by Bear Grylls
‘Carson hired the C-130 and crew?’ Narov queried.
‘He did.’
‘Then Carson is a suspect. I never liked him anyway. He is an arrogant Schwachkopf.’ She glanced at Jaeger. ‘There are two kinds. The nice Schwachkopfs, and those I utterly despise. You – you are one of the nicer ones.’
Jaeger glared. He couldn’t get his head around Narov. Was she flirting with him now, or playing with him like a cat did a mouse? Either way, he figured he might as well take the backhanded compliment.
Alonzo appeared beside them. ‘I figure you gotta call the HAV,’ the big Afro-American suggested. ‘The Airlander. They’re doing P-WAS, right? Persistent wide-area surveillance – they should have it up and running by now. Ask them what they’ve seen.’
‘You’re forgetting something,’ Jaeger objected. ‘I make a call, we get a Hellfire up our ass.’
‘Send data,’ Alonzo suggested. ‘Data-burst mode. Predator takes a good ninety seconds to trace, track and acquire a target. Data-burst – it’s gone in the blink of an eyelid.’
Jaeger thought about it for a second. ‘Yeah. I guess it should work.’ He glanced at the edge of the chasm. ‘But I do this out there. Myself. Alone.’
Jaeger powered up his Thuraya. He typed a quick message, secure in the knowledge that he’d only acquire the satellites to send it when out in the open.
The message read: Grid 964864. Comms being intercepted. Team targeted: Hellfire. Query drone? Comms now only encrypted data-burst. What has Airlander seen? Out.
Jaeger stepped to the brink of the river gorge.
He emerged from under the canopy and held the Thuraya at arm’s length, watching as the satellite icons bleeped on to the screen. The instant he had a usable signal, the message was gone, and he powered down, hurrying back beneath the jungle.
Jaeger and the team waited in the shadows, the tension thick as they counted out the seconds. A minute passed: no Hellfire. Two minutes passed: still no missile strike.
‘That’s three minutes, buddy,’ Alonzo growled at last, ‘and still no Hellfire. Data-burst – looks like it’s gonna do the business.’
‘It does,’ Jaeger confirmed. ‘So, what next?’
‘First, you need to let me tend to that head of yours.’ It was Leticia Santos. ‘It is too handsome to get so hurt and damaged.’
Jaeger acquiesced, letting Santos do her stuff. She cleaned the abrasions to his arms, rubbing some iodine – a steriliser – into them, after which she wrapped a thick gauze around his forehead.
‘Thanks,’ he told her, once she was done. ‘And you know what – as far as medics go, you’re a big improvement on the hairy commandos I’m used to.’
He moved across to Puruwehua, spending a minute or two explaining what had happened. Few of the Indians had had the slightest idea what the Hellfires might be. Death from the skies like that – it might as well have been a bolt of lightning sent by their gods. Only Puruwehua – who’d watched a bunch of war movies – seemed to have any sense of an understanding.
‘Brief your guys on what it means,’ Jaeger told him. ‘I want them to fully understand what we’re up against. Against Predator, blowpipes and arrows are utterly useless. They decide they want to turn back, I can’t say I’d blame them.’
‘You saved us on the bridge,’ Puruwehua replied. ‘There is a debt of life to be repaid. Our women send us out with a saying whenever we go to fight. It would translate something like “Return victorious, or dead”. It would be a deep dishonour to return to the village having achieved neither death nor glory. There is no question: we are with you.’
59
Jaeger’s eyes glowed with relief. It would have been one hell of a blow to lose the Indians right now. ‘So, I’m curious. Tell me – how the hell did I survive the fall on the bridge?’
‘You were unconscious, but your arms remained locked around the pyhama.’ Puruwehua glanced at his brother. ‘Gwaihutiga and me – we climbed down to fetch you. But it was my brother who finally prised you free and lifted you to safety.’
Jaeger shook his head in amazement. The simple understatement embodied in the Indian’s words masked what must have been a moment of sheer death-defying terror.
He eyed the young Amahuaca warrior – for Puruwehua was far more than just a translator in Jaeger’s eyes now. ‘So what you’re telling me, Puruwehua – the bravest damn frog in the entire jungle – is that the debt of life is owed both ways.’
‘It is,’ he confirmed simply.
‘But why Gwaihutiga?’ Jaeger asked. ‘I mean, he’s the guy who most wanted us killed.’
‘My father decreed otherwise, Koty’ar.’
‘Koty’ar?’
‘Koty’ar: it is what my father named you. It means “the permanent companion”; the friend who is always at your side.’
Jaeger shook his head. ‘More like you’re the koty’ar to us lot.’
‘True friendship – it goes both ways. And as far as Gwaihutiga sees it, you are now of our tribe.’ Puruwehua eyed Narov for an instant. ‘As is the ja’gwara, and the small man from Japan, plus the big bearded one on your team.’
Jaeger felt humbled. He stepped across the short distance to Gwaihutiga. The Amahuaca warrior rose to his feet at his approach. They came up against each other, face to face, each about the same height and breadth. Jaeger extended his hand for Gwaihutiga to shake in a gesture of heartfelt gratitude.
The Indian stared at it for an instant, then brought his eyes up to Jaeger’s face – his gaze a dark pool of nothingness. Unreadable. Again.
For a long moment Jaeger feared that the gesture had been rejected. But then Gwaihutiga reached out, gathered both Jaeger’s hands and cupped them within his.
‘Epenhan, koty’ar,’ Gwaihutiga announced. ‘Epenhan.’
‘It means welcome,’ Puruwehua explained. ‘Welcome to the friend who is always at our side.’
Jaeger felt emotion well up in his stomach. Moments like this, he knew, were rare. He was face to face with the warrior leader of a largely uncontacted people – one who had risked his life to save a complete stranger and an outsider. He grabbed Gwaihutiga in a momentary embrace, then pulled away.
‘So, tell me, guys, any idea how we get down from here?’ Jaeger asked, not knowing quite what else to say. ‘Now the rope bridge has been blown in two.’
‘This is what we have been discussing,’ Puruwehua volunteered. ‘We have no way to cross the river, and from there to take the route down. The only alternative is the path you originally planned to use. But it is a three-day detour, maybe more. We will reach the target long after those we are trying to beat—’
‘Then there’s no time to waste,’ Alonzo cut in. ‘Man, we’ll run the entire way if we have to. Let’s get goin’.’
Jaeger held up a hand for silence. ‘One second. Just the one.’
He glanced around the faces ranged before him, a wild smile playing across his features. It had been a given in special forces that they’d always endeavour to do the unorthodox and the unexpected, to outfox the enemy. Well Jaeger was about to do the unexpected big time – right here and now.
‘We’ve got the parachutes back at the cache, right?’ he declared. ‘Eight of them – double that number if we separate out the reserve chutes.’ A beat. ‘Anyone here ever done a base jump?’
‘Done a few,’ Joe James volunteered. ‘Almost as wild as taking a hit on an Amahuaca snuff pipe.’
‘I too have base-jumped,’ Leticia Santos confirmed. ‘It is good, but never as exciting as dancing at carnivale. Why?’
‘Base-jumping is basically the shortened version of HAHO-ing from 30,000 feet – only you’re jumping off a cliff face or a tower block, as opposed to a C-130’s open ramp, and you’ve got a fraction of the distance in which to pull your chute.’
The raw excitement was burning in Jaeger’s eyes now. ‘That’s what we’re going to do: we’re going to grab our chutes from the cache and jump the Devil’s Falls.’
It took a few moments for his words to sink in. It was Hiro Kamishi who raised the first – wholly sensible – objection.
‘What about the Amahuaca? Puruwehua, Gwaihutiga and their warrior brothers? It would not be . . . wise to leave them behind.’
‘We’re seven – so that leaves nine spare chutes. Plus we can tandem a good number of ’em down.’ Jaeger glanced at Puruwehua. ‘You ever wanted to fly? Like that eagle you told me about – the topena, wasn’t it? The white hawk that can steal a chicken from the village?’
‘The topena,’ Puruwehua confirmed. ‘I have flown as high as the topena, when taking nyakwana snuff. I have flown over wide oceans and to distant mountains – but these are the mountains of my mind.’
‘I’m sure you have,’ Jaeger enthused. ‘But today, right now, you’re going to learn to fly for real.’
Puruwehua’s gaze remained expressionless, devoid of even the slightest hint of fear. ‘If it is the only way down and the quickest, we will jump.’
‘We can get seven of you down for certain, maybe more if some fly solo,’ Jaeger explained. ‘And at least this way we can be first to that wreck.’
‘We will jump,’ Puruwehua announced simply. ‘Those who cannot will descend via the long route – the path – and from there they will chase after and harass this Dark Force. In this way, we hit them from two sides.’
Gwaihutiga volunteered a few words, punctuated by the brandishing of a weapon. ‘My elder brother says that after today, we will follow you anywhere, even over the falls,’ Puruwehua translated. ‘And he used a new name for you: Kahuhara’ga. It means “the hunter”.’
Jaeger shook his head. ‘Thanks, but here in the jungle it’s you guys who are the true hunters.’
‘No – I think Gwaihutiga is right,’ Narov cut in. ‘After all, Jaeger means “hunter” in German too. And today, here in the jungle, you have been given that name for a second time, and by an Amahuaca warrior who could not know the meaning of the original. That has to signify something.’
Jaeger shrugged. ‘Fine. But right now I feel more like the hunted. Right now I’d rather avoid a fight with whoever we’re up against. That means getting to that air wreck first, and there’s only one way to do that.’ He glanced towards the falls. ‘Let’s get moving.’
‘There is perhaps one problem,’ Narov ventured. ‘The flying bit I am happy with, not so the landing. I have no desire to end up dangling from the canopy again, getting eaten alive by Phoneutria. Where do you intend that we land?’
In answer, Jaeger led the way to the very lip of the Devil’s Falls.
He glanced over, his arm jabbing downwards. ‘See that? That pool carved out of the jungle at the base of the falls? When we were planning the expedition, we considered that as an alternative touchdown point. We discounted it, for any number of reasons. But right now, we’ve got zero options: that’s where we’ll land.
‘One of the reasons we discounted it,’ he continued, ‘was we figured it would be full of caimans. Are there, Puruwehua? Caimans? In that pool at the base of the falls?’
Puruwehua shook his head. ‘No. No caimans.’
Jaeger eyed him. ‘There’s something else, though, isn’t there?’
‘There are piraihunuhua. How do you call it? A black fish that eats bigger fish. Sometime even large animals?’
‘Piranha?’
‘Piranha,’ Puruwehua confirmed. He laughed. ‘There are no caimans because of the piranhas.’
‘Man, I hate freakin’ fish,’ Alonzo growled. ‘Hate ’em. We’re gonna jump off a cliff, fly down a waterfall, land in a river and get munched alive by the world’s most deadly fish. A Jaeger classic.’
Jaeger’s eyes glowed. ‘Oh no we’re not. You follow me in close and land in the same patch of water that I do – we’re going to be just fine. All of us. Don’t linger. It still isn’t a great time to take a bath. But trust me, we can do this.’
He flashed a look at each of his team. The faces that stared back at him were streaked with sweat and grime, pockmarked from insect bites and furrowed deep with stress and exhaustion. His eyes came to rest upon their cameraman. The only one who wasn’t ex-military, Dale seemed to possess hidden reserves of strength, not to mention sheer guts and determination.
Incredibly, nothing yet seemed to have beaten him.
‘That spare camera,’ Jaeger announced. ‘Let’s double-check that the date, time and location function is disabled. When we do this, I want the camera rolling. I want you to film. And I want you to shoot everything you can from now on. I want a record of everything, just in case of the worst.’
Dale shrugged. ‘I take it you’re going first. I’ll set the camera running when you jump the Devil’s Falls.’
60
Jaeger stood on the very edge.
Behind him, his team was bunched up close. To his left and below, a massive volume of water seethed over the lip of the falls, and beneath his feet the rock was slippery. Glancing across the wall of falling water, it seemed as if the very earth were moving.
As he turned to face the emptiness, there was only a whirling mass of mist and swirling water vapour, along with a powerful upwelling of warm tropical air.
Plus, there was Puruwehua, lashed tight to Jaeger in the tandem.
Every one of Jaeger’s team bar one was leaping tandem, with an Amahuaca warrior strapped to his or her person.
Joe James – one of the strongest of the lot of them, and the most experienced base-jumper – would also be making the short flight with the extra weight of a folded-up kayak roped to him. Narov had had a novel idea of how they could make use of that canoe, once they’d jumped the Devil’s Falls.
Because he was filming it all, Dale would be the last over. Being non-military, he was their least experienced parachutist, and he had a challenging enough task as it was filming all the jumps. To try to make it a little easier on him, Jaeger had suggested that he alone should jump solo.
Jaeger leaned further into the void, nudging Puruwehua forward. A final pause, a deep breath and then he shifted them past the point of no return, and together they took the plunge.
As he had anticipated, there was no need to leap a great distance from the pinnacle of rock on which they were standing. The overhang was significant and Jaeger had kept them stable as they dived. But even so, it was to Puruwehua’s credit that he didn’t panic and flounder, which might have sent them into a spin. It was his calm warrior mentality coming to the fore.
As they accelerated, the upwelling of warm, wet air caught them, and propelled them away from the cliff face into the swirling mass of opaque whiteness.
Two thousand, three thousand . . . Jaeger counted inside his head. ‘And PULL!’
He’d packed the BT80 himself, which was hardly ideal, and for a moment he feared the chute had failed to deploy, in which case he and Puruwehua were going to end up very wet and very dead, very fast. But then he felt the familiar billowing jerk as a vast expanse of silk caught the air above them, the individual panels of the parachute dragging at the hot, steamy atmosphere.
The thunder of the tumbling water was thick in his ears as Jaeger felt himself and Puruwehua dragged upwards by the shoulders, until they were left floating in the sticky, damp whiteness five hundred feet below the lip of the falls.
For the briefest of moments, Jaeger found himself staring into a wall of rainbow colours, the plume of spray from the falling water caught in the intense sunlight. And then the moment was past, and he was turning away from the falls towards the open jungle.
He steered right with the toggles, bringing the chute into a series of gentle loops, but taking special care to avoid the thick spray from the mass of white water cascading through the air beside them.
If he blundered into that, it would collapse their chute, and he and Puruwehua would be finished.
He corkscrewed towards the pool below. Piranhas. There wasn’t much that scared Will Jaeger, but getting chomped to death by scores of jet-black gnarly fish jaws was
one of them. Relative to its size, the piranha had a bite more powerful than a Tyrannosaurus rex, and three times that of a caiman.
For an instant he checked the sky above. He counted four chutes already in the air, and a fifth pair of figures tumbling off the rock face. His team was coming in good and tight, which was just as he wanted it.
He glanced down.
The water was maybe four hundred feet below and coming up fast.
He unzipped his chest pouch, and his fingers curled around the cold steel of the grenade.
During the three lost years he’d spent on Bioko, Jaeger had learned to perfect the little-appreciated skill of killing time. One way he’d found to do so was by researching the fate of the Duchessa – that mystery Second World War cargo ship that Britain had seemingly risked all to capture.
Another way had been to try his hand at fishing.
Invariably, he’d done so in the company of the Fernao village boatmen – only they hadn’t used traditional nets or lines very often. The villagers’ favoured means of catching fish was by using dynamite. It was bad for wildlife and for conservation, but undeniably effective in terms of netting their catch – or rather, blowing them out of the water.
Jaeger removed the grenade from the pouch and ripped the retaining clip out with his teeth whilst holding the release lever flush with the metal casing. He had Colonel Evandro to thank for the few grenades he was carrying, though he’d never once envisaged using one in the way that he was intending to right now.
When he judged the timing and distance was just right, he let the grenade fall, the clip springing free.
It was now armed and plummeting towards the base of the waterfall. It would explode in six seconds, by which time Jaeger reckoned it would be six feet or more under the water.
He saw the grenade hit, the ripples from the impact pulsing out across the pool. A second or two later it exploded, throwing up a plume of white water before the eruption crashed back to the boiling surface below.
