Midnight Rainbow Read Free Page B

use his carbine or the automatic pistol, he’d give away their
     position. He preferred a knife, which was silent and deadly.
    He felt sweat trickle down his spine. God, if only the girl would have
     sense enough to keep her mouth shut and not start squawking when he hauled her out of
     there. If he had to, he’d knock her out, but that would make her dead weight to carry
     through vegetation that reached out to wrap around his legs like living fingers.
    He realized that he was fondling his knife, his long, lean fingers sliding
     over the deadly blade with a lover’s touch, and he shoved it into its sheath. Damn her,
     he thought bitterly. Because of her, he was back in the thick of things, and he could
     feel it taking hold of him again. The rush of danger was as addictive as any drug, and
     it was in his veins again, burning him, eating at him like an acid—killing him and
     intensifying the feeling of life all at once. Damn her, damn her to hell. All this for a
     spoiled, silly society brat who liked to amuse herself in various beds. Still, her roundheels might have kept her alive, because Turego fancied himself
     quite a lover.
    The night sounds of the jungle began to build around him: the screams of
     the howler monkeys, the rustles and chirps and coughs of the night denizens as they went
     about their business. Somewhere down close to the river he heard a jaguar cough, but he
     never minded the normal jungle sounds. He was at home here. The peculiar combination of
     his genes and the skills he’d learned as a boy in the swamps of south Georgia made him
     as much a part of the jungle as the jaguar that prowled the river’s edge. Though the
     thick canopy blocked out all light, he didn’t light a lamp or switch on a flashlight; he
     wanted his eyes to be perfectly adjusted to the dark when he began moving. He relied on
     his ears and his instincts, knowing that there was no danger close to him. The danger
     would come from men, not from the shy jungle animals. As long as those reassuring noises
     surrounded him, he knew that no men were near.
    At midnight he rose and began easing along the route he’d marked in his
     mind, and the animals and insects were so unalarmed by his presence that the din
     continued without pause. The only caution he felt was that a fer-de-lance or a
     bushmaster might be hunting along the path he’d chosen, but that was a chance he’d have
     to take. He carried a long stick that he swept silently across the ground before him.
     When he reached the edge of the plantation he put the stick aside and crouched down to
     survey the grounds, making certain everything was as expected, before he moved in.
    From where he crouched, he could see that the guards were at their normal
     posts, probably asleep, except for the one who patrolled the perimeter, and he’d soon
     settle down for a nap, too. They were sloppy, he thought contemptuously. They obviously
     didn’t expect any visitors in as remote a place as this upriver plantation. During the
     threedays he’d spent observing them, he’d noted that they stood
     around talking a great deal of the time, smoking cigarettes, not keeping a close watch
     on anything. But they were still there, and those rifles were loaded with real bullets.
     One of the reasons Grant had reached the age of thirty-eight was that he had a healthy
     respect for weapons and what they could do to human flesh. He didn’t believe in
     recklessness, because it cost lives. He waited. At least now he could see, for the night
     was clear, and the stars hung low and brilliant in the sky. He didn’t mind the
     starlight; there were plenty of shadows that would cover his movements.
    The guard at the left corner of the house hadn’t moved an inch since Grant
     had been watching him; he was asleep. The guard walking the grounds had settled down
     against one of the pillars at the front of the house. The faint red glow near