Amazonia (Page 23)

Nathan took a fast step in the man’s direction, one hand balled into a fist. “Don’t say it!” he spat out. “Don’t say you were a friend of my father! I came to you, begged you to continue the search after the government stopped. And you refused. I read the memo you dispatched from Brasilia back to the States: ‘I see no further benefit in extending Tellux’s financial resources in a futile search for Dr. Carl Rand. Our monies are better spent in new endeavors.’ Do you remember those words, words that damned my father! If you had pressed the corporate office—”

“The result would’ve been the same,” Zane said between clenched teeth. “You were always so naive. The decision was made long before I gave my report.”

“Bullshit,” Nathan said.

“Tellux was hit by over three hundred separate lawsuits after the expedition’s disappearance. From families, from underwriters, from insurance companies, from the Brazilian government, from the NSF. Tellux was under assault from all sides. It was one of the reasons we had to merge Eco-tek’s assets. It helped insulate us from other rapacious pharmaceutical companies. They were circling like sharks around our financially bleeding carcass. We could not continue funding a search that seemed hopeless. We had a bigger fight on our hands.”

Nathan continued to glower.

“The decision had already been made.”

“You’ll excuse me if I don’t shed tears for Tellux.”

“If we had lost our battle, thousands of families would have lost their jobs. Hard decisions had to be made, and I won’t apologize for them.”

Nate and Zane continued to stare each other down.

Professor Kouwe attempted to mediate. “For now, let the past lie in the past. If we’re to succeed here, I suspect we’ll all need to work together. I suggest a truce.”

After a pause, Zane held out a hand.

Nathan glanced to the open palm, then turned away. “Let’s go.”

Zane shook his head and lowered his hand. He met the professor’s eyes. “Thanks for trying.”

Kouwe watched Nate’s departing back. “Give him time. Though he tries to hide it, he’s still in a lot of pain.”

Kelly stared after Nathan. He walked stiffly, shoulders back. She tried to imagine losing her mother, then her father, but it was a loss she could not comprehend. It was a well of pain from which she didn’t know if she could have emerged. Especially alone.

She glanced to her brother, suddenly glad he was here.

A call rang out from far ahead. One of the Rangers. “We’ve reached the river!”

As the team continued along, paralleling the river, Nathan found himself lagging behind the others. To his right, glimpses of the river peeked from the tangle of vegetation that bordered the small brown tributary. They had been following it now for almost four hours. Nathan estimated they had traveled about twelve miles. The going was slow while one of the Rangers, a corporal named Nolan Warczak, a skilled tracker, kept them on the proper trail.

An Indian guide could have moved with more assurance and set a faster pace. But after reaching the tributary, the small Yanomamo tribesman from Wauwai had refused to go any farther. He had pointed to clear footprints in the loam that led deeper into the forest, following the watercourse.

“You go,” he had mumbled in stilted Portuguese. “I stay here with Padre Batista.”

So they had set off, determined to cover as much distance as possible before nightfall. But Corporal Warczak was a cautious tracker, proceeding at a snail’s pace. This left much time for Nathan to review his heated outburst with Richard Zane. It had taken him this long to cool off and consider the man’s words. Maybe he had been narrow-minded and had not considered all the factors involved.

Off to his left, the crackle of dead twigs announced Manny’s approach. He and Tor-tor had kept a bit of distance between themselves and the rest. When the large cat was nearby the Rangers were edgy, fingering their M-16s. The only one of the unit who showed curiosity about the jaguar was Corporal Dennis Jorgensen. He accompanied Manny now, asking questions about the cat.

“So how much does he eat in a day?” The tall corporal took off his slouch hat and swiped the sweat from his brow. He had shockingly white hair and pale blue eyes, clearly of some Nordic descent.

Manny patted the cat. “Somewhere around ten pounds of meat, but he’s been living a pretty sedentary life with me. Out in the wild, you almost have to double that amount.”

“And how are you going to keep feeding him out here?”

Manny nodded to Nathan as he joined him. “He’ll have to hunt. It was the reason I brought him along.”

“And if he fails?”

Manny glanced to the soldiers behind them. “There’s always other sources of meat.”

Jorgensen’s face paled a bit, then realized Manny was joking and nudged him with an elbow. “Very funny.” He fell back to join the others in his unit.

Manny turned his attention to Nate. “So how’re you holding up? I heard about that row with Zane.”

“I’m fine,” he said with a long sigh. Tor-tor nudged his leg with a furry muzzle, and Nate scratched the jaguar behind the ear. “Just feeling damn foolish.”

“Nothing to feel foolish about. I trust that guy about as far as it would take Tor-tor to run his sorry ass down. Which, believe me, wouldn’t be far.” He pointed a hand forward. “Did you see that dandy outfit he’s wearing? Has he ever been in the real jungle?”

Nate smiled, cheered by his friend.

“Now that Dr. Fong. She looks damn fine in her outfit.” Manny glanced to him with one eyebrow raised. “I wouldn’t kick her out of my hammock for eating crackers. And Kelly O’Brien—”

A commotion ahead interrupted Manny. Voices were raised, and the group was stopped, gathered near a bend in the river. Manny and Nate hurried forward.

As Nate stepped into the throng, he found Anna Fong and Professor Kouwe bent near a dugout canoe that had been pulled fully onto the bank and clumsily covered with palm fronds.

“The trail led here,” Kelly said.

Nathan glanced at her. The doctor’s face, covered in a sheen of sweat, was almost aglow. Her hair had been pulled back with a rolled green handkerchief that served as a headband.

Professor Kouwe stood with a palm frond in his hand. “These were torn from a mwapu palm.” He flipped to show the ragged end of the branch. “Not cut, torn.”