Amazon Burning (A James Acton Thriller, #10) (26 page)

It had a
massive runway, capable of handling the largest of aircraft, and it was used to
test their newest designs, including the latest rip-offs of American, Russian
and European aircraft. This was the fundamental advantage China had over every
other developed nation on earth—a complete lack of immigration. Western nations
had immigration, and China was one of the preferred sources, the population
usually better educated, spoke English, were known for working hard, and
usually didn’t bring any religious baggage.

But what
the politically correct West couldn’t admit publicly, was that there was no way
to know how many of these immigrants were legitimate, and how many were actually
working for the Chinese government. Time and time again Chinese immigrants were
being arrested for selling or giving secrets to their former homeland, yet
there were just too many to know who else was involved.

And Kane
had spied on enough senior Chinese officials to know that there were elements
within the Party that were already developing a Fifth Column throughout the
world should the day arise when they needed an enemy crippled. This was why the
US government was secretly scrambling to figure out a way to make their
telecommunications and power infrastructures redundant without alarming the
public.

When
all your tech is made in China…

His
satellite phone vibrated a priority flash pattern in a pocket in his ghillie
suit, one designed by him to fit this particular terrain perfectly. He would be
nearly invisible to anyone and with the scopes he was using, he was so far
away, he doubted anyone would think to look this far.

He
slowly, carefully, curled his body away from the complex and fished his phone
out, the display in dark-mode meaning the backlight had been disabled and
instead the e-ink display showed him what he needed to know.

Leroux?

Chris
Leroux was a buddy of his from high school, and one of his few friends. He was
also a top analyst at the CIA headquarters in Langley and Kane had tasked him—on
the side—to monitor any communications from the Professors’ area.

He
must have found something.

Kane
took the call, and cursed after he heard what Leroux had found.

Command Sergeant Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson kicked the corpse, just
to make sure it was a corpse. It was. The operation had gone smoothly with the
hostages rescued and the hostage takers eliminated. His team had merely
provided support, taking out the guards with several sniper teams, allowing the
Colombian Anti-Narcotics Brigade to enter the drug lord’s compound swiftly and
undetected—that is, until it was too late.

The
entire op had taken a week of planning and ten minutes of execution.

“He
overreached this time, eh, senor?” The Colombian commander, Colonel Rodriguez,
kicked the same body. “He never should have kidnapped the American Ambassador’s
son.”

Dawson,
his face behind a ski-mask, as were all of their faces, nodded. “They think
they’re untouchable sometimes.” Which was when guys like him liked to reach out
and touch. The more arrogant, the more satisfying the takedown.
How I wish I
had been there to take down Osama!
He had spoken to some of the SEALs
involved and though they like he didn’t glorify killing, they privately
admitted it was one of their more satisfying ops.

Today
was merely saving one idiot kid who had snuck away from the secure compound he
lived on to see his Colombian girlfriend. She was the other hostage they had
saved today. Lucky for the kid he was connected, which meant Delta had been
sent in and US resources used to track him. He had been quickly found, an op
put together, and now a couple of dozen body bags were filled, that many fewer
vermin breathing the same air as he was, and the American Ambassador’s son having
hopefully learned to think with the right head.

His
phone vibrated. “Excuse me,” he said to Colonel Rodriguez, stepping away as he
answered the call. “Speak.”

“Hey BD,
I’ve got some more info for you before you move on.”

Dawson
smiled as he climbed into an armor plated SUV that had just pulled up, Sergeant
Carl “Niner” Sung behind the wheel, his Korean-American features hidden behind
his still in-place ski mask. He settled in the passenger seat then motioned for
them to roll. “How do you know I haven’t rescued the professor already?”

“Considering
you just finished your op, I’d say that would be a neat trick.”

“How the
hell do you know that?”

“I know
everything. Now listen, BD. This situation just got a whole lot more serious,
and a whole lot more dangerous.”

As Kane
dropped the bombshell on him, his head began to shake back and forth.

Even
in the middle of the goddamned jungle those professors manage to find trouble.

“I’ve
arranged for transport for you and your team. The details have been sent to
your phone. Try to get there ASAP. It might already be too late.”

“Keep
the intel coming. We’ll get there.” He paused. “Has this been sanctioned?”

He could
almost hear Kane smile. “Well, I’ve got no objections if that helps.”

“It
doesn’t.”

Dawson
killed the call and read the file that had been sent to his phone. He activated
his comm. “No rest boys, we’re heading into the heart of darkness.”

Barasana Village on the Rio Negro, Northern Amazon, Brazil

Tuk had been carried off the boat and placed in one of the communal
huts on the suggestion of Laura. “He might feel more comfortable on dry land
when he wakes up.” It had made sense to Reading and his reunion with Kinti was
delayed again, it initially little more than a hug and peck before explanations
were given to the elders as to why, once again, they were disturbing their
village.

And once
again they had proven more than accommodating, inviting everyone ashore, food
and drink offered as the young Tuk was carried by Reading and Acton to the
lodge. By the time he was in a bed, covered, he was moaning, about to come to.
Laura sat beside him, holding his hand, something Reading wasn’t sure was wise.

The
tosser kidnapped you just three days ago.

He of
course knew exactly what Stockholm Syndrome was, and he also knew Laura well
enough to know she wasn’t the type to succumb. In this case he knew she was
simply being herself—a caring, kindhearted woman who wanted to help people,
even if they had somehow wronged her. As long as it was a wrong she could
forgive. He had no doubt should someone hurt her husband or one of her students
there’d be no controlling her vengeance.

She’s
the strongest woman I know.

He felt
Kinti’s hand squeeze his and he smiled at her. Tuk moaned and those gathered
all leaned in. “Let’s give the poor lad some space, shall we?” Reading’s voice
boomed, startling those who didn’t know him. Fabricio translated and the crowd
backed off as Reading decided he wasn’t needed. He began to walk toward the
other end of the communal home when Tuk began to babble. Kinti spun around,
nearly breaking her grip with Reading. Her jaw dropped and she looked up at
Reading, her eyes wide with excitement. She pointed at her mouth then in the
direction of Tuk.

Reading’s
eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what she meant, but Kinti saved him.

“I
speak!”

She
pointed again then rushed back to the bedside of the ailing young man, Reading
following as he realized his “girlfriend” might be the solution to their
problem. Their hope had been they might find someone who spoke his language,
many of the tribes speaking those of neighboring tribes, it apparently common
to send the girls to other tribes to meet prospective mates.

How
Kinti hadn’t found a mate, I’ll never know.

It
suddenly occurred to him that perhaps she wasn’t considered attractive among
her people. He had to admit most of the women he had seen did nothing for him,
but a few were quite beautiful, like Kinti. Perhaps what he as a Westerner
found attractive, her people didn’t.

Their
loss, my gain.

A twinge
of regret suddenly haunted him, though. He knew this relationship would be over
the moment they left, and no matter how he felt about her, he wanted her to be
happy. And he knew that meant her finding a husband, marrying—or whatever it is
they do—and having children. But he estimated her to be easily in her early
twenties, which he assumed was quite old to not have yet married.

Maybe
she
is
the town tramp? Bad reputation, not
worthy of a mate.

He
chastised himself silently, anger seething through him at the thought of
imaginary people saying anything negative about her. He knew nothing about her
tribe, about her ways, about
her
for that matter. He simply knew she was
a loving, caring, kind girl who had given herself fully to him, knowing nothing
of him as well. Perhaps like he, she too merely needed comfort. Perhaps she had
lost her husband years before and spent the time since alone, like he had after
leaving his wife.

But now
this young woman, who he cared for so deeply, so quickly, was talking rapidly
back and forth with Tuk, whose eyes were lit with an excitement he hadn’t yet
seen at being able to communicate with someone.

And once
again Kinti amazed him.

These
people aren’t at all what I thought. They aren’t savages, they’re just like us
without the technology.

Reading
moved closer as Kinti turned to the elder and translated. The elder’s eyes
opened wide, then he spoke to Fabricio, who finally translated Tuk’s words to
English.

“He say
the Panther People have attacked his village.”

Reading
and Acton looked at each other. “Panther People?” asked Acton. “Is that a
tribe?”

Fabricio
asked the elder, who shook his head as he responded. “The Barasana haven’t
heard of them,” translated Fabricio as the elder asked Kinti something. The
conversation was slow and almost painful at times, but it eventually came out
that the Panther People were a legend about a tribe of natives who had betrayed
the Mother—the deity these people seemed to worship—prizing the skins of
panthers, leaving the rest of the carcass to waste. The Mother exacted her
revenge by sending a pack of panthers into the village, wiping them out, then
rewarding them with the power of man to punish any others who might defy the
laws of the Mother.

“Sounds
like a children’s story,” observed Reading. “Scare the kids straight, sort of
thing.”

“That’s
exactly what it is,” agreed Acton. “But he saw something that has him terrified
and stories don’t shoot guns.”

Reading
grunted. “Panthers are black, right?” he said, not waiting for an answer to his
rhetorical question. “Special Ops sometimes wear black, and that Parker guy
said his attackers were dressed in black head to toe, so…” Reading left the
suggestion dangling, incomplete, waiting to see if someone would pick up on his
thread.

Acton
was quick to. “That makes perfect sense. Somebody in full body armor, helmet,
goggles—Tuk wouldn’t know what to make of him. He’d fall back to the stories he
had heard growing up and these Panther People would fit.” He paused a moment as
the conversation continued between Kinti and Tuk. “If they attacked his village
then that means they’re almost definitely in Venezuela.”

“Which
means the Brazilians can’t really help beyond going to the UN.”

“Which
is useless. They’ll just blame it on Israel.” Acton gasped as he looked behind
Reading. Reading spun, not sure what to expect, but when he saw Milton in his
wheelchair, holding out the satellite phone, he was ambivalent. He knew
Fabricio and Milton had expressed concerns about appearing weak by not having
sacrificed Milton to the great unknown, but he was certain they were far beyond
that in their relationship with these people.

And the
fact a smiling native was pushing him seemed to confirm it.

“Phone,
Jim. It’s important.”

“Who?”
asked Acton as he and Reading quickly exited the communal lodge.

“Kraft
Dinner.”

Acton’s
eyes narrowed for a moment then he laughed. “Dylan?” Milton nodded. “I told him
to call back in five, I didn’t want the natives seeing the phone working.”

“Good
thinking, though the guides definitely saw us talking on them. I’ll head back
to the boat with you. Hugh, you stay with Laura. I’ll brief you as soon as I’m
done.”

Reading
nodded and returned to the long communal sleeping chambers, joining the group
still talking to Tuk. Kinti gave him a quick glance as he approached, beaming a
smile that could freeze time.

And he
wondered how much more of this his poor heart could take.

Acton, with the help of a couple of their new native friends,
managed to push Milton to the ramp and up onto the boat before Kane called
back. The entire time they struggled across the uneven ground, much of it sand,
his thoughts were of how bad his friend’s back must be.