by John Moralee
“Stephen,” I said. “You’ve got to do it.”
I watched as Stephen grabbed her backpack and opened it.
My suspicions were confirmed. There was nothing in it.
“See?” she said. “I’m innocent. I think we should look in everyone else’s backpack, starting with yours, Peter.”
“Fine,” I said. “Look.”
Stephen searched my belongings. He found nothing.
There was only Tom’s remaining.
“Isn’t it time you admitted your theory’s wrong?” Tom said.
I shook my head. “You found him, Tom. That gave you the perfect opportunity to erase your own ski tracks.”
“You’re saying because I found him, I killed him? Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I have know one way to clear yourself. Empty your backpack.”
“Go to hell,” he said. “Nobody’s searching my pack.”
“There’s only you left now,” I said. “Prove yourself innocent. Give Stephen your backpack.”
“Forget it,” he said. “Nobody messes with my gear.”
“Let me show his theory is incorrect,” Stephen said.
“No,” Tom said.
“Afraid of us finding something?” I said.
He was looking at me when Allison snatched his backpack. He tried grabbing it off her, but she tossed it to Stephen. He caught it in his lap.
Tom glared at everyone. “You’re making a huge mistake.”
The answer was hidden among his personal things: a yellowish rock the size of a large brick, stained with blood.
I couldn’t understand why he’d keep the murder weapon, but then I saw Allison and Stephen recognising it.
“It’s an uncut diamond,” Allison said. “The biggest I’ve ever seen. It must be several thousand carats. Worth millions, but we’re not allowed to sell what we find. Everything belongs to our sponsors. Laurence would have handed it over. I guess you didn’t want that, Tom?”
Tom said nothing.
“What happened, Tom?” I said.
“Nothing happened. Someone else clearly hid that in my backpack. It was probably you or her. Stephen, did you know they were having an affair?”
“I hear rumours, but –”
“I’ve seen how they moon over each other,” Tom said. “They were definitely having one. I bet they planned framing me right from the beginning because I’m not a brain.”
I saw Stephen was having doubts.
“I admit I love Allison,” I said. “But we didn’t kill Laurence. I know why Laurence died. Tom, you found an unusual rock but didn’t know what it was – so you called Laurence, the expert. When you showed him the rock, he was stunned. He told you how valuable it was. He started to call his wife with the good news, but you didn’t want to lose millions. You hit him with it and arranged the accident, hoping it would make his head injury look natural.”
“That’s just a sick theory,” Tom said.
“Yes – but I believe you couldn’t resist touching the diamond with your bare hands. Your fingerprints and DNA will be all over it. You should have thrown it away so there was no evidence against you – but that rock was too important. You couldn’t throw it away. Unfortunately for you, the rock you killed for is all the evidence a jury will need to convict you of his murder.”
Tom stared at the rock, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry, Allison. I didn’t want to kill anyone.”
Standing up slowly, he pulled out his knife and moved towards the entrance. He began digging a hole, letting the icy air blast in.
“What are you doing?” I said.
“The right thing,” he said. “I am just going outside and I may be some time.”
“That’s suicide,” I said. “Don’t do it.”
Suddenly he was gone, into the dark heart of the blizzard, and I knew we’d never see him again.
As we closed the entrance to keep the igloo warm, I felt guilty for not stopping him.
Tom had not known that when I found Laurence he had not been quite dead.
Despite his horrible injuries, he could have been saved if I had treated him immediately. But I had let him pass away. If I had saved his life, there would have been the chance Allison would have not left him.
I loved her too much to risk that.
It was a secret I would let die with Tom, whose sacrifice I would remember forever.
The Package Deal
The robber was waiting for Donna and Lee a few miles up the trail where the dirt road narrowed and the rainforest encroached on the path. He stepped out from his hiding place brandishing a machete, which flashed in the hard sunlight, hurting Donna’s eyes, half-blinding her for several seconds.
The robber was a man in his twenties wearing a red kerchief over his nose and mouth, just like a bandit in a cowboy movie. He was not a tall man, but he looked dangerous. The machete seemed enormous in his hand. That hand was attached to a sinuously muscular arm and powerful upper torso gleaming with sweat. Lee was taller, she knew, but he could never have beaten the robber in a fight, fair or otherwise. She prayed he would not try as the man shouted at them in English, a fact that startled her almost as much as the machete.
“Don’t move! You are dead if you move! Nobody gets hurt if you do what I say.”
The robber had coarse black hair and dark brown skin weathered by the sun. His eyes were black, unblinking, devoid of humanity. Donna and Lee had no time to react before the man was robbing them of their backpacks and other possessions. He stole everything of value – even making sure they had nothing hidden in their boots and socks - then told them to lie down, eyes closed. Donna and Lee obeyed him, looking at each other one last time as they lay down on the ground. Red ants crawled over the dusty, cracked surface as her nose and forehead pressed against the hot grit. She could see the man’s dirty boots inches from her face. The man was standing over her. Donna was frightened she would never see Lee again. She closed her eyes and waited for the blow from the machete.
It never came. The robber was gone when she dared look. Lee was still alive, lying beside her, with his eyes still closed.
“Lee, he’s gone.”
They both stood up and stared up and down the trail. They said nothing. Lee looked at his wrist where his watch had been before remembering it had been stolen. He swore. The robber had taken their money, passports, emergency cell phone, spare clothes and camping equipment. The only things they had left were the clothes they were wearing and their hiking boots.
*
“What was I supposed to do?” Lee kept asking her, wanting, needing a good answer. It was a five hours later. They were still on the trail, a dozen miles from the nearest village. Their pleasant hike had turned into a long, unpleasant climb, the dry heat of the day beating down on them. Without water canteens they were dehydrated and exhausted. “Donna? Are you listening? What was I supposed to do?”
“Nothing,” she answered, again. “There was nothing you could have done. Stop blaming yourself, baby. It’s not your fault.”
“I should have fought back.” Lee clenched and unclenched his fists. “I should have given him a slamming right hook. Knocked him out.”
Lee had never punched anyone in his life. But, like most men, he thought he could be a great boxer if only he gave it a go. Meet the next Mike Tyson. The skinny white version. “I could have beaten him – if he hadn’t had that stupid knife.”
“I know that,” she assured him. Donna and Lee had met in Thailand when they were undergraduates heavily under the influence of Alex Garland’s novel The Beach. They were now in their late twenties with jobs in “The City”, but they still shared a love of travelling from the tourist maps into the real country, looking for the essential essence of exotic places. They had backpacked across Asia, India and Australia, but this was their first trip to South America. It was also they first time they had been the victims of serious crime.
“I could have knocked him right out –”
“Shush!”
“What?”
“I hear something.”
Lee stopped talking. Donna could hear a vehicle coming. It sounded about a mile away. “Someone’s coming. Let’s try to hitch a ride.”
“Hitch? What if it’s friends of the robber?”
“I don’t care. You can hide if you like.”
“What does that mean? You think I’m a coward?”
Donna did not answer. She was tired of the whole conversation. She was willing to risk more danger on the chance of rescue. She stood in the middle of the road until the vehicle appeared in the distance – a green truck with an engine that sounded as loud as a jet. Lee stayed off the road, but not hiding. Donna waved at the truck hoping the driver would see them and stop. The last thing she wanted was to be hit by a speeding truck. But the driver braked at the last possible second and the vehicle stopped in a dust cloud.
When the dust had settled, Donna could see the driver was a man aged around fifty. There were three small children on the passenger seat, their heads barely above the level of the dashboard, all looking through the fly-stained windscreen at Donna and Lee.
*
His name was Costas. He was a great bear of a man, his physical presence as impressive as the mountains in the distance. This country was his country. He belonged here in a way a tourist – an Englishwoman – could never belong. He spoke a little English – he had been taught it in school - which helped them explain what had happened, mixing English and guidebook Spanish. He was not surprised. “This is bandit country. I help you. Get in. Get in.”
Donna noticed an old but formidable hunting rifle in a rack above the dashboard. Costas saw her looking at it. He grinned. “No bandits ever stop me. I shoot them. Killed three.”
Costas’s matter-of-fact statement instantly made her feel safer, protected. She could not imagine Costas being afraid of anything.
The children were all beautiful dark-haired girls with dusky skin and white-white teeth as though bleached by smiling in the sun. Any father would have been proud to have such daughters. The children made room for them in the cramped interior, not afraid of sitting on their laps as the truck jerked forward, picking up speed, roaring through the rainforest like a charging elephant. The truck travelled to the nearest and only village for over twenty miles in any direction, San Dimas, where the white stone farmhouses looked as old as the rocky hills overlooking the dense rolling green waves of rainforest. Costas drove them to his home, telling them they were welcome to stay the night. He said he would help them in the morning. He said it would do no good contacting the local police for in bandit country there was nothing the police would do.
“They are – how you say? – blind to what goes on.”
“Do you have a phone?” Donna asked. “We need to contact the embassy about our passports.”
Costas laughed at the question. “There is a phone – in the next village.”
Costas introduced them to his wife Maria. The children had inherited their beauty from her. Maria almost dragged Donna into the kitchen, beckoning her to sit down, sit down, while she served her dinner and gave her a welcome drink of water. Costas led Lee somewhere. They both returned with bottles of wine.
The meal was wholesome and satisfying. They were treated like honoured guests. Such hospitality was unknown to Donna, making the loss of their possessions seem nearly worth it, though she did not mention her opinion to Lee because he was still angry about it.
Afterwards, the men went outside, to talk, while Maria showed Donna to their room, which was across the hall from the bathroom. Maria showed her the large iron tub filled with steaming water. “I ran you bath, Donna. You relax. Get clean. I wash your clothes. Give you something to wear for tonight.”
“You don’t have to –”
Maria ignored her. She started undressing Donna, forcing her to strip off her hiking clothes, which were, she had to admit, dirty and sweat-stained. Maria left the bathroom with her clothes. Donna had no choice about obeying the woman. She was naked in a stranger’s house. At least the bath looked inviting. Donna washed the dust off her body, relishing the feel of hot water and scented soap on her skin. When she returned to the bedroom wrapped in a towel, she found a simple cotton dress lying on the bed and some underwear. She slipped on the dress, then went down the stairs, looking for someone.
There was nobody in the kitchen. She heard Lee’s voice outside. Donna stepped into the tree-lined courtyard. Lee and Costas were watching the sun setting, sharing another bottle of wine – Costas filling Lee’s glass the instant it was empty. The sky was a brilliant orange over the mountains. “Costas owns a vineyard. He makes his own wines. They are delicious, Donna.”
After dark, Costas and Maria put their children to bed. Maria invited Donna into the living room, engaging her in a spirited conversation about London, a place that absolutely fascinated Maria, who had never been out of her country, though she had many English novels on her bookshelves. The men continued talking outside until Lee was inebriated. Costas brought him back inside with a huge arm around Lee’s waist, holding him up so he would not fall over.
“Your husband is tired,” he said diplomatically. “I think he should go to bed.”
Donna felt embarrassed when she saw Lee so drunk. She excused them from their hosts’ company, retiring to the bedroom. Lee was asleep in seconds, snoring loudly, but Donna was not tired, despite her day. She considered going back down the stairs, but decided Costas and Maria might have wanted to be by themselves. Instead, she lay down on the bed but could not rest. Lee’s snoring was too loud. And the air was too humid, too hard to breathe, so she got up and opened the window, releasing the heated air, replacing it with a cool breeze that smelled of the Pacific Ocean some hundreds of miles away. Hearing voices, she looked down into the courtyard.
In the moonlight she could see Costas crossing the courtyard, addressing someone standing by the trees. The stranger was in the darkness, just a shape barely discernible except when a movement caught her eye. Costas stopped at the trees, holding something out. She could not see what. The stranger approached him, also holding something in his hands. A bulky package. He gave Costas the package, then disappeared the way he had come, but not before Donna had recognised him as the man who had robbed them.
Donna could not breathe. Her heart kicked and struggled with its rhythm. Just then, Costas turned and looked up at her window. The bedroom was dark so she hoped he could not see her, though she felt his eyes upon her. She dared not move, for a movement would definitely give her away. After what seemed like hours, Costas looked away. Quickly, she ducked out of sight. She sighed. Her heart regained some level of normal beat. When she looked a second time, the courtyard was empty and it was almost as if she had imagined everything.
“Lee ... Lee ... Lee.”
She shook Lee harder and harder but could not him to wake up because he had drunk too much. She wanted to shout at him, scream at him, but feared being overheard. Lee had always been impossible to wake up when he drank too much. She decided to wake him in a few hours ... but somehow she fell asleep waiting.
When she woke up, it was the next morning. Harsh sunlight poured through the window. She turned to wake Lee but he was not in the bed.
Donna found him having breakfast with Costas and his family. There was no opportunity to warn him about their genial host. “Ah!” Costas said. “Here is your beautiful wife!”
“Good morning,” Donna said. She smiled as though nothing had happened. There was a chair empty between two of the children. She had to take it, but she wished she could have sat beside Lee, so she could whisper in his ear. Costas was smiling at her. She no longer felt safe around him. She thought of the rifle in his truck. She wondered if he really did not have a phone.
“Guess what?” Lee said.
“What?”
“It’s a miracle. Costas got our passports and other things back, including our money.” Lee put their passports on the ta
ble. She picked hers up, examining it. She did not understand.
“It was no miracle,” Costas said. “I did not want to – how do you say? - get your hopes up by making promises I could not keep.”
Costas had talked to some people who arranged a deal with the thief. Costas assured the thief they would not report the crime providing he gave back their valuables. “I said you were friends of mine. I am a well-respected man. He did not want me as his enemy. I gave him some of my best wine for the return of your things. It was a small price to pay.”
“Costas went to a lot of trouble,” Lee told her. “I’ve said we’ll pay him back when we get home.”
“Please!” Costas said. “I did this as a favour. You do not owe me anything.”
“We have to pay you back somehow,” Lee said. “How can we thank you properly? Is there something we could do?”
Costas looked at Maria, his eyes catching hers. She took the children into the next room. “There is something. But I can’t ask you do it.”
“Of course you can,” Lee insisted.
“I have something I’d like to sell, but my government will not let me. It is an antique vase that had been owned by my family for generations. In London, it would be worth a lot of money. Unfortunately, my government recently introduced a law banning the export of such items. They would take it from me if they even knew I possessed it. I have spoken to a collector interested in buying the vase. He will pay me if only I could deliver it to London where he lives. I can’t travel there myself - but you could. Take my vase with you. For this favour, I will be forever in your debt. The vase will pay for good schools for my children. I will get it. Then you decide if you can help me.”
When Costas had left the room, Donna quickly told Lee about last night. “I don’t like this. It seems too convenient. I think Costas and the robber are working together some kind of scam, using us.”
