Insects: Braga's Gold

by John Koloen

  If only he had someone to talk to. He couldn’t talk to Maggie about it. The only other person he talked to with any regularity, other than his lawyer, was one of the hotel’s bartenders whose English was little better than Duncan’s Portuguese. But his favorite topic was futebol and the political situation in Brazil, neither of which interested the American. In his final effort at equanimity, he called Carolyn a fourth time, with the same result. That was the breaking point. Like a spurned lover, he turned on her one hundred eighty degrees. She was using him. She couldn’t be trusted. Sitting in his room, he imagined what he would say if and when she called. Fuck you would be the first words out of his mouth and for good measure he’d throw the phone against the wall so hard the hotel would add drywall repairs to his bill. But he didn’t care at that point. Fuck her and the train she came in on, he thought, livid as his sense of betrayal would permit him, Cody Boyd now an afterthought.

  61

  When morning came he wished an earlier flight were available. He wanted nothing more than to board the next plane out, no matter its destination just so it wasn’t Brazil. He even went so far as to look for flights on his laptop while having breakfast of coffee and a grilled cheese sandwich in the hotel restaurant. His anger of the previous day had abated in the wake of second thoughts. Perhaps there was a legitimate reason for Carolyn’s behavior. Perhaps she was a victim of the company’s secretiveness. Perhaps they lied to her. There was no doubt in his mind that they were acting illegally by harvesting specimens without an export license. They did it once before that he knew of. Why would they not do it again should it serve their interests?

  Perhaps it was the fact that he was on the verge of heading to the airport that he was feeling more generous toward her. She could be a victim of circumstance just as much as he had been. He scolded himself for having jumped to conclusions. In any event, there was nothing he could do about it now that he was only hours away from ending his exile. His mind leaped ahead, ticking off how things would unfold—packing his belongings, settling the bill, call an Uber, suffering through the boarding procedure so that he could take his window seat and breathe a well-deserved sigh of relief as the plane taxied to the runway. Thinking about Boyd would only ruin it.

  Back in his room, what he imagined started turning into reality. The roll-on packed, laptop in his daypack, he checked the room to make certain he hadn’t forgotten anything when the room phone rang. It was the front desk.

  “You have a visitor, Senhor Howard,” the man said and hung up before Duncan could ask who it was.

  62

  Duncan wasn’t sure what to think. Cody Boyd was the only person in Brazil who knew where he stayed, other than his attorney who had no reason to call him. The timing was unbelievable. Boyd’s presence would instantly dissolve the sometimes unpleasant interaction he’d had with Carolyn, whom he felt obligated to help but only if he could catch his flight out of the country. If push came to shove, he told himself, he would have done everything he could to find Boyd, as much due to the pleadings of the young wife as to his own sense of honor and loyalty. Even though how far he would go had yet to be established, since it all depended on a call from Carolyn that never came, he was freed from making the decision. He wouldn’t have to go any farther than the lobby to find him. This could not have worked out better for him.

  Hurrying out of the room with his belongings, Duncan approached the front desk with the confident stride of a tourist.

  “You called me about a visitor?” he asked the desk clerk, who pointed to an arm chair in a corner of the compact lobby.

  Duncan wheeled around, prepared to warmly embrace his former protégé, but something was wrong. His expression morphed from joy to slack-jawed bewilderment. It wasn’t his friend. It was his friend’s wife, all five-six and one hundred thirty pounds of her, looking as if she had slept in her clothes but smiling, energetically rising from her chair, her right hand extended awkwardly as she approached him.

  “I’m sorry. I knew if I told you what I was doing you would have told me not to come. But I don’t know what else to do. The company doesn’t care about Cody and I’m hoping you do.”

  “You gotta give me a minute,” he said in hushed tones, unable to disguise his agitation. “This is not good, Carolyn. This is not good at all. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

  “I’m very sorry, Dr. Duncan, but I don’t have any choice. I understand you need to leave, and you go ahead and leave, but I’m gonna find him even if I have to do it alone. I was afraid you’d be gone by the time I got here but I just had to take the chance on seeing you.”

  Duncan asked the clerk to put his roll-on and daypack where it would be safe and led Carolyn to a painted cast iron cafe table in the courtyard, where they could talk privately.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Duncan confessed. “To tell you the truth, I thought maybe you were Cody and everything would be back to normal. This is really unexpected.”

  “I know. I know,” she said contritely. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you but it’s been nearly a week since I heard from him. He should’ve been back by now.”

  “You haven’t upset me,” Duncan said defensively.

  “Oh, I know I have. It’s okay. I expected you to be upset. In fact, I knew there was a good chance you wouldn’t even be here.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “Cody told me about seeing you.”

  “I guess he was disappointed I didn’t go with him, huh?”

  “He was but he kinda expected it. I mean, you got your own problems from what I understand.”

  “I did but they’re behind me now.”

  “And now I’m a new problem, huh?”

  Duncan glanced at his watch.

  “I know you’re in a hurry, and this is hard for me, but—”

  Sniffling, tears welling in her reddened eyes, she struggled to finish her sentence while Duncan watched hoping she would regain herself but not certain what to do if she didn’t.

  “I told myself I wouldn’t do this,” she said sniffling. “I told myself I wouldn’t let my emotions get in the way. My friends told me there was nothing I could do but I just couldn’t accept that. And when the company told me they were just gonna wait and see what happens, I lost it.”

  Duncan sighed, sympathetic to her situation but uncertain where his priorities lay. He couldn’t just get up and abandon her. It would shatter his self-image as a responsible person and reveal his personal value system as a fraud. He could never forgive himself, that much he knew. At the same time, the way she was looking at him, expectant and tearful, he scoured his brain for the appropriate thing to say that wouldn’t lead to a full-scale meltdown. She’d been under enormous stress and the one thing he didn’t want to do was to make it worse.

  “You look like you could use a cup of coffee,” he said affably.

  63

  Duncan didn’t think he’d give in. It was not his plan. It took a moment for Carolyn to collect herself. Being emotional wouldn’t help her husband. She knew that. But it was a struggle. Duncan tried to provide a shoulder to cry on, but he was running out of time. If he didn’t get a ride to the airport soon, he’d miss his flight.

  “They told me Cody signed a contract. It said the company provided funding but Cody was responsible for everything else and if something went wrong it was on him and not them. I couldn’t believe it.”

  “That’s why they hire contractors, sorry to say.”

  “Cody didn’t tell me.”

  “He probably didn’t see it. It’s the kinda thing a lawyer might catch and I’ll bet a lawyer never looked at it.”

  “I know,” she said. “Sometimes I get angry at him but I went along with it, too. We even celebrated, like he’d be taking a trip and in no time we’d be house hunting. I feel so guilty now.”

  Duncan shook his head, glancing surreptitiously at his watch.

  “How can I put this? It’s not your fault and it’s not Cody’s fault. And Biodynamism does
n’t care.”

  Carolyn leaned over her cup, a tear dripped from her cheek, rippling in the coffee. Drawing her hands across her cheeks, she wiped the tears away, smiling weakly.

  “I kinda figured it would work out this way,” she said, sniffling, “though I didn’t want to believe it.”

  “Believe what?”

  “That I, we, would be abandoned. That Cody would be on his own and it would be up to me to help him.”

  Duncan smiled lamely.

  “I know you’re late,” she said. “You should go. I’m glad we got to talk. I’m better now.”

  Duncan toyed with his cup. He stroked his neck, then brushed his hair back, exhaling resignedly.

  “It’s okay,” she said, reaching across the table to put her hand over his. “You should go.”

  Duncan rose slowly. Carolyn stared at the table top, avoiding eye contact.

  “Where are you staying?” Duncan asked.

  “I haven’t thought about it,” she said without looking up. “What difference does it make?”

  “There’s a lot of crime in Manaus. It’s important you stay in a safe place.”

  She shrugged. She hadn’t given a thought to her own safety, as focused as she was on her husband’s. And she was bracing herself for the emptiness she knew she would feel as soon as Duncan left.

  “You should just go,” she said softly.

  64

  Duncan dreaded making the call he knew he had to make. But the sooner he made it the better. Rehearsing in his mind what he wanted to say only increased his anxiety. But he had to act quickly. There was so much he had to do and he couldn’t afford to waste time.

  “I know, I know what I said,” Duncan pleaded. The conversation started well until the bottom dropped out of it. That was when Duncan told Maggie he’d missed his flight. From there he wedged in a vague suggestion that he had something he needed to do. Then he mentioned the thing itself.

  “And I want to be with you more than anything, but I can’t just abandon Cody like fucking Biodyn, pardon my French. He’s my friend.”

  “So am I.”

  “You’re more than a friend. I’d take a bullet for you.”

  “You wouldn’t take a bullet for Cody?”

  “I don’t know. I was his boss, you know. Bosses don’t take bullets, do they?”

  Maggie chuckled.

  “Damn you, Howard Duncan. You make me laugh. I should be angry with you. And I’m afraid and I don’t understand why it has to be you instead of someone else.”

  “There’s no one else.”

  Duncan could hear her sigh through the phone.

  “You know I love you.”

  “Yes. And I love you. But that doesn’t change the fact that I want you to come home. I know your friend needs you, but so do I.”

  “It’s not you versus him,” Duncan said, emphatically. “I’m aware of the risks and I do not plan to do anything reckless.”

  “It’s not what you plan,” she said quickly. “It’s what you can’t plan for that concerns me.”

  Duncan groaned. There was nothing he could say that didn’t result either in another layer of questions or apprehensions. He had no answers for many of them. After convincing Carolyn to take a room at the hotel, he’d called Maggie, who wanted to know whether he was going alone, how would he get there and, most importantly, how would he get out.

  He didn’t want to lie to her. Was he going alone? No. He’d been unable to talk Carolyn out of going with him so, technically, he could tell Maggie that he wouldn’t be going alone.

  “So, who’s going with you?”

  The only name he could think of on the fly was Antonio Suarez, the Brazilian guide who had served him well during his previous expeditions.

  “That’s good,” she said. “Who else?”

  “His cousins,” he said unconvincingly.

  “His cousins?”

  “He’s got lots of cousins. He’s got a guide service, you know. Takes foreigners on fishing trips. And you know he’s reliable.”

  “How will you keep in touch with me? How will I know you’re okay?”

  “I’ll try to find a sat phone. I’ll call you whenever I can. There’s a town not far from where I’m going called, let me think, Jagacanaga, Jagarena, something like that. Cody showed me his maps and satellite photos. You can look it up. They have an airport.”

  The conversation continued for several minutes, with Maggie putting him on the spot, forcing him to respond with facts to questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. So he responded with intentions, though he presented them as if they were facts.

  “Here’s the thing,” he said, on the verge of exasperation, “what kind of man, what kind of person would I be if I abandoned someone who needs my help? What would you think of me if I walk away and maybe let a good friend die alone?”

  “You’re going to die with him?”

  “No, no, that’s not what I meant. Dammit. Bad choice of words.”

  “I’m sorry. I know what you meant. I just wish you didn’t have to do this.”

  “So do I. So do I.”

  65

  Maggie’s questions had exposed not only potential problems he needed to plan for, but also solutions. Duncan might have thought about contacting his former guide, Antonio Suarez, on his own, but now he was committed to do it. Although he didn’t have his phone number nor was he certain he was still living in Manaus, he knew someone who did: his lawyer Andre Montes.

  Montes was familiar with Duncan’s connection to Suarez, who had been his guide on both of his Brazilian expeditions in search of Reptilus blaberus.

  “His guide business has been very successful,” Montes told Duncan after expressing surprise that the American was still in the country.

  “A friend needs my help so I’m going to stick around for a while,” Duncan told his lawyer without going into detail.

  Cold-calling was not one of Duncan’s favorite activities, so he dithered for several hours while practicing common Portuguese phrases. He wasn’t certain whether the phone number Montes had given him was a business number or personal. Either way, he wanted to be prepared if a non-English speaker answered.

  “Bom dia, serviço de guia Saucedo,” a somewhat tinny female voice responded on the second ring.

  “Olá,” Duncan said. “Posso falar com Antonio Suarez?”

  The woman asked who was calling. Duncan hesitated. He could hear sounds in the background as if on speaker.

  “Meu nome é Howard Duncan.”

  “Olá, Mr. Howard,” a familiar male voice responded. “How are you? It has been so long.”

  The two talked for several minutes and arranged to meet for lunch at a popular steakhouse. The place was crowded when Duncan arrived. Standing behind a line of diners waiting for tables, he sought a familiar face from a crowd of faces sitting in the large, open dining room. He wondered whether he’d beaten Suarez to the restaurant before seeing a man with a broad smile waving his hand. Duncan’s former guide had put on a few pounds since he’d last seen him. He’d grown a mustache and wore a collared khaki shirt. Duncan’s memory was of a lithe youth who wore T-shirts or went shirtless. But he had no doubt who it was as he approached Suarez’s table, holding out his hand, grinning happily as the diminutive Brazilian hugged his former client.

  “I am so glad to see you, Mr. Howard,” he said as the two took their seats. Emblazoned above his left shirt pocket was a stitched emblem, Suarez Serviço de Guia.

  “I like your shirt,” Duncan said, pointing toward the emblem. “How are things?”

  “Everything is good,” Suarez said. “Thanks to you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, of course. You gave me the money to make my business a success.”

  “I didn’t give it to you. You earned every real. And more.”

  Suarez smiled modestly, as he bowed his head and mouthed a few words when the food was delivered. They had a lot of catching up to do, which they did over picanha with black bea
ns and mashed potatoes, a larger lunch than Duncan was accustomed to but just the right size for Suarez, who devoured every morsel.

  “You look very successful,” Duncan said between bites.

  “I have been blessed,” Suarez said thoughtfully.

  “I remember when you had nothing, well, almost nothing.”

  “Sim, but because of you I was able to buy Javier Costa’s business from his widow, may his soul rest,” he said, crossing himself.”

  “You’ve worked on your English, too. It’s very good.”

  “Yes, I have many Americano customers. They are rich and their money allows me to give work to my brother and many cousins.”

  “So, fishing has been good to you.”

  “Not just fishing,” Suarez said. “Birdwatching.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yes. From all over the world they come to Amazonas and they will pay any price and go anywhere to see a rare bird, more even than fishermen.”

  “Wow.”

  “Oh, sim. I would like you to see my business. If you have time.”

  “I’ve got time but there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

  “I have a car. We can talk on the way.”

  66

  Suarez’s business consisted of a covered dock and corrugated metal building located on the western edge of the city on the Tarumã Açu River, a tributary to the Rio Negro. It was a bustling place with a row of covered docks, their closely spaced metal roofs appearing as one from a distance. The building included a small front office with several desks but was mostly taken up by a workshop and warehouse filled with fishing equipment, kayaks, outboard motors and other gear. The office was pristine, with posters from the tourism agency adorning the walls, as well as large, colorful maps. Several boats, the largest a Bertram 31, were tied up at the dock.

  Following the tour, during which Duncan was introduced to Suarez’s brother and several cousins, all of whom wore identical khaki shirts, the two retired to a deck with a view of the river. Sitting under a large canopy in cushioned deck chairs separated by a rickety aluminum table, the two made small talk about the business before finally taking up the subject they’d discussed on the drive from the restaurant. Suarez asked one of the women in the office to bring him a map of the Tapajós River Basin, which he unfolded on the table. Although the labels were in Portuguese, Duncan quickly located Jacareacanga.