No Room for Error: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Seven

by Julie Moffett

  Basia cupped her hands and shouted. “It’s the Chinese, but I don’t think they want to invite us over for twice-cooked duck.”

  The men began running along the side of the river, but as we had found, there wasn’t a clear path. We quickly lost sight of them. I sighed in relief and then nearly fell out of the canoe when Basia shrieked.

  “What’s wrong?” I shouted.

  “Rapids ahead,” Finn answered for her. He kept his pole moving back and forth on each side of the canoe. Their boat seemed to be rocking violently. “Better hold on, lassies, it’s getting rough.”

  Our canoe started to vibrate from underneath as the water picked up speed. I looked back at Sari. Her faced was drawn tight in concentration. She was watching the patterns in the water as if it would magically tell her something. Maybe it would.

  I used the pole, pushing off against an occasional rock as it came close, but I wasn’t sure if I were helping or hurting the situation. Our canoe tipped perilously as the water became increasingly choppy. I reminded myself to concentrate on the moment. I had just survived a plane crash and a helicopter falling on me. I would survive this...I hoped. Perspiration beaded on my temples.

  The water churned and boiled with a furious white foam. Basia’s and Finn’s canoe tossed in the water like a toy boat in front of us. I marveled at how well Finn was doing guiding the canoe. I’d known he liked to race boats in Ireland, but I suspected this was an entirely different sport. Still, he was a man of many talents.

  The water sucked at my pole. I almost lost it and decided that I wasn’t contributing and would do better just holding on. So, I slid my pole to the bottom of the boat and grabbed the sides in the death grip I normally reserve for when someone asks to borrow my laptop.

  The canoe lurched sideways and I almost fell out. I swallowed a scream and gripped the sides of the canoe so tightly my fingers ached. The roar of water filled my ears.

  I dared a frightened glance at Sari, but her concentration on the water was singular. Water sprayed in my face and mouth. I thought of my parents, my two brothers, Elvis, Xavier, the briefcase in the black bag slung over my body and Slash.

  Mostly Slash. Funny how a near-death experience brought all my priorities suddenly into focus. And wasn’t it interesting that he topped the list, even above the thought that I might not ever see my laptop again?

  Sari gave a small cry and I snapped to attention. Basia and Finn’s canoe was in real trouble.

  “Look out,” I yelled. Their canoe hit a rock and capsized, flinging both of them over the side and into the water.

  “Finn! Basia!”

  I didn’t see where Finn went, but I saw Basia disappear under the water.

  I searched the water frantically for them before our canoe hit something as well. I was thrown from the boat in a horrid, teeth-jarring motion.

  I managed to yell once before my head slipped under the water.

  Chapter Forty-One

  I flailed around in the water, blinded by terror. Water sucked at me, dragging me down as I tried to calm the screaming in my head and focus on one thing.

  Air.

  My lungs were burning. I kicked my legs hard, but I couldn’t tell if I was moving up or down. Blackness crowded my vision. My cheeks ached from holding my breath.

  If I didn’t get air I was going to die.

  I gave one more hard kick and my foot hit the bottom. Pushing up with all my strength, I shot to the surface. Gulping a lifesaving breath, I slid past a slippery rock and over another small drop before sinking back under again. I kicked again to get back up, missing the bottom on my first few tries. Somehow I managed to surface again and catch a breath, but the adrenaline rush was ebbing. It wasn’t going to be long before I slipped under for good.

  Suddenly a strong arm grabbed me under my armpits, pulling me toward safety. I gasped, trying to see through the spray of the water, but swallowed a mouthful instead.

  I blinked and saw Sari.

  She was pulling me to shore. I kicked my feet to try and help her but she shouted something at me. I didn’t understand it, but figured she wanted me to stay still. I let her pull me, until I could feel the water calming around us. A few minutes later Sari stood me up. The water reached to my chest, but I could stand. I waded the rest of the way to land with Sari pulling me. I dragged myself onto the shore, coughing and spitting out water.

  “Thank you,” I panted, my voice sounding scratchy and hoarse. “Thank you, Sari.” I made a V with my hands and then turned my head to the side and vomited water until I had nothing left in my stomach.

  My ponytail stuck to my cheeks and my clothes clung to me. My tennis shoes squished with water as I moved. I marveled that the canvas bag had somehow miraculously stayed connected to my body. I pulled it over my head and then lay down, resting my head on it and trying to catch my breath. When I could breathe, I looked up at Sari, tears filling my eyes.

  “Basia? Finn?”

  She didn’t answer and stood with her hand on her forehead, shading her eyes and surveying the water. Her hair had unraveled from her braid and stuck to her back. The beautiful feather necklace was badly damaged, but still hung around her neck. I could tell by the way she was intently scanning the water that she hadn’t found anything...or anyone.

  I staggered to my feet to help her look when I suddenly spotted something dark lying on the shore.

  “Basia!” I shouted, my voice barely audible. I pointed until Sari saw.

  “Basia!” I yelled again, but there was no movement.

  I scanned the shore anxiously for Finn, but didn’t see him anywhere.

  Sari cupped her hands around her mouth and howled. The sound carried across the water and Basia sat up, turned around and finally spotted us.

  She stood, lifting her arms and waving them back and forth. I jumped up and down, waving my arms like a maniac. She checked her surroundings and then turned back at us. Like me, she was looking for Finn.

  My stomach twisted. I still didn’t see him. Logic told me the odds of him surviving were not good, but I couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t believe it.

  I touched Sari’s arm. “Finn?”

  Sari looked up and down the shore and then shook her head sadly.

  My eyes filled with tears. “No.” My voice was little more than a whisper. “No.”

  Sari stiffened. I straightened, thinking she’d found Finn. Instead she pointed at Basia and my heart stopped.

  A native man crept up behind her. Before I could scream a warning, he grabbed Basia and disappeared into the jungle.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  “Basia!”

  I cupped my hands and shouted over and over again until my voice was hoarse. Finally Sari closed her eyes and turned away from the water.

  Panicked, I grabbed her arm. “Sari, we have to save Basia. How can we get across the river?”

  But Sari wasn’t listening to me. She seemed deep in thought.

  “Sari!” My voice was sharp and panicked. “Basia. Please. Help me.”

  She turned to look at me, her brown eyes sympathetic. “Ba-sha.”

  Tears spilled down my cheeks. “Help me, please. I don’t understand.”

  She touched my arm, motioned for me to come. Realizing there was nothing else I could do, I picked up my bag, slipped it across my body and followed her.

  * * *

  We were moving away from where we’d last seen Basia. Finn was gone. My wet clothes weren’t drying and my tennis shoes squished with every sluggish step I took. Since the water had rinsed off my mud protection, mosquitoes and insects began to bite me. I couldn’t even summon the energy to swat at them. I didn’t know where Sari was taking me and I wasn’t sure I even cared.

  As we walked it started to rain. It fit my mood.

 
In my misery I lost track of where we were going or how long I had been following her. We were walking along a barely formed trail when Sari stopped abruptly in front of a curtain of vines, then reached down and pulled them aside. I saw a small opening.

  She motioned for me to enter, so I bent down and scooted into a snug cave. There was no way I could stand, so I took off the bag, threw it in the cave and then crawled in on my hands and knees. There was a small pallet and some jars, as well as several piles of dried leaves. Sari crawled in behind me, having secured the vines to the side of the cave so we could have light inside.

  She sat on a pallet and unfastened her belt, laying her pouches out to dry. Pointing at my feet, she motioned for me to take off my shoes and socks. I shook my head, but she insisted, so I pulled off my shoes and peeled off my filthy socks. My feet were swollen and blistered. Sari crawled to a corner of the cave and came back with a soft cloth made of animal skin. She handed it to me and I wiped my hands and face. She motioned to my feet, so I wiped those dry, too. She picked up my tennis shoes and thoroughly examined them, pulling on the laces and bending the soles.

  My hand brushed my bag and I stared at it numbly. Inside it were the details of perhaps one of the most significant technological invention of our time. Yet, at this moment, it was completely meaningless.

  I must have looked as miserable as I felt, because Sari put a hand on my shoulder. “Wexi?”

  I was shaking and there were tears in my eyes. She didn’t need a translation to know why I was hurting.

  She pressed a hand to her breast. “Sari.” She pressed her hand to my chest. “Wexi.”

  She was telling me I wasn’t alone. I tried to pull myself together by swiping at my eyes. Instead, I smeared mud against my cheeks.

  She leaned over and took something that had been hanging against the wall. I leaned closer and saw it was a necklace with a pendant carved in the shape of a crescent moon, almost identical to her birthmark. She slipped it over her neck.

  “Tooh,” she whispered.

  I blinked and pointed at the necklace and then at her. “Did Tooh give that to you?”

  She nodded and said something I didn’t understand, then she slipped out of the cave, leaving me alone.

  I had no idea where Sari went or whether she’d come back. I hugged my knees to my chest and tried to stop shaking. I leaned back against the side of the cave and closed my eyes. I bolted awake when I heard Sari returning. I must have dozed off, so I wasn’t sure how long she’d been gone.

  She returned with a basketful of items and a small tube about three inches in diameter and about a foot long strapped to her thigh. The tube had a much narrower and longer tube secured to it by several straps. It looked like a giant straw. From the basket she removed several red fruits shaped kind of like an oversized mango. She banged one against a rock and split it open, offering me half. The inside was white with tiny black seeds. Sari took a bite of her half and urged me to do the same.

  I sampled it. It tasted a bit like kiwi, but not as sweet. The juice was welcome and I realized I was thirsty. I devoured it and then eyed the next fruit. Sari split that one open, too, and we each ate another half. I felt oddly satiated. My stomach had either shrunk from deprivation or decided that it was going on vacation until this nightmare was over and I started eating properly again.

  After that she opened a small clay jar that had a carved wooden top. She scooped out a glob of a gooey substance, rubbed her hands together and smeared the sap on my face and neck. It was sticky and smelled like an herb garden. She put the sap over every inch of my uncovered skin, including my eyelids and scalp. I had to resist the urge to scratch it off, but after a few minutes, my skin seemed to adapt to it. Then, she did the same to herself.

  It took me a minute to figure out what she’d done. I sniffed at it. “Homemade bug spray. That’s why you never seemed to be bothered by mosquitoes.”

  Curious, I pointed at the tube on her hip and looked at her quizzically. Sari grinned and said a word.

  “What? Did you just say necktie?” I tried to copy her pronunciation.

  She repeated it slowly and this time it sounded like muktai.

  “Muktai?”

  She nodded, then took a long tube from her supplies and strapped it to her hip. Carefully she opened the top of the bigger tube and carefully pulled out a pointed dart. The dart did not have any feathers, but it had hard, raised ridges. I understood at once what the purpose of the tube and dart was, but Sari pantomimed using it to make sure I understood. When she pretended to get hit by the dart, she clapped her hand to the imaginary dart, took several staggering steps and then collapsed.

  I dipped my head to show her I understood. “Excellent. A great weapon.”

  Then she smiled like she knew something I didn’t. Picking up a stick, she drew a female figure and said, “Ba-sha.”

  Holy cow. Had she found Basia? “Sari, do you know where Basia is?”

  She started carefully drawing a much more detailed image. I moved next to her to get a clearer look. She’d drawn a number of huts in what looked like a village. Except two of the huts were farther away from the others.

  She pointed at the isolated huts, frowned and said, “Moro.”

  “Moro?” I looked at her puzzled.

  She tapped more emphatically on the second hut. “Moro. Ba-sha.”

  I got it. “Wait. Moro is a guy? This Moro thug has Basia in that hut?”

  She drew four more men and what looked like a giant bird. Then she tapped the other hut.

  I studied her drawing until I figured it out. “That’s not a bird. It’s a helicopter. So, what I think you’re saying is that some of the men in the first hut are Chinese from the helicopter and Basia is a prisoner in the other one.”

  She couldn’t confirm, obviously, but I think we had an understanding. I wanted to ask her about guards, but realized that was more complex than our limited communication skills would support. While I was pondering what other questions I might ask and have a shot at getting answered, she started drawing again.

  Sari sketched two more stick figures—a tall male with some kind of headdress and another male. She pointed at the male with the headdress and said, “Tisa.”

  I studied it. “I’m guessing Tisa is a village chief or elder.”

  The stick landed on the next male. “Tooh.”

  I looked at Sari in surprise. “Wait.” I pointed at her necklace. “That Tooh?”

  She nodded and looked at me expectantly.

  My brain raced and I talked aloud to myself to help me sort it out. “So, Tooh and Tisa live in the same hut? Okay, I’m guessing Tooh is the son of the chief. That does complicate things. Sari is an outcast because of her birthmark. But Tooh loves Sari and she loves him except apparently they can’t have each other. Oh, jeez. It’s like a Pacific version of Romeo and Juliet.”

  Sari drew a female child holding hands with Tisa and Tooh. “Kala.”

  I frowned. “Kala is Tooh’s child or maybe a younger sister?”

  Sari dragged the stick from Kala to the second hut where she had drawn Basia. “Basia. Kala.”

  I stared at the drawing to make sure I understood. “Whoa. Are you saying Moro and the Chinese are holding Kala prisoner too? But why? Unless...” It took me a minute to get there. “Unless Moro and his buddies took Kala to ensure the cooperation of the village. What better way than holding hostage the daughter or granddaughter of the chief?”

  Sari pressed her hand to her breast and then pointed at the prisoner hut. “Sari. Tooh.”

  I knew what she was getting at. “Oh, no.” I shook my head vigorously. “It’s going to be Lexi, Sari and Tooh. I’m in on this rescue, too. We’ll get both Basia and Kala free.”

  Energized, I grabbed my bag and dumped the contents on the ground. “Let’s see what I have to
contribute.”

  My meager supplies consisted of the titanium briefcase, an empty water bottle, Basia’s shoes, a roll of duct tape and her garbage bag backpack that I’d grabbed before we got into the canoes. I ripped open the garbage bag and Basia’s purse fell out unscathed from the water.

  I emptied the contents of her purse. Water, hand sanitizer, lipstick, compact, mascara, a cell phone, which was still turned off, a charger, two tampons, a wallet with three hundred dollars, a comb, keys and breath mints.

  Sari watched me with interest, but did not interfere. After I was done, I sat back on my heels, looking and thinking.

  How was I going to mount a rescue with this?

  Logically. Creatively. It’s what I did best.

  I picked up Basia’s cell phone and turned it on. After what seemed like a minute of holding my breath, it came on.

  I pumped my fist in the air. “Yes.”

  Then, I had an awful thought. What if Basia had password protected her phone? I had been nagging her for months to take that simple security precaution. If she did, I had to hope she would use her birthday, the way she did for her email.

  Sari gasped as she saw the phone light up and Basia’s home page displayed. I was never so glad that she hadn’t got around to taking my advice. But once we got home, she and I were going to have a serious security discussion. Again.

  The phone’s soft white glow entranced Sari and she nearly sat on me as she put her nose up to the screen, trying to figure it out.

  I laughed. “Just a minute, Sari. Let me check something.”

  No surprise that there weren’t any bars, but I flipped through the apps trying to see what I might be able to use. I sorted through Basia’s music selection. Smiling, I pushed the play button and the sound of Michael Jackson singing about being bad came from the speaker. Sari was so startled by the sound that she yelped and fell backwards, scooting away.

  I turned it off and motioned to her. “It’s okay. Sari. It’s safe. It’s just Michael Jackson. He’s not that scary. Come back over here.”