though, to see if she was aware of any young men that her daughter had recently been going around with, or any that she had recently met. “Thank you, Brother Saviour,” he said, “for all your help. It was very good of you to meet me and I may say it was also a pleasure on my part.”
“Likewise, Detective Inspector,” said Ignatious, holding out his hand. As Graham took it, he felt the confusion in his mind begin again and it was several seconds before he felt able to speak. “Good luck to you,” he managed, “and I hope your mission succeeds. We need some good deeds in this awful world.”
“I will do my utmost,” he returned before turning to Sallie. “And I am charmed to have met you, my child,” he said. “Whatever your sins, I am sure God will forgive you.” He took her hands in his. “Read your mind carefully; try to make the right decisions. Following your heart is not always the best course.” He let go.
Sallie stared at him, feeling nausea through the erratic thoughts surging back into her mind. Rape me, my God! Take me by force! I deserve it! I am an evil sinner! He knows! He knows what I have been doing! How? How? She remained seated, her mouth open, silent.
Ignatious backed away, a knowing smile on his face. He said his farewells to the three and left. It took several seconds for anyone to speak. Each turned to the other with a feeling that a holy visit had just taken place and none could be certain that the Jesuit had left the building by normal means. He seemed to have spirited himself away. Except that he knew he had been questioning the priest, Graham would have felt that this had all been a dream, or a figment of his imagination. Never had he experienced anything like it.
The trio chatted for the next hour, mostly about the Jesuit, trying to understand the effect he had had on each of them. Sallie kept quiet about the erotic impact he had made on her but next sex session with her lover, she knew, would have an added verve!
Father McGiven drifted into the tales that Ignatious had brought to him about his past experiences: his criminal record, his turn to God, the various missions he had attended with Father Christian, the illnesses, torture and the need to learn medicine. What a varied experience he had had.
Just then, Graham’s mobile rang, causing them all to start in mild shock. It was the urgent voice of Sergeant Flint.
It was six in the evening and Ignatious had enjoyed a nice mixed salad for his evening meal, finished off with a cup of hot, sweet coffee, the rich aroma pervading the small space of the motor home. He was pleased with the day’s work: sent someone to his Maker, another cleansed sinner, and survived a minor grilling from an experienced policeman. He felt his standing with the Almighty was improving to quite a high level now.
Before travelling on to Pangbourne, his next chosen destination, he decided to take a nap in preparation for the journey. No matter that the dream would return, he needed to rest.
By six-twenty Ignatious was sleeping soundly, a gentle breathing sound coming from the partly opened mouth. He did not snore, his sinuses being in excellent order. The faint smile on his lips remained as the dream returned to him, again starting where it had previously ended.
The journey down the tributary was calm and uneventful, allowing the arrival at the Amazon River to be reasonably quick. Under Father Christian’s guidance, the priests manoeuvred the pleasantly creaking craft to a position some fifteen feet from the banking.
The Sun shone from a cloudless sky burning the already deeply tanned crew into an even darker shade. Mosquitoes and flies of unknown description constantly menaced the small band of missionaries as they eased their way along. They had no particular plan in mind; merely to go where the route took them. A major desire was to come across an unknown tribe, of which the Amazon area was thought to contain several. Indeed, in the latter part of 1999, a tribe believed to have become extinct, the Naua people, had voluntarily made contact with inhabitants of a remote little town, Cruzeiro do Sul. The Brazilian Government’s National Indigenous Peoples Foundation, known as Funai, after sending a surprised and thrilled anthropologist to their village, ratified them as genuine.
The waters were relatively calm today; a marked difference from the group’s last encounter, and progress was peacefully maintained. A full day was spent on the river, the missionaries eating as the mood took them.
At seven in the evening, they came across a wide river mouth, leading from the Amazon and into the density of the jungle. Father Christian instructed the crew to take that course and find a suitable place to rest up for the night.
The tributary soon narrowed until they were cruising down a faster flowing river, now some twenty feet wide. Spotting a wide natural bay to the port side, after journeying for half an hour, they made for it, easing gently to the sloping, soil-covered shore. After securing the craft, they all went ashore to take some exercise and ease the aching legs brought about by the inactivity.
The heat was oppressive, causing clothing to cling uncomfortably and it wasn’t long before the men had removed their shirts and Sister Vasquez had tugged her blouse from the skirt band allowing what little air there was, to circulate around her upper body.
In his sleep, Ignatious’s smile broadened as his brain now admitted to the lecherous feelings he’d had on seeing the young nun with the bottom of her blouse showing glimpses of the firm waist-line as it flapped gently, and the sight of her nipples as they were made visible by the sweat-soaked material clinging tightly. At the time, he had denied himself admittance to this weakness.
The path, such as it was, suddenly came to an end with an impenetrable barrier of thick foliage barring any further progress. The sounds of the jungle seemed to bounce back off this natural wall, echoing and booming into the air. An unbelievable array of wildlife had been seen on the short walk to their present position: many colourful butterflies, birds, howler monkeys demonstrating the source of their name, playful toucans, scarlet macaws and several squirrel monkeys flitting busily through the trees.
Somewhere near, but never seen, came the unnerving sound of boars, always crashing through bushes in an angry manner. Unknown to the group, a jaguar had tailed them for a time, curious as to what was invading his territory.
However, the biggest danger had come to them by a mischievous spider monkey that persisted in breaking off tree branches and hurling them with surprising force at the intruders below. It was a small miracle that no one was injured. The party retraced their steps and returned to the boat where they set up the sleeping arrangements for the night. Having settled the bed positions, they covered each with a fine net as a protection against any of the flying insects that may take a fancy to them, the bites or stings presenting a danger of severe illness.
After a fitful night’s sleep, the missionaries set about their morning ablutions and cooked a small breakfast before setting off again. The swiftness of the river carried the boat along as the sun began to clear the early morning mists and send its warm rays to the life below.
Twenty yards down river, Ignatious observed another inlet that was teeming with some form of life. As he watched, a huge, ugly jaw opened, displaying a fearsome mouth. Then another and yet another appeared. He realised with a shudder that they had set their camp within easy distance of a group of crocodiles!
An hour later and the party were ready to come ashore again and trek through the jungle in search of a tribe. They secured the boat, making it fast so that it would be there when they eventually decided to return to civilisation, and set off, Father Christian taking the lead.
The journey was hard, hot and uncomfortable, necessitating hacking through several miles of untouched vegetation, with their large, flat-bladed knives. They had no idea where they were going, using the position of the sun to ascertain the general direction of their travels.
On the second night, a raging fever hit Ignatious, rendering him totally inactive. He was laid inside a makeshift canopy, fashioned from the surrounding saplings and fern leaves, with a homemade mosquito net fixed around it. Sister Vasquez tended to him night and day at the risk of her own health suffering. Sleep was necessary, especially in the present conditions, as the travelling was exacting, sapping the strength and will from the determined missionaries. It was four days before Ignatious was fit enough to be moved, although he was still
