Bear Grylls - Ghost Flight

It was time to make for shore.

After studying the waters intently from their vantage point high above, Puruwehua had advised Jaeger exactly where to make splashdown. He’d chosen a point adjacent to an evi-gwa – a place where a tongue of land jutted into the river, ending in a sharp drop to deep water.

A few powerful strokes with arms and legs, and Jaeger made dry land. He hauled himself out and turned to check behind him. More and more stunned fish were bobbing to the surface, and his team – Indians included – were striking out for land.

Above him, the unmistakable form of Joe James spiralled in to make the last but one splashdown. James had Gwaihutiga strapped to his person, plus the folded kayak hanging on a line below him. The kayak hit first, James and the Indian followed, and they too unclipped themselves and struck out for land, James towing the kayak in his wake.

Last down would be Dale.

He’d remained on the high point filming the jumps, until the final man was gone. Then he’d powered down his camera, stuffed it into a canoe bag so as to keep it safe and dry, and shoved that deep into his backpack.

Jaeger watched him jump and pull his chute, floating towards the surface of the pool.

Suddenly, there was a yell of alarm: ‘ Purug! The fish! They are jumping!’

It was Puruwehua. Jaeger looked where he was pointing. Sure enough, a gleaming black form broke the surface and leaped high. In amongst the flash of glistening water Jaeger caught sight of its gaping mouth, lined with two rows of fearsome serrated teeth, below eyes that were staring wide and black as death.

It was like a miniature, and intensely evil-looking, bullet-headed shark, all powerful body and cruelly armed jaws. An instant later, the patch of water where Jaeger and his team had landed began to seethe and boil.

‘Piraihunuhua! ’ the Indians yelled.

Jaeger didn’t need the warning. He could see the black piranhas tearing into the dead and dying fish thrown up by his grenade blast. There were hundreds of them, and Dale was headed right for their very midst.

For a split second Jaeger was about to hurl a third grenade, but Dale was too low and he would be caught in the explosion.

‘Piranha!’ Jaeger yelled at him. ‘PIRANHA!’ He jabbed his hands at the water at his feet. ‘Land here! Here! We’ll drag you in!’

For a horrible moment he feared that Dale had failed to hear him, and that he was about to plunge into the centre of the feeding frenzy, where his body would be stripped of its flesh in seconds.

At the last moment Dale made a tight left turn – too tight – and came whooshing in towards where Jaeger and his team were standing. He approached too fast and at the wrong angle, his chute striking the treetops where they reached out over the water.

The topmost branches splintered under the impact, and Dale became stuck fast, dangling over the water, swinging to and fro.

‘Let’s get him down!’ Jaeger cried.

His words were drowned out by an explosive crack from above, as the main branch holding Dale snapped in two. He plummeted downwards, his chute ripping as he fell, and moments later he hit the water.

‘Drag him in!’ Jaeger yelled. ‘GET HIM IN!’

All around Dale he could see powerful black shadows darting to and fro just below the surface. All it would take was one bite and the taste of blood, and the piranha would realise that Dale was prey. It would send a signal pulsing through the water to the entire shoal: come and eat, come and eat.

Alonzo and Kamishi were nearest. They dived in.

Even as they hit the water, Dale let out a fearful scream. ‘Shit! Shit! Shit! Get me out! Get me out! ’

A stroke or two across the pool, and the two men grabbed Dale by his harness and hauled him towards the bank. His eyes wide with terror – and pain – they dragged the screaming cameraman out of the water.

Jaeger bent to inspect him. Dale had been bitten in several places. He’d gone as white as a sheet, mostly with the shock. Jaeger could hardly blame him: a few seconds more and he would have been terminally chewed. He asked Leticia Santos to do her stuff with the medical kit as Alonzo and Kamishi issued their own damage reports.

‘Man! Freakin’ fish bit me on the ass!’ Alonzo complained. ‘I mean, what kind of fish does that?’

Joe James stroked his massive beard. ‘Piranha, dude. Don’t ever get back in the water. They got a taste for you now. They’ll smell you coming.’

Kamishi glanced up from where he was inspecting a wound to his thigh. ‘I would like to know if this fish tastes as good as it clearly thinks I tasted.’ He eyed Jaeger. ‘I would like to catch one and eat it, preferably with some wasabi sauce.’

Jaeger couldn’t help but smile. In spite of everything, morale still seemed high among his team. Despite being hunted by Predator and piranhas, they were on message and sparking.

He turned to the next task in hand. ‘Narov, James – let’s ready the boat.’

Together the three of them unfolded the Advanced Elements kayak, inflated it and got it into the water. They loaded it with a few rocks for ballast, and added some of the bundled-up parachutes for bulk. Finally, Narov threw in her backpack plus weapon and climbed aboard.

She was about to paddle off, heading for the point where the Rio de los Dios snaked off into the wall of thick jungle, when she turned to Jaeger. She eyed the scarf he had knotted around his neck; Santos’s carnivale scarf.

‘I need something to wrap it in,’ she remarked. ‘The tracker device – to shield it from any impacts. It is delicate; it needs cushioning.’ She held out a hand for the scarf. ‘That – it is a useless piece of decoration, but it is perfect for my needs.’

Jaeger shook his head. ‘No can do, I’m afraid. Leticia told me it’s a lucky charm. “Lose my scarf, darling, and it brings bad luck on you all.” She was speaking Portuguese, so you probably missed it.’

Narov scowled. The scowl became a sulk.

Jaeger was heartened. He was needling her. Getting right beneath her skin – which was about the only way he figured he would ever start to unpick the enigma that was Irina Narov.

There was so much about her that didn’t add up: her bizarre attachment to her knife; her fluent German; her seemingly encyclopedic knowledge of all things Nazi; her burning hatred of Hitler’s legacy; not to mention her seeming lack of emotional literacy or empathy with others. One way or another Jaeger was determined to discover what made Irina Narov tick.

Without another word, she turned moodily and dipped her paddle into the piranha-infested waters.

Once Narov was a good distance away – the current starting to pull and tug fiercely at her kayak – she headed into shore. She climbed out of the craft, took the Night Stalkers coin from her pocket, switched the tracking device to the ‘on’ position, and taped the two halves together with black gaffer tape.

Then she popped the coin into a waterproof Ziploc bag, dropped it into one of the kayak’s secure stowage compartments, and went to shove the craft out into midstream.

For an instant, she hesitated.

An idea – a spur-of-the-moment flash of inspiration – blazed through her eyes. She rifled in her pack and retrieved one of the small pay-as-you-go cell phones she kept in her grab bag. She carried a few for emergency communications if she were ever forced to go on the run.

She switched the phone on and threw it into the Ziploc bag alongside the tracking device. She doubted if there was a cell phone tower anywhere within a thousand kilometres of where they were now. But perhaps it didn’t matter. Maybe the simple act of calling for a signal would be enough to get it detected, traced and tracked.