Man of Fire

by Margaret Rome

  'I assume from my notes, here,' he stressed hardly, 'that you are Señorita Christina Donnelly.' A flat statement, not a question, but she answered him.

  'You assume correctly, señor.'

  His eyes narrowed. She would not allow herself to tremble as he took in everything about her. Her mask of indifference seemed to have set on her face by the time he had finished his scrutiny and she was alarmed to see a frown of puzzlement replace his anger.

  'You are Christina Donnelly, the famous botanist?' he queried tightly.

  She did not actually lie. 'Is that so hard to accept, señor?' she parried with a fast beating heart.

  Slowly, he deliberated aloud, 'I have heard many times of Christina Donnelly's worth on expeditions and I've looked forward to the time when our paths should meet. None of the things I've heard ever led me to believe that she was either arrogant or ... stupid!' he stressed.

  Tina's mouth opened to protest, but he forestalled her. 'Of the many experienced explorers it has been my privilege to share journeys with, not one of them, up until now, has displayed such an indifference to the dangers involved in such work as ours. Either you are a remarkably brave woman, Señorita Donnelly, or a criminally insensitive one! ... However, the next few weeks will supply the answer to those questions. I sincerely hope that when this trip is over my opinion of you will be as great as it was before I actually met you!'

  Tina's leaden heart attempted to soar at this confirmation of his acceptance of her, but after one abortive effort it slumped back, defeated by the weight of contempt in his words. She had won, but it was an empty victory. She had told no actual lies - unless one counted lies of omission - and the arguments and questioning she had been dreading were non-existent; her aunt's name and reputation were all the reference she needed. But she had a role to play, and there was no sense in jeopardizing her victory by appearing too easily squashed. Tilting her chin even higher, she answered his cold displeased look with a cool stare and a nonchalant shrug.

  'Your opinion of me hardly matters, señor, I'll survive without your indulgence. But, just for the record,' she began walking towards the door and paused with her hand on the knob, 'you will also be on trial, Caramuru! There is more than one member of this expedition eager to see your title confirmed. Perhaps at the end of this trip we shall both have to revise our thinking!'

  She fled before his swift, fiery imprecation became completely audible.

  3

  TINA'S fists clenched into a tight bunch when she felt the first tremor from the hovercraft's highly powered engine pulsate through the ship. The moment before lift-off was tense with suspense. Would it lift sufficiently? Would it handle satisfactorily, and would the vast amount of stores and equipment - not to mention the bewildering variety of other items such as snake serums, water purifiers, fish hooks, machetes, guns, ammunition, insect repellants and trinkets for the Indians - prove too heavy a burden for the giant black froglike craft that was to be their home for the next four weeks? She kept her eyes glued to the window as the engine thundered into maximum power and she felt the craft lift on a giant cushion of air and then slide from the slipway into the water surrounded by a massive cloud of spray. Startled by the volume of noise, flocks of birds rose screeching into the air and circled angrily around them as they headed noisily up the wide black river. Relief ripped through the men when Joseph Rogers gave an exultant thumbs-up sign from the control room and an excited congratulatory babble broke out as the hovercraft settled steadily on course for the Casiquiare territory of the upper Orinoco.

  It was stifling hot inside the hovercraft. Every available space was packed with equipment and each of them had been grudgingly allocated one small space in which to work on their particular projects. Now that she was actually on her way, Tina knew that work would be her only salvation. Once she had gathered up her first specimens she would bury herself in research in a bid to forget the terrors that abounded in the vast acres of jungle through which they were to travel. She battled to control the tight knot of fear that gripped her inside, but sweat beaded her brow as she watched the haven that was Manaus fading slowly out of sight. Her only consolation was the fact that she was actually aboard. Anxiety had gnawed at her mind ever since she had left Ramon Vegas earlier that morning. When she had reached her room the crumpled pieces of paper that littered the floor had reminded her of her aunt's letter. Her hand had automatically gone to the pocket where she had thrust it before going downstairs to the meeting - only to find it empty. Her first dread had been that Ramon Vegas might have found it lying, perhaps, on the floor by the chair where she had sat. She had rushed back downstairs, but the room had been empty and after a fruitless search she had had to conclude that someone must have found it - but who? One thing was now confirmed, it could not have been Ramon Vegas, because he would have immediately confronted her with the question of why a letter with the hotel's name blazoned across the back of the envelope should be addressed to herself at an address in London.

  Inez Garcia's voice rose above the noise of the engine. 'Miss Donnelly, are you deaf? I've asked you the same question three times already!'

  Tina jerked to attention. 'I'm sorry, what is it you want to know?'

  'I'm compiling a separate dossier for each member of the expedition and I need some information from you. You know, of course, that I am a doctor ...'

  Tina nodded. Doña Inez did not look much like a doctor. She was wearing a white nylon shirt with a very flattering collar and her pale green slacks were clasped with a wide brass-studded leather belt that made her waist look extremely slender. It made her own outfit of khaki drill look drab in the extreme, but she felt a wicked satisfaction at the thought of the discomfort in store for Doña Inez when she discovered that nylon blouses, although fashionable, stuck like a second skin after a couple of hours of humid heat and that the wide leather belt would make its presence felt in no uncertain manner once its friction became noticeable. But at that moment the doctor, as she herself was fully aware, looked charming. She settled herself in the seat next to Tina and questioned crisply, 'Injections...?'

  'Seven,' Tina answered succinctly, without bothering to enumerate them.

  Dona Inez ticked her list. 'What personal medical aids are you carrying?'

  'Pocket snake-bite kit complete with poison suction cups and a miniature inch-long knife,' Tina ticked them off on her fingers, 'insect repellants, anti-malaria and vitamin pills and salt tablets,' she concluded.

  The doctor's cold stare then became curious. 'And your age is... ?' Her calculating eyes sized up Tina and noted the pink tinge that coloured her beautifully matt skin. Thinking furiously, Tina thrust out the lie: 'Twenty-six!'

  The señora's eyebrows rose with disbelief and, although she did not contradict, Tina knew she did not believe her. Her colour deepened when the señora flicked her a sardonic look and answered with her tongue in her cheek, 'What a coincidence, we are both the same age.' Without waiting for a comment, she went on condescendingly, 'Just one more thing. What do I put down as your occupation - plant-hunter?'

  Tina froze at the sarcasm in her voice. Plant-hunter was a term often used to describe botanists, but it was not a derogatory expression, more an admiring one: Doña Inez's emphasis had been anything but admiring. Swift to spring to the defence of the many courageous members of her profession, Tina retorted hotly.

  'Botanists have contributed much to the world in the way of healing, señora. If it were not for past members of my profession you doctors would still be bleeding sufferers white in abortive efforts to cure them of malaria!'

  Fired with indignation, she charged the amused doctor, 'Who was it who discovered that green leaves from spinach or alfalfa, could be used to prepare vitamin K which helps blood coagulation and so stops haemorrhage - was he a doctor? No, he was a plant-hunter! Who hunted the seeds, grew the plantations and sweated over large-scale treatments and tests to discover kalaw oil which cures leprosy? Was he a doctor? No, again he was a plant-hunter. Rubber
! Rope! Wax! Curare! All these represent months out of a plant-hunter's life, lonely weeks along jungle-bordered rivers and rough stony paths, cold foggy mornings and bleak dark nights, ravenous animals and poisonous reptiles ...'

  She broke off as she caught sight of the ring of amazed faces surrounding her. Her spirited attack, brought on by the señora's sneering words, had drawn towards her an audience of puzzled men who, judging from their expressions, were in complete sympathy with Inez Garcia who was very cleverly managing to portray a mixture of embarrassment and bewilderment. Feeling awkward and foolish, Tina turned away, but she tensed when she heard Ramon Vegas's controlled voice disperse the watching men. Amid a crowd of sympathizers, the señora walked to the far end of the ship, leaving Tina alone with him. She countered his hard look with a glare, but did not speak when he sat down next to her.

  'Señorita Donnelly,' his tone concealed an exercise in iron control, 'why do you find it necessary to upset everyone with whom you come into contact?'

  Such glaring injustice could not be ignored. Almost incoherent with rage, Tina protested, 'But I don't!'

  'Forgive me,' he waved an imperious hand, 'but I can tell by the way the men avoid your company that your manner towards them has been standoffish and also, if the example I've just witnessed is anything to go by, arrogant and overbearing. I have a great respect for members of your profession and for the reputation which you yourself have built up, but I want you to understand this,' he paused and leant forward so that his keen blue eyes were on level with hers, 'a successful expedition depends as much upon its members' ability to get on with one another as it does upon detailed planning and expert guidance. I have covered every eventuality pertaining to those last two points, but it now seems I must take you to task in order to ensure a harmonious atmosphere throughout the trip. You will please see to it, Señorita Donnelly,' he crisped, 'that in future you guard your rather stringent tongue and also - even though you might find it a strain - that your -approach to the other members of the party is a little more pleasant!'

  He leant over her, menacingly close, his jaw set at a determined angle, and waited for her reply. Dormant power seethed beneath the rippling biceps showing taut through the thin drill of his bush shirt, and slumbering anger showed in his eyes; eyes the same deep blue as the tawny-coated puma that was at its most dangerous when roused.

  She shrank back from the sheer primitive aura that surrounded him and struggled to free her vocal chords from their silencing knot. The sides of the hovercraft were closing in on her. Outside she could see nothing but a wall of jungle and winding waterways, but she had felt partly secure in the knowledge that inside, at least, she was amply protected. But now, with Ramon Vegas' intimidating shadow hovering over her, she felt the threat of the impending jungle ordeal had already begun. She pressed her slim form into the corner of her seat and met his look with wide green eyes filled with fear. At the sight of her withdrawal, he gave a muttered exclamation and put a brown, lean-fingered hand over her trembling one. 'What is wrong, señorita?' he asked sharply. 'What distresses you?'

  Colour flooded her face. She snatched her hand from under his and forced back her practised look of disdain. 'I hate being mauled, señor, please don't touch me!'

  Instantly he drew back. With blazing blue scorn he stood looking angrily down at her. 'Madre de Dios!' he almost hissed. 'I would not have thought it possible that such a beautiful exterior could hide such cold venom! You amaze me, señorita.' She thought then that he would leave her, but after a second's brooding silence she was dismayed to discover that he had decided to try again. With marked restraint, he tried to humour her. 'Señorita? Grudgingly, she answered his inquiring tone with a quick look, and satisfied that he held her attention, he carried on, 'We are, I must admit, a crowd of people with immensely diverse interests and inclinations. It will be very easy - if we are not prepared - for frictions and tensions to develop within such a mixed group as ours, don't you agree?'

  When she did not respond, his voice hardened. 'Already, there is a strong bond of companionship growing between the members of the team; everyone is prepared to share in the strenuous labours involved in setting up camp and catering for overnight stops. Will you give me your promise that you will try to subdue your individualism enough to allow this spirit of companionship to flourish? It is something we will all have to do,' his voice rasped with sudden exasperation, 'if we are not to get on each other's nerves with devastating effect!'

  He was telling her to fraternize; to mix, and this was something she dared not do. Brusquely impertinent, she jerked out, 'Señor, I came on this expedition to work, not to play Happy Families. I'll do my share of the chores, of course, but please don't ask me to socialize. I'll be far too busy !'

  His blue eyes flared. 'Very well!' he bit out, his patience exhausted. 'Tonight, when we break camp, you will be drafted for kitchen duties. You will prepare the meal, serve it, and wash up the pots after it. If you are wise, you will endeavour to finish before ten o'clock as you will be expected to rise at five tomorrow morning to prepare breakfast! Is that understood?'

  She inclined her head in chilly acknowledgment and he turned sharply on his heel and walked away. A sudden splurge of tears blinded her. She jerked her head towards the window and blinked them rapidly away, but they rolled down her cheeks with hot stinging urgency. Her bag was on the floor, and as she leant over it, rummaging for a handkerchief, she heard Theo Branston's hated voice directly above her. Cornered, she had no option but to try to disperse the offending tears with the back of her hand before answering him. She kept her head averted and pretended an interest in the passing scenery, but she had to face him when, after dropping down in the seat beside her, he asked with his usual sneer, 'Did the big chief give you a bad time?'

  Hating the man, she flashed, 'No, why should he?'

  Theo's thick lips broadened into a wide grin and he settled himself more comfortably and prepared to light a cigarette. 'Because you dared to tear a strip off his lady love, of course. Didn't you know Doña Inez is a widow and that the señor and she are very close friends; such close friends it's rumoured that they're to be married after this trip?'

  'I'm not interested in gossip,' Tina retorted coldly, 'and if that's all you came to tell me, Mr. Branston, I'll have to ask you to excuse me. I have some notes to write up.'

  She reached for a pile of papers and began to rustle through them, but he made no move to go. Instead, he settled himself lower in his seat and returned her indignant look with complacency.

  'D'you know something, Tina?' She started at the familiarity of her name on his lips. 'You interest me. Yes, sir, you sure do!'

  Quite obviously he was waiting for a reaction from her, so she supplied it by gathering up her papers and making a move to pass him. His long legs blocked her path, so she asked him frostily, 'Excuse me, please, I want to pass.'

  His smile faded and his narrowed eyes widened with hard intent. 'Sit down again, honey,' he demanded, 'we've a lot of talking to do.'

  Tina refused with asperity. 'Certainly not, Mr. Branston, your presence offends me! I've no intention of suffering it a moment longer, so will you let me pass or shall I call for the assistance of one of the crew?'

  An ugly red stained his face and his mouth formed a frightening twist. Suddenly he reached into an inner pocket and withdrew an envelope which he waved under her nose. Stricken, she slowly sat down again, her heart pounding slowly and sickeningly. There was no mistaking her own round handwriting on the envelope he was holding; Theo Branston had found her aunt's letter.

  'Where did you get it?' she asked through dry lips. 'It fell from your pocket, honey,' he drawled, 'this morning, after the meeting. I picked it up to return it to you, but... waal, I guess curiosity was too much for me. I took a peek at the name and address and naturally I began to wonder. Wouldn't you, if you'd been in my shoes?'

  'What's so strange about my aunt having the same name as myself, Mr. Branston?' she tried to bluff.


  'Nothin', honey,' he countered casually. 'But that isn't all of the mystery, is it?'

  'Mystery? What mystery?' Tina's face was a guilty crimson. He laughed unpleasantly and put the letter back into his pocket, then gave his jacket a satisfied pat before answering.

  'It's like this, Tina sweetie. Ramon Vegas isn't the only one who's heard of Christina Donnelly, the famous botanist-explorer. I've been making some inquiries and I now know that the real Miss Donnelly is nearer forty than twenty. Oh, don't think I didn't notice your efforts to make yourself look older before meeting the señor,' he grinned his amusement, 'but not even a new hairstyle could fool a man into thinking you much more than a teenager. So come on, honey, let's have the whole story. I promise your secret will be safe with me.'

  She slumped back in her seat. She did not trust him, and the confident way he was sprinkling his conversation with endearments made her feel slightly sick. But what alternative had she but to confide in him? She did not doubt that he would use her confidences to his own advantage, but that was a chance she would have to take; they were still too near to Manaus to risk allowing him to share his suspicions with Ramon Vegas. She was beaten - and she could tell from the look of triumph on Theo Branston's face that he knew it. She gave a hopeless shrug, and stated flatly,