CHAPTER 4
"Marguerite, don't say another word!" cried Veronica as she rushed onto the balcony with Malone close behind. They'd just found the entry in the journal about the emerald and had been going out to warn the other couple of its supposed magical qualities when they'd overheard Roxton and Marguerite's argument.
The startled hunter glanced at them and then looked back at irate heiress only to find she was nowhere to be seen. "What the hell…?" he gasped, then realising she wasn't anywhere on the balcony, he cast a concerned look over the rail to the jungle floor below. "Marguerite!" he called, the first seed of dread starting to sprout in his chest. "Marguerite!"
"She's gone, Roxton," Veronica told him as she moved over to his side.
"Gone? What do you mean she's gone?" the hunter demanded in confusion. "She can't have, she was standing right in front on me a few seconds ago!"
"It's the emerald," Malone told him as he joined his friends and pushed the open journal into Roxton's hand. "Look, it supposedly has the power to grant wishes."
Roxton looked down at the book in his hand and recognised the drawing of the gem immediately. Glancing over the narrative on the page next to it, he discovered that what the Layton's had written down was only what they'd heard from rumours and legends.
Grimly, he snapped the book shut and gave it back to the reporter. "Obviously there's no suppose about it, Malone," he stated as he brushed past his friends and stalked into the treehouse.
The young couple followed him in and watched as he grabbed his two pearl handled Webley pistols and checked them over.
"What are you doing?" Veronica asked.
"What does it look like?" he countered, shoving the guns back in their holsters. "I'm going to look for her." He slipped his arms through the gun harness so the pistols now sat at each side of his chest and did up the buckle across his stomach. He then grabbed his hat and rammed it determinedly on his head before retrieving his rifle from the its place in the rack.
"But she could be anywhere," Veronica pointed out with a frown. "You don't even know where to start looking."
"She wanted gems," Roxton replied walking over to the elevator. "So, I'm going to try those nearby caves where she picked up some good pieces not so long ago."
"She also said she wanted to be far away from here, Roxton," Malone reminded him quietly, steadfastly ignoring the look of hurt that flashed over the older man's face. "She might not even be on the plateau anymore."
The hunter halted by the elevator and briefly shut his eyes trying to keep his unhappy feelings under control. "Do you think I haven't already thought about that, Malone?" he demanded harshly as he turned and glared at the reporter. "But until I know for certain she's not still here, I'll keep looking. For as long as it takes!"
He turned away from the young couple intending to step into the elevator but was prevented from doing so when the mechanism whirred into life sending the car downwards. Hoping against hope that it might be the heiress returning, he was dismayed to see the familiar form of his scientist friend come into view. "Oh, Challenger, it's you," he said in disappointment.
"Roxton," the red-haired man acknowledged distractedly as he alighted then turned back to help a wounded man step off the elevator. "This is Alban," Challenger told them as he took in their curious looks. "He saved me from certain death at the jaws of a raptor with just a sword no less! Unfortunately, he sustained a rather nasty cut to his left arm which I think will need tending right away, if you would, Veronica?"
The woman immediately went over and checked the injury. "Two or three stitches should be enough to fix it," she told Alban with a smile. "I'll get some thread and some salve."
"Thank you," he replied gratefully as she hurried away.
"Malone, Roxton, sit down and I'll tell you what happened," Challenger urged, smiling at the two men.
The journalist did as he was bade but the hunter abruptly shook his head. "Later, Challenger. I have to go and find Marguerite first," he told him with a frown.
"Find Marguerite?" the scientist queried in surprise. "Whatever do you mean? Is she missing?"
"If you can call disappearing into thin air without a trace 'missing', then yes," Roxton replied tautly.
"What?!"
Malone quickly opened up the journal he still held and flicked the pages over until he found the entry he was looking for. Turning the book half way around, he slid it across the table towards the older man.
"See this?" he asked as he pointed to the drawing of the emerald. "We found it. And everything Veronica's parents wrote about it is true. It can grant wishes."
Challenger picked up the book and rapidly scanned the page then looked over at Roxton. "And you believe this?" he questioned incredulously.
"Yes, I believe it! I was there when it happened, Challenger," he answered curtly. "And now I have to go and find her." With that, he stepped into the elevator and lifted his hand to set the car in motion.
"Wait!"
Roxton paused and looked around to see Alban standing at the top of the stairs. "Yes?" he demanded impatiently when the young man didn't speak right away.
"You will be wasting your time trying to find your friend," Alban warned quietly. "The emerald grants wishes but not in the expected way. Not for mortals."
The hunter's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Not for mortals?" he repeated, taking a step back off the elevator and coming to a stop almost nose to nose with the younger man. Pulling out a pistol, he clicked off the safety and pushed it against Alban's chest before curtly demanding, "First you tell us exactly who you are then you explain how the hell you know about that emerald, my friend."
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Marguerite took a couple of deep breaths trying to calm the awful fear that was steadily rising with each second. What had just happened and where the hell was she?
Looking around, she saw that the people diligently picking away at the stone walls didn't even seem to be aware that she was there.
"Heat-stroke," she muttered, looking around the cavern. "That must be it. I've fainted and I'm having some sort of really weird dream."
"Get back to work!" suddenly yelled a harsh voice followed by the sound of a whip cracking that reverberated around the cave.
Someone screamed in pain and Marguerite gasped, looking around wildly to see what was happening. As she did so, her foot caught a small rock that was protruding from the earth and she let out a small cry as she fell heavily to the ground. "Damn!" she exclaimed as pain lanced through her right ankle.
As she sat there, a shadow fell over her and she looked up into the face of a very tall, very sweaty, very bald man. His dark blue trousers were covered in such an inordinate amount of stains, the heiress was certain that he hadn't taken them off since the day he first put them on. His chest was bare and his stomach showed the price of good eating by hanging abundantly over the waistband of his trousers.
"Well, well, well, what have you got there?" he asked, his deep rasping voice immediately grating on her nerves. He bent down and grabbed her hand, but instead of dragging her up as she thought he would, he merely ripped the emerald from her grasp. Holding it up with a grin that revealed an incomplete set of rotten teeth, he said, "Not bad."
"Give that back!" she ordered, automatically trying to stand as she reached out to snatch the gem from his grubby fingers. Her ankle gave way before she was more than halfway up and she slumped unceremoniously back down onto her backside, grimacing as another shaft of pain shot up her leg.
The man laughed at her feeble attempt then pointed over at a nearby wall. "Back to work, wench," he commanded as he pocketed the emerald. "And be quick about it or you'll feel the hot sting of my whip."
Marguerite glared mutinously at her captor then slowly rose to her feet. Even though every part of her wanted to irrevocably maim the man before her, she also recognised that she was in no shape to do anything. Gingerly, she turned away from him and took a step towards the cave wall.
"Move it!" the man snapped and shoved her in the back.
The heiress stumbled on her injured ankle but resolutely stayed on her feet, stifling a pained groan. Throwing him a malevolent glance over her shoulder, she reached the wall at her own pace then eased herself to the ground.
"Here," said the man, dropping a pick-axe at her feet. "Find more like this little gem," he said patting his pocket, "and I'll see about making your stay here a more…" He paused and licked his lips in anticipation as his leering eyes ran over her body before finishing, "enjoyable one."
Marguerite fought down the wave of nausea that threatened to overcome her at his implication and looked away. Picking up the tool, she methodically started the chip away at the stone wall hoping that if she ignored him, he'd leave which, after a few seconds, he did.
As soon as he was out of sight, she flung down the pick-axe then straightened out her right leg and began rubbing her ankle to help soothe the throbbing. She was pretty certain she hadn't broken it but it was still bad enough to hinder an opportunity of escape if she saw one.
With her usual determination she forced the pain to the back of her mind and focussed completely on trying to figure out how she'd been in the treehouse one minute then in a cave, being forced to mine gems, the next.
"So much for a dream," she muttered morosely, gasping as her ankle protested again. "More like a bloody nightmare."
END CHAPTER 4