'Then you have remarkable recall. So much has happened... I shall not waste words. Where are Piersall's documents? I am sure it is unnecessary to tell you that your life and the lives of those you brought to Jamaica depend on our having them.'
'How do you know they'd do you any good? What if I told you I had copies made?'
'I would say you were lying. We know the placement of every Xerox machine, every photostat copier, every store, hotel, and individual that does such work along the coast. Including Bueno, the Bays, and Ocho Rios. You have had no copies made.'
'You're not very bright, Mr Halidon... It is Mr Halidon, isn't it?' There was no response, so Alex continued. 'We photographed them.'
'Then the films are not developed. And the only member of your team possessing a camera is the boy. Ferguson. He is hardly a confidant... But this is immaterial, Dr McAuliff. When we say documents, we assume any and all reproductions thereof. Should any surface... ever... there will be, to put it bluntly, a massacre of innocents. Your survey team, their families, children... all those held dear by everyone. A cruel and unnecessary prospect.'... to the last extremity. R. C. Holcroft.
'It would be the Halidon's last action, wouldn't it?' McAuliff spoke slowly but sharply, stunned by his own calm. 'A kind of final... beau geste before extinction. If you want it that way, I don't give a damn.'
'Stop it, McAuliff.' The voice suddenly screamed, a piercing shriek over the blades of wild grass, its echo muted by the surrounding jungles.
Those words... They were the words he had heard before!
Stop it. Stop it... stop it...
Where? For God's sake, where had he heard them? His mind raced; images were blurred with blinding coloured lights, but he could not focus.
A man. A black man - tall and lithe and muscular... A man following orders. A man commanding but not with his own commands. The voice that had just roared was the same voice from the past... following orders. In panic... as before. Something...
'You said we would talk. Threats are one-sided conversations; you take turns, you don't talk. I'm not on anybody's side. I want your... superiors to know that.' Alex held his breath during the silence that followed.
The quiet reply came with measured authority... and a small but recognizable trace of fear. 'There are no superiors as far as you are concerned. My temper is short. These have been difficult days... You should realize that you are very close to losing your life.'
The man with the pistol had moved slightly; Alex could see him now out of the corner of his eye. And what he saw convinced him he was on the track of an immediate truth. The man's head had snapped up at the priest figure; the man with the weapon dangling in his hand was questioning the priest figure's words.
'If you kill me... or any member of the team, the Halidon will be exposed in a matter of hours.'
Again silence. Again the measured authority; again the now unmistakable undertone of fear. 'And how is this remarkable exposure going to take place, Dr McAuliff?'
Alex drew a deep breath silently. His right hand was clasping his left wrist; he pressed his fingers into his own flesh as he replied.
'In my equipment there is a radio signalling device. It is standard and operates on a frequency that rides above interference. It's functional within a radius of twenty-five miles... Every twelve hours I send out one of two codes; a light on the miniature panel confirms reception and pinpoints location-identification. The first code says everything's normal, no problems. The second says something else. It instructs the man on the receiving end to implement two specific orders: fly the documents out and send help in. The absence of transmission is the equivalent of the second code, only more so. It alerts all the factions in Kingston, including British Intelligence. They'll be forced in; they'll start with our last location and fan out. The Cock Pit will be swarming with planes and troops... I'd better transmit the code, Mr Halidon. And even when I do, you won't know which one I'm sending, will you?' McAuliff stopped for precisely three seconds. And then he said quietly, 'Checkmate, Mr Bones.'
A macaw's screech could be heard in the distance. From somewhere in the wet forests a