Time of the Temptress

by Violet Winspear

  "No, I'll wait as well. I'm eager to have a look round this place and do some scavenging." He went into the hut and put the nut away with their dwindling supplies of food, and then together they searched the ruins of the other huts but found nothing that was still usable, but they were lucky enough to find some patches of cultivation where upon scraping with his hands Wade unearthed several large, knobbly-looking yams, some wild spinach, and cobs of corn.

  They were congratulating themselves on this little crock of eatables, when to their astonishment they heard a gobbling sound from among the bushes and the next instant a turkey came pecking its way into the yard where they were standing. It cocked an eye at them, and then went on thrusting its yellow beak in and out of the dirt, where there must have been some stray corn seed.

  Wade caught Eve's glance and his eyes cautioned her not to move and startle the bird, which despite its rather scrawney appearance could provide them with a couple of square meals. Eve wasn't chicken-hearted, but she had never been right on the scene when a bird for the table had had its neck wrung, but she knew from the look on Wade's face that he was about to do just that the instant he got his hands on the turkey.

  He leapt, there was a wild squawk, a flutter of feathers, and Eve turned away as the powerful hands did their work. Why would he hesitate? She had to re-[101-102]member all the time that Wade had killed men just as easily and efficiently; that he had given himself to warfare as a monk to religion.

  "You can open your eyes," he drawled. "And think of it like this, if I'm going to build a boat I need to have my strength built up."

  "It's just that a minute ago the poor thing was pecking away without a care in the world, and now--" Now the limp body hung from Wade's hand and there wasn't even the remotest look of compunction in the steel-grey eyes that met Eve's.

  "We have to eat," he said curtly. "There isn't a supermarket round the corner where the frozen poultry is stacked in its container, having come from the battery farm where those poor things never get a chance to peck about in a yard. You'll enjoy your drumstick as much as I shall, along with baked beans and some of these greens. A solid meal will do wonders for both of us."

  "I know that, but you're so--"

  "Is ruthless the word you're searching for, Eve?"

  "Not quite, but you are unmercifully efficient when it comes to the crunch, aren't you?"

  "I've had to be, lady. In Malaya, Cyprus, Belfast--and out here. He who hesitates is a goner. Now let's take this helpful hoard of food to the hut and then we'll take a look at some of those trees that fell in the storm last night."

  "Can't you take me to the river while you have a look round in the jungle?" she asked, carrying greens and corncobs in her arms as they made their way back to the hut. "It will be cooler there and after all that rain there'll be swarm [sic] of insects among the trees."

  "The trouble is, young Eve, when you get near water [102-103] you're inclined to lose your head, not to mention your pants. Can I trust you to be good? Sometimes these rivers run an undertow and I don't want to see you drowned now I've got you this far in one piece."

  build a boat I need to have my strengt "I'll be as good as gold," she promised eagerly. "I can read that book you put in your knapsack, and you can get on with your--work."

  "Don't we sound domesticated?" he jeered. "Right, if you're going to behave yourself, then you can sit by the river and read. Are you wearing a watch?"

  "Yes, but it's stopped. I forgot to take it off when I took a bath in the creek."

  "That's what you get for being too eager." He marched ahead of her into the hut and proceeded to tear a chunk of the mosquito netting so he could wrap the turkey until he had time to pluck it. They placed the vegetables in the iron pot, and Eve asked him if she might borrow his book.

  "You're welcome," he said. "It's a Carter Dickson, but don't you dare tell me the ending."

  "He's good, isn't he? Thanks." She caught the book as Wade tossed it. Then he came over and thrust something else into her hand--a packet of nuts and raisins.

  "They'll keep up your vitality." He stood looking down at her, and then, casually, he pushed a stray lock of hair back from her eyes. "You do realise, Eve, that we're in the middle of a revolt and there may come a moment when I shall have to do to a man what I did to that bird? Out here you do it silently if you can, because a shot can be heard a long way off, and you get the stray rebel who breaks away from the rest, pillaging on his own, or attempting to get back to his family. One of those could come along, so I'm warning you to be [103-104] on the alert. I'd really prefer to have you where I can keep my eye on you--"

  "I'll be all right," she said quickly. "I'm not going to think about the black side of things, because that only turns my stomach over and makes me feel nervous."

  "Right. I want to spend at least a couple of hours in the bush and get in as much work as possible, for I shall have to make a rope to tow the tree to the river bank. I shall need the panga, so I'm going to trust you with the Breda. Here, take hold of it, it shouldn't be too heavy."

  Eve hesitated, then took the shotgun and found it warm from Wade's skin. "Am I supposed to use it?" she asked.

  "It will give you a feeling of security. If you see anything move, then you get to me as fast as you can. You'll know where I am, for you'll hear me slashing about with the panga, cutting off branches from the tree and chopping down vines to make a rope. Keep alert, Eve. Don't get too carried away by the thriller."

  She smiled, and again was struck by the feeling of being so far from all the civilised aspects of her life that they seemed impossibly unreal--lunch with a girlfriend in a Sloane Square bistro, a wander around an art gallery, and maybe a spin into the country for tea-time tennis. None of it bore any relation to what was happening here, two people struggling for existence in a jungle full of dangers that could strike at them without warning.

  The river wasn't wide, but it was running at a good pace, and Eve settled down on the plaid robe for a rub, beneath the shade of some canopy banyans. "A little taste of laleia, eh?" Wade said, looking about him with [104-105] keen eyes, though she felt that it wasn't the flamboyant butterflies he was watching.

  "Laleia?"

  "Paradise--Eden." He spoke quizzically, but when he looked down at her there was something in his eyes she couldn't quite fathom. "But don't let it fool you, remember the story of that other Eve and what she found lurking behind a tree."

  He shot a glance at his watch. "You can stay here an hour, and then the sun will be high, right above you, and you'll come to me, do you hear?"

  "Yes, bwana," she said meekly.

  "And keep your ears peeled."

  "I will."

  "Um, now I've got to get to work." He weighed the panga in his hand. "What a stroke of luck they taught me carpentry at that orphanage--carpentry and killing, the requisites of the old pioneers. That's what I feel like, right now--a pioneer about to tackle a bit of husbandry."

  Eve smiled, but her pulses had given an alarming jump, as if he realised that he had said something a little too meaningful, he turned curtly away from her. "Be careful, be good," he said, and a few seconds later he had gone among the sombre towering trees and the green curtains of foliage that fell into place behind his tall figure, the big leaves folding together to intensify Eve's sudden sense of isolation. She chewed a nut and gazed thoughtfully across the river, listening to the sound of birds . . . feeling her drumming heart as it slowly quietened down.

  It could have been laleia, she thought, had there been no rebellion to fear, no other woman to remember, [105-106] she and Wade alone, letting nothing matter except that he had become her world, the vital heart of it, where nothing would exist but the excitement, the heaven and hunger of being in his arms.

  It was a tumultuous truth she could only face for a moment, and then she pushed it resolutely out of mind and bent over the paperback, glad to find that the story was set in London of the pre-war days, when parts of Holborn had been very mysterious. In
a while Eve became absorbed in the story, carried away by the mastery of the storyteller . . . it was a sudden sense of quiet rather than a sound that touched a warning finger to the base of her spine, sending a shiver through her.

  She glanced up slowly, her fingers clenching on the book. The tiny hairs on the nape of her neck were prickling and she sensed instantly that something was standing behind her, ominously still for the moment, but poised to come at her. Her nostrils quivered, but there was no catlike aroma to warn her that a leopard was close to her, so that any sudden movement would be fatal. And she had to turn and look . . . she couldn't just sit here and be pounded upon.

  As Eve turned to look, she clutched the Breda and felt the sudden moistness of her hands.

  Dark eyes were fixed upon her, raking over her with an intent she understood with sickening clarity . . . then he began to move towards her, and Eve knew she must use the Breda and blast him before he got to her. She raised it and it suddenly felt as heavy as lead . . . he stood still a moment, the thick lips leering back from the white teeth. It was like one of those awful slow-motion dreams, and then she had her finger on the bolt [106-107] and was forcing herself to pull it back and release the lead into his face, for it was his face that was so frightening.

  The gun fired and the butt kicked hard against her shoulder, but the bullet had flown wild and before she could fire again he was upon her and was wrenching the Breda away from her. Eve felt a terror beyond anything she had ever known . . . as a scream ripped from her, he had hold of her and she smelled his sour body odour and saw him swinging the butt of the gun at her head, and even as she ducked he gave a strange liquid cry, his eyes seemed to bulge from their sockets, and then he fell as if pole-axed and Eve saw the knife with its steel blade buried deep in his back, high up where his spine was joined to his neck.

  "You okay, lady?" Wade was bending over her, helping her to her feet. She swayed from reaction and was caught to Wade's body, gripped so painfully hard that she almost lost her breath. They stayed like that for several long moments, while the flurried movements of the birds and monkeys settled down until the most persistent sound was that of the flies drawn to that silent form that lay face down on the riverbank, the back of the combat jacket darkly stained where the knife jutted.

  "I--I'm a rotten shot," Eve said shakily. "But thank God you heard the gun going off."

  "I suppose you got lost in that darn thriller." He pressed her to him, as if to instil some of his warmth and strength into her. "Now forget about it, honey, it's over and done with--"

  "He came up on me like an animal," she said, shuddering. "He was upon me almost before I could grab the gun, then my shot went wild a--and all I could see [107-108] was that awful, savage face--another second and he'd have split my head open."

  Then, driven beyond a force she couldn't control, Eve suddenly flung her arms about Wade's neck and reached for his face with her lips. She felt the tough skin and bone of him, and then he was gripping her hands and forcing her away from him. "There's no need for that," he said, roughly. "I've got to shift this hog out of the way before every fly in the jungle comes buzzing around."

  "You saved my life," she said simply.

  "It's what I'm paid to do," he rejoined, then bending over the dead body of the insurgent he began to go through his pockets. Eve gnawed her knuckles and gazed down at Wade's dark head . . . there was no way to stop what she was feeling for him, for it was right inside her. She watched as he drew out something from one of the pockets of the stained combat jacket and carefully examined it, then with a smile that slashed lines in his brown face he glanced up at Eve.

  "This maverick's been following the river route to the coast--see, his map! It bears out my feeling that we couldn't go far wrong if we continued by canoe, but are you still prepared for that? I need time to build the boat, but now we have this map we could trek it, if that's what you want?"

  "It's for you to decide, Wade." She wanted to get away from this place right now, and would have been happy had he decided to pack up then and there. "Are you going to be able to build the canoe?"

  "Sure, there's no problem, but I need a few days to do it in, and this nasty customer might have put you off the idea of staying here while I work on the boat."

  [108-109] "I'm not that feeble," she protested, and pushed down inside her the urge to get away without any delay. "And you know what's best."

  "It would be best for you, Eve, to travel by canoe. And there's food around here, and several wild fruit trees. We can stock up on supplies, and if it's any consolation I'll let you go bathing later on, when the sun cools down a bit."

  "Thanks," she said drily, every fly in the jungle and watched as he dragged the rebel into the bush, followed by that gauze of flies. He was gone about ten minutes, and when he returned the knife was back in his belt, and his black hair was damply tousled on his forehead. "I've stripped the body and buried the clothes," he said. "Later on the leopards will make short work of that carcase, and what's left the smaller animals will devour. Now let's see about our own lunch--d'you fancy some baked fish and yams roasted in the fire until their skins crackle?"

  Eve stared at him, still deeply shaken herself, but aware that for him the business of killing the enemy was an everyday matter, and her gaze followed him to the river, when he haunched down and cleared his hands in the water, resting there a moment while the sun dried them.

  "We'll head back to camp and get the fish basket and I'll bait it with that piece of pork fat out of the beans. We might be lucky enough to entice a catfish into the trap."

  "Catfish?" she echoed, pulling a face.

  "What were you expecting, blue mountain trout?" He swung the Breda on to his shoulder and they entered the dim tunnel of trees that led in the direction of the hut. "A catfish steak can be very tasty, and you'll [109-110] be asking the head waiter at the Ritz to put it on the menu when you get back to London."

  "London seems a million miles away," she murmured. "Only this seems real, and I can't seem to imagine any more what it's like to sit in a restaurant aimlessly eating a lot of high-priced food and talking a lot of flippant nonsense about life. I don't think I shall ever be the sort of person that I was--I don't want to be, not after this experience."

  "You say that now, Eve, but when you get back to civilisation you'll soon forget your jungle ordeal with a roughneck soldier of fortune."

  "I don't want to forget a single detail," she protested. "Nor do I think of you as a roughneck."

  "Come again, lady." The jeering note came back into his voice. "Don't go pinning a medal of good conduct on me because I saved your sweet neck. It's all in the line of duty."

  "You can be cynical about it, Wade, but you can't stop me from being grateful to you. You'll never know how frightened I was!"

  "Of course I know how you felt, having that brute creep up on you, but don't let the gratitude get all sugared up with hearts and flowers. We're alone together in a dicey situation and I can do without a girl your age getting the idea that it might be romantic to live dangerously with a man in the thousand-tree house."

  "The thousand-tree house?" she echoed.

  "The jungle, roofed over as it is by the tall trees laced together at their crowns to form almost a solid green ceiling. We aren't Tarzan and Jane, and don't you forget it. I've made no plans to live in the wilds with a high-society girl."

  [110-111] "What are your future plans, Wade?" Eve was determined not to let him ruffle her feathers. She was alive because of him, and the very way he talked was an indication that he had a code of honour that made him even more of a hero in her eyes. It made her heart beat fast, admitting to herself that he had come to mean so much to her . . . a man whose way of life and commitments to his family meant that he could never be more than her jungle protector. There was nothing beyond Tanga but a parting of their ways.

  "I never make plans," he told her. "A soldier doesn't go in for that kind of dicing with the gods. He just hopes there isn't a bullet w
ith his name on it."

  Eve felt a clutch of dismay deep inside her and wished she had the right to hold him fast and be the woman who come stop him from being a soldier.

  "Oh, but you must have a dream in your heart," she said. "Everyone has a longing for something that will give them peace or pleasure or a sense of security. I bet you'd love a farm! A place in the country, with a couple of horses in the stable, some pigs and cows, and a few crop acres. Go on, Wade, tell me I'm wrong."

  "Dreams are for the young," he rejoined, "and I mean to see that my son gets his dream. He exists because of me. He deserves to have a good life, and it's what I've fought for--killed for."

  Wade looked down suddenly at Eve and his eyes were steely and uncompromising as the knife in his belt. "I've waded in slaughter--you just keep remembering that and you'll soon forget any foolish notion that I could reap and sow and be a farmer."

  "I bet you'd love it," she argued.

  "Love?" His face as hard as nails. "What would a young thing like you know about love? What would a [111-112] mercenary have in common with all the tender delights of loving anything?"

  "There's your son--your wife," Eve said quietly. "Wouldn't they like to have you home all the time?"

  "What is this?" he demanded. "It's like some damn interview for True Confessions!"

  He marched ahead of her into the rondavel and found the fish basket and the piece of pork fat he had saved for bait. "You can stay here and do some tidying up," he said. "I shan't be too long, and this time keep your wits about you and keep the Breda close to hand. I don't think another insurgent can be hanging about or that gunshot would have flushed him out. I'll chop you off some of those big rubbery leaves and you can do a spot of sweeping out with them."

  "All right," she said, and couldn't stop herself from casting a nervous look around the compound.

  "To hell with it." His hand closed on her shoulder, his fingers pressing into her slight bones. "You can come with me to the river if you promise not to pester me with questions. My private life is none of your business, young lady, and if you'll bear that in mind, we'll get along."