Amazon Burning (A James Acton Thriller, #10) (25 page)

Laura
motioned toward her security team. “I think we’re well protected, Fabricio.
Please, he’s wounded and needs our help.”

“Okay,
senhora, it your charter.”

He fired
up the engine and turned the boat around, Tuk having kept pace with them as
they had continued to drift, all the while calling for Laura and for help.

And the
entire time her heart broke as she heard the desperation in his voice, his
pleads for her to help him, “Lau-ra help Tuk!” echoing in her head as she
watched him plunge into the water as he saw the boat turn. He swam toward them
then suddenly dipped below the surface, not returning. An arm shoved above the
water, his head following as he sputtered for air, then disappeared again.

“He’s
drowning!” shouted Reading as James yanked off his boots.

“Be
careful!” she yelled as her beloved husband dove into the water after the man
who had kidnapped her. James broke the surface, swimming hard toward the
relative position Tuk had been in when they last saw him, he obviously assuming
the current would still be carrying the young man along with it. It was almost
dark now and Fabricio’s men were aiming every light they had at the area, Leather’s
men scanning the surface with their own flashlights.

“There!”
yelled one of Leather’s men, pointing farther downriver. Fabricio’s men
immediately redirected their lights and she gasped in relief as James broke the
surface, Tuk gripped in his left arm. Fabricio guided the boat toward them as
several lifebuoys were tossed in. James grabbed one and Leather’s team pulled
him and the unmoving Tuk to the side. Strong hands grabbed them and pulled them
aboard, James rolling onto his back, gasping, as Tuk lay beside him, still.

“Is he
breathing?” Laura asked as she rushed to his side.

“Doesn’t
look like it,” said Leather as he checked for a pulse. He immediately began
chest compressions as Laura knelt between James and Tuk. She took James’ hand
in hers, then Tuk’s in her other.

“How’s
he doing?” asked James as he sat up, shoving his fingers through his dripping
hair. Reading tossed him a towel and he stood, letting go of Laura’s hand as he
began to towel himself off.

Leather
checked for a pulse again. “Nothing so far.”

Laura
leaned over, close to Tuk’s ear. “Tuk! It’s Laura. You have to breathe!” It was
frustrating not being able to communicate, and she realized what it must be
like for a true refugee—not economic refugees shopping for the best
handout—thrust into unfamiliar environments where no one spoke their language.
Finally she squeezed his hand in both of hers, saying the only thing she could
think of to say.

“Tuk
help Tuk!”

Everything was black. A roaring sound in the distance was all he
could sense except for strange lights that seemed like those he would see at
night when he looked up.

The
campfires of the spirits.

He had
often wondered about that. If they were campfires, then why were they white?
And why were they moving across the sky in an arc? All of them. Did the Spirit
World move? And if the Spirit World were in the sky, then what were they doing
on the great river?

He
believed in the Mother, proof of Her existence was all around him. But many of
the stories taught to him as a child, and clung to in adulthood by most, seemed
outrageous to believe in without some sort of proof. He kept his opinions to
himself of course, sharing them only with Pol, but now he wondered about
everything.

For he
was dead.

He could
remember swimming toward the Spirit Boat and Lau-ra, but his injured arm had
proven too weak and the current too swift. He had been sucked under and soon
lost the battle to hold his breath.

Or had
the Spirit World punished him?

He had
taken one of their own and then had the gall to try and board one of their
vessels as if he were an equal.

He
deserved to die.

The
roaring in the distance grew closer and he wondered if he were nearing the
afterlife his people believed in so fervently. Would the great Mother of all
things embrace him, allowing him to live for eternity in her bosom that was the
Spirit World where he would be reunited with the loved ones he had lost over
the years.

Pol!

The
thought excited him. To see Pol again would be worth dying for. He smiled as
the thought of reuniting with his friend began to consume him and he beseeched
the Mother to take him, to take him from this life of pain and heartache, and
deliver him into the easy life of the Spirits.

But what
of his own mother? She was a prisoner or worse of the Panther People. Did she
deserve to live out her remaining days in horror just so he could be reunited
with his dead friend, a friend who would be waiting for him whenever he
actually did die?

NO!

He knew
he had to get back, to somehow survive, but he didn’t know how.
Please great
Mother, do not take me yet! I have to save my people! Without me they are all
doomed! Let me save my people, your children, then you may take me!
He
listened for some sort of reply, something that had never happened in the real
world, but perhaps here, in this strange place between his world and the Spirit
World, the great Mother would respond.

“Tuk
help Tuk!”

The
voice was unmistakable.

Lau-ra!

Was she
the Mother? Could she be the embodiment of the creator of all things? Or was
she merely a messenger? Sent by the Mother to save him? That made more sense.
He laughed. The arrogance of thinking that the Mother Herself would allow him
to take Her from the Spirit World and willingly go with him to be his mate.

“Tuk
help Tuk!”

He knew
what she meant. She meant he had to help himself. But how? How could he help
himself? He could feel nothing, hear nothing but the roar in the distance. What
could he possibly do to help himself?

He
frowned, pondering the conundrum of how to save one’s life in the ether that
lay between life and death.

If he
were to help himself, he knew he had to beat death. So how did one beat death?
Overcome what had killed one in the first place. That much was obvious.
So
what killed me?
The water. He had drowned. Why did drowning in water kill
someone? He knew he had struggled to breathe and he had finally felt himself
gasp in the water, filling his body.

The
water had obviously taken the place of the air he was supposed to breathe. So
how to get rid of the water blocking air from getting in? He knew from enough
roughhousing in the smaller rivers near his village that when water went down
the wrong way, you would cough it out.

Cough!

He
coughed, hard, and suddenly felt air rush into his lungs, the roar in the
distance suddenly overwhelmingly loud. Someone was holding his hand, someone
else was pushing on his chest. He opened his eyes and found he was surrounded
by shapes, strange white lights pointed at him nearly blinding him.

“Lau-ra!”
he cried, looking for his messenger in the horror of the Spirit World. Voices
surrounded him, voices he couldn’t understand, but one voice he recognized,
near his ear.

“Lau-ra
help Tuk. Okay?”

He
raised his thumb. “Okay.” His voice was weak and he was suddenly shoved onto
his side, someone slapping his back. He coughed some more and several mouthfuls
of water spilled out. He didn’t know how long it took but he was soon breathing
normally, though he was weak and shivering.

He felt
something wrap around him and he gripped the strange skin tightly as he shook
in the chill of the evening. He was helped to his feet and he looked to see
Lau-ra was to his left, her presumed mate to his right. They led him to the
rear of the Spirit Boat and sat him down on a strange, incredibly soft log with
rests for his arms.

The
entire time he kept his eyes glued on Lau-ra and her gentle, smiling,
incredibly pale face. He was too terrified to look anywhere else but when
someone removed the skin covering his shoulder and began to poke around, he
winced, then passed out from the overwhelming pain.

“He’s out cold,” observed Leather. “Probably for the best.” His eyes
narrowed as he inspected the wound then opened wide in surprise as he looked up
at his client, Laura Palmer. “This is a bullet wound!”

She gasped,
her jaw dropping. “How did he get that?”

“The
guard fired a shot after you two. Perhaps he hit him?” suggested Acton.

Laura
shook her head. “No, he wasn’t wounded when I last saw him. He was perfectly
healthy.”

“Are you
sure?”

“Look at
him. He’s buck naked. It’s not like it was hiding under a shirt and I just
missed it.”

Acton
frowned. “Then who shot him?”

Leather
pulled out the bullet, holding it up for everyone to see. “7.62 millimeter I’d
guess. That’s a thirty caliber for you Yanks.”

Reading
frowned. “Powerful weapon.”

Leather
continued patching up Tuk’s arm. “I doubt any of the locals are carrying
something that packs that much punch.”

Acton
rubbed his chin, puzzled. “Most of the locals have nothing more than spears.
Some might have been traded guns in the past, not knowing they needed
ammunition, but I saw nothing at the village that would suggest they even knew
what a gun was.”

Reading
grunted. “Agreed. Perhaps we can ask them when we arrive. We’re almost there.”
He nodded toward the inlet, lit by the lights from the boat. “Hope they don’t
mind late visitors.”

“I know
one person who won’t mind,” grinned Acton.

Leather
looked up at Reading, the man trying to keep a professional visage but even he
had to smile as he battled to hide his delight. Leather returned his attention
to Tuk. He finished the final stitch and cut the string then saved his fellow
Brit. “But you know who does use that type of ammo.”

Laura
seemed almost afraid to ask. “Who?”

“Military.
Special Forces. Including Chinese Special Forces. Their Type 79’s are 7.62mm
and are their preferred submachine gun.”

“Which
fits in nicely with our environmentalist’s account.”

“It
does,” agreed Leather as he wrapped the wound. “But that type of ammo is used
by pretty much every military in the world, so I wouldn’t read too much into
it. Let’s just say though that I doubt he was shot by one of the locals.”

As they
approached the dock, the village erupted in cheers as those around the large
campfire jumped to their feet and rushed to the shore to greet their returning
guests.

And in
the front, standing right at the dock, was the sparkling young woman Leather
had determined owned the crusty old cop’s heart.

Lucky
bastard.

Manaus, Brazil

“What in the bloody hell is going on here?”

Terrence
Mitchell’s question was one that would go unanswered for the rest of the drive.
He had tried the doors, despite the gun being aimed at him, to no avail. They
were locked and controlled from the front and the deeply tinted windows kept
the activities inside private. All he had discovered during their ordeal was
that Bob Turnbull seemed as equally bewildered, he too ordered to raise his
hands and shut-up.

Their
benefactor, Rick Henderson, simply told them to relax and enjoy the ride.

Jenny
was pushed hard against Mitchell, her feet shoving against the center console
the entire time, and it was beginning to make him claustrophobic, he unable to
take a full breath the entire ride.

“We’re
here,” announced the driver, obviously an accomplice. The man was Asian, beyond
that he had no idea of his nationality except that the two words he had spoken
sounded perfectly American.

“Where
are we?” asked Jenny, her voice quivering with fear.

“We’re
going to take a little flight.”

Mitchell
didn’t like the sound of that. “Where?”

“That,
you don’t need to know.” Henderson’s smile was uncomfortably genuine looking.
“I will tell you this. Helping Mr. Turnbull here turned out to be a
very
bad mistake on your part.”

Dylan Kane lay prone outside the Kunlun Mountain complex, China’s equivalent
to Area 51. And it too didn’t exist. With information so tightly under control
in China however, it was much easier to keep its existence from the Chinese
people. And without the local population asking about it, the world didn’t ask
about it.

But
hiding it from spy satellites was a different matter. The United States had
known about it pretty much from the moment construction began, and the Chinese
simply acknowledged that fact by not bothering to try and hide what was
happening. They let the mountain overhead do that for them. It was a massive
undertaking, built on the backs of tens of thousands of peasants looking for
work. A massive complex had been built inside the Kunlun Mountains, and once
hollowed out, no amount of spy satellites would be able to determine what
occurred inside.