Amazon Burning (A James Acton Thriller, #10) (23 page)

The old
cop smiled. “Then why do you have so much blood on you, senhor?”

Mitchell
held up his hands. “I have first aid training. I tried to help but there was
little I could do.”

The
smile spread as the man pointed to the wall behind him. Mitchell’s heart sank
as he saw a camera pointed directly at the cell. “Fortunately for you, senhor,
the camera is broken. But I like your story, it cleans things up very nicely.”
He jerked his thumb toward the door at the far end of the hallway. “But I don’t
ever want to see your faces again.”

Mitchell’s
head bobbed up and down rapidly as Jenny’s grip tightened noticeably on his
arm.

“Let’s
go,” said Henderson, his tone revealing a needed sense of urgency. Jenny pulled
the still stunned Mitchell toward the door, Turnbull and Henderson leading the
way. Mitchell was given a set of clothes, his old ones stolen or covered in
blood, a chance to clean up, then after a flurry of signatures on Henderson
approved paperwork, everyone was soon on the street. The four of them climbed
into a waiting car, Turnbull wisely in the front, Mitchell in the opposite rear
seat, Henderson apparently not willing to trust their fight was over.

As the car
put some distance between them and the police station, Mitchell finally began
to relax, the adrenaline rush over, his body slumping in exhaustion. Turnbull
looked at Mitchell as if he wanted to say something.

Mitchell
frowned. “What?”

“I just
have one question for you, then I’ll leave you alone.”

“What?”

“Did you
really rip that dude’s balls off?!”

All eyes
were now on Mitchell. He paled.

“Oh my
God! I guess I did!”

“Dude!”
Turnbull offered him a fist bump which Mitchell automatically returned, not
even registering the contact, shock beginning to set in.

“Did you
kill that man?” asked Jenny gently, still holding his arm tightly.

He
nodded. “I broke his neck, just like we were taught.”

“Taught
by who?” asked Henderson.

“Our
boss’ head of security. We’ve been trained in all sorts of self-defense
techniques.”

Henderson
nodded, his hand reaching into his suit. Mitchell gasped and Jenny yelped as a gun
was produced, pointed directly at them.

“Did he
teach you how to dodge a bullet?”

Barasana Village on the Rio Negro, Northern Amazon, Brazil

Reading looked up to see where the hail had come from. A boat was
pulling into the inlet they were moored at and several aboard were waving.
Fabricio returned the wave, coming out onto the back deck.

“The
rescue boat is here, senhors!”

“Just
after
the nick of time,” muttered Reading as Kinti, who had been sitting at his feet
humming as she weaved a basket, rose, helping pull him to his feet. He put his
arm around her as ropes were thrown to lash the new arrival to the Juliana. A
uniformed man stepped across a plank and onto the boat, Fabricio stepping
forward to greet him in Portuguese. Words were exchanged rapidly, the new
arrival pursing his lips as his head slowly bobbed. Finally he turned to
Reading and Milton who was now at his side.

“I am
Lieutenant Colombo. I understand your friends have been rescued.”

Milton
snorted then spun, apologizing as he did so. Reading glanced after him then
turned back to Colombo. “They should be arriving any time now.”

“This is
good news. They are very lucky.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “We will
wait until their arrival, then depending upon the time, leave either this
evening or in the morning.”

“There’s
a new problem,” said Reading, stepping back and motioning toward Steve Parker,
the Protect Amazonia Now environmentalist who until now had waited patiently
behind them. “Mr. Parker here says he and his team were ambushed by Special
Forces types several days ago.”

The
man’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Special Forces?”

Parker
nodded emphatically. “Yes. They were head to toe in black body armor, face
masks, machine guns. Definitely not run-of-the-mill security guards.”

Colombo
frowned, apparently not convinced. “Where did this happen?”

“Upriver
a bit, then inland about three days north-east.”

Colombo’s
eyebrows rose. “That’s Venezuelan territory.”

Parker
nodded nervously. “It might be. Does that mean you won’t help us?”

“It
means you need to deal with the Venezuelans.”

“Can you
help?” Parker sounded desperate. “We’re just environmentalists looking into
illegal logging. The rest of my team doesn’t deserve to die.”

Colombo
looked at Reading then back at Parker. “How many?”

“There
were six of us. I escaped, and apparently so did my friend Bob Turnbull. He’s
in Manaus with their people,” replied Parker, nodding toward Reading.

“This is
true,” said Reading. “He apparently stole a canoe and paddled down to Manaus
where he asked to borrow a satellite phone from two of our people coordinating
things there.”

“So your
people may already be sending help.”

Parker
shook his head. “That’s days away. They don’t have days.”

“What
makes you say that?”

“They
shot me!” Parker shoved his shoulder forward, wincing. “They’re obviously going
to kill them.”

“Why
would they do that? Did you see anything?”

Parker
shook his head. “No, we didn’t see anything. But I think we were close.”

“Why?”

“There
was a smell in the air. Something different. I can’t really describe it because
we were just catching wafts of it. Bob thought it was diesel, but I couldn’t be
sure. Whatever it was it wasn’t natural and it was being carried on the winds.”

“It
could have been a boat.”

Parker’s
jaw dropped. “Are you intentionally being difficult?”

Reading
almost chuckled but caught himself, though there was no preventing the smile
before it spread across his face. He caught the twinkle in Colombo’s eye. He
knew the man was simply doing his job, drawing out information from Parker by
playing part stupid and part Devil’s advocate. He’d done the same routine many
times in his career, and it was remarkable how much you could pull out of
someone, especially when they got frustrated. They began to try to convince you
of their story by revealing items they wanted to hold back, tidbits that might
incriminate them in something, but should their need for you to believe them
overcome their mouth-brain barrier, a font of information could be revealed
with one slip.

He had
no doubt this Colombo honored his fictional namesake.

I
wonder if he’s even heard of him?

He was
certain if he had he had been teased about it when joining the force.

“I am
not being difficult, senhor, I am merely asking questions. You are asking me, a
Brazilian police officer, to help a group of people who have crossed the border
into Venezuela—” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “You had permits for this
incursion, yes?”

Parker
blanched. “Well, ah, no, you see when we left, we didn’t know it was going to
be in Venezuela, we just sort of ended up there.”

“I see.”
Colombo rubbed his chin, pursing his lips as if deep in thought. “This could be
a problem. So what you are saying is you
illegally
crossed the border,
were caught, then were shot trying to escape, and now you need our help to free
your friends from the Venezuelan authorities.”

Parker’s
eyes were wide open in shock. Everything the Lieutenant had said was true, except
for the assumption it was Venezuelan authorities that had captured the group.
Reading still wasn’t convinced. Why would they not have markings on their
uniforms, and why would they be dressed the way they were if merely border
security. He decided he needed to step in.

“Lieutenant,
is it customary for the Venezuelans, or for that matter, your government, to
patrol the border in that area? Isn’t it environmentally protected?”

Colombo
turned his attention to Reading. “No, it is not common. In fact, unless the
Venezuelan government has decided to violate the treaty, they shouldn’t be
there at all. They have a border outpost at the Rio Negro and several
facilities along the river, but this area of the Amazon is supposed to be
protected from all activity more than one mile from the shoreline.”

“So
whoever is there is violating the treaty.”

Colombo
nodded then held up a finger. “Or is not party to the treaty.”

Reading’s
left cheek broke out into a smile. “Like a private security force guarding an
illegal logging operation?”

He
sensed Parker about to say something when he reached back with his arm and
squeezed Parker’s arm tightly and out of sight of Colombo.

Shut
up if you know what’s good for you!

Colombo
smiled from ear to ear. “You are a police officer, no?”

Reading
laughed. “Scotland Yard, over twenty years. Now I’m INTERPOL.”

“Ahh!”
Colombo’s eyes widened with respect and awe. “I have read many detective books.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Agatha Christie. I love Sherlock Holmes and Hercule
Poirot. I try to think like them when I have a crime to solve. And what was it
that Holmes once said? ‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever
remains, however improbable, must be the truth’? And if we assume the
Venezuelans haven’t broken the treaty—though that is an assumption, not a
confirmed fact—then it must be some private organization.” He sucked in a deep
breath, his chest swelling. “Mr. Parker, is it?”

Parker
nodded.

“Sir, I
believe your story. It would take a madman to shoot himself, and as you have a
second witness in Manaus, it has been my experience that madmen don’t often
travel together, but when they do, once separated, it is every man for himself.
But both of your stories apparently corroborate. Since we are no longer needed
here, you will come with us and we will head north to the border and enlist the
help of the authorities there. I will radio Manaus to have your friend picked
up for questioning so we can confirm the story and get corroboration on a
possible location for the ambush.”

Parker
seemed relieved, his shoulders slumping and some color returning to his cheeks.
“Thank you, Lieutenant, thank you so much!”

“Daylight
is running out. We have an hour to the border station if we hurry so we must go
now.”

Parker
shook Reading and Milton’s hand along with Fabricio’s. “Thank you all for
helping me. It’s appreciated. If you’re ever in Washington look me up, I owe
you.”

He
climbed across to the police boat as the lines were untied and the new arrival
pushed back from the Juliana. Moments later its engine was guiding them out of
the inlet and onto the river where it banked right and was soon out of sight,
its engine a mere memory a minute later.

Reading
sat down, Kinti resuming her weaving as Milton stretched his back. “I’m going
back down below,” he said, wincing. “Wake me if any more excitement occurs.”

“Why
bother?”

Milton’s
eyes narrowed questioningly then followed where Reading was pointing. At the
far end of the village a group of natives appeared followed by Leather and his
team who were surrounding two exhausted looking professors.

Milton
grabbed Reading with one arm over his shoulders and squeezed him. “They’re
back!”

Reading
nodded as he looked down at Kinti, whose face was plastered with the sadness
his heart was encased in.

They
would be leaving within minutes.

And
their whirlwind romance would be over.

Forever.

Acton waved to Reading and Milton on the boat, his arm now tightly
around Laura’s waist. The entire village was gathering around, smiles
everywhere as a chant of celebration broke out. Leather’s team herded them
toward the boat and Acton was content to let them for now, but proper, formal
goodbyes would be necessary for those who had done so much to save a stranger,
asking nothing in return.

“Is that
Hugh’s girlfriend?”

Acton
grinned as he saw the young girl, easily eighteen inches shorter than Reading,
clinging to him. He felt a twinge in his heart as he saw the tears rolling down
her face, and the mixed emotions on his friend’s.

“Yes it
is. Her name’s Kinti. She seems to be a very sweet girl with a voracious sexual
appetite.”

“James!”
Laura swatted his arm.

“Hey, I
had to listen to it all night!”

“That’s
terrible! Let the poor man have his privacy!”

“Then he
shouldn’t have shagged her rotten in a communal hut!”

“I’m
sure it wasn’t like that.”

“You’re
right, it wasn’t. She shagged him rotten. I think he mostly laid back and
enjoyed the ride.”

He was
slapped again, but this time at least there was a giggle accompanying it.
“Stop, he’ll hear you!”