Monkey Wars (20 page)

“I see,” said Mico.

“You have his ear. Everyone knows how much he trusts you. If you could explain, I'm sure he'd understand.”

Mico said nothing; he felt his stomach knot, because Gu-Nah's proposition had just made his life impossibly complicated.

If he wanted to protect the langur, Mico simply had to talk to Tyrell and get the new training approved. Gu-Nah knew his stuff and would no doubt deliver more effective fighters. But better langur fighters would mean more rhesus blood on the streets, and an escalation of hatred.

On the other hand, if he didn't help Gu-Nah, langur patrols would carry on using outmoded tactics, suffer more defeats; and defeats meant death. Breri had had a lucky escape. How many more ambushes could he survive?

This was a side of espionage that Mico hadn't bargained on. He had imagined it would simply be about passing information to save lives. Now he was being forced to make a hard choice: langur blood or rhesus blood?

Whatever Mico did next, someone was going to die.

T
rumble and Kima were delighted to have their family together again, even if it was just for a short time. Kima fussed as she piled up a fantastic mound of fruit, while Trumble took great pleasure in grooming his sons as he caught up with all the latest news. Everything had to be just right for Breri's special day—he had chosen a mate, Bandha, and today was her introduction to the family group.

For Mico, being back in his old home came as a welcome relief from the complications of life at the top of the troop. For one precious afternoon, he could immerse himself in the innocence of his childhood. Just the smell of the place brought back memories of a time when he didn't have to analyze every decision.

“She's here! She's here!” Kima's excited voice called out as Breri ushered in his mate.

Bandha was a small monkey with a pleasant, open face, but there was a steeliness about her eyes that reminded Mico of his mother.

As they started to eat, Kima could barely contain her excitement at having a new female in the family; she had spent so much time managing the competing egos of three males that she now reached out to Bandha like a lifeline, and it wasn't long before the two of them started to maneuver. Everyone knew how much Breri loved being in the elites and it was unthinkable that he would voluntarily step away from the sharp end of battle, but the two females had other plans.

“He's already been wounded twice, you know,” said Kima. “No one can say you haven't done your duty, Breri, but perhaps it's time to let others do their bit.”

Bandha proudly stroked his face. “There never was a braver elite.”

“Oh, I'm just warming up,” Breri boasted.

“But you need to think of Bandha now,” Kima reminded him.

“I hear there are great opportunities in Central Command,” Bandha added seamlessly.

“Exactly!” smiled Kima.

Breri blinked, trying to take everything in. His mind turned over this new idea that he was a distinguished veteran who deserved great rewards. Both females could see him considering it; perhaps just a little help was needed.

“What do you think, Mico? Could it be arranged?” asked Kima.

All eyes turned to Mico.

“Well…I could put in a word,” he said evasively.

“There you are!” cried Kima. “Anything's possible. If Mico says so, it's as good as done!”

Mico marveled at the willfulness of Kima and Bandha; in their own quiet way, they were as forceful as the roots of a banyan tree, slowly drilling into the hard earth until they had a tight grip on the soil.

Breri puffed himself up, relishing their admiration, accepting their praise. “I suppose I do have a lot to offer,” he pronounced.

“And with such a beautiful mate it won't be long before there are little mouths to feed,” said Kima, unable to resist, and everyone laughed.

Bandha turned to Mico with genuine gratitude. “Thank you. It would mean so much.”

“It's nothing.” Mico smiled and tucked into an orange. Despite all the family politics, there was no doubting the love these monkeys felt toward him. They needed him; they respected him. Mico looked at his mother and father; they were so proud to be nurturing their sons—it made sense of their lives.

And then came the ugly stab of guilt—at the very time his family were looking to him to keep them safe, Mico was aiding the enemy. An enemy that didn't even appreciate what he was trying to do. Mico's fur bristled as he remembered the hostility and suspicion the rhesus had heaped on him at their last encounter.

And in that instant, sitting on the floor of his old family home, Mico made up his mind—he did not want langur blood on his hands, least of all his brother's. He had warned the rhesus to rein in their resistance. If they wouldn't listen, that was their concern.

The last thing Gu-Nah was expecting in the middle of the night was a visit from the colonel.

“I've been thinking about your proposal,” Mico said as he entered Gu-Nah's modest quarters.

“And?”

“And I want to know more.”

A relieved smile broke across Gu-Nah's face and all thoughts of sleep vanished as the two monkeys made themselves comfortable around a mound of pine nuts.

By the time dawn broke, Gu-Nah had explained not just the details of his new fighting techniques, but the whole philosophy behind them. The more Mico heard, the more he was impressed.

The tricky thing would be convincing Tyrell.

“Discipline and courage are all that's needed,” said Tyrell dismissively.

“I understand, my lord, but these new tactics the resistance are using force our hand,” countered Mico as diplomatically as he could. “If we have to fight them in dark alleys, we have to train in dark alleys, so the first thing we need to do is create a dedicated practice area.”

Tyrell nodded, reluctantly acknowledging the point.

“The resistance lie in wait for us. It's as if they know the routes of our street patrols.” Guilt welled up inside Mico as he spoke, knowing that it was
he
who had passed this very information to the rhesus.

Steeling his will, Mico pressed on. “But if each patrol commander was allowed to
alter
his route, the enemy wouldn't know when or where to ambush us.”

Tyrell shook his head. “You see, this is precisely what I don't like. Orders come from Central Command. I don't want street patrols making decisions. Give them power, you get chaos.”

“You wouldn't be giving them power; you'd be giving them tools.” Mico was determined to get to the end of his speech. “The resistance fighters hide in the shadows, luring us into their traps, so we need to come at them from unexpected directions.”

He tossed a coil of vine on the floor.

“If each patrol was equipped with vines, they could attack from above, even when there are no trees.”

Tyrell picked up the vine rope and examined it. “This I like.”

“That's just the start. Gu-Nah has found a stall in the city where we can acquire pots of fire.”

Tyrell instinctively drew back—no animal played with fire—but Mico had anticipated this. “Fire can do to the resistance what bees did to the bonnets.”

“Fire is death.”

“Not if we train with it. Learn from it.”

“Do you want the whole city to burn?!”

“We just need the smoke, my lord.”

Tyrell hesitated. “You can't have one without the other.”

“But the pots that Gu-Nah has found hold the fire safely. If you feed the pot with green leaves, you get clouds of smoke. With smoke, we can flush our enemies from their hiding places.”

Mico could see Tyrell's mind working, calculating the risks and weighing them against the glory that success would bring.

“Very well. I'll allow Gu-Nah to start his new training regime. But”—a hardness flashed into his eyes—“I'm holding
you
to account. If you lose control of the fire, if you bring disaster to us…”

He didn't need to finish the sentence. Mico understood perfectly—if things went wrong he would take the blame; but if they went right, Tyrell would take the credit.

Wasn't that what it meant to serve a master?

Mico and Gu-Nah wasted no time putting their plans into action. A derelict street near the Eastern Province was found and the elites cleared it of all the rats and feral dogs. This would be the langur's special training ground for street warfare. A few days later a fire pot was stolen and a special unit assigned to guard it and keep it fed with leaves.

The moment they started field trials, though, things became difficult.

Langurs lived and breathed battle, but it was combat of the massed army. Footsoldiers showed total obedience to their commanding officers, and in battle after battle this discipline had given them the crucial advantage. Now Mico and Gu-Nah were trying to get their soldiers to unlearn all this. Faced with an ambush, they needed individual soldiers to make their own judgments without waiting for orders.

Gu-Nah and Mico staged exercises, each one designed to teach the soldiers to think for themselves, assess a situation, react to it quickly. But time and again the soldiers—whose instinct to obey orders was deeply ingrained—were outwitted.

Hoping to expand the soldiers' minds, Mico and Gu-Nah started working with the smoke pot. They positioned it in one of the dilapidated buildings and ordered the troops to creep in, overcome the enemy guards and steal the pot. Once the attack squad was inside the building, though, Mico added masses of damp, green palm shoots to the fire, making it belch out thick clouds of white smoke.

In no time a pungent fug filled the whole building, engulfing everything, including the attack squad.

Mico had hoped the troops would turn the poor visibility to their advantage, using it as extra cover. But instead, as soon as the soldiers lost visual contact with their commanding officer, they all froze. It was as if someone had just turned them off.

When the smoke cleared, Mico found the soldiers crouched silently on the floor, waiting for orders.

Strangely, Lord Tyrell seemed unconcerned at the slow progress of the new training. In secret, he took perverse pleasure from the fact that his monkeys were unable to think for themselves, but he was impressed by Mico's initiative and hard work.

That they were both small monkeys who had used their brains to climb to power only strengthened the feeling of kinship. Tyrell now saw himself as a kind of father figure to Mico, protecting and guiding his protégé.

Trusting anyone was a strange experience for Tyrell. Whereas in the past he had always believed that his strength came from self-reliance, now he discovered a whole new sense of empowerment through trust in Mico. He started to feel that between them, they could conquer the world, and to show his appreciation, he heaped rewards on the colonel.

“As you can see, things have moved on a bit,” Tyrell said as he ushered Mico into the long room at the heart of the Great Vault to reveal an amazing transforma
tion. All the tombs that lined the pool had been emptied to create a series of private booths. At the far end, masses of stones had been stacked into a platform like a dais, and around it sat four pretty young female monkeys arranging fruit.

“I thought you'd closed the Vault on security grounds,” said Mico, slowly taking it all in.

“In this magnificent room, I draw my inner circle close,” said Tyrell, ushering Mico deeper into the chamber. “There's no greater virtue than loyalty.”

He looked at Mico with genuine appreciation. “Here I can reward my friends with the finest gifts…starting with you.”

“There's really nothing I need,” said Mico, trying to sound nonchalant. “Thanks to you, I have the best quarters, the finest food—”

“But no mate,” said Tyrell.

Mico's first reaction was inner panic. The very last thing he needed was a female living with him, watching his every move, asking endless questions. And, in his heart, he still longed to find a way of bridging the gulf that had opened up between him and Papina.