I nodded glumly.
She surveyed the room then looked over at me.
"You paid to stay here?"
"They said it was basic."
It was like being in someone's garden shed. Rough wooden walls, a roof of layered tree fronds. Mesh at the windows, two broken down bunk beds with thin smelly mattresses and tired sheets. The en suite bathroom was a sink, a showerhead, and a loo in a wooden lean-to across the corridor. Someone had screwed a white china soap dish into the wood in a sad attempt to make it more elegant.
Our conversation was almost drowned out by the sound of the nearby generator that provided the electricity.
"Never imagined the Amazon would be noisier than Shepherds Bush," I said.
Bridget's luggage was piled up in a corner of the room. She opened the top case and drew out a short black dress, a close relation to the red one, cut low at the front and very low at the back. Compared to her usual taste in clothes, this was rather conservative.
She turned and held it in front of her.
"This was going to be my cocktail hour dress. Maybe I'll wear it at dinner, give Porras an eyeful."
"Another eyeful,you mean. I think jeans and a jumper would be more appropriate," I said primly. "You don't want to be giving these guys ideas and I don't want to be defending your honor."
"My knight errant," she said, rummaging in a large vanity case. She brought out hair mousse and hairdryer.
"Also for the cocktail hour."
There was a knock on the door and a young woman in army fatigues and T-shirt came in. She looked no more than nineteen, an Indian girl with long black hair and large brown eyes, taller and slimmer than the Indians I'd seen around here.
"General Porras would like you to join him for dinner," she said, her eyes widening as she saw the red dress hanging from the nail. She started to reach towards it to touch it then remembered where she was and backed out of the room, a faintly embarrassed look on her face.
We went into the main room just as the rain came down, suddenly and hard, hammering on the corrugated roof, drowning out not just the generator but our own voices. Porras was lying on the floor face to face with the dog, whispering endearments and moving his head out of the way each time the animal tried to lick his face.
Porras saw us and got to his feet. He gestured for us to be seated at the rough wooden table. I saw the girl busying herself in the kitchen, her back to us.
"Where's Joel?" I called above the noise of the storm.
Porras shrugged.
"Eating with my men."
I was wondering if I should attempt to overpower Porras- although I hadn't the faintest idea how-when the door from the veranda opened and a young man in oilskins and wellingtons stepped in sideways.
He was carrying a large covered tray. He smiled shyly and bobbed his head before taking the tray into the kitchen.The girl gave him an equally shy smile. The young man came back into the main room and shucked off his oilskins, water puddling on the floor around him.A machine pistol was hanging from a strap round his neck. He seated himself in one of the plastic chairs and apologetically pointed the weapon in our vague direction. His attention, however, was on the girl.
He had brought our dinner. The girl placed before each of us a plate of fried bananas, cassava, and some kind of fish.
"Piranha," Porras said, "caught by my young friend here in your honor."
I was relieved to discover we were going to eat piranha rather than the other way round. I looked at the brightly colored fish on my plate which provoked such fear in the ignorant me). It was almost round, some six inches long, with a wide mouth in which I could see the two rows of teeth.
"They don't look much different to teeth in other fish," I said, almost to myself.
"I hate to think what kind of fish and chip shops you frequent in Shepherds Bush," Bridget said, lifting the piranha on her plate with her knife. She examined its underside cautiously. "Since when did you become an expert on fish dentistry anyway?"
Porras said something rapidly in a language I didn't recognize.The girl went over to a large fridge and brought out three beers. She handed them to us.
"How many men do you have?" I said.
"Men and women," he said. "We have no sexism here. Carlita here can kill just as efficiently as any of my men."
Carlita cast us a quick, hard look. I looked down at the grinning piranha on my plate. I wondered if it had fed off any humans lately. The thought that eating it might in some way make me a cannibal made me nauseous. I put my fork down and reached for my beer.
"The number varies," Porras said."I like to regard my organization as a modern business-we have a mission statement and core values-so I keep the central administration costs down. I out-source a lot of the work."
He indicated the young woman and boy. "Interns. I have a good training scheme. Lots of hands-on experience."
"How hands-on exactly?"
He merely smiled, showing gleaming teeth.
"You're kind of kidnapping plc? We've been hearing of your reputation for cruelty."
"Somebody has speaking out of turn.Tut.This is a cutthroat business and sometimes one has to be literal about that. But I told you, you will not be harmed provided money is forthcoming."
"And if it isn't?"
He speared a piece of banana on his fork and raised it to his mouth. "Let us not spoil our dinner."
My appetite had definitely gone. I took another swig of the beer. Bridget was tucking into the piranha. It had very solid ribs.
"Tell me," Porras said. "Why are you in my country? Are you travel journalists?"
"I'm here to cover the Rock Against Drugs tour when it reaches Bogota next week," I said.
He frowned.
"Really? I am not familiar with this tour-but then in the jungle news is slow in arriving.Who is performing?"
I named the Latin American acts.
"It's a good line-up," he said carefully. "There are some excellent South American jazz musicians performing. I have played with many of them."
"You're a jazz musician? Well, that's great. I love all that South American Bosco, Ivan Lins ..."
"In Britain I performed often with a man called Otis Barnes."
"The Late Great? Well, he's the bloke who's headlining the tour. Big friend of mine, as a matter of fact-"
"He stole my wife."
"-that's to say I met him once. Stole your wife, eh? That's, er, that's"
"Not quite cricket? You're quite right. And he is in my country? Most interesting." His voice had gone very flat. "Revenge is a dish best eaten cold."
"Is that a saying you have here?"
"No, I heard it in a yankee film about the Mafia-now there's one of the great business successes of the twentieth century. Great branding yet quite diverse-multinational with a portfolio of skills and talents. Managers elsewhere could learn a lot from the Mafia." He shook his head in admiration. "One day maybe"
"Excuse me," Bridget said impatiently. "But shouldn't you be fighting for social justice?"
"You fight for social justice-I want to get rich.You don't think I hang out in the jungle and work these long hours for fun do you? I'm trying to build something for my family."
He got up from the table.
"We're moving from here tomorrow. Back into the jungle. We'll be having an early start so I suggest you turn in. Oh and sleep with your boots on."
"Vampire bats.They batten on your feet to suck your blood." He saw our faces, gave a cold laugh. "Yes, jungle life-you see why I love my existence here."
The generator turned off at nine. The sudden silence was immediately filled by the chittering of insects and worryingly loud rustling in the roof of our bedroom.
In darkness, with no electricity, the mosquitoes gathered.We scurried into bed under the net curtains. We were taking two kinds of malaria tablets prescribed by our doctors although there was no guarantee that the mosquito that bit you would have the right strain of malaria.
The bes
t thing is to use a good repellent. It didn't take long to discover that the spray I'd bought from the chemist at home wasn't up to the job of tackling malaria's first line troops. The ones that had come inside the net with me attacked with impunity, doubtless sniggering at the effeteness of my protection.
"My mosquito net has a fucking rip in it," Bridget said. "Oh fuck-what's that?"
There had been a sudden pained cry among the rustling and fidgeting coming from the thatched roof above our heads.
"Some predator has got its victim," I said, shining the tiny torch I had with me up at the roof. The thin beam of light was lost in the shadows.
"What do you mean some predator-what kind of predator exactly?"
Snake was the word that came unbidden to my lips.
"Budge over," I said to Bridget, sliding into her bunk.
She turned the torch beam on my face.
"To protect you," I said. I looked down at her. She was wearing a fleece with a hood, pulled tight over her head. My fleece.
"What are you wearing?"
"I'm not taking any chances she said," pulling the hood more firmly over her head.
"You've been rummaging through my luggage"
"Yeah-rather a lot of condoms, aren't there, considering how little success you have with women?"
An Angela Brazil spirit took hold of her and we talked by torchlight for all the world like naughty children in the dorm. Crushed together-the bed was pretty narrow-there were other things for naughty children to do but Bridget and I never had. It was sort of an unwritten rule in our friendship. Maybe that's why we were still friends after all these years.
"I don't know about you but I don't want to spend the next few months sitting here," she said.
"Yeah-mustn't miss the Vanity Fair party."
"I was going to tell you about it."
I shone the torch on her.
"What-afterwards?"
She looked vaguely embarrassed but continued.
"Plus, if we're really going to be hostages we need somebody winsome back home to plead our case and keep us in the public eye-for which read media eye."
"Do you have anyone in mind?"
"I don't do winsome."
"So what are we going to do?"
"Wait until they're shagging?" Bridget said.
I recalled Porras lying on the ground with the slobbery dog.
"Do you know something I don't?" I said.
"The young guy and the girl. I think they'll be our only guards. You must have noticed they've got the hots for each other. If they think we're meek and mild they'll be shagging before the sun's gone down."
Bridget was dead right.We lay pretending to sleep until the young man had checked on us.Ten minutes later we heard giggles, then silence, then gasps, and the gentle creaking of a hammock.
"They're doing it in a hammock?" I said. "Isn't there a joke about that? I get dizzy making love in the normal way."
Bridget looked puzzled.
"Doesn't everybody?" I said weakly.
I slid from the bed and set to work easing the nails holding the netting in place from the windowsill. I pulled back enough of it to allow us to climb through. The moon was remarkably bright, which didn't bode well.
Bridget started pulling her big suitcase towards the window.
"You're not thinking of taking that are you?" I hissed.
"Are you mad? Of course I'm taking it. It's got all my clothes in it. Not to mention my shoes.Well, not all my clothes-thought I'd leave the guerrilla girl the red dress to make up for the trouble she'll be in for letting us escape."
"Am I mad? I don't think its customary for escaping hostages to take their luggage with them. It tends to slow you down. Leave it and make a big insurance claim. Just take enough for a couple of days.When the army raid this place they'll find it anyway."
Bridget insisted on taking her vanity case. God knows what was in it but it weighed a ton. I checked out the door.The noises from the next room were continuing. I was impressed by the boy's stamina-I'm more your five seconds of bliss kind of guy. On a good day, that is.
I climbed out of the window and waited for Bridget. She was preceded by a set of net curtains.
"Bridget?"
"For the mosquitoes."
"You're going to wear it?"
"You have a problem with that?"
"No problem. I just didn't imagine fleeing through the jungle with Miss Haversham carrying her vanity case"
It was at that point someone tapped me on my arm. I jumped three yards.
"Mr. Nick, I'm coming to get you. Need to escape tonight before they move us upriver."
"How did you get away from the soldiers?" Bridget said, dropping from the window in a frothy blur of netting. Joel's eyes widened.
"Miss Bridget, I thought you were Miss Haversham. Charles Dickens a great author. It was the worst of times it was the best of times. Mr. Gradgrind, Tiny Tim."
"Okay thanks, Joel," I hissed. "Shouldn't we be making a move?"
"Follow me," he said, slipping into the trees and heading down the muddy slope to the river.
We followed but lost sight of him after about twenty yards
"Put the bloody torch on, I can't see anything," Bridget whispered.
I shushed her.
"I don't want to see anything, the noises I'm hearing are bad enough."
"Yeah, well I can imagine more when I can only hear."
The jungle was full of noises. Shrieks and cries, the constant rattling and chattering of insects. I'd read of a moth that makes a knocking noise like a woodpecker by beating its wings together. There it was, remarkably loud.
There were also, all around us, the lights of a million fireflies. I added the narrow beam from my torch. It illuminated a fraction of an inch ahead of us, glanced off the eyes of strange creatures. I switched it off quickly.
Joel was waiting for us on the shore.
"They have moored the boat and the dub out canoe on the other side." He looked uneasily across the broad expanse of water. "We must swim across."
"Are you out of your fucking tree?" Bridget hissed.
"What?" Joel said, frowning. "The boat is over there. We must swim."
"I don't know about you," Bridget whispered fiercely, "but when I hear the word Amazon I think of the word piranha and when I do that I see those scenes in movies where the water boils and a skeleton stripped of all its flesh bobs to the surface. I've seen the teeth buddy.You get my meaning?"
Joel looked from left to right then stepped into the water. It came up to his waist.
"It's a fallacy to think piranha will automatically attack. It's only if you swim in their feeding ground or at certain times of day"
"See," I said. "Told you."
"I must say I'm not reassured."
Joel looked anxiously round. "Or if you're bleeding. Come on Miss Bridget, I assure you that you don't have to worry about piranha at night."
He took another step and I moved unwillingly closer to the water's edge, tugging Bridget along with me.
"Nick, you must be out of your fucking head if you think I'm going in there.Why can't you bring the boat back over?"
"No paddle. Daren't start engine. Just have to drift with current back to Puerto Nineiro."
I took another step. Joel looked anxiously around then pushed himself forward to breast the water.
"If you're so positive the piranha won't harm us why are you looking so anxious," Bridget called quietly after him as I took my first step into the muddy shallows, pulling her along with me.
"I'm positive you don't have to worry about piranha at night," he threw back over his shoulder as I took my first tentative step into the shallows. "It's the caiman you have to worry about."
I stepped back out, colliding with Bridget in my haste.
"What's a caiman?" Bridget said, her face close to mine.
"An alligator or a crocodile," I said. "I forget which."
"They come out at night," Joel called back nervously
. "They lie underwater."
He was some fifteen yards out from the bank now. I could see him clearly in the moonlight.
Bridget and I looked at each other.
"Joel, you go for help-we'll wait here until it arrives."
Joel didn't reply. He kept on swimming, his stroke a combination of doggy paddle and breaststroke. I looked anxiously for anything resembling a log floating towards him.
"In films don't crocodiles hang around on the bank until they see food in the water?" Bridget said, casting equally anxious glances around us. "You see those shots of them sliding into the water and heading for their prey. But if their prey is standing conveniently to hand ..."
"Shall we set off through the jungle?" I said nervously, waving my arm and ducking as something brushed past me.
"I didn't realize you'd already been bitten by a rabid bat."
"What's the problem?"
"I mean you're obviously barking. I'm not sure I'd go through the jungle in the day, I certainly won't in the middle of the night."
"It's surprisingly light," I said, looking up at the stars shining brightly. I tilted my head looking for the cluster of stars that made a small question mark.
I had no idea what the formation was called but I'd first seen it as a teenager spending the night on Pendle Hill in Lancashire for Halloween-daft thing to do but I've done stupider things much more recently believe me. Now I always looked for it wherever I was as some sort of comfort.
I found it but it gave no comfort now. A landscape that had seemed curiously English during the day was now transformed into the most alien environment I'd ever encountered-and that included the Fringe Festival in Edinburgh. I'd never felt so far from home.
"I don't think you should make any sudden movements, Nick," Bridget said, looking past me.
"Wha-"
"Trust me on this. That log about ten yards behind you just winked."
"Don't you panic," I said in a deliberately deep reassuring voice.
"Since when did you turn falsetto?" Bridget said. She kept her eyes on the object behind me. "Are caiman alligators or crocodiles?"
"What's the difference?" I said nervously, twisting my head to try to see over my shoulder.
"About thirty mph I think. In Florida they can notch up speeds of sixty mph."
Two to Tango (Nick Madrid) Page 3