Forever (85 page)

Only fifty yards, she told herself. Only
fifty yards . . .

But fifty yards of straight path, with no
brush to hide behind, nothing to provide refuge. Fifty unobscured
yards of -

The thought popped unbidden out of
nowhere.

-shooting gallery.

With me as the sole target.

Fear gave her the impetus to move.

Clenching both fists, she burst into a
high-kicking fifty-yard dash. Keeping her head up and her slitted
eyes straight ahead, she ignored those faces of petrified torment.
Her legs literally flew. Her chest pumped like a rapid bellows.
Fifty yards was soon reduced to thirty, then twenty, fifteen, ten,
five -

-a stone gave way under her right heel, her
ankle twisted, and down she went.

For a moment, she just lay there, winded,
elbows and knees scraped, hands cut and bleeding, her twisted ankle
sending out a message of excruciating pain. Shaking her head to
clear it, she raised her eyes to the safety of dense jungle foliage
taunting her from a mere five yards away.

Five yards, she thought miserably. Just five
more yards, and I'd have been there.

She tried to kneel, and let out a yelp. God,
that ankle hurt! Looking around, she spied a sturdy, yard-long
stick lying not three feet from her.

A serendipitous find.

Reaching out, she grabbed it and used it for
leverage to thrust herself to her feet, where she swayed
unsteadily. After a moment, she steadied herself and sneaked a
glance back over her shoulder.

A cry rose in her throat but never made it
past her shocked vocal cords. She could barely make out the
rain-blurred shadow of a man, but there he was, standing at the
entrance to the two cliffs.

Only forty-five yards behind me! she
realised. God -!

Her mind replayed the moment the arrow had
whistled past her, slamming into Johnny's shoulder. Even now, she
could hear the thump of the impact, and shuddered.

'Noooo!' Her cry rose from deep within her
gut and set her body into motion without conscious thought.

Using the stick for leverage, she swung
herself in swift limping arcs. Her twisted right ankle sent
knife-like stabs through her leg, but she almost welcomed the pain.
It proved she was alive.

Five yards. Then four, three, two, one -
safety! Back she crashed into the dense jungle, lost to his sight.
Once again, her allies were the branches twisted in strange
embraces, the labyrinth of menacing bracken, the monster brush and
malevolent leaves which whipped her face and drew blood.

But each step extracted an almost
unendurable pain - pain which shot through her ankle, pain which
burned her cut cheeks and hands, pain from the relentlessly
battering, stinging downpour.

But she would not stop, could not stop! She
was no longer guided by her mind, but by an instinct for survival
as old as time itself. She was on autopilot, driven by adrenalin
and fear.

Colonel Valerio found himself walking
slowly, head tilted back in amazement as he stared up first at one
cliff face, and then the other. Christ, he thought, what is this
fucking place?

In fact, he'd become so distracted and
mesmerised by the ugliness that at first he'd actually missed
seeing Stephanie.

Then, when he did notice her, she'd been
limping off into the jungle, and it was too late to line her up in
his sights. Her limp had not gone unnoticed.

So she's hurt, he thought with smirking
satisfaction. Serves the bitch right.

Then he stood still, hands on his hips.
Something was bugging him. He was right on her tail, and it
wouldn't be long before he'd catch up with her. Normally, that
should have aroused his hunter's instincts. Instead, he felt
peculiarly wary. Then he realised why.

She's luring me somewhere! he thought. Why
else would she leave such a crude trail for me to follow?

Colonel Valerio had had enough. There had
been moments when he'd felt a reluctant admiration for Stephanie
Merlin's spirit and inventiveness. Not any more.

Ignoring the stone faces, he marched
purposefully past the cliffs and then pushed his way into the dense
green jungle. He wasn't about to let a woman play games with him.
Shit, no. Time I showed her who's boss. Let her see what happens to
people who think they can fuck around with me.

Had Stephanie known Colonel Valerio's
suspicions that she was luring him somewhere, she would have been
the first to deny it. In truth, she couldn't have given a plausible
explanation for why the grotto was the one place she believed would
afford her protection. Yet that was precisely where her instincts
were guiding her.

She came across the next folly even sooner
than she had expected. It was the stone wall with the Gothic
archway.

At last\ she thought with a flood of
exhilaration and relief. I'm almost there now. She remembered that
through that arch was a kind of large courtyard - and a door set
into the hillside.

The nearness of it made her move faster.

She was almost home free. At her refuge.

Her grotto.

Suddenly she wondered what she would do once
she reached it.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Ilha da Borboleta, Brazil

In the wind-buffeted helicopter, Eduardo sat
forward in his seat; wiped at the fogged-up windshield with his
sleeve, and peered down through the momentarily cleared arc left by
the windshield wiper. Almost instantly, the windshield was obscured
by another mass of exploding splats and streaky rivulets. He waited
for the metronomic rubber to clear another arc, and peered down
again.

Where -

Therel A hundred feet below!

Ilha da Borboleta.

It was all he could do not to let out a
whoop of triumph.

'Stay at this altitude and fly to the far
side of the island!' he yelled at the pilot, and pointed southwest.
'I'll tell you where to land.'

The pilot glanced sideways at him. 'Sure
hope you know what you're doing.'

Eduardo looked at him and thought, I sure
hope I do, my friend. I sure hope I do.

Stephanie clawed the tenacious vines loose
from the iron- reinforced door, adrenalin blessing her with a
physical strength she didn't know she possessed. Finally she
wrenched the last vine loose, and it joined the others blowing in
the wind like thick streamers of kelp.

Now for the door.

She grabbed the great rusted handle and
tugged. At first, the buffeting wind and rusted hinges offered
resistance; then it creaked open. Holding onto the heavy door with
her left hand, she used her makeshift crutch to swing herself
inside. Once she was in, the wind slammed the door shut behind
her.

The darkness was intense, blacker than any
night. She'd have to progress by touch - but keep clear of the
lethal electrical wiring.

What I wouldn 't give for a flashlight, she
thought. Whup!

Outside, something hit the door with such
explosive force she heard the wood crack and shake under the
impact; so lethal, it pierced the door and pelted her with
splinters. Around the arrowhead, thin shafts of daylight thrust
into the darkness.

Shit! Stephanie thought. He's right behind
me! I'd better get a move on -

And even before the thought registered, she
was already staggering with terror and haste downhill along the
wet, slippery wash of stone.

Outside, standing under the Gothic arch,
Colonel Valerio lowered his bow and smiled.

That was just to let you know I'm right
behind you, he projected silently. In case you 're feeling too sure
of yourself . . .

He was tempted to hurry across the courtyard
to see where the door led, but all in good time. There's no great
rush, he told himself. She's not going anywhere

'Here!' Eduardo shouted. 'Put down right
here!' He gestured frantically with his thumb.

The pilot nodded, and with the agility of a
juggler, dropped the helicopter towards the undulating ground,
adjusting the descent as they went. Grey became pale green and pale
green turned emerald. Then, with a shudder, the skids touched down
and the trembling sense of airborne fragility was exchanged for the
solid comfort of terra firma.

'Shut down and wait for me here,' Eduardo
yelled. 'I don't know how long I'll be.'

Then he had his door open and was gone.

'Hey, Meeeeerliiiin . . .' Colonel Valerio's
taunt rose on the rush of chill air which swept through the curving
tunnel. There was an

abrupt slam and the door to the hillside cut
off the cross-draught and the wind was stilled. 'Hey, Meeeeerliiiin
. . .' Without the rushing of the wind his voice became louder,
echoed endlessly in the stony confines:' . . . liiiiin . . .
liiiiin. . . liiiiin ..."

Stephanie froze. She could feel everything
inside her knot up and cramp. His derisive voice vibrated through
her, buffeted her like a physical blow, caused a tremor which
raised her hairs and sent ripples crawling along her flesh. Her
teeth were clenched with determination, as though to stifle any
cries, and she tightened her grip on her makeshift crutch.
Swallowing the sudden onset of nausea, she steadied herself and
forced herself to continue moving. One step at a time, she thought,
swiftly swinging herself along on her crutch. That's all it takes.
One quiet, careful step at a time . . .'

But even as she sped up her crutch swing on
the downhill-graded curve of tunnel, his voice never seemed far
behind, unnerving her, imbuing him with power.

'You gotta make things hard for yourself,
don't you, Merlin?' His voice had lost its cat-and-mouse taunt. He
sounded cool and confident, totally in control. She could hear his
boots squeak and squelch wetly.

She rounded another corner, and now the
darkness paled and became deep blue. Rain sounded loud again, the
rushing and splashing of water constant. A cool, eerily whistling
wind blew past her, chilling her with its ghostly tendrils.

Then she turned one last corner, and there
it was.

The grotto.

And that left the one remaining question:
Now what?

'MONNNNNIC A A A A A!'

Eduardo raced through the
quinta
,
throwing open doors and bellowing her name at the top of his
lungs.

'MONNNNNIC A A A A A!'

Through the dining room and loggias and Sala
de Hercules he sped, then up the graceful stairs, which he took
three at a time. From one wing of the mansion to the other he
searched, but only silence greeted him - the empty, mocking silence
of a house which has been deserted.

He leaped down the stairs and doubled back
outside, dashing from the terraces down to the lawn. He turned
several full circles on the spot, his impatient eyes desperately
sweeping the diorama for some clue, some inspiration. They have to
be around here somewhere, he thought.
Quinta
, pond,
helicopter, garden, jungle, the security compound? They have to be
around here somewhere.

Where else is there?

The grotto! he thought. If she managed to
escape, that's where she would be headed!

And something inside him scoffed: Yes, but
what if she didn't escape? What if you're wasting precious
time?

He stood there and turned another hesitant
circle. For once in his life, he was indecisive. Wasn't sure of
what to do. Which direction to take.

Jump back in the helicopter, check out the
security compound? Or head straight into the jungle for the
grotto?

He thought, Her life is in my hands. If I
fail. . .

His instinct told him to head for the
grotto. And he started out for it as fast as his legs could carry
him.

This was not the grotto of her dreams. It
had lost its magic and gained a new aura, a kind of malevolent
edge. In the rainy column of bluish daylight which poured in from
the open dome overhead, the grotto seemed smaller now, more
confining. And the mosaics and shell-clad busts were no longer
extravagant and fantastical but were soulless monuments created
from discarded carapaces - art crafted from death.

And then his voice came again, closer than
ever. 'Hey, Merlin! Are you ready? I'm cooooomiiiiing.'

Stephanie looked around in desperation,
tense as an overwound spring. Her face beneath the mud was taut,
ashen, pinched. The sheen of rain and perspiration sleeked her
skin; jittery nerves churned up bile in her stomach.

There had to be somewhere she could hide . .
. Where could she -

- there! That recessed niche there was the
darkest; it would afford the most protection. Instinctively, she
drew towards it. As she slid into its shadows, she realised it was
the very niche Eduardo had cautioned her about when she'd nearly
touched the frayed electrical wiring. She looked at the live cord
now, shrank away from it, flattened herself in the shadows.

Steadily, inexorably, Colonel Valerio's
voice came louder: 'Might as well give yourself up, Merlin. You're
dead meat anyway. They've hired a professional assassin to get you.
So why fight it?' His voice fell silent, gave her pause.

Professional assassin . . .?

Her breathing sounded ragged. Her heartbeat
was explosive.

There was no way out, she knew. She was
cornered like a rat . . .

Trapped. Trapped.

'They hired the same one I got to lay those
explosives in your dead grandpappy's apartment. What I hear, the
place was blown to kingdom come. So you're a lot better off with
me. Least there'll be something left to bury.' His laughter echoed,
bounced off one wall and then another and another and another . .
.

Explosives . . .?

Stephanie's mind reeled, struggled to absorb
the staggering information -

- and then he came into view. The Pearson
Spoiler bow was at his side, an arrow already in its drawstring.
Light from the open dome caught the knifelike edge of the arrowhead
and glinted like a sharp blue flame.