Amazon Burning (A James Acton Thriller, #10)

by J. Robert Kennedy

  “Good to see you, Sergeant Major.”

  Dawson turned and saw the two professors approaching. Handshakes were exchanged, a hug received from Professor Palmer. “Glad to see you two made it in one piece.” Dawson motioned toward the bodies of the attacking force now being dragged into the open by the natives. “How many, you figure?”

  “About two dozen,” replied Acton, “in two separate forces.”

  “You got lucky.”

  Acton nodded. “Damned lucky. If it weren’t for the help of the natives, I don’t know if we’d have been able to hold back the second squad.”

  “And we have no idea how many more there are, and whether or not they’re on their way.”

  Acton seemed to pale slightly at his assessment. “You don’t think it’s over?”

  Dawson shook his head as he walked toward the bodies. “Two dozen men were just killed. Someone is going to want to know how. If I were them, and I had the resources available, I’d be sending a larger force to investigate. If they sent this many men, they were expecting to slaughter everyone. They are determined to keep whatever operation they have going secret.”

  “This is definitely not illegal loggers,” said Acton as Dawson knelt and peeled back the facemask on one of the dead men. “Chinese?”

  Dawson nodded. “Based on their equipment, I’d say yes. Whether or not they were Special Forces or not, I’d doubt it. A head on assault on the inlet was stupid. My guess is they’re PLA or former PLA with money behind them that gives them access to some good equipment.”

  “So we might be dealing with the Chinese military here?”

  Dawson shrugged. “Could be, but I doubt it. My guess is they wouldn’t risk the international incident if they were found out. My guess is a private Chinese company, tacitly or secretly supported by the Chinese government, and most likely the Venezuelans, has set up shop just across the border, doing something seriously illegal, and seriously profitable.”

  “So now what do we do?” asked Laura. “If we’re not safe because we know too much, how far will they go to pursue us?”

  “That’s the sixty-four-thousand dollar question, isn’t it? My unsanctioned job, since none of us is actually here, is to get you two, the Dean and Agent Reading to safety.”

  “What about Terrence and Jenny? And that Turnbull guy?” Acton paused. “In fact, what about Parker? Did you encounter the Brazilian rescue team?”

  Dawson shook his head. “Negative. We did find some debris that suggested at least one boat, maybe two, had been recently destroyed, but no bodies. They probably floated right by this place.”

  “Jesus,” murmured Acton. “They’ll stop at nothing.”

  “So what about my students and the environmentalists?” asked Laura, not letting the subject be changed.

  “We have to assume they’re being held at the GPS coordinates we have for the plane disappearing from radar. If we assume that’s their base of operations, I can only suggest one course of action that will have the highest chance of retrieving your people, and perhaps ending this entire situation.”

  “What’s that?” asked Acton.

  “Take the fight to them.”

  Illegal Rare Earth Element Strip Mine, Northern Amazon, Venezuela

  “I understand, comrade. And when can we expect reinforcements?”

  “Tomorrow, midday. We’ve sent five platoons, over one hundred men. That will bring you to company strength.”

  Dr. Chen was pleased with the number of men being sent, but the arrival time was problematic. It was dawn now and that meant perhaps thirty-six hours before their arrival, with an unknown sized force as close as a few hours away. “We have only a platoon left, along with a platoon of Venezuelans who are nearly useless. Should whoever eliminated our men decide to attack, we may not be able to hold.”

  “That is your problem to deal with. Should the mine fall, we will liberate it once the reinforcements arrive.” There was a pause on the other end of the secure line. “You need to hold until tomorrow. Do not fail us, Doctor.”

  Chen felt a shiver race up his spine. “I have no intention of failing, comrade.” The line went dead, the conversation over. He hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair, looking out the window at the morning sun as it began to rise, signaling the start to another day of mining.

  Only one had apparently survived the initial attack on the village, he having been left with the transport boat. He had radioed in, reporting heavy gunfire then the loss of contact with both squads. Then contact was lost with him as well.

  Two dozen highly trained soldiers of the People’s Liberation Army, dead.

  It had been the most difficult report of his career. Not because he had any feelings for these men or their families, but because it signified failure. If he were on the other end of the line, he’d already be arranging for his successor to arrive with the new troops, and then his execution.

  He wondered if his contact was as strict as he was? Chen knew that when the day came for him to occupy such a position, he wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate someone like himself who had failed so miserably in dealing with this problem.

  And now the question was how to deal with the problem. He didn’t have the men to go on the offensive again, so he’d have to take a defensive posture until the reinforcements arrived. He found it almost impossible to believe that their opponents would stage an attack on the mine. First they’d have to find it, then get here and fight unknown numbers. It would be suicide with what their numbers were. Half a dozen private security, a few academics and an ex-police officer. He also knew the natives wouldn’t come near the place, too terrified thanks to the intimidation tactics he had his teams employing.

  This place was cursed, anyone who dared approach never to return.

  But somehow this small ragtag group had managed to wipe out two dozen of his country’s best. Obviously they had somehow known they were coming and laid a trap. That was the only way they could have beaten such overwhelming odds.

  But this time things would be different. This was his territory. They had heavy weapons and defensive positions surrounding the mine and the command area in the event the natives did attempt an uprising. Hardened machine gun nests worked equally well against ex-Special Air Services men as they did restless natives.

  And no matter what happened, victory would be assured when a company sized group of reinforcements arrived.

  We just need to hold for less than 36 hours.

  His only concerns now were the Western hostages. He snapped his fingers and his assistant leapt into his office.

  “Get me Ling.”

  Terrence Mitchell sat on a cot holding Jenny. Their cell was a decent size for two inmates, bunk beds against one wall, a small sink and toilet at the rear wall, the opposing wall had a barred window to the outside with an awning that let no direct sunlight in, and the front wall was merely bars providing no privacy.

  It was, though, a good size for two.

  But not for the seven it now contained. Besides them and Turnbull, it also contained the other four environmentalists who had been captured the previous week. They had told of a pretty much solitary existence since then. They were fed regularly, allowed to bathe in a communal shower, and given fresh clothes and bed linens twice a week. They slept in shifts of two, which now included two more shifts due to the new arrivals.

  No one dared complain.

  It was the Mitchells’ turn on the beds, but neither could sleep, both too frightened. Mitchell was still trembling, still not believing what was going on. “What do you think they’ll do to us?”

  John Tinmouth, the leader of the PAN expedition shrugged. “I don’t know, but the fact they haven’t put us to work in the mines like they have the natives means they have some other purpose in mind.”

  “What kind of mine is it?” asked Jenny. “Gold? Silver? It would have to be pretty valuable to go to all this trouble.”

  Tinmouth laughed. “If it were just gold or silver, nobody woul
d bother. No, this is definitely a rare earth element mine of some type. The rarer it is, the more its worth. Why do you think rappers wear platinum now? It’s worth more than gold per ounce. And that’s barely classified as one of the rare elements. And it’s not just the price, it’s the rare part. Most rare earth elements were deposited here by asteroid and meteor impacts over billions of years. Once we run out, we’re out. We’ll need to find alternatives or go to outer space to find it. Right now it’s much cheaper to find it here, environmental laws be damned.” His head drooped between his knees as he pulled at his hair in frustration. “This is one of the worst I’ve ever seen though. And it makes me wonder how many more are out there.”

  As the morning light began to get brighter, the sounds of activity outside could be heard as the mine began operations for the day, the cries and wails of the terrified natives heartbreaking, tears rolling down many of the cheeks in the room.

  “We have to stop this.”

  Heads bobbed in agreement to Mitchell’s statement. “But how?” asked Tinmouth. “We’re locked up in here, and the only times were allowed out they have guns trained on us.”

  Mitchell nodded toward the other side of the gate. “They don’t seem to be watching us.”

  “There’s a camera on the wall aimed directly at us.”

  Mitchell leaned forward and frowned as the camera came into view. “Didn’t see that.” He looked about. “Let’s assume the camera wasn’t there. What would—what could—we do to get ourselves out?”

  “Pick the lock?” suggested Jenny.

  “Dig our way out?” suggested another man named Lincoln.

  Jenny pointed to the window. “File away the bars?”

  Somebody chuckled from the other side of the cell door, the sound of slowly clapping hands as they approached reverberating through their cell. Mitchell felt Jenny grip his arm tighter as his own heart began to race.

  “Very amusing,” said a voice before the man it belonged to came into view. He was Chinese, very white, and as tall as any of the men in the room. His Asian features seemed muted somehow, and he had no trace of an accent.

  Could he be half-Caucasian?

  “My name is Steven Ling. For those of you wondering, yes, I am half-American—on my mother’s side. But when the country of my grandparents needed my help, I was happy to oblige. You see, my old home, the United States, frowned upon my particular talent. But my new home, China, the home of my ancestors, does not let little things like international law and the Geneva Convention get in the way of what is best for the people.”

  Mitchell gulped. He must be some sort of torturer! He resisted the urge to look at Jenny, not wanting to give any indication of a bond between them that could be used against him. Then again, the circulation-killing grip she had on his left arm was probably giving away their connection.

  And they seemed to know exactly who they were, regardless.

  Probably courtesy of the Chinese CIA, whatever they’re called.

  “And today, what’s best for the people of China is to make this little mess you’ve created, go away. I will not suggest you cooperate. I actually encourage you not to, otherwise my job is too easy, and I love my job, but only when it’s difficult.

  “Please don’t cooperate, please resist. You will make my day.” Half a smile crept on his face. He pointed to Turnbull. “Mr. Robert Turnbull. Please step forward. You will be first.”

  Turnbull didn’t budge, his skin so pale he appeared as if he might faint. Ling motioned to the camera and the cell unlocked.

  That settles the question of whether or not it works.

  Ling stepped inside, no apparent concerns over the fact he was outnumbered seven to one. He stopped in front of Turnbull, Ling’s boots so shiny they reflected the pale grayness of the terrified prisoner.

  “You will rise.”

  The voice wasn’t any louder than normal, but it was firm. It wasn’t a request, nor a barked order. It was merely a statement of fact. Turnbull shifted slightly, then rose, his knees a little wobbly. Jenny reached up and steadied him with a hand on his back. It startled the poor bastard as he trembled more noticeably.

  “Very good. Follow me without delay.”

  Ling exited the cell then turned right. Turnbull followed as if in a trance, not looking at anyone until he turned and made eye contact with Mitchell. Mitchell felt himself waver, never having seen true fear before in his life. It was unlike anything he had ever pictured, Hollywood never having done it justice before.

  “Have a seat.”

  “Oh no!” whispered Jenny as she buried her head in Mitchell’s chest. Mitchell turned away from the cell door as it closed, its open iron bars doing nothing to block the sounds from the very next cell. And Mitchell knew they would be forced to listen to whatever was done to their poor companion.

  “We shall now begin.”

  A blood curdling scream erupted from around the corner. Without being able to see what was causing Turnbull so much pain, Mitchell’s imagination went wild, conjuring the most horrifying images the movies had ever suggested to him one human may be capable of doing to another.

  But he knew it must be far worse, as he had never heard such a scream of terror or pain from any living creature before.

  And he started to cry, as they all did, realizing one of them would be next.

  TikTik held Tuk’s Mother tight as they all looked up at the strange lodges where their captors seemed to dwell. A scream of horror and pain, so intense it was released unashamedly, had them all scared, those in the belly of the beast with her looking at each other, wondering, she knew, if that might be their fate too some day. She looked at Mother but there was nothing there, no fear, no life. Just resignation that her life was over. TikTik placed a gentle kiss on Mother’s cheek, patting the other, then held her even tighter, trying to provide some sense of humanity in the horrifying reality they now found themselves in.

  Their night had been thankfully uneventful, though there had been little joy. They were kept behind a strange wall made of incredibly strong spider webbing. They had been shown how to get water from a magical hollowed out log where you turned a round knot on it and water came out. Turn the knot the other way, the water stopped. There were several of them at one end of where they were being held. Food had been waiting for them, strange looking food she had never experienced before, but it was warm and filling, and she was grateful. They each had what to her felt like the most comfortable bed she had ever slept on, though their quarters were more cramped than the lodge, and cover from the elements was provided by a strange large, shiny thin blanket that covered the entire area overtop the spider webbing.

  Once inside, they had been left alone and were free to move around. The latrine facilities were extremely odd, some sort of raised hole that you sat on. One of the other women, who didn’t even speak a language she understood, had demonstrated for her. It had been odd but not having to burry your waste afterward quite nice.

  She had taken care of Mother, getting her food and water, then shown her too how to use the latrine, then those of Tuk’s tribe were shown an area of beds that the others indicated were for them.

  The most wondrous part of the experience however had been the next morning when they were shown to an area with a hard floor and a long log that stretched from one end to the other that could produce rain. Everyone was given this strange white ball and as she watched, she was amazed to see it produced a cleaning product like she was able to make with some effort from some of the plants from the forest, but nothing like this.

  It smelled incredible.

  She found it the first pleasurable experience since she had arrived, bathing herself like she never had before, but as she did, her tribe’s colors washed away, leaving her skin completely bare, her face devoid of the markings identifying her family.

  It had devastated her when it appeared there would be no way for her to reapply the mud mixture used to give her the reddish tint she was so used to seeing. And seeing
all the others, their naked bodies truly naked, was something she hadn’t experienced since she was a child playing in the river, before the colorings were applied after the Womanhood Ceremony.

  The final humiliation, as she now thought of it, was to be given coverings like their captors wore. Strange skins that covered them from their necks to their ankles, then a pair of skins with hard bottoms for their feet. After her short stint in the rocks yesterday without these coverings, she realized it might just be a good thing, the rocks sharp, many of her people already complaining of cut feet.

  But why today, and not yesterday? Why let us injure ourselves then?

  Perhaps it was to show them why they needed these coverings.

  An act of kindness?

  That she doubted. She could tell by the way they were treated that their captors had no respect for them though intended to keep them strong and healthy if possible. They obviously wanted them to work for them, to slave away among their rocks.

  For a very long time.

  Her chest tightened and she placed her head on Mother’s shoulder and began to cry quietly, tears rolling down her bare cheeks. She felt Mother’s hand touch her face, her thumb gently wiping away the tears.

  “Don’t worry, little one. My son will save us.”

  Oh, if only that were true!

  Barasana Village on the Rio Negro, Northern Amazon, Brazil

  “You take care of yourself now,” Acton said, shaking Milton’s hand. He knew his friend was in pain when he didn’t get out of his chair for their customary thumping hug. “Take it easy and get that back looked at. Laura has arranged for her plane to take you home as soon as you arrive.”

  Milton shook his head. “No, that’s a waste of money. I can wait for the rest of you.”

  Acton pointed his finger at him. “Don’t be stupid. You know you’ve overextended yourself. Get your ass on that plane, get home, and rest up. We’ll see you as soon as we’re done here. Understood?”