Amazon Burning (A James Acton Thriller, #10) (21 page)

“Everyone
calm down,” came the professor’s voice. “I want to know exactly what’s
happening.”

“He’s
choking Terrence!” cried Jenny, still beating at Turnbull, the thuds vibrating
through his attacker’s body and into Mitchell’s.

“If you
don’t let him go, there’s no way we will help you.” The professor’s voice was
calm but firm. “Do you understand me?”

“I
understand that I have your man and I’ll kill him if you don’t give me what I
want!”

“Your
name is Bob Turnbull,” replied Acton. “We have your man Steve Parker. If any
harm comes to my people, I won’t rest until you go to prison for the rest of
your life. With one phone call I can have your name and photograph at every
single airport in the country. There will be no escape. And if you’re rotting
in jail, how are you going to help your friends then?”

Mitchell
felt Turnbull’s grip loosen slightly as he sobbed, and just as he was about to
try and wrench himself free he heard an incredible bang with a slight ringing
sound directly behind him, then suddenly he was free, Turnbull collapsing to
the ground. Mitchell turned to see Jenny holding the large, old rotary phone
from the nightstand.

Try
that with a cellphone.

Acton’s
voice erupted from the phone on the bed. “What’s going on?”

“I’m
okay, Professor,” replied Mitchell, coughing and collapsing to his knees as he
tried to regain his breath. Jenny dropped the phone and threw her arms around
him, crying into his chest. “Jenny knocked him out with the phone.”

“Okay,
tie him up and call the police. Then call the American Embassy for him, he’s
going to need some help.”

“He was
just starting to let me go, Professor. I think you got through to him.”

“Are you
sure?”

“Not a
hundred percent, but pretty sure. He definitely loosened his grip and I heard
him sort of start to cry.” Mitchell couldn’t believe he was defending his
attacker, but he felt sorry for the man, and knew what desperation felt like,
he having gone through it in the Egyptian desert just last year. “I think he
was just desperate. If we tell him we’ll help, I’m sure he’ll cooperate.”

“But we
can’t send Leather’s team in,” replied Acton. “That’s Venezuela. We have no
permission to be there.” Mitchell heard a sigh through the phone. “Listen, you’re
there, on site. It’s up to you on whether or not you want to trust him. Tell
him we will do everything we can to help, but if he touches either of you
again, all bets are off.”

“Okay,
Professor. I’ll let you know what happens.”

He ended
the call and looked at Jenny. “What do you think?”

“I think
we call the bloody police and have him locked up for trying to kill you, that’s
what I think!”

Mitchell
laughed slightly, his feelings mixed. He was terrified. The man had attacked
him and could have killed him if Jenny hadn’t of coldcocked him with the phone.
But would he have done any different if the roles were reversed? He couldn’t
say for sure. And it had him torn.

Turnbull
groaned.

And
Mitchell’s decision was made.

“Help me
get him into the chair,” he said, standing.

Jenny
stared at him, mouth agape. “Are you daft?”

Suddenly
the door burst open, flying off the hinges. Jenny screamed and Mitchell jumped
in front of her, nearly shitting his pants as half a dozen police officers
stormed into the room, guns drawn, screaming in Portuguese.

It
appeared Mitchel’s decision to give Turnbull a second chance had been
countermanded.

To say Acton was concerned was putting it mildly, and his concern
was clearly shared by Laura. Their conversation with Mitchell and his wife
Jenny had taken place nearly on the run, there no time to waste if they were to
arrive at the river before nightfall. He was more and more convinced that they
had to reach the safety of the boat in case this Tuk kidnapper came back with
friends. He had faith that Leather’s team could hold their own in a firefight,
but poison arrows in the dark of the jungle were almost impossible to defend
against.

“Hold
your position!” ordered a voice, the accent unmistakably British, from what
part of the Empire Acton had no idea, still trying to figure out the diverse
country’s many different facets.

Everyone
froze, Sandro quickly translating for Skip who ordered their guides to hold.

Bushes
rustled and almost immediately retired Lt. Colonel Cameron Leather appeared from
the foliage, a smile on his face. “Good afternoon, Professors. We could hear
you coming from a klick away.”

“Thank
God you’re here!” cried Laura, giving the man a hug and smiling at the rest of
his team as they emerged from their cover. She introduced Sandro and Skip and
it was quickly conveyed to their guides that these men were friendly.

Skip
said something, pointing in the direction they had been heading.

“He say
we must go. No time to chit-chat.” Sandro was already following their guides,
leaving the rest to catch up.

“Are you
okay, Professor?” asked Leather, keeping beside Laura, their guides setting the
pace at a near jog.

“Other
than being tired, sore and embarrassed, I’m fine.”

“You’ve
got nothing to be embarrassed about, honey.” Acton looked from his wife to
Leather. “She took on an anaconda!” It was said with pride and awe, Acton
having only believed the story because he had seen the carcass himself.

Leather’s
eyes widened. “An anaconda?”

“Dove
out of a tree with a knife, sunk the blade into its head, then sliced the
damned thing right open. I saw the carcass myself.”

“Holy
Christ!”

“Then
she ate the effin’ thing!”

Leather
shook his head, laughing as he deked around a tree. “You never cease to amaze
me, ma’am.”

“Nor I
myself, apparently.” She frowned. “There’s been a development since we were
last in contact.”

“What’s
that?”

“Apparently
some environmentalists have run into some trouble. They were captured by what
two survivors are calling Special Ops types, possibly Chinese?” She looked at
Leather. “Does that make any sense?”

“Where?”

“North
of here, just across the Venezuelan border.”

“That’s
where we figure you were found, just across the border, a couple of miles into
Venezuelan territory,” said Leather.

“Did you
have permission to cross the border as part of the search?” asked Acton.

Leather
shook his head. “Negative. And I wouldn’t bother asking. In this part of the
jungle, the chances of getting caught by the authorities crossing the border
are slim to none. It’s a protected ecological zone that’s supposed to be left
alone so the natives can go about their business. I figured if we needed to
cross to get you, we just wouldn’t mention that in the report,” he said,
winking at Acton with a smile that lasted only a moment. “What makes these environmentalists
think it was Special Ops?”

“The way
they were dressed,” answered Acton. “Head to toe black, faces covered, no
markings.”

“Could
be paramilitaries, Venezuelan police.”

“That’s
what I was thinking as well.”

“And Chinese?”

Acton
shoved aside some branches, holding them back for Laura. “That’s what the guy
said. He said he heard them talking and it wasn’t Spanish or Portuguese, but sounded
Chinese.”

“That
could mean anything. There’s dozens of languages that sound Chinese. Hell, most
people can’t tell the difference between Chinese, Japanese and Korean. Can’t
tell the people apart either. But Chinese is probably the correct guess.”

Acton
was surprised at Leather’s conclusion. “Why?”

“Venezuela
is one step away from being a full-on communist state, China
is
communist, Venezuela hates America, China loves pretty much anyone the West
doesn’t. There’s lots of business ventures between China and Venezuela. If I remember
my briefing notes on the region correctly, China is Venezuela’s second largest
trading partner, and Venezuela is China’s go-to country for Latin American
investment. They are
very
tight. Makes me wonder why you Yanks would
rather buy your oil from them than Canada.”

Acton
shrugged as Laura shook her head. “But Chinese Special Ops? What could they
possibly be doing in the middle of the Amazon Rainforest?”

 “No
idea, but they probably weren’t Special Ops, just advisors. China has military
all over the world but call them ‘advisors’,” said Leather adding air quotes.
“We do the same, so do the Americans. It’s pretty standard practice. They could
be providing security for something in the region, picked up the
environmentalists on a security sweep.”

Acton
didn’t like the sounds of this, the PAN environmentalists’ story sounding more
and more plausible. “Would they shoot first, ask questions later?”

Leather
nodded. “Absolutely. They don’t operate under the same Rules of Engagement as
Western troops typically do. If whatever they’re protecting is important
enough, they’d kill without hesitation.”

“So the
captured environmentalists?” asked Laura, her voice telling Acton she didn’t
want to have the answer she already knew confirmed.

“Are
most likely dead.”

It was
said with the certainty of experience, and was the same conclusion Acton had
come to as well. He just hated to hear his pessimistic side confirmed.

“And an
excursion to confirm that?”

Leather
looked him directly in the eye. “Strongly discouraged. We are a small team,
already down one man, designed to rescue two missing persons, one the hostage
of a primitive tribe, not take on possible Chinese Special Forces. I recommend
we stick to the plan—get to the village, evac by boat, tell the authorities.
Let them investigate.”

Acton
was in full agreement, but he could tell Laura wasn’t. “But what if it’s true
about this illegal logging operation. It could destroy the entire ecosystem
here, or worse, destroy a way of life for the indigenous people.”

“Which
is why I think we should leave it to the authorities. They’re trained for this,
they have the diplomatic ties.”

Laura
frowned, the reply evidently still not sitting well, but she said nothing.
Acton instead responded. “Then that’s what we’ll do, leave it to the Brazilians
to sort out with the Venezuelans. Let’s just get our asses on that boat and out
of here.”

Tuk sprinted through the last of the trees before the clearing
containing the Cleansing Pit. The screams and terrifyingly alien sounds of the
Panther People and their mighty beasts were long gone. He had bypassed TikTik’s
village fearing they might delay him from reaching the one person who might be
able to help.

Lau-ra-pal-mer.

The
Woman of Light would know what to do. She would know how to fight the Panther
People, to stop them in their wanton destruction. His fear was he’d be too
late. They had already killed Bruk and TikTik. Would they kill the others, or
take them captive, forcing them into slavery to serve their cause.

He had
heard of other tribes taking people as slaves to work their fields, but it was
rare and he had never met anyone firsthand who had seen it. He could understand
the appeal of slavery—if someone else was forced to do the work, it left you
free to pursue other useful activities that might benefit the community, or
simply be able to rest from time-to-time.

It was
the entire idea of
forcing
someone against their will to do it. That he
couldn’t understand. Why anyone would think they had the right to force someone
else to do work was beyond him. Which made the entire concept of slavery
unpalatable to him, and he was determined that his family and friends would not
suffer long in that role should that be the intention of the Panther People.

The past
few harvests his village had been forced to get help from TikTik’s village due
to their shortage of manpower. In exchange those that helped got a share of
what they harvested.
That
seemed to Tuk to be the right way of doing
things. Fair compensation for work well done.

Everyone
won.

But for
the Panther People to come and raid villages to steal people to work as slaves?
Completely unacceptable.

But he
prayed that was exactly what was happening.

For if
it weren’t, the alternative meant death.

He burst
into the clearing and fell to his knees as he reached the edge. Looking over
his heart sank as he felt his ears pound and the world begin to lose focus.

The pit
was empty.

The
Woman of Light was gone.

And his
village was doomed.

He
double-checked, not believing his eyes, then realized how obvious the answer
was.

How
stupid can you be?

She was
a Spirit Person, and though she had led him to believe she had lost her powers,
she obviously hadn’t. When he had left her she must have simply left the pit,
perhaps floating out like a feather caught on the wind. Which also meant she
had either not understood the Cleansing Ritual she was partaking in, or worse,
had decided not to partake.

Either
way, she wasn’t here and all hope was lost for his village.

He sat
back on the cool grass of the clearing and began to sob as he thought of his
mother, condemned her remaining life to serve the Panther People as their
slave, left to wonder what had become of her son.

Her
cowardly, weak son.

I’m
not a coward!

He
slammed his fists into the ground then pushed himself to his feet, wiping his
tears of self-pity off his face.

I am
not
a coward!

He
looked about the clearing then at the ground. He smiled. There were tracks
everywhere, not just Lau-ra’s but several others as well, including two with
curious markings from the strange leathers they wore over their feet like
Lau-ra did.