They pulled the horses to a halt next to the fence that surrounded the enclosure. Amazon took off the hat and untied the neckerchief to wipe the sweat from her brow.
‘Piglets in there,’ said Frazer, ‘so we have to be …’ He was going to say ‘careful’, but just then a gust of wind came out of nowhere. It blew Amazon’s neckerchief from her grasp, then it sailed over the fence and landed in the mud.
Amazon wailed in despair at losing her precious keepsake. Without thinking, she stood up in the stirrups, pulled out one foot and swung her leg across Joey’s back. In one fluid movement, she jumped over the fence and into the soft mud of the enclosure after the neckerchief. She sprawled forward, her face slithering through the pungent, green-tinged slime.
Frazer’s desperate cry of ‘NOOOOOOOOOO!’ was too late for Amazon.
Frazer had watched with surprise, admiration and then horror as Amazon jumped into the enclosure.
His ‘Noooooooo!’ was the classic warning to ‘duck’ after you’ve already been punched. He had failed to tell Amazon two crucial facts.
The first was that the giant forest hog is ferocious and mean – maybe not quite up there with the hippo, but definitely not to be taken lightly.
The second was an important thing about the fence.
Amazon pulled herself up out of what she sincerely hoped was only mud with a great, wet sucking noise, and struggled towards her neckerchief, which had blown right into the middle of the pen.
‘The fence, Zonnie,’ Frazer yelled. ‘Don’t touch it!’
Amazon turned back towards Frazer.
‘What?’
‘It’s electrified. You won’t be able to climb out.’
‘Oh. Where’s the gate?’
Frazer pointed down to the other end of the enclosure, near the sty.
And at that moment the giant forest hog boar appeared, looking, to Amazon, as big as the horse she’d just jumped off. It was, undoubtedly, the ugliest animal she had ever seen. It was covered in straggly black hair, which showed the flabby reddish skin of its great sagging belly beneath. Its scarred and knobbly face, along with the tusks, made it look more like a mythological monster than a real creature.
And those tusks – brown and rotten-looking, but still lethal – were designed to grind against each other to sharpen their cutting edge.
Amazon might not always get on well with people, but she’d made friends with every animal she’d ever met. However, she felt instinctively that this beast was never going to be her friend.
She was right.
The boar had toothache. He also had a job. That job was defending the piglets, which were squirming over and under and all around Mrs Giant Hog. These two ideas came fuzzily together in his mind. He saw Amazon and he perceived a threat. And something deep in his brain thought that having a good old gore might just help that sore tooth of his.
Amazon looked round again at Frazer.
He’d disappeared. She didn’t know what to do.
The only way out was past the enormous boar.
Who was staring …
Who was grunting …
Who was snorting …
Who was charging …!
Amazon couldn’t see Frazer because he had jumped down from his horse and run to the jeep, which was just pulling up – Bluey behind the wheel.
‘No time to explain,’ cried Frazer to the startled Australian as he pulled open the tailgate of the jeep.
With fumbling fingers, he flicked the catches on the metal case and took out the coldly gleaming X-Ark. Luckily, there was already a dart in the chamber.
He reached the fence just as the boar began its charge. He had three seconds at the most. His hands were sweating, and more sweat poured down his face and into his eyes.
He aimed, looking for the red dot of the laser sight.
It was no good. Amazon was in the way. There was no time for him to move sideways.
Only one chance.
He threw himself down on to the floor, and aimed through the fence and between Amazon’s legs. Yes! He had a shot. He took a deep breath to steady himself, the way his dad had taught him. And then, aiming for the rippling muscle on the boar’s mighty shoulder, he gently squeezed the trigger, being careful not to jerk or pull.
The tranquillizer gun was powered by a small canister of compressed carbon dioxide gas. There was barely a sound as the dart flew from the barrel, and – unlike with a hunting rifle – only the tiniest of kicks.
Yes, this was a good gun, thought Frazer, his mind working at the speed of light.
And this was a good shot. It was said that a great marksman always knew when a shot went home, even with their eyes closed, just by the feel of it. All Bluey’s jokes would bounce off him now. He was the hero. He had saved Amazon. His dad would be so proud.
And then he heard the small, but distinct thock as the tranquillizer dart hit flesh.
Not, alas, the bristling hairy hide covering the giant forest hog’s shoulder, but the denim covering Amazon Hunt’s left butt-cheek.
Amazon had time only to register the sharp impact, half turn towards Frazer, a look of puzzlement on her face, before her eyes rolled up into her head and she pitched back down into the mud, right under the thundering feet of the giant forest hog.
‘It was all part of my brilliant plan,’ grinned Frazer.
It was the following morning and Frazer, Bluey and Miranda Coverdale were standing around Amazon’s bed. Amazon had a thumping headache and a major pain in her butt, but she found it hard not to smile at her cousin’s performance.
‘Look,’ Frazer went on. ‘You’re a little slimmer than a giant forest hog, right?’
‘Gee, thanks. And you’re a little smarter than a brain-damaged donkey.’
‘Oh, OK, cool. You’re still upset – I get that. I shot you in the … Anyway, I knew that it would take longer for the tranquillizer to work on that great fat pig than it would on you. If I’d hit the hog, it would still have time to mess you up good with those tusks. But if I darted you then you’d be down and out in a blink, and the hog would realize that you were no threat. And that’s what happened. As soon as it knew its ugly little piglets were safe, it waddled off back to its sty. It was sheer genius, really.’
Amazon looked round at the others. ‘Ha! The new tranquillizer mix could have taken down the hog instantly, and you know it! Does anyone actually believe my idiot cousin?’
Bluey grinned. ‘She’s right, Fraze – plus you couldn’t hit the barn, never mind the barn door.’
‘Could so hit the barn door! I’ve been practising. But who cares? Whether or not I meant it, it all worked out for the best, didn’t it? I reckon I saved your, er, butt out there!’
Then Amazon remembered something. ‘My neckerchief!’
‘That old thing,’ said Frazer innocently. ‘I gave it to the hog. He looks kind of cute with it tied round his tail.’
And then, before Amazon could whack him, he pulled it out of his pocket.
‘Got it washed and ironed for you.’ He grinned. ‘I guessed it meant something … you know, important.’
‘Thanks,’ said Amazon, and gave her cousin a grateful smile.
At that moment Dr Drexler appeared. He looked even greyer and more worried than usual. Amazon assumed it was because he was worried about her. He was in charge of this TRACKS place while her uncle Hal was away and so he’d be held responsible if anything went wrong. And Amazon getting shot – even if it was only with a tranquillizer dart – counted as something going wrong.
‘Feeling, ah, better are we this morning?’
‘Head hurts. And my bu– er … yeah … not too bad.’
‘Well, that’s good, because we may need a little help with something.’
‘A mission?’ Frazer cut in, almost yelling with excitement.
‘That’s right.’
‘What’s the job?’ asked Bluey, sounding almost as excited as Frazer.
‘It’s in the Sikhote-Alin mountain rang
e in the Primorsky Krai region.’
‘The what?’ asked a puzzled Amazon. ‘In the where?’ She was pretty good at geography, but she’d never heard of those mountains or that region.
‘It’s the far east of Russia, bordered to the south by Korea, in the west by China, and to the east by the Sea of Japan.’
‘Tigers,’ said Frazer. ‘It’s got to be Siberian tigers, right? I totally love saving stuff that really wants to, like, eat me.’
Amazon glanced over at Frazer. She’d assumed that he was joking, but it looked like he actually meant it.
‘You are one weird kid,’ she said, shaking her head.
‘Not tigers this time, Frazer,’ said Dr Drexler. ‘It’s something even more endangered than Siberian tigers. It’s the Amur leopard – the rarest big cat in the world. We’ve been helping to fund a reintroduction programme in the north of the leopard’s old range. We’ve been contacted by our link man out there, an American scientist, who’s part of the local conservation effort. He tells me that at least one of the leopards has been cut off by a forest fire. He hasn’t got the resources to deal with the situation, and so we’re sending in a team to try to rescue the animal.’
Frazer didn’t look too disappointed. ‘Hey, leopards are pretty cool. There was a famous one in India that ate three hundred people. I read about it in a book.’
‘You’ve read a book?’ said Amazon sweetly. ‘With words in? Or was it just pictures? Maybe you coloured it in with your crayons.’
But Frazer was too buoyed up to be annoyed. It took more than a bit of sarcasm to ruin his mood when an expedition was in the air.
‘I’ll let that one ride,’ he said, ‘seeing as I just shot you in the butt and all. But keep it up and I’ll tranquillize your other cheek …’
‘Aim for her butt next time and you’ll definitely hit the hog,’ laughed Bluey.
‘I think we should return to the subject of our leopard,’ said Dr Drexler sternly.
Amazon was delighted to do so. ‘Just one leopard?’ she said. ‘It seems rather a long way to go …’
‘You don’t quite understand,’ Dr Drexler continued impatiently. ‘There are only thirty or so Amur leopards left in the wild. Think of that. And there’s a suggestion that the leopard is a female – she may have cubs. It is common for them to have two in a litter. If that’s the case then ten per cent of the world’s wild population of the Amur leopard has been trapped by that fire.’
‘So we fly in there, get the cats out, take them somewhere safe?’ said Bluey.
Dr Drexler took off his spectacles and cleaned them with his spotless white handkerchief. ‘That, in, ah, essence, is the, er, long and the short of it.’
‘Wait,’ said Amazon. ‘Are you saying you want me to go to Siberia to help save this leopard?’
‘Our team,’ continued Dr Drexler, still cleaning his glasses, ‘is somewhat stretched at the moment. We’ve got a team out in Mozambique and another in Guatemala. Believe me, if there was an alternative, I’d take it. Do you think you’re, ah, up to it?’
Before Dr Drexler could put his glasses back on, Amazon had leapt out of bed.
‘I do believe that’s a yes,’ said Frazer.
Amazon froze. ‘But my parents … I almost forgot … Is there any news?’
‘Not yet, I’m afraid. But Mr Hunt – Hal Hunt, that is – has called in from Vancouver saying he has a number of leads. He actually suggested that it would be good to get you involved in the leopard rescue to help take your mind off … things.’
‘So who’s in the team?’ asked Bluey.
‘As I said, you three are all we can spare. Miss Coverdale, you’ll be heading up the expedition. You’ve been out there before, so you know what to expect.’
‘So you won’t be coming?’ asked Miranda.
‘No, Mr Hunt has asked me to stay on here with a skeleton crew. You’ll be met at Vladivostok by a Russian, Boris Lunakarski.’
‘This is sooooooo coooooooooool!’ said Frazer.
Amazon rolled her eyes, but still felt the excitement surging inside her.
‘Right,’ said Dr Drexler, ‘let’s get you kitted out – you leave tonight.’
That afternoon, Amazon asked Frazer if she could have a go on the X-Ark.
‘I reckon it’s the least you owe me,’ she said, and Frazer had to agree.
Frazer showed Amazon how to load the darts, and then he lined up some tin cans on a fence about ten metres away.
‘You have to allow for any wind that’s blowing. And the dart begins to dip after a –’
Amazon didn’t wait for him to finish. She pulled the trigger, and the middle can flew off the fence, struck by the dart.
Frazer stared at her open-mouthed.
‘I-I-I –’ was all he managed to say.
Amazon didn’t tell him that she’d aimed for the left-hand can. The shot was a fluke. However, she had an advantage over Frazer: she’d actually bothered to read the thick manual that came with the gun. Therefore she knew that she now had to adjust the sights, using a little dial on the side.
The next two shots took out the other two cans.
Amazon handed the gun back to Frazer, thinking that she’d got her sweet revenge on her cousin.
Two days and six thousand miles later, Amazon and Frazer, along with Bluey and Miranda Coverdale, were climbing stiffly out of an ancient Antonov An-2 biplane into a field surrounded by the thickly forested mountains of the Sikhote-Alin range.
The journey had been long and gruelling. First came the overnight flight by Boeing 747 from New York to Seoul in South Korea. Amazon had sat next to Miranda, hoping that as the two girls on the expedition they could do some bonding. But Miranda never dropped her guard, and talked exclusively about the practicalities of the mission.
It was the first time she’d been in charge and, like everything else, she took her responsibility very seriously. Amazon fell asleep as Miranda was telling her all about the importance of genetic diversity in the leopard population.
From Seoul they took a tatty old Russian Tupolev airliner on to Vladivostok, the once great home port of the Russian navy, now shabby and down-at-heel.
The plane was full of noisy Russian families, passing around food and shouting for attention from the grumpy stewards.
For their meal, they were each given an orange and a cracked plastic glass of black tea. When she looked in the seat pocket for a copy of the safety instructions, Amazon found something hairy. At first she thought it was a dead mouse, but then decided that it was more likely to be a long-abandoned orange that had grown a coat of furry fungus.
The passengers held their collective breath as the Tupolev began its descent, and then clapped and cheered when the plane bumped down safely at Vladivostok.
They were met in the shiny new terminal building by a giant Russian with untidy black hair and a moustache that looked bushy enough in which to hide a whole family of Amur leopards.
He strode up to them saying, in a voice that boomed like the end of the earth, ‘You call me Boris. Is not my real name, but you Americans like to call all Russians “Boris”. Am I right? Yes I am.’
As Amazon and Frazer were to find out, Boris liked to answer his own questions.
‘Where is man in charge?’
‘Here. I mean, I am in charge,’ said Miranda, stepping forward.
The Russian stared at Miranda, and then at the others, before breaking into a broad smile, showing a random collection of gold and black teeth.
‘Is American joke, yes? How is lady in charge? Job here not to make cake or go shopping for shoe, but to catch deadly animal which enjoy kill people.’
Whatever it was that Miranda said to the giant – speaking in fluent Russian and with a tone that was sharp enough to cut through sheet metal – Amazon would never find out. But it was enough to make Boris hold up his hands in mock surrender.
‘OK, OK,’ he said. ‘So you is boss. Boris just here to help save leopard, tiger, whatever. But I think
American lady more fierce than leopard and tiger.’ Then he bent down and said to Amazon, ‘You, little American girl, have you learned to be like tiger yet?’
‘I’m not an American,’ said Amazon rather snootily. ‘I’m English.’
‘Ah good. Then you be my very nice little English friend.’ The Russian picked her up as easily as you’d pick up a pencil. ‘I, Boris, protect you from all, for favourite food of leopard and tiger, is little girl. Also save from bear and wolf, who only eat little girl if nothing better, haha!’
Amazon squirmed out of his hairy-fingered grasp.
‘I don’t need protecting, thank you very much.’
‘That we see,’ said Boris. ‘You all follow now.’
‘I kinda like this guy,’ said Frazer as they trailed behind the giant.
‘He’s certainly a character,’ said Bluey.
‘So was Ivan the Terrible,’ said Amazon.
Frazer snorted, ‘I say we call him Boris the Bad.’
‘Let’s cut that out, guys,’ said Miranda. ‘He may be a clown, but Dr Drexler briefed me that Boris Lunakarski is a key man down here. He’s one of the main links between the conservationists and the regional government. Without him, nothing gets done. It’s not a good situation, but that’s the way it is.’
‘ALSO, BORIS NOT DEAF AND SPEAK ENGLISH GOOD!’ bellowed Boris without bothering to turn round.
The An-2 and its pilot were waiting for them in a remote corner of the airfield. The plane looked like something from an old movie or a museum of aviation history.
‘This thing has got way too many wings,’ said Frazer, looking at the biplane distrustfully. ‘I didn’t know you even got planes like that any more. Who’s going to fly it, the Red Baron?’
‘Is greatest aircraft in history of world,’ boomed Boris. ‘First fly in 1947. Sixty years ago and more. What American aircraft fly that long, eh? I tell you, diddly squat zero zilch, eh? Ha ha. After that long time American plane fall out of sky, like duck shot by I, Boris.’