Philip Caveney - The Tarantula Stone

She stared at him in mild disbelief and then, despite herself, she had to smile. ‘I’ll tell you the answer to that if and when we get out of this mess.’

‘Lady, you’ve got some style,’ observed Martin. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Helen. Helen Brody.’

‘Well, Helen Brody, I think you’re a brave girl. And now you can have your arm back.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t believe this conversation,’ she said simply; and she turned and made her way back to the rear of the plane, feeling better for having shared her problems.

‘What happens now?’ asked Claudio blankly.

Martin shrugged. ‘You got me, Mister. I guess we’ll just have to sit tight and sweat.’ He tilted his glass and drained the remainder of its contents. ‘Like the lady said, we can’t risk going in there. Even if we could kick the door down, the pilots would be dead before we could help ’em. Of course, the kid with the gun could be bluffing but I wouldn’t like to take that chance.’ He stared blankly ahead for a moment, then brought his fist down suddenly on his knee. ‘Of all the Goddamn flights I have to wind up on a Jonah!’

Claudio sighed. ‘I feel as bad about it as you do, but surely we aren’t going to sit here and do nothing?’

‘I don’t see what the hell else we can do; not while we’re still in the air. Maybe when we touch down at wherever it is we’re headed for …’ He glanced slyly at Claudio. ‘You carry a gun?’

Claudio shook his head. ‘There’s a handgun in my luggage; a couple of rifles too.’

‘Not much use to us there,’ observed Martin dryly. ‘Well, Claudio, you’re in luck. I just happen to have a spare pistol in my carpet bag here.’ He nudged the bag with his foot and Claudio raised his eyebrows slightly.

‘Do you always travel so well prepared for trouble?’ he inquired.

Martin declined to answer the question. ‘The way I see it,’ he continued, ‘the kid’ll have to come out this way when we land. If he comes past us, it shouldn’t be too much of a job to blow him away, though we’d have to be damned sure the pilots didn’t stand a chance of being hit.’

‘Why just the pilots? There are other people on board.’

‘Yeah, but we don’t need any of them to fly our way out of there. The trouble is, I can’t see the kid taking us way out into the jungle unless he’s expecting a sizeable reception committee.’

‘And what are we meant to do meanwhile? Just sit here and wait?’

‘Well, I can’t think of anything better, I must admit.’ Martin chuckled bitterly. ‘You know, Claudio, for a little while there I really thought that for once things were going to happen like I wanted.’

‘You found a diamond, didn’t you?’ said Claudio unexpectedly.

Martin choked on his own breath. He turned slowly to face the Portuguese. ‘Claudio,’ he murmured. ‘You keep saying things that make me very nervous. A little while ago, I suggested you might be some kind of detective. Bearing in mind that I had to kill the last guy who found out, I’d sure like to know what made you say that.’

Claudio’s dark eyes gazed back at him, frank and unafraid. ‘It was a very easy deduction to make, senhor . You must remember, I know the garimpeiros well, half of my work is with meeting them. I know too that there are only a small number of ways that a man can escape from that life. He can die … he can become ill with the maculo and be carried away on a stretcher … and just once in a while, he may find a diamond big enough to chance running with. You clearly do not fit the first two descriptions … so it follows that you are making a run.’ He smiled. ‘I can assure you that I have no personal interest in your find. Wealth holds no great lure for me. On the contrary, I wish you luck.’ And then he added, cryptically. ‘You will need it.’

Martin looked at Claudio. The man’s face was open, peaceful and somehow without the slightest trace of deceit. ‘I must be getting old or soft in the head,’ he muttered at last, ‘but I think I believe you. Still, just the same, I wish you hadn’t told me what you know.’

Claudio looked puzzled. ‘Why is that?’

‘Because if the diamond ever goes missing … it’s you that I’ll have to come looking for.’

Claudio smiled disarmingly. ‘Believe me, Senhor Taggart. You are probably looking at the last honest man in all of Brazil.’ He brightened a little. ‘At least there is one good thing to come from all this.’

‘Yeah? What’s that?’

‘The ones you are running from will never think of looking in the middle of the Mato Grosso.’

Martin grinned. ‘I guess I never looked at it that way.’ The point of no return had long been passed, the designated last fifteen minutes had elapsed fully an hour and a half ago and still Mike’s opportunity had not come. He glanced sideways at Ricardo. The young pilot remained slumped against his seat, his forehead matted with congealed blood. Apart from the steady rise and fall of his chest, there had been no sign of life since he had fallen. Meanwhile, the kid with the gun remained vigilant, standing just a few feet to Mike’s rear. It was silent in the cabin, for Mike had long since given up the idea of breaking the boy’s concentration by flinging questions at him. What he needed now, he mused glumly, was a miracle, an act of God; as if in answer to some silent prayer, one came along.

The plane began to lurch and buck alarmingly.

‘Hey, what’s this?’ snapped the boy suspiciously. He jabbed the gun barrel into Mike’s neck.

‘Relax, it’s just some air turbulence. We’re passing over a range of hills.’

The boy peered out of the window to validate this statement; then he became alert again as Mike reached for his intercom.

‘OK, leave it be. I don’t want any messing around.’

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.