Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's: THE LOST WORLD
London Edition – vol.109
The telltale flicker of a campfire lit the distant treetops. It was only a glimmer, but to Marguerite, it cut like a beacon through the darkness. Somebody else was nearby – she was not lost and alone in the jungle night. At last, she could rest, and she leaned back into the wide saddled branches of her own private kapok tree.
She had been certain that she would remember the route to Olmec's temple. By staying that course, she had expected to intercept Veronica. But she had lost her bearings while using one of Roxton's bloody shortcuts, and she spent most of the afternoon looking for her original trail. Eventually, the encroaching darkness had forced her to seek the safety of a climbable tree and wait out the night. At the first hint of morning light she headed straight for the valley, desperately hoping that the distant flame would turn out to be her housemate's camp.
Ned left Veronica's side just as she began to drift in and out of sleep. She felt the chill on her back as he pulled away – she thought he was up adding wood to the fire. He whispered a few words, but in her slumber they were meaningless – and then the camp was still. After a time, she pushed herself up onto her arm and hip, and she realized that Ned had gone.
When Marguerite arrived, an hour later, Veronica hadn't moved. The young woman had passed from confusion to hurt and from betrayal to anger, and now she just felt foolish and numb. The duo sat sheltered under the lean-to. It was one of those rare moments when Marguerite felt protective, and she listened while her friend explained what had happened.
"He said not to follow him or Olmec would kill us," Veronica spoke to the ground.
"I can't pretend to understand what this all means – that trickster with your mother's necklace – but maybe Ned really is trying to protect you."
"Like he protected Roxton and Challenger?" she snapped back, and she suddenly stood. "I'm going to finish this. I'm going to get my pendant!"
Marguerite did her best to steer the determined woman back to the tree house. But Veronica wasn't in the mood for words and she started into the morning jungle. Marguerite checked her ammunition, pulled the brim of her fedora low, and headed out after her.
Roxton kept a double-time pace, his rifle held forward, keeping time with his steady gait. The heavy weapon burned at his shoulders and his legs had ached for hours. He had chosen wide trails. The distance was greater, but he had made good ground during the night. He hadn't slowed since leaving the Zanga village yesterday evening. The detour had cost him time, but getting Challenger proper care was necessary, and Assai had been eager to help. The temple peaked above the tree line and Roxton kicked up his step. Today he was going in bullets first.
This would be Olmec's greatest victory since he had danced in the blood of the Chaco people. Eternity had a way of stealing the meaning from the moment – but today mattered. The ladies would be here very soon, and Locke had to admit: he had a soft spot for Marguerite.
And then she was there. "I will shoot you, Locke," she said. The two women stood at the temple steps with a clear line of sight on the trickster.
Locke turned slowly to face them. "I am your humble prisoner, Marguerite," he said, and he touched his hand to his heart. "I always have been."
Veronica stepped up to the ground level of the temple. "Where is Malone? Where's my necklace?"
Locke held up a finger, as if he were making his first point. "I imagine you feel a tad betrayed – believe me, I fully understand. The lad has proven to be quite a disappointment to me as well."
"WHERE IS HE?"
Her intensity startled him. "I'm afraid he's left the Plateau – gone to London for the paper."
"Where is the Trion?"
"Again, I apologize. That shifty reporter has taken your jewelry with him." Olmec truly loved the final moves of the game.
"Get them both back here, now," she demanded. She pulled a dagger from her boot and started up the second set of stairs.
"I will summon your boy home immediately… but I need to be down there." He pointed to the clear earth at the base of the temple.
Veronica stepped in behind the man and escorted him to the ground level. Locke maneuvered as closely as he could to Marguerite's rifle – it was the one thing he feared. He knew that she wouldn't fire with Veronica directly behind him. He would disarm his attackers with uncanny speed the instant he was within range. Then he saw Marguerite's eyes shift to his right, and he knew that he'd overlooked something.
The hunter had approached from the trickster's blindside. "That spot will do nicely," John said. "Now do your hocus-pocus." He stood offhand, poised to fire.
"Ah, Lord Roxton – I don't recall sending you an invitation," Locke played nonchalant, but he was genuinely surprised by the man's arrival. He hadn't counted on a third weapon and he had no intentions of being killed. "This is probably a good time to warn you: If I, Francois Locke, should die – Olmec will simply possess another of his minions – your own Ned Malone, to be perfectly clear."
"No more games!" Veronica yelled. She wanted the Eye of Heaven back. Ned was now a secondary consideration.
Locke held his hands up in mock surrender and continued in his cavalier tone, "One gateway to London coming up!" He retrieved a bit of dust from his pouch and tossed it skyward, the powder drifted in the light for a moment and then collapsed into the distance.
Roxton was unaware that the passage had even opened. From his perspective, the two dimensional gate was nothing more than a razor thin shimmer. It was the immediate change in Marguerite's bearing that alerted him – suddenly she was rushing forward. He knew her face better than his own, every sensual smile and wicked expression, but her look now was completely foreign to him.
She called out, but her words were cut short as she leapt through the magic portal.
END – vol.109
London Edition – Epilogue will post soon. See profile for details.
