Amazon Burning (A James Acton Thriller, #10) (34 page)

Kinti
nodded. “Yes.” That word he at least understood without translating. And it
shocked him. Others from her tribe gathered, all standing behind Tuk, as if
supporting him. One of their warriors, Skip, spoke to the new warrior and Kinti
translated for Tuk.

“Yes, he
is our leader.”

“
This,
this small, puny man?”

“His
name is Tuk, and you would do well to show some respect,” said Skip, stepping
forward and baring his teeth slightly as he gave a single shake of his spear.
He held out his free hand, palm open toward Tuk. “This mighty warrior survived
an attack by the Panther People, even managing to nearly pierce the skin of one
with a perfectly thrown spear. He then was able to escape them, despite their
magic, and find us!”

Skip was
telling a story now, a story that might well become legend, and Tuk could tell
by the way Skip was holding himself, his voice raised for all to hear, that Tuk’s
life would never be the same from this moment forward. Even if the tale being
spun was exaggerated, he could feel his own chest swell as the words poured
from this man’s mouth, a man who didn’t know him until yesterday, and a man who
was now at his side, willing to die to help his family and friends, people who
he had never even heard of before.

“
This
mighty warrior, singlehandedly battled a
female
yakumama snake…and won!”

Cheers
erupted around them and spears were shaken in the air as the hundreds gathered,
most hearing the stories for the first time, were emboldened with the courage
of their new leader. Tuk muttered to Kinti about Lau-ra being of great help but
she merely squeezed his hand, signaling silence.

“And for
those who doubt this deed, I saw the carcass with my own eyes! Opened down the
middle, its head cut off! Not only did he kill the beast himself, he then fed
on it, sharing his kill with one of the Spirit People!”

More
cheers, even the new arrivals beginning to be infected.

“And if
this is not enough proof of his courage as a warrior, three days ago he
captured and won the heart of a Spirit Woman, and took her to be his mate, then
when he discovered his village had been destroyed, his people taken by the
Panther People, he asked her people’s help, and they granted it!”

Skip had
to wait for the cheers to die, the crowd enraptured at the tale of bravery of
this small warrior, Skip’s storytelling abilities even having Tuk convinced in
the truth of the tale, at times forgetting it was his own exploits that were
being embellished.

“Right
now, the Spirit People, who many of us have feared, and now know, thanks to the
mighty Tuk, are human just like us, but from a land so far away they know not
our ways, even right now, they are going into battle to help us. To help stop
those who would destroy our villages, who would kill the great forest the
Mother has provided us, who would enslave our people! Even right now they are
going to fight, because this”—he grabbed Tuk’s hand and shoved it in the
air—“this great warrior demanded it!”

Tuk
fought back the tears of pride he now felt, every fiber of his being wishing
his mother and father could see him now, the elders who always insulted him,
Pol and TikTik who could see the faith they had in him hadn’t been misplaced.
But he knew tears right now would be the wrong thing to show. Strength was what
was needed.

And a
show of contrition.

He stepped
toward the mighty warrior, who he knew with one swipe of his hand could
probably fell him with ease, and extended both hands as a sign of friendship,
Kinti at his side to translate.

“I would
be honored if the mighty warriors of your tribe would join us in our fight, a
fight that we partake in not just for ourselves and our loved ones, but for the
great Mother Herself!”

His
wrists were clasped firmly by the other warrior, his face grim, but impressed.
And as he announced his decision, Kinti translating for him, he felt another
surge of ecstasy spread through his body.

“I and
my warriors are honored to fight for the great Mother and Her children. And we
are equally honored to fight alongside such a great warrior as stands before me
know. Let any man who would ever doubt him, answer to me!”

The
cheers were deafening as Tuk suddenly found himself embraced by the massive
man, he returning it as strongly as he could. More greetings were exchanged
with the new arrivals, and with the pleasantries, if one could call them that,
over, Tuk gave the word to move on.

And by
the time it spread, nearly a thousand warriors were behind him, all following
the great Tuk.

Illegal Rare Earth Element Strip Mine, Northern Amazon, Venezuela

Jenny gasped as the gate to their cell opened and two men dragged
the barely conscious body of Bob Turnbull inside. They dropped him on the
floor, Mitchell and one of the others leaping forward to catch him before he
fell. They carried him to the bed, laying him down, Jenny propping his head up
with a pillow as he moaned in agony.

“Water!”
ordered Jenny, one of the other environmentalists jumping at the sink to
fulfill her orders. Water was quickly brought, repeatedly, there only one small
tin cup, and a pillowcase was repurposed as a cloth to begin cleaning his body.

“They
barely touched his face,” observed Mitchell. “It sounded like he took quite a
beating over there, I’m surprised.”

Jenny
unbuttoned Turnbull’s shirt and gasped as his chest and stomach were revealed
to be pockmarked with angry bruises and welts, as if he had been beaten
mercilessly, his skin pinched and twisted repeatedly with some sort of tool for
the past several hours. The sight almost made Mitchell vomit as he realized now
the cause of the poor man’s screams they had been subjected to from the next
room, the only words his begging for his life, then eventually, begging for
them to kill him.

Anything
to end the pain.

All of
the hell Turnbull had put them through was forgiven as Mitchell watched his
wife try to clean up the man, to provide him some modicum of comfort, his pain
still excruciating as he writhed on the cot. Jenny simply kept applying the
cool cloth to his face and neck, careful not to touch any of his wounds,
instead simply cooing softly to him, he eventually drifting into a restless
sleep.

The
metal gates of their cell suddenly slammed open, waking Turnbull who saw Steven
Ling standing there again with a smile. He began to cry, curling into a ball,
turning toward the wall, away from his torturer. But it wasn’t to matter.

Ling pointed
at Mitchell.

“Come
with me.”

Mitchell
felt his vision narrow into a dark tunnel, his knees giving out as he collapsed
to the floor. His world became blurs and echoes, nothing distinct, until his
mind suddenly forced him back to reality, a warning being sent by his brain
that if he didn’t come to, he would have no opportunity to defend himself against
what was about to happen.

As he
snapped back to reality he felt his arms being gripped tightly, his feet
dragging on the ground, then his surroundings suddenly came into focus and he
realized it was too late—he was already out of his cell, Jenny’s voice screaming
for them to let him go, no one else saying anything.

They sat
him in a chair, clamped his wrists to the arms, his ankles to the legs. His
shirt was ripped open and he prepared himself for the first blow, his eyes
wincing, his head turning away.

“I think
we’ll try something different.”

He
opened his eyes and gasped as Ling motioned toward a nearby table upon which
sat among other things a car battery and jumper cables, along with some sort of
crude device that looked like it came out of the fifties, knobs and dials on
its surface.

What
the hell are they going to do with that?

One of
the men who had carried him in clamped the jumper cables to Mitchell’s nipples
and he cried out in pain.

A waste
of energy on his part.

For the
true pain was only about to begin.

Dawson lay prone on his stomach, just within the tree line, Niner at
his side. They had arrived about an hour ago and after scouting the area had
determined they were facing about forty hostiles, half well-disciplined
Chinese, the other half undisciplined Venezuelans. And they had confirmed it
wasn’t a logging operation at all, but some sort of massive strip mine.

The
mine’s perimeter appeared relatively unguarded, theft and safety not a concern.
It was the central compound that was well guarded by the Chinese, with five
machine gun nests at the edge of the cleared area, camouflage netting extending
over the entire zone, hiding it from overhead.

It was
incredible.

The mine
was huge, at least compared to anything he had seen in person. It was deep,
hundreds of feet, a long, winding road corkscrewing down into the pit. Within
they could hear heavy vehicles and humans toiling away miserably, along with
the shouts of the mostly Venezuelans working the slaves.

The
airstrip was just north of them, it too covered, a hangar with a single plane
the only structure. Leather’s men had cleared it then set up position
surrounding the mine, their orders to protect the native prisoners should it
become necessary.

The
final confirmation came in over his comm, the last team of two in position,
each machine gun nest covered. If they were going to succeed, surprise was the
key. The sun was just starting to set, it low in the horizon, the trees casting
long shadows, the netting obstructing the sun even more.

“Bravo
Team, Bravo One. Execute in three, two, one, execute!”

His
voice was barely a whisper, he too close to his targets to risk them hearing
him give the orders that would mean their deaths. As he and Niner both rose to
a knee, taking aim with their suppressed Glocks, their two targets, sitting
comfortably in their dugout position stopped their idle chatter and jumped for
the machinegun mounted behind the sandbags.

Dawson
squeezed the trigger, as did Niner, both targets down in heaps, dead. “Team One
clear, over,” he reported as he and Niner crawled on their bellies toward the
position so they wouldn’t be seen.

“Team
Four clear, over,” reported Spock, followed by reports from each of the other
teams. Dawson and Niner poured themselves into their enemy’s foxhole,
confirming the kills then moving the bodies out of the way.

Screams
of agony erupted from the compound, someone begging for mercy as he wailed at
the top of his lungs. Dawson surveyed the scene and was about to signal the
next phase when trouble erupted from the trees, a patrol they hadn’t known
about charging Red’s position from behind, Red and Mickey momentarily
distracted by the sounds of torture.

He
activated his comm.

“Red,
check your six!”

Leather was positioned near the road leading into the mine, the
compound about fifty yards away, the wails of the poor bastard being tortured
sending shivers up and down his spine. For he recognized the voice.

Terrence
Mitchell.

Suddenly
four men charged out of the forest, Venezuelan uniforms barely visible, rushing
one of the Delta positions. As they were about to open fire, they began to
shout a warning to the camp.

Leather
jumped to his feet and squeezed off four rounds from his MP5, taking down all
four men, silencing their warning, but too late. His men advanced from their
positions, covering the short distance to the pit of the mine, aiming their
weapons into the depths, the MP5’s effective firing range of 200 meters more
than enough to reach the bottom with accuracy should it become necessary.

As he
hit the deck, taking aim into the pit, he saw the Delta Operators move in on
the central compound just as the entire area was flooded with light.

So
much for the element of surprise.

Dr. Chen hit the alarm, the shots heard outside clearly not from his
men’s weapons, his own training while in the People’s Liberation Army enough to
familiarize himself with the sound of an MP5. He entered a code into his
computer that immediately began to wipe the entire network, there no paperwork
here that needed destroying. He stepped out of his office as several of his men
rushed by, weapons ready, the blood curdling screams of one of their prisoners
suddenly stopping.

He
grabbed one of the Venezuelans as they rushed by. “Kill the prisoners.”

The man
snapped a salute then exited the building, shouting for some of the other men
to help him. Chen unlocked a door revealing a set of stairs descending into
darkness. The lights automatically came on as he entered the stairwell, closing
the door behind him. Without rushing, he calmly descended the stairs then began
his escape through the secret passage that would open several hundred meters
into the forest, where he’d be able to await the arrival of the reinforcements
that would be here in less than 24 hours.