'Pardon?'
'What...is…your...name?'
The man pretended to think about it. 'My name? Hmmm...my name is Mr. Go-fuck-yourself. How'd ya like that for a name there, cowboy. You like that one?'
Ethan's jaw dropped.
The man snorted in Ethan's face. 'That's right. I don't work for you. You can't tell me to do jack-shit.'
Ethan pointed in the guard’s face. ‘You work for Rourke. Rourke works for me. Do the math, shit-for-brains. But you don’t work here any longer.’
The man suddenly cocked his head, listening to his radio earpiece again. He raised a finger to keep Ethan's attention. 'Wait. It's Rourke.'
Ethan was done with this fool. He started to turn, but the man grabbed Ethan's shirt sleeve. His eyes flicked up to Ethan again. 'I said wait.'
Ethan jerked his sleeve free. 'Get your hands off me.'
'Repeat that last,' requested the man into his radio, ignoring Ethan. 'I have Ethan here with me now.'
He smiled into his radio and winked at Ethan. 'Confirmed. OK. In one piece. With pleasure.'
He focused on Ethan again. 'Ambrose Rourke has a message for you.'
'What did he say?' spat Ethan furiously.
'This.' The guard punched Ethan full in the face.
Ethan drifted backwards on his heels. His face fractured into a mask of numb shock. He hit the dirt and rolled backwards.
The man laughed as Ethan rolled onto his hands and knees. 'I bet you weren't expecting that! Man, I love my job. Kicking the shit out of wise-ass dirt-jockeys. This is the life. Who'd have thought when I was at school that I'd end up getting paid to beat the shit out of the teacher? Get up, cowboy. OK then, once more for the cheap seats.'
And with that, the man punched Ethan in the face again. Ethan hadn't even gained his feet properly. He tumbled backwards again, the blue sky flashing through his vision as his head snapped back.
'That was a good one,' said the guard. 'I felt that right up my arm. I betcha felt that one, huh? OK, you ready to be a good boy yet? Yeah, I thought so.'
Grabbing Ethan's shirt, the man yanked Ethan to his feet. He spun Ethan and kicked him in the back, propelling him the opposite way he’d been going.
Ethan stumbled a dozen steps and glanced over his shoulder. He'd just been assaulted, and now he was being led through his own site at gunpoint! What was going on? A nasty thought occurred. Surely this wasn't about Joanne's death? Surely they didn't think he'd hurt Joe? That was too ridiculous to contemplate, but what else could it be? In hindsight, he was the only one with Joe when she was injured, and the idea of a golden arrow from a six hundred year old trap did sound implausible. If he had seen it happen and could hardly believe it, then why would anyone else.
Maybe the University's questions over the radio had really been an interrogation. That would also explain why the local police were so vague. Perhaps they were stalling until they could arrange things with Ambrose Rourke. Rourke had his own satellite radio system. He could have been receiving instruction the entire time Ethan was occupied on the other radio. That had to be it. What other reason could the guard have of acting like this? They thought he was a murderer.
They think I killed Joanne.
Ethan asked without turning, 'This is about Joanne, right? Kline, you are making a huge mistake if you - '
Kline interrupted. 'So you remember my name now? That's a first. Stop walking.'
Ethan felt his entire body flinch as a gun muzzle pressed into his neck. 'Get this straight,' started Kline. 'You aren't in charge of this site anymore. Your days of asking questions are over. You now have zero authority. Just shut your mouth and do what I say.'
Kline shoved Ethan savagely forwards with the gun. 'Head towards the security tents.'
Ethan obliged, praying that they didn't run into Claire or Nina, the only other two people who had remained behind when the boat left. Who knew what would happen if this madman saw them? Claire had been first to reach Joe after Ethan. Maybe they suspected her too. Ethan had left Nina in the comm-tent, but he had no idea of Claire's movements.
Kline followed Ethan all the way to the security tent, then pulled the cord to concertina back one of the canvas entrance flaps. The security tent was really a canvas addition to one of the more intact Plaza ruins. Kline waved Ethan through with the gun, following closely.
Rourke and Nina were already inside.
Rourke was tying Nina’s hands behind her back.
Ambrose Rourke finished binding Nina's hands and then, grasping her shoulders, pressed her down into a folding chair.
The chair was right in the middle of the tent.
Nina gasped when she saw Ethan enter. 'Ethan….'
'It's all right,' said Ethan. 'Just relax. We're going to sort this out and everything will be fine. This is just a misunderstanding.'
Ethan looked at the man he’d come to know during the last three years. Earlier that day he'd reflected on how Rourke resembled a kindly old inventor or pottering academic.
Now he looked like the scariest person in the world.
Scary because he looked exactly the same as he had before.
Kline shoved Ethan forward. 'I caught the King of the dirt-jockeys to join his chocolate Queen.'
Ethan kept his eyes on Rourke. 'Do you think I had something to do with Joanne's death? Well, Nina wasn't even down there when Joe died. You have no reason to restrain her, and no real reason to detain me. We're in the middle of the damn jungle! Your man here just assaulted me!'
Rourke waited until Ethan took a breath. 'You done?'
'What's going on here, Ambrose?'
Ambrose Rourke considered the question. When he spoke, his voice held nothing of the man Ethan knew. 'Civilization is a thin and fragile veneer, Professor March. And right now you're on the wrong side of it.'
#
Claire felt numb.
It had nothing to do with the cold shower she'd just taken to wash off Joanne’s blood. She'd started by just washing her hands and arms, but it hadn't been enough. Even the shower hadn't been enough, especially when she had to put blood-stained clothes back on.
Heading back to her tent for fresh clothes, she tried her radio again. 'Ethan, please respond. What's your location?'
She listened, but got no answer.
'Nina, please reply. I can't find Ethan. I can't find anybody, actually.'
No reply came back. They must be together. But where were the security guards? She couldn’t find anybody.
She stopped and turned around on the spot. Where have they all gone? Why aren't they answering?
The unpleasant answer wriggled its way into Claire's head like a jungle parasite. They're down in the bunker where Joanne died. That was the obvious answer. The radios were unreliable down there. If Claire knew Ethan, he would be down there trying to figure out what had happened, regardless of what the police said. She should really be there too. She should be investigating in her role as the safety officer, if only to confirm the site didn't have any more hazards. Claire looked in the direction of the east bunker. She couldn't face it. Going down those stairs, seeing where Joanne had lain. The fallen tripod. The blood all over the floor and on Joe’s computer.
She turned away and headed towards her tent.
And I'm supposed to be the safety officer....
Not for much longer though. Everything had changed in the last hour. She'd tell Ethan as soon as she found him. This was her last season. She couldn’t ever be happy working here again after what happened to Joanne. She could never feel the same way about the Plaza.
She hated the place.
If she could, she'd bury the Plaza back under the soil where it belonged. It was a mistake for them to have uncovered it. She'd stick around to tie up loose ends, but there was no way she could ever work here again.
Pushing through the flap into her tent-come-office, she stripped off her boots and shorts. Blood had soiled her shorts where she'd knelt to give Joanne CPR. She checked her shirt. Blood flec
ks. She stripped that off too, throwing the clothes across the tent.
She hunted around in her bag for some cleanish trousers. Yesterday's tan work pants looked alright, but all her shirts were filthy. She slipped on her blue jogging singlet. That'd do. Who cared anyway? She sat on her stretcher-bed and laced up her steel cap boots.
What now?
She checked her watch. Ethan hadn't told her when the police were arriving. It was normally a four hour boat trip back to their vehicle pick-up. Perhaps the investigators would fly in.
Claire guessed that Ethan, Nina and herself would catch a ride back with the police. And Joanne? Would they be taking her with them? Perhaps she should start packing Joanne's belongings. That would be something constructive at least, and someone had to do it. But then perhaps the police wanted everything left as is. Something awful struck Claire another mental slap.
Did Joanne's parents even know? Joe had sisters and a brother too. Claire didn't envy whoever had to contact the family and break the news, but if it fell to her as the safety officer, she would do it. She should probably contact the family anyway. She was there with Joe until the end, and she could at least tell them that Joe hadn't suffered terribly long. And she could tell them how much Joe had loved her work. And how everyone had loved her.
And how much their friendship meant to Claire.
Claire put her head down and controlled her tears.
As she wiped them away, someone stepped into her tent.
'Hey,' she objected as three security staff barged in. 'This is my tent. Who the hell do you think you are?'
She read their names embroidered onto their shirts. Tyler, Samson and Rainer.
She stood up and pointed at the tent flap. 'Get the hell out of - '
The first guard, Tyler, jabbed a small rectangular box into her stomach.
Claire's world shuddered. Pain eclipsed her entire frame. Her body clenched up and fell onto the bunk.
He just shocked me! The bastard just electric shocked me!
She scrambled back on the bunk and yelled, 'Christ! What? What do you want?'
Rainer lunged at her. She kicked out with her left steel cap boot.
Tyler deftly jabbed the Taser into her leg.
This time the pain was obscene. She jolted rigid. Her face hit the bed frame like a stunned fish whacking the deck of a boat.
She came to her senses yelling in fear. Her body wasn't responding. They were going to rape her! That's all she could think of. Now that the site was practically empty, the security staff were going to rape her.
Tyler scuttled around the bunk to Taser her again while the other two blocked the exit with their machine guns ready.
'No! Stop! Wait! Please stop!' She was crying, holding her hands up begging, things were going blurry. There was blood in her mouth where she'd bitten her tongue. Scrambling backwards, she overturned her bunk.
Tyler reached over and grabbed her hair. He savagely yanked her over the bunk and dragged her out the tent flap. Claire tripped but never fully hit the ground because Tyler was dragging her by the hair.
She scrambled to her feet before he tore her scalp off. Someone wrenched her hands up behind her back. She was thrust forward. As her legs started working properly again, she heard the guards speak for the first time.
'Told you it would come in handy.' That was Tyler speaking, holding up the Taser.
'Feisty bitch, alright,' the one holding her arms replied. 'I told you she was. Lucky she didn't connect with that steel cap boot. Those things leave a mark.'
#
Kline blocked the exit. Ethan stood before Ambrose Rourke. Nina was still in the folding canvas chair.
Ethan’s stomach felt full of screwdrivers.
Kline shoved Ethan further into the tent. 'Should I do his hands?'
Rourke glanced at Nina. 'No. He'll be needing them in a moment.'
Ethan had no idea what all this cryptic 'civilization-is-a-thin-veneer' bullshit meant, but he knew something bad was about to go down. 'This isn't about Joanne, is it?'
Bemused, Rourke shook his head. Ethan had obviously been way off-track.
Nina blurted, 'Is this political? Are we hostages?'
Rourke raised one eyebrow. 'Politics? No. This is purely personal.'
Ethan struggled to understand. 'Personal? How can any of this be personal? We hardly know each other outside of work.'
'Personal profit,' Rourke clarified.
Ethan looked around the tent as though the answers might be on the canvas. 'What profit? You mean ransom?'
Rourke shook his head. ‘Keep trying.’
Ethan grasped for an explanation. Everything that came to mind seemed ludicrous. He chose the least ridiculous. 'You mean the equipment on the site? It's all insured. Take it!'
Rourke scoffed. 'Your equipment is junk! My equipment alone is worth twice as much as any of the gadgets you've brought on site.'
'Your equipment? What are you even talking about? You don't have any equipment.' Ethan glanced at Nina for confirmation.
Nina shrugged, warily watching Rourke hovering beside her.
Rourke stepped up close to study Ethan's face. 'Are you serious? You really don't know what this is about?'
Ethan looked around the tent. He was obviously missing something important. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'
Rourke laughed at Ethan. 'I thought you were faking it all along, but you really have no idea what the Plaza is, do you?’'
Ethan remembered the flashlight. 'It was you! You were in the bunker before me!'
Rourke nodded and waved at Ethan's pocket. 'I lost my flashlight down there. Same one you've been carrying around for two days.'
Ethan reached into his pocket for the flashlight, but his hand found something else. It was the roaming handset for the satellite phone. He'd taken it in case Nina needed to forward him calls from the comm-tent. It could make calls from anywhere on the site. He tried to remember the layout of the buttons from memory. He'd hardly ever used it, but he thought he could remember the layout. He thumbed through the controls, keeping his arm as still as possible.
Kline barked, 'Watch him. He's got something in his pocket.'
Rourke jerked Ethan's hand out of his pocket. He snatched away the phone and read the digital screen.
'We need help!' Ethan yelled towards the phone, hoping someone heard on the other end.
Rourke thumbed the 'Call Cancel' button on the phone as Ethan yelled. He held the phone up to Kline. 'Did you know he had this?'
Kline shrugged, unconcerned. 'It was still in the comm-tent this morning. He must have just picked it up. The range is limited. He didn't use it before. I doubt anything got through, even if the call connected.'
Rourke tossed Kline the handset. 'Check it out. Find who he called.'
Kline caught the handset and started thumbing through the options on the tiny LCD screen.
Rourke unclipped something from his belt. It was a cable-tie for joining things together. Ethan used small ones back home for sealing his garbage bags. They used them on site for securing the wooden scaffolding. This one was a heavier grade, like the kind you saw the military using to bind people's hands on the news.
Rourke slipped the tapered end through the eyelet, making a circular strip of plastic about ten inches across. 'I'm only going to ask you once. Ready? Now listen carefully. This little scene has the potential to end very badly.'
Ethan stuttered quickly, 'I promise I will tell you anything, everything that I know, just please don't hurt anybody. It's not worth it. I'll give you whatever you want.'
'How long before the investigators arrive?’
'What?'
'Your little friend died, and now the police want to know how it happened. How long before they get here?'
Ethan answered honestly, 'They couldn't tell me. They're having trouble finding transport.'
Apparently Rourke considered Ethan's answer unsatisfactory. 'Hold him.'
Kline twisted Ethan’s arm
s behind his back.
'OK. Two hours,' lied Ethan. 'They said they'd be here in two hours. They're chartering a helicopter.'
Standing behind Nina, Rourke placed a large hand on each of her shoulders. He still held the plastic ring in his left hand.
'I'm going to conduct a little experiment,' Rourke began. 'To see what kind of a man you are, Ethan. I guess you could call it research. Are you ready?'
Nina begged, 'Please don't do whatever you're planning to do.'
Rourke dropped the plastic ring over Nina’s head. With one savage jerk, he yanked it tight around her neck. The ring contracted and locked tight.
Nina's eyes bulged. Her hands were restrained. Ethan lunged his entire body weight forward against Kline's arm lock. He twisted and kicked at the same time, not caring that Kline had a gun. He broke free as Nina fell from the chair.
She hit the ground struggling like an insect emerging from a cocoon. From her pinched-off neck to her temples was bright red. Ethan tried to force his fingers under the cable-tie. Too tight! It was biting too deeply to get his fingers under. Nina thrashed, her mouth gaping as Ethan found the small locking mechanism.
Shit - he couldn't open it! It felt too small to unlock with fingers!
Rourke tossed a sheathed dive knife to the ground beside Ethan.
Ethan dived on the knife and pulled it - wait - he couldn't pull the damn thing from its hard plastic sheath! He looked at the knife sheath as valuable seconds ticked away to the sound of Nina thrashing wildly on the ground. There was some kind of clip holding the knife in. He pressed it and....there. He yanked the knife free and dived back across to Nina.
Her face looked unrecognizable. Her neck had swollen so much he could barely see the cable-tie.
'I know what you're thinking,' taunted Rourke. 'Where to stick the knife that shouldn't do any long-term damage. I faced that very same question myself once. Well, you've left it a bit late now. You've only got one option left.'
The idea of cutting into Nina’s trachea below the ring flashed into Ethan's mind. He tried to position the knife, but then realized it wouldn’t work. The blood was cut off from her brain. Even if she could get air in her lungs, the oxygenated blood wouldn't reach her brain. He would have to cut down into the swollen flesh of her neck and get the blade under the ring.
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