An Angel in Stone

by Peggy Nicholson

  Raine glanced down ruefully at her forearm, pressed across her stomach, where three eggs nestled. She hadn’t wanted to accept them—the girl’s young mother seemed poor—but she hadn’t dared refuse. Payment to the goddess might clinch the magic. As her designated pinch hitter, Raine would have to pray this was so.

  She balanced up the log to the veranda, where the party rocked on. A frat-house beer bash did come to mind. Weaving her way between snoring, smiling bodies sprawled on the rough planks, and couples joyfully necking, she came to the circle of hard-core survivors.

  An old man played a stringed instrument with ferocious, fumble-fingered intensity while the headman and others droned mournfully along. Cade sat, surrounded by four of the village’s younger beauties, who giggled and tried to coax him to drink from a bottle. When he laughed and refused, they poured it over his head, dodging away when he roared and tried to fend them off—then sneaking back to drizzle more down his face and collar.

  Bedtime, Raine decided, backpedaling down the porch.

  But he’d spotted her. “Hey, you!” Cade hauled himself to his feet with the help of his giggling tormentors and staggered her way. “Where’d you go?”

  “A kid with a bad foot. I always bring extra antibiot—hey!” she yelped as he scooped her into his arms. Juggling eggs and her first-aid bag, she could only kick her feet and scowl. “Put me down!”

  “Nope.” He wobbled on toward the room where they’d left their packs. “You gotta help…me out here. Seems honor requires that…I drink myself into a coma. Or I get a pass if…I take somebody t’bed. But I’m not into twelve-year-old virgins, even when they’re cute as a basket of puppies, so…I choose you.” He nudged through the crude louvered door with one shoulder and into pitch darkness.

  “After you tried to kill me back in Singapore? Not a chance, Kincade. Don’t make me hurt you.” She tossed her med kit to safety.

  He laughed, sat with a thump that jarred her teeth. “Ooof!”

  Yuk, they’d cracked an egg! Raine flung the shell aside, wiped her hand on his sweaty T-shirt. “I mean it now, le’me go!” She kicked her legs over his forearm, but he simply hugged her closer.

  “Singapore?” Smelling of rice wine and bay rum, his face loomed over hers; she could feel its heat. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

  “You planted heroin in my bag, you jerk, remember?” She found the other two eggs wedged between their bodies and rescued them.

  “Nooo…I don’ remember. Zat’s why you ran?”

  “Zat’s exactly why. But don’t bother denying it. Who else would have done it?”

  “Beats…me.” Cade propped his forehead against hers. He sounded as if he were pondering hard. “You…mean it? Heroin?”

  She nodded and his arms tightened with the motion. Her arm nearest him was getting crushed. She moved it to encircle his neck—damn, but he was warm as an oven. And she was hotter, with her breast now flattened against his collarbone.

  “Weird,” he concluded finally. “But serves you right. They shoulda thrown your hot li’l butt in jail. Thrown away the key…You sent your brother t’beat up Mrs. Lia, didn’ you?”

  “My—What? Ash is in San Francisco. What the hell are you—”

  Cade nodded too many times, his damp hair brushing her cheek. “Finally…figured it out. There’s been two of you all long…One t’throw Lia out the window, while one stands down below. Then there musta been two of you on the plane from New York. I keep my eye on the sexy one—the other one beats Lia’s mom half to death and when I catch him, he’s a goner. Your brother, gonezo.”

  “Lia’s mom was—Is she all right?”

  “No thanks t’your bro’, whose head I’m gonna pers’nlly bust.”

  Raine cupped her hand to the nape of Cade’s neck and reeled him in till their noses touched. “Kincade, listen to me. Ash is not here on Borneo. Are you listening?”

  “Mmm,” he purred, like a lion drifting off to sleep.

  “And I didn’t hire anybody to throw Lia out the window. And you say you didn’t plant heroin on me—you swear that? By everything you hold dear?”

  “All I’m holdin’ is you, dear. An aaarmload of she-devil.” Holding her tight, Cade sank gradually backward, till he trapped her forearm between his neck and the floor planks. Another egg cracked.

  “You’re not going to remember this in the morning,” Raine said in disgust. She tossed the shell aside, rolled the intact one off into the dark, wiped her hand on his shoulder.

  “In my dreams,” Cade murmured. He strained upward, his abs crunching, to kiss her ear.

  He needed a shave; she needed…He trailed a chain of openmouthed kisses down her neck…nibbled, when he got to her shoulder.

  She shuddered with pleasure. Yeah, did she need. And by morning, he’d have forgotten everything. It’d be a free ride. I shouldn’t do this. Should not. She twisted out of his loosening hold to lie full length on top of him. But, God, you’re gorgeous! She smoothed a hand down his sculpted torso, trailed it on down his muscled thigh. She couldn’t help herself. Her hips rocked a slow suggestion.

  He gave that rumbling purr again as he cupped her buttocks—and curled his fingers deep into the cleft between. Snugged her close.

  His lips moved hungrily against her throat. He sighed soft and slow—his hands relaxed on her bottom.

  “Cade?” she almost whimpered, nudging him again. “Kincade?”

  “Mmmmmmmmmm.” He had to be smiling in his sleep.

  “You…rat. You quitter. You…” Man. When they came up with an acceptable substitute, she’d be first in line. Raine rolled off him and flopped over onto her back—and crushed the third egg.

  Chapter 20

  Somebody had been playing basketball with his head, Cade decided, without opening his eyes. One of those quaint Dayak customs they’d forgotten to mention, till the fifth time the rice wine went round.

  Plus the longhouse was doing barrel rolls—was going to flip over on top of him any second now. Carefully he starfished his arms and legs, the better to cling to this heaving world…with a groan he drifted away.

  Who knew how much later, morning drove splinters of sunlight under his eyelids. A memory shafted straight to his groin. Raine. He’d held her? Kissed her! From collarbone to crotch, he could feel her body’s imprint—God—had she really lain on top of him, her wicked long legs wedged between his? His fingers curled in against his palms, seeking curves and softness. Finding only air.

  Did we…? He was surely in Hell, if they had and he’d lost the memory! With a groan, he struggled up to one elbow. “Raine?”

  Silence nearby. Low murmurs in the distance, a dog barking, children’s laughter. He dared to open his eyes. “Raine.”

  He was alone in their room. He sat up with wincing care—and grunted in surprise. Crackle shirt? His fingers trailed over patches of squish and caked hardness. What on earth did we do?

  And there were eggshells scattered all around.

  Another ten minutes passed before Cade noticed that her pack was gone. Where it had leaned in the corner, a cluster of objects anchored down a sheet of paper torn from a notepad. He picked up the note.

  Bet you forgot to bring guest gifts, so do us both a favor? Give Mrs. Headman these beads, with our thanks for a fabulous meal. The Swiss army knife is for the bossman, of course, and the fishing gear’s for Ngali. Please tell them it was a lovely party. I’d tell them myself, but everybody’s sleeping in, this morning.

  And do yourself a favor, Cade. Stay here till Roger flies through again. He said he’d be swinging back this way in a week or two.

  Son of a bitch, she’d gone! That’s what this note was—sayonara! Cade staggered to his feet. He was dressed; all he needed was his…

  He looked down. Must have gone to sleep in his shoes. He still wore yesterday’s clothes, which, come to think of it, must mean they hadn’t…

  But if he’d slept in his hiking boots…He squinted owlishly. Straightened at last to turn in a
slow grim circle. Where were they?

  “Ashaway, you didn’t.” She might be crazy, but surely she wasn’t suicidal? He returned to the note he held.

  Trust me on this. It would be very stupid to follow. Dangerous. Step on a krait and you’re history.

  She had. The treacherous she-devil had stolen his boots.

  Five miles down the trail to Old Long Badu, Raine aimed her blowgun at an overhanging branch. She blew gently. Her dart flew true, trailing a gossamer thread of fishing line. The dart reached the apex of its flight just beyond the limb, and fell; she caught it midair. Cutting the doubled line off her missile, she tied one end to the laces of Cade’s right boot—then pulled on the other end to hoist it.

  When his boot dangled twenty feet in the air, she walked her tail of the nylon line over to a wilderness of vines growing up another tree. She stood frozen, scanning carefully for snakes, then reached into the thicket and tied the line off. In the murky green light of the forest, he’d never find it. If Cade wanted his boot, he’d have to get it the hard way—by climbing. That should cost him half an hour at least.

  Hope he has the sense to give up, stay in New Long Badu, she thought—then made a rueful face. Funny how she knew him not at all, yet knew him very well. No way would her trick stop him.

  By now Cade must have discovered that not a man in the village wore a size twelve, or anything like it. He’d improvise shoes from something—probably buy cloth from the women to wrap his bare feet, like a soldier at Valley Forge. “Sorry, Handsome,” she said aloud, smiling as she used a leafy branch to brush out all traces of her endeavors. Shouldering her pack, she glanced up at his boot. He’d never notice it.

  She’d meant to leave him a note at mile ten, but her conscience was pricking her, which was ridiculous, considering Cade played for keeps. Still, roughly two miles down the trail, Raine stopped to draw a large bull’s-eye with her heel in the moist humus. She pulled out her pocket pad and printed:

  OOPS! You’ve come TOO FAR! Go back roughly two miles and look up—and you’ll find your sole desire.

  She weighted her note with a branch and left it in the circle. She’d just given herself a four-mile advantage, which she’d better exploit, because if Kincade ever caught her, he’d stick a cobra down her shirt.

  And that was before she’d hung his second boot.

  They’d lit the lanterns in Old Long Badu by the time Raine reached the river town. She stood for a moment, looking back to where the trail bored a black hole in the jungle. Hope you had the sense to stop and make camp before the dark closed down. She hoped he’d brought a hammock, a mosquito net, waterproof matches, a good water filter.

  What am I, his mother? Whether Kincade was a killer or not—and after his accusations last night, Raine was finding that harder and harder to believe—still, the man meant to ruin her family.

  Beating him to the dino was her only way to prevent that. But all the same…What if he fell, climbing for a boot, and now he’s lying back there in the dark with a broken leg?

  What if, God forbid, he’d stepped on a krait?

  If he had, it was way too late to worry. “Didn’t see one all day,” she muttered, turning and trudging toward the town.

  One was all it’d take.

  “Punan, they come and they go,” said Lia’s cousin Ah San, as he re-filled Raine’s teacup. “Once, twice, each year, two or three of their men come. They bring boar fat, honey, camphor wood, birds of the forest. I take these things and give them salt, rice, pretties for their women.”

  Raine nodded and sipped. They’d dealt with Lia’s death over the first cup. She’d dreaded breaking the news, but without need. He’d known already; days ago the riverboat had brought a letter from Lia’s mother. And if the loss of his clever stepcousin grieved him, he was hiding it well. He was still eager to do business. He’d been disappointed to learn from Raine that his tooth and watch had been stolen. But perhaps there were other ways to turn a profit? He had information. If Raine had come all the way from New York City, then clearly she wanted it.

  So far he was giving it freely, but at some point, they both understood: there’d be a fee.

  “So a Punan you call White Dog brought the tooth and the watch. Brought them both together?” Raine prodded gently.

  “Yes.” Ah San glanced around the crowded shelves of his small store, shadowy in the lamplight. “I give him forty pounds of rice for the tooth. And twenty pounds salt for the watch.”

  Robber. Raine nodded gently and sipped. On the other hand, in the jungle, salt would keep a family alive. Time they had in plenty, and with the sun and moon to measure it, who needed a gold-plated watch? “Did White Dog say that he found the tooth and the watch in the same place?”

  Ah San lifted his narrow shoulders. “The Punan don’t speak. They put a thing on my counter and smile. If I want it, I set my hand on it and nod. Then they point at my shelves, what they like. And so we come to a bargain.”

  “I see.” Raine sipped and thought for a while. Impatience would be rude. It also showed weakness; Too Eager would pay a higher price. “Would you know how a person could find this Punan?” she asked at last.

  Ah San sucked his teeth. “This…would not be easy. The Punan follow the wild pigs, the fruit when it ripens. Camp here one day, there the next. Better you wait for them to come to Long Badu, then ask your questions.”

  Raine sipped, nodded, then said, “And how long would I need to wait?”

  The shopkeeper consulted the gecko that crouched upside down on the ceiling. “Five months? Six? No more than ten, I think.”

  Yeah, right. She’d found a bed at the only guesthouse in town—and a sleepy five-foot python in its communal shower. Six months of that would get old. Besides which, Cade could reach town by morning—not a healthy prospect. “If a person didn’t wish to wait. If she wished to go to the forest, find the Punan…would that be possible?”

  “This might be possible. But it is not wise. The snakes, the heat. The rivers have danger higher up, how you say it, waterfalling?”

  “You are very kind to advise me. But I would like to try. What would be the price to hire a guide? With a boat.”

  “Ah.” Ah San figuratively rolled up his sleeves and settled to what he did best—cutting a deal.

  It was well past midnight by the time they’d hammered out an agreement. Cost for two boats, two guides. Provisions and fuel for same. Ah San’s finder’s fee if she found the Punan; his bonus if she found the rest of the dino. His price for silence; he’d tell no one who came after her anything at all.

  Like I really believe that! was Raine’s opinion on this promise; let Cade open his wallet and the trader would talk soon enough.

  Still once he’d demanded hush money, she had to give him another hundred just to help him save face. If she failed to find White Dog herself, then six months from now Ah San would be her only connection. Her last hope.

  Meanwhile, she’d hiked twenty miles that day in soggy equatorial heat, with a heavy pack; Raine yearned to put her head down on the counter and sleep. And they’d be starting early in the morning, she’d specified; she’d meet her guide here at eight. “Well,” she murmured, “if that’s all for tonight?”

  But now that he’d softened her up, and gotten a better notion of what she could and would pay, Ah San brought out the gem he’d been withholding. “One other thing more.” He dragged a battered aluminum cigar case off a shelf then shook out a rectangular shape. “The Punan also trade me this, when he bring me the tooth and watch. It seem of little value, so I don’t send it to Lia. Who would want to buy old writing, I’m thinking? But now I’m thinking…”

  He was thinking right. It took Raine another hour, and another thousand dollars, to buy the tattered little notebook, filled with faded script.

  The note inside its cover read: “if you find this, please return to Private Amos Szabo, 511th PIR, 11th Airborne.”

  Ngali actually fell down in the dirt, laughing, when they backtracked to t
he first boot. “That Bungan, that Raine, she mad at you! Very mad, I’m thinking. A man drink much and much rice wine, his spear go soft as an old black banana. He not please his woman in the night, she make him pay and pay!”

  “Thanks for the advice,” Cade snarled, hauling himself up the vines that clung to the tree. He’d have been delighted to dispense with his audience, but when he’d asked for the path to Old Long Badu, Ngali had insisted he was going that way and he’d tagged along.

  Strictly for entertainment, Cade suspected, but Kalimantan was a free country; what could he do? Sooner or later the young man would turn back. Children followed the circus only so far from town.

  By the time they reached Old Long Badu the next morning, Cade was revising his notion of what “so far” might mean. Ngali still padded merrily at his side.

  Though there was no denying the kid could be an asset in the jungle. He’d built a one-man thatch-roofed sleeping platform last night in the time it took Cade to hang his hammock and suspend his pack from a branch. While Cade built a fire, Ngali had strung his bow and disappeared—returning in twenty minutes with a small, skinned mammal that Cade thought it wise not to examine too closely. Whatever it was, once roasted on sticks, it tasted like the inevitable chicken—with undertones of carp. They’d shared a bag of dried peaches for dessert, then gone to bed.

  But in Cade’s case, hardly to sleep. The sounds in the forest were astounding. He’d heard quieter Saturday nights in Times Square. He reckoned it must have been well past 3:00 a.m. before sheer exhaustion drowned out the hoots, bellows, clicks, ominous rustlings. Sounds of munching—and of munchees. He’d snatched a few hours of desperately needed sleep, only to be roused by Ngali’s laughter at dawn.