The Secret Path

by Karen Swan

  Her feet began moving on autopilot again. They had been going for several hours yesterday, the sun still climbing into the sky, before she had even remembered about the black star leaves, and the realization she had left them behind had stopped her in her tracks. Such had been her desperation to get away from Alex, the entire reason for being there had slipped from her mind and her failure to deliver what she’d promised felt all the more acute because of it. She had placed her needs above that poor child’s.

  She could only hope Alex would bring them back with him. Once he’d realized what she’d done – forced, by his actions – he would have headed back too, surely? He wouldn’t leave them behind to spite her? He might be many things – ruthless, ambitious, unprincipled, uncompromising – but spiteful wasn’t one of them.

  She tried not to think about how he had found out she had gone – she tried not to imagine the look on his face when he’d checked in on her hut and found it empty. Maybe he had waited a while, letting her rest properly and sleep in, or perhaps too ashamed of how he’d behaved – drunk on exhaustion and aguardiente and nostalgia – to rush to face her again. But then, eventually, he would have had to; he’d have seen her things gone. It would have gone around the village that William – his old mentor, guide and friend – had gone too.

  He’d have put two and two together and . . .

  That was the moment she kept envisaging as her feet moved, left-right-left-right . . . She saw the change in his eyes, the growing slackness of his lips, the paling of his skin as he understood she had abandoned him, walked away again. She saw in microscopic detail his feelings of hurt, of rejection. And anger too. Hate me, then.

  She wondered what time he’d left, and how far he was behind them. Would he take the microlight? He couldn’t catch them on foot, of that she was pretty sure. William didn’t walk as fast as Alex but they must have had a head start of at least three hours and she had a feeling – but couldn’t be certain – their route back was different.

  It had still been pitch black when they left. The head torch – which Alex had chivalrously given her the first night in case of midnight loo trips – had been the only way for her to see as they picked a route through the trees. William needed no assistance at all; even the sliver moon appeared to be, for him, merely decorative, an ornament in the sky. Rather, he moved as if by instinct, understanding the sway of the land, its stories and secrets, an inner compass guiding him through the landscape of his ancestors. She trusted him implicitly.

  They had slept the night before in a cave, behind a waterfall. Perfectly dry. She had been too terrified to approach at first, explaining to him what had happened to her with the canoe and going over the falls and he had seemed strangely unsurprised by it, almost as though he might have expected it. Because of her naivety? Her Westernness? He had simply held out his hand and led her onwards, behind the furious water, where not a drop touched her.

  He hadn’t brought anything with him, only a hunting knife sheathed on his belt, his walking stick and a bag of stones that appeared to be important. A shawl, knotted diagonally over his shoulder by day, had been wrapped around him as a blanket while he slept. That was all.

  He had checked the wound by her elbow for her, explaining that what she had thought was just an infected scratch had in fact been invaded by an insect, which had laid its eggs in her skin. Left untreated, he had said, those eggs would have turned into a worm. Instead, the leaf sap he had rubbed in and covered with the leaf when she’d arrived had killed the worm within two hours – that was the ‘activity’ she had felt, and the wound was now healing quickly. It both grossed her out and fascinated her. Even steroid cream couldn’t work that fast.

  She looked ahead to the sparkling strip of sea stretching along the horizon. The lights of faraway ships twinkled at the earth’s edge and she knew somewhere, beyond where she could see, lay Jamaica. Jed’s family had originated from there, coming over the Caribbean Sea to hunt turtles here back in the thirties and forties. He found it both ironic and pleasing that he now worked for a man whose foundation was set up specifically to protect those creatures, and many others.

  Jed. She wondered still how he was and again sent her fervent wishes into the sky that he had reached hospital before any brain swelling became problematic. She wondered if his family knew. If her family knew. Was her father aware there had been serious problems out here with the ranchers? Alex’s tone on the matter – like Jed’s – had been evasive, eye contact averted; he clearly hadn’t been telling her the whole story. But her father, writing the cheques and putting his name to the project . . . he had to know, surely? Unless Alex was keeping it from him too.

  She would need to talk to her father when he got here. She frowned, trying to think when that would be. The handover was happening Friday, and today was . . . today was . . .? Everything had become such a blur, what with no phones, no clocks, no watches . . .

  Was today Thursday? Or Friday? No. It had to be Thursday . . . Or perhaps Wednesday?

  She began thinking back, counting the days since they’d left England on Saturday evening . . . It was Thursday. The handover was tomorrow, which meant her parents would be arriving today. They were all supposed to be flying up to the Lodge tonight. Right now! Her, Rory, Miles and Zac, Holly, Dev and Jimmy. All of them. There was no way she couldn’t be there. Her father had taken his fortune and committed to giving away ninety-five per cent of it with the brushstroke of a pen. It was a historic act of singular philanthropy. Even Chuck Feeney, the co-founder of DFS and her father’s old friend, had taken decades to give away his $8 billion fortune; her father was doing it in less than one. That was what he had liked so much about Alex’s proposal: the purity of the project, its sheer simplicity. One problem, one man; one cheque, one decade, one solution.

  She had to get back to Puerto Viejo as soon as possible. She would walk faster, she had been walking through the pain for days now anyway. Summoning an energy she didn’t know she had, she broke into a run, closing the gap between herself and William.

  ‘William, how much further? We’ve got to get there tonight,’ she panted, catching up with him.

  He didn’t turn. ‘No.’

  ‘We have to. You don’t understand, I have to be back for tonight. We’re flying up to the Lodge for the handover. My parents are arriving today and I can’t not be there.’

  ‘It is not possible.’

  ‘But—’ She frowned. How could it not be possible? It was a two-day hike to Alto Uren from the foothills of Puerto Viejo. Jed had told her that, and she and Alex had managed it in a slightly shorter time thanks to the microlight. She and William had already been travelling for almost two full days too. Surely they should have arrived by now?

  ‘Look, I’m sorry if it’s a push.’ She gave a tight smile. ‘I’ve lost track of time the last few days and been distracted, but there’s no way I can’t be there. We have to keep going, even after sundown if necessary.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s not like we didn’t start in the dark. We can finish in the dark too. I don’t mind.’

  ‘It cannot be done.’

  She stared at him, confused about why he was being so . . . obstructive. He seemed like a different man here to the one she’d met in camp. He hadn’t smiled since they had started the walk; there was no trace of the easy-going, jokey manner he’d had when she’d arrived with Alex. She had put it down to him concentrating on navigating. Even for someone with his bank of knowledge, the jungle was still a place fraught with danger; he had to concentrate.

  Then it occurred to her. His was a bartering community; she had to haggle.

  ‘Ah. You want more money.’ She shrugged. ‘Okay, that’s fine, I can pay more.’ She had thought the sum she had offered him to get her off this mountain and back to the beach had been more than generous; although frankly she couldn’t imagine what use he would have for her money full stop. The village was entirely self-sufficient.

  ‘No.’

  He turned and began walking away again
.

  ‘William!’ she barked to his back. She ran again, getting ahead of him this time. ‘I’m sorry if I haven’t made myself clear but this isn’t negotiable. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you I need to get back to Puerto Viejo tonight.’

  ‘And I have said it cannot be done. Puerto Viejo is four days from here.’

  ‘Four . . .?’ Her voice trailed off as she looked around them with a new alertness, a dawning panic beginning to creep through her bones. She had trusted him solely on the basis that Alex did too, blindly assumed he would help her simply because she had asked (and paid) for it. But now she saw the situation clearly. For the past two days, she had put her faith in a complete stranger, a man whose manner, now she reconsidered it, was more than diffident – it was quietly hostile.

  She took a step back, feeling her entire body go cold. ‘Oh my God, where are we?’ she whispered. ‘William? What’s going on?’

  ‘They’ve fucking kidnapped her!’ Miles gripped his hair with his hands as he began pacing the length of the beach bar.

  ‘We don’t know that for sure,’ Holly said, trying and failing to keep him calm.

  ‘What? You think it’s just a coincidence that she’s disappeared in the jungle the day before the world’s press gathers to witness Dad’s grand gesture?’

  Holly swallowed. ‘We—’

  ‘Jed got jumped!’ His arm swung towards the man sitting – at Holly’s insistence – oversized on the small stool. ‘How do you know that wasn’t a failed attempt to grab her? For all we know, it was her they were after, not him!’

  ‘To be honest, that’s what I thought too,’ Alex agreed. He looked over at Rory. ‘And it’s partly why I didn’t tell you she was with me. You’d identified her as heading for Alto Uren. If the guys who jumped Jed had been listening in on those channels . . .’

  But Rory’s eyes narrowed. ‘Partly?’ he asked pointedly.

  Holly saw the tension billow between the two men again, and Miles was no better. He kept glowering at the guy who had destroyed his sister’s life – he had been shaping up to punch Alex himself when he’d been blindsided by the news that his sister was missing.

  ‘No. They were after me,’ Jed said quietly, sitting on the stool. He was still weak and Holly was keeping a close eye on him. He was constantly pushing his luck, doing too much too soon. He ought to have gone straight to San José on Monday, as Tara had tried to arrange, but no one had been able to get him out of the ambulance – the suggestion of not getting home to his wife had raised his blood pressure to a degree that was more worrisome than the head injury. To placate him, they’d been forced to divert to the local hospital instead. It had been sheer luck that it was just a bad concussion after all. His arm had been set in plaster, the shoulder checked, and he’d been home again that same night. ‘I know the guy who jumped me. He’s a rancher who’s been giving us lots of trouble.’ Jed glanced at Alex, his hands fiddling nervously with the damp muslin-wrapped parcel Alex had handed over to him when he’d arrived at the bar. ‘Miguel D’Arrosto’s henchman.’

  Alex gave a nod that suggested he knew exactly the man.

  ‘A rancher,’ Miles echoed, planting his hands on his hips. ‘And why should a rancher be giving you trouble, Jed? Is it personal? Do you owe him money? Did you sleep with his wife?’ Jed’s head jerked up, his eyes glowering in a flash. ‘Or is it because you and your family work for my father?’

  Jed’s heavy silence was confirmation of the latter. It was all the proof Miles needed that Tara had been taken.

  Holly looked over at Alex, who was rigid and pale-faced. His eyes kept darting everywhere as though his brain was firing off thoughts and theories that flitted like dragonflies, dancing and uncatchable. Holly had seen the look that bloomed on his face when she’d told him Tara hadn’t come back here . . . It was a look she knew all too well. She saw it all the time at work when parents brought in their sick and injured children, husbands their wives . . . It was pure fear. Pure love.

  ‘It can’t be William,’ Alex muttered. ‘It can’t.’

  There was a silence as everyone tried to work out who William was.

  ‘. . . Who’s William?’ Dev asked blankly, on behalf of them all.

  ‘The shaman in Alto Uren. He’s a friend of mine.’

  ‘How good a friend?’ Holly asked sceptically.

  ‘I lived in the village for nine months shortly after I moved over here. He was my mentor. There’s no way he could be involved in this.’

  ‘So then why are you suggesting he might be?’

  Alex hesitated. ‘Because he wasn’t at the village yesterday morning either.’

  They all looked at one another in horror.

  ‘But that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s with Tara,’ Alex said quickly. ‘He could have gone picking leaves for his medicines. He often gets up before dawn and goes into the jungle alone.’

  Holly stared at him. ‘But when you realized that Tara had gone, and then him too . . . what was your initial instinct?’

  Alex swallowed. ‘That they were together. I assumed she’d asked him to help her get back here.’

  ‘That would seem to be the logical thing,’ Rory said evenly. ‘As we all know, Tara is a rational woman. She lives by order and rules. Anything . . . unpredictable frightens her.’ His words were loaded, his gaze openly hostile. They both knew what he’d done to startle her.

  ‘It’s weird that she would leave without you, though, Alex,’ Dev said. He had missed Holly and Rory’s initial conversation about Alex. He had only come out of the sea when he’d seen Rory punch Alex to the sand, a figure from all their pasts. ‘I mean, after you went to all the trouble of helping her get there, why leave while you were still asleep? That would surely suggest she was . . . taken, rather than that she left of her own accord.’

  Holly sighed, knowing this wasn’t the time for tact. ‘What Rory’s referring to is that Alex kissed Tara the night before she left,’ she said with her usual brevity.

  Dev’s eyes widened. ‘Oh fuck.’

  Miles’s eyes narrowed, for he had missed the revelations earlier too. ‘You did what?’

  Rory’s hand had pulled into a fist again too, but Holly reached an arm out and patted his arm. ‘Not right now. You can all knock ten bells out of each other later. We need to concentrate on finding out where Tara is first.’

  Zac stepped into the conversation: an impartial observer, he knew nothing of Tara and Alex’s traumatic history. ‘Okay. Let’s look at what we know,’ he said, trying to summarize with his usual legal clip. ‘She left the village at some time in the night, either voluntarily or she was taken. This William guy is also gone, so he may or may not be involved. But you think not, Alex.’

  ‘Not in a sinister way, no.’ Alex shrugged. ‘As soon as I realized they’d gone, I took off. I didn’t see anyone else, it was still early. I thought I might be able to catch them up.’

  Zac thought for a moment. ‘Is there any way William could have been helping her back here, but they got lost?’

  ‘Would it be possible for you to get lost walking down one end of Sloane Street to the other?’

  Zac frowned. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Precisely. That’s what this place is to William. Getting lost is not an option.’

  ‘. . . Okay. I’m just trying to cover all angles,’ Zac muttered, not appreciating the sarcasm. ‘Could they have had an accident?’

  Alex stared at him for a moment and Holly could see the panic swimming in his eyes, his face paling before them. He looked away sharply and began to pace. ‘I would have . . . I would have seen them.’

  ‘Would you, Alex? Surely there’s more than one way up or down those mountains?’ This time it was Miles throwing sarcasm.

  Alex shook his head, as though he didn’t even want to hear the suggestion. ‘You don’t understand. William is a part of the jungle; he knows the animals that live in it, the trees and flowers and bushes that grow in it. He knows what heals and what poisons. He
knows the gorges and the rivers. The seasons. The weather. He can read it all.’

  ‘But accidents can happen to anyone, at any time. That’s what makes them accidents.’

  Alex stared at Miles darkly. Their bad start ten years ago hadn’t mellowed with time. No one spoke for several moments, all painfully aware they were completely blind as to Tara’s predicament. She might have been kidnapped, or maybe not. She might be safe with William and injured, or unsafe with him and injured; she might be uninjured and safe with him, or uninjured and unsafe with him. She might be alone and lost and injured . . . The possibilities were endless.

  ‘We should get a chopper up there, looking for them,’ Miles said decisively. ‘Start covering some ground.’

  ‘Miles, even if you were standing in the trees immediately beneath the helicopter, you wouldn’t see it,’ Alex sighed. ‘The canopy cover is absolute. You won’t see anything at all from the sky.’

  ‘So then what?’ Miles cried, throwing his arms out in frustration. ‘We just do nothing and wait here for her to come back – or not? My parents land in an hour. What am I supposed to tell them? That she’s lost and we did nothing?’

  ‘Of course we’re not going to do nothing,’ Holly said, stepping in again to calm frayed nerves. ‘We just need to keep coming at this logically. Tara’s not an impulsive person. There will be a . . . traceable train of thought to her actions.’

  Rory’s stare slid towards Alex again. They all did. Alex turned away with a gulp of air, his face turned towards the ceiling, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Hate me, then.

  ‘But that is precisely my point. If this wasn’t to do with her choices,’ Miles said, his voice tremoring with suppressed fear. ‘If she didn’t choose to leave but was taken . . .’ He let the intimation hang in the air. There would be nothing to follow; how would they ever find her out there?