Man of Fire Read online

  'I know the rest, darling, you needn't go on. Your brother and his wife died of fever in an Indian village and it was left to you to look after Tina.'

  Chris gulped and let her head rest on his broad shoulder. He stroked her bright head and murmured, 'Oh, my darling, if only you'd let me look after you... look after you both! Tina is twenty, a woman, almost -how much longer do I have to wait for you to marry me?'

  Noiselessly, Tina pushed open the door behind them with her foot, the tray of coffee balanced in her hands, and stopped when she saw the two heads close together, totally absorbed. She was about to give a warning cough when her aunt spoke with such heartbreak she felt bound to listen.

  'Alex, I can't answer that. Tina needs me, she clings to the life we have together. She loves this flat and wouldn't dream of leaving it to travel the world as I do, and as her parents did. Our home is the one bit of security she's ever had and I couldn't deprive her of it. Do you understand, Alex, I simply can't desert her!' Her voice broke when she pleaded, 'Wait a little longer, my darling, until she decides what she's going to do with her life, then, if you still want me, I'll marry you gladly.'

  Numb with disbelief, Tina backed silently from the room.

  2

  AS the plane taxied along the concrete runway of London Airport its powerful jet engines seemed to be screaming condemningly in Tina's ears: 'Stupid, blind, selfish fool!' Her tear-blurred eyes searched for a last-minute glimpse of the couple she felt she had so criminally wronged, but the plane turned suddenly, obstructing her view, and a few seconds later they were airborne, their course set for Miami and from there to the city of Manaus in Brazil where she was committed to meet up with the rest of the party bound for what her aunt had called 'the last great journey on earth'.

  She leant back in her seat and let her head fall back against the padded headrest. Dejected and utterly miserable, she closed her eyes and lived again the last few anguished days prior to her departure. Mental pictures floated into her mind's eye as she examined, yet again, the events that had led to the incredible disruption of her once uneventful, well ordered life. Was it a mere week ago since she had heard Chris admit her love to Alex?

  The plane hit an air pocket, lifted, and then dropped alarmingly, but the nausea she felt owed nothing to the physical; she stirred restlessly and allowed her mind to carry on its hurtful probing.

  Her first reaction to her aunt's words that night had been a swift retreat into the kitchen where she had looked around dazedly, filled with dismay. This had been followed swiftly by self-disgust at her own selfishness in wanting to cling to the woman who for years had been her sheet anchor - to the detriment of her own happiness and that of the man she loved. Longing for a home, for roots, was no excuse, she had berated herself, for keeping apart two of the nicest people in the world, and she had leant her burning forehead against the chill of the tiled wall until the coldness had penetrated her fevered brain and forced her to face harsh reality: in her hands lay the solution to all their problems. Ruthlessly, she had thrust out of her mind the cosy picture she had had of herself and Chris contentedly jogging along together for years ahead, finding ample fulfilment in their wholly absorbing job. She had thought Chris to be as dedicated to the work they both loved as she herself was, but she had been proved shatteringly wrong. Gradually, one by one, she had dismantled her dreams and had forced herself to formulate a plan of action that had proved successful enough to land her on a plane heading for a place she knew she was going to hate. But that did not matter. Nothing mattered except the fact that she had persuaded Chris and Alex to fix a date for their wedding - five weeks from today - one week after her own return from Brazil.

  The air hostess broke into her deep preoccupation: 'Would you like some coffee, Miss Donnelly?'

  'No, thank you,' she replied with such cold detachment the girl was immediately rebuffed. Appalled by her own boorishness, but unable to soften so sufficiently to apologize, Tina abruptly turned her face away and stared out of the window. Once more, memory returned to torment her. Superimposed upon the porthole-shaped window, made opaque by the density of banked-up cloud outside, she saw the scene that had followed her aunt's unknowing disclosure and her own determined heart-searching. As if she were a detached onlooker watching a miniature film unfold, she saw again the comfortable, softly lighted lounge; Chris's red-gold head leaning against Alex's shoulder, and the start of guilty surprise they had both given when she, noisily this time, entered the room. She saw her own blue-clad figure advancing towards the settee with a fixed smile upon her face and heard once more her aunt's greeting.

  'Ah, Tina darling,' Chris gave a self-conscious smile, 'you've brought fresh coffee. Lovely, I'm dying for a cup!'

  Tina poured out three cups before startling her aunt by asking, 'Chris, would it really be possible for me to take your place on the expedition? If it is possible,' she cleared her throat before forcing out the lie, 'then I would dearly love to go !'

  There was the silence of utter astonishment before Chris found her voice. 'Why, yes, I suppose so. But I thought you hated travelling abroad. You've always said ...'

  'Yes, I know,' Tina's answer was as flippant as she could make it, 'but I've changed my mind. After all, it's almost a family tradition, isn't it, that we Donnellys should explore? I've been static long enough!' She flung out her arms for better effect and managed to convey a secret yearning when she vowed with enthusiasm, 'I'm young and I'm itching to see more of the world - you can understand that, can't you, Chris? Perhaps it's the old Donnelly urge for excitement stirring in my veins! Will you help me? Let me take your place on the trip?'

  Instantly, Chris's cheeks flushed with enthusiasm. 'I'll be delighted to help you, dear, if that's what you really want. I've hoped that some day this might happen, but I thought you were so adamantly set against the idea.' Her forehead crinkled into a puzzled frown. 'But why have you so suddenly changed your mind? Only a few minutes ago when Alex suggested you should take my place you seemed to react instinctively against it, yet now you tell me you're dying to go? Some intuitive notion made her look from Tina's confused face towards the still slightly swinging kitchen door and, hastily, before she could reach a conclusion, Tina swept over to the window to draw back the curtains that concealed the stark discomfort of the wintry night. Disgustedly, she pointed to the dripping window-panes.

  'Just take a look outside!' she grimaced, then added with a theatrical shiver, 'Who wouldn't want to leave this for sunny Brazil, given the opportunity?'

  That did the trick. From then on it was merely a matter of planning or, in Alex's exact words, skulduggery. He was appalled at the lack of principle Chris proceeded to show in her determination to get Tina to Brazil. She displayed a ruthlessness that astonished him when the question of seeking Sir Harvey Honeyman's permission for the switchover arose.

  'We won't ask him,' she stated with a firm glint in her eye, 'he's leaving early tomorrow morning for a trip to the States - that's why I was with him so long today, we were finalizing the arrangements for my journey — so you can leave it to me to explain to him what's happened when he returns.'

  'But what about the people at the other end,' Alex expostulated, 'won't they have something to say about a complete stranger joining their party?'

  'They need never know!' Chris answered triumphantly. 'None of them are acquainted with me and as Tina and I are both blessed with the same name - Christina Donnelly - they'll be none the wiser! All Tina need do is keep mum and it will be all plain sailing.'

  In vain, Alex ranted on about the stupidity of sending an inexperienced girl on an expedition into the heart of the Amazonian jungle in the guise of an experienced explorer. He pointed out the dangers she would be exposed to without the watchful eye of an expert to guide her, and the unfairness to the rest of the party of landing them unknowingly with a novice on a trip that would try the stamina and health of men well used to the rigours of that particular terrain. But his tirade was useless against the two deter
mined and - his words -criminally stubborn creatures whose greatest drawback was their pitiful lack of imagination.

  The cameo faded abruptly as the captain's voice came over the intercom. His complacently cheerful voice was giving his passengers information about the plane's height, speed and course, and Tina stirred fitfully, unfairly hating him because it was his hand that controlled her destiny; he who was speeding her on her way towards an ordeal that made her mouth dry and her pores sweat terror at the thought of it.

  No one but she knew of the nightmares that had haunted her as a child. Locked in her heart were vivid childhood memories of ceaseless movement from one place to another, and many terrifying incidents had etched themselves on her young mind and had been magnified and distorted throughout the years she had nurtured them. Distinctly, she remembered lying in a cot covered with cloudy white net against which monstrous flying insects desperately flung themselves in an effort to get at her. In another room - another country, perhaps - she was again under a protective white canopy, but she dared not close her eyes for fear of the great black, hairy spider that crouched immobile in the corner of the ceiling glaring balefully down at her with unblinking menace. She could cry out, but her mother would be too busy to come. Only an anonymous black face would answer her call, and she knew from experience that the kind black face would not understand her fretful fears. Animal noises, too, held their place in these nightmare memories - the roar of a lion; the throaty growl of a tiger, the evil, slithering menace of a swiftly-moving snake. All these things and many more, she knew, crouched in the darkness outside her protective armour of mosquito net just waiting to pounce. But her greatest fears were for her parents. They walked and laughed and chatted in that great black void outside of the net and they merely smiled and patted her head when, in the cold light of day, she tried to explain her childish fears.

  But she had known that one day the waiting enemies would get them both, and when, years later, her Aunt Chris had broken it to her that they had both died in some far-off jungle it had seemed an inevitable conclusion. She had been convinced that, in one way or another, the violence of the jungle would claim them. Just as she was convinced that it would claim her, too, if she were ever foolish enough to return ... She shivered, the blood chill in her veins. From the moment she had made her decision to take her aunt's place on the expedition her body had become tense with nervous foreboding and a cold, heavy fear had gripped her heart. She had hidden her fears well, conscious that one slip up on her part would drive Chris and Alex apart - probably for ever. Neither of them had guessed that under her happy, excited exterior was hidden a fear which, as she neared her destination, so numbed and ravaged her mind that when she stepped off the plane in Manaus she had withdrawn mentally into an impenetrable shell of aloof detachment.

  She answered the hostess's pleasant good-bye with a brusque nod and stepped down into a stifling blanket of heat that made the walk across to the airway terminal a decided effort. By the time she had collected her baggage, found a taxi, and booked in at the hotel where she was to meet up with the other members of the expedition, sweat was beading her brow and trickling between her shoulder-blades; not all due to the sticky humidity. While the plane had circled the perimeter of Manaus, preparing to land, she had glimpsed the sprawling tentacles of dense jungle that grasped the town in its menacing green grip, and the sight had awakened in full force all the terrified revulsion of her early childhood.

  An hour later, refreshed by a cool shower and reassured by the modern air-conditioned luxury of her hotel bedroom, she zipped herself into a sleeveless white cotton dress and made her way downstairs to the dining-room. A waiter moved solicitously to her side as she hesitated in the doorway, uncertain which table to choose. She tried to muster a smile, but her lips were stiff and unresponsive. Nervousness made her tone icy and distant.

  'I was told to ask for Señor Vegas' party,' she informed the waiter. His dark eyes mirrored pleasure as he bowed low before indicating that she should follow him. He led her directly across the room to a table set before a wide window where a group of men in obvious good humour were chatting together while they waited for their first course. A sudden silence fell when Tina reached them, and they stood with expectant half-smiles and waited for her to speak.'

  'I am Tina Donnelly, biologist,' she said without a tremor, 'I was told to ask for Señor Vegas' party.'

  Immediately, six pairs of hands reached out to find her a chair, six pairs of eyes assessed her calm face, and a chorus of welcome rang in her ears. There was a short confused interlude when everyone tried to make himself heard at once, then the man on her right took upon himself the role of spokesman and, after introducing himself, began to introduce his companions to her one by one.

  He told her in a rich American accent that his name was Felix Crilly and that he was a scientist. She liked his fresh, wholesome face and his warm look of regard culled a faint answering smile from her. He then indicated, with a wave of his hand, two loose-limbed blond young giants who were smiling their approval of her across the table.

  'Lars and Anders Breckling, brothers, Scandinavian, photographers. Unfortunately, they speak very little English.' Tina inclined her head to the widely-smiling brothers.

  'The gentleman on their right,' Felix Crilly went on, 'is a fellow Englishman of yours, Miles Debrett, geographer.' The tall, scholarly man bowed to her with old-world courtesy. Her eyes carried on towards the man next to him, a sandy-haired, candid-eyed individual who greeted her in a voice overtoned with a soft, Scottish burr. His name, she was told, was Jock Saunders.

  Throughout the introductions, she was conscious of the hard stare of the man who was last to be introduced. She gave an involuntary start when she took in his enormous girth and breadth of shoulder as he leant over to shake her hand. He must have been well over six feet in height. He towered over her and looked calculatingly at her from under heavy-lidded eyes. She had to exert all her will-power not to shudder when he enclosed her small hand in his own broad spatulate fingers and she felt the coarse black hairs that covered them rasp against her smooth skin.

  'I guess I can do my own introducing,' he drawled confidently. 'My name is Theo Branston, American -as you'll already have guessed by my accent - veteran of dozens of zoo quest missions. You stick by me, Miss Donnelly, and you won't go far wrong. I know all there is to know about jungle terrain, and then some. It'll be a pleasure to keep an eye on you, yessiree!'

  She managed to extricate her fingers from his clasp without actually showing the revulsion the man aroused in her, but her voice was stilted when she less than politely declined his offer.

  'I hardly think I shall need to take advantage of your offer, Mr. Branston. I'm not, after all, a complete stranger to the jungle myself and I didn't come on this expedition with the intention of having anyone appoint themselves my nursemaid!'

  Her words were aimed deliberately to achieve an experienced, if not hard-bitten, world traveller effect, and her bid was successful. Immediately, their attitude of kindly condescension, which had its roots in a complacent sense of male superiority, faded as each one registered varying degrees of surprise. If a kitten had as suddenly developed ravaging fangs and searing claws they could not have been more disconcerted than they were then when confronted by a young, innocent-looking girl, as slender as a silhouette on a wall, and hauntingly beautiful, whose voice cracked like a whip as she rejected their friendly overtures. Tina felt no satisfaction at the sight of their ill-concealed dismay. She would have liked nothing better than to have confided in these men and to have gambled on their sense of chivalry being strong enough not to give her away, but too much depended upon her keeping her secret. She dared not risk being exposed as an impostor, so she had no choice but to build up a wall of reserve between herself and her companions in order that they might ask the minimum of questions and leave her to make her mistakes alone - and therefore undiscovered.

  Theo Branston was the first to recover. His full, heavily sen
suous lips stretched into an appreciative grin, then widened into a familiar, knowing smile.

  'Well, well!' he guffawed, 'a gal with spirit!' He slapped his giant hand hard on his knee and affirmed loudly, 'I like a gal with spirit, yessiree, I sure do!'

  The waiter approaching with the first course caused a welcome diversion and his presence helped to bridge the embarrassed silence that had fallen. Tina hid her confusion under a mask of indifference and Theo Branston's gleaming eyes found no evidence on her calm face that his brash remark had registered. The rest of the men, evidently hungry and just as evidently glad to have something physical to occupy them, hastily rearranged themselves around the table and continued their interrupted conversation while they ate. Tina, seated between Theo Branston and his fellow countryman, Felix Crilly, had no real wish to join in the flow of small talk that ensued, but she could not avoid answering the direct questions Felix Crilly put to her.