Something touched my shoulder.
My first thought was that it was a leaf that had fallen from a tree – but I knew at once that it was too heavy for a leaf.
It moved.
My hand twitched and it was all I could do to stop myself reaching out and attempting to flick this… thing, whatever it was… away. I felt its weight shift as it went from my shoulder onto my neck and I realized that it was alive and that it was moving. It reached the top of my shirt and I shuddered as it legs prickled delicately against my skin. Even without seeing it, I knew it was some sort of spider, a large one. It had lowered itself onto me while I crouched behind Hunter.
My mouth had gone dry. I could feel the blood pounding in the jugular vein that ran up the side of my neck and I knew that the creature would have been drawn to that area, fascinated by the warmth and by the movement. And that was where it remained, clinging to me like some hideous growth. Hunter had not seen what had happened. He was still focused on the compound, his eye pressed against the sniper scope. I didn’t dare call out. I had to keep my breath steady without turning my head. Straining, I looked out of the corner of my eye and saw it. I recognized it at once. A black widow. One of the most venomous spiders in the Amazon.
It still refused to move. Why wouldn’t it continue on its way? I tensed myself, waiting for it to continue its journey across my face and into my hair, but still it stayed where it was. I didn’t know if Hunter had brought anti-venom with him but it would make no difference if he had. If it bit me in the neck, I would die very quickly. Maybe it was waiting to strike even now, savouring the moment. The spider was huge. My skin was recoiling, my whole body sending out alarm signals that my brain could not ignore.
I wanted to call to Hunter, but even speaking one word might be enough to alarm the spider. I was filled with rage. After the failure of New York I had been determined that I would give a good account of myself in Peru, and so far I hadn’t put a foot wrong. I couldn’t believe that this had happened to me… and now! I tried to think of something I could do… anything… but I was helpless. There was no further movement in the compound. Everyone was waiting for the Commander to make his appearance. I knew it would happen at any moment. It was strangely ironic that I might die at exactly the same time as him.
In the end, I whistled. It was such an odd thing to do that it would surely attract Hunter’s attention. It did. He turned and saw me standing there, paralysed, no colour in my face. He saw the spider.
And it was right then that the door of the house opened and the Commander came out, wearing an olive green tunic and carrying a briefcase, followed by two men with a third walking ahead. I knew at that moment that I was dead. There was nothing Hunter could do for me. He had his instructions from Scorpia and less than ten seconds in which to carry them out. I had almost forgotten about the helicopter but now the whine of its rotors enveloped me. The Commander was walking steadily towards the cockpit.
Hunter made an instant decision. He sprang to his feet and moved behind me. Was he really going to abort the mission and save my life? Surely it had to be one or the other. Shoot the Commander or get rid of the spider. He couldn’t do both and after everything he had told me, his choice was obvious.
I didn’t know what he was doing. He had positioned himself behind me. The Commander had almost reached the helicopter, his hand stretching out towards the door. Then, with no warning at all, Hunter fired. I heard the explosion and felt a streak of pain across my neck, as if I had been sliced with a red hot sword. The Commander grabbed hold of his chest and crumpled, blood oozing over his clenched fingers. He had been shot in the heart. The men surrounding him threw themselves flat, afraid they would be targeted next. I was also bleeding. Blood was pouring down the side of my neck. But the spider had gone.
That was when I understood. Hunter had aimed through the spider and at the Commander. He had shot them both with the same bullet.
“Let’s move,” he whispered.
There was no time to discuss what had happened. The bodyguards were already panicking, shouting and pointing in our direction. One of them opened fire, sending bullets randomly into the rainforest. The guards in the towers were searching for us. More men were running out of the huts.
We snatched up our equipment and ran, allowing the mass of leaves and branches to swallow us up. We left behind us a dead drug lord with a single bullet and a hundred tiny fragments of black widow in his heart.
“You saved my life,” I said.
Hunter smiled. “Taking a life and saving a life… and with just one bullet. That’s not bad going,” he said.
We had put fifteen miles between ourselves and the compound, following the red pins until the fading light made it impossible to continue and we had to stop for fear of losing our way. We had reached The Log, the campsite where we had spent the night before, and this time I was careful not to sit on the hollow tree. Hunter spent ten minutes stretching out tripwires all around us. These were almost invisible, connected to little black boxes that he screwed into the trunks of the trees. Once again, we didn’t dare light a fire. After we had hooked up our hammocks, we ate our dinner straight out of the tin. It amused me that Hunter insisted on carrying the empty tins with us. He had just killed a man, but he wouldn’t litter the rainforest.
Neither of us was ready for sleep. We sat cross-legged on the ground, listening out for the sound of approaching feet. It was a bright night. The moon was shining and everything around us was a strange silvery green. To my surprise, Hunter had produced a quarter-bottle of malt whisky. It was the last thing I would have expected him to bring along. I watched him as he held it to his lips.
“It’s a little tradition of mine,” he explained, in a low voice. “A good malt whisky after a kill. This is a twenty-five-year-old Glenmorangie. Older than you!” He held it out to me. “Have some, Cossack. I expect your nerves need it after that little incident. That spider certainly chose its moment.”
“I can’t believe what you did,” I said. There was a bandage around my neck, already stained with sweat and blood. It hurt a lot and I knew that I would always have a scar where Hunter’s bullet had cut me, but in a strange way I was glad. I did not want to forget this night. I sipped the whisky. It burnt the back of my throat. “What now?” I asked.
“A slog back to Iquitos and then Paris. At least it’ll be a little cooler over there. And no damn mosquitoes!” He slapped one on the side of his neck.
We were both at peace. The Commander was dead, killed in extraordinary circumstances. We had the whisky. The moon was shining. And we were alone in the rainforest. That’s the only way that I can explain the conversation that followed. At least, that was how it seemed at the time.
“Hunter,” I said. “Why are you with Scorpia?” I would never normally have asked. It was wrong. It was insolent. But out here, it didn’t seem to matter.
I thought he might snap at me but he reached out for the bottle and answered quietly, “Why does anyone join Scorpia? Why did you?”
“You know why,” I said. “I didn’t really have any choice.”
“We all make choices, Cossack. Who we are in this world, what we do in it. Generous or selfish. Happy or sad. Good or evil. It’s all down to choice.”
“And you chose this?”
“I’m not sure it was the right choice but I’ve got nobody else to blame, if that’s what you mean.” He paused, holding the bottle in front of him. “I was in a pub,” he said. “It was in the middle of London… in Soho. Me and a couple of friends. We were just having a drink, minding our own business. But there was a man in there, a taxi driver as it turned out… a big fat guy in a sheepskin coat. He overheard us talking and realized we were all army, and he began to make obnoxious remarks. Stupid things. I should have just ignored him or walked out. That was what my friends wanted to do.