RACE AMAZON: Maelstrom (James Pace novels Book 2)

by Andy Lucas

  Turning, he caught a glimpse of a familiar face and his heart jumped. Sarah was next to him, sprawled in the mud, drenched and shaking. Her eyes were glazed and fixed blindly down at her muddy legs. She made no attempt to look at him. He called her name several times. He knew the words were coming out even though he couldn’t hear a thing above the din of a thousand church bells. She stirred a fraction when he shouted at her but it was barely a flicker of recognition. Still her stare remained fixed. Reaching out, Pace pinched the skin on her calf, hard. ‘Sarah! Snap out of it!’

  A huge explosion rocked the jungle about a quarter of a mile away, sending a thunder-flash whipping through the trees and a pillar of choking smoke stabbing upwards like an invisible finger, jabbing accusingly at the invisible jets. Led to believe they were attacking a rebel compound, the aircraft pressed home their attack mercilessly. Pace felt a succession of pressure blasts ruffle his ears and saw even the mighty tree trunks shiver in their crushing grip.

  Baker was suddenly at his side again, his lips moving slowly as he formed a question. He knew the man could hear nothing, same as him.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  Pace nodded. Explosions still came thick and fast, brightening the night with flashes that silhouetted gnarled tree limbs, turning them into evil, grasping demons. The soldiers all around were fast disappearing as they headed in single file from the clearing.

  Baker made sure everyone was accounted for, except for the eight dead men he knew would be going nowhere before pulling Sarah roughly to her feet and urging them both to hurry after him.

  They followed him without question. Pace didn’t see Bailey or Poranchez and hoped they were somewhere up ahead. He wasn’t frightened. It was just a continuation of a nightmare, briefly reprieved. Plunging through the deep darkness of a jungle night, running for his life, was all too familiar.

  For perhaps the first hundred yards or so, which meant travelling more like five hundred yards as they skirted tree trunks, tangled creepers and boggy patches underfoot, Pace concentrated on his footing while adjusting his eyes to the darkness. His hearing improved until there was just the faintest of background buzzing and his thought processes returned.

  The whole time, he steered a dazed Sarah firmly around the obstacles, leading her by the elbow. Her cheeks were filthy and stained with tears, though he couldn’t see it in the darkness. She allowed herself to be led, as if locked in a hypnotic trance.

  The soldiers had all donned night vision goggles, including Baker, but Pace had left his own pair back in their tent. His night vision was good enough to avoid any major accident as they hurried along in near pitch darkness but he still stumbled more times than he cared to count, nearly taking Sarah down with him on two occasions, though she hardly seemed to notice.

  After an hour, Pace moved to call out to Baker, represented by a shadowy hulk up in front of them. Before he could do so, Baker stopped suddenly and allowed them both to catch up to him.

  The rain fell steadily, the distant pattering and splattering an old friend to Pace now. Under the trees, as usual, it fell in patches; lighter here, heavier there. Water trickled down the ancient tree trunks and cobweb of hanging vines, adding to the eerie, isolated feeling of their forest flight.

  ‘You two all right?’ Baker asked, holding out two sets of night goggles to them. They took them without question and slipped them on.

  ‘We’re okay,’ Pace replied. To his left, Sarah nodded dazed agreement. She seemed to spark back to life as her vision returned. Pace was used to the technical enhancement but she found the transformation nothing short of miraculous. Trees and plants ceased to blur into single shadows, becoming clear and sharply defined before her.

  ‘So near and yet so bloody far,’ Pace commented wryly. Sarah marvelled at how calm he was. Perhaps with him by my side, I might just cope with the jungle and the fear, she thought.

  ‘These guys are sharper than I gave them credit for,’ admitted Baker, ‘and I didn’t think they were amateurs.’

  ‘Cathera’s mercenaries?’ wondered Pace. ‘I thought we were just nailed by the airforce.’

  ‘Someone fed them our location as a legitimate target. My guess is Cathera’s men. Either they’ve spotted us covertly, or they have some inside information. From where, I have no idea.’

  They were a short flight away from civilisation, so close that Sarah could almost taste it. Now the rescue operation was in need of rescuing and they were on the run for their lives with no means of escape. The Osprey lay in a million smouldering pieces somewhere far behind them.

  ‘So, somewhere out there,’ Pace said to Baker, ‘are mercenaries still hunting for us? They haven’t packed up and gone home?’

  ‘Not yet. And my guess is that they aren’t far away either,’ explained Baker.

  ‘I agree, but we are more than a match in any fight that might come our way,’ he answered. ‘My men are the best around. I have soldiers on point and on deep reconnaissance. Some have dropped back to act as a rearguard and we are flanked by two pairs.’ His voice took on a flinty edge. ‘They can give as good as anybody cares to give them, be sure of that.’

  ‘You can count on my help when things get bad,’ said Pace, tapping the Sten still slung over his shoulder.

  Baker looked dubious. ‘Those things had a bad reputation for jamming in the war. I wouldn’t put too much faith in it if I were you.’

  ‘It hasn’t let me down yet.’

  ‘If it comes to it, do what you can,’ sighed Baker with a mischievous grin. ‘Just don’t shoot me, or yourself come to that.’

  ‘Don’t underestimate me.’

  ‘Believe me, I don’t.’ Baker meant it.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Pace caught Sarah looking at him. He gave her a grin as they started to move again, this time with the Sten held lightly in his hands. The thought of a pressing, closing enemy drew his thumb to the safety catch, which he flicked off as he walked.

  Pace checked his watch several times during the slog through increasingly sodden and muddy ground. Time seemed to drag as he and Sarah struggled against the terrain and the fast pace set by the soldiers. It occurred to him, after about twenty minutes, that he didn’t have a clue where they were actually heading. With the rain staying heavy, the ground soon ran with surface water in places and their speed dropped as they navigated pools, fast flowing streams and slippery, exposed rock beds.

  Pace was aware of it becoming cooler around him, although the exercise kept him in a familiar state of constant sweat. He was helping Sarah up after she’d just stumbled over a hidden root when Baker suddenly spun around and literally pushed them flat, into an inch-deep ooze of reddish mud. They didn’t need a diagram to know that trouble had found them.

  ‘James, I’m scared.’ Sarah’s voice trembled softly and her face was so close to his that he felt the warmth of her breath against his cheek. Even beneath the thin veil of streaked mud, now noticeable with the goggles, she was beautiful.

  ‘We’ll be fine,’ Pace promised, finding and squeezing her hand in the mud. He’d had many days to get used to the claustrophobic grip of the forest at night and to the terror of imminent death but it was a new experience for her.

  ‘When we’re lying dead in the rain, you’re in big trouble,’ Sarah griped humourlessly.

  ‘Very poetic,’ Pace whispered. ‘At least you’ll be in good company. You get the privilege of sharing my final resting place. I don’t offer that to just any girl.’

  ‘What an honour. Just don’t hog the whole grave,’ she shot back, actually managing a more genuine smile as she felt the last vestiges of terror leave her body.

  ‘I’m going to move up ahead,’ cut in Baker swiftly. ‘Wait for my signal before you come up and join me. Until you see me wave, stay put.’ He turned to go before shooting a glance back at Pace, over his shoulder. ‘And keep that relic of yours handy.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it.’

  Baker slid forward on his belly about twenty feet, where
he stopped, staring intently ahead. Next to him, Sarah shivered. She was freezing cold, still dressed only in thin shorts, crop top and a pair of tan walking boots. One of the soldiers had taken a moment to drape a thin plastic poncho over her shoulders at some point, but she was soaked to the skin.

  When the wave finally came, Sarah was up in a flash and moving off ahead of him. Ten feet further on, she nearly fell over the bodies.

  17

  It was the last thing either of them expected. Somehow Pace just assumed the hiding and silence meant trouble had passed them by, or been a false alarm. By the look of the half a dozen corpses that lay in the mud at their feet, the silence had been just a testament to how good the men with them actually were. Eyes stared sightlessly skyward, or down into the mud; eyes that had been alive and watchful only minutes before.

  At least two had been slit across the throat with an assassin’s knife stroke. One had his head turned at nearly one hundred and eighty degrees, with the skin on the neck being creased and bruised. The others had been shot in the head at close range with silenced handguns, the powder burns around the solitary entry wounds evidence as to just how close the discharges had been.

  What was strange was that the three of them were still alone. The enemy had been dealt with and Baker’s men had simply moved on again.

  Only a few rustled, agitated creepers up ahead gave away the path the soldiers had taken. Pace checked the Sten while Sarah sank down on a large buttress root of a nearby tree.

  ‘The threat has passed for now,’ explained Baker, pulling a water bottle from his belt and passing it round. ‘This was a probe. My men had to remove these guys quickly and quietly. The enemy will be blind for a while.’

  ‘Others will come,’ sighed Sarah forlornly. ‘And then what? Are you going to kill them all?’

  ‘If we have to, yes,’ he replied brutally, ‘but I hope it doesn’t come to that. That’s not what I want.’

  ‘You’re not the only one,’ Pace agreed. ‘Where the hell are we anyway? I’m assuming you know the best route out of here and are following an agreed emergency plan, right? Please tell me we’re not all just blundering about in the dark until we bump into more of the same.’

  ‘You were the rescue team, so who rescues you?’ echoed Sarah.

  ‘We have two choices,’ answered Baker evenly.

  ‘Which are?’ asked Pace

  ‘We can head back to the river and wait for a rescue boat to be sent in for us by McEntire. If the hostiles have cleared out, we will be safe enough.’

  ‘And if they’re still here?’ Sarah’s question was simply met with a knowing stare from Baker.

  ‘Our other choice lies about ten miles west of here. It’s an automated research station, funded by the McEntire Corporation. We’re lucky it’s so close. If we push hard we could reach it by nightfall. Once there, we can set up camp and wait for rescue.’

  The choice wasn’t really a choice at all. A quick consensus opted for the base. At least it could be defended while they waited for help to arrive. Sitting back on a riverbank would leave them too exposed.

  ‘Let’s go then,’ Baker decided. ‘The sooner we get there, the sooner we can be evacuated.’

  ‘Lead the way then,’ shrugged Sarah quietly. ‘I’m all for getting out of here.’

  Baker gave the leading soldier new directions and they set off again. Pace settled back into the familiar routine of hot, stifling trudging, making sure he walked behind Sarah and gave her an encouraging touch every few minutes.

  Everyone slogged onwards over mud, exposed rocks, thick, slippery mosses and heavy leaf litter. Sarah, not as acclimatised to the heat and humidity as the others, struggled to keep up the pace but uttered no word of complaint. Several times, Pace saw her stumble and grimace from the pain of a twisted ankle, or grazed knee whenever he failed to catch her in time.

  The trek lasted five sultry, tough hours. They were moving through a very old section of the forest, with gigantic trees and an inner forest of lianas and ferns that made travelling in a straight line impossible. For every hundred feet they moved forwards, they must have walked closer to three.

  Baker kept a close eye on a hand-held computer that lived in a belt pouch when it wasn’t in his fist. It served many purposes but GPS was the crucial one for a group of travellers swallowed by a disorienting green blanket, devoid of distinct features or landmarks.

  When they finally arrived, darkness was falling and the permanent gloom beneath the canopy was lengthened and thickened by brooding, hungry shadows. The rain hadn’t let up since leaving the river and Pace was looking forward to cooler temperatures that the night would bring.

  Baker called a halt just as an almighty thunderstorm broke directly overhead. If they were expecting a neat ring of tents and a blackened, stone-ringed campfire they were sorely mistaken. The thick vegetation looked as virgin and uninviting as any they’d been slogging through in the past hours.

  ‘This is it,’ Baker sighed. He added something else but his words were drowned out by a violent thunderclap that shook the earth beneath their feet.

  ‘That machine of yours needs an overhaul,’ Pace cocked an eyebrow suspiciously. ‘Take a look around. I don’t see any sign of recent camping, let alone a research station.’

  ‘That’s,’ Baker said smugly, ‘because you’re looking in the wrong place.’ All around him, the group formed into a loose circle as the rain continued to lash at the high canopy.

  ‘Are you telling us that it’s hidden near here, somewhere?’ ventured Bailey. Despite his size and physical strength, his injury and the trials of the past few days had worn him down. He had no energy left for a drawn out search.

  ‘The research station was never...er...,’ he chose his words carefully, ‘…legitimately declared to the relevant authorities, shall we say.’

  ‘A secret base?’ said Sarah. ‘What were they researching?’

  ‘Anyway,’ said Baker, brushing off the question, ‘here, in the Amazon, you must think of the forest, or jungle, however you see it, as a high-rise city. Different animals live in different parts of the forest but they also live on different floors.’

  All eyes immediately turned upwards, hands raised to ward off intermittent raindrops that found their way through the canopy.

  ‘More tree climbing, wonderful,’ Pace groaned.

  ‘That’s the spirit. Now somewhere around here, probably on one of the older trees, there will be the bottom of a ladder. Spread out and look. We must find it before it gets too dark.’

  ‘And that gives us only minutes, so let’s get this thing found,’ added Pace. His own experiences trekking through the jungle had taught him it was a mere heartbeat between dusk arriving and darkness falling like a solid mass. If they still had a climb ahead of them, they needed to use the failing light as much as possible.

  Luckily, Baker’s co-ordinates were spot on. Once they knew to look for something on a tree trunk, it didn’t take more than a couple of minutes to find. A shout from one of the soldiers signalled the end of the quick search. Moving about twenty feet to join an assembling group, Pace noted the ladder to be far more modern than he’d imagined. For whatever reason, possibly too many Tarzan films as a child, his mind had conjured an image of a single, worn and hairy old rope, hanging limply against a mighty trunk.

  To his surprise, the ladder was made of black-painted, highly polished steel, and resembled an American fire escape on a New York tenement building. The first length of ladder hung about six feet off the ground and stuck horizontally out from the trunk at ninety degrees, where it was hinged to the upper fixed section that was secured directly to the trunk.

  A jump, grab and pull by Baker fixed it, the horizontal section dropping silently down in his grip until it clicked vertically into place a couple of inches above the leaf-littered dirt. Ten feet from the ground, the ladder became encased in a tubular metal cage similar to the high ladders found on sky-scraping construction cranes or gigantic industrial chimne
ys.

  The tree itself was huge and disappeared into the canopy high above their heads, as did the newly discovered ladder.

  ‘Impressive,’ Sarah said.

  ‘I say we get up there and find out what’s waiting for us,’ said Bailey. ‘We don’t want to be messing around in the dark.’ He echoed Pace’s earlier thoughts perfectly.

  ‘Agreed,’ nodded Baker. ‘Let’s go.’

  Pace shunned his distaste for climbing and offered to go first. Sarah went up right behind him. There was little risk from enemy action in the canopy, so Baker’s men set up a perimeter and guarded the ladder as the civilians went up, one at a time. Baker came after them, followed by his men.

  Being encased in the cage lent a sense of security and they all felt strangely relaxed as they pressed on upwards like a column of thrill-seeking ants. At well over one hundred feet the ladder ended, twenty feet shy of the very top of the tree. A small steel platform had been constructed but it only held two standing. Pace and Sarah climbed onto it.

  ‘Where’s the base?’ He’d expected to stop much lower down and perhaps find some shelters or a tree-house.

  ‘The climb isn’t over yet,’ noted Sarah. She pointed to the rapidly thinning trunk that continued above their heads, where she’d spotted a single length of red nylon rope snaking up to the drenched, uppermost leaves.

  Pace relayed the situation down to Bailey, to stop the grumbling and increasingly vocal New Yorker hassling him from below. He, in turn, sent word back to Baker who sent a simple message back. Keep climbing.

  ‘Where to?’ Pace snapped to Bailey, who looked up at him from the top rung of the ladder with a shrug. How did he know? Wasn’t he stuck on the damned ladder too?

  ‘Just keep climbing,’ Baker’s disembodied shout drifted up for all to hear. ‘Trust me.’

  ‘Famous last words.’

  Before Pace could move, Sarah grabbed at the rope and used it to continue the climb. She quickly disappeared from view, becoming lost within the leaves. A wild period of shaking and trunk wavering was followed by a sudden stilled hush.