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'All they've done is kill people,' I said. 'Everything else is in perfect order. It doesn't make sense. I'd have expected them to put a torch to the buildings, just to finish things off.'

'They wouldn't dare,' he said. 'Another superstition. The spirits of those they have killed need somewhere to live.'

Hannah moved out of the church and called to us. When we joined him he was shaking with rage. Father Conte lay flat on his back just inside the door, an arrow in his throat. From his position, I'd say he had probably been standing on the porch facing his attackers when hit. His eyes had gone, probably one of the vultures which I had noticed perched on the church roof. Most terrible thing of all, his cassock had been torn away and his chest hacked open with a machete.

Hannah said, 'Now why would they do a thing like that?'

'They admired his courage. They imagine that by eating his heart, they take some of his bravery into themselves.'

Which just about finished Hannah off and he looked capable of anything as Alberto said, 'There are two nuns missing. We know they're not inside anywhere so we'll split up again and work our way down through the mission in a rough line. They're probably face-down in the grass somewhere.'

But they weren't, or at least we couldn't find them. When we gathered again at the jetty, Hannah said, 'Maybe they went into the water like the first one we found?'

'All the others were either in their middle years or older,' Alberto said. 'These two, the two who are missing, are much younger than that. Twenty or twenty-one. No more.'

'You think they've been taken alive?' I asked him.

'It could well be. Like many tribes, they like to freshen the blood occasionally. They frequently take in young women, keep them until the baby is born then murder them.'

'For God's sake, let's get out of here,' Hannah said. 'I've had about all I can take.' He turned and hurried to the end of the jetty and boarded the canoe.

There wasn't much more we could do anyway so we joined him and paddled back downstream. The journey was completely uneventful. When we drifted in to the jetty at the edge of the campo, Lima was waiting for us looking more nervous than ever.

'Everything all right here?' Alberto demanded.

Lima said anxiously, 'I don't know, Colonel.' He nodded towards the green curtain of jungle. 'You know what it's like. You keep imagining that someone is standing on the other side, watching you.'

Forest foxes started to bark in several different directions at once. Alberto said calmly, 'I suggest we walk back to the plane quietly and get inside with the minimum of fuss. I think we're being watched.'

'The foxes?' I said.

'Aren't foxes - not at this time in the morning.'

The walk to the plane was an experience in itself and I expected an arrow in the back at any moment. But nothing happened. We all got inside without incident and I took the controls.

I taxied to the end of the campo. As I turned into the wind, an Indian emerged from the jungle and stood on the edge of the clearing watching us, face painted for war, magnificent in a head-dress of parrot feathers, a spear in one hand, a six-foot bow in the other.

Hannah picked up one of the machine-guns and reached for the window. Alberto caught his arm. 'No, leave it. Our turn will come.'

As we moved past, another figure emerged from the forest, then another and another. I don't think I have ever felt happier than when I lifted the Hayley over the trees at the edge of the campo, stamped on the rudder and swung north.

*

There was no landing strip at Forte Franco for the simple reason that the post had been built on an island strategically situated at the mouth of the Negro about a century before the Wright brothers first left the ground.

We radioed the bad news ahead the moment we were in range, just to get things moving, then put down at Landro. Alberto wasted little time in getting under way. He ordered his men to prepare the launch for a quick departure then went into Landro with Hannah to