The Promised One (20 page)

‘Dad … Dad!’ Richard was jerked out of his reverie by Lucy. ‘What on earth are you daydreaming about? We’ve things to do!’ With a guilty start Richard was relieved to remember that his daughter could only read animal thoughts and not his own.

‘I think you’ll find it’s all clear in the radio shack now,’ she continued briskly. ‘I’ll come with you in case we need to call up more reinforcements but somehow I don’t think it’ll be necessary.’ Lucy threw Chopper’s gun into the river and they strolled across to the radio hut. Richard gaped in astonishment when he saw the seething carpet of ants and the enraged faces of the men at the cabin windows. The panther strolled nonchalantly up and down outside the radio shack just in case anyone felt like making a dash
across the sea of ants. She had been joined in her patrols by the jaguars operated on by Sing Song, which had been recalled from the jungle by Lucy in preparation for their veterinary treatment.

‘Don’t tread on any ants, Dad,’ said Lucy. ‘They think we’re the good guys and we don’t want to confuse them.’

They went into the shack and Richard called José Verdade back in Macapá.

‘José? It’s Richard. Thank heavens you’re there, even on New Year’s Day! I was worried about what Chopper might have done. Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine,’ José replied against a background of noisy static. ‘I’ve been coming in every day in case you called. It’s great to hear you again – thank God you’re safe. Where are you?’

‘I’m at Cayman Creek,’ said Richard. ‘Listen, I need to fire a lot of information at you so get a pen and paper ready.’

‘OK, but first I must tell you that there’ve been a lot of developments here. I’ll give you a quick summary. Apparently the police in London got a garbled story about the kidnapping of a girl in which the Ecocidal Timber Company was involved.’

Richard turned to Lucy. ‘Looks as if at least one of your messages got through – well done!’

‘Anyway,’ continued José, ‘it turns out that the Brazilian authorities have had their eye on Chopper and his crew for some time – something to do with drugs – and this kidnapping was the final straw. They’ve got warrants to arrest Chopper, his brothers and some associates. I’m the
most senior innocent manager in the company, so it looks as if I’m now in charge. Someone flew over from Scotland Yard a couple of days ago – nice chap – and he’s been through all the company records with me. He flew to Manaus yesterday to join the local police and drug enforcement people. The company pilot, I’m pleased to say, is also innocent and he’ll guide the police and customs officers to Cayman Creek, so they should all be with you later today. There’ll probably be three planes in all.’

‘That’s great news,’ said Richard, ‘and the kidnapped girl, by the way, is my daughter Lucy who is standing here right next to me. Her adventures are a story on their own, which I’ll tell you when we meet. There are urgent matters to deal with first, though. Are you ready?’

‘Fire away!’

Richard then asked José to warn the police about the drug consignment due that day, to arrange a rescue plane for Helen and Julian, to fly a vet out to treat the jaguars, to obtain an emergency passport for Lucy and, of course, to contact the two sets of families at home.

‘Phew!’ said Richard as they left the shack, ‘I feel as if life is at last beginning to sort itself out. Now, what about this plane?’

‘All you have to do just now, Dad, is relax and enjoy the show. I’ll tell you when you need to do your bit. Let’s go and sit by the airstrip, eat our bananas and wait for the fun to start.’

Richard stumbled after his daughter in disbelief. He couldn’t begin to understand how his little girl had been
transformed into this decisive, resourceful young woman but he was intensely proud of her. He hugged her.

‘I feel so confident with you around,’ he said. ‘I’m quite enjoying a bit of role reversal after looking after you for nearly twelve years.’

‘It makes a change for me too,’ said Lucy. ‘You don’t think I enjoyed being a child slave for all that time, do you?’ She ducked to dodge a banana skin. ‘And my animals don’t want to see your rubbish around thank you very much, even if it is biodegradable!’

They sat in the shade by the little airstrip, Michelle, as ever, on Lucy’s shoulder, Katy curled up on her knees and Melanie now sprawled languidly alongside Richard. The monkeys chattered in the branches, taking it in turns to go and check on the prisoners. It was an unnecessary precaution, however, since the men had all seen the jaguars prowling around through their windows and none of them fancied a bare-handed grapple with the big cats.

Richard suddenly made an exclamation and slapped his forehead.

‘What is it, Dad?’ Lucy looked concerned and Richard quickly reassured her.

‘Oh, nothing too serious; it’s just something else I meant to say to José – boys’ talk!’ He grinned at Lucy as if to remind her of her own private chat with Helen at the crater. ‘I’ll nip back and call him again – back soon!’ Richard returned to the radio shack and made his call, then set off towards the airstrip.

As he hurried back along the path leading to the airstrip
he passed the dynamite store, which was situated some distance from the main camp for obvious reasons. The men all called it the ‘gelly’ shack as it was packed with cases of gelignite – the explosive that was used for ground clearance and illegal mining. As Richard passed the hut he suddenly felt his neck completely encircled by sharp, cold steel. He stopped instantly as the grip of the instrument tightened and bit into his flesh.

‘What’s the big hurry, mate?’ A coarse cockney voice came from somewhere to the side. Turning his head as best he could to the direction of the sound he saw Pollard standing in the doorway of the store. A rucksack was slung over his shoulder and he was holding a four-metre polling hook, on the end of which Richard was trapped by its encircling blades as securely as a gaffed fish. Richard had a similar tool at home for pruning high branches but this was something different: it was a heavy-duty power tool capable of slicing through very large branches – branches as large as Richard’s neck in fact, and at the moment it sat snugly around it. Richard’s mouth ran dry as he felt the serrated edge of the massive blade millimetres from his windpipe. It was so sharp that he could feel the teeth tearing the surface of his skin just from the slight movement he had made to bring Pollard into view. The length of the pole meant it was of the question for him to try to grapple with the man.

‘Well, if I’m not mistaken, you seem to have a way with ants. This is the second time I’ve seen you strolling past as if they didn’t exist. What is it? Don’t they like the smell of
your feet or something?’ His face cracked into a toothless grin at his own wit. Richard’s first thought was one of relief that the fellow obviously hadn’t seen him with Lucy on their first trip along the path together.

‘Well, whatever it is,’ Pollard continued, his face reverting to its natural scowl, ‘you’ve come at just the right time to see me over to the radio shack. I need to call up a spray plane to clobber this lot.’ He took his hand off the pruning hook to gesture at the sea of ants. He paused and looked at the unwieldy tool; it was going to be impossible for him to use it to control Richard while he went into the radio shack and operated the equipment. His face lit up as he thought of a hands-free solution to the problem.

‘I can’t hold on to this thing all the time so I think I’ll just take one little precaution to make sure you stay on your best behaviour. Oh, and I advise you to keep very still while I get things ready – you don’t want to go losing your head over this, do you?’ Once again he laughed at his own joke as he lowered the handle of the pruning tool to the floor. Richard winced as the blade bit deeper into his flesh with the change of angle. Pollard slid the rucksack off his shoulder to the ground and opened it.

‘Enough gelly in here to take out a plane, but this stick looks just your size.’ He took a stick of gelignite from the bag and grinned at Richard’s horrified expression.

‘I must say,’ he continued with obvious sadistic pleasure, ‘this could all be a bit of a blow for you.’

He fumbled in the bag again and withdrew a tiny electronic detonating device which he attached to the
stick of explosive. He then moved behind Richard who felt him tie the little package to his belt. Pollard once again took hold of the hook, but this time it was to remove it from Richard’s neck. He laid it on the ground and, before Richard could move, he took a remote control from his bush-shirt pocket and waved it threateningly in the air.

‘Now,’ he said grimly, ‘we’re going for a little walk. Any attempt at heroics and I press this little button. And make sure you stay a polite distance away from me, I’ve got this thing about getting blood and guts on my clothes. Get moving!’ He picked up the rucksack and slung it over his shoulder.

Richard started back to the radio shack. The ants parted for him and immediately began to surge behind him to close the gap. Pollard stayed as far behind Richard as this gap would allow – about five paces – and behind him there was once again an uninterrupted sea of black. He was intent upon watching Richard and avoiding the ants, so was unaware of the jaguars silently patrolling the camp. They, of course, saw him, but assumed that he was accompanying Richard and left the pair unmolested.

As they neared the shack Lucy reappeared. Fearless of any animals, she had taken a short cut through the forest rather than the winding path past the dynamite hut. She had returned to see where Richard had got to, concerned that the drugs plane could arrive at any moment, and stopped in surprise and horror when she saw the two men. Pollard recognized her instantly: as site manager he had taken all the blame for Lucy’s escape and he felt he had a large score
to settle with her. It was a task he was going to relish.

‘You!’ he exclaimed. ‘Couldn’t manage out there on your own any longer and came back to throw yourself on our mercy, eh?’ He glanced at the patch of ground on which she stood, seeing that it was completely clear of ants. ‘And I see you’ve got the magic bug repellent too. Well, I’ll see to you later. In the meantime, no funny business or this bloke gets it – in the back.’ He gestured with the remote control to the charge on Richard’s back.

They continued to the shack and, seeing it was free from ants, Pollard told Richard to stand to one side as he passed him and went in the door.

‘Come and stand where I can see you!’ he called, as he slipped the half-open rucksack off his shoulder, put it down near the doorway and went over to pick up the radio transmitter. Richard stood several paces from the open door facing Pollard. He glanced at Lucy who gave a nod and, pointing to her legs, stood with them close together so there was no gap between them. Richard immediately understood and did the same thing. Anything approaching him from behind was now concealed from Pollard. A few seconds later he felt a scrabbling behind his legs and then sharp teeth tugging at the ties fastening the gelignite to his belt. Pollard, glancing at him now and then, could not see the squirrel at work. Soon he was cursing as he realized that nobody was going to answer at the other end – he’d forgotten it was New Year’s Day – and, as he turned to slam the transmitter down in disgust, he didn’t see the squirrel replacing the primed gelignite stick in his rucksack.

Pollard came out of the hut, blinking as he emerged into the bright sunlight. He surveyed the impassable sea of ants once again, desperately trying to think of an alternative plan of action. As he went over the various possibilities in his mind he fiddled idly with the remote control device in his hands and, as he watched, Richard broke out in a cold sweat. There was enough gelignite in the rucksack to comfortably see them both off, and probably Lucy and half the camp as well. Suddenly a crafty look crossed Pollard’s face and he turned to Richard.

‘How did you get here?’

Richard saw no point in telling anything but the truth. ‘By boat,’ he replied.

‘Where is it?’

Richard pointed to the path leading through the forest to the little jetty. It was about a hundred and fifty yards to the river, which was completely invisible from the camp. ‘Down there,’ he said simply.

Pollard picked up the rucksack and disappeared along the path to the creek.

‘I’ll be back!’ he shouted through the trees. As soon as he was out of sight Lucy ran to Richard and hugged him.

‘What a ghastly man!’ she said, her voice trembling with relief. ‘I really do believe he would have killed you if necessary – he’s a complete psycho.’

‘He may yet try,’ said Richard, who had formed the same opinion of his erstwhile captor. ‘In fact …’ His face suddenly froze in alarm. ‘… quick, run! And tell the animals to run!’ He grabbed her arm and they ran across
the camp and hid behind the storehouse on the far side. Animals and birds fled away from the jetty path and their alarm cries resounded through the surrounding forest.