Jaws of Death

by Paul Adam

  ‘They’re not crazy – and you know it. That’s why you’re scared of them. That’s why you’ve done all this kidnapping and brainwashing. Because environmentalists and scientists and all the others are a threat to your money-making.’

  ‘Think what you like, Max. It doesn’t matter now. Neither you nor your father will trouble me further.’

  Max felt his guts turn to ice. ‘What are you talking about?’ he asked hoarsely.

  Clark nodded at the guard by the door. ‘Bring him in now.’

  Max twisted round in his chair. Was his father here? But it wasn’t his dad who was escorted into the office by the guard – it was Jaya, from the orang-utan sanctuary. A wave of disappointment washed over Max.

  ‘You’re surprised, I see,’ Clark said. ‘You’ve met Jaya already, I know that. But what you didn’t know is that he is one of my fifth columnists – one of the people who went to Shadow Island and returned as my faithful servant. Ostensibly working to save those cute little orange apes, but really working for me. Making a few eco-friendly noises for the press and gullible tourists, but doing absolutely nothing concrete to stand in the way of my oil-palm plantations. There are hundreds more like him all around the world, and many more to follow in the years ahead, until all serious opposition to my global businesses has been eliminated.’

  ‘Where’s my dad?’ Max demanded. ‘What’s happened to him?’

  ‘Tell him,’ Clark ordered Jaya.

  Jaya didn’t look at Max. His eyes – glazed over a little, as if he were in a semi-trance – were fixed on the tycoon. ‘Your father is dead,’ he said expressionlessly.

  ‘No!’ Max cried. ‘No, he can’t be. When? Where?’

  ‘Two days ago in Pangkalan Bun,’ Jaya replied.

  ‘You’re lying.’

  ‘I saw his body in the hospital, spoke to the doctor who treated him. I watched him being put in a coffin and buried.’

  ‘What did he die of?’

  ‘Heart failure.’

  Max stared at him bleakly. Was Jaya telling the truth? Max had a terrible conviction that he was. A great sorrow passed through him, then a surge of blind fury.

  ‘Episuderon, that’s what killed him,’ he yelled. ‘You killed him.’

  He launched himself up from his chair and over the desk, his hands trying to grasp Clark around the neck, throttle him. But the guard stepped in and knocked Max to the floor.

  Clark adjusted his tie and dusted off his jacket. Then he smiled icily at Max. ‘Your protector is dead, the thorn in my side is dead. I left you alive because I thought you might lead me to your father, might lead me to the top of the Cedar Alliance. But he’s gone now, Max. And you have outlived your usefulness.’

  Max staggered to his feet, rubbing his head where the guard had hit him. ‘What’re you saying?’

  ‘You’re an irritation, like a fly buzzing around an elephant,’ Clark said. ‘Sooner or later the elephant gets tired and treads on the fly.’

  ‘You’re going to kill me? You can’t get away with that. People know I’m here.’

  ‘Consuela Navarra and Chris Moncrieffe? They too will disappear.’

  Clark got up from his chair and looked at the guard. ‘Take him outside. You made a fool of me on Shadow Island, Max. But you won’t do it twice. This time I’m going to make sure the job’s done properly.’

  TWENTY-ONE

  There was a second armed guard waiting outside the building. He was holding a length of rope.

  ‘Hands behind your back, Max,’ Clark commanded.

  ‘Get stuffed,’ Max retorted defiantly.

  Clark nodded at the guards. One of them seized hold of Max, restraining him, while the other forced his hands round behind his back and bound them with the rope. Max tensed his muscles as the knots were being tied, making his wrists expand so that there’d be a bit of slack in the bonds. It was a thick rope – that was good. It was harder to tie tight knots in thick rope, and easier to undo them. Max was in a frightening situation, but he was still thinking clearly, still calculating how he might get out of it.

  ‘Search him,’ Clark instructed the guards.

  They frisked him thoroughly, checking beneath his clothes, in his pockets, in his socks and shoes.

  ‘Nothing, sir,’ one of them said.

  ‘What are you going to do with me?’ Max asked.

  ‘You’ll see.’

  The guards took hold of Max’s arms and marched him across to the quay and down a flight of concrete steps to a small dinghy with an outboard motor. Max was made to sit on the middle seat while the guards tied his ankles together, then fastened a heavy iron weight around his waist.

  ‘You’re going to drown me?’ Max said to Clark, who had taken the seat in the bow just a metre away from him.

  Clark smiled ghoulishly. ‘If you’re lucky.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Clark gave a signal to a man on the other side of the harbour, who activated a switch on the wall behind him. The wide metal gates between the harbour and the river started to swing open.

  ‘You see over there?’ Clark said, pointing across the river. ‘On the bank?’

  Max turned his head to look and his heart almost stopped. On the far side of the river, basking on a patch of mud, was an enormous crocodile, at least four metres long from snout to tail.

  ‘My men call him Raja, which means prince or ruler,’ Clark said. ‘He’s quite a size, isn’t he? And he has such an appetite.’

  ‘You’re feeding me to him?’ Max said, feeling suddenly faint with terror.

  ‘You’re not the first. Raja has helped out with a few other difficult individuals. He’s so good at removing all the evidence. I’d like to tell you it will be a painless death, Max, but I fear it won’t.’

  The guard in the stern started the outboard motor and steered the dinghy out across the harbour. When they reached the middle, he cut the motor and let the dinghy drift. Max glanced over the side. The water was cloudy and opaque. It was impossible to tell how deep it was.

  ‘It’s time to go now, Max,’ Clark said. ‘Time to join your father. You didn’t find him in life, but maybe you’ll be reunited in death.’

  The guards grabbed Max by the arms. He made no attempt to resist. He was bound and weighted, a boy against three men. There was no point in struggling or fighting – that would only tire him out needlessly. He had to concentrate on his breathing, on taking in enough air to allow him to stay underwater for the longest possible time.

  He went limp as the guards lifted him off the seat and swung him out over the side of the boat, then sucked in as much air as he could, filling every crevice of his lungs before he hit the water.

  He sank like a stone, the iron weight around his waist carrying him five metres straight down to the river bed. Max looked up. He couldn’t see the dinghy above him, not even a vague outline of its hull. That gave him a glimmer of hope. If he couldn’t see the boat, that meant Clark and the guards couldn’t see him; couldn’t see where he was or what he was doing. He’d been working discreetly on his bonds from the moment they’d been tied, trying to loosen the knots. Now he had to get his hands round in front of him to finish the job. This was something he’d practised countless times for his stage show. He’d even done it underwater a few times, though never with a hungry crocodile in the vicinity. Where was Raja? He might have slid into the water by now and be swimming out in search of his dinner. Max had to get his hands free before the creature reached him. If he didn’t, he was dead.

  He bent his legs and brought his knees up to his chest, then hooked his bound hands down underneath his bottom and around his feet. Thank goodness they’d attached the weight to his waist, not his ankles.

  Max lifted his hands to his face and gnawed at the knots with his teeth, exhaling a little to stop his mouth flooding with water. How long had he been under? Half a minute, no more. He was still feeling comfortable, still had plenty of air in his lungs.

  One strand of rope came undone.
Max tugged on the loop, stretching the rope with both his teeth and wrists, twisting and turning his hands until one of them came free – only just in time, for out of the murky depths there suddenly erupted a long, shadowy shape. Max caught a glimpse of a gleaming snout, a jaw snapping open, a row of pointed teeth, and threw himself sideways.

  The crocodile swept past, only inches away from Max’s face. His swinging tail lashed out, catching Max on the shoulder and knocking him flying. Max twisted round, his upper arm stinging from the blow. There was no sign of Raja. He had disappeared into the gloom. But he’d be back. Back soon.

  Max looked down at his body. Should he untie his ankles next, so he could swim away from the crocodile, or tackle the weight around his waist? He made a split-second decision to go for the weight. He knew he’d never out-swim Raja – he’d be stupid to even try – but the weight might just be a useful weapon.

  He clawed at the rope – a big single knot that was getting tighter as the strands absorbed water. He could feel the pressure on his lungs now. He was using up oxygen at a dangerous rate and didn’t know how much longer he could stay down. The knot started to come apart. Max glanced up briefly. Where was Raja? He couldn’t be far away. The first strand came undone, then the next. Max tore the weight from his waist. It was about the size of a house brick, but much heavier. Max held it in both hands. Raja should have been back by now. Where was he? Max peered through the inky water, then felt a vibration behind him. He spun round. The crocodile had come in a full circle to approach from the opposite direction. He was two metres away, shooting towards Max like a missile. Max ducked and flung up his arms. The iron weight smashed into Raja’s snout and Max felt the jawbone fracture. The creature streaked past, the water churning and bubbling behind him. Then he was gone.

  Max did a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree scan, watching for the crocodile coming back. Had he driven Raja away with that crushing blow, or had he simply antagonized him, made him even angrier? Max’s chest was in agony now. He’d been under for more than two minutes and using a lot of energy, a lot of oxygen, for his muscles. He couldn’t stay down any longer.

  Reluctantly, but knowing he had no choice, he let go of the weight and bent over to untie the rope around his ankles. Then he kicked upwards, feeling utterly vulnerable. If Raja came back now, he had no way of defending himself. He saw the hull of the dinghy emerging through the foggy water and changed course to come up directly underneath it. Where would Clark and his men be looking? Max couldn’t be certain. He couldn’t afford to give them even the tiniest suspicion that he was still alive. They had to think he was down there being devoured by the crocodile.

  Max examined the hull of the boat. His chest was ready to explode, his vision blurring. He had to have oxygen, but if he surfaced, there was a good chance he would be spotted. Then he noticed that the stern of the dinghy dipped in just below the outboard motor housing, leaving a small cavity that couldn’t be seen from above. Max turned onto his back and pushed his face up into the cavity. His mouth broke the surface and he took a few gulps of air, trying to make no noise.

  ‘You see anything?’ he heard Clark say.

  ‘No, sir,’ one of the guards replied.

  ‘How long has he been under?’

  ‘Nearly four minutes. He must be dead now, sir. No one can stay down that long, especially a kid.’

  ‘He’s no ordinary kid,’ Clark said. ‘Give it another couple of minutes. What about Raja?’

  ‘He’s down there, sir. I saw his tail. He’s probably chewing on the boy right now.’

  ‘Let’s hope so.’

  Max floated quietly beneath the dinghy. His chest and legs were touching the underside of the hull, his face directly behind the drive shaft of the outboard motor.

  ‘OK, that’s long enough,’ Clark said. ‘Six minutes. He’s gone for sure.’

  Max filled his lungs again and ducked back down, making sure he stayed out of sight below the boat. Then he felt a pulse through the water, like a mini shock wave, and rolled over to see the crocodile hurtling towards him, jaws parted. There was no time to get out of the way, and he had no weapons except his bare hands and feet. He clenched his fists, getting ready to lash out, even though he knew he had no chance. The creature’s snout loomed up only a few metres away. Max could see the glint in Raja’s eyes, malevolent and triumphant, and braced himself for the impact – an impact he knew would be the last thing he ever felt.

  Then the water by his face suddenly exploded into a foaming maelstrom of bubbles – and something else that looked like tiny pieces of flesh and droplets of blood. Max recoiled, realizing what had happened. The outboard motor had started up at the exact moment Raja was passing beneath it, and the spinning propeller had cut into his snout, slicing through the skin and muscle. The creature veered away in agony and fright and vanished into the bowels of the river.

  The dinghy was on the move now. Max swam along beneath it at the same pace and remained under the hull when the boat docked against the harbour steps. Only when he was certain that Clark and the two guards had left the boat and climbed up onto the quay did he let himself bob up by the outboard motor and start breathing again.

  He was completely exhausted. His lungs were burning, his head aching. Clinging to the side of the dinghy, gasping for breath, he looked around the harbour and across the river, trying to catch sight of Raja. Was he still lurking close by, waiting for the opportunity to strike back, or had he retired to some hollow along the riverbank to nurse his wounds? Max couldn’t be sure, but he knew he shouldn’t stay in the water. Regardless of the crocodile, he was too exposed if anyone happened to look down from the quayside. He had to find somewhere to hole up for the rest of the day, and wait for darkness to cover his next move. But where?

  Climbing the steps onto the quay was out of the question – someone would spot him for certain. The barges? There were several tied up, waiting to be loaded with containers, but they probably wouldn’t be there for long. Once their cargoes were on board they’d be towed away downstream and Max didn’t want to leave the compound just yet. He still had business to take care of.

  Then he noticed another barge tucked away in a corner of the harbour. It appeared older, shabbier than the other. Its sides were caked with rust and its deck cluttered with crates, ropes, boxes and dented oil drums. It looked like some kind of floating store, a dumping area for discarded junk – and maybe a perfect place to hide.

  Max scanned the water again. It was smooth and calm, no obvious sign of Raja. He just had to take a chance and hope the crocodile had gone. Inhaling deeply, he ducked down beneath the dinghy and struck out underwater towards the barge. It was the longest fifty-metre swim of his life. His heart was beating like a jackhammer, his eyes turning from side to side, expecting any second to see the furious creature bursting out of the cloudy water.

  But nothing happened. Max reached the barge safely and surfaced by the stern. He hauled himself up onto the deck and crouched down behind some boxes. A dirty tarpaulin was piled in a crumpled heap next to the boxes. Max lifted one end of it and slipped underneath, covering his whole body but leaving a small opening by his head so he could breathe. He stretched out, closed his eyes and waited for nightfall.

  Max poked his head cautiously out from the tarpaulin and listened for a moment. The sky was dark, a few stars glinting over the horizon. He’d been undercover for several hours, a hot, uncomfortable period during which he’d dwelt at length on his father’s death, hearing Jaya’s words over and over again in his mind. I saw his body in the hospital, spoke to the doctor who treated him. I watched him being put in a coffin and buried.

  I was so close, Max thought bitterly, shedding a few quiet tears. I nearly found you, Dad. And now you’ve been taken from me.

  Whatever the apparent cause of death, Max knew it was Julius Clark who’d killed his father. And he wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

  He crawled out from under the tarpaulin, crouched in the shelter of a box and l
ooked around. It was late evening, but the processing plant was still operating. There was a floodlight illuminating the quayside where the containers were stacked, and from behind the metal walls of the building came the hum of machinery.

  Max rummaged around in the debris on the deck and found a short piece of thick wire. Then he crept to the side of the barge and climbed up the steel ladder that was bolted to the concrete wall of the harbour. At the top he paused and spied out the land. The high rear doors of the plant were open, and the gantry crane was sliding in and out carrying containers. Max could see the driver in his glass-walled cab and a couple of other workers on the ground inside the doors. Even if they looked his way, Max knew they wouldn’t see him. The lighting was very localized and the quayside nearby was in shadow.

  He waited a few more seconds, then scrambled up off the ladder and flitted across to the first of the single-storey office blocks. He pressed himself against the wall and stole round the back of the building. Thirty metres away, on the open ground by the perimeter fence, was the helicopter that had flown Julius Clark in earlier.

  Max counted off the blocks, working out which one contained Clark’s office, then darted across to it. The light was on, spilling out through the window. Max crouched down, then slowly straightened up and peeped over the windowsill. Clark was seated at his desk. He was half turned away from the window, working at his computer. Max had a clear view of the screen and keyboard.

  The screen was displaying some kind of financial information – long lines of numbers that Max thought were probably accounts. Clark scrolled down through the figures, then reached sideways into one of the desk drawers and took out a slim memory stick. He inserted the stick into the USB port on the front of the computer system unit and saved the file to it. Then he removed the stick and tucked it away in his jacket pocket.

  He closed the file on the screen and clicked the mouse to open a new folder. A password box appeared. Clark hit a series of keys. Max watched intently, noting exactly where the man’s fingers went. A folder icon popped up and Clark opened a file within it. More figures and some text came up on the screen, too small for Max to read from the window. Clark added a few numbers, as if he were updating records, then closed the file and shut down the system.