Dealer

Chapter One: Heat Billions of insects fizzed about in the sunset. James and Bruce had given up trying to swat them off. The boys had jogged ten kilometers along a twisted gravel path. It was uphill, heading towards a villa where two eight-year-olds were being held hostage."Better give us a minute," James huffed, leaning forward and resting his palms against his knees. "I'm wiped."If James had wrung out his T-shirt, he could have filled a mug with sweat."I'm a year younger than you," Bruce said impatiently. "You should be the one pushing me. It's that gut you're carrying."James looked down at himself. "Give over, I'm hardly fat.""Not exactly thin either. You're gonna get crucified at your next medical. They'll put you on a diet and make you run all that off."James straightened up and drank some water from his canteen."It's not my fault, Bruce. It's genetic. You should have seen the size of my mum before she died."Bruce laughed. "There were three Toffee Crisp and one Snickers wrapper in our bin last night. That's not genetic, that's being a pig.""We can't all have little stick-insect bodies like you," James said, bitterly. "Are you ready?""We might as well check the map now we've stopped," Bruce said. "See how far it is to the villa."James got a map out of his pack. Bruce had a GPS clipped on his shorts. The tiny unit told you your exact position anywhere on the planet to within a couple of meters. Bruce transposed the coordinates on to the map and used his finger to trace the winding gravel path towards the villa."Time to go off road," Bruce said. "It's less than half a kilometer away.""It's really steep," James said, "and the ground crumbles around here. It's gonna be a nightmare.""Well," Bruce said, "unless your plan is to walk up to the front gate of the villa, ring the doorbell, and say, 'Excuse me love, can we have our hostages back?' I think we'd better cut into the bushes."Bruce had a point. James gave up trying to fold the map properly and stuffed it in his pack. Bruce led the way into the scrub, the tinder-dry plants crunching under his trainers. It hadn't rained on the island for two months. There'd been bush fires in the east. When the sky was clear, you could see the plumes of smoke.James's damp skin soon had a coating of grit. He grabbed on to plants, using them to pull his way up the steep slope. You had to be careful: some plants had barbs, others erupted from the dry ground as soon as you pulled on them, leaving you holding a clump of roots, clutching desperately for something sturdier before you tumbled backwards.When the reached the wire fence around the villa, they backed up a few meters and lay flat on the ground, collecting their thoughts. Bruce was moaning something about his hand."What are you whinging about?" James asked.Bruce showed James his palm. Even in the half-light, James could see the blood trickling down Bruce's arm."How'd you do that?"Bruce shrugged. "Somewhere coming up the hill. I didn't realize until we stopped.""I'd better clean it up for you."James tipped some water out of his canteen, washing away most of the blood. He got a first aid kit out of his pack; then lit a small torch and clamped it between his teeth, so he could see what he was doing while keeping both hands free. A thorn bulged under the webbing between Bruce's middle fingers."Nasty," James said. "Does it hurt?""What kind of stupid question is that?" Bruce snapped. "Of course it does.""Am I supposed to pull it out?" James asked."Yes," Bruce said wearily. "Do you ever listen in class? Always remove splinters, unless there is severe and profuse bleeding, or you suspect you've punctured a vein or artery. Then apply disinfectant and a clean dressing or sticking plaster.""You sound like you swallowed the textbook," James said."I was on the same first aid course as you, James. Only I didn't spenMuchamore, Robert is the author of 'Dealer', published 2005 under ISBN 9780689877803 and ISBN 0689877803.