“Uh oh,” George said quietly to himself. Not more than a couple of hundred metres away two figures had slipped over the lip of the volcano. They had barely paused, crouching only for a moment to survey the interior of the crater with binoculars. A big man and a diminutive woman, they had quickly packed away their binoculars and begun their descent, scrambling down with a determined efficiency.

George let them get on their way a little before setting off. He did not want to alert them to his presence so he waited until the trees in the crater began to mask their movements. When he could no longer see them, he slipped out from beneath the woven mat of sticks that he had threaded palm fronds through to create a camouflaged hide, and began his own descent. He had to move as fast as he could yet remain unobserved. Guessing that they were heading to the lake, it was the most obvious landmark in the crater, he knew he had to make faster progress to get there before them. He had to warn Rick to get under cover.

To George it became a race, a race where none of the competitors could see the others. He just knew he had to move fast. Also, he suspected that the mysterious pair he was racing against were being much more careful. He could afford a little speed and a little less caution.

Gasping for air, the rifle slung over his shoulder snagging on low branches, shoving his way through the green maze, he worked like a demon, ignoring the pain of his bruised ribs. Tiny flies collected on his face to feast on the sweat that pooled in the creases around his eyes and mouth, sweat that dripped into his eyes, stinging them, blurring his vision as he blinked away the smarting liquid. His shirt stuck to his back and chest, soaked through in the heat of the dense forest. He could not remember when he had last felt such urgency. All he knew was that he had to get to Rick fast.

“Dad!”

“Rick!”

“Charlie! Carmen!”

Excited voices rang across the lake as the three fugitives cried and laughed and hugged each other all at the same time. They barraged each other with questions, too excited to hear about the other’s experiences rather than relate their own. Eventually, Rick managed to form a picture of what the children had been up to over the last thirty six hours. He shared what had happened to him and George but decided not to include details of George’s beating so as not to worry Carmen overly.

Eventually, the questions dried up and the three of them simply sat in a loose circle and smiled at each other. Relief at finding each other had lifted their spirits immensely but had also left them feeling the bone deep weariness that almost two days of flight, evasion, stress and poor sleep had inflicted on them. Rick’s shoulders slumped as he felt the painful grip of anxiety and worry for the children’s safety release its iron hold on his heart. He felt that he could breathe properly again for the first time since he and George were captured.

“Rick, where’s my Dad?” asked Carmen. “Is he…all right? I mean, he’s not hurt, is he?”

“It’s OK, Carmen. He’s just keeping an eye open for you elsewhere. We thought it best to split up and cover more of the crater this in case you came this way. Turns out we were right to. He’s up on the rim of the crater, trying his best to look like a tree.” In response to the children’s subsequent frowns, he added, “Camouflage. He’s hidden himself.”

“When the vines started shaking and you were making that horrible noise, I thought something nasty was coming out of that place,” said Charlie, pointing to the concrete structure.

“Yeah, you scared the life out of me!” echoed Carmen.

“Sorry about that. I’d come down here to have a look for you but when you weren’t here, I thought you might have gone into the bunker. I pushed my way in to see if you were there and got stuck. It took me ages to get myself out, and when I did, well… you know what happened.”

“Bunker?” said Carmen. “A bunker like soldiers use?”

“Kind of. This is kind of weird. It’s big, it looks like it could take a real beating from heavy artillery, but it’s not a very good piece of design as far as defensive buildings are concerned. There are no embrasures for a start – they’re kind of like windows that you can shoot from, where defenders might place a machine gun. You can’t see out to fight what might be attacking you. It’s really just a big cuboid with a fairly small entrance. It reminds me more of some older nuclear power stations I’ve seen where the reactor buildings look a little like this.

“What really gets me is that it’s colossal given the remoteness of Solitude. Why would anyone build such a huge construction here of all places? And why build it up a volcano? Just the transport of the building materials would have been a huge undertaking.”

“This whole island is weird, Dad,” said Charlie. “It’s been freaking me out since we got chased off the Cat.”

Rick was looking at the bunker as Charlie spoke. He shook his head and faced his son. “Well all I can say is that you two have been amazing! To do what you have done has been incredible. However, we need to get you off the island and get you home. This nonsense has gone on long enough.”

“Yes it has, hasn’t it, Rick Bravo?” interrupted a clipped European voice from behind them.

Rick and the children whipped around. Walking towards them, through the thigh high saw-grass was a small, pale woman with closely cropped white-blonde hair who looked as if she could be any age between twenty and fifty. The shock of the unexpected appearance of the woman was not lessened by the ugly looking sub-machine gun she was pointing towards them, nor the extraordinarily cruel set to her face.

Unable to believe his eyes, Rick felt as if the world had spun round a little faster, leaving him dizzy, confused and suddenly quite nauseous. With a shiver, he realised that their nightmare on Solitude had taken a turn for worse. Instinctively, he stepped in front of Charlie to shield him from the approaching woman. “Well, if it isn’t just one horrible surprise after another!” Rick hissed. “Solitude really has it all. You should sell tickets to thrill seekers, Iphigenia. To people who wanna get chased around by psychos instead of swimming with sharks.” Out of the corner of his mouth he whispered to Charlie, “If I say run, you run and don’t stop. You get away, d’you hear? No matter what happens!”

“Yes, Dad!” Charlie whispered back. He grabbed Carmen’s arm, fingernails sinking painfully into her wrist.

She looked at him uncomprehendingly for a moment then her eyes widened in surprise when she realised what Charlie meant. Shaking her head, she mouthed, “No,” at him silently.

“At least I now know why Winthrop-Smythe was having such a problem with you. He never mentioned your name, you know. If he had I could have saved him the trouble of tracking you down.” Savanarolova sauntered towards the small group. “Oh, by the way, if those brats try to run for it, my man will cut them down.”

“You really hang around with some quality people, Iphigenia. I mean, Winthrop-Smythe, he’s a real class act! Almost as high up the evolutionary scale as a hissing cockroach. You’ve gone up in the world since we last met.”

Pausing, she tilted her head and looked at him quizzically, “If I didn’t know better, Rick, I’d think you were being a little bit sarcastic.”

“You’d be right, too. Always perceptive, Iphigenia.”

“Why, thank you, Rick. And I can see that things have improved for you too,” she looked him up and down, her lip curling at his ragged and dirty appearance. “Although, still hanging out with island trash, I see.” She nodded towards Carmen, who bristled at the woman’s barb. “Now where is that great thug who used to trail around after you like some sort of carefully shaved ape? Knowing you, he won’t be far away.”

“Right here Miss Savanarolova, and I would like you to very carefully put that gun on the ground.” George’s deep bass rumbled over the group as he stepped out from the trees, pushing Munro before him with the muzzle of the Garand rifle. Munro’s face was black with fury, his meaty hands clasped behind his head. “I’d like to say it was a pleasure to see you again but I really can’t bring myself to do it. Even as a joke.”

Savanarolova’s face twisted with frustration as it was her turn to whirl round in surprise. Seeing Munro’s predicament and that George had now trained the rifle on her, she conceded her position and crouched down, gently setting the Skorpion machine pistol in the grass.

“Now get up, step away and put your hands on your head. Rick, get that gun!” George instructed.

Rick dashed over and scooped up Savanarolova’s Skorpion. He checked the magazine and ensured it was cocked, ready to use. With a triumphant smile, he turned back to Savanarolova and gestured with the pistol, shepherding her towards Munro. “Why don’t you two kneel down and make yourselves uncomfortable. Keep your hands on your heads! I’ve got a few little questions that I’d like answers to.”

Snarling, Savanarolova joined Munro. Even disarmed, kneeling side by side, Savanarolova and Munro looked far from unthreatening. Violence lurked beneath the surface of the big, brooding Scot and Rick knew Savanarolova of old. She was as dangerous as a pit viper when free; cornered, she would require a very careful watch.

“Dad?” Charlie asked. “Who is she?”

Rick grimaced, uncertain of what to do next, he decided to answer his son whilst his mind frantically went through his options, “She’s a real piece of work. I’ve run in to her a few times, years back, on expeditions and she’s always been the spanner in the works. Her speciality is looting national treasures, selling them to the highest bidder and God help anyone who gets in the way. In the process I’d say she’s got the blood of a few people on her hands. She’s dangerous, Charlie, stay away from her and definitely do not trust anything that comes out of her mouth!”

George frisked the two captives, removing two throwing knives from Savanarolova and a small pistol from her waistband. He quickly concealed those on his person in return. As for Munro, George was extremely careful, getting the man face down on the ground before searching him. A stiletto knife and a knuckle duster soon joined the arsenal that George retained, not to mention the incongruous Thompson sub-machine gun that George had taken from him earlier.

“Now then,” Rick said, once the captives had had their teeth drawn, “perhaps you’d like to enlighten me as to what you’re doing here on Solitude with your comic opera soldiers?”

Savanarolova merely glared at Rick, remaining silent. George stood over her and Munro, covering them with the Garand. Charlie and Carmen, not knowing what to do in the circumstances, stood close to Rick.

“I guess it has something to do with this place.” Rick stated, gesturing at the bunker. “What is it? What’s in it? Why did you need a troop of mercs to bring everything but a nuke to secure an uninhabited island?”

“You can work it out, Rick,” Savanarolova spat. “After all, working things out is your speciality. You’re such a talent at it that universities and museums across the world must be beating a path to your door. Oh wait, they’re not are they? They’ve forgotten who you are. Maybe it’s because you’re such a deadbeat!”

Rick shrugged, “You really don’t need to work this hard at proving what a lovely person you are, Iphigenia. I know already.” He walked over to the bunker’s uncovered entrance. The day was getting long and shadows were lengthening, casting the entrance into a deep, impenetrable gloom. However, something caught his eye, and by pushing creepers growing beside the entrance out of the way, he uncovered a surprisingly well preserved sign covered in odd, Chinese-like writing. “Oh, what a surprise! It’s Japanese.”

“Bravo, Bravo!” Savanarolova said. “And for your next trick?”

“Well, I guess that since it’s Japanese, it’s off the beaten track and that no-one knows anything about it except you, it housed some kind of wartime secret project?” Rick scratched his chin, rubbing away flakes of dried mud. “A secret wartime project that’s gonna be valuable and that you have no intention of sharing with anyone but whoever your working for. I guess it’s pretty small too since there’s only two of you up here.”

He walked back to Savanarolova and faced her, glancing up at the sky, noticing with surprise that the sun was dipping below the crater rim. How quickly time flew! “Now what puzzles me then is why you went to the trouble of shipping in the Marine Corps when you only needed two of you to come and investigate. I presume you came to the island some other way since I didn’t see your goons carry a snake basket onto my airplane.”

“Charlie,” Carmen whispered, “didn’t Trev say it was dangerous on the volcano at night?” She nodded towards the sun, of which only a sliver remained visible above the crater rim. The few clouds in the sky were flushed with copper, purple and red. Sunset could not be long away.

“Uh oh!” Charlie agreed. “Dad? Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Can it wait? I’m kind of busy here.” Rick said.

“Oh, the great Rick Bravo has a little boy does he? It must make him proud to see what a broken down old loser his father has become.” Savanarolova smiled, showing all her white teeth, then blew a kiss at Charlie.

“Shut up, Iphigenia,” Rick said tiredly. “You’re wasting your time there. Charlie’s not going to listen to your poison.”

“Oh but he really should. He should hear about the time his hero father abandoned his best friend to die. He should hear all about that. He’d love it! It’s a fantastic story of daring do and running away! I love the part when the best friend has can do nothing else but ring his fiancé on his satellite phone and tell her what’s happened, coughing his last words out as he died alone. Alone!” Her face transformed, twisting with rage, “Tell me Rick, how much blood did you have to clean off the phone before you could use it again!”

“Dad?” Charlie said, uncertain as to how to take this new information. After all, didn’t his dad say not to trust anything she said?

“You keep your peace, Miss Savanarolova.” George interrupted firmly. “That’s old ground you’re raking over and Rick has nothing to answer for, and you know it. Just trying to twist a knife in an old wound? Now pipe down before I gag you!”

Savanarolova glared at George.

Silence descended on the group. Rick and George were obviously unsure what to do with Savanarolova and Munro. Charlie assumed knew that they needed to get away but they could not leave those two behind. They’d only get free and cause havoc in their wake.

At this point Trev reappeared. Shaking and even more pale – if that was possible considering his bloodless appearance – he materialised directly in front of Charlie. “Charlie! What are you doing here! You’ve got to go, now! Get away!”

Charlie stared at Trev open mouthed. Over Trev’s shoulder he could see his father staring at Trev too, then at Charlie and then back to Trev.

“You can see them as well?” Rick asked, eyes wide in surprise, distracted from his interrogation with Savanarolova.

“Huh!” George exclaimed. Just as the sun went beneath the crater rim, plunging the forest into twilight, the Garand rifle in George’s hand underwent a profound transformation. The clean lines of the gun’s metal parts suddenly became lumpy and gnarled, choked with growths of rust. The wooden stock almost disintegrated in his hands, large pieces crumbling away beneath his hands. The strap actually fell away from the fore stock.

“Charlie!” Trev pleaded desperately.

“Dad!” Carmen cried out.

Munro launched himself at George and knocked the big man back with one swift uppercut that crunched up into his jaw. George fell back onto his backside and was then swiftly kicked in the solar plexus. With a grunt he fell back utterly incapacitated.

Rick turned back to the captives in time to find Savanarolova’s jungle boot rushing towards him. It crunched into his nose, dropping him instantly. She stepped over him, wrapping one arm round his neck, under his chin, and squeezed hard. He grunted once and scrabbled at her arms but he might have been trying to loosen himself from a steel rope for all the good it did. He looked at Charlie’s horrified face as if from the bottom of a deep well before his eyes rolled up and closed.

As Rick passed out, Munro strode towards the shocked children and struck them to the ground with consecutive backhanded slaps across the face. He rifled through Rick and George’s clothes, retrieving his weapons. Satisfied, he straightened up, cocked his Tommy gun and smiled, pointing it at the inert bodies of George and Rick, whilst his finger tightened on the trigger.

Holding his jaw, sprawled on the ground, his head ringing with the astonishing force of the blow, Charlie could not bring himself to look at what was coming next, yet his eyes were unwillingly drawn to the appalling scene. Please don’t, please don’t, he shrieked inside his head, yet all that came from his bloody and swollen mouth were nothing more than unintelligible cries.

Standing over all of this, unable to intervene, was Trev. Hand held to his mouth, he was actually quaking, yet strangely not looking at Charlie, or the others. He was looking away from the group, over the lake, towards the far shore that was shrouded beneath the shade of the rapidly darkening forest.

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