When he came to the surface, Maggie yelled. “Oh, I see the plan, leave the defenseless woman on top of the falls so she has no other choice.” She grabbed for Nick’s hand. “Don’t leave me here.” She looked wide-eyed at Nick.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll lead you down the trail if you want.”
Maggie looked over the lip again. Robert and Wright had swum to the boat. “Well, I guess when in Rome…” She held tight onto Nick’s hand, and they both leaped. Maggie screamed all the way down.
They came up out of the water at the same time, and Maggie grabbed Nick’s neck, almost pulling him under water. “I did it!” she yelled. “Now get me out of here.”
* * *
They were almost back to the longhouse when a buzzing came from a small bag that Wright had tucked under his seat in the boat. He looked at Nick and Maggie apologetically and sighed deeply. They both looked at the bag in wonder. “I’m so sorry, you all. It’s my satellite phone. It’s an unfortunate part of leading a company. They know not to call unless it’s an absolute emergency.”
Wright pulled the bag from its resting place, opened it, pulled out a sat phone, and extended a large antenna.
“Yes,” he said into the phone.
“Hello,” he said louder. All he heard was rustling. He was about to get mad that someone might have pocket-called him. “Hello?”
He heard shouting and chaos and then sobbing. “Oh my God.”
“Amy?”
“Just do it!” Amy shouted to someone in the background.
“Amy, what is happening?”
She said something garbled and sobbed louder.
“Amy, settle down,” Wright yelled into the phone.
“He…he went berserk,” Dr. Amy cried. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Oh my God, I don’t know what to do.”
“Amy, please calm down and tell me what happened. You are not making any sense. Who went berserk?”
There were more sobs and heavy commotion on the other end.
“We need you here, Wright,” she screamed into the phone. “He went crazy and tore into Joseph and then killed two females. We had to shoot him…we just had to shoot him.”
“What? Who? Joseph?”
“King Louie, we’ve killed King Louie.”
There was a loud gunshot that resounded in the phone just before it went dead. Wright looked at the face of the sat phone.
“Damn. Amy, Amy!” Wright yelled into the phone until he realized it was useless—the connection lost. He immediately hit redial but got only a busy signal. He hung up and dialed another number.
“Leah…Wright. Get to the research center, now!” he yelled. “I have no idea what is happening, but the shit has hit the fan.” Wright looked at the time on the phone and calculated the distance. Going downstream at full speed would make the trip much quicker. “I’ll be there in four hours.”
CHAPTER 23
SEPARATION
“I am so sorry that I’m cutting our time in the jungle short,” Wright said as the longhouse came into sight. “There is so much more I wanted to show you.”
“I hope everything is okay back at the research center,” Nick said.
“Dr. Amy can be a bit on the dramatic side, but I better check on things. I’m just sorry I have to leave.”
Nick was disappointed as well. There was something about this place, and he wanted more of it. He knew of all the dangers and peril, even the murdered man. But the Iban seemed to take it all in stride as the cycle of life. If someone from another longhouse had taken the head, it was probably a one-time occurrence. Whoever did it would be exposed and punished. Rumors swirled over an argument between the victim and a man downriver over a fishing hole. They would know the truth soon enough.
“Whatever is brewing at the research center can be dealt with quickly, I’m sure,” Wright said. “There is no reason that we can’t come back out tomorrow morning.”
“We are supposed to fly out in two days anyway,” Maggie said, sounding unhappy to be leaving. “I was hoping to do a little shopping in Singapore before we left.”
Nick smiled at her. Ah, the real concern.
“I’ve been thinking about your return flight,” Wright said. “With the kind of money we spent on tickets, the airlines are pretty flexible on switching dates if they can…you guys interested?”
“Yeah!” Maggie and Nick answered together.
Nick added, “We don’t want to impose, but I’m not sure I’ll ever get a chance to see this part of the world again…and you still owe me that tuak and work discussion.”
“That would be brilliant,” Wright said. “For now, you’re both welcome to stay here or go back to the research center. I should be back tomorrow sometime.”
“I would love to stay with Robert and Ruth. If that’s okay with you, Robert,” Nick turned to the man, who nodded enthusiastically. Nick turned to Maggie.
She looked at the bottom of the boat. “Sorry, Nick. I’m looking forward to a hot shower and that cozy bed.”
“Well, you can each have your way. Nick, stay and enjoy the rainforest, and Maggie, come back with me. I’ll have the chefs prepare a delightful meal for you.”
Nick regarded Maggie. He was surprised and a little hurt that she was nodding in agreement with Wright’s plan. Nick hoped she’d stay at the longhouse, and they might get a little time alone under the stars—as much as that was possible among two-hundred people separated by thin walls.
“Nick, you don’t mind?” Maggie asked him.
What was he going to say? Yes, I mind, or I’ve changed my mind and I am going to go with you. Either way, he looked like a schmuck. “No, I suppose not. I think you are in good hands.”
* * *
Nick waved to Wright and Maggie as the longboat pulled away from the dock. Something in his spirit was unsettled, and he didn’t know why. Wright had assured him that he knew the river like the veins on the back of his hand. They’d get home shortly after dark. They debated who should keep the satellite phone. Wright offered to leave it with Nick, but Nick won the argument, wanting them to have it in case they had any problems getting back to the research center.
When they had returned to the longhouse they learned that Ruth had a five-year-old boy in their apartment with a large piece of wood stuck in his hand. It required a doctor’s attention, and this sealed Nick’s decision to stay. Nick was still sore at Maggie for bailing on their chance to spend time together, but he understood that she wouldn’t cherish another night in the hammock with visions of spiders descending from the rafters.
In Robert and Ruth’s apartment Nick smiled at the five-year-old. The boy sat on the floor stoically before the white man, holding out his hand to be examined. The boy reminded him of Ibrahim and wondered how he was getting along in the States. Ali and Astî made loving parents for the child and would give him every opportunity to succeed. Maybe he’d even become a doctor—his hands held God’s power of healing.
Nick focused his eyes, the eyes that Ibrahim had touched, and he thanked God for the return of his vision. He was sure he would never have adjusted to being blind. The wood in the boy’s hand was embedded deep within the thenar eminence, the pad of the palm under the thumb. In Memphis, Nick had removed larger penetrating objects—knives, bullets or the frequent penny nail. A pneumatic nail gun could drive a large nail through a bone as smoothly as it did a two-by-four, and because the nails were often coated with adhesive, they could be difficult to extract.
The splintered piece of wood didn’t penetrate nearly that far, but wood was tricky. Its rough edges gripped the tissues like Velcro. If the splinter wasn’t removed, it would fester and be infected by morning.
Nick opened the small first-aid kit that Wright left with him. It wasn’t much, but it did contain some disinfectant, a syringe, and an eighteen-gauge needle.
He looked at Robert. “Let’s lay him down so I can work on his hand.”
The boy reclined on the floor mat, and Robert turned
the child’s face away so he couldn’t watch. Robert laid a loving hand on his head for reassurance.
Nick laid prone onto his stomach and took a flashlight in one hand and the needle in the other. It was the first time doing surgery lying down. He rested his arms on the bamboo mat as his normally rock-steady hands shook. His muscle memory had faded and he was amazed how unconfident he felt. Have I ever been a surgeon? He was thankful he wasn’t trying to reattach a finger, delicately suturing the tiny nerves and arteries together. He was unsure he could ever do that or any other surgery again. Maybe his tenure as a surgeon was truly over. He wished that Wright had explained his job offer more thoroughly; perhaps there was life outside the operating room.
He opened two disinfectant pads and swabbed the area. Nick knew the disinfectant burned, and the child winced. Through trembling hands, he picked at the skin overlying the chunk of wood. The child’s hand stayed steadier than his own. Using the sharp end of the needle, he unroofed the splinter and gently pulled at the wood. Breaking it off would be unfortunate, and he decided a bit more dissection was needed, but going deeper would be painful.
He looked at Robert and then the boy, who had a tear falling down his cheek but remained still. Nick had forgotten how much he detested hurting people. Why does pain so often precede healing, Father?
He slipped the needle along each side of the wood, trying to release its grip. The trick worked, and the piece of wood lifted out with the needle. He held the three-inch splinter up to the light and then showed the boy, whose eyes widened, and he smiled.
“Robert, tell him I’m going to wash the wound with some soap and water, put a dressing on and then we’re done. I’m not going to put any stitches in so as not to get it infected. It’s better to leave it open. We’ll clean it every day while I’m here.”
The child sat up and took the splinter from Nick, chatting happily.
“He wants to show his friends,” Robert explained.
Nick patted the boy on the head and the boy smiled at his hand without the wood sticking out.
Nick was as relieved as the boy.
* * *
Wright looked out the windows of the conference room as Leah handed Dr. Amy a glass of water. The CEO had the situation under control before they had reached the research center. He wasn’t surprised, as he had little doubt in her ability. He told Maggie she should go enjoy a long bath and gave his chef instructions to prepare something delicious for her. Then he went about settling Dr. Amy’s nerves and finding out what had happened.
Amy was ashen, and mascara smeared her face. He’d always hated dealing with emotions. Leading a company of eight thousand would be easy if not for the weak and sensitive people. Needy people helping people in need—maybe that should be the company’s real slogan. Dr. Amy was one of the worst. She was brilliant and a valuable researcher but always needed reassurance. He sighed and pushed his anger down.
“What do you think happened?” he asked her.
“Bloody hell, I have no idea. King Louie and the younger male have squabbled a few times in the past, but they always worked it out. We saw no signs of this coming,” Amy said, her bottom lip quivering. “Two females were caught between them. Then Joseph, one of the caretakers, went to separate the two, and Louie attacked him. When we got there, Louie was standing on top of Joseph, enraged. There was nothing we could do to coax him away.” She put her face in her hands. “I’ve never seen Louie or any other orangutan behave like that. His eyes were ablaze. Joseph should never have gone in there alone.” She wept audibly.
Wright looked at Leah. “Joseph has severe facial and upper body wounds. He is already in surgery in Singapore,” she said without emotion.
“Will you do an autopsy of the orangutan?”
Amy wiped at her tears. “Of course.”
“And the younger male?” Wright asked.
“Once…Louie was dead”—she stumbled over her words—“and we got Joseph out of there, the younger male went berserk as well. He slammed himself against one of the walls.” She started to cough and gag on her emotions. “There was nothing we could do. We had to shoot him as well.” She looked at Wright through inflamed red eyes. “I am sorry, I am so sorry,” she said, then dissolved into tears again.
“Any thoughts?” Wright looked at Leah, who took a step away from the emotional woman.
“They are wild animals you know,” Leah said. “The younger male was challenging the dominant, and the females and the boy got in the way. It’s over and cleaned up.”
“Okay, let me know if you find something unusual on the autopsies,” Wright said and left the room.
* * *
The knock on her door surprised Maggie. She was lying on the bed, not expecting company, and was wearing only an oversized T-shirt. She quickly sat up and covered herself with the bed sheet.
“Come in,” she called.
Wright opened the door, and any embarrassment she might have felt evaporated when she saw the baby orangutan in his arms. “Oh my Lord, that has to be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” she gushed.
“Sorry to disturb you. I was hoping you were still up so we could come for a visit.” Wright bounced the small ape on his hip as though it were a young child. He poked the ape’s fat belly and held out his hand. The little ape grabbed his finger. The baby stuck out its tongue and leaned backward so that it hung upside down, clowning for Maggie.
The baby was so ugly it was adorable. Its dark forehead resembled a bald-headed old man with tufts of hair sticking straight up in back. It blew raspberries at Maggie from big lips and a tan mug. The baby’s dark, inquisitive eyes searched her up and down. Apparently satisfied, the baby ape somersaulted out of Wright’s arms onto the floor. It made endearing hooting sounds as it waddled to Maggie’s bed, its gangly arms held over his head for balance. The baby ape’s reddish-brown fur was fine and frizzled, as though its keepers had blown it out with a hair dryer.
Maggie threw off the sheet and leaped off the bed to receive the baby. It took two quick skips and jumped into her arms. It was heavier than she expected, but it buried its face in the nape of her neck and purred like a contented cat.
“I think he likes you,” Wright said and smiled.
“I have never seen anything as delightful, I swear.” Maggie cuddled into the baby orangutan. “Does he have a name?”
“Well, LT-4, but say the word and you can give him a proper name.”
The ape reached up and caressed her face. Then he took a strand of her hair and ran it between his nose and his upper lip, creating a black mustache. Maggie and Wright laughed. Their approval animated the baby even more, and he puckered his face at Maggie, staring deeply into her eyes. His eyes were like black onyx gems that searched the depths of her soul.
“They’re like little humans, aren’t they?” Maggie said.
“At least the closest thing to it.”
“I’m going to have to take you home, little one.” The baby seemed to understand and wrapped his arms around her neck. She patted his back and turned seriously to Wright. “Everything else okay? I’ve been worried.”
“Yes, it’s all fine now. A bit of a rouse with a couple of the males, but everything is back in its place.”
“I’m so glad.” Maggie pulled away from the baby to look at his face. “I think we should call him Larry. He reminds me of a Larry, don’t you think?” She turned the orangutan toward Wright.
The baby grabbed the edge of Maggie’s long T-shirt, and before she could react, pulled it up, almost exposing her breasts.
She shrieked and tried pushing the baby away from her, but his arms were as long as hers, and he wouldn’t let go of her nightshirt. Wright came racing to her rescue and pulled the baby away. The orangutan protested loudly.
“This little guy must be hungry,” Wright said. “I’ll take him back.”
Maggie bristled and pulled her shirt back into place, laughing with embarrassment. “Sorry, Larry, you won’t find any dinner there.” T
hen she added, “Larry. He’s definitely a Larry.”
CHAPTER 24
FISHING
Nick didn’t know how the Iban did it. There were too many things to think about, like not falling off the end of the boat or knocking himself in the water with the net. With his pale white skin and lack of fishing skills, the only reason he came close to fitting in was that he was bare chested and wearing shorts like all the other men fishing on the river. Robert had found some shade from the jungle canopy at a fishing hole and was laughing.
“I think you have frightened the fish to death, Nickloss. They should be floating to the surface any moment.” He then gave an even louder snort.
Nick stood on the nose of the boat, peering into the water of the fishing hole, and pulled the weighted net up by its rope. Of course it was empty. It had hit the water like a chunk of concrete with a loud splash—a complete belly flop.
“Let me show you one more time,” Robert said and joined him at the front of the boat. The near-eighty-year-old moved with ease in the longboat. Taking the net from Nick, he stepped to the very lip of the boat, like he was hanging ten on a surfboard. Nick estimated that the casting net weighed less than fifteen pounds, so it wasn’t the weight that was the problem; but once expanded, the net was almost fifteen feet in diameter with yards of nylon to hold onto. Robert took part of the weighted line into his mouth and showed Nick once again how to separate the net, fashion it around his arms, twist his body at the waist, and let it fly. Robert’s throw made a beautiful circle in the air before touching down on the top of the water and sinking to the depths below. He let the lead line sink for a half a minute, then pulled it all in. There were two small fish wiggling in the net as he brought it up. He opened the net, and the two fish fell into the bottom of the boat and flopped around.
“It’s like that, Nickloss,” Robert said, smiling and handing the net back to him.
“You know, when I would go fishing with my dad in Montana we would always have to give each other a dollar for the first, the most, and the largest fish. So far, I owe you three dollars.”
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