Chapter 7
Mathilda focused her binoculars on the upper branches of a wild mango tree. She’d spotted movement there, and a flash of black. Of the four ‘alalā, also known as Corvus hawaiienses, that they’d released a few weeks ago, three were already confirmed dead.
Only Hector’s fate was unknown. The tracking chip that she’d implanted in him had stopped transmitting, but that didn’t mean he was dead.
She refused to give up on Hector until she had solid confirmation of his death.
Maybe something had gone wrong with the chip.
Maybe he’d pecked at it enough to damage it.
Maybe he’d figured out a way to eject it from his feathered body.
Crows were very smart. They were among the most intelligent of all bird species, similar to an ape or a seven-year old human.
In fact, you never wanted to get on a crow’s bad side.
They recognized individual human faces and could carry a grudge.
They could even tell other crows about an untrustworthy person and convince them to target that individual.
She found crows to be fascinating, but she knew that not everyone shared her interest. Still, it always irritated her when someone like Lincoln Kerr got that patronizing look on his face when she mentioned her specialty.
It felt like a silent pat on the head, an implied, “isn’t that cute, little girl, but you should stop wasting your time out here. ”
Or maybe she was reading too much into it, since she’d had to deal with that attitude from her family.
A breeze shifted the leaves and the flash of black turned out to be more of a gray-brown: an ‘io. Her heart sank. The Hawaiian hawk was also a fascinating creature, but unfortunately it was the nemesis of the Hawaiian crow. Hector was mature enough that he probably wouldn’t be the target of a hawk.
But he hadn’t been raised in the wild. He wasn’t savvy to the dangers of the jungle.
There was a chance she’d released him to his doom, but that was the risk you took in restoration work.
In the old days, the native Hawaiian forests had been filled with the squawks and warbles of the ‘alalā.
They were key seed dispersers, important to the health of the forests, and revered by the Hawaiians.
Restoring the ‘alalā wouldn’t fix the entire world, but it would bring something back into balance, something important.
Another movement caught her eye. She focused her binoculars higher up, above the canopy, and saw a mechanical object cruising past. A drone?
“Hey!” she called to the others. “Do you guys see that?”
When no one answered, she dropped the binoculars and saw that the others had gone ahead to the waterfall. She must have missed the call, being so wrapped up in her Hector-hunting.
The drone dipped lower, as if it was checking something out. By her calculations, it was heading in the exact direction of the site of the plane crash.
She checked her watch. The route from here to the crash site was pretty direct.
In fact, if she walked upstream along the waterway that became the waterfall, it wouldn’t take her long.
She could still make it to the waterfall by late afternoon, in time for one jump, and then join the group hike back to the camp.
That way she could wave down the drone. It was probably looking for survivors. If it saw a live human at the site, then they’d know to send help. Maybe it even recorded video and audio. She could send a message that Lincoln Kerr and his pilot were alive.
After half an hour of trekking past mango trees and hāpu’u ferns that towered over her head, she saw the first glimpse of metal through the dense green of the jungle.
A wispy spiral of smoke rose from it. Not even last night’s drenching rain had completely extinguished the smolder of burning engine parts.
As she emerged into the clearing, she looked for the drone but didn’t see it right away. Maybe it had taken some photos and moved on. How far could drones travel? Who was operating it and where were they based? Or was it automated somehow, not controlled by a live operator?
She really needed to brush up on her drone knowledge. Come to think of it, maybe she could use drones to scare off the ‘io. She should put that in her next grant application.
Putting her binoculars to her face, she scanned the entire area, searching for that drone.
She paused as something else caught her eye.
Was that an ohi’a tree, with its distinctive spindly trunk and gray-green foliage?
She hadn’t explored much in this particular area.
The ‘alalā preferred ohi’a forest habitat to any other, but she wasn’t aware of any ohi’a in this part of the valley.
She stepped forward to get a closer look, then paused as a strange sound caught her attention. A whistling sort of sound, but not a person. More like a—
Someone grabbed her by the hand and yanked her backwards. “Hey!” she yelled, stumbling over the root of a hala tree.
Then she was being swept off her feet and whisked away from the plane.
Someone was carrying her like a child; she couldn’t see who, but they were strong.
Her face was pressed against a hard chest. She spluttered against a mouthful of shirt fabric, and managed to shift her head enough to spot the bandage on her kidnapper’s arm.
Lincoln?
They dropped onto the ground behind a lava formation with ironwood trees growing over it. Lincoln pushed her ahead of him, so she’d be even more sheltered. She flinched as her head brushed against the rough surface of that lava rock. “Ow. What are you doing?”
“That drone was shooting live ammo.” Lincoln spoke in a harsh whisper.
“What? Why?”
“The hell if I know. Are you okay?” He moved to touch her head, but she swatted his hand away. All of this was so suspicious.
“I’m confused. What are you even doing out here? Why is there a drone? I thought it was looking for survivors. Why is it shooting?”
“Those are all excellent questions, but I don’t have any answers.” His dark eyes scanned her closely. “I’m sorry if I scared you. When I saw you standing there, I panicked. I couldn’t explain fast enough, so I just grabbed you.”
“Oh my god.” A shiver swept through her. “I heard something, but I had no idea what it was. “Did that thing actually shoot at me?”
Her heart beat a rapid-fire rhythm as she struggled to process what had just happened.
Had he just saved her life? Huddled in the shadow of the rock, they were so close to each other that she could see details of his face she hadn’t noticed before.
His long eyelashes, for instance. The scar next to his cheekbone. The furrows between his eyebrows.
“It probably wasn’t personal, if that helps.”
She considered that. “Not at all,” she decided. “It might make it worse. What do you know about drones like that?”
“Not much. My guess is that it was programmed to shoot anything that registered as a living human. I got lucky. I startled a wild boar and it charged toward the plane. The drone shot at it. It either missed or it just nicked the boar, because he made a big squealing fuss and ran off. After that I stayed out of sight so I could watch the drone. Then you showed up.”
She hugged her arms around herself. Realizing that she’d just had a brush with death…holy shit. Now she couldn’t stop shaking. “It probably would have kept shooting if you hadn’t pulled me away.”
“But I did. You’re okay. It’s okay.” He scooted even closer to put his arms around her, but she shoved him away.
“It’s not okay. All of this is your fault.” Of that, she was completely sure.
“My fault?” He had the nerve to actually look offended.
“If you and your fancy private plane hadn’t crashed here, that drone wouldn’t be buzzing around shooting at things. Of course it’s your fault. That poor wild boar! You’d better hope he wasn’t hurt.”
“You’re worried about the pig?”
“He belongs here more than you do! I mean, he shouldn’t be here either.
The wild pigs are not native. They were first brought here by the Polynesians, and then by Captain Cook in the eighteen-hundreds.
Different pigs, of course. Not the same ones.
” She realized that Lincoln was looking at her with a bemused expression, and cut her lecture short, though she had plenty more to say on that topic.
“But they are a good food source and they’re part of the ecosystem now, for better or worse, so it is what it is. ”
His lips twitched. “Huh.”
“Huh? Excuse me, what does that mean?”
“It means, what better way to pass the time while avoiding a shower of bullets than learning about the history of the wild pig population?”
A slow wave of heat washed across her face. Did she have to be a nerd in every situation? Apparently she did. “Well, now you know.”
“Yes. Thank you.” His tone was grave and even appreciative. “I’ll say a prayer for that boar.”
“Oh, no need for that. They’re a menace to the native plants. Annnyway…” God, how could she get out of this nervous chatter she’d somehow spiraled into? “How long do you think we have to stay here? Do drones run out of battery at some point?”
“Yes, they do. My educated guess is that it’s only patrolling the area around the plane. It could have been one of L—my security team’s protocols in case of a crash to fend off looters.”
“Oh.” She blinked at him. “But what about rescuers? Like me and Robert?”
“Good point. Maybe it’s a second layer of protection that only kicks in after a certain amount of time.”
None of this really made sense to her. “They don’t tell you that sort of thing?”
“I have a lot of trust in my team. They’re all the best at what they do. I don’t need to know every detail.” He looked almost…maybe embarrassed?
“Well, in that case, can’t you call them off? Wouldn’t they know not to shoot at you? Like, that should be programmed in with biometrics or something?”
“I wish I could remember that particular email,” he said—pretty evasively, she thought. “I could test the theory by walking back out there. But I’d rather not.”
“Please don’t. You must have other theories.”
“The other theory is more bleak.”
“Well, let’s hear it. I’d like to know why I’m hiding under an ironwood.”
He gave her a long look from those absurdly compelling dark eyes. “Basically, that someone’s trying to kill me.”
She drew in a sharp breath. That made a certain amount of sense, sadly. “Business competitor? Ex-wife? Someone you ripped off on your way to the top?”
He smiled wryly. “You got a pretty good list going there. Thanks for that.”
“Sorry, did that hurt your feelings? I’m not the one shooting at you.
” She considered him. Maybe she should be a little nicer to him, since he had just saved her life.
“Okay, new theory. You’re universally loved and no one would want to kill you.
Except maybe…oooh, here’s a crazy theory.
What if your pilot is faking the coma so you’ll be the one to come back out here and face the bullets?
Then he’ll assume your identity, because I’ve noticed that you do look a bit alike. Instant billionaire.”
His startled jerk made her wonder if she was actually on to something. “Absolutely not.”
She eyed him with suspicion. There was definitely more going on here, something he wasn’t telling her. “How can you be so sure?”
“Rory is extremely ethical. I’d trust him with my life.”
Poor fellow, she thought. For a shark-like billionaire, he really was a bit naive. “I hate to inform you of this, but billionaires really shouldn’t trust anyone. That’s why so many require NDAs. Being around that much money can make people do crazy things.”
“Is that right? You sound like you know a thing or two about this topic.” He looked at her closely, as if trying to see right to the heart of her soul, and for a moment she lost track of their conversation.
A zing of magnetic attraction pulsed between them. She felt it in her lower belly, on the hairs along the skin of her arms, in the pick-up of her heart rate.
Damn it all, why did this particular billionaire have to be so appealing? She could get lost in those dark eyes. Swept away by those strong arms.
“Well, I do,” she said finally. “Don’t ask me how. But believe me, you can’t assume that anyone, even your A-plus, super ethical, best-there-ever-was pilot, is completely trustworthy.”