Jack stared at him for a moment, but the man didn’t move. Jack found it difficult to read his expression because the man’s mustache obscured his mouth.
Jack turned to Warren. “Didn’t I give him enough?”
Warren shook his head. “I don’t think it’s going to happen.”
“You mean he just took my money and that’s that?” Jack asked.
“Be my guess,” Warren said.
Jack turned his attention back to the man in the black suit. Jack estimated he was about a hundred and fifty pounds, definitely on the thin side. For a moment Jack entertained the idea of getting out of the car and asking for his money back, but a glance at the soldiers made him think otherwise.
With a sigh of resignation Jack did a three-point turn and headed back the way they’d come.
“Phew!” Laurie said from the backseat. “I did not like that one bit.”
“You didn’t like it?” Jack questioned. “Now I’m pissed.”
“What’s plan B?” Warren asked.
Jack explained about his idea of approaching Cogo by boat from Acalayong. He had Warren look at the map. Given how long it had taken them to get where they were, he asked Warren to estimate how long it would take to get to Acalayong.
“I’d say three hours,” Warren said. “As long as the road stays good. The problem is we have to backtrack quite a way before heading south.”
Jack glanced at his watch. It was almost nine A.M. “That means we’d get there about noon. I’d judged we could get from Acalayong to Cogo in an hour, even in the world’s slowest boat. Say we stay in Cogo for a couple hours. I think we’d still get back at a reasonable hour. What do you guys say?”
“I’m cool,” Warren said.
Jack looked in the rearview mirror. “I could take you ladies back to Bata and come back tomorrow.”
“My only reservation about any of us going is those soldiers with the assault rifles,” Laurie said.
“I don’t think that’s a problem,” Jack said. “If they have soldiers at the gate then they don’t need them in the town. Of course there’s always the chance they patrol the waterfront, which would mean I’d be forced to use plan C.”
“What’s plan C?” Warren asked.
“I don’t know,” Jack said. “I haven’t come up with it yet.”
“What about you, Natalie?” Jack asked.
“I’m finding it all interesting,” Natalie said. “I’ll go along with the crowd.”
It took almost an hour to get to the point where a decision had to be made. Jack pulled to the side of the road.
“What’s it going to be, gang?” he asked. He wanted to be absolutely sure. “Back to Bata or on to Acalayong?”
“I think I’ll be more worried if you go by yourself,” Laurie said. “Count me in.”
“Natalie?” Jack said. “Don’t be influenced by these other crazies. What do you want to do?”
“I’ll go,” Natalie said.
“Okay,” Jack said. He put the car in gear and turned left toward Acalayong.
• • •
Siegfried got up from his desk with his coffee mug in hand and walked to the window overlooking the square. He was mystified. The Cogo operation had been up and running for six years and never had they had someone come to the gate house and request entrance. Equatorial Guinea was not a place people visited casually.
Siegfried took a swig of his coffee and wondered if there could be any connection between this abnormal event and the arrival of Taylor Cabot, the CEO of GenSys. Both were unanticipated, and both were particularly unwelcome since they came just when there was a major problem with the bonobo project. Until that unfortunate situation was taken care of, Siegfried didn’t want any stray people around, and he put the CEO in that category.
Aurielo poked his head in the door and said that Dr. Raymond Lyons was there and wished to see him.
Siegfried rolled his eyes. He didn’t want Raymond around, either. “Send him in,” Siegfried said reluctantly.
Raymond came into the room, looking as tanned and healthy as ever. Siegfried envied the man’s aristocratic appearance, and the fact that he had two good arms.
“Have you located Kevin Marshall yet?” Raymond demanded.
“No, we haven’t,” Siegfried said. He took immediate offense at Raymond’s tone.
“I understand it’s been forty-eight hours since he’s been seen,” Raymond said. “I want him found!”
“Sit down, Doctor!” Siegfried said sharply.
Raymond hesitated. He didn’t know whether to get angry or be intimidated by the manager’s sudden aggressiveness.
“I said sit!” Siegfried said.
Raymond sat. The white hunter with his horrid scar and limp arm could be imposing, particularly surrounded by evidence of his extensive kills.
“Let us clear up a point involving the chain of command,” Siegfried said. “I do not take orders from you. In fact, when you are here as a guest, you take orders from me. Is that understood?”
Raymond opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. He knew Siegfried was technically correct.
“And while we are talking so directly,” Siegfried added, “where is my retrieval bonus? In the past, I’ve always gotten it when the patient left the Zone on his way back to the States.”
“That’s true,” Raymond said tautly. “But there have been major expenses. Money is coming in shortly from new clients. You’ll be paid as soon as it comes in.”
“I don’t want you to think you can give me the run-around,” Siegfried warned.
“Of course not,” Raymond blurted out.
“And one other thing,” Siegfried said. “Isn’t there some way you can hasten the CEO’s departure? His presence here in Cogo is disrupting. Can’t you use the patient’s needs in some way?”
“I don’t see how,” Raymond said. “He’s been informed the patient is capable of traveling. What more can I say?”
“Think of something,” Siegfried said.
“I’ll try,” Raymond said. “Meanwhile, please locate Kevin Marshall. His disappearance concerns me. I’m afraid he might do something rash.”
“We believe he went to Cocobeach in Gabon,” Siegfried said. He was gratified with the appropriate subservience in Raymond’s voice.
“You’re sure he didn’t go to the island?” Raymond asked.
“We can’t be totally sure,” Siegfried admitted. “But we don’t think so. Even if he did, he wouldn’t be apt to stay there. He would have been back by now. It’s been forty-eight hours.”
Raymond stood up and sighed. “I wish he would turn up. Worrying about him is driving me up the wall, especially with Taylor Cabot here. It’s just something else in a long string of problems going on in New York that have threatened the program and made my life miserable.”
“We’ll continue to search,” Siegfried assured him. He tried to sound sympathetic, but in actuality, he was wondering how Raymond was going to respond when he heard the bonobos were being rounded up to be brought into the animal center. All other problems paled in the face of the animals killing each other.
“I’ll try to think of something to say to Taylor Cabot,” Raymond said as he started for the door. “If you could, I’d appreciate being informed the moment you hear about Kevin Marshall.”
“Certainly,” Siegfried said obligingly. He watched with satisfaction as the previously proud doctor beat a meek retreat. Just as Raymond disappeared from view, Siegfried remembered that Raymond was from New York.
Siegfried dashed to his door, catching Raymond on his way down the stairs.
“Doctor,” Siegfried called out with false deference.
Raymond paused and looked back.
“Do you happen to know a doctor by the name of Jack Stapleton?”
The blood drained from Raymond’s face.
This reaction was not lost on Siegfried. “I think you’d better come back into my office,” the manager said.
Siegfried
closed the door behind Raymond, who immediately wanted to know how in the world the name “Jack Stapleton” had come up.
Siegfried walked around his desk and sat down. He gestured toward a chair for Raymond. Siegfried was not happy. He’d briefly thought of relating the unexpected request for a site visit by strange doctors to Taylor Cabot. He’d not thought of relating it to Raymond.
“Just before you arrived I got an unusual call from our gate house,” Siegfried said. “The Moroccan guard told me that there was a van full of people who wanted to tour the facility. We’ve never had uninvited visitors before. The van was driven by Dr. Jack Stapleton of New York City.”
Raymond wiped the perspiration that had appeared on his forehead. Then he ran both hands simultaneously through his hair. He kept telling himself that this couldn’t be happening since Vinnie Dominick was supposed to have taken care of Jack Stapleton and Laurie Montgomery. Raymond hadn’t called to find out what had happened to the two; he didn’t really want to know the details. For twenty thousand dollars, details weren’t something he should have to worry about—or so he thought. If pressed, he would have guessed that Stapleton and Montgomery were somewhere floating in the Atlantic Ocean about now.
“Your reaction to this is starting to concern me,” Siegfried said.
“You didn’t let Stapleton and his friends in?” Raymond asked.
“No, of course not,” Siegfried said.
“Maybe you should have,” Raymond said. “Then we could have dealt with them. Jack Stapleton is a very big danger to the program. I mean, is there a way here in the Zone to take care of such people?”
“There is,” Siegfried said. “We just turn them over to the Equatoguinean minister of justice or the minister of defense along with a sizable bonus. Punishment is both discreet and very rapid. The government is eager to ensure that nothing threatens the goose that lays the golden egg. All we need to say is that they are seriously interfering with GenSys operations.”
“Then if they come back, I think you should let them in,” Raymond said.
“Perhaps you should tell me why,” Siegfried said.
“Do you remember Carlo Franconi?” Raymond asked.
“Carlo Franconi the patient?” Siegfried asked.
Raymond nodded.
“Of course,” Siegfried said.
“Well, it started with him,” Raymond said as he began the complicated story.
“You think it is safe?” Laurie asked. She was looking at a huge hollowed-out log canoe with a thatched canopy that was pulled halfway up the beach. On the back was a sizable, beat-up outboard motor. It was leaking fuel as evidenced by an opalescent scum that ringed the stern.
“Reportedly it goes all the way to Gabon twice a day,” Jack said. “That’s farther than Cogo.”
“How much rent did you have to pay?” Natalie asked. It had taken Jack a half hour of negotiations to get it.
“A bit more than I expected,” Jack said. “Apparently, some people rented one a couple of days ago, and it hasn’t been seen since. That episode has driven the rental price up, I’m afraid.”
“More than a hundred or less?” Warren asked. He, too, wasn’t impressed with the craft’s apparent seaworthiness. “Because if it was more than a C note you got took.”
“Well, let’s not quibble,” Jack said. “In fact, let’s get the show on the road unless you guys want to back out.”
There was a moment of silence while the group eyed each other.
“I’m not a great swimmer,” Warren admitted.
“I can assure you that we are not planning on going into the water,” Jack said.
“All right,” Warren said. “Let’s go.”
“You ladies concur?” Jack asked.
Both Laurie and Natalie nodded without a lot of enthusiasm. At the moment, the noonday sun was enervating. Despite being on the shore of the estuary, there was not a breath of air.
With the women positioned in the stern to help lift the bow, Jack and Warren pushed the heavy pirogue off the shore and jumped in one after the other. Everyone helped paddle out about fifty feet. Jack attended to the motor, compressing the small hand pump on top of the red fuel tank. He’d had a boat as a child on a lake in the Midwest and had a lot of experience fussing with an outboard.
“This canoe is a lot more stable than it looks,” Laurie said. Even with Jack moving around in the stern it was barely rocking.
“And no leaks,” Natalie said. “That was my concern.”
Warren stayed silent. He had a white-knuckle grip on the gunwale.
To Jack’s surprise, the engine started after only two pulls. A moment later, they were off, motoring almost due east. After the oppressive heat the breeze felt good.
The drive to Acalayong had been accomplished quicker than they’d anticipated, even though the road deteriorated in comparison to the road north of the Cogo turnoff. There was no traffic save for an occasional northward-bound van inconceivably packed with passengers. Even the luggage racks on the tops had two or three people holding on for dear life.
Acalayong had brought smiles to everyone’s face. It was indicated as a city on the map but turned out to consist of no more than a handful of tawdry concrete shops, bars, and a few hotels. There was a cinder-block police post with several men in dirty uniforms sprawled in rattan chairs in the shade of the porch. They’d eyed Jack and the others with soporific disdain as the van had passed by.
Although they had found the town comically honky-tonk and litter strewn, they’d been able to get something to eat and drink as well as procure the boat. With some unease, they’d parked the van in sight of the police station, hoping it would be there on their return.
“How long did you estimate it would take us?” Laurie shouted over the noise of the outboard. It was particularly loud because a portion of its cowling was missing.
“An hour,” Jack yelled back. “But the boat owner told me it would be more like twenty minutes. It’s apparently just around the headland directly ahead.”
At that moment, they were crossing the two-mile-wide mouth of Rio Congue. The jungle-covered shorelines were hazy with mist. Thunderheads loomed above; two thunderstorms had hit while they’d been in the van.
“I hope we don’t get caught out here in the rain,” Natalie said. But Mother Nature ignored her wish. Less than five minutes later, it was pouring so hard that some of the huge drops splashed river water into the boat. Jack slowed the engine and allowed the boat to guide itself, while he joined the others under the thatched canopy. To everyone’s pleasant surprise, they stayed completely dry.
As soon as they rounded the headland, they saw Cogo’s pier. Constructed of heavy pressure-treated timber, it was a far cry from the rickety docks at Acalayong. As they got closer, they could see there was a floating portion off the tip.
The first view of Cogo impressed everyone. In contrast with the dilapidated and haphazardly constructed buildings with flat, corrugated metal roofs endemic to Bata and all of Acalayong, Cogo was comprised of attractive, tiled, whitewashed structures reflecting a rich colonial ambiance. To the left and almost hidden by the jungle was a modern power station. Its presence was obvious only because of its improbably tall smokestack.
Jack cut the engine way back as the town approached so they could hear each other speak. Tied along the dock were several pirogues similar to the one they were in, though these others were piled high with fish netting.
“I’m glad to see other boats,” Jack said. “I was afraid our canoe would stand out like a sore thumb.”
“Do you think that large, modern building is the hospital?” Laurie said while pointing.
Jack followed her line of sight. “Yup, at least according to Arturo, and he should know. He was part of the initial building crew out here.”
“I suppose that’s our destination,” Laurie said.
“I’d guess,” Jack said. “At least initially. Arturo said the animal complex is a few miles away in the jungle. We might try to f
igure out a way to get out there.”
“The town is bigger than I expected,” Warren said.
“I was told it was an abandoned Spanish colonial town,” Jack explained. “Not all of it has been renovated, but from here it sure looks like it has.”
“What did the Spanish do here?” Natalie asked. “It’s nothing but jungle.”
“They grew coffee and cocoa,” Jack said. “At least that’s my understanding. Of course, I don’t have any idea where they grew it.”
“Uh-oh, I see a soldier,” Laurie said.
“I see him, too,” Jack said. His eyes had been searching along the waterfront as they came closer.
The soldier was dressed in the same jungle camouflage fatigues and red beret as the ones at the gate. He was aimlessly pacing a cobblestone square immediately at the base of the pier with an assault rifle slung over his shoulder.
“Does that mean we switch to plan C?” Warren questioned teasingly.
“Not yet,” Jack said. “Obviously, he’s where he is to interdict people coming off the pier. But look at that Chickee Hut built on the beach. If we got in there, we’d be home free.”
“We can’t just run the canoe up onto the beach,” Laurie said. “He’ll see that as well.”
“Look how high that pier is,” Jack said. “What if we were to slip underneath, beach the canoe there and then walk to the Chickee Hut? What do you think?”
“Sounds cool,” Warren said. “But this boat is not going to fit under that pier, no way.”
Jack stood up and made his way over to one of the poles that supported the thatched roof. It disappeared into a hole in the gunwale. Grasping it with both hands, he pulled it up. “How convenient!” he said. “This canoe is a convertible.”
A few minutes later, they had all the poles out, and the thatched roof had been converted to a pile of sticks and dried leaves. They distributed it along both sides under the benches.
“The owner’s not going to be happy about this,” Natalie commented.
Jack angled the boat so that the pier shielded them as much as possible from the line of sight from the square. Jack cut the engine just at the moment they glided into the shade under the pier. Grasping the timbers they guided the boat toward shore, being careful to duck under crossbeams.