Amazonia (10 page)
Second, he heard the whine of the fax machine coming from the study. His new employers were certainly efficient.
"Tshui!" he called out.
He expected no answer, but as was customary among the Shuar tribespeople, one always announced one's presence when entering a dwelling. He noticed the door to the bedroom slightly ajar.
With a smile, he crossed to the study and watched another sheet of paper roll from the machine and fall to the growing stack. The details of the upcoming mission. "Tshui, I have marvelous news."
Louis retrieved the topmost printout from the faxed pile and glanced at it. It was a list of those who would comprise the U.S. search team.
10:45P.M.
UPDATE from Base Station
Alpha
- I. Op. AMAZONIA: Civilian Unit
Members - (1) Kelly
O'Brien, M.D.- MEDEA - (2) Francis
J. O'Brien- Environmental Center,
CIA - (3) Olin
Pasternak- Science and Technology Directorate,
CIA - (4) Richard
Zane, Ph.D.- Tellux Pharmaceutical research
head - (5) Anna
Fong, Ph.D.- Tellux Pharmaceutical
employee
- (1) Kelly
- II. Op. AMAZONIA: Mil. Support: 75th Army
Ranger Unit - CAPTAIN:
Craig Waxman - STAFF SERGEANT:
Alberto Kostos - CORPORALS:
Brian Conger, James DeMartini, Rodney Graves,
Thomas Graves, Dennis Jorgensen, Kenneth Okamoto, Nolan Warczak, Samad
Yamir
- CAPTAIN:
- III. Op. AMAZONIA: Locally
Recruited - (1) Manuel
Azevedo- FUNAI, Brazilian national - (2) Resh
Kouwe, Ph.D.- FUNAI, Indigenous Peoples
Representative - (3) Nathan
Rand, Ph.D.- Ethnobotanist, U.S.
citizen
- (1) Manuel
Louis almost missed the last name on the list. He gripped the faxed printout tighter.
Nathan Rand,
the son of Carl Rand. Of course, it made sense. The boy would not let this team search for his father without accompanying them. He closed his eyes, savoring this boon. It was as if the gods of the dark jungle were aligning in his favor. The revenge he had failed to mete upon the father would fall upon the shoulders of the son. It was almost biblical.
Nathan Rand,
the son of Carl Rand. Of course, it made sense. The boy would not let this team search for his father without accompanying them. He closed his eyes, savoring this boon. It was as if the gods of the dark jungle were aligning in his favor. The revenge he had failed to mete upon the father would fall upon the shoulders of the son. It was almost biblical.
As he stood there, he heard a slight rustle coming from the next room, the master bedroom. He let the paper slip from his fingers back to the pile. He would have time later to review the details and formulate a plan. Right now, he simply wanted to enjoy the serendipity of the moment.
"Tshui!" he called again and crossed to the bedroom door.
He slipped the door open and found the room beyond lit with candles and a single incense burner. His mistress lay naked on the canopy bed. The queen-sized bed was draped in white silk with its mosquito net folded back. The Shuar woman reclined upon pillows atop the ivory sheets. Her deep-bronze skin glowed in the candlelight. Her long black hair was a fan around her, while her eyes were heavy-lidded from both passion and
natem
tea. Two cups lay on the small nightstand, one empty, the other full.
natem
tea. Two cups lay on the small nightstand, one empty, the other full.
As usual, Louis found his breath simply stolen from him at the sight of his love. He had first met the beauty three years ago in Equador. She had been the wife of a Shuar chieftain, until the fool's infidelity had enraged her. She slew him with his own machete. Though such acts--both the infidelity and the murder--were common among the brutal Shuar, Tshui was banished from the tribe, sent naked into the jungle. None, not even the chieftain's kinsmen, would dare touch her. She was well known throughout the region as one of the rare female shamans, a practitioner of
wawek,
malevolent sorcery. Her skill at poisons, tortures, and the lost art of
tsantza,
head-shrinking, was both respected and feared. In fact, the only article of adornment she had worn as she left the village was the shrunken head of her husband, hung on a twined cord and resting between her breasts.
wawek,
malevolent sorcery. Her skill at poisons, tortures, and the lost art of
tsantza,
head-shrinking, was both respected and feared. In fact, the only article of adornment she had worn as she left the village was the shrunken head of her husband, hung on a twined cord and resting between her breasts.
This was how Louis found the woman, a wild, beautiful creature of the jungle. Though he had an estranged wife back in France, Louis had taken the woman as his own. She had not refused, especially when he and his mercenaries slew every man, woman, and child in her village, marking her revenge.
Since that day, the two had been inseparable. Tshui, an accomplished interrogator and wise in the ways of the
jungle, accompanied him on all his missions. She continued to collect trophies from each venture.
jungle, accompanied him on all his missions. She continued to collect trophies from each venture.
Around the room, aligned on shelves on all four walls, were forty-three
tsantza,
each head no more than a wizened apple--the eyes and lips sewn closed, the hair trailing over the shelf edges like Spanish moss on trees. Her skill at shrinking heads was amazing. He had watched the entire process once.
tsantza,
each head no more than a wizened apple--the eyes and lips sewn closed, the hair trailing over the shelf edges like Spanish moss on trees. Her skill at shrinking heads was amazing. He had watched the entire process once.
Once was enough.
With the skill of a surgeon, she would flay the skin in one piece from the skull of her victim, sometimes while he or she was still alive and screaming. She truly was an artist. After boiling the skin, hair and all, and drying it over hot ashes, she used a bone needle and thread to close the mouth and eyes, then filled the inside with hot pebbles and sand. As the leathery skin shrank, she would mold its shape with her fingers. Tshui had an uncanny ability to sculpt the head into an amazing approximation of the victim's original face.
Louis glanced to her latest work of art. It rested on the far bedside table. It was a Bolivian army officer who had been blackmailing a cocaine shipper. From his trimmed mustache to the straight bangs hanging over his forehead, the detail of her work was amazing. The collection was worthy of the finest museum. In fact, the staff of the Hotel Seine thought Louis was a university anthropologist, collecting these specimens for just such a museum. If any thought otherwise, they knew to keep silent.
"Ma cherie,"
he said, finding his breath again. "I have wonderful news."
he said, finding his breath again. "I have wonderful news."
She rolled toward him, reaching in his direction. She made a small sound, encouraging him to join her. Tshui seldom spoke. A word here or there. Otherwise, like some jungle cat, she was all eyes, motions, and soft purrs.
Louis could not resist. He knocked off his hat and slipped from his jacket. In moments, he was as naked as
she. His own body was lean, muscled, and crisscrossed with scars. He swallowed the draught of
natem
laid out for him while Tshui lazily traced one of his scars down his belly to his inner thigh. A shiver trembled up his back.
she. His own body was lean, muscled, and crisscrossed with scars. He swallowed the draught of
natem
laid out for him while Tshui lazily traced one of his scars down his belly to his inner thigh. A shiver trembled up his back.
As the drug swept through him, heightening his senses, he fell upon his woman. She opened to him, and he sank gratefully into her warmth. He kissed her deeply, while she raked his back with sharpened nails.
Soon, colors and lights played across his vision. The room spun slightly from the alkaloids in the tea. For a moment, it seemed the scores of shrunken heads were watching their play, the eyes of the dead upon him as he thrust into the woman. The audience aroused him further. He pinned Tshui under him, his back arching as he drove into her again and again, a scream clenched in his chest.
All around him were faces staring down, watching with blind eyes.
Louis had one final thought before being consumed fully by his passion and the exquisite pain. A final trophy to add to these shelves, a memento from the son of the man who had ruined him:
the head of Nathan Rand.
Actthe head of Nathan Rand.
Two
Under the Canopy
PERIWINKLE
family:
Apocynaceae
Apocynaceae
genus:
Vinca
Vinca
species:
Minor, Major
Minor, Major
common
names:
Periwinkle,
Cezayirmeneksesi, Common Periwinkle, Vincapervinc
names:
Periwinkle,
Cezayirmeneksesi, Common Periwinkle, Vincapervinc
parts used:
Whole Plant
Whole Plant
properties/actions:
Analgesic, Antibacterial, Antimicrobial, Antiinflammatory, Astringent,
Cardiotonic, Carminative, Depurative, Diuretic, Emmenagogue, Febrifuge,
Hemostat, Hypotensive, Lactogogue, Hepatoprotective, Sedative, Sialogogue,
Spasmolytic, Stomachic, Tonic, Vulnerary
Analgesic, Antibacterial, Antimicrobial, Antiinflammatory, Astringent,
Cardiotonic, Carminative, Depurative, Diuretic, Emmenagogue, Febrifuge,
Hemostat, Hypotensive, Lactogogue, Hepatoprotective, Sedative, Sialogogue,
Spasmolytic, Stomachic, Tonic, Vulnerary
Wauwai
AUGUST 7, 8:12 A.M.
EN ROUTE OVER THE AMAZON JUNGLE
Nathan stared out the helicopter's windows. Even through the sound-dampening earphones, the roar of the blades was deafening, isolating each passenger in his own cocoon of noise.
Below, a vast sea of green spread to the horizon in all directions. From this vantage, it was as if the entire world were just forest. The only breaks in the featureless expanse of the continuous canopy were the occasional giant trees, the emergents, that poked their leafy crowns above their brethren, great monsters of the forest that served as nesting sites for harpy eagles and toucans. The only other breaks were the half-hidden dark rivers, snaking lazily through the forest.
Otherwise, the jungle remained supreme, impenetrable, endless.
Nathan leaned his forehead against the glass. Was his father down there somewhere? And if not, were there at least answers?
Deep inside, Nathan felt a seed of anxiety, bitter and sour. Could he handle what he discovered? After four
years of not knowing, Nate had learned one thing. Time did indeed heal all wounds, but it left a nasty, unforgiving scar.
years of not knowing, Nate had learned one thing. Time did indeed heal all wounds, but it left a nasty, unforgiving scar.
After his father's disappearance, Nate had isolated himself from the world, first in the bottom of a bottle of Jack Daniel's, then in the embrace of stronger drugs. Back in the States, his therapists had used phrases such as
abandonment issues, trust conflicts,
and
clinical depression
. But Nate experienced it as a faithlessness in life. With the exception of Manny and Kouwe, he had formed no deep friendships. He had become too hard, too numb, too scarred.
abandonment issues, trust conflicts,
and
clinical depression
. But Nate experienced it as a faithlessness in life. With the exception of Manny and Kouwe, he had formed no deep friendships. He had become too hard, too numb, too scarred.
Only after returning to the jungle had Nate found some semblance of peace. But now this...
Was he ready to reopen those old wounds? To face that pain?
The earphone radio clicked on with a rasp of static, and the pilot's voice cut momentarily through the rotor's roar. "We're twenty klicks from Wauwai. But there's smoke on the horizon."
Nathan peered ahead, yet all he could see was the terrain below and to the side. Wauwai would serve as a secondary field base for the search team, a launching-off point from which to supply and monitor those trekking through the forest. Two hours ago, the three Hueys, along with the sleek black Comanche, had set off from Sao Gabriel, carrying the initial supplies, gear, armament, and personnel. After the expedition proceeded into the jungle later today, the Hueys would serve as a flying supply chain between Wauwai and Sao Gabriel, ferrying additional supplies, men, and fuel. Meanwhile, the Comanche would remain at Wauwai, a black bird reserved in case of an emergency. Its armament and long-range capabilities would help protect the team from the air if necessary.
That had been the plan.
"The smoke appears to be coming from our destination," the pilot continued. "The village is burning."
Nathan pulled away from the window.
Burning?
He glanced around the cabin. In addition to the two O'Briens, he shared the space with Professor Kouwe, Richard Zane, and Anna Fong. The seventh and final passenger was the hard-faced man who had sat across the conference table from Nathan during the debriefing, the one with the ugly scar across his neck. He had been introduced this morning as Olin Pasternak, another CIA agent, one associated with the administration's Science and Technology division. He found the man's ice-blue eyes staring right back at him, his face an unreadable stoic mask.
Burning?
He glanced around the cabin. In addition to the two O'Briens, he shared the space with Professor Kouwe, Richard Zane, and Anna Fong. The seventh and final passenger was the hard-faced man who had sat across the conference table from Nathan during the debriefing, the one with the ugly scar across his neck. He had been introduced this morning as Olin Pasternak, another CIA agent, one associated with the administration's Science and Technology division. He found the man's ice-blue eyes staring right back at him, his face an unreadable stoic mask.
To his side, he watched Frank pull a microphone up to his lips. "Can we still land?"
"I can't be sure from this distance, sir," the pilot answered. "Captain Waxman is proceeding ahead to survey the situation."
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