I followed him and got into the jeep with a growing foreboding. The sun was low in the sky, fading rays dissolving into twilight. I hunched low in my seat, the flesh creeping on the back of my neck as if a gun was sighted on it. Now that Pilon knew I had read his diary, there was good chance he might try to keep me from getting back alive to Katanga. With the ruthlessness of the fanatic Pilon might feel he owed that much to "the great man" Chetzisky.
A mile from camp the trail broke out of the jungle onto a swaying suspension bridge across a deep gorge. The driver inched the jeep across. Looking down I felt nauseous; a fall and a man was a shredded pulp.
Half way across the span it happened. A rifle cracked. The air whined at my ear. The driver slumped stupidly against me and the jeep swerved crazily out of control. I leaped out on the bridge just as the jeep dropped into the gorge. I ran a few yards and hurled myself to the boards; a bullet whistled over me.
I was on my feet again. Another shot rang over. I thanked God for the sway of the bridge; it put the crimp in anyone's marksmanship.
I disappeared into the shelter of the jungle on the other side. The battle was joined; it was Pilon's life or mine. He couldn't let me live, and I couldn't let him. If I got away, he would get in touch with Chetzisky who probably wouldn't wait till the deadline to pull the switch.
Crouched in the brush, panting and slightly dizzy from unaccustomed exertion, I watched Pilon stalking across the bridge, rifle at the ready. My breath began to come easier and my head cleared.
He was across now. He moved into the trail, eyes straining into the shadows. For a moment I had the mad notion of rushing him until I realized in what poor condition my academic life had left me for any wrestling with an outdoor type like Pilon.
Instead I would lure him to the edge of the gorge. Disturbing the undergrowth to look for a stone would be suicide; the noise would attract his attention and fire. As a substitute missile I slipped off my wrist-watch, clipped my pen on the band, and lofted them across the trail into the brush near the gorge, praying they would make enough noise.
They did.