Beyond the Veil

One

OneAmazonas

December 10th, 2012, Lima, Peru

Owen opened the door to the company apartment and dropped his backpack beside the couch. Exhausted from the trans-Pacific flight, he rubbed his neck and shuffled to the sliding glass door. Pulling back the screen, he let the sound of rush hour traffic six floors below filter into the room. After a minute of looking out over the hazy coastline, he headed to the bathroom and splashed water on his face.

The mirror over the vanity reflected eyes in need of sleep. But it'd have to wait until he checked email: that, and removing his large banana spider from the shower's soap shelf. The furry critter had escaped his terrarium again and taken up residence there. He snatched the arachnid between finger and thumb, sending its long legs into a wriggling frenzy.

“Calm down, Shelob,” He muttered. “We'll have ya home 'fore ya know it,” He walked to the kitchen and popped him back into his glass home.

“Now, hopefully,” he said to Shelob, “Robbie left me some coca tea.” He felt around cans of vegetables and boxes of dry goods until he found a canister. Shaking it next to his ear, he smiled as the spider pawed the pane of its terrarium. “Good boy, Rob,” he said, and set a kettle of water on to boil. Fifteen minutes later, he sat on the deck overlooking the street below sipping tea with the laptop open on his lap.

Booting it up, he saw a dozen emails. Clicking the one named, Claire El-Badawy Itinerary, he scrolled down the page.

As he read the flight information, the memory of his conversation with the cultural anthropologist popped into his head. He smiled, thinking of the tall, silky brunette with flashing blue eyes. She had a killer smile and a pair of legs that wouldn't quit. His body stirred as the memory of her flashed before him. But, what really grabbed him was her sharp, challenging and feisty mind. He liked intelligence in a woman.

A taxi below blew its horn, and the memory ran away. Cracking his knuckles, he pulled a candy bar out of his shirt pocket and peeled the wrapper back. As he bit into it, he opened a file he'd downloaded a while back. The screen page opened to a photo of a stepped pyramid. “That's one wild theory, Luv,” he muttered, tilting his head. He stretched and scrolled down the page to her picture. “You sure are one put-together package, I'll give ya that. Just keep ya pretty little nose outta my business and we'll get along just fine.”

December 10th, 2012, San Francisco, California

Hot showers always refocused Claire when bad s**t happened. She turned the hot water up another notch and gritted her teeth. Since her fiancé, Jason, decided his career was more important than hers three weeks ago she had been trying to forget him. But it wasn't easy. She scrubbed her hair as his ultimatum played over in her head. Of all the times to draw the line in the sand, he had to pick twenty days before the Project started. She felt her throat tighten. Screw it! CBS and New York can have him. I need to call Thad.

She stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and marched into the closet. In the corner, sat a new tan duffle bag. Next to it, stood her Zamber boots and a dozen pair of 150 thread ultra-light hiking socks. She eyed them as she pulled a pair of nylons on, wondering if the duffle bag was big enough for all the gear she'd need for the expedition.

Twenty minutes later, she pulled her Volvo out onto the arterial, and after stopping at Double D's to get her regular morning bagel, turned the radio on to listen to the morning news. As she settled in for the hour-long commute, her blackberry buzzed. Setting her breakfast bagel on the passenger seat, she dug into her purse and pulled out her PDA. Thad's number showed on the screen.

Thaddeus Popalothis, or Poppy as he was known on campus, was her research assistant.

“Hey, what's up?” she said.

“You on the 880?”

“Just getting on.”

“Well, you might want to get off at Artesia and hook up with the 680. Tractor-trailer jackknifed at Exit 120. It's a mess.”

“s**t. Okay.” She tapped her finger on the steering wheel as five lanes of traffic began slowing down. “You hear anything more from this guy, Owen?”

“Yeah, he emailed back. We're all set. He'll meet us at the airport,” Thad said. He cleared his throat and his voice dropped down. “There's something else.”

“What?” Claire said, bracing herself. When Thad's voice dropped, trouble lurked.

“Noah's rethinking my going to Brazil with you.”

Claire blinked. What is it with f*****g Noah? He just can't let go of s**t. She collected her nerve, and with a level controlled tone, said, “Don't worry, Poppy. I'll take care of Noah.”

“But he's department chair.”

“Yeah, I know. Don't worry about it, okay?”

A long pause ensued on the other end. Finally, Thad said, “Okay. And if he doesn't change his mind?”

“He'll change it,” Claire said exiting onto the 680. Oh, s**t, a cop. She glanced at the needle touching 80. Wonderful. “Got to go. Bye.”

Claire threw her office door open and set her purse on her credenza. Her desk was in disarray. Files piled up four and five deep. Post-its with phone numbers and to-dos were stuck all over her computer. Beside the screen, stood a framed photo of her parents. Tucked in the corner of it was a small, faded wallet shot of her grandmother. She cleared a stack of mail from her chair, sat, and checked email. As usual, a long list stared back. She triaged a few, shot off some replies, then quickly reviewed her day's schedule while debating if she should phone Noah. No. Better to deal with him face to face. Problem is, I have class in thirty minutes. Tapping her nails on the desk, she heard a knock on her open door.

Looking up, she saw Thad leaning against the frame with his arms folded across his chest. Tall, with jet-black curly hair that framed a Mediterranean olive complexion, Poppy was quite popular with the young ladies on campus.

“Oh, there you are. I need to see Noah, but I have class in–” she looked down at her watch, “–twenty minutes.” She dug the lesson folder out of her bag. “Would you mind filling in for me?”

He stepped up to her desk and took it from her. “Well, I'm not really prepared, but okay.”

“Thanks.”

Thad nodded. Then cleared his throat. “Hey, just so you know, don't go nuts trying to change his mind. I'll be all right. Really. I mean, don't take me wrong, I wanna go–who wouldn't? But I don't want to be shoved down his throat. He can really f**k with me, Claire.”

Claire studied Thad's long, angular face, feeling his guarded concern. She knew he was right. Noah could really do a number on Thad come dissertation time. “Don't worry. I know how to handle Noah.”

The walk from her office in Kroeber Hall to the other end where the Department Chair ran things gave Claire some time to plan how she might twist the silver-haired Scotsman around her finger. She saw Noah no differently than she saw the rest of the men in the department. He was self-centered, arrogant, and stubborn. Unlike the rest of the men in the department, Noah was her ex-husband, and therein lay her advantage or disadvantage. She took a deep breath as she came to his office suite and opened the door.

“Hi, Claire. Can I help you?” the admin assistant said, looking up from her typing.

“Noah busy, Maggie? I need to see him.”

“He's on the phone. Anything I can do for you?”

“Don't think so,” Claire said, eyeing Noah through his open door. “I'll wait.”

“Coffee?”

Claire shook her head.

Maggie got up and joined Claire. “You hear about that horrible accident on 880 this morning?”

“Yeah, tractor trailer and a bus? Oh, he's off,” Claire said. “Sorry, I need to catch him before he skates.”

As Claire stepped into Noah's office, he swiveled around in his chair.

“Well, hullo, Claire,” he said, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up over his forehead. “I wondered how long it'd take before I saw your face in here.”

Claire crossed her arms and eyed him. “What are you doing?”

“Doing?”

“Yes. My project? You're screwing with it. Why?”

Noah leaned forward. “No class today?”

Claire smiled. “Thad's filling in.”

“I see. Well, to answer your question, I'm looking out for the college's interests. Thad's an excellent grad student, but you need someone who knows his way around down there, don't you think?”

“Thad can hold his own,” Claire said.

“I'm sure he can,” Noah replied as he met her challenging gaze with one of his own.

“So, I suppose you have someone in mind?” Claire said.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“And that would be?” Claire said as Noah's gaze slipped over her blouse and down her skirt.

“Name's, Jorge, Micheal's boy.”

“Jorge? Are you kidding me? He knows nothing about my project!”

“He is, however, a native Brazilian who knows how things work down there. Need I remind you, the only reason you got funding for this folly of yours is because I put my ass on the line for it.

“I'm well aware of that,” Claire growled.

“And make sure if you find this lost man, which you have as much chance of doing as finding canopic jars in a stepped pyramid, that you remember you're there to observe only. No contact.”

Claire forced a smile. “Why is it you can't find it in your tiny little pea brain to question why they found cocaine in the Pyramid of Giza?”

“That's all anecdotal, but hey it's your career. If you want to flush it down the toilet, be my guest. Anyway, it seems a moot point. You have your grant.”

“Yes, I do,” Claire replied.

“However,” Noah said, “It's my job to see it doesn't end up in a waste basket.”

Claire leaned forward. “Then leave it alone. Look, we both know what this is all about. You're still trying to control me.”

Noah laughed. “Oh please, what makes you think I'd spend one second of my precious time with screwing you? Believe me, I have better things to do.”

“Right, but you certainly liked screwing me a few years ago, didn't you? Better be careful with Maggie. I've seen how she looks at you. The newest Mrs. Henderson might not like it.”

“What are you talking about?” Noah snapped back. His face reddened as he furrowed his brow.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about.” Claire let him sit with that a moment then went on. “Noah, dear, if there's one thing you're not very good at, it's keeping your pecker in your pants.”

“Are you threatening me?”

Claire almost burst out laughing. “Honey, I don't have to make threats, you self-implode without any help from me.”

Noah studied her with talon-like eyes. “Might I remind you, I'm Department Chair here, so unless you want to be standing in front of glassy eyed freshmen all day for the foreseeable future, mind your manners. By the way, how's Jason these days?”

Claire's eyes widened, and she fought to keep from blowing up. Through tight lips, she hissed, “Jason has taken a job in New York.”

“I heard. Long commute, don't you think?”

“It's what they make planes for,” Claire said, with her best f**k-you grin. “So, back to Thad.”

“Yes, back to Thad,” Noah said averting his gaze out the window. “Smart kid, but I'm not sure he's your best choice. Did you know Jorge speaks several tribal languages? Can Thad say the same?”

Claire considered her ex-husband's loaded question. This was the one area Poppy did not excel in, and to be truthful, it bothered her. But his involvement with her work trumped that deficiency. She said, “He holds his own.”

Noah steepled his fingers. “Really? In what, besides a dalliance in ancient Egyptian, unless you plan on running into some pharaoh?”

“He speaks Quechua, and some Ayaya,” Claire fired back, ignoring Noah's sarcasm.

Noah c****d an eye. “Fluently?”

Claire paused and thought about her answer. She wanted to be careful not to say the wrong thing. Noah grinned, and obviously taking her silence as a 'no', said, “What I thought. Tell me, what is it about this RA you're so hot on bringing with you. Are you f*****g him?”

Claire closed her eyes and balled her fists. “You asshole! Why am I wasting my time here?”

“I don't know, why are you? Unless perhaps, you thought you could manipulate me. You were good at that once, you know. Sit down.”

“f**k you!”

“Sit down!” Noah snapped. He locked his eyes on her like a tomcat sizing up a mouse. Finally, he said, “Let's cut the crap. This is more than just a goddamned grant here. A niece I'm very fond of is involved and I'm going to make damned sure she comes back in one piece.”

He pushed his glasses back down onto his Romanesque nose and looked off through his window. “You need more experience down there.”

“I've run expeditions before.”

“Yes, yes, I know – Togo,” he said, looking back at her. He shook his head. “Look, this isn't some little dirt village on the west coast of Africa. It's the damned sss!”

“I know that,” she spat back.

Noah shook his head. “No, you don't!”

“And you do? I wasn't aware you'd ever been there.”

“A long time ago, yes.”

Claire was taken aback. “You never told me that.”

Noah stared at her, and for a moment she saw a pained expression on his face. “It's hard to talk about.”

Now it was Claire's turn to lean forward. “We were married for five years, and I'm just finding this out now?”

“It was personal and if you'll shut up a minute I'll tell you why.” He paused. “Twenty-five years ago, my brother and I received a NSF grant to research some of the indigenous tribes.”

“Really?” Claire said.

Noah cleared his throat and frowned. “As I was saying, my brother led a small team of men into the forest one morning while I stayed back to mind camp. It was just a short day trip, reconnaissance and collecting data. He was supposed to be back by dinner, but he and his team never returned. A week later, we found him and his boys. They were skewered alive and left on long bamboo poles: a warning to stay out of where they didn't belong. They'd crossed some hidden boundary. We got them down and ran the hell out of there. Am I making myself understood?”

Claire was dumbstruck. She knew Noah had lost a brother, but never knew how. Though she'd asked about it many times, he wouldn't speak of it, nor would his sister. Noah went on, “You have no idea what you're going into Claire and I've tried to keep my mitts out of it. But you need someone who knows his s**t down there. And who's this guide, Owen Macleod? I hear he leads tourist treks? Christ, woman!”

“True, but he's spent a good deal of his life right in the backyard of where we're going,” Claire said, still trying to wrap her head around Noah's revelation.

“Yes, I looked into it once I found out. But you need a guide. Living there might have only taken him a few kilometers into the forest. You're going deep into that world. And can I ask you why you're going through Peru to get there?”

You never stop! “Because that's where his company operates out of. And his references are excellent.”

Noah sat with that a moment then said, “Well, I do see your point about his living there being worthy. But a tourist guide? Really?”

“He's multi-lingual and fluent in most of them, not to mention a naturalist with a BA in Forestry and Land Management. He knows the river. He knows the people,” Claire said. She looked at her ex-husband with fresh eyes. “Noah, we'll be okay.”

“Hmmm … And Molly?”

“I'll guard her with my life.”

“See to it and you better bring her back alive.” He took his glasses off and looked at her hard. “I know you don't like me after what happened between us. Few people do now-a-days it seems. Tell you the truth: I don't really care. What I do care about is people getting hurt or worse yet, killed, on my watch – especially family and talented professors.”

Claire looked at him agape and against her will, felt a twinge in her heart for the man. “Thanks,” and added, “And like I said, I'll look out for Molly, don't you worry.”

“You do that. We done?”

Claire got up, fighting the urge to thank the man she had come to despise over the last five years. “I expect so.”