“I’ll go see for myself,” he said. Immediately several others volunteered to go with him.
Mathilda wasn’t one of them. She’d stepped off the platform and was talking intently with Philip Phelps, the lawyer. The sight felt like a punch in the gut. He kept forgetting about that situation. Maybe he didn’t want to remember it. He wanted to keep seeing Mathilda, keep kissing her, keep getting to know all her ins and outs. It felt like something he could do for a very long time and not get tired of it. Maybe forever.
Even now, being several feet away from her instead of side by side made him feel empty.
But he had a job to do. If that was Lincoln out there under that column of smoke, his responsibility was to go that way.
Bjorn and Robert came with him, which he greatly appreciated. The trek took over three hours, and that was only because Robert knew of a trail that wasn’t completely overgrown. Occasionally they would pass the remains of a lava wall. He explained that it used to circle the entire island. The king’s messengers would use it to carry news to all the different villages and settlements.
“The original coconut wireless,” Rory joked, causing Robert to break into a hearty chuckle.
After they’d walked a bit, Rory asked Bjorn if he knew anything about the Kerr family business.
At first, Bjorn didn’t want to talk to him. “I can’t believe you fooled me,” he grumbled. “My mother would be ashamed.”
“She doesn’t have to ever know.” Rory gave the scout’s honor sign. “It’s not something I want to spread around, that’s for sure. But if you help find Lincoln, I’m sure the Kerr family will be grateful. You could make your mother proud.”
Bjorn shrugged. “It might, considering my botany research does nothing for her. Fine. What do you want to know?”
Rory cast around for an angle that wouldn’t give away anything confidential. “Have there been any recent changes in Lincoln’s business that could explain the kidnapping?”
“I’m sure he’s always a prime target for kidnappers. He is a billionaire.”
“Yes, these guys went all out. Private mercenaries, a chopper, drones.”
“Drones?” Robert stopped in mid-machete swing.
Keeping a careful eye on the position of that machete, Rory explained what he and Mathilda had witnessed at the crash site.
“You should have told us,” Robert said sternly.
“Yeah. I should have. I’m sorry. Bad call. The point is, someone went to great lengths to grab him from your camp. Just curious why now, why here.”
Bjorn stopped and sniffed the air. “I think we’re close.”
They stopped talking as they thrashed their way through a thicket of ferns, finally emerging into a grove of banana trees, with the fallen helicopter smoking in the midst of it.
“It’s the same one that took Lincoln,” Rory said. As they carefully approached the wreckage, he reeled off the details of the aircraft. “Sikorsky S-97 Raider, holds up to six people as well as the cockpit crew. Exceptionally maneuverable, well-suited to hot environments like the jungle.”
“So it shouldn’t have crashed.”
“No.” Maybe it was a case of sabotage, Rory thought to himself. Maybe the first crash had been too. Maybe someone really wanted Lincoln dead.
But if that was so, why hadn’t they killed him before they put him on the chopper?
They stopped at a safe distance from the chopper. “Hellooo,” Robert called out. “We’re here to help.”
No response. They exchanged wary glances. Bjorn flung up his hands. “Last time I saw those guys, they were aiming guns at me. I’m not going in there.”
“No, this is on me.” Rory drew in a breath and stepped forward before anyone could argue—not that anyone did.
“We got your back,” Robert whispered.
Too bad none of them had guns to have his back with.
His heart pounding, Rory pushed his way past the rubbery heart-shaped leaves of the plant he’d been hiding behind. He felt incredibly exposed as he picked his way across the lava-scattered ground. The helicopter was mostly in one piece because it had landed in the middle of that vast banana grove. The thick foliage had cushioned its fall. Was there a joke to be made about slipping on a banana peel?
Inappropriate. Moments of crisis always brought out his black humor side.
