Part 4 (2/2)
”Oh, it's not so unusual,” she said hastily. ”You can probably pick one up in Tikal. In fact”a”she backed farther away from his solid, muscular bulka””I'm sure they have them. Cheap, too.”
He c.o.c.ked his head at her. It was a peculiarly boyish gesture very much at odds with the rest of him. ”In Tikal? Interesting. I've never seen one like it. Do you mind if I take a closer look?”
Before she could protest he'd liberated it from her belt and was turning it over in his broad, callused hands. Mac found herself watching his examination with reluctant fascination.
It really was as if he'd never seen a flashlight before. And that was crazy, because he wasn't unkempt enough to be the jungle hermit she'd thought at first he might be. His accent was as American as hers, with a slight lilt that might have been Irish. He spoke too distinctly to be completely wacko.
So, she admitted, she was still curious about him. Too curious. Too interested in a total stranger who was almost charismatically attractive but also arrogant and insulting. Not to mention strange.
And as for his resemblance to a certain photographa”could it be possible that he was a descendant of O'Shea's? No. O'Shea had died without children to carry on his name. Mac felt instinctively for the pendant around her neck and remembered that it had been lost in the tunnel, along with Homer's cap.
She was lucky that was all she'd lost.
”If you don't mind,” she said, holding out her hand. He ignored it. Her Liam clone had become quite obsessed with switching the flashlight on and off, focusing the beam on the trunk of a tree and then the crumbled stone of a nearby building, drawing patterns with the light.
”How does this work?” he demanded, shaking the flashlight until the batteries rattled. ”Electricity?”
Come on. ”You knowa”batteries,” she said caustically. ”And they're going to be dead before I get back if you keep that up.”
He stopped suddenly and studied her with those piercing gray eyes. ”Batteries?” he repeated. ”This small?” He turned the flashlight upside down and located the little sliding panel to the battery compartment.
”Hey!” Mac made a grab for the flashlight, but he kept it easily out of reach and tucked it somewhere in the back of his belt.
Mac revised her earlier speculation about Liam's double. Maybe he was an exceptionally clean hermit. Or he'd been living in some country where they didn't have flashlights. Or he'd escaped from an asylum somewhere.
”Listen,” she said in a low, even tone. ”You can keep the flashlight as soon as I'm back in Tikal. I promise. Just let me use it to get there in one piece.”
”But you won't be going alone. I'll escort you there myself, and have a word or two with the man who left you.”
”Thanks, but I don't need your help, and there is noa””
He fixed her with a look that silenced her instantly. The only person who'd ever been able to do that to her was Homer, and she wasn't about to let this guy have the privilege.
”Excuse me, buta””
”I'm not your fool of a guide, Miss MacKenzie,” he said softly. ”You have two choices. Come willingly or be carried.”
He'd do it, too, of that she was certain. His tone brooked no arguments. Why he was so intent on ”helping” her she couldn't figure out, but she knew she wasn't going to get rid of him. She'd simply have to make the best of it.
And there was at least one good thing to be said for the mana”he appeared to know about the jungle. Maybe it wouldn't be so terrible to have him with her. Once in Tikal proper she'd be able to get to the hotel and ditch Liam Junior.
”All right,” she said. ”What do you suggest?”
”You do have some sense. Wait here.” He turned on his heel and strode back to the tunnel entrance.
Mac used the time to dig in her backpack for mosquito repellant and a potential weapon. There was a small Swiss Army knifea”her father's, sent back from Vietnama”but other than the flashlight, which her new friend had confiscated, that was about it. So if he attacks me I can give him paper cuts.
She lost her sense of humor when her would-be escort returned with a canvas bag slung over his shoulder, the unmistakable b.u.t.t of a gun sticking up from one of the pouches on his belt, and a wicked machete in his hand. A stained Panama hat sat on his damp hair.
”Do you think you can carry my haversack, Miss MacKenzie?” he asked with a frown. ”I'll need my hands free for the machete.”
The canvas bag didn't seem particularly heavy, but he clearly expected her to refuse. His impression of her was pretty mixed-up, and maybe that wasn't such a bad idea.
”Sure,” she said. ”No problem.”
He hesitated and pa.s.sed it to her somewhat gingerly. It took a bit of balancing, and she could feel several objects rolling around inside. Another potential weapon if it came to that.
”Are you sure you can manage it?” he asked. ”I can't have you losing it.”
”It doesn't exactly weigh a ton. I won't drop it, if that's what you're worried about.”
He gave her a dubious examination and decided to take her word for it. He lifted the machete; light glinted off the blade, and Mac flinched in spite of herself. He dropped his hand and scowled at her.
”Your prudence comes a little late, Miss MacKenzie, but there's no need to be afraid. I'm not going to attack you.”
His black expression belied his a.s.surance, but she wasn't about to betray another hint of unease. ”I'm not afraid. It so happens I know how to defend myself. And anyway, you won't need the machete once we find the trail.”
He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ”women” and ”irrational.” ”Stay well out of my way,” he commanded aloud. She stepped aside as he took a savage swipe at some hapless bush with his machete.
She had an urgent desire to grab the flashlight from his belt and brain him with it instead, but she obeyed. After two more energetic blowsa”considerably more powerful than those used by her guide earlier in the day, making an impressive display of the muscles in his backa”his motions became less choppy and more rhythmic, almost graceful. Mac kept watch for the original path. There was still not the slightest sign that it had ever been there.
The jungle closed in around them like a hungry predator. Almost at once the light faded, turned to false dusk by trees and bushes and every conceivable type of tropical vegetation. Mac reminded herself that any threat from the jungle's scaled and furred inhabitants was likely to be in her own mind. There was no way in h.e.l.l she'd let her gallant escort, with his strange att.i.tudes about women, know she was even a little bit nervous.
”Tell me, Miss MacKenziea””
Mac congratulated herself for hiding the way she nearly jumped out of her skin. He'd stopped to resta”not that he was breathing particularly hard, or sweating any more than she was. He was marvelously alive and strong and verya virile. Disturbingly so.
”a”now that we've established that you didn't come to the jungle alone,” he went on, ”how did you get to the Petn? You must have come by s.h.i.+pa”was it Champerico or Belize? What expedition of fools did you dupe into bringing you here?”
That line again. It was beginning to get a bit old. ”Oh,” she said, counting on her fingers, ”let's see. There was Allen Quartermain and Indiana Jones and Professor Challenger. Lord Greystoke couldn't make it at the last minute.”
The quiet lasted long enough to make her wonder if she'd finally gone too far. She glanced at his face, heavily shadowed in the faint illumination. He certainly seemed angry enough.
”I don't know them,” he said.
He didn't know them? Somehow she didn't think it would help to tell him it was a joke. A little distraction was probably a better idea. ”Uha”where did you come from? Originally, I mean?”
”San Francisco,” he said, distracted. ”I would have known if another expedition had arrived.”
San Francisco, yet? Curiouser and curiouser. Downright scary, in fact. Mac cursed her inability to cut her own way through this green perdition. It had taken nearly an hour to reach the mystery ruins from Tikal; the return journey wasn't likely to be any faster.
At least Liam's double was too preoccupied to question her farther. He pulled a compa.s.s from a pouch at his belt, consulted it, and started off again, as single-minded and tireless as an automaton. Mac concentrated on her footing in the mud and swatting mosquitoes while she balanced the canvas sack over her shoulder.
When she checked her watch again she was startled by the time that had pa.s.sed. They'd definitely been walking an hour; at this very moment they should be standing in the central plaza of Tikal. Unless he'd taken her the wrong waya ”Hey,” she said, slowing. ”I think wea””
Only some last-minute instinct kept her from walking into Liam Junior. He stood loose-limbed, the machete at his side, head lifted. Mac followed his gaze around a patch of jungle that appeared no different from all the rest.
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