A young male approached Wright’s body and sniffed at him. Unafraid, the ape sat beside him and inspected Wright’s hair. It was then that Wright shifted, bending a leg.
“Thank God!” Maggie exclaimed. He’s alive.
She scooted herself back with her legs and leaned against a tree. She breathed through the pain and repositioned her arm. Nothing else seemed to be broken.
The female ape continued to minister to her. A small face appeared over the shoulder of Maggie’s nurse and regarded her with curiosity. Her baby. The little one’s hair stood straight up, and its coal-black eyes examined Maggie and made a funny expression.
Maggie couldn’t help smiling. All things in perspective. Then she looked beyond mother and child to see the entire congress of great apes sitting quietly, observing, chomping jungle grasses, and chatting among each other with grunts and chirps.
Then her eyes fell on the quivering human body, and the harsh reality of the situation hit her square on. Her arm was broken, and Wright was severely hurt. They were somewhere in the jungles of Borneo. She had no idea where.
CHAPTER 51
RESCUE
Nick was beside himself. It had taken them all day to get to Wright’s lodge. The sun had set hours ago, and the moon was the only light in the sky. He’d strong-armed Boxler into releasing a plane to fly them to Kuching. She resisted until Nick told her about Wright drugging Maggie and putting a camera in her room. He also threatened Boxler with jail time. He had no idea if it was possible, but he told her that if she didn’t cooperate, she would be considered an accessory to a crime. Whatever tripped her trigger, Boxler quickly became helpful. Then, once in Kuching, it took four more agonizing hours to get to the lodge.
When they arrived, it was empty.
The door was locked, but Nick threw a chair through one of the large windows and forced his way inside. Maggie’s bag and clothing were there, but there was no sign of her or Wright and no indication of a struggle. Nick’s shoulders drooped, and he sighed with helplessness.
On the journey Nick had wished for a firearm or some weapon. Robert had stopped a passing boat and convinced the occupants to loan him a blowgun and darts. He also asked them to motor to his longhouse and ask some of his young men to meet them here.
As they had approached the lodge, adrenaline surged through Nick’s veins, and he’d readied himself for a fight. But once they arrived, there was no brawl. But maybe that was fortunate. Nick was so angry, he might have killed Wright with his bare hands.
“Now what?” Nick turned to Robert. He could see determination and anger in the old man’s face. His gentle eyes had become as fierce as any Iban warrior’s.
“His boat is here,” Robert said. “They must be out there.” He waved his hand to the jungle. “We need to look for them.” He sniffed the air as if he could sense peril. “There are greater dangers out there than Mr. Paul.”
“Where would they go?” Nick asked. “Why would they go out there?”
“Hunting or adventuring, I suppose. We must be careful. Mr. Paul often carries a sidearm into the jungle.”
Nick followed Robert to the porch. “Lead the way.”
“Nickloss, there are many trails leading into the jungle. We have no idea which one to take. My men should be here in an hour or so; maybe we should wait?”
“Maggie may not have the luxury of time.”
Robert nodded. “Then we must pray and hope we choose wisely.”
Nick dropped to his knees. He knew Robert was correct—they were lost without divine guidance. “Father help us. Show us the way we should go. Father, protect Maggie.”
Robert joined him in an amen.
Nick stood, then walked to the back of the lodge. As Robert had indicated, many trails branched off from the main pathway. Nick took his headlamp off the top of his head and shined it at the dirt, looking for prints. The trail was hard, compacted clay, and there was no clear sign of which way to go.
Left? Right? Straight? “Which way, Father?” Nick prayed.
The logical way was to go straight on the widest path.
Take the path less traveled, the voice in his heart said.
His mind wrestled with his heart. I hope that’s you, Holy Spirit.
“I think we should go this way,” Nick said and started down the trail to the right, the narrower, more overgrown path. Robert followed, using his blowgun as a walking stick.
They had gone a quarter of a mile, and the night was getting darker and darker. Then, as if by a miracle, Nick’s headlamp revealed a beautiful sight in the middle of the dirt path—Maggie’s scarf.
* * *
Maggie shivered in the cool night air. Fear had already made itself at home in her mind, and now shock was settling in. The orangutans had moved into the trees for the night, out of harm’s way. Maggie tried to splint her arm as much as possible to prevent the ends of the bones from grinding together and sending violent spasms through her body. She inched closer to Wright. She was able to roll him over and was glad to see he was conscious. He blinked at her, dazed and confused.
“Kumārī, what happened?” he murmured. “Where are we?”
“Wright,” she said firmly. “It’s Maggie.” She wanted to tell this man who had raised his hand to slap her to stop calling her his princess, but chastising him made no sense. He was her only lifeline out of the jungle. “Where do you hurt?”
Wright winced and hugged his ribs. Maggie thought the orangutan must have broken them. She knew it could be worse. If his spleen had ruptured, he’d already be dead. A large bleeding gash on the side of his head was matted with clot and dirt.
Supporting her broken arm, she made it to her feet and staggered to where she thought the orangutan had tossed Wright’s gun. She found the pistol on the ground and then tore a large leaf from the foliage. She’d use the leaf to compress Wright’s bleeding head. But, holding both the plant and the pistol, she was unable to support her broken arm. Horrific pain shot up and down her limb. She panted through the spasm. Then she made her way back to Wright and collapsed by his side. Forcing herself through the discomfort, she put the leaf on the wound and pulled his hand up to hold it.
“Wright, do you know where you are?”
He uttered a strange, incoherent sound.
“Wright?”
He cleared his throat and said, “Kumārī, we must get out of the jungle. We are not safe.”
“Do you have any idea which way is the lodge?” In the dark, nothing looked familiar.
“Lodge?” He looked at her with unfocused eyes.
Maggie knew it was up to her.
A light rain began to fall, and lightning flashed in the night sky. They would die of hypothermia if she couldn’t get them to shelter. She hesitated, then leaned against his body for warmth. How could she have gotten so lost and trusted a man who was clearly unstable? Father, help me.
She heard a sound from the jungle and glanced over her left shoulder. She heard it again. Were the orangutans back? She squinted, trying to pierce the darkness. Something was there.
The rain began to fall harder, making it difficult to hear the sound. It was not the grunt of the orangutans—it was a low growl of a predatory animal. A lightning strike lit the area and momentarily she saw a flash of the animal—a leopard.
Ignoring her pain, she reached for the gun that she had set down beside her. She was an excellent shot with her right hand. Since she couldn’t use it, she’d have to rely on her left. She awkwardly picked the pistol up with her left hand. The large bore gun was heavy, and her hand shook with the weight.
The leopard disappeared, then reappeared at her right, then disappeared again.
The leopard was stalking them—gauging its approach, looking for the best attack. It could take its time and toy with them—a cat with a mouse. The predator had been drawn by the scent of blood.
Maggie glanced at Wright. He would be no help. She could move away from him and let the big cat feast on the madman’s body. She imme
diately thought better of that. She couldn’t live with herself, even if Wright had gone mad.
She aimed the gun toward where she’d last seen the leopard. If the .357 had the usual six bullets in it, she had five left, but with the predator’s speed, she would only get one or two shots off before the leopard was on top of them. Then she saw it.
The big cat slinked out from the bush probably ten feet from them. Lightning flashed, showing its marbled spots. A clouded leopard. Beautiful, but deadly. It hissed at them as though smelling the threat of the gun. Then it paced one way and the other.
Then it stopped. Maggie saw it winding up to pounce. She had to shoot it, but her hand shook so violently she could not get it in her sights. It leaped, and she shot, knowing she had missed the mark.
The leopard was hovering in midair when a roar and flash of movement burst from the jungle. The leopard was grabbed and ripped from its trajectory. The huge male orangutan had returned, not to harm them, but to save them. The ape caught the predator with one of his enormous arms, swung it over his head like a rag doll, and threw it against a tree trunk, ending its life.
The orangutan roared in victory and beat his massive chest. Maggie collapsed over Wright, and her world went to black.
* * *
Nick heard the shot and took off on a dead run with Robert at his heels. They hurtled over tree roots and ignored thorns tearing their skin. The rain fell harder, coating the trail with slick mud. Nick went down hard on his back but ignored the pain. He jumped up and pushed through the night. Lightning flashes illuminated the jungle in light and shadows. His lungs burned, and his legs filled with lactic acid, putting them in danger of collapsing as they raced through the night and storm.
“Maggie!” he yelled at the jungle and rain and lightning. “Maggie!”
They sprinted another hundred yards, and Nick stopped, thinking he’d lost their way. Then he heard something, something human. The rain hit the foliage hard, obscuring the sound and saturating the rainforest with the sizzle of white noise.
“This way!” Robert yelled and darted south.
Nick caught up to Robert, who held out his arm to stop him.
“Maggie!” Nick called breathlessly. He strained forward, but Robert held him. Nick stared at the sight in the light of his headlamp. Maggie lay crumpled over Wright’s body. Nick tried to break free of Robert and lunge toward her, but Robert continued to hold him back. He tried shaking off the old man’s grip until he heard the roar of a gigantic animal standing over Maggie.
Lightning flashed through the canopy and showed the massive beast; his enormous black face roaring and revealing yellowed fangs. He stood upright on his hind legs, swinging his arms aggressively overhead. The monster’s eyes flashed red in the light of the headlamp, and Robert knelt, pulling Nick with him and covering Nick’s headlamp with his hand. The beast radiated intimidating power. It bellowed again, trying to decide if the humans were friends or foes. Having decided in the affirmative, it took one long leap into the tree overhead, swooped over them for one last acknowledgment of who was king of the jungle, and fled the scene.
Nick raced to Maggie and knelt at her side. “Maggie!”
Her hair was matted and soaked over her face, and her body shook with hypothermia and shock, but she was alive.
“Nicklaus. Thank God.”
“Maggie, I’m so sorry.” He tried pulling her close, but she cried in pain. “Where are you injured?”
He let go of her shoulders and instantly saw the deformity of her upper arm. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” Water dripped from her face as she shook her head.
“Nicklaus, I am so sorry.”
It was just like Maggie to take the blame. He smoothed her hair back from her face. “It’s okay, Maggie. We’re here now.”
Wright moaned and shifted. A confluence of emotion flooded Nick’s mind. He was glad Wright was alive but wanted to bash his head in with a rock.
He turned back to Maggie. “What happened?”
She could barely get words out of her chattering jaw. “The orangutan…he saved my life…our lives. Wright’s hurt pretty bad…broken ribs…head.”
Nick felt the pulse on Wright’s neck. It was weakened but present. He looked up at Robert, who stood over them. “We have to get them back to the lodge.”
Robert nodded and looked around as though looking for a phone to call 9-1-1.
“Robert?” Nick asked.
“Listen.” Robert held up his hand for silence.
At first, all Nick could hear was the storm. Then he heard something else. Men’s voices calling through the rainforest.
Robert pointed into the darkness and cried out.
His yell was answered with more calls.
“How did they find us?” Nick asked.
“We are Iban,” Robert said proudly. “We are the guardians of the rainforest.”
CHAPTER 52
REVENGE
Robert’s men helped transport Wright and Maggie. She tried to walk the first mile, but her legs grew weak and it became necessary to carry her the rest of the way. Nick took his shirt off and wrapped it around her arm and chest to support the fracture. It only helped a little with her pain, but it was all he could do at the time.
Bouncing Wright down the trail on the back of one of the men was not the safest or healthiest mode of transportation for his broken ribs and head injury. One of Robert’s men who was not fond of Wright suggested leaving him, but Robert scolded the man and told him it was not the way of Jesus.
As soon as they arrived at the warmth and protection of Wright’s lodge, Robert turned on the heat. They set Maggie on the sofa, wrapped her with blankets and gave her warm fluids. Wright was laid on the bed, dazed but slowly regaining consciousness.
Nick tended to Maggie’s injury by cutting off the end of a sock and sliding it up her arm. He found two bamboo sushi rollers in the kitchen drawer and wrapped them tightly around the break. He secured them with a stretch bandage from the first-aid kit he’d found in the bathroom. He fashioned a sling and swath from one of Wright’s shirts. During the process, she winced a few times, but for the most part, he was able to stabilize her arm without causing her too much pain.
Mission accomplished, Nick smiled at her. “That okay?”
She nodded.
He couldn’t tell if she was still in shock, hurting, upset, or all the above. He wanted to tell her what he’d learned about Wright, but when he started to do so, she cut him off.
“Nicklaus, I am sorry. I…” Tears streamed down her face. “I have been so stupid. I don’t know what got into me.”
“Well, start with some Welltrex,” Nick said. He could no longer keep his anger to himself.
Maggie looked at him with confusion.
“That jerk has been slipping you Welltrex,” he said, pointing at Wright.
She looked shocked.
“In your coffee,” Nick exclaimed.
“Are you kidding me?” Color and anger rose in Maggie’s face.
“And spraying your room with some sort of spray,” he added defiantly.
“Spray, what do you mean?”
“Maggie, I don’t know what it means, but we’ll get to the bottom of it.”
Maggie glanced in horror at Wright and back at Nick.
Nick hesitated, but she had to know. “Maggie, there is more.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s been spying on you…in your room…with a camera.”
Maggie covered her chest with her uninjured arm and moved away from Wright’s direction toward Nick. Then dropped her shoulders and started to cry.
“Oh my God, what have I done?”
Nick put his arms around her and pulled her close. “It’s all going to be okay, Mags,” he said and tenderly kissed her forehead. “He will not hurt you again. That I promise you.” He looked out the windows. It was still pitch black. “Get some rest. We’ll head downriver at first light.”
* * *
Wright cou
ld barely open his eyes. He squinted, recognizing the interior of his lodge. Then he remembered. He’d regained consciousness on the back of one of Robert’s men. After a mile or so bouncing along, he recalled what had happened. It was Maggie’s fault. He had been so angry at her he almost hit her. He thought he would never hit a woman, but she had infuriated and dishonored him. Her disrespect had to be set straight. He’d raised his arm to strike her. Then the orangutan hit them like a bullet train.
He was lucky they were still alive.
His head throbbed, and he sucked in shallow breaths to protect his broken ribs. Something told him to play possum. How did they get here? How did the men find them? Why were they here? He didn’t understand until he’d heard Nick talking to Maggie.
Damn.
Wright was a trapped animal in his own home. Adrenaline pumped through his brain, giving him clarity. If only he could call Boxler, she would make it right, as she’d done so many times before.
His gun. Where was his gun? He wondered if he’d killed the beast. It deserved to die; it had attacked them. He felt no remorse about killing it. He felt no remorse for anything. He’d never understood that emotion; his brain didn’t allow it. To him, it was as abstract as intimacy.
He saw Nick and Maggie cuddling on the couch and rage throbbed in his chest. How dare she, after all I’ve done for her?
He lifted his head and saw Robert asleep on a chair and the other Iban men scattered around the room, asleep. His mouth was dry with thirst and revenge. How was he going to survive this? He had no other guns. Where was his machete?
He would let the men get him back to his island, where he had control. His army of attorneys would work their magic. It might cost him a few million to silence Maggie and Nick, but that would be easy. He’d made a mistake in giving Nick the job. He’d thought it was the best way to control Maggie—keep your friends close and your enemies closer—and Nick was his enemy. He thought he could manipulate the situation by having influence over Nick’s destiny.
The Rusted Scalpel Page 33
