by Bob Nailor
Her face flared crimson when she realized she’d been staring. “From what I hear, Brazilian police aren’t much different from their criminals.”
“That depends on where you go,” Paulo answered. “Edson’s as honest as the day is long. Yet, he knows how to look the other way when he needs to.” He paused. “But there isn’t enough money in the Amazon to buy him.”
Edson picked up on the pair’s conversation and made his way to their table. He traded a handshake, high and hard, with Paulo. They had history.
“Another group of mad scientists?” His eyes twinkled at Ana while he laughed from his belly.
Paulo frowned. “A distinguished mission from the United World Federation, all of whom speak perfect Portuguese, Edson.” The officer turned a profound red.
Ana stuck out her hand. “Ana Carvalho, Lieutenant Edson.” She hoped he wouldn’t notice the slight quiver that was racing through her at his presence.
“Forgive my impertinence, please. It isn’t every trip Paulo brings us serious scientists.”
“I’ve never been called crazy before,” she answered. “Please, sit, now that you’re buying the next round.” She smiled impishly at him. “Right?”
“You’re Italian?” he asked, pulling up a chair. His legs drooped over the plastic chair as if it had been made for children. “Where are you headed?” He smiled. “In my defense, the last group Paulo had here was definitely mad.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Only because of their destination.” He winked.
“I’m Portuguese and Serbian. We’re headed to the geoglyphs and the lost tribe who created them.”
Edson glared at Paulo who drained the bottle of beer, ignoring any possible confrontation with the officer.
“Dr. Ana, if you’ll excuse me, I have to run off to hire the rest of your crew,” Paulo said. “I’ll send the waitress over with another cold one.” He was gone before Edson had a chance to say, “Idiota.”
His glare shifted to Ana. “What do you know about this tribe, Dr. Ana?”
“Just Ana, Edson,” she replied. “We know they are unusual in every way. Taller and whiter than anyone we’ve ever heard of. Incredibly mobile. Skilled hunters, yet they appear to cultivate wheat and corn. They speak a unique language and have somehow remained isolated.” She smiled at the handsome man before her. “At least, that is what the report I read informed me.”
“Have you heard they speak a second language they call ‘the tongue of God?’” he asked, dark and serious. “Have you heard no one who has seen them has lived to return?”
“We face antagonistic tribes everywhere we go,” she said, quick with her answer. “There are well-established protocols for every contingency.” Ana smiled. “How is it that nobody survives, yet you know so much about these unknown natives?” Edson drained his glass and called for more. The Indian girl was busy with Paulo who appeared to have forgotten his mission: hire a crew.
“Since the time of the conquistadors, Ana, things have happened on these banks that defy explanation. Men massacred. Bodies drained of their blood. Veins ripped open as if they were made of tissue paper. I’m responsible for safety on this river and I can’t allow you and your party to move forward with your search.” His eyes switched to a cop’s, hard and inflexible.
Ana produced a folded envelope from her small purse. It bore the logo of the Brazilian Ministry of Indian Affairs. She simply handed it to Edson. Jussara plunked another frosty Antartica® on the table and poured a glass so cold, ice oozed from the mouth of the bottle.
Edson re-folded the letter. “I would say the same to the Minister if he were here. You will be on your own if you choose to ignore my warnings.”
“I appreciate your concern, Edson, but we know what we’re doing.” Ana was more confident than she felt.
A hush passed through the bar which caused them to look up from their conversation. A striking figure entered and headed directly toward their table. Medium height, athletic build, he walked with a male’s grace. His age was difficult to determine. From a distance, Ana would have said mid-twenties but as he approached, his eyes matured more, revealing their truer vintage of early fifties. He was dressed in tropical white, from his shoes to the clerical collar turned up at his throat. A gold crucifix with a single deep blood-red ruby in the center broke the purity of his white linen shirt.
Edson stood to greet the priest with a hug. “Father, please, sit with us,” he said. “Have one cold beer.” He noted the gold crucifix, not the one fashioned of wood the priest normally wore.
“One glass,” the priest said, holding up a single finger to confirm his words. He sat with his eyes fixed on Ana. “I heard we have a visitor. I’m Bora Ianović, the priest here in Boca do Acre.” His Portuguese was perfect but colored with a familiar intonation.
“I’m Ana Carvalho,” she replied and offered her hand. “The United World Foundation sent me to visit some of your people.”
Father Bora’s eyes narrowed slightly and his head cocked to one side. “I may be wrong, but did I hear just the slightest of accent to your Portuguese?” He spoke in his native tongue.
She had already guessed his Slavic heritage from his name. “My full name is Ana Pavlović Carvalho, Father,” she replied in Serbian. “My mother is from Belgrade.”
“As was I, many years ago,” Father Bora said, returning to Portuguese and a smile. “Now…” He spread his arms out. “Now, I’m a citizen of the rain forest.”
“Dr. Ana was just telling me she can handle whatever the forest throws at her,” Edson said.
“Wait just a minute,” Ana replied. “All I said was we have procedures and protocols for dealing with difficult peoples we may encounter.”
Edson poured a glass of beer for the priest. “If you’re speaking about the tribe near the geoglyphs,” Father Bora said. “You will find they are unlike any you’ve known.”
“I hear that everywhere I go, Father,” Ana replied. “As I said earlier, for a lost and hidden tribe, everyone seems to know quite a bit about them.” She looked at Edson. “Especially since nobody has ever survived a meeting with them. So basically, you’ve never had contact.”
“Rumors,” Edson said and stared off into the distance.
“Yes, rumors,” Father Bora echoed. His face turned dark and rigid. He hadn’t touched the alcohol. “I can assure you, Ana, you have never met a tribe like this. A soberba precede a ruína, e altivez do espírito a queda.”
“Pride goes before a fall,” Ana said. “Proverbs 16:18. It was my father’s favorite Bible verse at spanking time.”
Father Bora stood to leave, his beer still untouched. “Then it’s best to remember your father’s teaching, my daughter,” he said and lay his hand on her shoulder. Instantly, her arms erupted in goosebumps. He let go and turned to the officer. “I’ll see you at mass in the morning, Edson?”
Edson smiled feebly. “As always, Father.”
Bora shook Edson’s hand and then Ana’s. “Ah, before I go…” He lifted the crucifix over his head. “If you would be so kind to honor an old man.” Bora held the crucifix and chain in his hand, kissed the red stone of the crucifix, and softly spoke a blessing. “Take this, my daughter. Wear it in good health for protection from all that is evil.” He leaned over and quickly placed it around her neck.
“I couldn’t take this, father,” Ana protested.
Bora smiled at her. “Promise me never to take it off until we meet again…” He let his sentence drift off and his eyes had a distant look.
“It’s beautiful, Father Bora. I really couldn’t—”
He lifted a single finger to shush her and Ana begrudgingly nodded in agreement. “Until we meet again. I promise.” Bora smiled, signed the cross in the air before them, then turned and left.
Edson and Ana were silent after the priest’s departure, the flirtatious mood of the evening spoiled. The full glass of beer reminded them of the priest’s sober warning. Edson headed toward the bar for a fresh bottle. Ana located her guide
. “Paulo, have your Indian friend bring some of that fish this way.”
For the rest of the night, they ate, drank, laughed, and told jungle stories. The three female students pulled her away from the table at midnight. While Dr. Theodouros’ ice-blue eyes had caught her attention, it was Edson’s dark, brooding eyes and hunky physique that captured her soul.
The three women laughed and chattered all the way back to the dock. All the while, Ana could feel Edson’s eyes following her from the doorway of the bar. Her hips swayed wider than usual. She blamed it on the beer.
Chapter Four
THE JOURNEY BEGINS
The sun loomed high above the dense bank of vegetation when Ana finally opened her eyes. Her head pounded and her mouth felt like a box of kitty litter. The students snickered as she struggled to the nearby table. They obviously enjoyed her misery. It was a morning for coffee, not tea.
“Now you know tropical nights, Dr. Ana,” Paulo regaled from the wheel with a laugh.
She grabbed a tiny cup and shuffled back to Paulo. “So, how is your indiazinha?”
“Jussara was smiling when I left,” he said. His leering smile saying even more. “She made cheese bread for our breakfast. I saved one for you.” He passed a basket covered with a towel.
Ana had slept without her mosquito net. Her body felt like an abused pincushion. She absently gazed at the welts. “Dengue or malaria, for sure,” she mumbled between bites of bread and gulps of coffee. The pounding between her temples began to subside. She was beginning to feel social.
“How long until we arrive?” she asked, her mind now fully functioning. The pão de quiejo and cafezinho had given her new life, like Lazarus rising from the dead.
“After the rain,” he replied. The daily downpour was more reliable than a watch.
She glanced around. The three girls were huddled with a native woman, doing something near the back of the boat. From above she heard Wayne yell ‘read them and weep, boys,’ so she knew they were probably playing cards, again. She noticed three men beyond Paulo and they appeared to be fishing off the back of the boat. Ana frowned then realized they were probably part of the new crew. She looked at Paulo whose hand was remarkably steady on the wheel for the quantity of beer he’d guzzled the night before.
“How well do you know Edson?” Ana asked innocently, hoping Paulo would just consider it idle conversation. She closed her eyes and remembered Edson’s features; the strong arms, the muscled chest, the smile, and those dark, brooding eyes.
Paulo smiled at her interest. “We have been friends for many years, Dr. Ana.”
“Is he married?” She picked up her language book and flipped pages aimlessly, head down so Paulo couldn’t see her face.
He chuckled and shook his head. “That tomcat? Every woman wants him but no woman will have him.” Paulo slowly cranked the wheel to ease the boat under some early morning shade. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason,” Ana sputtered. “Just curious.” She could feel her face getting warm.
This time Paulo’s laugh was hearty. “Trust me, Dr. Ana. He had his eyes on you the whole night. He even followed you to the boat to make sure you got home safely.”
“He did?” Ana slammed the book down. “You mean to tell me he stalked me last night?” Her voice louder than before, Ana noticed the three girls looking in her direction.
“Whoa, Dr. Ana. I wouldn’t call it stalking. I’d say it was more concern for your well being.” Paulo smiled. “And if he got brave enough…” He winked. “Maybe lucky?” There was a naughty twinkle in his eye.
Ana again felt her face flush with heat. She grabbed the book once more and settled in, her eyes fixed on the river bank.
“Besides,” Paulo added. “If I were you, I’d be more concerned about the mulher morcego.” He gazed up at the trees. “In the dark of night, by the light of the moon, it’s difficult to truly define their color; perhaps a gray, a dark blue?”
On cue, two huge birds took flight and Paulo made the sign of the cross, his eyes wide in surprise. “They even fly in the daylight,” he whispered.
Ana watched the Hyacinth Macaws glide into the jungle’s denseness. They were gorgeous and the sun glistened off their feathers giving them an eerie appearance. They definitely were not bats, and they weren’t ravenous vampires, either.
The details of the evening were fuzzy, but Edson’s warning sounded loud and clear in her head. She’d read Friar Gaspar de Carvajal’s account of the run-in with the tribe that had come to be known as the Amazons. His details of the sixteenth-century expedition were spectacularly accurate. There was no reason to doubt the story. The tribe knew the jungle better than the Spaniards who relied on weighty armor and crude firearms. The female warriors lived in the shadows where stealth and surprise kept them safe and fed. The indigenous men of the Amazon were famous for leaving real work for the women while they squatted around fires, debating spirits and customs. There was no mystery when understanding peeled back the veil of ignorance. Ana grimaced and barely nodded her head. Edson should have known better. Maybe he was looking for a special ‘fee’ for security services, she thought.
“Look,” Paulo said, pointing to the shore. A pack of capybaras ambled along, munching plants at the water’s edge.
“Capybaras. Big deal, Paulo. That’s the third time in two days,” Ana replied, needing peace and quiet, not a nature guide. She’d seen the world’s largest rodent before. Now if he had said there is Edson, she thought and felt the butterflies in her stomach.
Paulo’s finger shot to his lips to make sure she kept quiet. He pointed a few meters from the last animal. At first, she thought it was a log. But, the strong swirl of water above the alligator’s tail launched the drama.
The reptile hurtled itself onto the land, moving faster than she thought possible. In less than a second, the youngest capybara was gone, dragged under the river’s swirling, shaded surface. The other seven scampered away from the water’s edge into the thick brush without as much as a squeal. The river returned to tranquility; the rest of her team oblivious to what had transpired.
The incident disturbed Ana to the bone. The pack of capybaras had scurried away as if the baby had never been born. Nature was much crueler than it was kind. A shiver zipped through her body and she decided to see what the men were doing in hopes the image would disappear.
The second deck stretched most of the length of the boat, open to the punishing equatorial sun. She poked her head up and saw six men sitting around a makeshift table, playing cards. Aaron was facing her and looked up from his hand to watch Ana swing back and forth as she climbed the ladder, reminding him of Botticelli’s ‘Birth of Venus.’ Her dark hair fell in front of her face to hide the beautiful, emerald green eyes that flashed when she was angry or upset.
“You going to play?” Wayne asked, and then quickly realized why the doctor’s attention had suddenly drifted away from the poker game.
“I fold,” Aaron mumbled and got up to help Ana step onto the rooftop. She staggered at a sudden roll of the ship, fell into Aaron’s arms, and quickly found herself looking up into his eyes as blue as the sky overhead. Wayne shook his head with a chuckle and re-dealt.
“It can be a little difficult moving around this high up,” Aaron said and stepped back.
“I was just being nosy,” Ana replied with a blush. “Perhaps I should go back down and stay on the lower level.” Ana reached out, grabbed the ladder handle, and carefully started back down.
“Be careful,” Aaron whispered with a wink. “We don’t want our leader to fall and break anything.”
Ana smiled back until she realized he wasn’t truly watching her but staring down her blouse. His face flushed when she noticed. She straightened her back. The shake of her head was accompanied by a tiny snort which said, “Men.”
As Paulo had promised, the rain ended right on cue and the sun reappeared as they pulled into the crude landing created earlier by the pirate loggers. The geoglyphs had only appear
ed on satellite photos after loggers had stripped a square mile bare of millennial old virgin trees. Ana made a mental note to ask Edson where he’d been during the logging, the next time they crossed paths.
Seconds after they jumped ashore, an “Ooooooooooh” resounded from the group of students. Barbara stood on top of a stump. “Kill it. Kill it,” she screeched to the young men.
Paulo dashed over then let out a laugh. “It’s just a tarantula,” he said. The spider was the size of a kitten. “Its bite is no worse than a bee sting. Just leave them alone. Or you could consider it as a new pet.” Smiles spread across the faces of the crew as goose-bumps did among the UWF group.
“Stick together,” Paulo cautioned. “Don’t wander off into the forest. Watch where you sit and everything will be fine.” He winked at the three girls and gave the two young men the I mean it look.
The crew began to unload the Vera Cruz.
A deep rumble of powerful diesel engines drew everyone’s eyes to the muddy waters of the Acre River. The Federal Police patrol boat seemed magically suspended over the tiny waves as it cruised toward the landing. Paulo’s crew stopped unloading the Vera Cruz and retreated en masse to the spot where the forest began, each man’s eyes nervously scanning the show of authority. A hundred yards from the shore, the engines cut out to let the launch quietly drift toward the expedition.
On deck, three agents in bullet-proof vests stood in stony silence. Edson appeared from the cabin, dressed in the same attire but carrying an assault rifle in one hand. As his men tied up the boat, he hopped onto the decaying dock with the grace of an Amazonian leopard. His face serious, he strode directly toward Ana.
Paulo walked toward him, cutting Edson’s path, his hand extended in greeting. “Good afternoon, Edson,” he called out and nodded toward the weapon. “Have we become dangerous desperados now?”
