Dark Ransom (16 page)

respectability either.'

'So what were you going to do? Just walk out of here? How far did

you think you'd get?'

'I'm not that stupid,' she said shortly. 'But I haven't seen any vehicles

since I've been here, apart from the jeep Riago drives himself,

although there must be some that the estate workers use. After all,

how did you get here?'

'I can't remember—and that's the truth,' he added wryly.

'Well, the obvious place to look is down at the processing plant,' she

said slowly. 'But that's where Riago himself will be, and if we show

up he'll suspect something. He's bound to.'

'That's not a problem,' Philip said. 'I happen to know that he's not at

the processing plant today. He's engaged elsewhere.'

'How do you know that?' Charlie frowned.

'Just take my word for it.' He paused. 'Do you know how to get to

the processing plant and how far it is?'

'Not exactly, but I've seen the route he takes in the jeep. Not that it

really helps.'

Philip thought for a moment. 'Do the estate workers come to the

house much?'

'Usually only when Riago's here,' she said. 'Or for medical treatment

from Rosita.'

'What about the boy who interprets for you?'

'He comes nearly every day.'

'How does he get here?'

'I don't know,' Charlie confessed. 'It—it never occurred to me to

ask.' She beat a clenched fist into the palm of her other hand. 'And I

said I wasn't stupid.'

'Forget the recriminations,' he advised tersely. 'Are you expecting

him today? Because, without him, we could be stranded here.'

Two hours passed slowly, and there was no sign of Agenor. As the

time wore on Charlie's nerves became increasingly tattered. She was

desperately conscious of the fact that Riago might return at any

moment, so, while she strained her ears for the sound of an

approaching engine, she dreaded it as well.

She had a number of unpleasant thoughts to mull over too, and

uppermost in her mind was Philip's explanation of Riago's presence

here on the Rio Tiajos. Gossip and hearsay it might be, but the story

fitted the circumstances only too well, she told herself wretchedly.

Riago had admitted to her that his brother's wife had caused his

estrangement from his family, but had been clearly reluctant to go

into further details. The only reason for such reticence could be that

he was ashamed.

Yes, he'd behaved badly, but loving this woman, then losing her to

his brother, of all people, had created an explosive situation,

especially if they'd all been living under one roof, as it seemed.

Passion, mingled with anger and disappointment, must have got the

better of him, she thought sadly.

But he'd paid a heavy price for his transgression. No one could deny

that. And she could even understand, now, why he was so obsessed

with family honour. The callous seduction of an innocent girl would

have been yet another serious black mark on his record.

The fact that she'd run away from him wouldn't help his cause

particularly either, she realised, but she couldn't afford to let herself

think about that too deeply.

He was using her. That's what she had to remember. Using her

because she... satisfied his requirements. And emotions, feelings,

dreams, came nowhere because all of his belonged to someone else.

She tore her thoughts away from him with difficulty, and turned

them instead to Philip Hughes, currently playing solitaire at a table

by the window with a pack of cards he'd found in a cupboard.

He'd been as restless as a caged animal all morning, she thought

irritably, either wandering in and out of the room, or prowling

endlessly up and down it.

He seemed even more on edge than she was herself, and getting

involved with him was probably the second most unwise thing she'd

ever done in her life, she decided sombrely. He was trouble all the

way down the line.

There was little doubt that he was up to his neck in something

illegal, and she could only be thankful that his aunt would never

know.

In fact, having him as a travelling companion for even part of the

way was the last thing she wanted, she told herself flatly. But she

seemed to be stuck with him, at least until they were clear of the

fazenda,
when they could go their separate ways.

It was a depressing and uncomfortable thought, but Charlie had to

admit she'd have had difficulty in calling anything remotely cheerful

to mind at the moment.

She was debating whether or not to ring for yet another tray of

coffee when Agenor walked in.

'Senhorita.'
He stared at her, concerned. 'Is wrong, something?'

She realised she'd been gaping at him, open- mouthed, as if he were

some apparition, and rallied hastily, aware that Philip was getting to

his feet.

'Have you only just arrived, Agenor? How did you get here?'

'In the truck of my cousin, as always,
senhorita.
If I am late I regret,

but -'

'It doesn't matter,' Philip cut brusquely across the careful apology. 'Is

your cousin still around?'

'Sim, senhor.
He speaks with Rosita.'

'That's good,' Philip said. 'Then we can have a word with him too.'

He took Charlie's arm and hustled her towards the door.

'I need to fetch my bag,' she hissed at him urgently.

'To hell with it.' His grip didn't relax one iota. 'The truck is more

important than your bits and pieces.'

There was a fenced-off area behind the kitchens where hens pecked

at the ground and a couple of pigs were rooting busily. The truck

was parked just beyond this. It was empty, and the keys were in the

ignition.

'Our first piece of luck,' Philip muttered, then looked at her with

sudden misgiving. 'I hope you can drive the bloody thing.'

'Yes,' she said shortly.

Rather to her surprise, the truck started at her first, tentative effort.

As they moved away Charlie saw in the mirror that Pedrinho had

suddenly appeared in the rear doorway with Rosita at his side.

If she hadn't been so tense and miserable the expression of

dumbfounded horror on their faces would have been almost

amusing. Pedrinho even threw down his hat and jumped on it.

'Take the track to the processing plant,' Philip ordered. 'I'll get my

bearings from there.'

'We should have brought a map.' The truck screeched as Charlie

fumbled a gear.

'I did.' He produced one from inside his shirt. 'I'm sure Senhor da

Santana can spare it. He seemed to have about a dozen of them in

his office.'

'You shouldn't have gone in there,' Charlie protested. 'It's private.'

He laughed derisively. 'Tell me about it. You surely didn't think I

was going to leave him that radio to track us with?'

'You've destroyed his radio?' Her voice cracked in dismay. 'But the

estate relies on it. Supposing there's an emergency?'

'My emergency comes first,' he said harshly. 'Do you think I give a

damn what happens to a handful of rubber-grubbing peasants and

their high and mighty master? We're not playing games, sweetheart.'

'Don't call me that,' she snapped, struggling with the wheel as the

truck lurched drunkenly over a deep rut in the track.

'What name do you want, then—Carlotta?' he gibed, and she flushed

deeply.

'No,' she said in a stifled voice.

Philip laughed. 'If I didn't know better,
senhorita,
I'd say you could

be in love with the black sheep of the Santana family.'

'Oh, leave me alone,' she flung at him. 'You don't want my

questions. Well, I can do without your speculation.'

He shrugged. 'Suit yourself,' he said and lapsed into silence.

They seemed to be vanishing down the centre of some vast green

tunnel, Charlie thought as she struggled with the truck, which had a

mind of its own. She had the curious sensation that, if she looked

back over her shoulder, she would find the forest had closed in

behind them, absorbing them into its world of tall trunks, leafy

canopies and writhing creepers, so that they would never be found

again.

Oh, stop it, she adjured herself. Riago and everyone else uses this

track each day with perfect safety. You're just letting your

imagination run away with you.

She felt even more foolish when a sudden gleam of water through

the trees told her that the track, which seemed to lead inland, in fact

ran parallel with the Rio Tiajos, or one of its tributaries, as she'd

hoped. As long as she followed the river she couldn't get lost.

But, all the same, it was with real relief that she saw a thin trail of

smoke rising above the trees, and realised they were coming to

houses.

The actual settlement where the estate workers lived was bigger

than she'd expected. The thatched cabins varied in size and were

built in clusters. Women stood in the doorways with children

playing at their feet. When they saw the truck, with Charlie at the

wheel, they began pointing and shouting with excitement.

'Keep going,' Philip said tersely. 'Don't slow down.'

'I suppose you'd like me to drive straight over them,' she returned

through gritted teeth. 'I didn't realise we'd attract so much attention.

Now they'll be able to tell Riago exactly which direction we took.'

Philip gave another shrug. 'By that time we'll be long gone,' he said

flatly.

She glanced at him in amazement. 'You think the
caboclos
won't be

able to track us?'

'Not any further than the landing strip, unless they've got wings,' he

retorted.

'You mean you're getting a plane out of here?' Charlie gasped. 'But

that's impossible. Nothing could land or take off.'

He smiled sourly. 'It's almost a scheduled flight,' he countered. "The

same bush aircraft has been delivering and collecting me for quite

some time.'

'To prospect for gold?'

'I tried that for a while up near Itaituba, but it was too much like

hard work. Now I act as a kind of middleman.'

They were almost out of the settlement by now. Away on the left

Charlie could see a buzz of activity round several large corrugated-

iron buildings, which, she guessed must be the processing plant.

There was a heavy chemical smell in the humid air, and she closed

her throat against it, wiping a bead of sweat from her eyes.

She said, 'You're mixed up with the
garim-peiros,
aren't you, the

illegal prospectors? Riago told me—warned me about them.'

He laughed. 'I'm sure he did. But underneath they're just simple men

trying to make their fortunes. I buy the stones from them
brute—

that's uncut to you—and take them to my principals in Manaus.' He

was silent for a moment. When he spoke again his voice was soft,

like a lover's. 'You've no idea the hold that gemstones can get on

you. I've handled amethysts the size of your hand... topazes like

oranges, or as smoky as mist—and diamonds, beautiful clearwater

diamonds. They're the best of all, like exquisite glittering mirrors

into a man's soul.'

'Very poetic,' Charlie said scornfully. 'However, I presume these

same simple men are the ones who injured you and left you sick

with malaria.'

'A small matter of some commission,' he said. 'These things happen,

even in the best circles. But it does mean, unfortunately, that my

career locally has come to an end. I'm getting out for good—going

up to Bolivia. That's what I love about South America. So many

countries. So many opportunities for the—er—entrepreneur.'

'Is that how you see yourself?' Charlie asked with irony. 'I thought

"smuggler" was the more usual term.'

'You've got a sharp little tongue, darling,' he said gently. 'I advise

you to be careful how you use it. The people I work with tend to be

low on humour.'

She was just about to tell him she didn't give a damn about the

people he worked with, or any part of any criminal organisation,

when a man suddenly appeared on the track in front of her,

frantically waving his arms.

'Don't stop.' Philip's voice was like the lash of a whip.

Charlie sent him a look of loathing, and braked hard. She'd

recognised the man at once. It was Manoel, the plantation foreman.

He almost tore the truck door open, staring up at her in

bewilderment and appeal, before embarking on a flood of excited

Portuguese.