The Eden Project (Peter Zachary Adventure)

by John Bolin

  There was a short pause.

  “Proceed as planned.”

  PART TWO

  MYSTERIOUS WAYS

  Chapter 11

  “How’s the girl?”

  Peter had to shout to be heard over the twin 150 HP Evinrude motors propelling their rubber raft up the Amazon. It was hot, probably pushing ninety-five degrees. Luckily, with the increase in altitude also came cooler nights and fewer bugs. Sporadic cloud cover gave additional relief from the midday sun. Skins, Alex, and the Indian girl, Tima, sat in Peter’s boat. Gator and Linc shared a second raft with a guide named Diego.

  He glanced over his shoulder. The second raft was buzzing along just behind them. For the first forty-eight hours no one talked much and everyone had been on edge. That seemed to change the farther away from the city they got. They had been traveling for three days now, stopping more frequently to portage the rafts around rapids and rocky spots in the river. Everyone was tired, but Peter sensed that there was a collective resolve to get to the fishing village and find some answers.

  “The girl,” Peter shouted again to Alex, “how’s the girl?”

  Tima glanced back toward Peter, then away.

  Alex swiveled around so that she was facing Peter. “She has a name.”

  “What?”

  “The girl, her name’s Tima.”

  Peter nodded.

  “Do you realize you haven’t called her by her name since we left Iquito?”

  Peter didn’t have time for this. But he knew better than to say anything. It wasn’t that he didn’t like these women. Alex was easy on the eyes, and Tima had, surprisingly, kept up with the rest of them. When Alex had told him she had access to the full resources of the Smithsonian Institute, Peter tested it. When he asked for a pair of Zodiac boats, additional weapons, and a few other toys, she hadn’t blinked. So that helped. But the truth was that he had patience for the girls only because they were possibly the only key to finding Bogart’s killer.

  That was enough for him. They were in.

  He smiled and nodded. “Okay, how’s Tima?” he asked, his eyes drifting to the girl.

  Tima stared unblinking at the jungle as it whizzed by. Her hands gripped the rope handle sewn into the gunwale on the side of the rubber raft. Peter could see her knuckles were white, like she was terrified of something. Though her emotions seemed to be haunted by some unseen ghost, her body had recovered remarkably. The scratches on her arms and face were only hints now. With the exception of the purple veins, her body actually seemed stronger, healthier.

  “No big changes,” Alex said with a slight edge to her voice. Her blond hair whipped in the wind. She pushed her sunglasses on with the back of her hand. “She’s scared, but she’s okay for now. I have some pain pills for her, but she seems to be doing fine. Better, actually.”

  Peter nodded. He looked over at Skins. The Peruvian had insisted on going along after Peter had saved Afanzo’s life. Gator, Linc, and a wiry guide named Diego bounced and dipped behind them in the other raft. They’d needed Diego to replace Afanzo as jungle guide. They’d been on the water for half a day and hadn’t so much as seen another boat in the past two hours.

  Peter released his grip on the throttle, and the nose of the Zodiac dropped back down to the water. The second raft quickly caught up. Gator, at the controls as usual, eased up.

  A half hour passed. Tima fell asleep, still gripping the rope handle with one hand and holding Alex’s hand with the other.

  “So, Alex,” Peter said, “when are you going to tell me?”

  Alex eased the girl’s hand down and turned. She was wearing khaki pants and a T-shirt emblazoned with the words Free Tibet. She’d gathered her hair in a ponytail, though only half of it held that way. The rest flapped in the wind. “Tell you what?”

  “What happened to Tima.”

  Alex blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean we are heading into God knows what, and you are the only one who knows what happened to her out there.”

  Alex shrugged. “She didn’t tell me much.”

  “Look, I know you don’t like me. Probably don’t like most men, but—”

  “No, it’s just you.”

  Peter paused, smiled. “Okay, fine. Bottom line is if you want me to help you, you’ve got to help me. There’s no way I can prepare for whatever lies ahead if I have no idea what I’m dealing with.”

  Tima readjusted her head into the crook of her arm as it rested on the side of the raft. Peter watched Alex study the girl, then look back at him.

  “What do you want to know?” Alex asked

  “Anything you do.”

  Alex shifted on the rubber seat and swatted at a fly. “She described being taken to a place under the mountains, a city in the mist she said, made of shining metal and glass.”

  “Metal and glass?” Peter said. “We’re in the middle of the Amazon. What do you make of that?”

  Alex shrugged. “I don’t know. As far as I know, there’s nothing in there,” she said, pointing at the jungle, “except rustic villages. And the place Tima described is even deeper into the heart of the forest. I can’t imagine any sort of modern building. Honestly, I would have said she was delirious, but after seeing those guys on the boat, I’m beginning to think there’s more to it.”

  “Who are those guys? Any ideas at all who we’re dealing with?”

  “None,” Alex said. “The jungle is littered with bum drug runners and even terrorists.”

  “Yeah, the Shining Path,” Peter said. “I know about them.”

  Alex nodded. “Besides that, all you’ve got are Indians and poor farmers. Those guys seemed like, I don’t know, professionals.”

  Peter nodded. “They were. Their gear was too advanced. They’re not just thugs. What else did Tima say about this White Shaman?”

  “She said he was white, like his tribe, and that he had a hairy face.”

  “What else? Did she say anything about what happened to her while she was there? There has to be something.”

  A splatter of rain pelted the river.

  Wait. Not rain.

  Bullets.

  * * *

  Gator immediately recognized that they were under attack.

  “Hold on!” he yelled as he shoved his boat’s throttle forward.

  The bow of the Zodiac instantly shot up out of the water, nearly throwing Linc and Diego out of the boat. The craft lurched ahead, splashing water up and into the boat as Gator followed the wake of Peter’s boat. Diego and Linc sat soaking wet, staring at the Americans.

  Gator looked over his shoulder. A pair of black speedboats were quickly closing the distance between them. They were Cobra Predator open-hull river craft, if Gator judged rightly. Built for speed. He could make out at least two men, dressed in black, on each boat. The roar from the motors was loud and seemed to be getting louder. More bullets struck the water around them, sending up plumes of spray.

  “Toss me a gun!” Gator shouted.

  Linc reached down into the black bag and pulled out a Taurus Raging Bull revolver, Gator’s choice. Gator caught the gun by the handle and spun around to fire off two shots.

  A loud yelp behind them indicated that he’d hit his target.

  “Bam!” Linc shouted over the roar, a broad smile on his face.

  Gator smiled back at his friend. It had to look crazy, a big black guy and a skinny white kid working together like an old married couple.

  Bullets gurgled in the water around them as the other boat returned fire. Automatic weapons. Diego screamed. Gator evaluated him quickly. He’d been struck in the arm. Two other bullets slammed into the gunwale of the boat. The Zodiac jolted, and Gator almost lost control.

  “We’re hit!” Gator shouted, fighting to right the craft.

  “It’s bulletproof,” Linc shouted back, “at least at this range.”

  Linc was right. Gator seemed to remember Peter saying something about the U.S. Military designing the bulletproof fabric. He could se
e that the fabric was torn and the tube exposed, but the raft wasn’t showing any sign of slowing. Thanks to the Smithsonian.

  Gator glanced back again. The boats were gaining on them, roaring over the water together. Gator saw Linc’s eyes widen.

  “They’re loadin’ an RPG!”

  “I’m pushing it as fast as I can,” Gator said. “No way we can outrun a rocket grenade.” He wiped his face with the back of his wrist. Water was churning under the boat and spitting up in layers of spray. “But as long as we keep moving, we should be fine. Those things are about as accurate as a kid with a slingshot.”

  “Let’s just hope this isn’t a case of David and Goliath!” Linc said. His eyes were darting around the boat, landing on the rescue buoy flapping against the side. He lunged forward and snatched it.

  “What are you doing?” Gator shouted.

  Linc ducked down into the belly of the boat. “Just keep us from getting killed!”

  The river ahead of them smoothed a bit and was straight as an arrow for at least fifty yards. Not a good thing considering the guys behind them. It was the perfect setup for a rocket-propelled grenade. The buzz of the twin engines indicated that the assailants were getting closer. Another barrage of bullets pounded the boat, rocking it, but missing the passengers.

  Diego sat hunched over, holding his arm, rocking backward and forward. Blood oozed through the man’s fingers, collecting in cloudy red water at the bottom of the raft. He seemed be chanting. His mouth was moving, but Gator couldn’t make out any sounds above the engines.

  Gator heard a loud clang. Suddenly the boat began to slow. Smoke erupted from the Zodiac’s motor. More bullets. The boats behind them were close enough now that Gator could hear men in them shouting. Their voices were indistinguishable but audible. Forty yards away.

  “We’re losing power!” Gator shouted. “Get ready to bail!”

  Twenty yards. One of the men was standing on the edge of the boat, ready to jump.

  “Not yet,” Linc said.

  He popped to his feet holding the bright red life ring. Attached to the buoy was a piece of duct tape—and something else. He heaved the buoy out over the water directly in front of one of the Cobras. The boat swerved but not fast enough. The craft struck the bouy and exploded in a cloud of fire and fiberglass.

  “Grenade?” Gator asked.

  Linc smiled. “Makes a good floating mine.”

  The smoke cleared, and Gator could see the remains of the black Cobra were scattered on the muddy water. At least one body was floating downstream, unmoving. An inky trail followed in the water, mixing with a layer of floating oil. The smell of smoke and gas filled the air.

  Gator spotted one man clinging to a piece of the shattered hull. With his free hand, he pulled a mask over his face. Gator aimed and fired, but the man disappeared into the river before he could find his aim.

  The second boat slowed down, but only for a moment. Peter had swung around and fired at the remaining craft. One of the black-clad soldiers was flung from the boat. They began loading another rocket, and Peter took off, back toward Gator.

  Gator waved Peter to go ahead. “Protect the girls!” Gator shouted. “We’ll be okay.”

  Peter shook his head but then cranked his motor and went on ahead.

  “Got any more of those floaters?” Gator asked. He revved the dying motor as hard as it would go.

  Linc was searching the floor of the boat. “Looking.”

  The sound of Peter’s Zodiac drew his attention. Gator could see that the river snaked around a bend ahead. The shore on either side was steeper there. In some spots the banks rose up thirty feet high like mud walls crisscrossed with vines and roots. The mountains on either side of the river were closing in too, squeezing more water through the narrow gorge. Gator watched Peter’s boat disappear around the bend.

  Gator sliced through the water, following Peter’s boat around the corner. Ahead the river appeared to snake through the canyon at twisting angles. It would be an advantage for the Zodiacs. At least the river was cooperating.

  “No way we can outrun them!” Gator shouted to Linc. “You got something yet?”

  “Nope. They’ll be ready for us now, anyway!” Linc shouted.

  “Let’s try to get some distance,” Gator shouted as he shoved the throttle wide open. The Zodiac’s motor puttered and spat. Smoke poured out, but then it came back to life again and lurched forward. The raft hit one of Peter’s wakes and shot up, airborne for a moment, sailing over the swells. It crashed back to the water with a jolt.

  “Thanks for warning me!” Linc shouted as he bounced back down. He was digging into the black canvas bag, searching. He looked back at the remaining boat. “Fire in the hole!”

  Gator heard the swooshing sound of the rocket-propelled grenade as it shot toward them. They were only thirty yards from the boat behind them, close enough to be deadly. The curve in the river was just ahead.

  Gator yanked the stick to the left, staying as close to the right bank of the river as he could.

  The mud wall next to them exploded, sending roots and mud raining into the boat. A stray root hit Gator in the arm and ripped his shirt, but the Zodiac kept its pace. No way the other boat could take that corner as fast as he had. But something wasn’t right. The motor sound from the Predator sounded too close.

  It wasn’t the Predator.

  As the dust settled from the explosion, Gator realized that the roar he’d heard was coming from the gnarled stretch of whitewater ahead of him. Two giant boulders forced the entire river through a raging, rocky gorge. And they were heading right for it. He turned around. The remaining Predator was on their heels. He had no choice but to follow Peter’s raft boat, safely edged into the teethsafe side of the river.

  “Hold on!”

  * * *

  The muddy canyon walls became a blur to Alex. Dark water washed over the side of the raft, drenching them time and again. The pure white surge of water boiled around black protruding rocks.

  The rubber raft was swallowed over and over by giant standing waves of leaping, roaring, muddy water. For every ten feet the raft gained, it lost five. But they kept pushing, dodging rocks, the Zodiac’s motor chewing against the vicious waves. Gripping Tima, Alex thought the two of them would be wrenched over the side. She had to dig her feet into the seams of the raft.

  As the river rose through the canyon gorge, the rocks became impossible to avoid. The white spray of water blinded their view of anything until they were on top of it. The Zodiac was pummeled on every side, the riders knocked around like Coke cans in the back of a pickup.

  “Watch out!” Peter yelled.

  A massive rock jutted out of the water right in front of Alex. It smashed into the raft directly beneath where she sat and sent her flying. She reached out for the boat, but it slipped away from her and she was pulled backward. Instantly, she was engulfed in the surging current.

  Muddy water filled her mouth and throat. She felt like her lungs were going to implode. She pushed her arms against the current to try to turn over. She fumbled and thrashed as the dark water tossed her around like a piece of driftwood.

  She tried to push her head out over her body to get air, but the rushing current held her under. She banged against rocks and downed logs. She was sure she had reached the end of herself. She could taste the river in her nose and throat and stomach. Her lungs burned. With one last effort, she arched her back and pushed upward.

  Her head shot out of the water, and she sucked in air. A breeze whipped into her eyes, and she realized how fast she was moving. Trees and riverbank were whizzing by no more than ten feet to her right. She searched for a branch or rock to latch onto.

  The noise of the river grew to a roar. She’d lost her sense of direction altogether. All she knew was downstream and upstream, under the water and afloat. The river pulled her down. She tried to surface, but it was as if there was some giant hand over her head keeping her down. Again, her lungs felt as though they would b
urst as she struggled for air.

  With every bit of strength she could find, she pushed against the water and broke the surface. Her lungs filled in one long, desperate breath. She headed down again, wondering if this would be her last—

  Hands gripped her shoulders and lifted her into the air.

  It was Linc.

  He pulled her up like a fish and dumped her into the raft, next to Diego. She struggled to regain her breath, steadying herself against the side of the boat, which was bumping and thrashing in the water.