Beyond the Veil

Four

FourDecember 18th 2012, Lima

The following morning, Claire felt better. Grudgingly, she admitted Owen had been right. The coca tea did the trick. She went out onto the veranda and took in the distant shoreline. A faint, pink glow painted the world and warm zephyrs swirled around the hotel, playing with her hair. It was just after five AM, and in an hour she and her team would meet Owen in the lobby.

She sipped her tea, made drinkable by a healthy dose of cream and sugar, and pondered for the hundredth time the chain of events that brought her here. It started with the sighting of an Indian of unknown origin in a remote part of the sss forest. Then soon after, word of a 'Lost Man' followed, which ultimately led to a disastrous first encounter.

But it was Thad who brought the 'Lost Man' to her attention, and it was a friend of a friend of Thad's who recommended an unlikely guide named Owen Macleod, who as it happened, once lived almost in the 'Lost Man's' back yard. It all seemed so pre-ordained, and if she were a religious person, she could almost believe there was a higher power at work here.

She imagined meeting the 'Lost Man'. If his DNA could be linked to African roots, her theory would gain irrefutable proof of the existence of a trans-Atlantic connection, and thus erase years of grief from her peers, who laughed at her. Called her theory, 'Chariots of Fire' garbage. Except, no one had a good explanation for cocaine found in ancient Egypt or the uncanny resemblance the stepped pyramids in Central and South America had with the Ziggurats across the ocean.

The defining test, of course, would be in the DNA, if she could get any. His mitochondrial DNA would go a long way in confirming her belief of early contact with the Egyptian peoples or it could wipe out fifteen years of work and set her career spiraling into a black abyss of community colleges.

Claire tried to shoo away that terrifying notion as Molly burst into a string of four-letter epithets in the room next door. She drew the sash of her terry towel bathrobe around her and stepped off the veranda into her room. The lamp next to her bed that had been on a minute ago was off and the digital display on her alarm clock was gone. Puzzled, she opened her door and gazed down the darkened hall. People milled around outside their doors, talking in hushed tones. Claire slipped out of her room, walked down to Molly's door, and knocked.

Her young redheaded RA answered in her university gray sweats, looking like a feral cat who'd just been stuffed into a box.

“You all right?” Claire said, eyeing the blackened surge protector in Molly's hand.

“No! My fecking laptop just got fried!” She threw her arms up and fired the surge protector at her unmade bed. “We have other lap-tops,” Claire soothed, but as she said it, her stomach flipped. The Sat-Lynk transponder lay on the bed with its screen lifted open. “Tell me that wasn't plugged in?”

Molly shook her head. “No, thank God.” Looking back at her computer, she let out a loud sigh. “I just bought this fecking thing.”

Claire breathed a sigh of relief. They could live without a laptop. A Sat Lynk, they couldn't. “It's okay, we'll get you another one when we get back.”

“You don't understand. It took me all day to transfer all my data onto that. Arghhhh!”

“I'm sorry, Mol, I really am,” Claire said, trying to calm her ex-niece down. As apt and able as Molly was, she had a nasty temper when things went wrong. A shortcoming Claire had been fully aware of when selecting her for the team, as well as the fact she was Noah's niece. But she needed Molly's technical strength, and it didn't hurt that Molly had a keen interest in the sss peoples.

She went to Molly and looked her straight in the eye. “Go take your shower. It's the last good one you get for some time.”

Owen stood in the stairwell of the transport, looking out the windshield at a clear morning without a cloud in the sky. He smiled. Soon, he'd be in his element – out in the forest with no one looking over his shoulder. He tossed the wrapper of his morning candy bar in the trash bag hanging off the dashboard as Manny brought the transport in front of Claire's hotel.

Out in front stood Molly, Thad, and Jorge with their bags. Claire hadn't come down yet. Owen looked at his watch. Probably putting her face on. He hopped out as the other transport pulled up and slipped alongside his vehicle.

“Gidday mates, lady. Sleep well?” Owen said over his shoulder as he checked the web of ropes crisscrossing the supplies on the roof-rack.

“Like a baby,” Molly said with a hint of sarcasm.

Glancing back, Owen saw her grab her duffle bag and head toward the transport. We're in a mood, aren't we? He pulled the slack out of one of the ropes. As he retied it, he said, “Molly, is it?”

“Yes.”

“Best be slathering on sun-block. Sun'll fry ya down here.”

He heard Molly huff as Jorge and Thad strode up beside him. Thad said, “Don't mind her. She's had a bad morning.” He gave the thumbs down and added, “Computer.”

Owen nodded. “Any idea when da boss might show up? Daylight's wasting, an' we gotta long slog ahead of us, yeah.”

Just then, Claire's voice rose up behind them. “Morning.”

Owen turned to see her walking toward him with a full pack slung over her shoulder. The toned and curvy brunette filled out her crisp tan blouse very nicely. As she strode toward him with a leggy gait, she added, “Looks like we have a good day for traveling.”

Owen nodded. “That we do. Nice pair of Zambers.”

“Yeah. They've seen a lot of mileage over the years,” Claire said, admiring her boots.

Owen shrugged and looked down at his. Their once dark brown leather had faded to a milky gray and a couple of the steel eyelets were missing around the laces. “Yeah, mine, too. How ya feeling?”

She flashed him a quick smile. “Good, thank you. We all set?”

“Sweet as,” Owen said, and shot her a devilish smile.

Claire frowned. “You know, that down-under slang is going to get you in trouble if you keep it up.”

“What, me?”

“Yeah, you.” She smiled and headed for the front door of the transport.

Six hours later, the transport descended from a grassy hillside into Tingo Maria. The small colonial village of brick and adobe buildings snuggled into the sprawling hillsides like a kitten into a pile of laundry. Manny brought the bus to a stop at a small, vibrant square dotted with stout palms. After he opened the transport door, the team spilled out into the warm, humid air.

“We'll take morning tea 'fore heading ta our next stop,” Owen said. “If you're hungry, I suggest ya follow me ta that there café down da road, yeah.” He slipped his hat on and started toward a small, crumbling adobe building hemmed in by a low sandstone wall.

As they tramped along the narrow dirt road under the frowning brown hills, Owen pointed out places of interest until he came at last to a small opening in the wall. Turning through it, he shuffled up the path to a crude slate terrace. On it sat four round tables draped with red tablecloths.

They all pulled out chairs and sat as the side door of the café opened. Out of it scurried a tiny brown woman with a wrinkled face. She was dressed in a deep pink pollera skirt embroidered with colorful orange, blue, and green flowers. “Buenas tardes. ¿Les apetece un refresco?” she said, coming to their table with a broad, toothy grin.

“Usted tiene té helado?” Claire replied, as the woman handed her a paper menu.

The woman nodded. “Si.”

“Entonces quiero uno,” Claire said, ordering a tall glass of iced tea. As the woman moved on, Claire leaned toward Owen and quietly said, “Any recommendations?”

“That depends on how adventurous ya are,” Owen said, eyeing her sidelong. “If I were ya, I'd stick with da Tacu Tacu or da Pollo a la Brasa 'til you get your legs under ya.”

Claire shot him an exasperated look and gazed down the menu. “Right. I think I'll try this.”

“Papa Rellena,” Owen said, and felt a smile come to his face.

“What's in it?” Molly said.

Manny spoke up. “Potato and meat cooked in herbs. Local dish, everyone eats it. It is good.”

“What kind of meat?” Molly said.

Jorge shrugged. “Could be beef or chicken-”

“Or bush meat,” Owen interjected with a playful wink.

Molly's face screwed up into a crooked frown. Owen felt Claire's elbow digging into his ribs. She shook her head as Jorge and Thad broke out laughing.

Thad set his menu down and turned to Owen. “So, how long have you been doing this?”

“Guiding?” Owen said, as the little dark woman moved up beside him. He looked up at her. A tall mug of beer was definitely in order. To her, he said, “Sólo una cerveza.” After the woman left, he leaned back in his chair. “Don't know, twenty years maybe. Anyway, I like it. Ya always know where ya stand out here.”

“What's that mean?” Molly said.

He turned an eye toward the RA. “Means, somewhere near da bottom rung.” Smiles broke out on Manny and Jorge's faces.

Claire sipped her drink, and said, “You have a way of putting things, Mr. Macleod.”

“C'mon now,” Owen said, shooting her a hurt look. “No need ta be formal. It's Owen.” He stretched his legs out in front of him and pushed his hat off his brow. “Anyway, just trying ta keep things real. That forest out yonder is unforgiving an' ya better respect it 'cause it sure won't respect ya. That's what my Pop used ta say, yeah.”

“So where's our next stop?” Molly said.

“Tarapoto,” Manny said.

“We'll spend the night there before picking up our water transportation in Yurimagus,” Owen added. “From there it's three days down da river ta Iquitos an' another three ta Santo Antonio do Içá. Hope ya brought plenty of reading material an' bug juice. Skeeters on da river don't take prisoners.” He eyed Molly who sported a pair of capris. “Might wanna think twice 'bout wearing them on da water.”

“Eight days,” Molly said. “How far away is this Santo Antonio do Içá?”

“Once we are on the river, it is about 1,500 kilometers,” Manny said, “providing we do not have any detours.”

Claire frowned. “Detours?”

Owen glanced at Manny. Not a good time for bringing that up, mate. Turning to Claire, he shrugged and said, “Sometimes da river level drops an' we have ta take alternate routes. No big deal. We'll get there in plenty of time.” That is, as long as da FARC stays off da river.