Amazonia (53 page)
Zane scrambled to his feet.
Nate swung the branch like a bat, striking him on the shoulder and knocking him back down. "That was for the shaman you shot like a dog!" Nate lifted the branch again. "And this is for--"
Zane glanced over Nate's shoulder. "Kelly! Thank God!"
Nate turned half around.
Using the moment of distraction, Zane shot to his feet and darted away. He cleared the side root in three steps.
He heard the blistering protest behind him and smiled.
What a...
...fool! Tricked by his own damn ruse!
No one stood at the tunnel entrance. Kelly was not there.
Nate watched Zane race around the thick buttress. "No, you don't, you bastard!" With club in hand, he gave chase.
Still ringing with anger, Nate flew around the tree and spotted Zane fleeing along the base of the trunk, toward a tangle of roots. The traitor could easily get lost among them and escape. Nate thought of going back for the abandoned pistol, but he didn't have the time. He dared not lose sight of the bastard.
Ahead, Zane ducked under an arched root and wriggled through agilely. He was one wiry son of a bitch. In this race, Zane's smaller frame and lighter build were advantageous.
Realizing they were matched now fist to fist, Nathan tossed aside his club and pursued Zane. They fought through the snarl, crawling, climbing, leaping, squirming their way through the tangled maze. Zane was making headway on him.
Then the roots opened. They both stumbled onto some path amid the mess. Zane ran, pounding down the trail. Nate swore and went after him.
Ahead, water glistened. As they raced along the snaking trail, Nate saw the path ended at a wide pool, blocking the way. A dead end.
Nate smiled.
End of the line, Zane!
End of the line, Zane!
As they neared the pool, his quarry also realized he had run himself into a blind alley and slowed--but instead of a groan of defeat, Nate heard a snarl of glee.
Zane leaped to the side, diving for the ground.
Nate closed the distance.
Zane swung to face him, a gun in hand. A 9mm Beretta.
It took Nate a startled moment to fathom this miracle. Then he saw his own shotgun, hanging by its shoulder strap from a rootlet a few steps to his right. The pistol was Kelly's! One of the weapons Zane had made them toss out of the treetop.
Nate groaned. The gods were not smiling on him. He took a step toward his shotgun, but Zane clucked his tongue.
"Move another inch, and you get a third eye!"
9:46 A.M.
Kouwe herded Anna ahead of him. The crack of rifle fire was closing all around them. Dakii led the way, expressionless, in scout mode. He wound with calm assurance through his village forest, guiding them back toward the nightcap oak. They needed to rendezvous with the Rangers. Put together some semblance of a plan.
Kouwe had been able to contact Sergeant Kostos over the radio and inform him of their status. He had also learned that Olin, left up in the dwelling, had been able to report in, too. The Russian was keeping himself well hidden in the tree. But so far no word had come from Nate's party. He prayed they were okay.
At last, Kouwe spotted sunlight ahead. The central glade! His team had been circling around from the south, keeping within the jungle cover. According to the sergeant, the Rangers were angling down from the north side.
Dakii slowed and pointed from a half crouch.
Anna and Kouwe moved up with him. Through a break in the foliage, Kouwe spotted the small log cabin in the clearing. He was able to orient himself. He followed the tribesman's arm. The nightcap oak, their destination, lay only fifty yards ahead. But that was not what Dakii was pointing out. Beyond the giant oak, Kouwe spotted Tor-tor. The jaguar raced along the clearing's edge. Drawn by the motion, Kouwe was able to see figures moving through the deeper shadows.
The Ranger team and Manny! They had made it back!
Dakii led them onward, speeding deftly through the glade's fringe.
In a few minutes, the two parties reunited at the base of the tree. Sergeant Kostos clapped Kouwe on the shoulder. Anna and Manny hugged.
"Any word from Nate?" Kouwe asked.
The sergeant shook his head, then waved to the dwelling. "I've ordered Olin to pack up his GPS and join us."
"Why? I thought the plan was to rendezvous at the tree."
"This is close enough. As near as I can tell, we're boxed in. The tree is no protection."
Kouwe frowned but understood. The marauders were systematically destroying every dwelling. They'd be trapped up there. "What then?"
"We bug out of here. Find a way through their line as silently as possible. Once past them, we'll seek shelter, somewhere where they can't find us."
Manny edged closer to them, glancing at his watch. "The sergeant set one of his napalm bombs back in the woods, timed to explode in another fifteen minutes."
"A distraction," Sergeant Kostos said. He hiked his pack on his shoulder. "And we have more if we need them."
"It's why we can't wait for Nate," Manny said, reading his friend's eyes.
Kouwe gazed at the Yagga. The sound of gunfire was trickling away...as was their time. If they were going to have any chance, they would have to take it now. Kouwe reluctantly nodded, conceding.
Overhead, the vine ladder shuddered. He glanced up. Olin was climbing down, his radio pack in place.
Kostos waved his M-16. "Let's get ready to--"
The blast rocked them all to their knees. Kouwe swung
around and watched the roof of the cabin sail high into the air. Bits of debris blew outward with tremendous force. A section of log shot by overhead, a flying battering ram, slicing into the jungle and crashing into its depths. Smoke billowed outward.
around and watched the roof of the cabin sail high into the air. Bits of debris blew outward with tremendous force. A section of log shot by overhead, a flying battering ram, slicing into the jungle and crashing into its depths. Smoke billowed outward.
That was no grenade blast.
Through the smoke, a cadre of soldiers appeared, weapons raised and ready.
Kouwe noticed two things simultaneously. First, walking in the lead was a naked woman, hand in hand with a tall gentleman dressed all in white.
But the second thing Kouwe noted was of more immediate menace, something carried by one of the soldiers. The man dropped to a knee and lifted a long black tube on his shoulder.
Kouwe had seen enough Hollywood movies to recognize the weapon.
"Rocket launcher!"
Carrera screamed behind him. "Everyone down!"
Carrera screamed behind him. "Everyone down!"
10:03 A.M.
The first blast had frozen both Nate and Zane in place. Nate kept focused on his adversary's weapon. From only a few yards away, the pistol was pointing square at his chest. He dared not move. He held his breath.
What was going on out there?
As the second blast sounded, Zane's eyes twitched in the direction of the explosion. Nate knew he wouldn't have another chance. He was dead unless he did something...even something stupid.
Nate lunged through the air, not toward Zane, but toward the dangling shotgun. His movement did not go unnoticed. Nate heard the sharp report of Zane's pistol
and felt something sting his upper thigh, but he didn't stop.
and felt something sting his upper thigh, but he didn't stop.
His body struck the root, his arms scrambling for the shotgun. He didn't have time to unhook the strap. From where it hung, he just blindly swung the barrel in Zane's general direction and yanked the trigger. Recoil tore the weapon from his hand.
Nate ducked and swung around.
He saw Zane flying backward, his belly bloody, arms flung out. Zane landed in the small pond at the end of the blocked trail. He sputtered to the surface--the water was surprisingly deep, even near shore--and cried in alarm and pain.
Zane was now learning the lesson he had taught the unarmed Ban-ali shaman: a belly shot was one of the most agonizing.
Nate pushed up and unhooked his shotgun. He pointed it at the floundering man. He had not seen where the pistol had gone and was taking no chances this time.
Zane, his face a mask of torment, struggled toward the shore. Then his body suddenly jerked, his eyes widened in shock. His moaning turned to fresh screams. "Nate! Help me!"
Responding instinctively, Nate took a step forward.
Zane reached toward him, face pleading, terrified--then all around his body, the waters erupted in a fierce churning.
Nate caught several flashes of silver bodies.
Piranhas
. He backed away, realizing where he was: the birthing pool, the hatchery that Manny had described finding.
Piranhas
. He backed away, realizing where he was: the birthing pool, the hatchery that Manny had described finding.
Zane thrashed, jerking and twitching, screeching. He began to sink into the froth. His eyes rolled with panic as he fought to keep his mouth above water. He failed. His head sank away. Only one arm remained above the pool--then even this disappeared under the roiling waters.
Nate turned from the pool and crossed down the path, feeling no pity for the man. He briefly checked the stinging burn in his thigh. He found a bullet hole in his pants and a trickle of blood. Just a graze, nothing more. He had been damned lucky.
He clenched the shotgun in his grip and marched down the trail, praying his luck would hold.
10:12 A.M.
Manny shifted under a pile of debris, shoving with his shoulders. Smoke choked him. The explosion of the rocket in the treetop still rang in his head. It hurt to move his jaw. He crawled free amid shouts and yells. All commands.
"Throw down your weapons!"
"Show us your hands!"
"Move now, or I'll shoot you dead where you lie!"
That was incentive enough. Manny groaned and spat out blood. He glanced up into chaos. He saw Anna Fong on her knees, hands on her head. She looked all but unscathed. Professor Kouwe knelt at her side, bearing a scalp gash that dripped blood down his cheek. Dakii was also there, wearing an expression of stunned disbelief.
Turning, Manny saw Tor-tor's spotted face peering out from under a bush. He motioned the jaguar to stay put. Near the same bush, he watched Private Carrera furtively shove her Bailey under a section of the roof thatch from one of the abodes above.
"You!" someone barked. "On your feet!"
Manny didn't know who the man was talking to until he felt the hot barrel of a gun on his temple. He froze.
"On your feet!" the man repeated. His words were heavily accented, German perhaps.
Manny clambered to his knees, then to his feet. He wobbled, but this seemed to satisfy the mercenary.
"Your weapon!" he barked.
Manny glanced around him as if searching for a missing shoe or sock. He saw his pistol lying there and nudged it with a toe. "There."
A second soldier appeared out of nowhere and confiscated it.
"Join the
anderen
!" the man said with a shove toward the others.
anderen
!" the man said with a shove toward the others.
As he stumbled toward his kneeling friends, Manny saw Carrera and Kostos escorted by other guards. Their holsters were empty, packs gone. They were all forced to their knees, hands on their heads. The sergeant's left eye was swollen, his nose crooked and bloodied, broken. Kostos had clearly put up more fight than Manny.
Suddenly a distant section of deeper forest blew up into a ball of fire. The soft explosion echoed out to them, along with the smell of napalm.
So much for Kostos's planned "distraction." Too little, too late.
"Herr Brail, this one's not moving!" one of the mercenaries shouted behind them in a mix of German and Spanish.
Manny glanced back to the base of the nightcap oak. It was Olin. He lay in a crumpled heap. A spear of wood had pierced through his shoulder and blood flowed brightly across his light khaki shirt. Manny saw he was still breathing.
The one named Brail tore his gaze from the burning forest and wandered over to check on the Russian.
"Hundefleisch,"
the German said.
Dog meat
. He lifted his pistol and shot Olin in the back of the head.
"Hundefleisch,"
the German said.
Dog meat
. He lifted his pistol and shot Olin in the back of the head.
Anna jumped at the noise, a sob escaping her.
From near the ruins of the log cabin, the two leaders of the attack force casually wandered toward them. The
small Indian woman, though naked, moved casually, as if through a garden party, all curves and smooth legs. She wore a talisman resting between her breasts. Manny had first thought it was a leather satchel, but as she neared, he recognized it as a shrunken head. The hair atop the disgusting trinket was shaved.
small Indian woman, though naked, moved casually, as if through a garden party, all curves and smooth legs. She wore a talisman resting between her breasts. Manny had first thought it was a leather satchel, but as she neared, he recognized it as a shrunken head. The hair atop the disgusting trinket was shaved.
The slender man at her side, dressed in white khakis and a rakish Panama hat, noticed his attention. He lifted the necklace for the others' view.
Manny spotted the dog tags.
"May I reintroduce you to Corporal DeMartini." He laughed lightly, as if he had made a joke, a party amusement, and dropped the defiled head of their former teammate back to the woman's chest.
Sergeant Kostos grumbled a threat, but the AK-47 pointed at the nape of his neck kept him on his knees.
Louis smiled at the line of kneeling prisoners. "It's good to see you all together again."
Manny recognized a distinctly French accent.
Who was this man?
Who was this man?
Professor Kouwe answered his silent question. "Louis Favre," the professor mumbled under his breath, his expression sickened.
The Frenchman's gaze swung to Kouwe. "That's
Doctor
Favre,
Professor
Kouwe. Please let's keep this courteous, and we can be done with this unpleasant matter as quickly as possible."
Doctor
Favre,
Professor
Kouwe. Please let's keep this courteous, and we can be done with this unpleasant matter as quickly as possible."
Kouwe simply glowered.
Manny knew the man's name. He was a biologist banned from Brazil for black-market profiteering and for crimes against the indigenous people. The professor, along with Nate's father, had shared an infamous past with this man.
"Now, we've counted heads here and seem to have come up a few short," Favre said. "Where are the last members of your little troupe?"
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