Two Graves

75

COLONEL SOUZA, HEARING THE GASP, SPUN AND FIXED his light on the soldier. The man clutched the heavy blade in his own hand, staring at it with an expression of sheer amazement, before folding slowly to the ground.

“Take cover!” said Pendergast, dropping to a crouch.

Souza staggered up against the wall while Pendergast probed the passage with his light, examining the walls, the ceilings, the dark cells and rotten doors. Tendrils of mist drifted through the tu

“Nossa Senhora,” the colonel whispered, turning to Pendergast, their gazes meeting. Once again he found himself disconcerted by those pale eyes, which seemed almost to shine in the dark. He could feel his lower lip trembling, and he struggled to suppress it. He could not think, not yet, of how badly he had failed in this mission. His son, Thiago, had said nothing—nothing—since the disaster. He couldn’t bring himself to meet the gaze of his son… but he could feel it. Yes, he could feel the pressure of the youth’s eyes, the fear and censure, against the back of his neck, as if it were a tangible thing.

Crouching there, waiting for he did not know what, having no idea what they could possibly do now, he saw Pendergast move, reach out, and touch his fallen soldier’s neck at the pulse. He waited a moment, then glanced over at the colonel with a faint shake of the head. It felt like another thrust of the knife. To lose these men, so many good men… but he couldn’t contemplate that now.

Pendergast gently removed the bloody knife from the soldier’s dead hand and examined it before sliding it into his own belt. Souza could see it was an old Nazi knife—an Eickhorn hewer—a heavy, thick blade, not easy to throw, but massive enough to split the breastbone on its way to the heart.

Again the colonel listened and again was surprised, even astonished, that he could neither hear nor see anything out there in the darkness. It was as if the knife had simply materialized in the man’s chest.

No one said anything. There was a moment of stasis, and then Pendergast cautiously rose, breaking the terrible spell. Motioning the remaining men to follow him, he continued down the tu

The tu

Still the tu

Soon they came to a circular chamber, a confluence of tu

As Pendergast was about to turn away, the colonel saw the thread give a sudden spin; at the same time, the beam of his flashlight, penetrating the murky water, picked up a faint blur.

“Watch out!” he shouted, as simultaneously a cry came from the soldier behind him—Thiago. The colonel spun around, swinging his light frantically, but Thiago had vanished into the water. There was a violent thrashing below the surface, which ended almost as suddenly as it began. The colonel staggered over to where the murky water was still swirling; his flashlight revealed something under the water, rising, rising… A form surfaced, a dark cloudy stain spreading out from its neck, staining the water.

“Meu filho!” the colonel cried, seizing the body. “Thiago! Meu filho!” He turned the body of his son over and with an inarticulate cry lifted it, horror-struck as the head flopped back, the throat cut to the bone, the eyes staring wide. “Bastardos!” he screamed, dropping the body and lifting his rifle, his vision clouded with rage. He let fly a blast on full automatic, aiming into the darkness and sweeping it around, firing crazily into the water. The other soldier panicked as well, backing up and firing his weapon into the miasmic darkness.

“Bastardos!” Souza screamed again.

“Enough,” Pendergast said, not loudly, but in a steel voice. “Stop.”

The colonel, feeling the cold grip of the man’s hand on his shoulder, came to a jerking halt. He was shaking all over. “My son,” he said in despair.

“He’s playing with us,” said Pendergast. “We’ve got to find a way out.”

“He?” the colonel cried. “Who is he? Who is this man?” He felt another rage take hold and he screamed into the darkness: “Who are you? Quem é você?”

Pendergast did not answer. He pointed to the last soldier. “You. Bring up the rear.” He turned back to the colonel. “Stay next to me. We must keep moving.”

Souza followed Pendergast down a tu

They continued on until they reached another confluence of tu

“Down!” he cried.

They threw themselves into the water as the explosion came, blasting down the tu

Pendergast pointed to a tu

“How do you know this is the way out?” the colonel gasped.

“It is the one without an echo,” came the murmured reply.

The water deepened, but a stone walkway soon appeared partway along the tu

“Agora eu esto satisfeito…” A voice came suddenly out of the mists, echoing, distorted, horrible.

The colonel dropped, turned, and fired almost without thought, a truncated burst cut off as his magazine emptied. He continued depressing the trigger, screaming, “Who’s there? Who is it?” His trembling voice echoed away among the mists.

The only reply was the single report of a gun out of the darkness; a brief flash of light; and the last of his soldiers dropped back into the water with a low gargling sound.

Pendergast crouched next to the colonel, using the stone quay as cover, his silvery eyes piercing the darkness.