Rogue Angel 47: River of Nightmares by Alex Archer

Author:Alex Archer [Archer, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2014-03-01T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Roux wanted to quit this ridiculous notion. It was getting more expensive by the moment, not that he didn’t have the money to cover it. He’d invested well through the centuries and was more than comfortable. But in a handful of days he’d shelled out thousands on what was probably a wild goose chase to find Annja Creed.

Annja would be all right. Somehow she always was. Sure, he’d gone looking for her before when he’d had a feeling that she was in trouble or could use his help. But it had never been this difficult to find her. It was a damn big river, and locating her somewhere on it would be like looking for that needle in a haystack—and a very giant haystack at that.

He suspected his efforts would be all for nothing and that she’d be safely ensconced in her New York City apartment before he got out of this insect-infested place.

Still, he paid the money to charter the tug, finding a captain and a mate that knew enough English. It was only a two-man crew. They were fishermen, and had at first thought that Roux wanted to go fishing. He dropped his suitcase in the center of the deck and opened the maps he’d purchased.

Roux had asked enough questions on the docks and spread enough money around that he got the name of the captain of Orellanna’s Prize and his likely course, a swollen tributary that led to only remote places.

“Sounds like where Annja would go,” he told his captain. “So I want to go here.” Roux stabbed a finger at a spot on one of the maps. It looked like a solid piece of green, no river that he could see. He scowled as rain started to fall on his map. He brushed the water away.

“There is nothing there,” the captain returned. “River in the rainy season, solid ground otherwise. We have been that way, good fishing sometimes.” He smiled. “Together we speared an arapaima as long as this boat on that piece of river.”

That would be about ten feet, Roux mentally translated, a very big freshwater fish.

“Much money we sold that fish for. Took a picture.” The captain reached in his wallet and pulled out a photograph with curled edges. The fish was probably longer than ten feet.

“Jonah’s whale,” Roux teased. “I certainly don’t want to go fishing for something like that.” I am fishing for Annja Creed.

“But along this tributary, other than big fish, there is nothing else.” The captain leaned over the map to help shield it from the rain. “Now, here and here are interesting places I can take you. Some villages over there like tourists and have many trinkets—”

“No. This tributary,” Roux was adamant. “I’m looking for something, maybe a village.”

“It is your money.” The captain worried at a wart on his thumb. “Okay. There are some villages, but they are small, very small, and have no names.”

“That’s fine. That’s where I want to go.”

Other boats, larger and in better repair, were leaving with tourists on them.

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