Dash and Dingo (37 page)

He tested it, but the rope had been bound tightly around the tree. If only he’d had a knife, he might have been able to slash through the rope and make his escape.

He waited with a sinking feeling for Hodges to make his presence known. Henry knew well enough by now that Hodges wouldn’t simply put a bullet in him from under cover, he would need to gloat over his triumph first.

Henry swallowed hard against the rope, so tight around his neck that he feared

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that Hodges meant to strangle him with it, inch by torturous inch, the better to enjoy his slow death.

“Well, we meet again, Mr. Dash Chambers Henry Percival-Smythe. In search of supplies? Or perhaps you’re just wondering where Dingo has got off to.” Hodges spoke from a position slightly behind Henry and to his right. “So Dingo was wrong about your little sortie down river. Did you know, somehow I suspected he might have been lying to me?”

Henry tried to turn his head, but the rope was tight against his neck, and it burned when he tried to move.

“Nothing to say to me? No greeting? That’s not very polite. I thought the British had better manners than we crude ‘colonials’.” Clarence Hodges stepped within range of Henry’s peripheral vision.

His eyes ached with the strain of staring sideways, trying to see what Hodges was holding in his hands.

“I thought this might come in useful to you,” Hodges said with a supercilious smile, his fingers caressing the handle of a knife that Henry recognized as Dingo’s.

Henry closed his eyes in anguish for a moment. If Hodges had managed to get that knife out of Dingo’s boot, it meant he had to be injured badly—or worse. “Where is he?” Henry demanded hoarsely.

Hodges moved in front of Henry, standing at a safe distance. “Your
cousin
Dingo was very reluctant to give this up to me, until I pointed out that I had you trapped. He seemed fond of you.
Unnaturally
fond of you.”

Noticing the use of past tense in referring to Dingo, Henry lunged against the restraint, grunting when the rope dug into his windpipe, stretching his hands uselessly toward the man who held him captive. “If you hurt Dingo—!”

“You’ll what? Rend that rope into shreds with your bare hands and come over here to teach me a lesson?” Hodges laughed. It was a chilling sound, echoing unpleasantly in the little clearing.

“If I have to,” Henry croaked. He squirmed ferociously against the rope.

It burned as it scraped his skin, but he felt a tiny bit of give. If he could keep Hodges talking, maybe he could actually earn some play in the rope and slip out from under it. “Why are you chasing us anyway?”

“I could give you the larger philosophical answer, the lecture about the rights of landowners and the interests of the government in the future development of the country. The Aborigines were bad enough, demanding

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that their ancestral lands be left alone, but thank goodness we’ve got past that roadblock.”

“What’s that got to do with us? Or the tigers?” Henry sputtered, appalled with the man’s callousness.

“The tigers are just a detail that needs to be finished off.”

“But you’re from here! Don’t you have any appreciation of the natural wonders—”

“Boring! You academics are all the same, thinking you know all the answers.” Hodges’s eyes narrowed, and he held the knife up, running his fingers over the shiny blade. “Which leaves the question, what am I to do with you?”

Henry’s gaze dropped to the gun in the holster that Hodges wore tight around his waist, and he licked his lips nervously.

“That would be too quick. It wasn’t quick with Dingo, and I see no reason you should have an easier time of it.” Hodges mirrored Henry’s gesture, licking his own lips and baring his slightly pointed teeth. “Besides, here we are in the great outdoors, far from civilization, where the pulse of nature beats raw and wild.”

He took a step closer, his eyes raking over Henry’s body. Henry became too self-consciously aware of the tear in his shirt as Hodges’s gaze lingered there. He squirmed, wishing he could hide himself from the lascivious inspection. Hodges was staring openly at his groin now, and Henry felt a low growl start at the back of his throat.

“I saw you with Dingo, you know. I’d wondered what he saw in you, why he chose you to….” Hodges murmured. “The, ah…
stories
I could tell about you should make you see the wisdom of cooperation. I could use a man like you, intelligent, clever, and completely under my thumb. You never know, you might like… working for me.” His voice was throaty, purring with power.

Henry had a moment of madness when he considered acquiescing, if only to get free from the rope around his neck, knowing that he could overpower the other man if only he could get close enough. He stared, mesmerized as Hodges came closer and reached out with a hand curved as if to cup his groin.

Without conscious thought, Henry swept his foot up, trying to nail Hodges in the crotch. Hodges jumped back and turned, catching the kick on his thigh and yelping. He bent over, pressing his hands to his leg, letting the knife fall unheeded to the jungle floor. “You’ll pay for that, Smythe! I might

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have expected that sort of stupidity from Dingo, not you. No one does that to Hodges!”

Henry wondered if referring to oneself in the third person was a sign of either madness or egomania. He didn’t like the look that glittered in Hodges’s cold eyes when the man finally straightened up.

“Yes, Hodges is going to make you pay dearly for that.” Hodges smirked at him, savoring the fact that he had Henry in his power. “Countless expeditions have been lost in this jungle. It’s a pity when it happens, but here in the savage wilderness, far away from other people, there are so many…

interesting
ways to die.”

“You’ll never get away with it,” Henry said hoarsely. He plucked at the rope with both hands.

Hodges watched his futile struggle with amusement. “Surely you don’t think anyone is going to come looking for you? It will be one more tragic accident, and every time another tourist goes missing, it just convinces other foolhardy souls that it’s not worth the trouble trying to chart the unknown.”

“You’re in the same boat as I am. Your guides are dead, by your own hand! Neither of us will be able to get back without Dingo. We both lost!”

Henry said recklessly. He blinked against the unbidden tears that stung his eyes when he hoped that Dingo had met with a quick death, maybe a bullet rather than suffering at the hands of this madman.

“Do you think Dingo is the only man who can find his way in this godforsaken forest? How little you know me.”

The angry glint in Hodges’s eyes warned Henry that the worst was yet to come. Hodges did not like the implication that Dingo was the better man at
all.
And he was fully capable of venting that fury upon Henry, especially if Dingo had passed beyond his grasp to torment.

Henry had come here, knowing that there was a chance of dying in the jungle; his father had been helpful enough to point that out to him before he’d ever left England. But he’d had such high hopes for this mission when all he’d wanted was to give the thylacine another chance at existence; then he had found Dingo, and it was as if an entirely new world had opened up to him, full of wonder, adventure, and a sense of
belonging….

The one thing he regretted most of all was that he’d never told Dingo that he loved him. And now it was too late. The thought of that gave him the fortitude to say, “Do your worst.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’d like that much. My worst is beyond what you could imagine,” Hodges said. He sat down on a fallen log and rubbed his

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bruised thigh absently. “Shooting you would be far too quick. I could just leave you here tied to the tree for the animals. But that would rob Hodges of the pleasure of watching you die. It might take several days, and the thought of your screams… delicious….”

Henry shivered at the slow, cruel smile that spread over Hodges’s face, wishing that he hadn’t stumbled upon the body of the guide in the forest. He had a good idea that he would enjoy the experience of it even less. A rebellious part of him wanted to point out that Hodges was more than likely to die here with no one to help him get back, but the reality of his plight kept him from doing so. The instability of Hodges’s mind was also becoming more and more obvious—had he forgotten that he had already killed Ev the same way? Or had he enjoyed it so much he wanted an encore of the performance?

And this time, there was no Dingo to sweep in at the last moment to effect a rescue. Henry was helpless in this man’s hands.

He resolved, no matter what Hodges did to him, he wouldn’t gratify him by screaming. He gulped in trepidation, hoping he could keep that resolution.

“I expect you’re thirsty, after all this running,” Hodges said conversationally. “And alas, I’ve only sufficient water in my canteen to get back to my camp, so I shan’t be sharing it with you. Besides, you can’t be trusted not to kick me so I mustn’t get too close.”

Henry wondered where this was going.

“There’s a convenient stream nearby, and I’m sure you’d suggest that after I let you drink, I simply refill my canteen and be on my way.” Hodges jerked his head in the direction of the water. “But alas. You might be able to work your way free, and although no one would believe your word against mine, I can’t have you planting any seeds of doubt about my absolute devotion to the interests of the government.”

“That would never do,” Henry said mockingly.

“I like your spirit. I suppose I can’t persuade you to change your mind about joining up with me,” Hodges said thoughtfully.

“I’m afraid not,” Henry snarled.

“You should be afraid.” Hodges smirked. “As you grow weak from lack of food and water, you won’t be able to do much to ward the animals off. I suppose that Dingo told you all about the entertaining way that the devils eat the carrion they find? They like to start at the anus and tear their way into the carcass.”

Henry swallowed. “I don’t suppose it matters much once one is dead.”

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“Perhaps he didn’t tell you that devils are not terribly persnickety about the state in which they find their meal. Unlike the vivisectionist, they don’t require a death certificate before ripping into a body. I’ve always enjoyed watching them at their food; greedy and savage little beasts, I assure you. I’ve always wanted to watch them up close. And now you are going to help me realize that ambition.”

“You’re going to just leave me here?”

“Naturally I’ll have to make it easier for them to find you. They can smell blood from over a half a mile away, you know.” Hodges looked down at the knife, which lay close to Henry’s feet.

Henry’s eyes brightened at the sight. If Hodges came closer he would at least have a fighting chance at vanquishing the man.

“I imagine you’d enjoy another chance at kicking me.” Hodges stood up and strolled out of Henry’s sight, before reappearing with a dead branch in his hands, which he used to drag the knife closer to him. In one smooth movement, he bent to pick it up and threw it unerringly at Henry.

Henry only had time to catch the glint of the metal before the knife was embedded in his thigh. He gasped, just managing not to yelp at the sensation of the blow. It didn’t hurt yet, it just felt odd. He looked down in horror as he felt something warm running down his leg.

Hodges seated himself again, his eyes riveted on the blood staining Henry’s trousers as if fascinated by the sight of it. “This shouldn’t take long.

Devils will come out even in daylight if an easy meal is on the menu.”

“You’re seriously twisted, you know that?” Henry gritted his teeth as the pain finally began; a dull throb that started to pound the beat of his heart into his flesh.

“And those precious thylacines you’re so in love with. You think that they would turn down a convenient buffet? Try telling them that you have their best interests at heart when those teeth are ripping your flesh, your blood running over their gaping maw….”

“If you admire them so much, why are you so intent upon killing them?” Henry taunted. “You seem have a lot in common with them.” As he expected, the fact that he had discovered Hodges’s crime seemed to enrage the man.

Hodges leaped to his feet, his hand on the sidearm in his holster. Henry smiled at Hodges, hoping to goad him into rash action. Perhaps the best he could hope for now was a bullet in the brain; at least it would end the sensation of his leg being on fire.

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Hodges controlled himself with a great effort, forcing a smile of his own. “Very clever, Smythe, but all your cleverness will be a moot point once you are dead. After all, if I am the only one to return from the interior, who is going to question my word?”

A rustle from behind him made Henry turn his head. He swallowed hard. It was difficult not to picture his gruesome end, devils tearing chunks of his flesh away while he screamed in pain. There was no question of remaining silent in the face of that kind of agony, no matter what his pride dictated. And he knew that Hodges was correct about the tigers joining in; it truly was a jungle where survival of the fittest ruled.

He caught a slight movement and took in a deep breath. The bushes seemed to be alive with the sound of animals moving restlessly about. Henry couldn’t decide whether it was better to just get it over with or if the cover of darkness would be preferable, when he would be unable to see the animals approach. Of course, Hodges most likely would light up the area with his torch for his own amusement. Even now his eyes were dancing with cruel excitement.

“You are a very sick man,” Henry said in disgust.

Hodges took a quick step forward, his lips parted and his nostrils flared with rage. “You call
me
sick? After what I saw you and Dingo get up to—”

“Maybe you’d better not get too close. The devils might fancy you for dessert,” Henry jibed.