The Jaguar

by A. T. Grant

  Carlos beamed at Dana then turned his attention to Marcus. “I have special permission from the state governor to lead a group into the heart of the reserve. Travel in this part of the biosphere is very difficult and there is no proper accommodation. We will travel by canoe and spend four nights camping.”

  Marcus nodded his approval, relaxed further into his seat and sipped at a glass of water. Cesar took over from his father and talked through a series of images of likely wildlife encounters in a heavily Americanised English voice which seemed too big for his short and slender frame. The meeting was to prove a long one. Eventually, Dana leaned forward to remind the group that their first guests would be arriving shortly. “We could continue the conversation over lunch on the terrace,” she suggested. “Carlos and Cesar, I hope you’ll be able to join us?”

  Father and son again smiled identical broad polished smiles as confirmation and Dana skipped out of the room to make the necessary arrangements. As the door closed behind her, Marcus felt Carlos’ powerful hand grip his forearm. He looked around enquiringly and sank reluctantly back into his seat. Carlos leaned towards him, still gripping his arm tightly. “You know,” he began, “everything is changing in this area. The drug cartels are moving south. You’re probably aware of the violence in parts of this country?”

  Marcus nodded, but in truth had only the vaguest notion.

  “Here is supposed to be different. Here everyone wants to look after the tourists. The drug bosses also want somewhere to launder money, to go on holiday and to show off their wealth. Still, friends in other travel companies have been asked to carry packages or to pay for protection, recently. You must be careful who you work with.”

  In some indiscernible manner Marcus felt he was being threatened. He fought to keep his breathing regular and his voice calm. “Are you saying, Carlos, we should not be doing this tour?”

  “I am saying that the more time tourists spend outside the main holiday region of Cancun and the Riviera Maya the more there may be variables which are difficult to control. I would not encourage your visitors to go anywhere without a guide. They’ll also need to get used to police and military patrols and checkpoints.”

  Marcus was momentarily overwhelmed. He stared at his fingers as they drummed soundlessly on the table. “Perhaps,” he suggested, uncertainly, “we should continue this conversation after the first tour?”

  “Perhaps,” Carlos repeated, sinking into silence for several seconds. “Cesar will be your guide,” he rallied. “You can ask him anything about our business and about the region. Here is my card, with my personal cell-phone number. Contact me if ever you have a question Cesar cannot answer.”

  “Thank you, Carlos.” Marcus offered his hand then swung around to shake Cesar’s also. “Shall we go and look for Dana?”

  Lunch on the terrace sounded idyllic, but proved to be blisteringly hot despite the shade and cool marble. Carlos and Cesar sank jovially enough into their beers, whilst Dana fanned at her neck with a brochure. Marcus wasn’t hungry, so picked randomly at a salad. He and Dana stole occasional glances, as both could tell the other was uneasy. With their clients now imminent, there was little opportunity for further discussion.

  “No need for me to meet our guests yet,” confirmed Dana. “Your new young lady, Laura, can help to settled them in. We’ll liaise with her sometime this evening, depending upon how she’s coping. I’ve got an appointment now, but if you ring my office around five, we’ll arrange where to meet. Until then I suggest you make the most of the facilities.”

  As neither Carlos nor Cesar showed any inclination to move, Dana and Marcus made their excuses and wandered back up the few stone steps to Reception. They parted silently, with the merest nod and wave. Marcus went for a swim then sat by the beachside pool, listlessly watching the aqua-aerobics that had taken his place. Several times he decided to call Steven, but each time, as he rehearsed his words, they sounded either neurotic or just plain silly. These perspectives were reinforced by the tranquil, family-friendly scene around him. Eventually he decided he would speak with Cesar, to see if he could elaborate on his father’s concerns. Then he would know what to do.

  Chapter Six

  In transit

  Laura stood in the middle of the Departure floor at Bristol Airport, reflecting on possibly the most stressful eight days of her life. She had already waited there for forty-five minutes, feeling superfluous and increasingly self-conscious, as nobody had yet responded to the Tailwind Adventure sign that she held. Was she actually employed? She had signed and returned a contract earlier in the week, but there had been no personal contact with anyone from the company. By contrast, everyone else in her life had descended all at once. Her father felt the need to drive up from Taunton to express his displeasure at his daughter’s decision to abandon a promising career. His concern had turned to near apoplexy when he learned Laura had accepted the position on a trial basis. Less stereotypically, Simon had become awkward when the reality of Laura’s imminent departure sunk in. Fielding his increasingly panicked questions had been difficult, as she couldn’t help but feel guilty. Laura was well aware that she had neither consulted him as a friend about her decision, nor considered the impact of her leaving the agency so suddenly upon his own role. The agency response had been predictable - she would lose her final month’s salary due to lack of notice and could no longer rely on a strong reference. Only Katie and George had been supportive, but still their determination to invite everyone they had ever known to a farewell party at the apartment made it even harder for Laura to pack, or to draw breath before her departure. At least, she reflected, with these two there had been a degree of serendipity. George could now move temporarily into Laura’s room. She smiled to herself as she recalled them cuddling and waving by the front door earlier that morning, as an airport taxi had swept her away.

  “Hello.”

  A woman was talking to Laura. Automatically Laura’s smile grew wider and, moments later, she was positively beaming with relief as she realised she actually had a role to fulfil.

  “Welcome to your holiday,” she gushed at Phoebe, dropping her sign to reveal the clipboard behind it. Laura stared quizzically at her list of names, having noticed Phoebe’s son, Adam, standing beside her.

  “Oh, we’re not going... Laura,” Phoebe paused to read the name badge on Laura’s blue cotton jacket. “It’s my partner, David.” She looked around her then threw a knowing smile in the direction of Adam. “I think he must have gone to the toilet.”

  “David Seymour?”

  “That’s him. He hasn’t done anything like this since he was a young man. He may need a degree of encouragement,” Phoebe concluded.

  “That’s what I’m here for,” Laura replied as breezily as possible, realising the tone of the conversation suggested they were talking about a child. She noticed a young couple striding purposefully towards her and, glad of the distraction, hailed a greeting.

  It took David a few minutes to relocate Phoebe and Adam, as they were now part of a tight huddle standing around a young and pretty travel representative. A few moments in a bookshop had helped to settle his stomach and he was now almost happy, having located a guide to the Yucatan region of Mexico, which combined a Spanish phrase book.

  “Hola.”

  Everyone looked around as David squeezed into the group, his indeterminate form framed on either side by two youthful couples exhibiting expensive and sporty-looking outdoor gear.

  “Hola, David, nice to meet you and good to hear you’re getting into the spirit of things,” responded Laura, as casually as she could muster, sensing that Phoebe was trying hard not to look embarrassed.

  Phoebe was fighting off the realisation that she may have made a dreadful mistake. She decided to say her farewells and ferry Adam to her mother’s as soon as possible. It was, after all, not just David who was going away. She had, at great expens
e, arranged a week at a health spa with two girlfriends and was determined to make the most of the opportunity. It was therefore something of a surprise, a few minutes later, to find she was standing in the middle of the car park in a flood of tears. Why had she needed to get away from David to cry for her dead father? Her son understood, though neither she nor Adam spoke. They stood hugging and sobbing for some time before either regained the capacity to move on.

  David followed Laura and the other clients about the airport and onto the plane, as if in a dream. He almost jumped out of his seat in consternation as it finally took off. By mid-flight he was spurred on by a rising sense of panic to seek Laura out again. Soon he recognised her dark bob from behind and, fortuitously, the seat next to her was unoccupied. Laura was genuinely glad to see him, as she too had been feeling isolated and overwhelmed within the cramped confines of the Airbus. As David sat down she thought how incongruous this rather tubby middle-aged man looked in a grey marl tracksuit. Her proximity instantly calmed David’s nerves and a whole series of practical questions flooded back to him. He retrieved Laura’s briefcase for her from an overhead locker and soon both were poring over the itinerary, Laura trying hard not to reveal that she knew little more of what was to come than David. The Kalumal Beach Hotel, where their shared adventure would begin, looked vast in photographs and prompted very different responses. Laura looked forward to fine food and pampering, whilst David baulked at the thought of displaying his inadequate physique beside the pool. Fortunately, he reflected, it would only be a day before they would move on to more intimate surroundings.

  Laura quickly discerned that David was most anxious about the level of physical challenge. She reassured him that a more mixed family group than the couples he had already met would be flying in on a separate flight from Manchester. Then she decided to pursue some personal information, gleaned from a snatched airport conversation with Phoebe.

  “Your girlfriend told me that we may have a mutual acquaintance?”

  David instantly recognised the observation as one related to mysterious cats and unexpected requests to take telephone calls. Why did others seem to know more about his life than he did? He forced himself back into his seat, hoping Laura would not catch his moment of panic. The unfortunate consequence of this sudden change of position was that his legs pressed further into the magazine pouch in front of him, dislodging the open bottle of water that Laura had stashed there. Laura felt the cold, damp stream soaking through her tights and filling up her right shoe. David sprang forward again, managing to spray more water onto Laura’s lap and her folder, as he fumbled to right the bottle.

  “I’m terribly sorry!”

  “Don’t worry, it’s only water. I shouldn’t have left it there in the first place. I’d better go and dry off.”

  David struggled from his seat into the aisle, smiling a wan smile at Laura as she squeezed past him and calmly handed him the folder. He stood dabbing various damp documents with a handkerchief as she headed slowly for the front of the plane, with a slight apparent limp.

  Ten minutes later Laura returned feeling considerably drier. She sat in the seat David had occupied, her own remaining damp. He had disappeared, but after a short while a stewardess leaned forward to hand over a bone-dry, if slightly crumpled folder, an extra blanket and a glass of Champagne. Laura giggled, but gladly accepted David’s little gesture. Awkward, but well meaning, she concluded.

  To a person predisposed to anxiety, there is little as relaxing as a genuine worry of only mild proportion. Back in his own seat, David drew his belt across his ample stomach in compliance with the Captain’s request. He waited for the predicted turbulence, which duly shook the airplane a few moments later. Satisfied there was nothing in the intensity of the shaking to cause concern, he drifted towards sleep. The overdeveloped part of his brain alert to the dangerous and the unusual was just sufficiently occupied to crowd out the thing he was desperate not to think about.

  An indeterminate amount of time later, a sudden bounce shifted David back towards consciousness. He struggled to a more upright position, aware that his head was resting upon someone else’s shoulder.

  “Hello.” The person was speaking to him.

  “Hello,” David mumbled.

  “My name is Ethan. I’m part of the Tailwind group. We didn’t have time to talk at the airport. Felicity - she’s my sister - wanted to watch a movie. I thought I’d be sociable and you were the only one with an empty aisle seat.”

  David coughed in response to the aridity in his throat. “Pleased to meet you, Ethan,” he rasped.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been studying your guidebook. I don’t really know much about Mexico.”

  “Me neither, I’m afraid.”

  “It’s larger than I thought. The Yucatan Peninsula’s a couple of thousand miles from the US border. Flick and I - that’s my sister - are from Hampshire. I thought that was big enough.”

  “Where we’re going is mainly jungle,” David added. “I’ve been trying not to think about that.”

  “Flick’s nervous about the same thing. She doesn’t like the idea of biting insects. The area was in the news a while back, too: lots of New Age types standing around an old stone pyramid, waiting for the apocalypse, as I recall.”

  “Any excuse for a party and a tan, I suppose,” David chuckled.

  “Yes, but some say one version of the world ended then and another is yet to begin - all about cycles of life, apparently. Someone in my local, who knows about such things, said we’re in a state of flux right now; that just about anything could happen until a new path gets set. He sounded quite convincing after a couple of beers,” Ethan noted.

  “That would explain why my life is so weird,” David observed, ruefully.

  Purposefully ignoring a surge of introspection, David turned to take a closer look at Ethan. He was probably in his late twenties, of medium build, and beneath a colourful shirt and burgundy shorts his legs were toned and hairy. He had short, slightly wavy straw coloured hair, blue-green eyes and thin lips which were quick to broaden into a slightly self-satisfied grin. David thought he could discern a slight foreign drawl to his otherwise southern English accent.

  “Would you like a drink?” Ethan enquired. He waylaid a passing stewardess and each opted for a gin and tonic.

  “It’s good to chat with someone else,” he continued. “Felicity’s just split up with her boyfriend and that’s all she can talk about. That’s why we’re here, really. I’m between jobs, so was looking to make the most of my free-time, anyway. I’m a solicitor and one of my clients recommended Tailwind. Then I looked at their website and saw this little jaunt.”

  “Do you two travel together often?”

  “We’ve never really done it before, not since we were kids. I divorced a year ago and haven’t bothered with a girlfriend since. Flick seemed the obvious person to ask along. At this time of year most of my friends are too busy to do anything, anyway, or they’re waiting for those Christmas credit card bills to arrive.”

  “Do you know,” mused David, “I still haven’t a clue what this trip costs. My girlfriend booked it for me and for some reason we never got around to talking money.”

  “That’s some girlfriend - but why isn’t she here?”

  David stared blankly at the small TV in front of him. None of the on-screen options could help him answer that question.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get personal.” Ethan tried to outwait any embarrassment by drawing a particularly long sip from his glass.

  “Don’t worry; it’s just that a lot of things are going on in my life at the moment. I haven’t had time to think through any of them. If you don’t mind me saying, it sounds like you’re in a similar situation. Actually, I think that’s why Phoebe - my girlfriend - organised the trip for me. She knew I needed time out. I think she does too. Her father died
suddenly this autumn. He was a really nice bloke.” David paused again and stared out at a bank of towering cloud some distance from the plane. “Hopefully, getting me out of the way will give her time to grieve.”

  Ethan took a closer look at David. “You come across as a very honest bloke,” he observed.

  “Thanks - if it’s true I’m not sure it’s done me any good. I upset quite a few people. In any event, another thing that’s dawning on me is that I’ve probably not been very honest with myself.”

  “Is anybody?” enquired Ethan. “We all rationalise our actions to protect our egos. I didn’t have a good word to say about my wife when we split up, but my life was all about me, my mates and my career. She did well to stick by me as long as she did - we were married nearly seven years.”

  “Any kids?”

  “No, thank goodness. That was never part of my plan, although I suppose that shows a lack of maturity. I’m still not sure, but maybe it was the issue of children that finally made Silla, my Ex, walk out.”

  The cabin radio crackled into life. The co-pilot announced they would shortly begin their descent into Cancun. “You may have heard about the unusually cold weather affecting much of North and Central America over the last few days. The good news is that this now seems to have passed and the long-range forecast is for bright and sunny conditions.”

  There was a ripple of applause, followed by an outbreak of sudden fidgeting and the adjustment of seats.

  “You know,” confessed Ethan, “I’ve really enjoyed our little conversation. It’s reassuring to get to know someone so early on.”

  “Funny, isn’t it, how much easier it is to talk about your life when you’ve left your troubles behind. It’s the opposite of what you said before. Perhaps, on holiday, our egos are pampered anyway, so there’s no need to hide behind rationalisations.” David paused to check whether he could see anything bar cloud beyond the scratches in the perspex window. He couldn’t. “I would imagine,” he observed, “that this is going to be a journey in more than just the literal sense. Exciting, isn’t it?”