‘Como interessante, Lieutenant,’ came a voice from further back out of the darkness of the jungle. ‘That was just what I was going to say.’
There were more clicks of weapons, and out of the shadows of the trees stepped Colonel Alberto Silveira, rifle raised and aimed straight at the lieutenant’s head.
‘Hands up!’
‘Um…I already have my hands up,’ I pointed out.
‘Not you! Him!’ The army colonel jerked his rifle towards de Alvarez. The man hesitated for just a moment - then dropped his gun with a low curse and raised his hands over his head.
‘What’s your name?’ Silveira demanded.
‘De Alvarez, you imperialist scum!’
‘Ha! I’ve heard of you! Wait till the general hears of this. I was only reckoning with the treasure. If I can bag you rebel vermin into the bargain, there’ll be a promotion in this for me.’
The only reply to this was an intelligible string of Portuguese profanities. I listened with interest. If I survived this, my vocabulary would be considerably extended.
The colonel did not seem impressed by de Alvarez’s tirade, however. His rifle remained steady on the rebel commander. ‘Shut up, you filthy dog! And as for you…’
The colonel’s eyes drifted to Mr Ambrose. ‘Under different circumstances I might drag you back to headquarters and teach you the error of your ways. Someone has to show you that you cannot simply march into a war zone without suffering the consequences. But I’ll have my hands full with this lot, so you and your lady will be getting off lightly. Leave Brazil, and you won’t hear from me again. But the Brazilian Empire is confiscating that manuscript. We can’t have it falling into the wrong hands, now, can we?’
Mr Ambrose met the colonel’s eyes. It was hard to say whose gaze was further below the freezing point. ‘No,’ Mr Ambrose agreed. ‘We can’t have that.’
In a flash, his hands darted to his belt, and before either of the officers could move, the muzzles of two shining steel revolvers pointed in their faces. Shouts rose from all around us, and rustling broke out in the shadows as dozens of soldiers started to raise their weapons.
‘Nobody move!’ Mr Ambrose’s command cut through the air with the mastery of a dozen field generals. ‘One twitch means two bullets in the head! Understood?’
The shapes in the shadows froze, unsure what to do. But if they were taken aback by the new development, it was nothing to how Colonel Silveira seemed to feel. He gaped at Mr Ambrose. ‘I just saved your life!’
‘And you have my sincerest thanks,’ my dear employer told him without shifting his gun an inch from the man’s forehead. ‘We’ll chalk it up against the torture and imprisonment, and call us even. Now, drop the rifle and put your hands in the air. This is your last warning.’
Silveira wavered. He was clearly contemplating trying to sweep the rifle around and shoot down this arrogant Englishman who dared to threaten him like a dog. After all, who was he? Just some big city boy who had gotten mixed up in a matter far, far too big for him. Those were the thoughts clear on Silveira’s face - until he met Mr Ambrose’s eyes.
‘Don’t.’
It was just one word, but whispered with such ice-cold menace, it made me shiver. If Mr Ambrose ever pointed a gun at me with that look in his eyes, I didn’t know what I’d do. But I probably wouldn’t survive.
The rifle hit the ground with a wet thud.
Mr Ambrose inclined his head. ‘Acceptable.’
‘This doesn’t mean anything!’ Silveira hissed. ‘My men outnumber you a hundred to one! Do you honestly believe the two of you are going to get out of here alive?’
‘No, not the two of us. But the three of us - yes. Karim?’
The last word was a shout over the heads of the soldiers. From somewhere up in the trees came a metallic click, and an answering shout.
‘Yes, Sahib?’
‘Tell our good friend the colonel here what you have up there in the tree with you.’
‘As you wish, Sahib. I have with me one of your engineers’ experimental weapon models, a mechanised gun that can fire several shots per second - without requiring reloading, I might add. Some use the term “machine gun” for this new invention. It seems to be the pet project of the British and American armies, but I doubt the Brazilian Empire has got its hands on one of them yet.’
With every word, the face of the colonel grew paler.
‘A bluff!’ he hissed. ‘This is just a bl-’
Before he could finish the word, an ear-splitting roar cut the night in two. Lightning lit up the trees around, and the muddy ground at our feet spewed upwards, spattering us with dirt and shredded foliage.