He carried a netted steel helmet in one hand. Another man stepped out of the darkness. "A problem, sergeant?"
"Mr. Shaw had a bit of a tumble."
"You Macklin?" asked Shaw, getting his breath back. A set of teeth gleamed brightly.
"Can't you tell?"
"Under that minstrel makeup you all look alike to me."
"Sorry about that."
"Have you accounted for your men?"
"All fourteen of us, sound and fit. Which is quite something for a jump in the dark."
"I'll need you to look for a portal into the hill. Some sign of excavation or depression in the earth. Begin at the base of the hill and work toward the summit on the north side."
Macklin turned to Bentley. "Sergeant, gather the men and have them form a search line ten feet apart."
"Yes, sir." Bentley took four steps and was swallowed up in the thicket.
"I was wondering," Macklin said idly.
"What?" asked Shaw.
"The Americans. How will they react when they find an armed force of Royal Marine paratroopers entrenched in upstate New York?"
"Hard to say. The Americans have a good sense of humor."
"They won't be laughing if we have to shoot a few of them."
"When was the last time?" Shaw muttered in thought.
"You mean since British men-at-arms invaded the United States?"
"Something like that."
"I believe it was in eighteen hundred and fourteen when Sir Edward Parkenham attacked New Orleans."
"We lost that one."
"The Yanks were angry because we burned Washington."
Suddenly they both tensed. They heard the roaring protest of a car engine as it was shifted into a lower gear. Then a pair of headlights turned off the nearby road onto the abandoned rail spur. Shaw and Macklin automatically dropped to a crouch and peered through the grass that grew on the lip of the ravine.
They watched the car bump over the uneven ground and come to a stop where the track bed disappeared under the slope of the hill. The engine went quiet and a man got out and walked in front of the headlights.
Shaw wondered what he would do when he met up with Pitt again. Should he kill the man? A hushed command to Macklin, even a hand signal, and Pitt would go down under a dozen knife thrusts from men who were trained in the art of silent murder.
Pitt stood for a long minute, staring up at the hill as if challenging it. He picked up a rock and threw it into the darkness of the slope. Then he turned and climbed back behind the steering wheel. The engine came to life and the car made a U-turn. Only when the taillights became dim red specks did Shaw and Macklin stand up.
"I thought for a moment that you were going to order me to snuff the beggar," said Macklin.
"The thought crossed my mind," reed Shaw. "No sense in prodding a hornet's nest. Things should get warm enough come daylight. "Who do you suppose he was?"
"That," said Shaw slowly, "was the enemy."
It was good to capture a moment of togetherness. Danielle looked radiant in a bareback dinner dress of green shadow-print silk chiffon. Her hair was center-parted and swept back with a comb of gilded flowers decorating one side. A gold spiral choker adorned her throat. The candlelight glinted in her eyes when she glanced across the table.