massive. Suddenly, there was a hard bump against the boat. It tipped alarmingly and Zeb lost her balance.
There was another bump, harder than the first.
She was going to fall into the river and called to Juarez for help but he was holding the oars. The water's chill made her gasp and she went under, kicking, panicking, desperate to get back into the boat. She had read that crocodiles didn't bite off limbs as a shark did, but gripped you in their crushing jaws and rolled you until you drowned or were too weak to fight. Then they dragged you to a submerged hollow in the riverbank and left you there with their other prey. Eventually, they returned and ate you. She had read stories of victims regaining consciousness in the reptile's watery lair, surrounded by rotting flesh…
Frantically she reached up to the boat, to where Mendoza was holding out his hand. Something touched her leg and she screamed. She kicked harder, adrenalin pumping through her.
Then she heard a deeper, louder grunt. Right behind her. The creature had to be huge. She had never felt such raw terror. Something gripped her shoulder, pulling her away from Mendoza. She screamed again and at that moment she knew she was close to death. She fought like a madwoman, trying to squirm out of the grip.
The grunt sounded again, close to her ear, chilling her, and she felt herself pulled out of the water. She struggled, but the grip was too tight. Then, through her panic, she heard, 'Calm down, Zeb. You're safe.' It was Ross. 'Nigel and I have got you. The big croc's moved off.'
As they laid her in the bottom of the boat, she found herself looking up into Hackett's concerned face. Despite the warm air, she was shivering. 'Gave us a bit of a scare there,' he said, wrapping a blanket round her.
She sat up. 'Gave you a scare?' she said, teeth chattering. 'Fuck! What happened? I could have sworn it got me. I heard it real close.'
Hackett pointed at Ross. 'The last couple of grunts weren't a croc. It was Ross.'
'Ross? But it was so real and so loud.'
'I thought I'd better make it sound bigger than the crocs in the water with you. Scare them off. You okay?'
'I guess.' She took a deep breath. 'Thanks. The water's refreshing but it's not a good night for a swim.'
Juarez navigated them through the infested waters until eventually they reached a clearer stretch of river. When he seemed satisfied that it was free of crocodiles he directed them to the bank where there was an elevated section, reached by a set of natural rock steps. 'We build a fire there and rest for the night.' He looked back at the dark river and its myriad red eyes. 'A big fire.'
Earlier
La Boca del Inferno took Torino's party by surprise, just as it had Ross's. However, when the soldier piloting the boat tried to slow down and throw it into reverse Torino said, 'Go straight ahead. Don't flinch. The Lord will protect us.'
Feldwebel Fleischer shook his head. 'But, Father General, it's dangerous. It'll soon be dark and your safety is our primary responsibility.'
'Have faith. We're on a sacred mission and the Lord is guiding me. No harm can come to us. Head straight for the waterfall.'
Torino could not know what fate awaited them. He had, however, studied the Voynich and the Inquisition Archives, and on the screen in his hand he could see the dot of Bazin's GPS transmitter somewhere beyond the whirlpool and the waterfall. Most importantly, Torino was convinced he was on a righteous mission for God, and it was not yet his time to die.
For a moment, as the boat thrashed in the churning water, he thought the sergeant would overrule him, but the pilot held his nerve and his course.
After the boat had thrust through the whirlpool, Torino breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't surprised, though. Even as the boat travelled down the dark, subterranean river within the cliff he knew God was protecting him. He also knew that Falcon and the conquistadors had survived the ordeal on simple rafts with nothing but faith to sustain them and that, according to the flashing dot on his palmtop screen, Ross Kelly's boat was somewhere ahead.
Soon they saw the Discovery neatly tucked against the left bank. The gleaming modern vessel was incongruous in the virgin-jungle setting and the soldiers raised their weapons.
Feldwebel Fleischer gestured at the computer in Torino's hand. 'This is the boat you've been tracking, Father General. Who are they?'
'The vessel belongs to enemies of the Holy Mother Church, who would do anything to stop my mission.'
'What is your mission, Father General? All we've been told is to escort you into the jungle and bring you back safely.'
'All will become clear, Feldwebel, but for now we must follow these people and ensure they do not thwart the Lord's purpose.'
'But how will we follow them? They're no longer on board and you were tracking the boat.'
Torino studied the blinking dot on his screen, his face grim. 'The Lord will guide me.' His eyes settled on the narrow stream winding its way into the jungle. Dragon-like creatures. 'Check there's no one on board, then disable their boat.'
Fleischer frowned. 'Is that necessary?'
'Are you questioning me?'
'No, Father General.'
'Then do as I say. Fill the boats with the weapons and supplies, then let's make our way down that stream.'
39
'That's incredible. Do it again,' said Hackett, lifting another bottle of beer from the cool river. Ross marvelled at how clean and uncreased Hackett's khaki safari suit was, despite all they had been through. Juarez did another of his long grunting crocodile noises and Ross copied it.
'How do you do it, Ross?' asked Mendoza. 'I can't make the same sound as Juarez and I've been trying for ages now. You did it first time.'
'I have perfect pitch, which means I can identify and reproduce any note I hear. I discovered it when I was in a church choir. It's not very useful, really, just a party trick.'
They had pulled the boats on to the bank and had had supper – tinned beans, rice and fish. They were now sitting round the fire drinking coffee and beer, letting off steam after the excitement of the day. Only Sister Chantal was asleep, curled up a few feet away.
'You used to sing in a church choir?' asked Zeb, astonishment written on her face.
'Only as a kid.'
'I used to go to church,' said Mendoza, popping a painkiller into his mouth. He sounded wistful and Ross remembered him crossing himself when the Discovery was in the Mouth of Hell. 'I still believe in God as my saviour.' His companions gawped – this was the man they had witnessed shoot three dead – but Mendoza ignored them. 'You believe in God, Ross?' he asked.
'I believe in good, not God.'
'How will you find absolution for your sins?'
Ross thought about this. 'By trying to take responsibility for my actions, I guess. I don't believe you can be absolved of your sins, as you put it. You can only try to make amends with good deeds. Overwrite the bad with the good.'
'Only the Church can wipe away your sins,' said Juarez, with an emphatic nod.
Ross laughed. 'You can't just go to church and ask some priest to wipe the slate clean. When you wrong a man you ask him for forgiveness, not God. You prove your remorse by your deeds, not prayers. We are what we do. One good deed can make a lot of difference to the world.'
'A good deed in the eyes of God or man?'
'Man, of course.'
