Amazon Burning (A James Acton Thriller, #10) Read online

  “Is he sure?” demanded the law enforcement officer.

  Fabricio’s head bobbed rapidly.

  “How many?”

  “He say only one.”

  “When?”

  “Just now, just before he shot the gun.”

  Acton shoved himself back to his feet. “Then they haven’t gone far, especially if she’s resisting.”

  “Silence!” yelled Reading, and they all listened for her shouts, but there were none. The guard came forward with the other men from the boat, all armed, saying something in Portuguese to his captain. Fabricio questioned him again and the man repeated his answer. Fabricio turned to Acton.

  “He say she knocked out somehow. The man carry her over his shoulder.”

  “She’s not here!” announced Milton from the boat.

  “She’s been taken by a native!” yelled Acton.

  “What?”

  The confusion was evident in Milton’s voice but Acton didn’t have time to deal with it. He pointed at Fabricio. “We need flashlights, guns and your best trackers.”

  “Flashlights and guns we have, but none of us is trackers.” He pointed into the jungle. “And to go in there at night, it is suicide!”

  Acton grabbed at his hair in frustration, the time ticking by painfully evident as with each second she was another step away. He turned to Milton. “Get me the spare satellite phone, iPad, manual charger, Taser, Glock, five mags, and food and water for three days.”

  “I’ll go help him,” said Reading, rushing toward the boat.

  Acton turned to Fabricio. “Can you radio for help?”

  “Yes, senhor, but it will take at least three days to arrive.”

  Acton was pacing in circles, indecision threatening to take over when he stopped and took three deep, slow breaths, his finger held up to silence everyone around him.

  He opened his eyes.

  “Are there any tribes here that could help us?”

  Fabricio shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps, but we won’t find them until morning, and by then I fear it will be too late.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Whoever took her knows the forest, he will not be found unless he wants to be found.”

  “Why would he take her?”

  Again Fabricio shrugged. “Any reason. He might want wife, trophy, food.”

  “Food?”

  “He might want to eat her.”

  “There’s cannibals here?”

  “There are rumors.”

  Acton growled in frustration as Reading ran down the ramp, two backpacks in hand. He tossed one to Acton. “Everything you asked for is inside.”

  Acton took a quick look to confirm, then disappeared into his tent, dressing in more appropriate clothes to help protect him from the jungle, then threw a few extra pairs of socks and underwear, along with his utility knife, in the bag. He reemerged with Reading preparing to leave, Milton struggling to join them.

  “What can I do?” he asked.

  “Stay on that boat and make sure they don’t leave. Try to radio for help and tell them cost is of no consequence. See if they can fly in a search team, task a goddamned satellite if you have to.” He pointed to the satellite phone in Milton’s hand. “Keep that on you at all times, and charged. We’ll check in every hour if we can. Don’t call us just in case we need radio silence.”

  Milton nodded, gripping their lifeline in both hands.

  Acton turned to Fabricio. “From this point on you are all being paid triple.” He pointed at Milton. “He’s in charge. You do as he says. In the morning I want you to try and contact a local tribe to see if they can help.”

  Fabricio looked terrified at the prospect but nodded, greed overcoming fear.

  “Are any of your men willing to come with us?”

  Fabricio translated and the other five men stepped back slightly, looking away.

  Cowards!

  “Very well. You’ll hear from us in an hour.”

  He turned toward Reading who was already pointing at the ground. “I see footprints here.”

  Acton stepped out of the light of the fire and into the inky black of the forest.

  “Let’s go get her back.”

  Northern Amazon

  Three days before the attack

  Tuk rushed as quickly as he could, dodging around the trees, his deeply attuned eyes able to see sufficiently. The shouting in the distance had faded to nothing, replaced by the nocturnal creatures of the forest, too many of which were deadly. The safest course of action would be for him to find a place to shelter for the night and begin the return to his village in the morning, but unfortunately that wasn’t an option right now—he had to put distance between him and the Spirit People.

  He had taken their woman, their only woman. Whether the fact she was the only woman was of significance, he had no idea, however the mere taking of her he was certain was.

  But she went willingly!

  Surely they would know that? Surely they would realize that he, a mere man, could never take or harm a Spirit Person.

  Unless they think you somehow bewitched her.

  It was true. They had no way of knowing whether or not he was a medicine man, capable of manipulating the Spirit World. They would probably work under the assumption she had been taken against her will, which meant they would do everything within their power to get her back, or at least ask her if she were here against her will.

  His heart warmed with the knowledge that she had left willingly, had allowed his dart, made by man, to penetrate her Spirit World skin, to allow the venom it was laced with to take effect. He had been so shocked it had worked, for a moment he had hesitated before actually carrying through with his plan.

  She had been silent since her initial call, a call which had elicited an excited response, of that there was no doubt. Which had him wondering just what she had said. If it was ‘goodbye’, then why would there be excitement at their camp? If it was ‘help me’, then why was he able to take her if she, a Spirit Person, was unwilling?

  Maybe what affects man affects Spirit People as well, if they are willing to be treated as equals?

  The thought excited him. It meant the dart had knocked her out as it would a human, and it gave him even more reason to believe she was here willingly. And if things affected her the same as any other woman, should she be willing, then she would be capable of loving him, of mating with him, and of being mother to his children.

  He pressed on, more certain now than ever he had made the right choice, and his life was about to finally turn around.

  Acton had adjusted the flashlight to give as wide a beam as possible, as had Reading, but it was slow going. Extremely slow. And it was frustrating him to the point where he was almost of no use.

  They had no idea where they were going.

  He stopped, holding out an arm for Reading whose labored breathing was evident to Acton, despite his friend’s attempts to disguise it. Acton aimed his light at the ground. “We could be going in circles for all we know.”

  “Or in a straight line but in the wrong direction,” agreed Reading. “This is useless in the dark.”

  Acton’s chest tightened as his friend said what he himself was thinking already. They were liable to get themselves hurt or lost, and be of no use to Laura.

  But he had to go on.

  “Here’s what we’ll do,” he said, shining his light up between the two of them so they could see each other’s faces. “You go back to camp, I’m going to continue forward to the north, then swing back south in an arc and see if I can find any trace of them. If I don’t, I’ll return to the camp by morning, if I do, I’ll send you the coordinates and you and the others can join me.”

  Reading was shaking his head the entire time. “I’m not leaving you out here alone.”

  Acton put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Listen, I’ll be fine. I’ve been in jungles before. But I’m worried about Greg. He’s weak, and he’s going to try to stay awake the
entire time. I need you to relieve him so he can get some rest. Also, if those on the boat try anything, two against six is better than one man who can barely walk.”

  Reading frowned at the sound logic. Acton pulled out the phone and activated the map, showing their location relative to the river. They were painfully close, their progress negligible. Acton pointed to their left. “Straight that way not even half a mile. If you come to the river and don’t see the camp, you should be within shouting distance. If not, go south.”

  “Why south?”

  “Because you’re right handed.”

  “So?”

  “So, people tend to drift toward their dominant hand. If you go off course, you most likely will go to the right slightly. Compensate by going left when you get to the river.”

  “And if I drift too far?” asked Reading with a bit of comic attitude.

  “Then it’s been nice knowing you, I hope you find a nice native woman to settle down with and make a few more babies.”

  “Ha ha. One marriage in a man’s lifetime is enough punishment.” He pointed out his bearing. “Half a mile?”

  Acton nodded.

  “Okay. Stick to the schedule though. Contact me in thirty minutes.”

  “Will do. Now go.”

  Reading slapped Acton’s shoulder, his face grim, Acton easily able to see this was tearing Reading apart, but they both knew this was the right decision. Milton was weak and only getting weaker, and Reading was slowing Acton down. As he watched his friend depart, he smiled.

  “You’re drifting!”

  “Fowk off!” came the reply as he disappeared into the trees. When the dancing of Reading’s flashlight finally disappeared, Acton struck out directly north, his flashlight examining the ground closely as he made a point to slow himself down, but he soon realized it was useless. He’d have as much luck spinning on his heel with his eyes closed and arm outstretched.

  Let nature be your eyes and ears.

  It was something he had been told once by a Navajo Indian years ago. He stopped, closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing so as to minimize the sounds coming from him. He took a knee, his own sway as he kept his balance distracting. To his left, toward the river, he could hear the sounds of something moving loudly.

  Reading.

  Something screamed.

  He spun toward the sound, still kneeling, trying to focus on the direction. It wasn’t human, it was some sort of animal, probably a primate, but it was a single scream unfortunately not to be repeated. But if he wasn’t mistaken, it was directly away from the river, deeper into the rainforest. The vast majority of primates were diurnal, meaning they should be asleep at this time of night. If one were disturbed it would scream just like the scream he had heard.

  At least that’s what his well-read mind was telling him. The truth was he had no idea, but it was his only hope. Something had disturbed the creature, and he could only hope it wasn’t some other animal native to the rainforest.

  He headed deeper into the darkness, toward what he hoped might be his stolen love and her abductor, and in the distance behind him he heard a yell from Reading, answered by another, and took comfort that his friend had made it back to safety.

  The Woman of Light moaned but Tuk continued forward. He had unfortunately in his haste woken one of the many small primates that they shared the forest with, its protest loud, and if the Spirit People were smart, a beacon as to where he and his future mate were. It was essential he put as much distance between him and the shore, the natural habitat of the Spirit People. He prayed to the Mother that their powers would dwindle to nothing should they get too far away from their home on the mighty river, and maybe by daybreak they would be either too afraid to continue the pursuit, or they would be mere men, mortals like him, with no advantages from the Spirit World.

  She moaned again and it was clear the dart was beginning to wear off. He quickly laid her down then propped her up against a tree. He gently smacked her cheek several times and the moaning increased. Suddenly her eyes fluttered open and as she looked at Tuk, she appeared confused then she gasped, shouting out a curious word, the same word he had heard when he took her the first time.

  He slapped his hand over her mouth as she was about to scream again.

  “You must stay quiet,” he said as calmly as he could. “I will not hurt you. Do you understand me?”

  Evidently she didn’t.

  What language do the Spirit People understand?

  He knew they spoke to each other in a tongue foreign to him, unlike any he had ever heard, not even from other neighboring tribes, but he had always assumed they would be able to speak all languages.

  But what would be the need of that?

  They were the Spirit People. They would have no need to communicate with those like him. They looked so different from him, their pale skin, their strange coverings, that to think his people when they died became them was almost unimaginable. It made him wonder whether the stories of what happened after death were even remotely true. If these spirits weren’t his dead ancestors, then where did the dead go? Was there even an afterlife?

  The very thought filled him with a fear and confusion he had no time for. No afterlife? It was crazy, but here he was, the only one of his people he knew to have seen one of the Spirit People so close.

  What if the Mother Herself isn’t real?

  He felt an anger build inside him as he stared at the terrified Woman of Light. What do you have to be scared of? You who would destroy everything I believe in! She must have sensed his anger, and he took a deep breath, realizing it wasn’t her fault. And was his faith so weak that it would fail within minutes of questions being posed?

  He would need to speak to the medicine man, of that there was no doubt. And this one’s spirit would need to be cleansed before she could become his mate. Perhaps through their mating, she would learn his language and be able to answer the questions that filled his mind, to assuage the doubts he now had, everything he had believed in his entire life crashing down around him.

  But for now he had to get her out of here, her cry most likely heard by her friends.

  He had no idea how swiftly the Spirit People could move through the forest, but he had to assume faster than him, at least while still close to the shore. He desperately wanted to ask her, but instead motioned for her to keep quiet. She nodded her head, just as he would if he understood someone, so assumed it meant the same thing.

  This is so hard!

  They continued forward, this time with her at his side, his hand gripping her arm tightly so she wouldn’t try to run away. And she didn’t, again reminding him that she had come willingly.

  Acton stopped again, listening, but there was no doubt at what he had heard. It was Laura, calling for help. And from the tone, she was scared, and not far. Within earshot in a forest filled with thousands of things to diffuse sound and prevent it from carrying.

  She was close.

  And alive!

  He marked the spot on the GPS where he now stood in case he had to return to it since it gave him a radius for any search in the morning to start from. Running in the direction he thought he had heard her cry, he soon reduced himself to a brisk pace, the root covered ground simply too dangerous to traverse in the dark without eyeballing every foot placement with the flashlight. As he continued forward he dialed the satellite phone.

  “Milton here.”

  “Hi Greg, it’s me. Got a pen and paper?”

  “Yes.”

  He gave him the GPS coordinates. “Have any search start from there. I heard her call for help due east of those coordinates. I don’t know how far her voice would carry, but I can’t see it being more than a mile in this.”

  “So she’s alive.”

  “She was two minutes ago. Did Hugh make it back?”

  “Yeah, he’s on the radio now. I think he’s trying to reach the British Embassy but isn’t having much luck.”

  “Use the phone.”

 
; “We were keeping it clear for your call.”

  Acton stumbled, almost dropping the phone and realized he needed to take a new bearing. “Listen, contact Rita, and get her on the case. And Terrence.”

  “Rita? My secretary?”

  “You know what she’s like.”

  He heard Milton laugh. “Yeah, she won’t quit, that’s for sure. And Terrence?”

  “Laura’s grad student, he worships the ground she walks on. He won’t stop at his end either. His number should be in the phone.”

  “Okay, I’ll make those calls right away.”

  “Good. I’ll check back in one hour.”

  He killed the call and checked the GPS. He was still heading in the right direction, though trending a little to the right, or south. He continued forward, compensating, his bearing on Laura’s voice in no way precise. When he had travelled about a mile on the GPS he paused, listening some more.

  This is ridiculous! I’m guessing!

  If Laura’s abductor were carrying her over his back, he couldn’t be going very fast. Not at night. Not through a jungle. He didn’t care who the person was, they had to be slow. It had been an hour. That left at most a five mile radius from the campsite, probably half that. He was about three miles from the shore now and had kept a decent pace since he had heard Laura’s shout, so he should be at least travelling at the same pace, if not making up some time.

  But he needed a bearing.

  “Laura!” he shouted as loud as he could, the jungle protesting with an eruption of noise.

  “James!” came the reply almost immediately. To his left, to the north-east.

  And close.

  “Laura, it’s me!” he shouted. “Just stay alive! Just stay alive and I’ll find you!” He knew he was giving away his position, and possibly hastening his opponent’s escape, but he had to let her know there was hope. He marked the spot on the GPS again, rushing forward as he dialed the phone.

  Voicemail.

  Greg must be making those calls still.

  He left the coordinates and his new bearing then hung up, trying to keep himself moving forward as quickly as possible without breaking a leg or twisting an ankle. Suddenly he came into a small clearing, a fire smoldering in the center, mere embers now. A shout to his left had him reaching for his gun when he thought better of it, the tip of a spear now pressed against his throat.