Read 1979 - A Can of Worms for Free Online Page A

belly with all my weight behind it. His breath came out of him with the hiss of a punctured tyre and he went down on his knees. As he was trying to drag air into his empty lungs, I chopped down hard on the back of his neck. He flattened out, face down.
    I went quickly to the tent and peered inside. There were two beds, well separated, a canvas washbasin on a collapsible stand and a folding table. On one side of the table were a woman’s things: a hairbrush, comb, toothbrush, scent spray and face powder. On the other side of the table were his things: a toothbrush, mug, cigarettes and a cheap lighter.
    I looked back at him. He was moving. I went over to the rifle, picked it up, then squatted away from him and waited.
    He came slowly alive, pushed himself onto his knees, and then hauled himself upright. His hand massaged the back of his neck as he glared at me.
    “Let’s be friendly,” I said, and stood up. I was watching him closely. There was a dangerous gleam in his slate-grey eyes.
    “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “And cut that crap about Blackbeard’s cave. What do you want?”
    “Let’s say I’m looking for some peace and quiet — like you,” I said, and smiled at him. “These islands are great if a guy wants to drop out of sight until the climate cools.”
    His eyes narrowed.
    “What are you . . . a deserter?”
    “Let’s just say I’m looking for peace and quiet,” I said. “If you’re on the same wagon, then maybe I could confide in you. Are you?”
    He hesitated, then shrugged.
    “I kicked the Army six months ago. I’ve had enough of that bull.”
    I was sure he was lying. He hadn’t the stamp of an Army man. After serving three years as an M.P., I knew an ex-Army man when I saw him.
    “Well, you have a nice spot here: nice tent. Are you aiming to stay long?”
    “As long as it suits me. There’s no room here for you. Go find another island.”
    I was thinking about the woman’s things I had seen in the tent. Was there a woman on the island with him or were those Nancy’s things?
    “Okay,” I said. “I like company, but if you don’t want me around . . .” I shrugged. “I guess I’ll look elsewhere. Good luck, soldier,” and I walked over to the shrub where I had hidden, and picked up my holdall.
    “How did you get here?” he demanded.
    “The same way as you did.” I gave him a wave, then started along the path back to my boat.
    I hadn’t been walking for more than three or four minutes when I heard him following me. He hadn’t had jungle training, but he wasn’t too bad. If I hadn’t been alert, I wouldn’t have known he was following me. I kept on until I reached the boat. I knew he was within a few yards of me, but he didn’t break cover. He was just making sure I left.
    I got in the boat, cast loose, started the outboard engine and headed back down the long, dark tunnel to the sea. I was sure he would watch me out of sight, so I headed back to the mainland, then when the islands disappeared below the horizon, I altered course and made for Matecumbe Key. I tied up in the small harbour, crossed the quay to a fisherman’s bar.
    The negro barkeep regarded me, surprise in his black eyes, then his lips peeled off in a big grin.
    “Thought I was back in the Army, boss,” he said. “That jungle outfit sure brings back memories.”
    The bar was empty except for him and myself. I climbed onto a stool.
    “Beer.”
    He uncapped a bottle and poured. I had a thirst that would slay a camel. I drank the beer, pushed the empty glass towards him and lit a cigarette.
    “I’ve been looking at the pirates’ islands,” I said. “This outfit is right for those jungles.”
    “You can say that again.” He poured another beer.
    “Nothing out there but birds. The Indians used to live there. That was before my time. No one there now.”
    “Have a beer.”
    “Too early for me, boss, but thanks.”
    I looked at my watch. It was a little after eleven.
    “Anyway I can hire