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Authors: Jack Higgins

Tags: #Fiction, #Thrillers, #General, #Suspense

The Last Place God Made (13 page)

BOOK: The Last Place God Made
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"Sounds too good to be true to me," I said and meant it

 

 

But Joanna Martin didn't think so. She sat down beside him and said eagerly, "Do you think they'll be able to get news of my sister?"

 

 

"Certain to." He took one of her hands again. "It's going to be fine. I promise you."

 

 

After that, to say that they got on like a house on fire would have been something of an understatement. I sat in the wings, as it were, and watched while they talked a lot, laughed a great deal and finally went down to join the small crowd on the dance floor.

 

 

I wasn't the only one who was put out. I caught a flash of scarlet in the half-light, Lola watching from behind a pillar. I knew then what the saying meant by a woman scorned. She looked capable of putting a knife between Hannah's shoulder blades if given half a chance.

 

 

I don't know what was said between the two on the floor, but when the band stopped playing, they moved across to the piano and Hannah sat down. As I've said before, he was a fair pianist and moved straight into a solid, pushing arrangement ofSt Louis Blues and Joanna Martin took the vocal.

 

 

She was good - better than I'd thought she would be. She gave it everything she had, a sort of total dedication and the crowd loved it. They followed withNight and Day andBegin the Beguine which was a tremendous hit that autumn and all one seemed to hear from radios everywhere, even on the River Amazon.

 

 

But by then I'd had enough. I left them to it, negotiated the catwalk to the jetty and walked morosely back to the hotel in the pouring rain.

 

 

I had been in bed for at least an hour, had just begun to drift into sleep when Hannah's voice brought me sharply to my senses. I got out of bed, padded to the door and opened it. He was obviously very drunk, standing with Joanna Martin outside the door of what I presumed must be her room at the end of the corridor.

 

 

He was trying to kiss her in that clumsy, uncoordinated way a drunken man has. She obviously didn't need any assistance because she was laughing about it.

 

 

I closed the door, went back beneath the mosquito net and lit a cigarette, I don't know what I was shaking with - rage or thwarted desire, or both, but I lay there smoking furiously and cursing everyone who ever lived - until my door opened and closed again softly. The bolt clicked into place and there was silence.

 

 

I sensed her presence there in the darkness even before I smelled the perfume. She said, "Stop sulking. I know you're in there. I can see your cigarette."

 

 

"Bitch," I said.

 

 

She pulled back the mosquito net, there was the rustle of some garment or other falling to the floor, then she slipped into bed beside me.

 

 

"That's nice," she said and added, in die same tone of voice, "Colonel Alberto wants to be off at the crack of dawn. Sister Maria Teresa and I have strict instructions from Hannah to be at the airstrip not later than seven-thirty. He seems to think we'll be safer with him."

 

 

"You suit yourself."

 

 

"You're a good pilot, Neil Mallory, according to Hannah, the best he's ever known." Her lips brushed my cheek. "But you don't know much about women."

 

 

I wasn't going to argue with her, not then, with the kind of need burning inside that could not be borne for long. As I pulled her to me, I felt the nipples blossom on her breasts, cool against my bare skin.

 

 

The excitement she aroused in me, the awareness, was quite extraordinary. But there was more to it than diat. I lay there holding her, waiting for some sort of sign that might come or might not - the whole world waited. And hi that timeless moment I knew, out of some strange foreknowledge, that what-ever happened during the rest of my life, I'd never know any-thing better than this. That whatever followed would always have the savour of anti-climax, just like Hannah.

 

 

She kissed me hard, mouth opening and the whole world came alive as lightning flickered across the sky and it started to rain again.

 

 

EIGHT

 

 

The Tree of Life

 

 

I awakened to sunlight streaming through the window, the mos-quito net fluttering in the slight breeze. I was quite alone, at least as far as the bed went, but when I pushed myself up on one elbow I discovered Juca on the other side of the net placing a tray on the table,

 

 

"Breakfast, Senhor Mallory."

 

 

"What time is it?"

 

 

He consulted a large, silver, pocket watch gravely. "Eight o'clock exactly, senhor. The senhorita told me you wished to be awakened at this time."

 

 

"I see - and when was this?"

 

 

"About an hour ago, senhor, when she was leaving for the airstrip with the good Sister. Will diat be all, senhor?"

 

 

I nodded and he withdrew. I poured myself a coffee and went to the window. They'd be well on the way to Landro by now. Strange the sense of personal loss and yet, in a way, it was almost as if I was prepared for it. I didn't feel like any breakfast after that, but dressed quickly, had another cup of coffee and went about my business.

 

 

There were several calls to make before going out to the air-strip so I caught a cab in front of the hotel. First of all there was the mail, then some dynamo parts for one of the mining agents at Landro and Figueiredo had asked me to pick up a case of imported London gin.

 

 

It was close to half past nine when I finally arrived at the airstrip. A de Haviland Rapide was parked by the tower and seemed to be taking up all the ground staff's attention. The Bristol was still under cover. I opened the doors and the cab driver followed me in with the crate of gin.

 

 

Joanna Martin was sitting in the pilot's cockpit reading a book. She looked up and smiled brightly. "What kept you?"

 

 

I couldn't think what to say for a moment, so great was my astonishment. I was only certain of one thing - that I had never been so pleased to see anyone. She knew it, I think, for the face softened for a moment.

 

 

"What happened?" I said.

 

 

"I decided to fly with you, that's all. I thought it would be more fun."

 

 

"And what did Hannah have to say to that?"

 

 

"Oh, he wasn't too pleased." She pushed herself up out of the cockpit, swung her legs over the edge and dropped into my arms. "On the other hand, he did have rather a bad hangover."

 

 

The cab driver had returned with the mail sack which he dropped on the ground beside the case of gin. He waited, mouth open in admiration and I paid him off and sent him on his way.

 

 

The moment we were alone, I kissed her and it was rather disappointing. Nothing like the night before, her lips cool and aseptic and she very definitely held me at arm's length.

 

 

She patted my cheek. "Hadn't we better get moving?"

 

 

I couldn't think of anything that would explain the change although I suppose, on looking back on it all, I was guilty of simply expecting too much, still young enough to believe that if you loved someone they were certain to love you back.

 

 

Anyway, I loaded the freight behind the seat in the observer's cockpit and found her an old leather flying coat and helmet we kept for passengers. Three ground staff turned up about then, having seen us arrive and we got the Bristol outside.

 

 

I helped Joanna into the observer's cockpit and strapped her in. "It's essential you keep your goggles on," I warned. "You'll find a hell of a lot of insects about, especially as we take off and land."

 

 

When she pulled the goggles down, she seemed more remote than ever, another person altogether, but that was possibly just my imagination. I climbed into the cockpit, did my checks and wound the starting magneto, while the three mechanics formed a chain and pulled the propeller.

 

 

The engine broke into noisy life. I looked over my shoulder to check that she was all right. She didn't smile, simply nodded, so I eased the throttle open, taxied to the end of the runway, turned into the wind and took off feeling, for some unknown reason, thoroughly depressed.

 

 

The trip was something of a milk run for me by now, especially on a morning like this with perfect flying conditions. I suppose it must have had some interest for her although she certainly gave no sign of being particularly excited. In fact we only spoke twice over the voice pipe during the entire trip. Once as we turned up the Mortes from the Negro and I pointed out Forte Franco on the island below and again, as we approached Landor and I made preparations to land.

 

 

One thing did surprise me, the Hayley which was parked by the hangar. I had imagined it would be well on the way to Santa Helena by now.

 

 

As we rolled to a halt, Mannie came to meet us with a couple of labourers. He grinned up at me. "What kept you? Sam's been like a cat on hot bricks, isn't that what you say?"

 

 

"I didn't know he cared," I said and dropped to the ground.

 

 

"He doesn't," he replied and elbowed me out of the way as I turned to help Joanna down. "The privilege of age, Miss Martin." He held up his hands.

 

 

She liked him, that much was obvious and her smile was of that special kind a woman reserves for a man she instantly recognises as good friend or father confessor. No strain, no cut-and-thrust, someone she would never have to surrender to or keep at arm's length.

 

 

I made some kind of lame, formal introduction. Mannie said, "Now I understand why Sam's been acting as if he's been struck over the head with a Huna war club." As I took off my flying helmet, he ruffled ray hair. "Has the boy here been treating you all right? Did he give you a good flight?"

 

 

I think it was the one and only time I ever felt angry with him and it showed for his smile faded slightly and there was concern in his eyes.

 

 

I turned away and Hannah came running across the airstrip rather fast considering the heat and the fact that he was dressed for flying. When he was about ten yards away, he slowed down as if suddenly realising he was making a fool of himself and came on at a walk.

 

 

He ignored me and said to Joanna Martin, "Satisfied now?"

 

 

"Oh, I think you could say that," she said coolly. "Where's Sister Maria Teresa?"

 

 

"When I last saw her she was down at the jetty having a look at the mission launch. Had some sort of crazy idea that you and she might sleep on board."

 

 

"What's wrong with the local hotel?"

 

 

"Just about everything so I've arranged for you both to move into my place. I'll take you up there now and show you round, then I've got to run Alberto up to Santa Helena."

 

 

He picked up her suitcase and I said, "What are the rest of us supposed to do?"

 

 

He barely glanced at me. "We can manage in hammocks down here in the hangar for a few nights. Mannie's moved your gear out."

 

 

He took her arm and they started to walk away. He paused after a few yards and called over his shoulder, "I'd get that mail up to Figueiredo fast if I were you, kid. He's had the district runners standing by for an hour."

 

 

"And that puts you in your place," Mannie said and started to laugh.

 

 

For a moment, the anger flared up in me again and then, for some unaccountable reason, I found myself laughing with him. "Women," I said.

 

 

"Exactly. We have all the trees in the world and an abund-ance of fruit. All we needed was Eve." He shook his head and picked up the mail sack. "I'll take this up to Figueiredo for you. You go and have a cup of coffee and relax. I can see you've had a hard morning."

 

 

He walked away towards town and I got my grip out of the Bristol and went into the hangar. He'd fixed three hammocks on the other side of the radio installation with a wall of pack-ing cases five or six feet high to give some sort of privacy. There was a table and three chairs and a pot of coffee simmered gently on a double-ring oil stove.

 

 

I poured some into a tin mug, lit a cigarette and eased myself into one of the hammocks. I couldn't get Joanna Martin out of my mind - the change in her. It didn't seem to make any kind of sense at all, especially in view of the fact that she'd deliberately chosen to travel with me in the Bristol instead of in the Hayley.

 

 

My chain of thought was interrupted by Alberto who appeared in the gap in the end wall of packing cases. "Camping out, I see, Mr Mallory."

 

 

"Hannah isn't here. He took the Martin girl up to the house."

 

 

"I am aware of that. It's you I want to see." He found another tin mug and helped himself to coffee. "I've spent most of the morning arguing with Sister Maria Teresa who insists on her right to proceed to Santa Helena." He shook his head sadly. "God protect me from the good and the innocent"

 

 

"A formidable combination," I said. "Are you going to let her go?'

 

 

"I don't see how I can prevent it. You've seen the authorisa-tion she and the Martin woman have? Counter-signed by the president himself." He shrugged "If she decided to start up-riverin the mission launch now, this very morning, how could I stop her, except by force and there would be the very devil to pay if I did that."

 

 

"So what are you going to do?"

 

 

"You've heard my man managed to make contact with the Huna? Well, he's arranged a meeting for me tomorrow at noon in a patch ofcampo near the river about a mile upstream from the mission."
BOOK: The Last Place God Made
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