Monkey Business (17 page)

At least I was more comfortable. The stiletto boots were too big, but easier to walk around in than the strappy sandals. It was hot in the lycra Catwoman suit, though.

And then, there was an explosion. The house shook; there was shouting. I stood with my ear to the door. Maybe Kitty
had
caused a distraction? The noise was coming from the front of the house. I opened the door a crack and peered out. My guard was standing there, his back to me, staring up the passageway.

I didn't stop to think. I grabbed the three wise monkeys, snuck up behind him and whacked him over the head. He dropped with a grunt. I raced back into the room, snatched up my bag and stood in the passageway again. Now where? Not to the front of the house, that's for sure. I ran in the other direction. A door opened and I dashed through another to my left, shutting it, listening as feet ran past.

I squatted behind the door, holding my breath, waiting, wondering why my stomach was growling so loudly but knowing really that was just denial working overtime because the part of my brain that was still functioning knew the growling was coming from behind me. I turned slowly, couldn't see in the dark. Couldn't even work out what room I was in. It was windowless. But then the door opened, knocking me over, trapping me against the wall. I held back a yell as light flooded the room and I saw two dogs, big ones, saliva dripping from their fangs, snarling at me. Someone shouted at the dogs and they leaped forward. I wrapped my arms around my head and squeezed my eyes shut, but then the room was quiet and still. And dark. The dogs were gone. As my eyes adjusted, I could see a thin line of light that formed a square in the opposite wall. I crawled across the floor and touched the square. It moved. It was a doggy door, and it was big enough for me to crawl through.

I crouched at the corner of the house, under the balcony. I could hear muted party sounds. There was a lot of shouting, but the party carried on as though explosions were normal. Maybe they were. Above me I heard the
shoosh
of a sliding door, the party volume increased, and another
shoosh
as the door closed again. I pressed against the house and peered up through a crack in the decking. It was Mick Jansen and a giggling woman. He lit a cigarette. A joint? They stood at the edge of the deck and he unzipped his fly. Oh, God, were they going to have sex up there? But a thin stream of yellow pee appeared in front of me. Jansen finished peeing, and
then
they started to fool around.

Down the sloping ground, not far away, I could see a cyclone-wire fence. Jack was on the other side and I knew I could climb it – that wasn't the problem – but there was the small issue of men with guns and vicious dogs. Not to mention Mick Jansen above and, oh goody, something I'd heard only once before, when I visited Steve Irwin's zoo. I shivered as a deep, guttural growl reverberated through the ground and up my legs. The crocodile sound came from another fenced area and I made a mental note not to go that way.

Jansen and the woman stumbled around on the deck. In the distance, black smoke billowed in great puffs with the light wind. I could smell burning rubber. Men were still shouting and running, dogs barked hysterically, and the crocodile – I could see it now – moved its head slightly to the side. Maybe the crocodile was the best option? It looked so lazy and cumbersome. But then its whole body lifted and it ran like a speeding lizard into the water.

And so did I. Run. I bolted for the fence and clambered up it, hoping Jansen would be too preoccupied to notice me. I fell over the top, but then I was hanging. Hanging by my bag hooked on the fence. I kicked my legs. I could hear shouting from the front of the house. I straightened my arms over my head and they slipped through the bag straps as I fell. I hit the ground in a crouch, climbed back up for my bag.

There was a terrible growling behind me and I spun around. A big, brown dog was sprinting straight for me, teeth bared, its snarls wet and gasping. I scrambled back up the fence. The dog flew at me, snapping, barking, foamy saliva flying. I hoisted myself higher and hung one arm over the top, vaguely aware of the pain of it, kicking out at the dog, wondering if rabies was a horrible way to die. It had the heel of my boot and it shook its head wildly.

‘Sit!' I shouted and the dog stopped its attack and sat. We stared at each other. ‘Um, you want walkies?' It cocked its head – a picture of innocence – smiled at me with its tongue flopping out the side of its mouth.

I couldn't keep holding on, and I couldn't go back over the fence. I let myself down slowly and the dog leaped at me. I held out my hands to protect myself, but it wasn't biting. It jumped on me, tail wagging.

‘Sit!'

The dog sat and I wondered how many languages it knew. I looked around.

‘Okay, then. Walkies.' I jogged down the hill, keeping to the side, to where I could see the boys' bamboo cages in the distance. Fido bounced along beside me. As I approached, I saw three guards unconscious on the ground in pools of blood (maybe more than unconscious), one empty cage and Joe in the other, trying to kick it open.

‘Joe!'

His eyes popped. ‘
Erica?
What the hell?' He looked around, up towards the house where most of the people seemed to be gathering.

Fido barked.

‘Ssh! Where's Jack?'

‘Gone.' Joe kicked the cage again. It was cracking, starting to give way and he said, ‘Stand back!' as a corner of the cage floor dropped away, making a gap big enough for Joe to slide through and onto the ground, a couple of metres below.

‘Where is he?' I demanded. ‘How did he get away?'

Fido snarled at Joe.

‘Sit!' I said to the dog. But then all the shouting and noise was heading our way. Men were running from the house towards us!

‘Let's go!' said Joe, taking me by the wrist and hauling me into the trees. The dog ran with us. Machine guns fired and bullets whistled past us, exploding into tree branches. Fido yelped – I didn't look. Joe dragged me behind him. I kept my head down and arm up to take the hits and slashes from the whipping branches. We reached a high wall. Joe scooped me up and pushed me over the top, arms and legs flailing. I landed on my feet with bent knees and fell onto my side, stood quickly and Joe was next to me in a flash, pushing me along. I could hear bullets thumping into the wall, and I stumbled along, my feet skating back and forth in my big, Catwoman boots. I'd definitely have blisters.

Joe and I ran away from the property and roads and all forms of civilisation, up a steep incline and deep into the jungle, crashing through foliage and tripping over tree roots. I wasn't capable of considering or caring about orange frogs or the variety of other things that could drop twenty men just by looking at them. I ran until my lungs burned and finally I fell on my face onto the soft, wet ground, heaving and sucking in air. Joe tried to hoist me up but I smacked him away. ‘Go,' I gasped. ‘Leave me.'

And then the sobs came, my whole body shaking. I curled into a ball on my side, wrapped my arms around my head and cried. After a while Joe's hand was on my shoulder, squeezing it. He lay next to me on his back, breathing hard. I finally sat up, wiping my face, and pulled the bag off my back, finding my bottle of water and holding it out to Joe.

‘You first,' he said. ‘Water won't be a problem.'

I took a drink and gave him the bottle. I said, ‘They're not coming after us.' The pursuit had ended at the wall of the property.

‘Too late in the day. They're afraid.'

‘What are they afraid of?' Apart from the obvious horrors.

‘Christ, Erica.' He stared at me. ‘What the
fuck
are you doing here?'

‘I came to rescue you.'

He let out a laugh and then shook his head. ‘I shouldn't laugh.'

‘No, I don't think you should.'

‘How did you get to Samson's?
Why
were you there, by the way?'

‘Long story, Joe.' Where to start? ‘How did Jack escape? I saw him from the house in the cage.'

‘A woman. She shot the guards and took Jack.'

‘What woman?' I said, but I already knew. ‘Kitty!'

‘Yeah. We met her in Seni.'

‘You
met
her?'

Joe nodded, took another mouthful of water and handed it back. ‘Jack tried to get information from her about Berringer.'

‘She didn't tell me. Why didn't she tell me?'

He shrugged.

‘Did she give it to you? The information?'

‘No, but she offered . . . something else.'

I knew exactly what Kitty would have offered Jack. ‘Did he —'

‘No.'

The thought of him with Kitty!

‘Why didn't she rescue you, too?' I said. ‘Why did they leave you?'

‘She had a gun. Jack tried to convince her to release me but she threatened us, saying she just wanted him.'

‘That'd be bloody right,' I mumbled, remembering her plans for a life in the jungle with someone handsome and strong. ‘Still, I'm surprised Jack left you.'

‘He had no choice. Another guard came and she shot him. They had to take off. Jack would've come back.'

‘And then there was the explosion.'

He looked at me, sceptical. ‘Did you do that?'

‘Me? No, I thought it was Kitty.'

Joe shook his head. ‘We need to get going. Here,' he said, holding out a hand. ‘Give me your boots.'

I unzipped them and when I pulled them off, the relief was instant.

Joe snapped off the heels and handed them back.

‘I don't think I can wear these,' I said. ‘They're way too big and they're killing me.' I inspected the puffy red circles on my heels.

‘You'll have to.' He ripped the sleeves off his camouflage shirt. ‘It's just pain, Erica. Put it out of your mind.' He handed me his shirtsleeves. ‘Here, wrap these around your feet.'

As I pulled the sleeves over my feet, tucking the ends under my toes, I thought about Kitty and how she'd made me change clothes with her. ‘Bloody Kitty.' Why did she do that? Of course. She wanted to wear the skimpy dress for Jack!

The jungle chirped, squawked and sang around us. Buzzed, slithered and rustled. I kept looking around and behind me, but not for humans. Joe walked ahead slowly and I followed. I told him what had happened with Phil Collins and Dwayne from the plane and Rupert Berringer and Samson and Kitty. He kept looking at me over his shoulder with raised eyebrows, as though he might see something in my face that suggested I was making it all up.

I said, ‘And guess who was at Samson's cocktail party.'

‘Mick Jansen.'

‘How did you know?'

‘He's the reason Jack was captured in the first place. He teamed up with Berringer.'

‘What, he just flew to Saint Sebastian and introduced himself?'

‘In a way, yes. He'd done some time here with the air force; he knew people. It was the best way he could pay Jack back.'

Guilt engulfed me. If I'd never pointed the finger at Mick Jansen, this wouldn't have happened. ‘How did you get caught, Joe?'

‘Trying to rescue Jack.' He shook his head, muttered, ‘Idiot.'

As we walked I kept running into the back of Joe and stepping on his shoes because I was so busy looking around for crawling, slithering things.

‘Are you all right?' he said.

‘No.'

‘Can I do something?'

‘Call for a helicopter? An Australian one, preferably.'

The Catwoman suit was like wearing a sauna. Lycra in the jungle. Good name for a song. But not good for my situation. I was really happy with my haircut right now.

Apart from the buzzing, chirping, squawking, etc., there were cracking and crashing sounds way, way above us and I kept peering up, trying to see what it was.

Joe said it was falling branches. ‘You need to keep an eye out,' he said.

‘What's causing them to fall?'

‘Something sitting on them.' He shrugged. ‘Just nature doing its thing.'

‘What would be sitting on the branches? What's up there?' I couldn't see anything. It was too dark and too far away.

‘Monkeys, snakes —'

‘Snakes in the trees?'

Joe stopped suddenly and I bounced off his back.

‘Ow.'

He held up a hand. ‘Ssh.'

And then I could hear what he was hearing. A woman's chatter. A voice I'd come to know very well. I lunged forward, but Joe held me back.

‘Wait!' he hissed and we listened. Joe whispered, ‘Wait and see. Might not be them.' He pulled me into the shrubbery and we hid as Kitty's voice got closer.

I could hear her clearly.

‘I think you will enjoy living in the jungle with me . . .'

Then I could see Jack and my heart flipped with happiness. But he stopped walking, turned and gripped Kitty's shoulders; she put her arms around his waist. Was he going to kiss her? I shot out of the trees and slammed into her. She hit the ground and I straddled her, slapping her face.

‘You
bitch
!' I swung my arms, shouting, ‘You. Knew. All. Along. He. Was. Alive!' After a while I stopped hitting Kitty and sat there on her, panting. Her arms covered her face. There was a gun on the ground nearby.

Behind me I heard Jack say, ‘Were you followed?'

‘No,' said Joe.

Jack said, ‘Who's that?' and a pair of hands gripped my waist, lifted me in the air and stood me in front of him.

I flung myself at Jack, arms around his neck, sobbing into it. He was stiff. Didn't he know me? Finally he pushed me away, held me at arm's length, looked into my face. I was wiping the tears, laughing and crying.

‘Hi,' I said between hiccups and wipes.

‘Oh, no.' He reeled back. ‘No, no, no, NO!'

I stepped forward, reaching a hand towards him. ‘It's okay —'

But he covered his face with his hands, turned and walked away.