The Promised One (19 page)

‘This special tree that you made has saved the lives of the Paterpromise and his companions. No such tree must ever again be made in this place, for if animals of the forest mingle with those in the crater, many creatures will be doomed. Do you all follow my words?’

‘Your command shall always be obeyed by all that stand here,’
replied Queenie,
‘for we know that there are matters within your ken that we shall never comprehend.’

Richard stood mystified by this exchange which, for him had consisted of Lucy and a band of monkeys and assorted other animals standing looking at each other in complete silence. When it was over she explained to her father what had been said. Richard said nothing but realized that when it came to organizing and planning for the future his daughter was wise beyond her years. In the event, Richard’s fears that they might need to return to the crater
proved unfounded – as Lucy had always known they would – and within a few weeks the ladder, like all other fallen branches in the jungle, had disappeared under the never-ending onslaught of the myriad insects and moulds of the forest floor.

L
ucy and Richard retraced the journey she had taken previously under the guidance of the condors. The monkeys seemed to have an infallible memory for the route and the return journey was undertaken in much the same way as the outward one a few days earlier. There was now a very large tapir for Richard, and the only serious problem they faced was in crossing the jungle-clad ravine over which the monkeys had carried Lucy. It was impossible for them to assist Richard in the same way as he was a large man, and it took almost a week of additional journey time to circumvent this natural obstacle that the monkeys had traversed with Lucy in less than an hour.

One night, after journeying for two weeks, they sat after supper in the rapidly fading light when Lucy remembered something she had forgotten to tell her father.

‘Dad, I know this sounds stupid, but I don’t suppose you’ve any idea what the exact date is? I heard Chopper say that they were expecting the biggest drugs delivery they’ve ever had on New Year’s Day – they thought it was the ideal day not to get noticed doing something criminal.’

Richard took his diary out of his rucksack.

‘I must say, it’s becoming a novel experience to be one up on you, but as it so happens I do have a diary and I know exactly what day it is. I nearly told you in the crater when you mentioned Clare’s birthday, but I got distracted by the thought of writing a letter home.’ He handed the diary over and pointed to where he had been conscientiously marking off the days since his crash in the jungle.

‘I wasn’t going to tell you until tomorrow as a surprise,’ he continued with a smile, ‘but, now you’ve asked, tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Happy pre-Christmas!’ And he leant over and gave her a kiss and a hug.

‘Christmas! – I can’t believe that I’d forgotten all about it. Normally I think of nothing else for weeks beforehand.’ Then she smiled. ‘Do you think Santa Claws will visit us in the jungle?’ Richard looked slightly mystified. ‘Oh, come on, Dad. Santa
Claws
!’ They both laughed as he eventually twigged and their thoughts turned at once to Clare, the chief punster in the family. Richard saw Lucy’s eyes beginning to glisten with tears.

‘It’ll be my first Christmas away from Clare, Sarah and Mummy. I wonder what they’ll all be doing.’

At that moment Queenie stiffened and looked up into the treetops. It was now almost dark. As Richard and Lucy watched, a shape detached itself from the canopy and glided silently down to them. The screech owl perched on a nearby shrub and spoke.

‘I bring sad tidings to thee, O Promised One.’
The voice reminded Lucy instantly of this bird’s distant cousin on Wimbledon Common.
‘The henbane that was the last to bear
a message to thy kin did not return to his den for many sunsleeps. Now he has been found by the side of the great path that carries the moving houses with paws of rubber that roar. He may have been distracted by a coneyhop, for the remains of one lay near by. His own kin know not whether he perished before his duty to thee was fulfilled. They greatly fear thy wrath.’

Lucy turned to Richard tearfully.

‘They may not have got our message from the crater. The fox carrying it on its last leg got run over.’ Richard was trying to console her when suddenly she sat up straight and wiped her eyes with a leaf.

‘Of course!’ she exclaimed. ‘How could I forget! We must use the animanet.’ She ignored Richard’s mystified expression and turned quickly back to the owl who was waiting patiently to be dismissed.

‘Thanks to thee who rend the night with thy great cry. I have a further errand. First my kin must know that the Paterpromise is with me and that we are safe from all evil. Then the kin of the henbane who sacrificed himself in my cause must be thanked. I feel only gratitude, not wrath. They shall come and speak to me when I return to Albion. Now go in haste: tell the swiftest of the fledgiquills in the forest to fly to the Great Salt and give these messages to the Great Ones. Thank thee and fare thee well!’

‘I fly even now to do thy will.’
The owl rose with a clatter of wings and sped off into the black night.

When he had gone Richard turned to Lucy:

‘I want to know all about this animanet, or whatever it is you said – it sounds fascinating – but first let’s go back to our discussion about Chopper and the drugs delivery
on New Year’s Day. We’ve got to try to get to the camp in time to warn the cops so they can stop the drug switch and catch both sets of villains. Do you think we can make the camp within a week?’

Lucy consulted Queenie, then turned back to Richard.

‘She says we’ll be there just after the new moon. I remember it was a full moon about a week ago – so we should be OK.’ They both peered into the night sky for confirmation, and could just see a half-crescent through a gap in the canopy.

‘You’re right,’ said her father. ‘Clever girl! But it’s going to be close: we can’t afford to lose any time in the next few days.’

Christmas morning started off as a sad affair in the Bonaventure household. The family were all together at Joanna’s house and the absence of Richard and Lucy seemed even more poignant on a day that, over the years, had been filled with such happiness in the family. Joanna had decided that, for the sake of Sarah, Ben, Henry and Christopher, they should try to celebrate as best they could in the circumstances with a traditional Christmas meal. Just before lunch, as she was taking the turkey out of the oven, Tibbles came up to her and started purring and rubbing her head against her leg in a most insistent fashion.

‘Out of the way, Tibs,’ she said. ‘I’m really busy just now, we’ll talk to you later.’ But the cat grew even more
insistent, mewing incessantly and deliberately moving in front of Joanna’s feet, so that she practically tripped over her.

‘What on earth’s the matter?’ said Joanna. ‘You’ve already had your breakfast. You don’t have lunch as well just because it’s Christmas.’

Clare, who had been making some cranberry sauce and only half paying attention to this little interchange, suddenly stopped and turned to watch the cat. The cat, seeing Clare’s movement, immediately came over to her and started to do the same as she had to Joanna, then went to and fro between the two of them.

‘It’s Lucy!’ exclaimed Clare, practically in a shout. ‘It’s a message from Lucy!’

The cat, seeing it had at last got their attention, turned and raced upstairs, followed by Clare and Joanna. The other members of the family, putting the finishing touches to the table in the dining room, were puzzled to see, through the serving hatch, their sudden disappearance, but
presumed it was some kind of surprise they had forgotten to get for the younger children.

Tibbles first went to Lucy’s bedroom and found Jackie, the favourite soft toy from which Lucy was normally inseparable. She then led the curious pair to Joanna and Richard’s room and, jumping up on their bed, laid the toy on Richard’s pillow. Next she went to the wardrobe where Richard kept his clothes and shoes and mewed and pawed at the door. Clare opened it and the cat immediately rummaged inside and emerged with one of Richard’s slippers in her mouth. She then deliberately placed it next to the soft toy on Richard’s pillow, sat by the pillow and started purring as loudly as the astonished mother and daughter had ever heard her purr before.

‘Lucy and Daddy are together in a safe place!’ Clare said, her voice now almost a whisper and trembling with emotion.

Joanna looked at her and nodded, an ecstatic smile crossing her face. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘It just can’t mean anything else.’

They hugged each other and wept for joy, with Tibbles purring and rubbing herself against their legs. Then they went downstairs and Joanna told her parents the news.

‘What a wonderful Christmas present – the best any of us could have hoped for,’ said Grandma, crying happily into a tissue.

Clare took Sarah, Ben, Henry and Christopher aside and told them simply that they had heard that Lucy and Richard were safe. The family had decided that none of them should know Lucy’s secret until they were much older.

W
hen at last they reached the river, Lucy and Richard found the boat guarded by the caymans. Following Lucy’s instructions the monkeys had covered it in large fronds to protect it from the rain and hide it from any observer plane that might be sent out from the camp. After several minutes of backbreaking tugging at the starter cord Richard was eventually able to start the outboard motor. They chugged off down the river, accompanied by all the animals.

During their long journey Lucy had recounted in full detail her experiences in Rio and the camp, and Richard had gone cold with anger at the thought of the fate that Chopper and his associates had planned for his daughter. He was also appalled to learn the truth about the company, though he was convinced that José Verdade was not involved in any of the shady side of the business, and decided he would contact him as soon as he could.

When they got to within a couple of miles of the camp Richard shut off the engine so that its throbbing would not be heard and they floated silently down towards the
jetty and the wreck of the spare boat. When they eventually moored the boat it was almost evening on New Year’s Eve and they held a council of war. The first thing they decided they must do was to find out how many men were in the camp and where they were. Lucy was particularly interested to know whether Chopper had come from Rio and whether he was armed.

‘None of the animals must get hurt,’ she said. ‘They have done everything they can to help us and it wouldn’t be fair to send them into danger. I’m going to talk to Queenie about the safest plan of action.’ Richard agreed and watched, fascinated, as his daughter sat down and discussed tactics with a monkey – neither of them apparently speaking; they just looked intently at each other with Lucy nodding now and then. She had started the conversation by taking off her glasses and giving them to the monkey who had immediately put them on and worn them throughout the interchange, adding a final, surreal touch to the scene. Richard wished he had a camcorder to record everything. Soon the monkey got up, gently replaced Lucy’s spectacles, being careful not to knock Michelle off her shoulder, and disappeared towards the camp.

‘What was going on with your specs?’ asked Richard.

‘Oh, she loves them,’ said Lucy. ‘At first she made me take them off when I was about to get into a situation where they might get broken, then I noticed she started to ask me to remove them for more and more trivial reasons just as an excuse to try them on. Now I just give them to her whenever we have a chat.’

As Richard laughed a gentle breeze drifted towards them from the camp. He wrinkled up his nose.

‘Phew! What’s that pong?’

Lucy gave a wicked grin.

‘Oh, that’s a little present I left behind.’ She told her father about the pigs and he burst out laughing. ‘It’s amazing it’s still so strong after all this time,’ Lucy said, laughing. ‘I didn’t specifically ask them to, but it looks as though they went a bit dung-ho and have been back now and then to keep things topped up.’ For a few minutes neither could speak for laughing.

‘But now to business,’ Richard said wiping tears from his eyes. ‘What have you been hatching up with your monkey friends?’

‘It’s all arranged,’ said Lucy. ‘The scurripods are going to suss the place out tonight …’

‘Scurripods?’ interrupted Richard.

‘Sorry, rats and mice – I’m beginning to talk like an animal myself. Anyway, they can tell us who’s where and then Queenie is going to get Chopper’s revolver if he has one. She did it before with the others and isn’t worried about it. We’ll then immobilize them all in the morning and put part of the airstrip out of action after the drugs plane has landed so the police can catch them.’

Richard was looking at her open-mouthed.

‘Hang on a minute. How will you immobilize heaven knows how many villains, put an airfield out of action and call the police?’

‘Well, the first two problems are a secret between
Queenie and me,’ grinned Lucy. ‘All you have to do is to get on the radio as soon as we have the men trapped in their cabins and call the cops.’

They slept that night in the boat, protected by the panther stalking the river bank and the caymans cruising in the river. Just after dawn Queenie appeared, carrying some fruit and a revolver.

‘The evil ones sleep in three huts. All except one of those who were here before remain.’
She put down the fruit and held up one paw with the fingers outstretched.

‘Five,’
said Lucy.
‘What happened to the other?’

‘He who inflicted pain on the junglefangs disappeared from his cabin one moon ago while the Brilliant One slept. I know not what happened to him for this was not done at your command.’
Lucy thought it best not to enquire further about Sing Song, but suspected that the uninjured jaguars she had instructed to feed their disabled companions had not gone far for their first supply of rations. The thought that Song had probably already been converted into, among other things, several pints of jaguar bile struck her as something approaching the ultimate in poetic justice.

Queenie continued:
‘… and two more have come since we were last in this place.’

‘Seven altogether, then,’
Lucy added.

‘The new ones sleep in the biggest hut – the others had to move. One is small, like a child; the other looks like the hippophant who bore you through the jungle. I have his thunder-stick, it was easy to remove as it was hanging in its skin on the chair beside where he slept. The door opened easily and he heard nothing for he was
making a sound like a great snortikin. I have left him a surprise in the skin as you suggested.’

As the sun rose the men stirred. Fred rose and went to the door to cross over to the mess tent to make coffee. He opened the door and was about to step out when he cursed and slammed the door shut.

‘Can’t you make less noise!’ shouted Sid. ‘Some of us are still trying to kip – what’s up?’ he suddenly added, seeing Fred’s face.

‘Ants,’ said Fred. ‘Millions and millions of the little bleeders. Not a square inch of ground without ants – and big ones too.’ He suddenly swore and slapped at his foot. ‘And their bites are like red-hot needles!’ His brother jumped up and rushed to the window.

‘My God!’ breathed Sid. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it!’

The entire camp except the radio shack was carpeted with ants. They covered every surface like a seething black coat of treacle and extended along the path leading to the dynamite store and the airstrip.

‘I’ve heard about these ant armies,’ said Fred. ‘When they go on the move they destroy everything in their path, large and small. Nothing that can’t escape survives.’

His brother didn’t seem to find this observation particularly comforting. ‘Well,
we
can’t escape,’ said Sid. ‘They’re all around us for as far as I can see, in every direction. The only weird thing is, they’re not coming in the doors and
windows, even though they’d easily fit through the cracks.’

‘Well, just be grateful they’re not,’ said Fred, ‘and don’t go attracting their attention. I expect they’ll move on when they’ve cleared out all our grub and then we’ll be OK. We’d better just sit tight.’

A similar scene was taking place in the second hut, occupied by Pollard, Barker and Sam. Barker rushed out with a shovel and started beating the ground outside the door. Within seconds he was covered in ants from head to toe and was carried screaming back into the cabin by Sam, who himself got bitten as he attempted to brush the insects off his companion.

‘Where’s Pollard?’ Sam asked when they had finally removed the insects.

‘He got up before dawn and went to the gelly shack. He’s probably got trapped there by the ants. Chopper told him to have a gelignite pack ready from first thing, in case the drugs plane came early. His instructions were to hide near the airstrip all day. He’s to blow their plane up if they try to double-cross us.’

‘Phew! Chopper certainly thinks of everything,’ said Sam.

‘Well – almost everything,’ replied Barker bitterly, rubbing the angry red bites already swelling on his legs. ‘It’s just a pity he didn’t remember to bring a zillion tons of ant powder with him.’

‘We’d better tell Chopper about the ants,’ said Sam. ‘We’ve got to get this lot clear before the plane arrives.’

‘Well, I don’t know what Chopper can do,’ said Barker. ‘He’s not a bleedin’ anteater, even though his nose is the
right shape. Still, I suppose you’re right, he needs to know.’ They started shouting through the window across to Chopper’s cabin, a larger hut behind the two smaller ones.

Chopper had gone to bed exhausted as usual. He found the humidity and heat of the camp intensely uncomfortable and since his arrival almost two months earlier had been permanently nauseated by the lingering and all-pervasive stench of peccary ordure. He had been desperately keen, however, that the drugs delivery planned for the next day should go smoothly and had realized that the only way to ensure this was to remain at the camp and supervise things himself. Before getting into his hammock he had finally removed the strapping from the foot he had injured on his garden gnome. His foot had felt much easier once he had taken the strapping off, and he was now in a deep sleep lying flat on his back in the hammock, after having had his first really comfortable night since his injury.

The large black lizard left by Queenie had also spent a very comfortable night in the gun holster slung over the chair next to Chopper’s hammock and, with his head cocked slightly to one side, looked for all the world like a gun. The holster was a perfect spot for, without moving, he had passed the early morning picking off the flies buzzing around Chopper, many of which unwisely stopped for a brief and final rest on the holster or the chair.

‘Chopper … Chopper … Chopper!’ Chopper awoke to the sound of distant shouting. His first thought was that there was a raid by the police or a rival gang, and he attempted to snatch his revolver from its holster, knocking
a plastic bottle of water to the floor as he did so. The lizard was more than a little affronted by this interruption to his breakfast, and not only scrabbled violently with front and back legs in Chopper’s hand but bit him hard on the ear for good measure. Chopper gave a howl of fright and disgust and, dropping the reptile, ran straight for the door in his bare feet. In his panic he didn’t notice the large rat standing guard near the door and stampeded past it on the way out, his foot missing its tail by millimetres. The rat did notice Chopper, however, and when, a few seconds later, he came back inside cursing and rubbing at his
ant-covered
feet, it bit deep into his healing toe, guided by some unerring primitive instinct to his victim’s most vulnerable spot and instantly refracturing the bone. Chopper screamed and, clutching his bleeding toe, hopped around the cabin floor. He hopped into the pool of spilt water and skidded across the cabin towards his cabin mate, the lizard and the rat jumping for their lives as his enormous bulk hurtled towards them.

Chopper was a large man – very large, in fact ‘obscenely fat-arsed git’ was the phrase that crossed most people’s lips once they were safely out of earshot. His momentum when he had been precipitated into motion, usually inadvertently, was prodigious. He now hurtled through the air towards the hammock in which his small hut-mate, Bert Shortshanks, was sleeping soundly.

Bert had been working hard the previous day trying to clear the remains of the most recent delivery of pig dung from the camp. It was hard and disgusting work and, as the
washing facilities had still not been restored in the camp since Lucy’s last visit, he had retired to his hammock smelly and exhausted. He was so deeply asleep that Chopper’s snoring had not disturbed him, and even while Chopper was confronting the lizard, the ants and the rat, he remained engrossed in an absorbing dream. Whatever dream he was dreaming it seems unlikely that, under normal circumstances, it would have ended with his being hit by a human bulldozer, but when Chopper’s massive bulk came hurtling across the room and collided with Bert’s diminutive form, there was only one possible outcome. Bert left his hammock as though someone had pressed the ejector seat button in a fighter aircraft, and sailed through the air to land headfirst in the corner. The hut was very sparsely furnished: apart from the two hammocks and Chopper’s bedside chair there was only a bucket and a small cupboard. The bucket was used by the men as a chamberpot during the night to avoid them having to go out across the unlit compound with the risk of attack by snakes, poisonous insects or larger animals. It stood in the far corner of the room and was ideally positioned to break Bert’s fall as he landed headfirst in its welcoming depths.

Meanwhile Chopper had made a perfect two-point landing. His bottom hit the floor of the hut, making a noise that sounded like the end of the world. The impact shook the entire hut and the surrounding ground for several yards and the floorboards splintered as if made of matchwood, a very large fragment disappearing into the
blubbery depths of Chopper’s buttock; two days later it would take a prison doctor, two nurses and a hospital porter to remove it. While his buttocks were demolishing the floor Chopper’s right foot, hitherto his good foot, smashed through the door of the little cupboard, breaking two of his toes. The screams of rage and pain emitted by Chopper and Bert carried to the jetty, where Richard looked in concern at Lucy.

‘You’re not having them killed, are you?’ he said as Chopper’s howls floated across the clearing. ‘I mean, I know they’re a crowd of so-and-sos, but we should try to bring them to justice.’

‘Chill out, Dad!’ said Lucy laughing. ‘Queenie and I have just arranged a little early morning entertainment, but nothing that’s against the Geneva Convention.’

Richard smiled nervously in relief and instantly
regretted having let such a terrible thought even cross his mind. The fact that it had, however, did bring home to him the true power and responsibility that his daughter now exercised. She was the first person in history who could commit the perfect unsolved murder – or a thousand – without being at any risk of discovery or even suspicion. She could, for instance, easily arrange for every man in the camp to be exterminated by snakes, scorpions, caymans, jaguars or any other lethal creatures. Far from being under any suspicion she would, in all probability, even end up being seen as an innocent and fortunate survivor. In his mind’s eye he saw a headline from one of the tabloid newspapers: