by Susan Napier;Kathryn Ross;Kelly Hunter;Sandra Marton;Katherine Garbera;Margaret Mayo
She swayed unsteadily. Instantly Slade was beside her, his hands clasping her shoulders.
‘You’re not going to be sick on me,’ he said sharply.
Brionny swallowed and looked up at him. ‘I know it’s beyond you to understand,’ she said shakily, ‘but some of us have human emotions. I can’t help it if I—’
‘Yes. You can help it.’ His hands tightened on her, and now she saw something in his eyes she could not quite identify. ‘Look around you, Stuart. The professor’s dead from natural causes. But nothing else is natural here. Your Indians are gone. Your stuff’s been rifled.’
‘Rifled?’ she said, staring at him.
‘Rifled,’ he said flatly. ‘Take a look.’
He was right. Her backpack lay open on the ground, the contents strewn around it. The professor’s pack had received the same treatment, and their storage boxes had been torn apart.
‘But—but who would do such a thing? And why?’
Slade’s eyes bored into hers. ‘Someone who wanted something you and the professor had.’
‘Our supplies? But they’re still—’
‘The Eye of God.’
Brionny’s heart thumped. That was twice he’d mentioned the Eye. Was that what had brought him here? Had he come looking for the expedition that had gone after the emerald?
Her gaze skittered past Slade to where a dozen tin cans lay spilled across the ground. The tea canister that held the emerald lay undisturbed. It was a good place to hide the stone, Ingram had said. No one would think to look for it there.
‘Well?’ Slade’s voice was harsh. ‘Aren’t you going to check and see if whoever did this took your precious stone?’
Brionny looked into his eyes. They were the same color as the emerald and just as cold. Her heart thumped again but she spoke calmly.
‘How could they,’ she said, ‘when we never found it?’
Slade’s mouth narrowed. ‘You’re telling me the emerald wasn’t in this camp?’
She nodded. ‘That’s right. We looked for it, but we didn’t find it.’
‘Then why did your men take apart your stuff and then run off?’
Brionny shrugged. ‘The porters probably got scared when they realized what had happened to Professor Ingram. They’re very superstitious, you know. And they probably went through our stuff to see if there was anything worth taking before they—’
‘Doesn’t that strike you as odd? Doesn’t it worry you a little, Stuart?’
It did, but not half as much as finding herself alone in the jungle with a relic worth a fortune and a man with no scruples.
‘What worries me,’ Brionny said calmly, ‘is how I’m going to get back to Italpa without a guide.’
Slade gave her a long, searching look. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘Getting out of here is our first priority. Pack up whatever you need and we’ll get moving.’
She turned away and picked up her backpack. The tin tea box. She had to get to it without Slade seeing her.
‘Do you know the way back to the river?’ she said as she moved slowly across the campsite, mindlessly picking things up, stuffing them into the pack, her eyes never leaving the tea box.
‘Heading for the Italpa would take too long. We’ll backtrack on my trail, then cross the rope bridge at the gorge. There’s a radio at the construction site; we’ll call for a ‘copter to come and get you.’
Would he take her safely to the construction site? Yes, why not? So long as he thought she’d found nothing, he’d probably be eager to get her out of here so he could come back and set out on his own search.
‘Fine,’ Brionny said. She glanced over her shoulder. Slade had grabbed a shovel from the expedition’s equipment and was digging into the spongy soil. Quickly she reached for the tea box and dumped it into her pack. ‘Well,’ she said briskly, ‘I’m ready.’
‘Grab something to dig with, then, and give me a hand.’ He looked up as she came toward him. ‘We’ve got to bury your professor before the animals find him.’
Brionny shuddered as she reached for a trowel. ‘Are you always this blunt, McClintoch?’
He grinned. ‘Not to worry, Stuart. A stroll through the jungle, a trot across the bridge, and you’ll have seen the last of me.’
Four hours later, Brionny came stumbling out of the dense trees panting, her clothing stained with sweat. Slade was standing a few feet away. Beyond him she glimpsed a gorge so deep and endless that it made her stomach rush into her throat.
‘My God,’ she whispered, ‘I didn’t think…’
She turned away, telling herself this was no time to give in to her fear of heights, reminding herself that she had only to make it across the rope bridge and she’d not only never have to look at Slade McClintoch again, but she’d be on her way back to Italpa—wonderful, sophisticated Italpa—and then to New York, bearing the stone that would memorialize Edgar Ingram and put her feet firmly on the path of academic success.
‘I don’t believe it,’ Slade said in a flat, strained voice.
Brionny blinked. ‘Don’t believe what?’
He reached out, caught her by the wrist, and dragged her forward. She threw a desperate look toward the yawning chasm at her feet, then stumbled back, her eyes clamped shut.
‘Take a look.’
‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I have acro—I’m afraid of—’
‘I know what acrophobia means, Stuart.’ His arms swept around her and he drew her back against him, lending her trembling body the hard support of his. ‘Open your eyes,’ he demanded.
She took a deep breath, forcing aside the dizziness as well as the incongruous thought that it came as much from being in McClintoch’s arms as it did from the swooning drop before her.
‘What am I supposed to see?’ she said, her eyes still tightly shut.
‘Dammit,’ he said angrily. ‘Are you blind? Look!’
She did—and her heart dropped to her feet.
The bridge that was supposed to cross El Kaia Gorge was gone. Where there should have been swaying rope, there was only endless, empty space.
Chapter Three
THE GORGE was impossible, at least two hundred feet deep and surely twice as wide. Brionny’s gaze flew across it. What remained of the bridge hung drooping down the opposite cliff wall, swaying delicately in the wind.
Her stomach contracted into a hard, cold knot. Instinctively she clasped Slade’s encircling arms. Her fingers dug into his muscled flesh as she fought the wrenching nausea that heights had always inspired.
Slade drew her closer. ‘Easy, Stuart.’ Step by step, he moved her back until the yawning gulf was no longer at her feet. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of.’
‘I know.’ She swallowed hard. ‘It’s—it’s completely irrational, but—’
‘But entirely human.’
Brionny tilted her head back, just enough so she could see his face. He was smiling, but the smile was without derision.
‘We all have our flaws, Stuart.’
She forced a smile to her lips. ‘Not in my family,’ she said, only half jokingly.
Slade’s brows lifted. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘you’re descended from a long line of saints, hmm?’
She laughed. ‘Not saints. Scientists.’
‘And scientists don’t have irrational fears?’
‘Well, it’s not logical. I mean, when you understand what causes those fears—’
‘Bull. Who pumped you full of such garbage, Stuart? You’re as entitled to be scared of the shadows under the bed as the rest of us.’
The upside-down philosophy surprised her. Slade McClintoch was muscle and macho, a man who’d surely never been afraid of anything in his life, yet he was assuring her that it was OK to be exactly that.
‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘I can make you forget your phobia.’
‘You can?’
‘Sure.’
‘How?’
He smiled. ‘Like this,’ he said softly, and kissed her.
The kiss took her by surprise. There was no time to think; there was time only to feel the warmth of his lips and the answering warmth spiraling through her blood—and then sanity returned.
Brionny pushed him away. ‘What are you doing?’ she demanded.
Slade grinned. ‘I told you. I’m helping you deal with your fear.’
‘That’s pitiful!’
‘Really? I haven’t had any complaints that I can remember.’
Her chin rose. ‘Truly pitiful—that you should have to get your women by taking advantage of them in their worst moments.’
If she’d thought to insult him, she’d failed. He grinned again and shrugged.
‘You know what they say. Whatever method works.’
‘Well, this method’s worked one time too many. Don’t try it again.’
The grin faded from his lips, was replaced by a swift and dangerous smile.
‘Threats, Stuart?’ he said softly.
Brionny forced her gaze to remain locked with his. She was in no position to threaten him and they both knew it, but backing down would be an error.
‘Promises, McClintoch. We’ll be out of this place eventually. And when we are—’
He laughed. ‘What will you do? Report me to the authorities for saving your pretty tail yet one more time?’
‘You haven’t saved anything yet,’ she said coldly. ‘Or have your forgotten that we’re standing at the edge of El Kaia Gorge—with absolutely no way to cross it?’
Her taunt hit home. There was pleasure in seeing the self-satisfied grin wiped from his face—but no pleasure at all in suddenly reminding herself of what she had, for a few minutes, managed to forget.
‘Yeah.’ Slade nodded. ‘Let me take a look at what’s left of that rope.’
She watched as he walked to the rim of the gorge, held her breath as he squatted down, grasped the short, swaying end of the rope, and drew it to him.
‘Dammit,’ he said softly.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘I was right.’
Brionny took a hesitant step forward. ‘About what?’
‘The rope’s been cut!’
‘Couldn’t it have just come apart?’
Slade looked at her as if she’d suggested the bridge might have been carried off by space aliens.
‘Of course,’ he said coldly. ‘Between the time I crossed it this morning and now, all those heavy hemp strands got together, had a meeting, and decided they’d dissolve their partnership. Why didn’t I think of that?’
‘There’s no need to be sarcastic, McClintoch. My explanation is at least as reasonable as yours.’
He waved the end of the rope at her.
‘Do you see this?’
Brionny glanced at the rope, then folded her arms over her breasts. ‘So?’
‘So,’ he said through his teeth, ‘rope that comes apart by itself doesn’t do it with such neat precision.’
She looked at the rope again. ‘Neat’ was the word for it, she thought. It had been severed as cleanly as a loaf of bread.
Her eyes flew to his. ‘But—but who would—?’
‘The “who” is easy.’ She tried not to shudder as he flung the rope back over the cliff and stood up. ‘The Mali-Mali.’
‘You can’t be sure of that,’ Brionny said quickly.
‘No.’ He shot her a quick, mirthless smile. ‘I can’t be sure. Hell, can you imagine such poor manners? Whoever did this didn’t even leave a calling card.’
‘There’s no reason to be snide, McClintoch.’
‘No. And there’s no reason to stick your head in the sand. Someone cut the ropes, and we don’t have a long list of suspects.’
‘I know that. But there’s still no reason to assume—’
He swung toward her, his eyes filled with anger. ‘You and Ingram found the stone, didn’t you?’
Brionny blinked, ‘What—what stone?’
His mouth twisted. ‘Don’t play games with me, lady. You know damned well what stone. The emerald. You and the old man found it, you took it, and the Mali-Malis want it back.’
‘That’s not true! I mean—I mean, we didn’t take it. I told you, we didn’t find it.’
‘And that’s still your story?’
‘It’s not a story. It’s the truth. And you’re wasting your time, McClintoch. You’re trying to shift the blame, but you can’t.’
‘Me? Shift the blame?’ He jammed his hands on to his hips. ‘For what?’
‘If—I repeat if—the Mali-Mali really are angry, it’s at you. It was you they shot at.’
‘I was a handy target. One outsider’s the same as another as far as they’re concerned.’
‘So you say. But you were the target, not the professor and me.’
‘The operative word is “were”. Taking out the bridge puts us on an equal footing.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What’s the matter, Stuart? Can’t your highly trained, upper-class brain process this information? Let me simplify it for you. The bridge is gone. We’re stuck here, on this side of the gorge, while the Mali-Malis decide what they want to do next.’
Brionny stared at him. ‘But—surely there’s something we can do?’
Slade walked slowly to the rim and stared across it. ‘So near and yet so far,’ he said softly. ‘The construction camp is only a couple of hours’ walk.’
A couple of hours, Brionny thought, her gaze following his. A handful of miles to a field telephone, to civilization, to whoever was in charge of the company where Slade McClintoch worked, where he’d probably first heard about the easy pickings across the gorge, about the archaeologists who’d come after the fabulous emerald.
‘Won’t the construction company send someone after you when they realize you’re missing?’ Brionny felt a surge of hope. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner? ‘They’ll see that the bridge is out and—’
‘No one knows I crossed El Kaia.’
‘Someone must. Your boss. Your crew chief. Whatever the man in charge is called.’
Slade looked at her. This was the time to tell her that the man in charge was called Slade McClintoch…
No, the devil within him said, don’t do that. Let the lady sweat a while; let her stop looking down her pretty nose at a man she obviously thinks is only slightly better than dirt.
He shrugged lazily. ‘I didn’t check with anybody before I took off.’
Of course, Brionny thought, she should have known better. Men like him came and went, taking jobs for a few days, walking off when they tired of the work.
‘You’ll be missed, though,’ she said, trying to keep the desperation she suddenly felt from her voice. ‘Somebody’s bound to realize you’re gone and—’
He shot her a pitying smile. ‘Give it up, Stuart. No one keeps tabs on me.’
He turned away, jammed his hands into his pockets, and paced along the rim of the gorge.
‘Damn,’ he said, ‘damn, damn, damn.’
‘What about repairing the bridge?’ Brionny said, more sharply than she’d intended. ‘Is there a chance of that?’
Slade looked at her and laughed. ‘Can you fly?’
‘I already told you, McClintoch, there’s no point in being sarcastic.’
‘Then try using your head. How can we fix a bridge we can’t reach?’
Her gaze flew over the wide chasm again. He was right. The bridge might as well have been on the moon.
‘Well, what did people do before the bridge was here?’ Slade gave her a look that made her bristle. ‘Don’t look at me that way,’ she snapped. ‘I know something about the history of this place, McClintoch. People from both sides of El Kaia have traded back and forth for centuries. Surely they didn’t always have a bridge to walk across?’
‘Yeah.’ He smiled slowly. ‘I suppose that’s true. Hell, maybe you’re not as useless as I thought.’
‘Intelligence is never useless,’ Brionny said coldly, ‘but I wouldn’t expect someone like you t
o understand that.’
Slade’s smile narrowed. ‘No. No, you’re quite right. The only things I understand are sweat and hard work. All the rest is just so much garbage.’
‘What a charming philosophy. I just—Hey. Hey!’ Her voice rose as Slade bent down, grasped an end of rope, and began to ease himself carefully over the rim. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Putting my muscles to use. As you just pointed out, it’s all I’m good for.’
He grunted softly as he began lowering himself. Brionny saw his muscles strain and expand under the soft, clinging cotton of his T-shirt. A rush of heat blazed through her blood. Vertigo, she thought, and looked quickly away.
‘What’s the matter, Stuart? I’m not going to fall, if that’s what’s worrying you.’
‘The rope’s not long enough to climb down, is it?’ she said, ignoring the taunt.
Slade shook his head. ‘Not by a long shot. But there’s a narrow ledge ten or fifteen feet down—I can get that far. There might be something below it that I can’t see from here, strong vines or maybe some footholds—’
‘Footholds?’ Brionny gave a choked laugh. ‘Only if you’re a mountain goat.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m going to check it out anyway.’ Slade squinted up at the sky. ‘We’ve got a little time before it gets dark, enough to see if we have a shot at climbing out of here at first light tomorrow.’
‘You’re crazy, McClintoch. If you fall—’
‘Oh, darling,’ he purred, ‘how sweet. I didn’t think you cared.’
Brionny glared at him. ‘Understand something. If you fall and break your head, I’m not coming down after you.’
He gave her a cocky grin. ‘Ah, the sweetness of the woman,’ he said. Clutching the rope carefully, he maneuvered down another foot. ‘Come on, Stuart, think of how great it’ll be to stand up there and say, “I told you so”, if I go crashing to the bottom.’ He looked over his shoulder, then shuddered dramatically. ‘Just be sure you say it loud enough so I can hear you. It’s a long way down.’
Brionny looked past him to the floor of the gorge. Panic clutched at her belly but she would sooner have died than let him see it. ‘Go on,’ she said, ‘have a good time. There’s no accounting for some people’s tastes.’