Forbidden River (The Legionnaires #2.5)(11)

“They’d be prepared for a broken leg, not combat. Someone will come looking when I fail to return, but that could be days. They’ll have me recorded as safely on the ground up here.”

“What’s the quickest way out if not by air?”

“We’re not dressed to go over the peaks and down the glacier,” she whispered, thinking aloud.

“Any other walking tracks? Roads?”

“Not this high up. And bashing through the bush could take weeks.”

“Which leaves the river.”

“We’d be sitting ducks.”

“Except ducks can fly.”

She rolled her eyes, but his focus was on the clearing—now quiet again.

“We gotta do it,” he whispered. “River’s near peak flow so it’ll be fast. How’s your kayaking?”

“Rusty. We did some white water in training. Team-building stuff.” But she needn’t go all the way to Wairoimata. If she could get a few hours downstream, she could go bush while Cody paddled out. “You can talk me through the tough bits.”

“You can roll?”

“Yep.”

“You done grade five rapids?”

She winced. “No.”

“You’ll be good,” he said unconvincingly. “Now, how do we get to the kayaks and launch them under his nose?”

The shooting started up again. “Fuck. My chopper.” My life. Just when she was getting something good going.

“Might be fixable.”

More gunfire. Potshots. He was being selective. “You think?”

“You insured?”

“Enough to repay my loans, but I’ll be left with nothing.” She rubbed her face. “I’ll look forward to worrying about that when we’re out of here.”

“So we tweak the plan. I’ll lead him away while you get the kayaks to the river. I double back. Then we’re gone.”

“We’d be crazy to launch here. The river meanders for the first kilometer—he’d be faster on foot and have plenty of opportunity for potshots. And if he gets back and finds the kayaks gone, he’ll assume we’ve launched from the hut and come looking.”

“Got a plan B?”

“There’s another entry point downstream, a Y-junction, where a big tributary joins the Awatapu. He can’t cross either river without a boat, not with the dogs, and swimming that vortex would be suicide. He’d be trapped on an arrowhead of land with rapids on two sides. He’d have to backtrack up the tributary for a couple of hours to reach a wading point. If we launch at the junction, we’ll be out of his scope in minutes—and we’ll get a head start.”

“How far away is it—this arrowhead?”

“There’s a shortcut over a saddle.” She pointed west, not that it was any help in the thick foliage. “He can’t be two places at once, and he’d be more likely to watch for us up here.”

The firing stopped. She swallowed, resetting her hearing. Shane paced along one side of the chopper, nodding in satisfaction as he swapped magazines again.

She shuffled closer to Cody. “Okay, so you get the kayaks while I lead him into the bush. I’ll lose him, circle ’round and meet you at the arrowhead.”

“Too dangerous for you. I’m playing decoy.”

“It’s my territory. I know it better. And...you’d handle carrying two loaded kayaks better than me.” She pointed to his watch. “If I don’t arrive by 1800, go without me. That’ll give you a little over two hours of safe paddling. You need to be far downstream by nightfall.”

No answer.

“Cody?”

His jaw tightened. “I’m not leaving you.”

And here we go with the macho bullshit. “Like you said, the priority is to raise the alarm.”

More silence.

“A few minutes ago you were happy for me to lift off without you,” she whispered. “What’s different about this scenario?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’d be happy leaving me if I was a guy, right?”

He blinked, jerking his head back. “Actually, no.” His voice clanged with genuine offense.

“O-kay,” she said. That intense look on his face... Something bigger than chauvinism was preying on that cool demeanor. A touch of PTSD? Guilt? “But we don’t have a choice. If we stick together, he’ll take out both of us.”

“No.”

“You have ten seconds to come up with a better plan.” She checked her watch. “Nine, eight—”

“I lead him away. You kayak for help.”

“I can’t take on that river alone. We’ll both end up dead, as will the climbers. And like I say, this is my turangawaewae, my home ground.”

He swore under his breath. Game to Kupa.

“Wait here until I’ve lured him upriver, then get the kayaks.” She gave him directions to the saddle. “If I don’t show, you’re paddling out solo. For everyone’s sake.”

She crept away before he could argue, her throat drying. He’d better bloody leave without her.

She circled the clearing, staying hidden. Shane had found her backpack and was shaking its contents onto the tussock. With the knife, he speared a pair of lacy knickers, lifted them to his nose and sniffed. Oh God, really? Looking for something for the dogs to track, or...? He pulled a hunting knife from his pocket and flicked it open. The spare clothes she always carried would be too clean for tracking but he pocketed the underwear anyway. Ugh. He swaggered back to the pilot’s door. A tearing noise. Judging from the way he was bent over, by his jerky movements, he had to be slicing up the pilot’s seat. That would have her scent on it.