Amazon Burning (A James Acton Thriller, #10) (28 page)

BOOK: Amazon Burning (A James Acton Thriller, #10)
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“And he
didn’t give an ETA on when this ‘help’ would arrive?”

Acton
shook his head. “Just that they
should
arrive before morning.”

“And I
assume this help is your Bravo Team buddies?”

“I
assume so, but I don’t know for sure.”

Leather’s
lips were drawn back into thin lines as he surveyed the village, the village of
over two hundred innocents who wouldn’t stand a chance against modern weaponry.

Laura
walked up to them, a smile on her tired face. “Tuk has gone back to sleep.
Kinti was wonderful, she apparently learned his language when she was a child
on a work exchange with a village near his. She thinks she might have actually
met him but she’s not sure, it was so long ago.” She stopped, eyeing Acton and
Leather, her smile disappearing. “What’s wrong?”

Acton
brought her up to speed, she too surveying the natives around them as he spoke.
“What are we going to do?” she asked no one in particular.

“It’s
almost dusk now,” said Leather, looking at the sky. “Leaving on the boat isn’t
really an option. If they’re indeed coming for us, then they’ll come either by
boat, or on foot. If I were them I’d say boat since their home base we assume
is a good three day’s hike from here. They could travel that distance in a fast
boat in a matter of hours.”

“So they
could be here at any time.”

“Or
never.” Leather waved one of his men over, a former SAS captain named Chester.
He briefed him quickly then pointed upriver. “Hike fifteen minutes upriver, set
up position and watch for any activity. Radio us if you see anything. If you
do, do
not
engage, hoof it back here as quickly as you can.
If
we
have already been engaged and captured, retreat and await the arrival of the
Delta team. If they’ve killed us all, get the bodies home. If they’ve captured
some of us, give them these GPS coordinates”—he showed Acton’s iPad to the
soldier who quickly wrote them down—“and tell them this is where we presume
their base of operations is. Understood?”

“Yes,
sir!”

“Now go,
and good hunting!”

“Yes,
sir!” Chester rushed over to the small camp set up by Leather’s men and moments
later reemerged from his tent fully equipped. He disappeared into the woods as
the rest of the team began to approach, their curiosity piqued.

Laura
lowered her voice. “What are we going to do, Colonel?”

“We
could retreat by boat. That would at least in theory protect the villagers. But
we also know they’ve killed or captured an entire village so it might
not
protect them.”

“It
sounds like they captured them,” said Laura, relating Tuk’s story about how he
had seen everyone gathered in the village center, all alive except for two.
“And one of the dead, a woman, it sounded to me by the way it was described
that she may have been tasered. Apparently one of the Panther People as he
calls them held out his hand and she shook as she hit the ground.”

“If
they’re tasing people then they want them for something.” Acton scratched
behind his ear. “Slaves?”

Leather
nodded. “That’s the only thing I can think of. Whatever the Venezuelans have
going on they must need labor for it, and if it’s so top secret that they’ll
kill to prevent anyone from knowing about it, they probably want to minimize
their own people which means laborers from the cities are probably out of the
question. Natives however wouldn’t be missed by anybody and don’t need to be
paid.”

Laura
shook her head in disbelief. “What the bloody hell do they have going on up
there that they would do such a thing? It can’t be illegal logging. That’s not
worth killing for, wiping out villages for!”

“I’m
guessing it’s something far more valuable than trees,” agreed Leather, ending
the conversation. “But now we need to make a decision. Do we leave on the boat
and possibly leave the villagers to be taken as slaves or worse, or do we stay
and try to defend the village, against a most likely superior force?”

“How
superior?” asked Acton.

“Their
boat would have to be pretty big to bring more than a dozen men, so I’m
guessing squad or platoon size, ten to twenty. And we’re seven, with one
wounded.”

“Correction.
We’re ten. Laura, Reading and I are all trained and can fight.”

Leather
grunted. “If these are truly Special Forces, especially
Chinese
Special
Forces, they will be
highly
trained, and brutal. They don’t fight under
the same code we do. You
will
have to kill them or they
will
kill
you. They’re not likely to follow the Geneva Convention. This will be a fight
to the total death.”

Acton
felt himself pale slightly as Laura grabbed his arm. He decided to let her
speak first. “I don’t see that we have much choice. These people have done
nothing wrong. We need to protect them if we can.”

Acton
looked at his wife with a proud smile as he placed his hand over hers gripping
his arm. He squeezed it three times.

I
love you!

“Agreed,”
said Acton. “Our priority is saving these people. Hopefully we’ll have the
element of surprise.”

“Very
well,” said Leather, his emotions well hidden leaving Acton to wonder if he
agreed with the decision. “I suggest you try and get the natives to leave the
village at once and take refuge as far into the forest as possible.”

Laura
nodded, immediately heading back to the communal lodge where the elders were.
Leather turned to Acton. “You see if you can get the boat crew to help. I’m
guessing they’ll sail within ten minutes.”

Acton
allowed himself a single, wry laugh. “I wouldn’t take that bet.”

He
watched as Leather left to brief his men, then returned to the boat to fill
Milton in on what had been decided.

Decided
for
him. A near cripple now in the middle of a war zone with no safe method of
escape.

I
never should have invited him on this trip!

 

 

 

 

Undocumented Landing Strip, Northern Amazon, Venezuela

 

Terrence Mitchell stumbled from the small plane, out onto the dirt
runway carved into the forest. As the plane was pushed into a small sheet-metal
hangar, he watched in awe as two vehicles drove toward them from the opposite
end of the runway, pulling massive camouflage netting between them. Within
minutes of their arrival there would be no evidence from the air of a runway
existing.

What was
even more stunning however was what lay to their left. A massive strip mine,
carved deep into the jungle floor. And overtop, similar, thicker, netting,
covering the entire area from prying eyes. Unless someone happened to fly
directly overhead, at a low altitude, they would never know it was there.

And
how many planes actually fly low over this area?

Mitchell
guessed few if any. He exchanged stunned glances with Jenny and Turnbull before
they were shoved forward by several armed guards, all dressed like the Special
Ops soldiers Turnbull had described earlier. As they entered a camouflaged
building built among the trees, the windows capped with large overhangs he
assumed were designed to prevent any reflection from the sun being seen from above,
he heard a cry from within the mine, and some shouting. As he peered below in
the fading light, he gasped.

Hundreds
of natives were in the pit, toiling under the supervision of uniformed guards.

“What’s
going on here?” he asked, unable to restrain himself, the sight simply too
horrible. “What are you people doing?”

“Nothing
that should have concerned you.”

The
voice, near perfect English with a hint of an accent, came from behind him. He turned
to see an Asian man in an impeccably maintained black suit, despite the
conditions. The temperature was quickly dropping with the sun, the humidity
still high, Mitchell already dripping from spots he’d rather not mention in
polite company. Yet this man seemed oblivious to it all.

“Who are
you?” asked Jenny, fear mixed with defiance in her voice.

He
pushed up against her slightly, drawing and giving comfort from the contact.

“I am Dr.
Chen. You are now my prisoners.”

“You
can’t do this!” exclaimed Jenny. “We’re British citizens! People will be
looking for us!”

“That’s
right!” Mitchell decided he better join in to deflect any anger that might be
directed at Jenny for speaking out. “We’re both British. And he’s American”—he
motioned toward Turnbull—“you can’t just abduct us like this. People know where
we are!”

Chen
smiled. “I can assure you, Mr. Terrence Mitchell of University College London,
that no one knows where you or your wife or your unfortunate new friend are.
This location is completely secure, and only a handful of people on the planet
know where it is actually located. Not many more know of its existence. You,
Mr. Mitchell, are quite alone right now, and I would highly suggest you
cooperate, lest you find yourself laboring in the mines for the rest of your
life.”

Mitchell
bit his lip shut, grabbing Jenny’s hand and squeezing it to try and urge her to
keep quiet, the secret of their connection apparently not much of one.

The room
was silent.

Chen
smiled. “Very good. Put them with the others,” he said motioning to the guards.
He pointed at Henderson. “Please follow me.”

Mitchell,
Jenny and Turnbull were herded in silence deeper into the facility then through
what seemed to be an enclosed breezeway into another building that contained
several jail cells.

The
misery on the faces of those already jailed pushed the last bit of hope he had
been clinging to out of him.

 

Dr. Chen stepped outside, the sun nearly set now, the slaves being
gathered together for the long drive up the spiraling road that rimmed the ever
expanding mine. It had been barely a blight on the landscape when he had first
arrived to take over three years ago, and now it was a going concern, pulling
out of the rock some of the rarest substances known to man.

The
technology sector was dependent upon these scarce substances, names like Lanthanum,
Terbium and Thulium barely known to the average consumer, yet their hybrid cars,
permanent magnets and medical x-rays wouldn’t function without them. And what
the public didn’t know, was that the world was running out of economical access
to these substances. Which meant that any find, no matter where, had to be
exploited until alternatives could be found. And if they couldn’t be found on
the surface of the planet, then companies and countries would turn to space.

Most
Americans thought the Chinese space program was a vanity play like the Apollo
program had been. Apollo was a race to the moon not for scientific or human endeavor,
but to beat the Soviets. The Chinese were happy to leave the world thinking
that their manned space program was simply a matter of national pride.

But it
wasn’t.

They had
already put men in orbit and they had plans to build a space station of their
own, a moon base, and eventual Mars base. All ahead of the Americans and now
inconsequential Russians. Not to be first, of that they were quite certain they
would be since America had bankrupted their economy. No, it was for the rare
earth elements contained in outer space. It was the Chinese plan to be the
first to be situated for mining asteroids, the moon, Mars, for the rare earth elements
they contained. Not for national pride, but for world dominance in the
marketplace.

The
nation that controlled the supply of the building blocks of today’s
technologies controlled everything, from consumer electronics to advanced
military weapons systems. And already China controlled 95% of the supply, with
the United States so distant it might as well not be on the scoreboard.

And
mines like this would allow them to secretly stockpile even more without the
world knowing, to use for their own domestic needs, leaving the world prices to
continue to rise as the earthbound supplies dwindled, and as China’s space
program marched on, unchallenged.

It made
him proud to be Chinese.

Imagine
what America could accomplish if it didn’t waste money on the silly trappings
of democracy? Of exercising its morality on the world and fighting wars for the
national interest, then wasting billions upon billions in the vain attempt at
nation building.

It was a
sad joke.

“You
were wise to bring them here,” he finally said to Henderson as he stood at the
edge of the pit, staring down as the lights shut off, the only remaining those
of the headlights of several buses bringing the natives to the surface. They
had cut a road from the Rio Negro to the mine several years ago, being careful
to make certain it couldn’t be seen from the air, the beginning hidden in an
inlet that was invisible to anyone passing by on the river. With it they had
sailed in all the heavy equipment and continued to get supplies along it, not
the least of which was fuel and explosives, something any mine such as this
needed in abundance.

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