack with a thatched roof.
The colonel casually sighted across the shoulder of his captive and shot it to pieces.
A woman screamed inarticulately, and Remo said, "Damn it, Chiun! That guy was unarmed!"