Hekura Page 8

  "Simply nightmarish."

  Austin turned to Jeremy and Bisari. "What the bloody fuck is this? I've seen animal attacks before, but nothing this powerful. I mean, look at the ruddy flaps of skin—bloody well turned him inside out."

  Bisari ignored the question, "Mr. Stewart, the natives aren't coming back."

  "Of course they bloody aren't. You'd have to be off your trolley to stay aboard this catastrophic excuse for an expedition. I knew I should have told Senske to sod off when I had the chance," Austin shouted.

  "How are we supposed to find the plant without them?" Jeremy asked as he kicked at the dirt. "Cofrade, we need this payday or we’re gonna wish we looked as good as this poor bastard."

  Austin looked away, gripping the back of his sunburned neck, exasperated.

  After a moment, Bisari said sheepishly, "I know where the plant is."

  "You?"

  "I was with them the day we made the collection."

  "Why didn't you tell us that before?" Jeremy asked. Austin just stared at him angrily.

  The man didn't answer.

  "Bisari, why didn't you—"

  "I will show you where the plant is for 40,000 bolívars."

  "You wanted us to be fully committed to this trip before you said anything so you could extort us," Austin said, his face becoming red.

  "I'm tired of living in the jungle, Mr. Stewart. I want a normal life. Like you said before, I'm underpaid for all I do for the company." Bisari removed his ball cap and ran his finger over the worn Yankees insignia. He looked apologetic, but resolute.

  "I'm not in a position to make that agreement, Bisari," Austin said, his voice low. Resigned.

  "Contact your people, then. I know you brought a satellite phone with you."

  "I can't believe this," Austin mumbled as he turned back toward the camp. "It's blackmail. Bloody blackmail."

  Upon their return to camp, they found the research team shouldering their gear.

  "Ready to continue on?" the pilot asked with artificial enthusiasm as he dug in his bag for the satellite phone. He hoped Senske was in a generous mood.

  "We're not going on," Olivia said defiantly. "We're returning to the landing strip."

  "What?"

  "No plant is worth a man's life. Whatever is out there could kill again, and there's no way we're going to take that chance." She looked sickly, her beauty dulled by her sudden violent sickness and shock.

  "I'm willing to stay, Mr. Stewart. I'm not afraid of some jungle cat," Christian said, indifferently scraping the sauce from the bottom of the ravioli can with his spoon. He slyly glanced at Olivia to see if she'd noticed his unflinching confidence.

  "Can you identify the plant?" Austin asked the research assistant.

  "I don't know. Probably."

  Olivia frowned at Austin and shook her head subtly.

  "I'm going to need more than a probably. Olivia, can I speak with you in private for a moment?" Austin asked, letting the satellite phone drop back into his bag.

  "No, I don't think that's necessary."

  "Ma'am, I'd appreciate it if you'd show me the simple courtesy of hearing my appeal."

  Olivia sighed, and then muttered, "Fine."

  The two walked a short distance away before Austin spoke. His voice was soft, a tired plea for her cooperation.

  "Olivia, the tribesmen are gone, and they aren't coming back."

  "All the more reason to turn around and go home, Austin. We'll never find the plant without them."

  "That's where this becomes really mad. Bisari claims to know where to find the plant we’re interested in, but he's demanding 40,000 bolívars before he’ll continue on."

  "Let's just leave, then." She looked at him closely. His face looked especially gaunt, even for a man with his lean physique. But his eyes—bright, blue eyes—shined brilliantly with an indomitable spirit.

  "Olivia, if this plant is what they say it is, we could be the ones to find the cure for cancer. That has to mean something to you."

  "But I know it doesn't mean anything to you. My guess is, you stand to make a whole lot of money on this, and you only care about the plant insofar as it brings you a big payday. I'm sorry Austin, but your desire for wealth doesn't rival my concern for my people. Besides, we can always come back for the plant later with a better-equipped team."

  She had him pegged. Sure, Olivia could tell that he needed this payday, but she didn't realize how much, or the real reason why. Austin briefly imagined his severed head taxidermied like wild game and mounted above Alvarez's mantle.

  Frustrated, the pilot grabbed his ball cap by the bill and flung it into the bushes, turning away from the researcher as he ran his hands through his hair. They were wasting valuable time.

  Crossing her arms and looking at the dirt, Olivia said quietly, "Tell me where you were last night and I'll stay."

  "What? You're blackmailing me now, too? You've all gone barmy."

  "Just tell me where you were."

  "It's none of your affair."

  "If I'm going to continue on, I need to know the risks and who I can trust."

  "You're going to challenge my trustworthiness? I'm the only one on this bleeding expedition who has his head on straight."

  "Then why won't you tell me?"

  Closing the distance between them, Austin grabbed Olivia's shoulder and pushed her against a tree, his face inches from hers.

  "Listen to me closely, Doctor. Prying into my business is an excellent way to end up like that body you saw this morning." His smoky breath felt warm against her lips, and for a moment, despite the awful timing, she felt the urge to kiss him. That feeling was quickly replaced by the urge to punch him.

  "Are you threatening me, Mr. Stewart?"

  "It's not me you have to worry about, miss," he said, releasing her. "You may not have noticed, but I've been looking out for your welfare since we left. Believe me when I tell you that not knowing some things will keep you safer than if you did know."

  Reaching into the bushes to recover his hat, Austin turned and marched back to camp, Olivia close behind.

  "What's it going to be, Dr. Dover?" Jeremy asked as the researcher returned.

  Looking first at Austin as he angrily secured his bag, and then to her team, she sighed. Ignoring everything her intuition told her, the scientist answered softly, "This plant is too important to the scientific community to abandon. We'll continue on. Right Henri? Christian?"

  The two men, surprised at her change in perspective, nodded dumbly.

  She looked at Austin, frowning. Though she didn't know why the man was so committed to this assignment, she wasn't ready to throw in the towel yet, either.

  "What about my payment?" Bisari asked.

  Tossing the sat phone to Olivia, Austin said, "Doctor, you're going to need to negotiate a discretionary spending account for the trip. Bisari needs 50,000 bolívars."

  The guide grinned at the inflated price.

  Reluctantly dialing her supervisor's office phone, Olivia said, "I'll see what I can do."

  SEVENTEEN

  A howler monkey splashed through the branches above as Christian traipsed through the brush, in line with the others. The speaker buds stuffed in his ears crashed out a soft cacophony of noise the others could hear over their footsteps. He looked pale. Every half hour, he'd needed to stop, rushing into the weeds to relieve himself. His walk had turned to a reluctant trudge, and he made no effort to push aside brush or branches, instead letting them slide off his chest and upper arms as he used his body weight to push forward.

  Looking back at Christian as he shoved through the underbrush, Austin yelled, "Megadeth?"

  Popping one of the buds from his ear, Christian's eyes lit up, "Yeah, how'd you know?"

  "I can hear it through your earphones."

  "You a fan?"

  "I've always been more of a post-Mustaine Metallica man. Mustaine's voice is a little…what's a good word? Unpolished."

  "But the man can shred."
>
  "No argument from me, there."

  The young researcher laughed. "Damn, I figured you'd be into The Who or the Beatles."

  "Why, because I'm British? That would be like me saying I figured you'd be into Elvis since you're an American. How old do you think I am, anyway?" Looking at the intern more closely, the Brit dropped his contentious tone and asked, "You feeling all right, mate? You look a bit lurgy."

  "My stomach’s upset."

  "What’ve you had to eat besides your canned ravioli this morning?"

  "Energy bars, mostly," Christian said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a large nest of foil wrappers.

  "Lot of fiber. Eat something else for a while, and keep drinking water or you’ll dehydrate yourself."

  "I’ll keep that in mind, thanks." Dropping the ear buds from his head and letting them swing as he walked, Christian glanced at the pilot before asking in a low voice, "So did you actually smuggle guns before you came to Hygeia?"

  The others listened carefully without interrupting, hoping Austin would explain. Even Jeremy glanced at his friend expectantly.

  Brow furrowed, Austin turned and locked eyes with the intern, a thinly veiled tempestuous rage behind his stare. "What I did or didn't do in a past life is just that—in the past. I'd prefer to leave it there." Austin turned his attention to Olivia and changed the subject. "Did Senske give you any trouble about Bisari’s pay?"

  She shook her head. "She didn’t seem too concerned. I mean, it’s just a little over 10,000 American dollars—pocket change to the company given how much they stand to make on this plant."

  Everyone grew solemn as they continued. Olivia's words had reminded them all that, regardless of any perceptions they might have about the nobility of their mission, it all came down to doing dirty work so faceless corporate executives could reap the benefits.

  "You wouldn't believe the staggering diversity of wildlife living above us right now," Henri exclaimed suddenly, in an effort to improve the mood. "The understory layer is its own ecosystem, with its own set of predators, prey, and plant life."

  "Yeah? You see our plant up there?" Jeremy asked, ducking under a low branch.

  "Well, no."

  "How about that one? Is that it, Dr. Dover?" he asked, pointing at a fern near his foot, knowing perfectly well it wasn't the Taxus bromelieaceae.

  "No. That's not it."

  "How about that one?" This time, he pointed at the round yellow fruits hanging from the branches of an abiu tree.

  "That's a tree, Jeremy. Taxus bromelieaceae is a bromeliad. A monocot flowering plant. The leaves should be vivid red, broad and flat, and growing in a rosette pattern."

  "So it's most definitely not that one, right there," he said, pointing a few feet ahead.

  "That's a rock, Jeremy," she said flatly. She knew the Brazilian was just having harmless fun at her expense, but it irritated her, all the same.

  "Hmm. We'll just have to keep looking, then," Jeremy said, feigning puzzlement.

  A sudden cracking noise caused the procession to stop.

  "What was that?" Austin asked.

  "A broken branch," Bisari answered plainly. "Nothing to worry about."

  Suddenly, the earth beneath their feet collapsed, a deep, spiked pit opening up below as the thin screen of branches, leaves, and dirt spanning its width gave under their weight. Austin and Jeremy each instinctively lunged for opposite edges of the pit, the Brazilian pushing Olivia clear of danger as Henri latched onto Austin's bag.

  Christian and Bisari, both on steady ground, dropped to a knee and grabbed Austin's wrists, the Brit's fingers digging into the soft dirt, clutching for any handhold firm enough to support his and Henri's combined weight.

  "I’m slipping!" the Frenchman yelled, his fingers straining as he swung precariously over the sharpened wood poles.

  Jeremy shuffled up the side of the pit and ran around the hole, giving it a wide berth, before shoving Christian to the side and seizing Austin's shirtfront in an iron grip.

  "Grab him, Austin!" the Brazilian urged.

  Twisting his torso, the Brit reached down and wrapped a fistful of the Frenchman's shirt in his hand; then began pulling him toward the pit's edge, the veins in his arm and neck pushing against the skin as he struggled.

  "Grab the bloody edge, old man," he groaned.

  The satellite phone—stuffed carelessly in the top of the Frenchman's pack—teetered precariously over the abyss. Though struggling to maintain his grip, Henri reached a hand over his shoulder, grasping for the device.

  "Throw the phone to me, Doctor," Christian shouted. Henri grunted as he stretched his arm over his neck, barely managing to grab the phone's antennae, and clumsily tossed the device in his assistant's direction. It fell short of the young man's hands, bounced against the lip of the pit, and clattered to the hole's stone-lined bottom.

  Christian cursed.

  Mustering the last of his strength, Austin swung Henri to the edge of the crater, the researcher managing a firm-enough hold to support himself for a moment. With the two men no longer in immediate danger of falling, the others began working to lift them up and out.

  "What the hell was that?" Christian asked.

  "Looks like a rudimentary animal trap," Henri panted, dusting the dirt from Austin's coat as they looked down at the pit. "Almost worked."

  "Damn near," Jeremy said, patting Austin's arm. "You all right?"

  "Nearly pissed myself, but yeah, I'm all right. What the hell is this doing here?" he asked, looking to Bisari. The man shrugged.

  "None of the tribes in this area build traps. I don't know what this is doing here, or who could have made it."

  Austin peeked over the edge at the sharpened spikes. "The phone is down there."

  "I'll get it," Jeremy said, cracking his knuckles as he stared at the deep crater. "But you'd better let me down gently, you motherfucker," he said, looking at Austin with a smirk. Bisari dug into his bag and pulled out a 20-foot length of braided rope he used for building lean-to shelters on rainy nights. Passing one end to Jeremy, the guide tied the other around the trunk of a nearby tree. Wrapping the line behind his back, the copilot rappelled into the pit. Bouncing down the edge, careful to avoid the spears, he picked up the shattered device. "Yep, we're fucked."

  "Bad as all that?" Austin asked.

  Fingering the broken pieces as he attempted to power-up the phone, Jeremy sighed, "The receiver's busted. I don’t know, man." He tossed the mangled device out of the hole and began climbing, hand over hand, up the rope and out of the pit.

  "I'm sorry, everyone. I should have packed it in my bag more carefully," Henri said remorsefully, his cheeks red.

  "Yeah, you've turned out to be something of a barmpot, mate. I wouldn't suggest taking up surgery anytime soon," Austin chuckled as he slapped the Frenchman on the back.

  "It's all right, Henri," Olivia said. "Hopefully we won't need it anymore this trip."

  "Let's take a break, folks," Jeremy sighed, looping the rope repeatedly around his palm and elbow before handing it back to Bisari. "Should give everyone a chance to slow their heart rates and clean the shit out of their shorts."

  Christian walked into the bushes to relieve himself, scratching at his scalp as he unclasped his belt. Olivia sat down dejectedly atop her bag and stared at Austin's back as he joined Bisari and Jeremy a few yards away, the three huddling around the GPS.

  "Are you all right, Olivia?" Henri asked, sitting down beside her and patting her knee. "I am truly sorry about the satellite phone. That was clumsy of me."

  Smiling at her mentor, Olivia said, "You know that's not it. That was a close call, though."

  "It was. But I sense that isn't what you're upset about."

  She opened her mouth to speak, stopped, and looked at her mentor doubtfully. Finally, she whispered, "It's just that, Austin…I mean, Mr. Stewart…is a very peculiar man."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He's hiding something. I asked him where he and Mr. Ba
rreto were last night during the attack, and he wouldn't tell me. He got pretty aggressive about it."

  "He didn’t hurt you, did he?" Henri asked, his voice crossed between concern and a father's fury at the thought of someone injuring her.

  "No. But he made it clear I shouldn't ask about it again. Said it was for my safety that I didn't know, as if that makes any sense at all."

  "It's best to leave him be, I think. Such men can’t mean anything but trouble to a sweet girl like you. You've only been apart from Terry for a few months, and you've already forgotten what his kind are about, haven't you?"

  "I haven't forgotten anything," she said bitterly. "I'm just concerned that his secrecy may have a negative impact on this expedition."

  "You're sure that's where your interest stops?" Henri taunted.

  She almost replied angrily, but seeing the kind glow in her mentor's aquamarine eyes and his gentle smile, she pushed his arm playfully. "Shut up."

  EIGHTEEN

  Rain pattered through the branches above, only a few drops at first, quickly transitioning to a soaking downpour. The undergrowth became indistinct and dark. Austin shuffled his backpack to the other shoulder, the rain pooling inside a deep crease in the fabric of the jacket rolled up and tied to his pack's top.

  "It's getting dark. We'd better stop for the night and set up some kind of defensible position," Jeremy said nervously, straining his eyes to catch the slightest movement in the bushes around them.

  Tracking down the body of the tribesman and the near miss with the animal trap had slowed them down tremendously. They'd made none of the progress they'd hoped, and full darkness was nearly upon them. Bisari trudged on at the front of the pack, planting the butt stock of his shotgun in the dirt, using it as a walking stick.

  "We should be close to where you found the plant, right Bisari?" Austin asked urgently.

  "Very close, Mr. Stewart."

  "Seems like it's getting kinda quiet out here," Christian said, blinking the raindrops from his eyes as he stepped closer to the group. "Didn't you say something about only worrying when the jungle gets quiet?"