Free Dark Ransom by Sara Craven Page B

bribe one of the caboclos to take her to
    safety.

    It all sounded desperately tentative, she acknowledged unhappily,
    but she had to grab at any passing straw.
    The next morning was dry but humid. Mosquito weather, Charlie
    thought as she took her malaria protection tablets.
    To her surprise, Riago was at the table in the sala de jantar when
    she entered. The small, melancholy man standing talking to him she
    recognised as one of her abductors.
    'Planning another kidnap?' she asked as she sat down, reaching for
    the coffee-pot.
    'I regret your humour is lost on Pedrinho,' he said bitingly. 'And the
    situation we speak about is no laughing matter either. Some of the
    caboclos have reported seeing garimpeiros in the locality.'
    'What are they?'
    'Prospectors looking for gold and precious stones.'
    'Aren't people allowed to seek their fortune along the Amazon any
    more? I thought it was everyone's dream to find El Dorado.'
    'A lot of these men are criminals, seeking to smuggle their finds out
    of Brazil. They have faked passports from Bolivia and Colombia,
    and are usually armed and violent. If they are operating in our area
    the caboclos are right to be afraid.'
    'Oh.' Charlie sipped some coffee reflectively. Now seemed hardly an
    opportune time to request a guided tour of the plantation, she
    decided with irritation. She would have to be patient a little longer.
    'So what do you do about these people?' she asked at last. 'Organise
    a man-hunt?'
    'No,' he said. 'Any more than I would deliberately kick a sleeping
    snake. We organise patrols—let them know they have been seen,
    and so warn them to come no nearer. Living as they do, off the
    jungle, with no proper food or medical attention, many of them do
    not survive. Sometimes the forest sends them crazy. Often they kill
    each other.'
    'That's awful.' Charlie grimaced. 'Can't anything be done?'
    'How simple you make it sound,' he said softly. 'You come from a
    small, law-abiding island, and you think you can impose your
    limitations on the rain forest—the Green Hell, as they call it here.
    Do you imagine you can police hell as you would your own home
    town?'
    'If you look on it as hell then why do you live here?'
    He shrugged. 'There are worse places. And I have a job to do.'
    He was still holding something back and she knew it, but decided
    not to press the point. Whatever secrets his life might hold were no
    concern of hers. She didn't want to become interested—involved.
    That was too risky. At the moment she was merely intrigued, she
    told herself staunchly, but unless she was careful that could develop
    into a disastrous attraction.
    Riago rose from the table with a brief word of apology, and left the
    room, Pedrinho following in his wake. They'd both certainly looked
    grim, Charlie mused as she tackled her breakfast. These garimpeiros
    must be a genuine menace.
    When she'd finished her meal she hung around irresolutely for a few
    minutes, wondering where to go and what she was expected to do.
    She couldn't face another day wandering from room to room like a
    lost soul.
    Reluctantly she went in search of Riago. She found him in his
    office, and checked in the doorway, startled, when she saw he was
    loading a gun, something she'd only witnessed up to then on films
    and television. But watching it happen in real life had none of the
    drama or glamour of a screenplay, she realised breathlessly. It was
    threatening and sinister.
    Riago looked round, half smiling as he registered her presence in the
    doorway, but his expression changed when he saw her face.
    'Is something wrong?'
    'You're not actually going to use that?'
    His brows rose in faint hauteur. 'Yes, if I need to. You disapprove?'
    'Well, of course I do.' Her hands twisted together. 'I hate any kind of
    violence.'
    'You think you are alone in that?' Riago shook his head. 'But there
    are situations when ideals will no longer serve—and realism must
    prevail.' He slid the gun into a holster on his hip. 'Believe