He looked up, trying to judge how far they had fallen. The slope was not quite vertical; he had bounced off several earthy steps as the rushing mud swept him down. The jungle at the top was hard to make out — thirty feet above? Forty? Not an easy climb, up or down, in the dark, slippery conditions.
But that did not mean he and Natalia were safe. Over the storm, he heard shouts from on high. Russian or Vietnamese, he couldn’t tell, but one thing was clear — they were getting closer. A shaft of torchlight stabbed out over the edge like a lighthouse’s beam.
Chase went to the dead woman. Where was her gun? He scoured the ground for telltale glints of metal, but saw only mud and stones.
No time to widen the search. He hurried back to Natalia and raised her to a sitting position, patting her cheek. ‘Natalia! Are you awake, can you hear me?’
Fore the first time, she responded, whispering something. Chase leaned closer, trying to catch it, but his knowledge of her language was too basic to understand what she said. ‘My name’s Eddie — your father sent me to rescue you,’ he told her, hoping her English was better than his German. ‘We’ve got to get out of here.’
She spoke again, her voice barely audible. ‘Mein Vater… my father?’ Her eyelids flickered as she tried to look at the man holding her.
‘Yeah. Can you walk?’
Natalia wriggled, but there was no strength behind it. ‘Nein, no, I…’ There was more, but it tailed away below the threshold of audibility.
‘Guess not.’ Straining as more aches and bruises made themselves known, he picked her up. Her head lolled against the radio headset, which had been partially dislodged by the fall. He nudged it back into place. ‘Hal, Hugo — can anyone read me?’
There was no response — not even static. He looked down at his belt to find the walkie-talkie missing, its headset wire dangling loose. ‘Shit!’ He turned, searching for any faint glow of LEDs on the ground, but saw none. The Motorola was either broken by the fall or buried in the mud.
They were on their own.
He still had his backpack, which meant he also had a map, but getting away from their pursuers was his highest priority.
The vegetation along the foot of the cliff was sparse. There were thicker trees off to his right — to the east, he worked out, remembering what the map had shown him earlier. Going that way would take him away from the extraction point, but they needed cover. Natalia’s white robe, even rain-soaked and dirty, would stand out clearly from above. Raising her higher, he started for the denser jungle.
More lights shimmered through the trees above the top of the cliff. The shouts were clearer, closer. There had been no more gunfire, which he took to mean that Sullivan’s team had got the other hostages clear.
What about Hoyt? The thought of the American set an ember of anger burning in his stomach. If he saw him again…
He put ideas of revenge aside. They were unprofessional, and he had more important concerns — like survival.
The boundary of the overhanging jungle canopy was about forty feet away. He lumbered towards it, feet sticking in the thick mud as if walking through a nightmare. Someone shouted urgently. Fear surged — had he been spotted? A glance back revealed the lights converging where the mudslide had rushed downhill. It would only be seconds before they realised what had happened and made their way to the edge of the ridge to look down…
Mud tugged at his boot. He pulled it free, almost losing his balance. Natalia gasped as she jerked back to wakefulness. He recovered and pressed on. Almost at the trees, wet bushes swatting at them as he pushed through. Another look back. The lights were picking their way down the slope towards the drop.
The rain’s pounding eased as Chase reached the shelter of the foliage overhead. But he still needed to keep moving until he and Natalia were blocked from view—
The beams lanced down into the valley as the searchers reached the edge. They swept across the undergrowth — then one flashed over him as a hunter’s sharp eyes caught movement. A shout. More lights locked on to the fugitives.
Gunfire—
Chase dived behind a tree, Natalia crying out as he landed on top of her. Bullets thunked against the bark. One of the Russians yelled furiously and the shooting stopped.
But now they knew where their prey had gone. And they would soon climb down to track it.
He risked a peek around the tree. The overhanging branches meant that the men from the camp no longer had a clear line of sight on him. That gave him a short window in which to move out and force them to search for his trail.
He picked Natalia up again. The thought of abandoning her did not even cross his mind. His job was to get her to safety, and he would do just that — or go down fighting.
The ground was muddy, but not as bad as it had been nearer the ridge. If he stayed close to the trees, he could use roots and stones to keep his footprints to a minimum. Which way? He tried to recall the map. The cliff ran roughly north — south, parallel to a nearby river…
‘Okay, hold on to me,’ Chase told Natalia as he headed in what he hoped was the right direction. She managed to raise one arm and cling weakly to his shoulder.
He made his way as quickly as he could through the jungle. His feet sought out the unyielding firmness of rocks and roots, but sometimes he had no choice but to cross soft, wet ground. With Natalia’s weight added to his own, his boot prints would not be hard to spot. All he could do was keep changing direction in the hope of forcing their pursuers to waste time reacquiring his tracks.
Minutes passed. His progress was as good as it could be given the conditions, but Chase was all too aware that Natalia was slowing him considerably. And a look back revealed torchlight in the distance — on the ground, not above. They had descended the cliff and were on his trail.
A new sound rose above the storm’s din. Running water. They had reached the river.
Chase emerged from the jungle on to its edge. The river was swollen by the downpour, white froth gushing around the bases of the trees where it had burst its banks. More pale splashes on the far side told him it was about fifty feet wide, but it was impossible to know how deep it was.
No choice. The sure knowledge that the Vietnamese and Russians were getting closer every moment forced him to commit to his plan. If he didn’t cross the river, not only would he be hemmed in, but there would be no break in his trail. They would quickly catch up.
‘Natalia?’ he said. She turned her head towards him. ‘The men who kidnapped you are coming after us. We’ve got to cross this river to get away from them. We’re both going to get wet. You understand?’
‘I already am wet,’ she sighed.
Chase gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘Okay. Just keep hold of me. Here we go.’
He stepped into the torrent.
Even with only a few inches of water covering his boots, he could still feel the relentless pressure behind it. He continued onwards. The river deepened with each step. No time to play games of bluff and double bluff with his pursuers to make them unsure if he was heading up or down the river; he needed to get across as quickly as possible, following a direct line to the far bank.
The rushing water was now up to his waist, every step a strain against the current. Cold spray splashed Natalia’s back. She gasped and tensed in his arms, the thin material of her robe providing no warmth. ‘Hang on,’ he said. ‘This is where it gets really bad…’
Another couple of steps — and the riverbed dropped away underfoot, plunging them both into open water.