Their pursuers had quickly caught up, making good time following the path along the river. At one point the trail turned in land to cut through the forest. The natives had to fight their way through thick growth to get a clear shot at the canoes. They made several attempts. Each time the canoes passed beyond the range of their arrows. Even the high-tech weapons Francesca helped forge had their limitations.
It was obvious that the cat-and-mouse game soon would turn in favor of the hunters. The paddlers were bone-weary. They were missing strokes and no longer paddled in a unified rhythm. When it seemed they could go no farther, they were out of the river and onto the lake. They paused for a minute to reconnoiter and to firm up their plan. They would cross the open expanse as quickly as possible, aiming for the outlet to the main river. The impenetrable forest growth along the river would protect them from Chulo arrows.
Heartened by the straightforward scheme, they paddled with renewed vigor, staying midway between the shore and the falls. The thunder of thousands of tons of water plummeting from the five cascades was unimaginable. The canoeists could barely see each other in the fine mist that was thrown up at the base of the falls. Paul vowed to tell Gamay that he had changed his mind about building a hotel there. They came out of the mist cloud into the open lake. Four pairs of eyes scanned the dense forest looking for the outlet.
Gamay, who was in the lead canoe, pointed with her paddle toward the shore. 'I see it over there, where the tree line is bro ken. Oh, hell-'
They all saw the source of Gamay's agitation: the flicker of blue and white as three canoes had come out of the river.
'It's a hunting party,' Francesca said, squinting against the sun's reflection. 'They've been away and won't know we're escaping. I'm still their queen as far as they know. I'll try to bluff my way. Head right at them.'
Gamay and Paul put their misgivings aside and kept the dugouts pointed toward the newcomers. The men in the oncoming canoes showed no sign of hostility, and a couple of them even waved. There was shouting from shore. Alaric and his men had burst from the forest. They were calling and beckoning to the hunting party. The canoes hesitated, then, as the yelling grew louder, they pointed the dugouts toward land. The craft had barely touched shore when the hunters were ejected and the chase party took their place.
Their prey had taken advantage of the slight pause and paddled madly for the river, but their pursuers quickly cut down the angle.
'We can't make it to the river!' Gamay yelled. 'They'll cut us off.'
'Maybe we can lose them in the mists,' Paul replied.
Gamay spun the dugout around and pointed the bow toward the falls. Paul and Tessa were right behind. The water became choppy as they neared the falls. The Indians doggedly kept in pursuit. With their strength and skill they were rapidly closing the gap. The falls loomed closer and the mists enveloped them, but it became apparent that they would be pounded to pieces by the falls if they got closer to the torrents.
Paul shouted over the roar. 'Francesca, we need help from your bag of tricks.'
Francesca shook her head.
Tessa picked up on Paul's frantic plea. 'I have something,' she said. She handed over the sack that had rested between her knees. Paul reached into the bag, and his fingers closed on a hard object. He pulled out a 9mm pistol.
'Where did this come from?' he said with astonishment.
'It was Dieter's.'
Paul looked back at the oncoming canoes, then at the cascading falls. He had little choice. Regardless of Francesca's wishes that her former subjects not be hurt, they were between the devil and the deep blue sea. Arrows were flying in their direction.
Paul plunged his hand into the bag again, looking for extra rounds. This time he came out with a GlobalStar satellite phone. Dieter must have used it to keep in touch with his buyers. He stared at it a moment before the significance of the find sank in. He yelled with joy.
Gamay had moved closer and saw the phone. 'Does that thing work?'
He pushed the ready light, and the phone was on. 'I'll be damned.' Paul handed Gamay the phone. 'Give it a try. I'll see if I can scare those guys off.'
Gamay punched a number out on the phone. Seconds later a familiar deep voice answered.
'Kurt!' Gamay yelled into the phone. 'It's me.'
'Gamay? We've been worried about you. Are you and Paul okay?'
She glanced at the oncoming canoes and swallowed hard. 'We're in a hell of a mess, and that's an understatement.' She had to shout over the roar of the falls. 'Can't talk, I'm calling on a GlobalStar. Can you get a fix on our position?'
Crack!
Paul had laid a shot across the bow of Alaric's canoe, but it failed to slow him down.
'Was that a gun?'
'That was Paul shooting.'
'Hard to hear you with that background noise. Hold on.'
The seconds ticked by like years. Gamay had no illusions about her call. Even with a position fix it could be days before someone came to their aid. At least Austin would know what happened to them. Austin's voice came back on, calm and reassuring. 'We've got a lock on you.'
'Good. Gotta go!' Gamay answered, ducking low as an arrow whizzed past like an angry bee.
With Gamay and Paul busy, their canoes had drifted side ways to the waves. They dug their paddles in and got the boats around. Both dugouts rocked dangerously, but they moved closer to the falls where the mists might hide them.
The Indians hesitated, then, sensing the end was near, began their strange ululation. The archers were kneeling in the bow. They could stand off and let arrows fly at their helpless targets.
Paul had lost all patience. He raised the handgun and took a bead on Alaric. If he killed the leader the others might run for it. Francesca yelled. He thought she was trying to spoil his shot, but the white queen was pointing toward the top of the falls.
What looked like a huge insect flew over the crest of the falls and descended rapidly through the rainbows and the cloud of mist until it was a hundred feet above the lake. The helicopter hovered for an instant, then swooped low and buzzed the war canoes. The archers dropped their bows, grabbed their paddles, and stroked madly for shore.
Paul lowered the pistol and grinned at Gamay. They began to paddle back toward the quieter waters of the lake. The helicopter circled around the lake, then came back and hovered above the dugouts. A smiling figure with a bushy silver mustache and deep-set eyes leaned out a side door and waved. It was Dr. Ramirez.
The phone rang. It was Austin. 'Gamay, are you and Paul all right?'
'We're fine,' she said, laughing with relief. 'Thanks for sending the taxi. But you're going to explain how you pulled this one off. This is something, even for the great Kurt Austin.'
'Tell you about it later. See you tomorrow. I need you back here. Be ready to work.'
A ladder was being lowered out of the chopper.
Ramirez signaled for Francesca to go first. She hesitated, then grabbed the lower rung and, as befitting a white goddess, began to climb into the sky from which she had descended ten years before.
Chapter 26
Sandy Wheeler was getting into her Honda Civic when the strange man approached and asked in accented English how to get to the Los Angeles Times advertising department. Instinctively she hugged her purse close to her body and glanced around. She was relieved to see other people in the newspaper's garage. She had grown up in L.A. and was used to freaks. But she was jumpy lately handling this crazy water story, and even the cute, pearl- handled .22-caliber pistol in her pocketbook wasn't totally reassuring. The stranger looked as if he could chew the barrel off her gun with his metal teeth.
Wheeler had the reporter's ability to take in people at a glance, and what she saw was someone who looked as if he played the bad guy for the WWF. He was her height and would have been taller if he had a neck. The dark
