Someone shouted something in Portuguese, and we lurched off. The car screeched round some tight bends, and then seemed to reach straight road. We were moving fast and steadily, in what direction I had no idea.
17
I began to think through what had happened. We’d been kidnapped, that much was obvious. I hoped Isabel was OK. I wondered where they would take us, what they would do with us. If they’d kidnapped us, they would want to keep us alive. Remember that. Help them. Keep them happy.
But who would pay our ransom? Luís would pay Isabel’s. Would Dekker pay mine? God, I hoped so. Ricardo had a reputation of looking after his own. Thank God he had no idea I was about to resign.
How long would the process take? Maybe Isabel would know. I had heard kidnappings were pretty common in Rio, so she probably knew something about them.
I was in a very uncomfortable position, with my back twisted and my face jammed down into the floor. I tried to move, but this prompted a shout and the gun barrel jabbed hard into the back of my neck. So I decided to stay exactly where I was.
Suddenly the car slowed, and turned off whatever road we were on. We were moving more slowly now, stopping and starting. After a few more minutes we began to climb, turning left and right up a steep hillside.
We drove like this for half an hour, or maybe an hour, it was hard to tell. Then we made another turn and the car began to bump and judder. A dirt track. My cheek was driven into the car floor at each jolt. We drove up an even steeper incline, which eventually levelled off. Finally, we came to a stop.
My back and shoulders ached like hell. I tried to move, but the gun jabbed my back again, and I stayed still. Then some black fabric was tied round my eyes, and I couldn’t see.
I heard voices, car doors opening and shutting. A hand grabbed my collar and tugged. Willingly I pulled myself up out of the well, and allowed myself to be dragged from the car. I stood up straight and stretched.
I could see nothing through the blindfold. It had stopped raining. And the air was filled with noise: the sound of crickets, cicadas, frogs, and all kinds of night creatures. It made quite a din.
‘Isabel?’
‘Yes!’
‘Cale a boca!’ screamed a voice in my right ear.
I felt a gun jab my ribs. But at least I knew she was alive and with me.
There was some heated discussion around me. I heard four voices. Rope was tied round my hands until it bit into my wrists. Then I felt a push behind me, and an order in Portuguese that I took to mean ‘Move!’
The ground was wet and muddy underfoot. Soon we were moving up a steep hill along a narrow path. I could tell that because of the vegetation brushing at my ankles. Behind and below I heard the two cars driving off. With the blindfold on I couldn’t protect myself from the branches and tendrils that brushed my face. Pushing through an unknown jungle blindfolded raised all kinds of primeval fears about snakes, and unseen precipices. I tried to move slowly and carefully, but a hard metal object jabbed me in the back whenever I hesitated.
I heard movement ahead and behind. I didn’t call out for Isabel this time. I didn’t want to push my luck.
After an hour or so, the ground began to level off, and the going became much easier. Ten more minutes, and I heard the command ‘Pare!’ and then ‘Stop!’
With relief, I stopped. I stood up straight, and the blindfold was removed.
We were in a very small clearing in a forest. It was still night, but after the blindfold it almost seemed like daylight. A canvas tent had been rigged up between three trees, and there was another, ten yards away from it. I could see Isabel, and two men. Both of them wore Balaclava-type masks. The one who had taken off my blindfold was standing a few feet away, with the gun pointed straight at me. Dark suspicious eyes peered at me through the mask. The other man was taking off Isabel’s blindfold.
She looked round for me and caught my eye. She seemed OK, although when I looked closer, what I thought was a shadow turned out to be a bruise on her cheek. The bastards had hit her.
One man pulled out some handcuffs and a chain from a sack on the ground, while the other man covered us with the gun. Without blindfolds, we had a few seconds of relative freedom before being chained to something, although of course our hands were still tied. And a gun was pointing at us.
Isabel must have seen the opportunity, because as the man stood up with the handcuffs, she kicked him hard in the groin.
The other man immediately jerked his gun towards Isabel.
‘No!’ I shouted, and leaped at him.
He hesitated before pulling the trigger. Perhaps he didn’t want to shoot a woman in cold blood, I don’t know. I chopped down hard on his gun arm, and he dropped the weapon. His hands were nearer to it than mine, and I just managed to kick it into the undergrowth, before he could reach it.
‘Run!’ I shouted to Isabel.
There were two paths out of the clearing, one leading in from the way we came, and the other heading downhill on the opposite side. Isabel chose that path, and I followed her. One of our captors was still clasping his groin, moaning, and the other was scrabbling about in the undergrowth for the gun.
The path led sharply downhill, and we half slid, half ran down it. It was difficult keeping balance with our hands tied, and we both kept falling, and landing awkwardly. I rolled, hopped and jumped down the hill, but Isabel was slower. I paused to wait for her. She tumbled down a steep slope towards me, but was suddenly pulled up short. She had snagged her tied hands in a bush. I scrambled up the hill to help her.
There was a crashing above us as one of the men slid down the hill. It was the one Isabel had kicked in the groin; he didn’t appear to have a gun.
Isabel’s hands were wedged tight into the branches of the bush. The rope and wood were slippery with the wet, and I couldn’t free them.
‘Run, Nick!’ she shouted.
I took no notice, and scrabbled frantically at the rope.
‘Nick. Run! Leave me!’
I stood up to see one of our captors only a few feet above us. Then I heard a shout from his friend behind him, and the sharp crack of a pistol.
I glanced at Isabel. Her eyes pleaded with me to run. Should I stay with her? Would I be better able to free her if I was with her or if I escaped?
God only knew.
‘For God’s sake, go!’ she screamed.
I ran.
I tumbled further down the path, and glanced back. I could see both men had stopped by the bush where Isabel had snagged her hands. I prayed she’d be all right.
I ran on, scratching myself on branches and stones, following the faint path downwards. After about ten minutes I paused to listen.
I couldn’t hear anything above the nocturnal din of the forest. I wasn’t being followed. I slumped down by a tree trunk and caught my breath.
Above me, tall trees obscured the night sky, vines dangling down from their thin branches. The floor of the forest was dark, murky and damp, with all kinds of mysterious vegetation crammed thickly together. There was no question of venturing off the path. I couldn’t go far with my hands tied like this. But if I followed the path to its end, perhaps where it spilled out on to a road, wouldn’t they just be waiting for me? I had no choice. I had to press on before they got themselves organized.
I was relieved to see that the path continued downhill. I knew that if you became lost walking in the Scottish Highlands, the thing to do was head downhill. Eventually you would reach civilization that way. The theory should hold in the Brazilian forest, shouldn’t it?