FRANK DIDN’T BUDGE, for fear of my dad’s knife at his throat. His lips barely moved as he spoke. “Of course they know you’re here. Been getting calls about you since the moment you arrived. But it’s not me fault! You can blame yourself for that, and the bloody tracker you’ve been carrying around with you.”
“He’s right,” I said. “According to the chat room, the signal appeared shortly before we landed.”
“When I flicked on the plane’s GPS to confirm our location. So the tracker, wherever it is, must’ve grabbed on to the sat signal.”
“But what tracker? And who planted it?”
Dad shook his head. His eyes went flat in a way that suggested he knew who’d done it. “It doesn’t matter.” He turned his attention back to Frank. “And you were going to give them my head, is that it? Who’s coming? How many are there? How long before the first team arrives?”
“Well, uh—”
“How long!” The blade broke through a fold of skin on Frank’s thick neck, and a rivulet of blood slinked down his chest. But instead of grimacing, Frank looked past him and sneered.
“Dad!”
Trumak had appeared in the room like a wraith from the shadows. His bow was drawn fully back, and the long arrow was pointed at my chest. He stood like a statue, the bow unwavering, the tips of his two fingers around the string the only thing separating my life from death.
“I wouldn’t test him,” Frank said. “His tribe used to lean toward cannibalism, and he’s eyeing you like a fifty-quid steak from a Covent Garden restaurant. Now hand over the knife, and drop the gun, or your boy dies.”
Dad stared at Trumak, and I knew his mind was speeding through options. The mini’s energy expanded to fill the room. Dad could do amazing things by tapping into it, but it took only a second for him to realize that preventing Trumak’s fingers from releasing the string wasn’t one of them. He stepped back slowly. “Take it easy,” he said, handing Frank the knife. He withdrew his pistol with two fingers and set it on the ground. He placed both hands in the air.
Frank brandished the knife like a pirate with a saber, slicing the air in a figure X. “This’ll work just fine for the video.” Using the thumb of his free hand, he wiped at the gash on his neck, then tasted the blood. “Kind of ironic that it’ll be your neck and not mine, don’t you think?”
Dad remained silent, his eyes on Trumak.
“Waiting for an opening, eh?” Frank asked. “I wouldn’t count on one.” After he uttered an unintelligible phrase, Trumak adjusted his aim, loosed the arrow, and drew a second one—this time aimed at my dad. He did it so fast, I barely had time to cry out from the sting on my earlobe where the first arrow nicked it. I cupped the wound with my hand and it became slick with blood. It wasn’t a bad cut. The tip had only grazed me, and a part of me wondered if that was just dumb luck or if Trumak’s aim was that good.
“Blood for blood,” Frank said, licking his thumb.
I wished then I knew how to use the mini’s energy like Dad did, so I could go after Trumak like a rampaging badger. Then again, my free hand was still resting on the keyboard. I settled for a more strategic way of helping, and made a quick entry while all the attention was on Dad.
Dad’s fists were clenched. He looked at me, but instead of seeing fear for my safety in his eyes, I saw confidence. I realized Trumak’s mistake. Dad had clocked the man’s speed and now knew how to compensate for it. “So is that your plan, Frank?” Dad asked. “To cut off my head on video so you can collect the bounty? Then sell my son?”
“That pretty much spells it out. Originally, once I realized who you were, I was more interested in handing you over alive. There’s a tidy sum that comes along with that, I’ll tell ya. But nooo, every bloody merc within striking distance will be here soon, thanks to some bastard who decided to publicize the link to the tracker you’re carrying. I imagine every single one of those bounty hunters would just as soon kill me if it meant they could grab you for themselves. So I’ll simply use your blade to do the honors before they arrive. Once it’s posted, me claim for the reward will be irrefutable.” He pointed at me. “As for your boy there, the mercs all asked about him but I played dumb. Swore on me mum’s grave you were alone. Of course if the nasty buggers knew I’d lied to ’em, they’d likely chop me into smaller pieces than I’m going to chop you. But no worries on that front, because Trumak here will haul your boy into the forest so nobody will be the wiser. Then once the dust settles, and all the bloodsucking interlopers clear out, we’ll work on handing him over to the highest bidder. Then I can wash me hands of the both of you, and use the money for a new face and a new identity of me own. You two are me ticket out of this hellhole.”
“You’re a son of a bitch, aren’t you, Frank? Been doing this sort of thing awhile, haven’t you? Maybe even as far back as when you first landed here with the treasure-hunting ‘young pups’ who mysteriously disappeared?”
Frank frowned. “You’re a cheeky bastard. But I guess there’s no harm in confirming the obvious to a dead man. They were spoiled rotten little runts, and you know what they gave me for the prize I found for them? Five percent. I did all the work, found a chest of gold they had no chance of locating without me, and all I got was five percent? It wasn’t right. So I offed ’em. So what? Bloody ingrates deserved it. Almost got nicked for it, too. Their father had money. Lots of it. And when he found out the coppers back home had the goods on me for an armed robbery back in London, he locked me in his sights. He came sniffin’ around with an entourage of tough boys, formal warrants, and the authorities from Rio. But I got word they were coming.” He smiled. “That’s why I married Mandu.”
“You’re really married?”
“Yep, and I showed ’em the docs to prove it. And since Brazilian extradition laws specifically exclude indigenous people and their families for all except murder—for which they had no proof at all—they couldn’t touch me. Of course, I couldn’t very well leave the country after that, not with the old man’s agents keeping an eye out, not to mention the Interpol warrant in the system for the robbery conviction. Plus, would you believe the old man offered a five-million-pound reward for anyone who could offer information leading to my conviction for killing his kids? Sad chance of that. The bodies have long since been digested by the jungle. But that wouldn’t keep some greedy wanker from trying to fabricate some proof. So I waited. Not months, but years. And finally the old goat died, and I was ready to get the hell out of this ruddy place. But even in death the bleedin’ old man had it in for me. He’d left a codicil in his will to make sure the reward would stand after he passed. Set the money aside in a trust, he did, praying I’d end up in a cold cell or worse. So I waited some more, and by the time I figured the risk was finally low enough to chance it, the bloody money from the chest had run out.
“I’ve been living ever since off what I make selling the belongings of all the fools like you who come searching for riches in the Lost City. Offin’ ’em is easy enough with Trumak’s help, and there’s never a body to be found to hint at foul play. It’s always blamed on the wilds of the rainforest, which serves to fuel the mysterious stories of the jungle that houses a city of gold. So folks keep coming. It keeps the bills paid, so to speak, and I’ve been able to save a tidy sum beyond that. But it’s hardly enough to start a new life that’ll allow me to live in the lap of luxury I so deserve. So I’ve been stuck here.” He grinned. “Until now.”
I waited for Dad to make his move. Trumak hadn’t taken his eyes off him.
Frank checked his watch. “The mercs will start arriving in less than an hour and a half and we’ve got some work to do before they get here. But first, hand it over.”
“Hand what over?”
“Don’t play daft with me, Jake Bronson. I know all about you and that alien artifact you stole.” He pointed at my dad’s bulging cargo pocket. “Hand it over, or should I have Trumak here whittle a bit more off your son?”
Dad looked my way. I suspected what was about to happen, so I casually depressed the ESCAPE key to undo what I’d activated earlier. Dad pulled out the mini. Frank’s eyes gleamed. My dad’s nostrils flared as he drew in the energy.
And then he was a blur.
It was like watching an action video at triple speed: Dad feinted to one side and Trumak loosed the arrow. Dad dodged it and charged the smaller man with enough force to lift him from his feet and bash his head against a filing cabinet. Trumak folded to the floor as Dad pivoted to rush Frank. Frank swung wildly with the knife. Dad struck the big man’s forearm aside, grabbed his wrist, and used a vicious double-handed counter twist to wrench Frank’s arm and send him crashing to the floor. The knife toppled free. Dad scooped it up and stalked forward with murder in his eyes. Frank clutched his shoulder. His face was stretched wide in pain and fear as he scooted backward.
“Please,” Frank pleaded. When his back hit the wall, he squeaked.
Dad didn’t slow. As he crouched down and cocked his arm back for a killing thrust, Frank’s skin drained of color.
“Wait!” I said.
Dad hesitated, but his body trembled from the effort of holding back.
“Dad, don’t do it. I know he deserves to die, but you can’t be the one to do it.”
His voice was low. “If not me, then who?”
“The mercs.” I pointed at the screen. “I used his Skype camera to live-stream everything he said. I made sure the feed was connected to all six of the teams heading this way. Remember what he said about them chopping him into little pieces if they found out he lied to them? They saw it all. We’ll be gone before they arrive and they’ll be furious about it. Frank will get the blame.”
“That’s not good enough. Just turn away.”
“No, I won’t.” I was surprised at how important this had suddenly become to me. I knew he’d killed before. So had I. But a part of each of us had died because of it, and now that we were about to confront whoever, or whatever, was calling us into the jungle, it felt wrong. Very wrong. As if we were disrespecting something greater than us all. Self-defense was one thing, but this was murder, wasn’t it? I wasn’t certain of anything anymore, but something told me I had to stop him despite the threat to us.
Dad gnashed his teeth—and didn’t lower the knife. I glanced at Trumak. His breathing was steady but he was out cold. It gave me an idea. “Hold on, Dad. Please.”
I moved to Trumak’s body and retrieved the three green tranquilizer darts from the sheaf on his back. I plunged the first one deep into Trumak’s neck. His body twitched once, but that was it. He was still breathing.
I approached Frank cautiously. The big man’s eyes darted from me to Dad and back again. I felt a flash of anger from him, but he didn’t budge an inch when I jabbed the two remaining darts into his thigh. He flinched, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he teetered unconscious to the side.
“That will keep them out until long after the mercenaries arrive. Let them handle it.”
Dad’s rage settled a little. I could tell he still wasn’t sold on my idea, but he sheathed the knife and picked up his pistol. “Let’s go.”
“Hang on. One last thing.” I retrieved a thumb drive from the computer. “I recorded it all, including Frank’s confession about the couple he killed.”
Dad shrugged. He was still mad, and I raced to catch up as he stormed back up to our room. Once there, he rifled through his backpack until he found the tracker hidden in the lining. He smashed it with the heel of his boot.
***
Ten minutes later Dad and I were standing in Mandu’s hut with our gear strapped to our backs. She was seated on a floor cushion with her leg propped up. Her ankle was red and badly swollen. She grimaced as she massaged a salve into it. “Frank stomped on it. It was his way of making sure I wouldn’t guide you to your destination.”
“The bastard,” Dad said. I could imagine he regretted even more that he hadn’t killed the man. A small part of me did, too, though I felt guilty about it so I shoved the emotion into a drawer.
“He’s not a good man,” Mandu said. “And Trumak’s tribe are killers. They don’t live amongst us, and several of our young girls have gone missing because of them.”
“And Frank is a friend to them? Why on Earth would you stay with a man like that?” Dad blurted out the words probably louder than he intended, and Mandu clenched her jaw. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, it’s not my business.”
She looked away. “Perhaps not, but I’ll tell you anyway. There’s no such thing as divorce in our culture. When a woman is wed to a man, whether it be for love, or for the sake of the tribe, she is his for life. It’s the way it is, and the way it has always been. Yes, it has been a sacrifice in many ways, but my tribe, and those from the other tribes who have joined us here, have benefited because of it. That is my reward. As is my daughter, Lucy, who wouldn’t be here otherwise. Being Frank’s wife is my lot in life.”
“What if he was dead?” Dad asked.
She stopped rubbing her foot and stared at him. “You must not kill him.”
“Why not? He deserves it.”
“Perhaps. But if he dies, we lose the means to support ourselves. And we don’t have the money needed to move the tribes elsewhere.”
Dad and I exchanged a glance. Neither of us had considered that. We may not have killed Frank, but we set him up so that the mercs likely would, and when Frank was gone, Mandu and her people would be lost.
Dad frowned. “What if you had five million pounds? That’s over six million dollars. Would that be enough?”
“Yes, of course, but where—?”
I caught where Dad was headed and handed Mandu the thumb drive.
“W-what’s this?”
Dad explained everything, skipping over the details of the fight in Frank’s room except to say the man would be unconscious for quite a while. Her eyes widened at that, but she didn’t question it when Dad told her the secrets Frank had revealed. She was angry. But as she realized what she could do with this newfound information, she couldn’t hide her growing excitement. This brave woman wanted nothing more than to care for her daughter and her tribe, and the means to do so were finally at hand.
When Dad was finished telling her about Frank, he said, “It means you’re going to have to haul him out of there, and keep him hidden while the bounty hunters are here. When they finally clear out, you’ll need to lock him up and contact the authorities. Can you handle that?” He gestured toward her injured ankle. “You’ll need help.”
She puffed her cheeks behind tightened lips, as if holding back an eagerness that had long ago been vanquished. “Oh, I’ll have all the help I need. The tribe will rally like never before to do what must be done.”
“And by then we will be well on our way,” a young voice said behind us.
We spun around. Lucy was standing there. I blinked twice at her transformation. The timid girl in Western clothing was gone, replaced by a fierce young woman dressed in native garb. She wore animal-hide wraps around her waist and top, and her remaining exposed skin was stained with earthy colors. This made her light blue eyes stand out in contrast. Her long, black hair was held back by a leather headband. She had a pack and a sheaf of arrows strapped to her back, and a knife at her waist. She held a bow at her side.
She’d slipped into the hut without a sound, and she was magnificent.
“Good,” she said, noticing our packs. “You’re ready to go. But we can’t leave yet. There are still people at the far dock. We must wait for the signal. Then we move.”
“Signal?” Dad asked.
“My friends will create a distraction to draw Frank’s people to the bar. When it’s clear, they will tell me.” Her accent mimicked Mandu’s and Frank’s.
“Lucy?” I said, still not believing how different she appeared. I noticed the deep bruises on one of her arms. They looked painful, though you’d never know it from the way she carried herself. “You speak perfect English?”
She placed a hand on my shoulder. “Of course I do.” She glanced at Mandu. “My mother taught me years ago. She told me it would be the language that would one day save our lives.” She gestured out the door. “And the lives of those who have come to depend on us. It was one of many secrets we kept from Frank.”
“But others must have noticed, right?” Alex asked. “I mean, it’s a pretty close-knit community up here. Somebody must have overheard you. How could Frank not know?”
Lucy glanced at Mandu again, as if deferring to her mom to tell the story. But Mandu was focused on wrapping what looked like dried fruit and fish in banana leaves, so she simply nodded, giving her daughter permission to continue.
“Mother and I never speak English in the village. But once a month, when it is otherwise not a good time for Frank to bed my mother, we partake in what has been an ancient obligation and tradition of our tribe for as far back as anyone can remember—that the ancestral first daughter of the tribal shaman become one with the forest with every moon.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “To live within the forest that the Great One has provided, to suckle, to thrive, to survive its many threats…and to learn.”
I couldn’t imagine it. “And you’re saying you go out there with her?”
She nodded. “Mother has done so all her life, guided as a child by my grandmother, who’d learned from her mother before her, and so on. It’s a practice Mother had insisted she continue when she met Frank years ago, and after my birth she simply strapped me to her chest and took me along. Five days every full moon, twelve times a year for thirteen years, we lived and breathed the forest. I will guide you.”
She seemed so much older to me just then, standing before us holding a handmade bow that was worn from use. Her eyes were steady and confident.
Dad scrutinized her, and I could tell he was torn because of her age. What father wouldn’t be? I trusted her, though.
“It’s meant to be, Dad. She can do it.”
Lucy looked perturbed. “Of course I can. Besides, without me you won’t survive your first day.”
Mandu folded a cloth around the food she’d wrapped and handed the bundle to Dad. “She’s right,” Mandu said. “There is no one more capable. And she’s the only one besides me who knows the dark path to your destination. No one else dares travel in that part of the forest. Not even Trumak.”
“You already know where we’re headed?” Dad asked.
Mandu looked at me. She was thinking about the memory we’d shared earlier that day about the kind old man she’d encountered by the waterfalls. “I know exactly where you must go. And so does Lucy.”
A monkey hooted in the distance. Lucy and Mandu exchanged a look. That monkey call probably came from one of Lucy’s friends.
Mandu said, “You’re out of time.” She closed her eyes, held her palms toward us, and recited something in her native language. I didn’t understand the words, but felt the blessing beneath them.
Lucy touched her forehead to her mom’s in a ritual that I guessed went back thousands of years. Neither warrior shed a tear, and when they separated, Mandu handed Lucy a key that had a fishing bobber attached to it.
Mandu said, “This will give you the head start you need.” She winked. “Plus, it will make Frank very angry.” Her grin was wolfish. “Now, child. Run like the wind!”
“Come,” Lucy said, her eyes on fire. She disappeared out the hut so fast, Dad and I had trouble keeping up.
She ran uphill, leading us over the cleared knoll that supported the solar and wind farm, and into the forest beyond to a path that angled downward to the second dock we’d seen in the distance when we landed. Shouts came from the direction of the bar. A surge of adrenaline helped me run as fast as my short legs could take me. But it still wasn’t fast enough, and Lucy was pulling farther away into the darkness. Dad scooped me off the ground and hauled me onto his back so that my butt rested on top of his pack. The assault rifle slung over his shoulder dug into my sides, but I ignored it and latched my arms around his neck. I pressed my cheek against his, and the smell of him made me feel safe. The mini’s energy was fueling his movements, and foliage blurred as he picked up speed.