Second Chances (29 page)

“The plane’s been delayed anyway,” said a familiar voice.

Miles turned to face the speaker; it
had
been Gideon behind the closed visor. Pierce seemed startled.

“Well, the hospital here isn’t equipped to deal with her injury; it’s barely got the basics.”

“There’s bad weather back at Eidolon HQ,” Gideon offered. “They’ve closed the airstrip and the storm is heading this way. I imagine we won’t see the plane for a couple of days.”

Miles couldn’t stop the anger from creeping into his voice. Bloody typical. He took a deep breath. “Look, you had enough gear unloaded from the seaplane when we arrived. How about ferrying some of that across at least. I need a wheelchair, drugs….”

“Dr Sutherland.” Pierce glanced around, “Clearly the damage here isn’t as bad as we first thought. I’m sure we can spare a few things, but our own supplies are limited. We can’t just duck down to the corner store to replenish our stock when we run out. No way can we give these people everything they want.”

Fuck the corner store.
Miles bit back the crude rejoinder. How dare she preach to him about resources in isolated areas. She knew his background. She knew that was what he had to deal with all the time.

“You surely don’t expect the locals to
buy
the things from you.” He waved his hand around. “These people have nothing. Can’t you see that?”

Pierce smoothed down the pleats of her skirt. “They certainly can’t treat everything we have as theirs.” She glanced briefly at the two armed men before addressing him again. “Dr Sutherland, tell them the island is off limits from now on. Anyone caught trespassing will be severely dealt with.”

Severly dealt with?
Miles shook his head and lifted his hands in a gesture of defeat. “Why tell me? I don’t speak the lingo.” He shrugged and turned to Jerri who just giggled slightly. Tommi shuffled his feet but remained silent.

Pierce’s voice grew more strident if that was possible. She was one of those people who thought saying something louder would miraculously overcome language barriers. “I’m serious, Dr Sutherland, if any of these natives are caught on Mystery Island, the men have orders to shoot.”

Miles became aware of muttering behind his back. He turned slightly and was surprised to find all his rugby playing opponents had joined him. From the expressions on their faces, they’d got the message even if they couldn’t understand her actual words. A few of them clutched the machetes they’d been using in the fields.

The bodyguard on Pierce’s left stole a quick glance at Gideon and then after noting a quick shake of the head, relaxed his stance. His hold on his own weapon eased a little too. Miles smiled to himself. Pierce was unaware of the silent communication between the men standing half a pace behind her. These two mightn’t shoot, but others might. No way could he afford that risk especially as he didn’t know who or what was on the other island now. He turned to face his former rugby playing partners. “No one to visit Mata Api Kisiwa without permission.”

The muttering increased, hopefully whatever he said was being translated by those who understood English. No-one objected. A sudden beeping noise cut through their voices.

Gideon glanced down and grabbed at the radio attached to his vest near the shoulder, speaking softly into it as he walked off out of earshot. As soon as the man was gone, Miles turned his attention back to the Eidolon representative. “Ms Pierce, do you have any concept of how poor these islanders are? They’ve got next to nothing here. They’re only just coping.”

Pierce bristled. “They’ve been living on Rapatoka for centuries without anyone else’ help.”

“But the cyclone wiped out a lot of their crops.”

“I’ll tell the next plane to bring in some extra bags of rice.”

Miles shook his head in frustration. Some things never changed. According to Caroline, before selling the island to Aaron Lightfoot, they’d learnt to survive on the bare minimum, keeping their population down, growing everything they needed and watching their resources. In a way, the resort had made them lazy. “There must be some things Eidolon can provide. Work at least?”

“We have our own employees, thank you very much. We don’t need anyone from Rapatoka.”

“But they need some way to make money, especially if you’re going to insist on them paying for whatever you bring in. They used to sell fish to the last owner, surely you’ll continue with that practice…” Miles could tell he wasn’t getting anywhere with the bitch. She seemed more concerned with what was going on with her men. Gideon had motioned for the stranger to join him, had taken him aside and was whispering in his ear. The man took off for the boat at a quick sprint, launched it and sped off. Gideon walked resignedly back toward them.

“What is it,
Mr. Sterling
? Where is that man going?” The venom in her voice as she addressed Gideon was unmistakable. Someone was in her bad books, Miles snorted under his breath, wondering what had got her knickers in a twist. Probably the disappearance of her way off the island.

Gideon took his time about answering. “
Ms
. Pierce, I have just had a call. My men have found the paramedic, Gillespie. Apparently he needs urgent medical attention.” Gideon turned to face Miles. “I’ve sent Clarke back for him. Bjornson has no idea of the full extent of Gillespie’s injuries, and we can’t fly him out, so right now…” he fixed Miles with an implacable glare. “You’re all he’s got.”

___________________________________________________

Mystery Island, around lunchtime 27th January

“Hello, can you hear me?”

Isn’t that my line
, Gil thought fuzzily. The proximity of the voice made his head hurt.

“Fuck, have you seen his arm? Is that a spear?”

“Shut it, Bull.” A pause, then louder, “What’s your name?” Gil grunted as a swift pain flared in the region of his collar bone. “Aha, still with us then.”

“Why did you pinch him?”

“Didn’t they teach you anything? Pain stimulus to see if he’s conscious.”

“How the fuck are we going to get him out of here?”

“We’ll think of something….”

@—}–—}——

An hour earlier….

“Where the fuck are we going?” Gareth Pritchard complained. “I was enjoying my day off.”

“You think we weren’t?” Ragnar Bjornson cuffed him on the shoulder playfully in passing. “The boss-man told us to make ourselves scarce until he and the Eidolon Bitch Queen were on their way. You can’t exactly say we’re working hard…” The tall Viking loped ahead of his mates as they rounded the far point of the long spit of land and headed back down the beach. Across the lagoon the bulk of Rapatoka rose, its peak much higher than the excuse for an island the men now stood on. Ragnar Bjornson couldn’t help thinking that one big wave was all it would need to wash the scrap of land they were standing on into the Pacific. Peace and quiet reigned at the moment, though. Even the ever-present wind had dropped and in the lea of the trees, the heat was intense. The lagoon was a calm pool amid the encircling walls of a long-extinct volcano. Around both islands lay the coral reef, hidden by a meter of water at high tide; the only way through from the sea was a twisting channel of deeper water that was only navigable by smaller craft and shallow-beamed barges. As a sea fortress, it was well nigh impenetrable.

“Why are we here again?” Ray Bullivant asked nobody in particular.

“Because it happens to be our current assignment, Fuckwit,” Pritch answered.

“Arsehole…”

“Bollock Brain.”

“Gentlemen, if you please.” Ragnar affected an upper-crust English accent. “Your behaviour is unbecoming to an officer of Her Majesty’s Special Boat Service…”

“Fuck off, Rag,” Pritch laughed.

Ragnar stopped and his gaze swept both men. “You know why we’re here…” He glanced out toward Rapatoka where his boss was currently chaperoning Pierce in her attempt to subdue the natives. “We’re here because Sterling specifically asked for us.”

“More fool him,” Bull replied, jokingly.

Rag looked back at his two colleagues and his expression was serious as he said “We’d better not let him down. Besides, if what he told me is true…” he paused thoughtfully.

“If what is true?” Pritch was curious. “What did he tell you, Rag?”

“Bottom line,” Rag’s gaze was steely. “If push comes to shove, our allegiances don’t lie with Eidolon, they lie with…Fuck,” he broke off as a noise reached their ears. All three fell immediately silent and dropped into a crouch, ears listening for any tell-tale noise while eyes roamed the area for available weapons, part of their awareness on movement that would indicate the enemy’s position. Someone was in the undergrowth nearby. Rag motioned to the others and they split up, silently melding with the trees. Moments later, a scruffy dog emerged from the treeline, spotted Rag and wuffed happily. Rag relaxed and called to the others. “It’s okay, guys, our spy is a mutt.”

“Isn’t that Sutherland’s dog?” Pritch offered.

“How do you know?” Rag asked.

“It’s not rocket science. I’ve seen the teacher’s dog, and he ain’t it. Sterling said there were only two dogs on the island so, unless he was lying, that makes this one the doctor’s.” Pritch bent to ruffle the dog behind his ears. “Rufus? Roofie, isn’t it?” The dog yapped excitedly. “So what are you doing all the way down here?”

@—}–—}——

Voices roused Gil from his stupor. He frowned, not understanding where he was. His head ached and he felt vaguely sick. Above him, light filtered into the hole but the dark walls blurred around him. Shit, it wasn’t a nightmare…

Suddenly, the voices grew louder and earth scattered on him. People were climbing into the pit, a dog barked and a light filled the darkness. Voices were talking to him, a sudden pain flared, hands were on him…

@—}–—}——

“Damn, he’s lost consciousness,” Rag pressed his fingers into the man’s throat, feeling the rapid pulse beat. His skin was pale and cool to the touch.

“Who is he?” Bull frowned. “Is it Sutherland?”

“It’s Gillespie, the paramedic. Sutherland is older, has a beard, red haired. Didn’t you read the files? Besides, where the hell were you when we were playing cricket? This guy is the one who wanted the boss to mount a search for the missing doctor.”

“Didn’t take that much notice,” Bull grunted, defensively.

“That’s irony for you.” Pritch shrugged. “We’re rescuing a paramedic?”

“Bull, get above ground and call Sterling,” Rag ordered. “Let him know we’ve got a situation.” Bull nodded and grabbed the rope they’d rappelled down on, pulling himself up and out. It wasn’t far, just awkward. “Pritch, once Bull is out, help me get the rope around our patient, will you? If we get it under his arms we can belay it round a tree up top and haul him out of here.” Rag was rapidly checking their patient for other injuries, although apart from a bloody bruise to the side of Gillespie’s head, he didn’t seem to be suffering anything else. The arm wound was the worst. Rag had seen things like it before. The man seemed to have triggered some kind of trap on his way down. It was a spear with an ugly barbed point that had driven through the forearm, lodging between the bones. That would mean infection, if nothing else. As far as Rag could tell there were no broken bones although Gillespie’s left ankle was badly swollen.
Could be a hefty sprain.
Rag had to hope there was no internal bleeding from the fall. That was often a bugger to detect and he had very little experience there. He knew he was taking a chance getting the man out on the end of a rope, but he had little choice.
Damn it
, Rag thought,
getting him out of here will be the easy bit. He needs a hospital.

Less than an hour later they were carrying Gillespie into the HQ. Bull had failed to raise their boss, and Rag was unhappy. Either Sterling had switched off his radio or something else had happened.
Was there something interfering with the signal?
Rag had to admit he was worried. Their patient was drifting in and out of consciousness, rambling about dogs and hands and god knew what else.

Rag spotted Harry Garvey in the room they had designated the IT suite and called to him. “Hey, Garv’, a little help here,”

Garvey stuck his head out of the door and watched them carry their patient along the corridor toward their dormitory. “What the fuck happened?” he asked.

“Gillespie, the paramedic, got himself in the shit. We can’t get hold of Sterling…”

“Has he switched off his comms?”

“No idea.”

“I’ll see if we can do anything. If something is jamming the signal we might be able to block it and boost it from here. Otherwise he’s probably offline. Might be able to ping his PDA though, if he has it on him. The distance isn’t that great. We might be able to transmit…” He disappeared into the room, still muttering, navigating between islands of computer monitors and banks of small TV screens. There was still a lot to do to get it all sorted, but between them, Lyle and Harry had managed to fit together enough that Harry knew the job of contacting their boss ought to be achievable.