by Darren Hale
4
Sunday 10th September:
The engines growled into life. They bellowed from deep within the bowels of the Amazon Queen, like a bear waking from its long hibernation, as the boat shuddered and pulled ever-so-slowly away from the dock.
Torn from her sleep, Catherine had decided to watch the dawn from the breezy comfort of the observation deck. The benches glistened moistly from the morning’s fall of rain, water droplets sparkling like gemstones beneath a salmon-smeared sky; macaws streaking in harlequin splendour overhead, paying their tribute to the morning; while the chimneystacks of old Manaus spewed palls of dirty black smoke into the air like an old bronchitic puffing on his last cigarette.
She wiped one of the benches with the palm of her hand and sat facing the bank, watching as the first tongues of sunlight gilded the horizon; trees smouldering like molten brass next to a river that had turned the colour of blood; the earth haemorrhaging from the wound that was Manaus.
‘Good morning Catherine. I hope I’m not disturbing you.’
The greeting startled her. Eduardo leaned next to the doorway, a slim cigarette jutting from between long fingers. His voice seemed to reverberate inside her skull, throbbing through her temples in remembrance of her night of alcoholic excess.
She managed a thin smile. ‘No, not at all… I was just admiring the dawn.’
‘It is beautiful is it not?’
‘I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a dawn quite like it…’ she admitted.
Eduardo raised the cigarette to his lips and lit it with a delicate-looking lighter.
He inhaled deeply, savouring the pungent Brazilian tobacco before puffing it out in a thick blue cloud.
Catherine coughed. The bitter taint of bile corrupted her palate, threatening to make her sick. He didn’t seem to notice. ‘I must say, I didn’t really expect to see anyone else quite so early,’ she said.
Eduardo took another long drag on his cigarette, then tapped the ash over the rail and into the swirling waters of the river below. ‘Unfortunately, I had some early morning business to take care of.’
‘You mean Martin?’
Eduardo nodded. ‘Would you believe his plane was late arriving? Four o’clock in the morning and I had to go to fetch him.’
‘Somehow, I can’t believe that made him very happy either,’ she said, grimacing as she was forced to inhale another puff of smoke.
‘It is true… His sense of humour was… how you say? Lacking…’ He finished his cigarette, then flicked the butt over the side of the boat. The glowing stub spun end over end, tracing arcs of firefly incandescence before being swallowed from sight. ‘Thank you for your company. Now if you will forgive me, I think it is time for my bed…’
******
Breakfast was late.
Having noted a certain lack of energy coming from the members of the expedition, the chef had wisely delayed the morning’s meal until a more civilised hour.
Catherine made her way to the open-aired galley, following the rich aromas of coffee and toast. Following her morning’s sojourn to the observation deck, she had stopped at her room to freshen up, and by the time she’d arrived, most of the team were already assembled, along with the sumptuous buffet adorning the two tables at the back of the room.
She helped herself to a Danish pastry and a mug of filter coffee, then pulled up a chair to join them. ‘Where’s Simon,’ she enquired, having noted the obvious exception.
Angus, the brash Scotsman from Aberdeen, was sitting hunched forwards in his chair while struggling to light a roll-up behind the shelter of his hand. The broken husks of two previous cigarettes lay on his plate beside him, stubbed out amongst the aftermath of his breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast. ‘It would appear the poor man doesn’t know how to hold his drink. We found him stumbling around the lower deck in the wee hours, making a dreadful racket,’ he explained. ‘Marina here had to give him a hand getting to bed. So, I don’t think we are going to be seeing much of him this morning!’
Oki laughed while almost choking on a mouthful of cereal. ‘Poor girl’s going to be scarred for life.’
Marina scowled at him. ‘Yes – and no thanks to the rest of you… You know, you could have given me a hand…’
Angus looked up, momentarily distracted from the smouldering wreck of a cigarette in his hands. ‘You are kidding, aren’t you?’
‘Anyway… What about you, Catherine?’ Rufus enquired, diverting the conversation away from the impending argument. ‘It looked like you managed to put away a few beers yourself last night.’
‘Not too bad now. I was feeling rather hungover this morning, but it seems to be settling,’ she admitted, without going so far as to reveal that the night’s excesses had fallen somewhat short of the parties she’d attended as a medical student.
‘And what about this new guy? Does anyone know if he turned up last night?’ Angus had finally succeeded in lighting his roll-up and was now puffing on it forcibly in an attempt to keep it alight.
Catherine nodded. ‘Apparently so… I met Eduardo on deck a few hours ago. I think he’d just returned from collecting him.’
‘So what do we know about him?’ Oki asked.
‘Only that the drug company he works for is paying quite a bit of money to the expedition, in return for taking him with us. Isn’t that right Rufus?’ Angus removed his cigarette in disgust and blew on the end in an attempt to rekindle its feeble glow.
Rufus shrugged nonchalantly.
‘Okay… But you still haven’t told me what he does…’
‘According to the prof, he’s a botanist working for a company called Cenes Pharmaceuticals. Some big-shot development company in the states. They research vaccines and shit like that,’ Rufus explained. He looked into Catherine’s eyes, hoping to find some kind of affirmation there.
She shook her head. ‘Don’t look at me… I’ve never heard of them. But it’s not as if I have to worry about where the drugs come from...’
‘So, what’s that got to do with an archaeological expedition up the Amazon?’ Until now, Juliet had been paying little attention to the conversation.
‘Buggered if I know… I only recently joined this expedition myself, and there are a lot of things the prof hasn’t chosen to share with me.’ Rufus appeared genuinely bemused.
‘You said he’s a botanist?’ Catherine observed. ‘Well, most drugs are derived from plant and animal extracts in one way or another, significant numbers of which lie currently undiscovered in the depths of the Amazon jungle. Perhaps he’s hoping to discover something new.’
‘You are joking – aren’t you?’ Angus had finally given up on his cigarette and had stubbed it out amongst the carnage that littered his plate.
‘Not at all.’
‘So, he’s hoping to find a cure for cancer then?’
‘Or malaria, or who knows what…’ Catherine drained the last of her coffee. ‘You know what… I have to say, I think I now know more about what he’s doing here, than I do about anything else relating to this expedition. I don’t suppose anyone would like to tell me a bit more about where we’re going?’
Rufus frowned. ‘Simon hasn’t told you?’
‘Hasn’t told any of us!’ said Angus gruffly.
There were nods of agreement from around the table.
Catherine shook her head. ‘He made out like it was some kind of big secret. He told me we’d be stopping at Iquitos to re-supply, but that was about it.’
‘Good old Simon… He does tend to favour the melodramatic doesn’t he.’ Rufus seemed to consider his words before continuing. ‘I guess it can’t hurt to tell you now… First stop is Iquitos, where we’ll take on a few extra supplies before travelling north, up the Napo River, and onto the Tamboryacu, one of its tributaries. It’s then about a half day’s canoe trip to our base camp.’
Catherine looked a little nervous. She’d studied the maps. ‘North from Iquitos on the Napo River… Isn’t that going to take us into Colombia?�
�
‘No, we’ll still be about a hundred miles from the border,’ said Rufus reassuringly.
Oki whistled. ‘So we’ll be okay, as long as the Colombians are using the same maps… Now I can see why Simon didn’t want to tell us earlier.’
‘There won’t be any trouble,’ Rufus assured him. ‘Prof’ Ellis has been out there a month already. It’s so far from civilisation, he’s not seen a soul outside of the expedition.’
‘That’s encouraging… And just how far from civilisation are we going to be exactly?’ Angus asked.
Rufus looked a little uncomfortable. ‘We’ll be about a hundred and fifty miles from Iquitos.’
Angus grimaced. ‘But there are closer towns… aren’t there?’
‘A couple of small Indian towns…’ said Rufus sheepishly. ‘And the boat will be around every couple of weeks to drop off supplies.’
‘Jesus – this just keeps getting better and better. Well, I hope for our sakes that the natives are friendly!’
‘I guess that means no TV…’ said Oki unhelpfully.
******
The Amazon Queen had continued to make good progress throughout the day, and pristine jungle had long since replaced the scarred banks of Manaus; the thin black waters of the Rio Negro yielding to the turbid café-au-lait torrents of the Rio Solimoes, hemmed with mantles of vibrant grasses and dotted with the corpses of trees; an army of spectral warriors floundering in the mud.
They travelled all day. And only when the sun had begun to fail in the sky, did they stop for the night, having moored a discrete distance from the bank.
With the darkness encroaching, a searchlight flickered from the deck, probing the fringes of the jungle with its luminescent dexterity. Catherine reached for a can of mosquito repellent, planning to do battle with the swarms of flies that spiralled like motes of dust within its beam or cast themselves at its source with kamikaze abandon.
‘I wouldn’t waste that if I were you.’ A voice rolled out of the gloom, rumbling like a waterfall over loose shingles. The tone was overbearingly self-confident and distinctly American.
‘I beg your pardon.’
The stranger pointed to the canister in her hand. ‘The bug-spray. You’d be better off saving it, until you really need it.’
Catherine swatted at the flies circling her head. ‘I thought I did need it. If you hadn’t noticed, I am somewhat in danger of being eaten alive here.’
‘Nonsense – they’re harmless. The water here’s too acidic for mosquito larvae. But once we get where we’re going… Well… that’s likely to be a different matter.’
‘And what do you know about where we’re going?’
‘Not much really... Just that I’m not so sure Mother Nature will be quite so tolerant of our presence as we travel deeper into the jungle – where I’m sure she will have lots of nasty surprises waiting for us.’
‘You seem almost excited by the prospect.’
‘Of pitting myself against Mother Nature… Not really. Let’s just say I have a healthy respect for just how vicious she can be. Just think… You’ve been sat up here on the observation deck for most of the afternoon – but what have you seen? Maybe an egret or two… A kingfisher… And some howler monkeys hiding in the trees? Under the circumstances, you might find it hard to believe that the Amazon is home to one fifth of the species of wildlife in the entire world, and that many of them are predators.’
The ship’s searchlight flickered along the bank, reflecting off tiny orange orbs that seemed to float amongst the reeds. He pointed towards them. ‘Look there! Each tiny light is the eye of a caiman lying in wait. They might not have the same reputation as an alligator, but you still wouldn’t want to get in a tangle with one. You see, here in this boat, it’s easy for us to believe that we’re the masters. Nevertheless, you’d better believe that when we are out there, Mother Nature’s the one in charge.’
Tall cumulus clouds swelled like mushrooms on the horizon; purple and black masses that rolled across the sky like a giant bruise. Lightning flared, as if on cue, filling the clouds with an eerie glow that cast vitriol upon the earth. For a fraction of a second, the stranger stood silhouetted against a nimbus of electric blue. His age was difficult to determine, but judging from his demeanour, Catherine figured him to be somewhere in his late thirties or early forties. His features were rugged and worn, and the hard edges of his face were concealed behind a beard the colour of autumn leaves.
‘I take it you must be the mysterious Dr Martin Bennett?’ she said.
His lips curled back in a grin; little more than a tight-lipped baring of teeth. ‘That I am… though you appear to have me at something of a disadvantage – you are?’
‘Dr Catherine Mills,’ she said, extending a hand apologetically. Whether deliberate or not, the gesture appeared to go unnoticed and she quickly withdrew it once more.
‘I’m impressed. I must say, I expected the female archaeologists on this expedition to be – shall we say… more robust…’
‘I take it that’s meant to be a compliment.’
‘If you like.’
‘Well I’m sorry to have to disappoint you, but I’m not one of the archaeologists. I am in fact the expedition medic.’
‘Then, for both our sakes, I hope you know more about the dangers we’re facing than you appear to…’
5
Thursday 14th September:
The police chief leafed through the passports page by page, scrutinising them in as much detail as he had each and every line of the Amazon Queen’s manifest. A thick cigar smouldered slowly in his left hand, filling the room with pungent clouds of smoke and covering the battered wooden table in snowflake showers of ash.
He took a long drag on his cigar and then exhaled slowly. ‘How long have you been illegally in my country?’
‘We are not illegally in your country,’ Simon replied. ‘We were advised to get our entry stamps here in Iquitos.’
The police chief fixed him with a smouldering gaze. ‘I asked how long?’
Eduardo interjected. ‘We have been in Peru for just two days. If you look in our passports, you will see Brazilian exit stamps from Tabatinga dated two days ago.’
The police chief balanced his cigar between his teeth and continued to slowly flick his way through the passports until he found the exit stamps. He nodded. ‘And where exactly are you planning on staying whilst in Peru?’
‘We have a camp along the Napo River,’ said Simon evasively.
The police chief returned the passports to the table in front of him, then started leafing his way through the neatly typed pages of the ship’s inventory. ‘And what is all this?’
‘Excavation and medical supplies mostly.’ Simon was beginning to feel uncomfortable. The room was hot and airless – heavy with the lingering odour of stale sweat and tobacco. It was barely large enough for the single wooden table and its complement of chairs, let alone the three of them. The walls were a pale yellow, having been tarnished with smudges of nicotine, and the paint had in many places peeled like scabrous skin, revealing the scarred and pitted plaster beneath.
The police chief scanned his way down the list. ‘You have rather a lot of medical supplies, don’t you?’
‘We are going to be there for a while.’
‘Indeed.’ The police chief placed the palms of both hands face down on the table and glared at him, his eyes cold and grey like chips of flint. ‘Mr Walthers – I take it you’re aware there are terrorists operating along the Napo River, and that these supplies of yours would come in very handy for them – don’t you think!’
Simon jabbed his index finger forcibly at a letter beneath the manifest. ‘Look, I don’t know what you think you’re getting at, but if you’d be kind enough to take a look at this, you’ll find letters from the Ministry of Culture, giving us permission to take this expedition up the Napo River. As you can see, we have valid working visas for six months, and were advised to collect our entry stamps here in Iquit
os!’
‘Very well…’ The police chief slapped his hand down on the small bell on his desk, summoning his aide from the adjoining room. The two spoke for a few minutes in hushed voices. ‘I am going to grant you your entry stamps – once I’ve satisfied myself with a routine customs inspection.’ He smiled humourlessly. ‘And there will also be the small matter of two hundred US dollars to cover administrative expenses – do you agree.’
Simon nodded, swallowing the bile that was rising in his throat.
‘Excellent! Then we will get started immediately.’
6
Thursday 14th September:
‘I don’t fucking believe it! This place is even more of a shit-hole than Manaus!’ Angus fumed, strutting up and down the deck in frustration, a cocktail stick protruding limply from the corner of his mouth. His attempts at kicking his smoking habit were not going very smoothly, and a twenty-a-day roll-up smoking habit had transformed into an equally unpleasant cocktail stick chewing habit. It had seemed like a good idea trying to quit whilst in the jungle. Tobacco would, after all, not be easy to come by. Nevertheless, like many of his good ideas, this one was beginning to turn a little sour. ‘I can’t believe Simon wanted us to wait here for him! I thought this was supposed to be a popular tourist destination. So would somebody kindly tell me where the hell are all the girls? And the bars? In fact, what the hell is here?’
Oki had heard the rant before – several times in fact. The only difference was the language, which had become more florid with each telling. ‘You know what mate – I think you need to take up smoking again.’
‘Yeh, why’s that?’