‘Adequate.’
Blast him! Would it kill him to say ‘Good work’ just once in his bloody life?
Yes, he’d probably choke on it.
‘Now come down here Mr Linton, and stop wasting time! This isn’t a sightseeing tour!’
‘Yes, Sir! Right away, Sir!’
I tucked away the compass and was just about to start sliding down the tree again when something caught my eye. Some way off, in a patch of trees that wasn’t quite as thick as the surrounding jungle, a scrap of colour flashed. Freezing, I looked closer. There was movement there. Movement and-
Oh dear.
‘Um…Sir?’
‘Don’t waste time up there, Mr Linton! Get a move on!’
‘I will, in a moment, Sir. Just one thing. What colour was the flag of the Brazilian Empire again?’
‘Yellow and green, why?’
‘Because then I think we have a problem.’
Exotic Exertions
There was silence from the bottom of the tree for a moment, while I tried to follow the progress of the Brazilian soldiers through the thick foliage. Then:
‘What kind of problem, Mr Linton?’
But I didn’t answer. That was because, in another direction, I had caught sight of a different group of coloured specks, moving in the same direction. Blast!
‘Mr Linton! What kind of problem?’
‘The double kind!’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Out of the way down there! Secretary incoming!’
As fast as I could, I slid down the trunk of the tree, not caring if I tore my chemise or even my hands. We had more important things on our hands than a little blood!
Karim had stepped well back - probably to avoid glimpsing up my fluttering undergown as I raced towards the ground. Mr Ambrose, however, had no such compunctions. He stood right where I had left him, his face like an ancient Mayan statue, his eyes flashing like icicles.
‘Step back!’ I yelled, hurtling towards the muddy ground.
He just gave me a look. He didn’t even need to open his mouth, and I still understood: Not a chance in hell!
Just at the right moment, he stepped forward. His arms came up and closed, tightly. The impact knocked the breath out of me. For a moment, I thought I would have been better off landing in the mud than on his stone-hard form. But then we toppled over, rolling through leaves and over roots, until we finally came to a rest and I ended up, panting heavily, on top of his perfectly sculpted chest, my eyes staring into his, my lips only inches away from his mouth.
Correction: this was a million times better than the ground.
Bad Lilly! Bad! No time for that now! Tell him!
‘Soldiers,’ I panted, only able to get out the one word right then and there.
‘What?’
‘Soldiers, Sir! The Brazilian Army. And I think the rebels, too! They’re after us, heading our way.’