by Nick Thacker
The animal continued, jumping over a pile of trash at the end of the alleyway. Joshua stretched out and leaped over the trash pile, closing the distance between himself and the mutt. The dog looked back at him as his foot splashed in a puddle, its tongue lolling around out the side of its mouth.
Joshua could have sworn the dog was smiling at him.
“Come here, you little bastard,” he said, smiling right back. The dog slowed a bit as he reached the end of the alley and tried to decide which direction to turn. Joshua launched himself forward into a diving tackle and reached forward, arms outstretched.
He’d calculated the distance perfectly. The dog was about to run to the right, but Joshua spread his hands out and brought them around the animal just as he landed, his body inches from the dog’s. The dog huffed a quick panting breath of defeat, then allowed himself to be wrapped up into Joshua’s arms.
“You really thought you’d outrun me?” Joshua said. The dog’s huge brown eyes stared up at him, the jovial twinkle of satisfaction still in its eyes. “Let’s get you home, buddy.”
The dog had been walking with its master in a park three blocks away as Joshua was out on a morning run. The owner had tried letting the dog off of its lead to choose a spot, but the dog had other plans. Joshua began chasing after it as soon as he caught the terrified look in the owner’s eyes. He’d always had a soft spot for dogs, and he knew the feeling of losing such a loyal friend.
He walked back to the park, still carrying the dog. The owner, a young woman in her early thirties, saw him and began jogging over. When they met, Joshua allowed the woman to reattach the lead before setting the dog on the ground. The animal stretched its legs, whined once, then harrumphed and sat on the sidewalk. The woman tried to thank Joshua in Portuguese, but he just shook his head and smiled.
She tried thanking him again, this time reaching for a pocketbook.
He held out a hand. “No, please, it’s fine. Happy to help.”
His phone vibrated silently in his pocket, and he reached for it and pulled it out. Perfect timing. The woman got the hint, nodding profusely and thanking him as he turned away and answered the call.
“Joshua.” He spoke the word slowly, articulating it carefully, as was his custom. The person on the other end would be using a computer to analyze his vocal performance, matching it against the library of wavelength files he’d supplied to the Company. He waited for the caller to verify his identity while he forced his breath and heart rate down to a slower, steady pace.
He looked around the small park. No more than a rusting playground in the middle of a grassless knoll, the park was the only such feature on this side of the city. The mist had only recently lifted, and the dewdrops were still sparkling on the few blades of grass they had to choose from. Besides the woman and her dog, there was no one else outside. It was a pristine scene, even considering the weary, run-down area of town his team had been assigned to.
“Very good,” the voice on the other end of the phone said. “Joshua, we have an updated SITREP and possible location.”
Joshua grimaced. He hated his employer’s use of military jargon and acronyms. His contact at the Company, like his own father, had no military experience or training, choosing money and influence as their primary weapons of choice. The real work, the work that actually mattered, they left to people like Joshua.
“Go on,” he said, already growing impatient. The sound of the man’s voice only reminded him of his failed mission the night before.
“The plane landed in Manaus, and the group visited a home in the city. They stayed the night, and are now leaving.”
“And where are they going?”
“It’s impossible to know at this stage, but we believe they will be traveling by river, possibly preparing to embark up- or downstream.”
Joshua took in the information, immediately parsing it against what he knew of the situation. If they took a barge or public boat, it meant they would be with other people, tourists, and they would have to go in quietly. Collateral damage was not an option on this mission. The hotel attack was only planned because the Company wanted a quick turnaround. Joshua’s reconnaissance of the establishment convinced him that there would be no deaths, outside of a few of the group members too stupid to get out of the way as they came for Dr. Meron.
“And why would they choose to travel so slowly in that case?” he asked. “Why not take a plane, or drive?”
“We believe it means that they are heading into the rainforest; their destination is therefore most easily reachable via one of the feeder rivers, and there are no airstrips nearby. It’s the rainy season, so the waters will be flowing higher than normal, meaning boat travel is the most sensible transportation choice.”
Joshua knew this as well, but he didn’t interrupt his employer.
“In addition, they may have an additional team member. A professor, the owner of the house they stayed in. We can’t tell for sure until we have eyes on, but you need to be aware.”
Joshua nodded, still thinking. “Mission parameters remain the same?”
“No,” the voice said. Joshua’s ears perked up slightly. “If they in fact head into the jungle, we will have no need for the stealth we’ve required thus far. The objective is the same — we need Dr. Meron, alive, or we need whatever it is she is looking for — but there will be no local authorities in the rainforest to wonder about any ‘loose ends’ you need to tie up. Once they leave the city, we’re interested in speed.”
This is good, Joshua thought. The sooner the mission was accomplished, the sooner he could get back home. He was usually more than happy to be in the field, but this particular mission was one he despised. His father’s emails explaining the parameters and objective were strange enough — usually he’d get at least a phone call with the mission details — but his contact at the Company had also proven to be nearly insufferable to work with. The man called every day, expecting an update, offering his “advice” to Joshua about how best to control the unfolding situations, and even suggesting how he should manage his team. He’d held his tongue so far, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to refrain from comment much longer.
“I’m pleased to hear that,” he said. “My team is growing restless, and given last night’s —“
“Please, do not worry about last night,” the man said. “We are hoping to include more data points for our next intelligence briefing, and —“
“If you would have allowed my team to do our own intelligence gathering, this wouldn’t have been an issue… Sir.” Joshua said.
There was a long silence, and Joshua steeled himself for a dressing-down. The first million dollars had already been safely wired to his accounts, but he was very interested in receiving the other half of the money as well, upon successful delivery of Dr. Amanda Meron to the Company’s headquarters. He hoped he hadn’t just argued his way out of a job. He waited for the man’s response.
“Unfortunately we cannot do that,” the voice said. “It isn’t an issue of trust, but of data sensitivity.”
Joshua almost asked what the difference was, but caught himself.
“We will remain cognizant of the developments, and provide you with remote support in whatever way possible. You are in charge of the ground team, as well as your particular methods for retrieval of the Company’s interest, but we must retain control of the reconnaissance.”
Figures, he thought. Whatever. “What is the remaining time on the beacon?”
Joshua didn’t know the details, but the Company had ensured him they were tracking the target using a GPS beacon. He wasn’t given the specifics, another fact that irked him, but he knew the Company operated in ways that seemed frustrating to him. He assumed the beacon was placed in a bag one of the group’s members was carrying.
“The device will be charged for a total of at least two days, but starting this morning it will go into a low power mode, and will only emit a signal every hour, then every four, until it dies.”
&
nbsp; Joshua shook his head. We shouldn’t have started tracking them until we knew they’d go off the grid, he thought. But he knew they would have done a lot of things differently, had he been fully in charge of the mission. He made a mental note to renegotiate his contractor status with the Company next time he was in the office.
“Fine,” he said. “Then I need to get my team on the road. I’ll be out of signal range, even from the satellites, once we hit the heavy jungle cover, so my updates will be sporadic.”
“Understood. Thank you, Joshua.”
Joshua hung up the phone and started walking back to their safe house nearby. He saw the woman and her dog rounding the corner near the edge of the park, heading back in his direction after a lap around the square. He smiled, waving as he crossed the street.
The dog whined again, its tail wagging as Joshua left them behind.
27
BEN’S GROUP SET OUT EARLY the next morning from Archie’s home. The old man had a surprising cadre of equipment, and he and Reggie had spent an hour that morning discussing what to take and what to leave behind. They finally settled on just adding some smaller survival tools and devices to the three packs they already had. Reggie was mostly unimpressed with the offerings, claiming much of the gear was “too old,” “outdated,” or “just for looks.” The two men took turns throwing friendly insults at one another as the rest of the group worked on cooking, eating, and cleaning a massive breakfast.
Their location was within walking distance from the house, only two blocks south, so they began walking up the gentle sloping street just as the sun was inching over the horizon on their left. When they reached a small shack set off from the street a few paces, Archie stopped and pointed at the building. Ben looked above the tiny building and saw a simple, hand-painted sign written in Portuguese, with an English translation just below it: Boat Tours. He was surprised to see another hand-painted sign covering the only window on the shop’s face: “Closed.”
“It’s open,” Archie explained. “They just don’t do a lot of marketing. Helps keep the tourists out.” He turned around and addressed the group. “Wait here. I’ll be able to get us a pretty good rate.”
Archie walked across the cracked concrete walkway that led to the shop’s front door and banged on the window. Footsteps sounded from inside the building, and a heavyset, drooping old man yanked the door open. Ben watched the two older men exchange words, the shop owner exaggerating his speech with wild arm and hand motions. Finally, Archie turned back around and smiled. He walked back to the group.
“Great,” he said. “We just need to find the boat down at the docks. They’ll call down and tell the captain to expect us.”
Without waiting for a response, Archie began walking south again, the group in tow.
Ben sped up to match Archie’s pace. “Tell me again why we have to take a boat? Wouldn’t it be faster to fly?”
Archie shook his head. “No, it’s the end of the rainy season, so much of the lower areas are flooded. The rivers are easier to navigate, but runways are either nonexistent or in unknown condition.”
“What about flying over to Peru or Bolivia first, then heading north into the area we’re looking for?”
Archie chuckled. “The place we’re going is as remote as any; some of the most unforgiving environment on the planet. You do not just ‘hike in’ from those countries — the only place to fly to in Bolivia right now is La Paz, and then you’d need to cross Las Cordilleras and the Altiplano, and of course navigate the cliffs and falls to get down to the levels of the upper basin. If we survived that, we’d then need to figure out how to get downstream the rest of the few-hundred miles we’d need to travel, since we didn’t bring a boat. The forest is so dense in these parts that traveling is only possible on the river, and believe me, we will want a boat.”
Ben nodded. “I’m all for using a boat, it just seems slow.”
“It will not be. The river’s width will make the current slower in most places, so it will not be a challenge to push the boat upstream. Besides, the boat is big, and has a motor. See?”
Ben followed the man’s finger as he pointed down the street. They’d slowly rounded the top of the hill and were now descending down the other side. The stretch of docks connecting Manaus to the rest of the Amazon River were now in full view, and the sight took Ben by surprise.
Behind him, Julie and Amanda both gasped.
“Woah,” Rhett said.
“Welcome to Manaus,” Paulinho said, the last of the group to clear the ridge.
Ben wasn’t sure what to expect when Archie had explained that they’d be traveling by boat. He supposed the boat would have been an open-top, flat-bottomed boat, pushed along by long poles of some sort. They would pile their supplies in the center of the deck, each taking turns pushing them along upstream until they reached their destination.
He could only have been more wrong if he’d guessed they would travel in a canoe. The docks in front of them stretched across his entire field of vision — boats of all shapes and sizes nearly stacked on top of one another, crammed together closer than the houses and buildings on each side of the street they were on.
But it was the size of the boats that most surprised him. The largest stood a full three stories above the water, wraparound decks on each level, like a floating civil war-era Atlanta mansion. There were three or four of these gargantuan boats, two of them already full of tourists, hanging over the railings and gawking at the passersby far down below. He was close enough to see individual faces now, and there were families, smiling and pointing as they held their phones out over the ledges and snapped selfies.
The smaller boats were still large by his standards — two- or three-stories tall, some twice as long as the largest of the tourist boats. There were freight carriers, flat-topped and powered by massive diesel engines, and other commercial-looking vessels, all bobbing along beside the others.
Even between these larger crafts Ben could see dozens of small, single-person boats, pushing against each other as they fought for dockside real estate. Some of the smallest vessels carried loads of bananas, fish, and other sacks of goods, while others sat empty, awaiting the return of their owner.
The noise was nearly deafening now, as they reached the edge of the congregation of dockworkers and tourists that gathered for the morning departures. The sound had been slowly increasing in volume, but it was only now that Ben realized how intense it had gotten. Vendors yelled for attention, tourists shouted at one another, corralling family members together, and the normal hustle and bustle of urban city life competed with all the rest of it.
The midsummer sun was still low on the horizon, but it was already nearly sweltering. Ben wiped his forehead with a wrist and smiled at Julie.
“Crazy, isn’t it?” he said.
“I had no idea it was this… big.”
He nodded, turning back to the living picture in front of him. The heat, the noise, and the volume of people and boats all screamed for his attention, but nothing could compare to the river, sitting silently behind the scene.
The river was absolutely marvelous. Ben could barely see the shore on the other side, and the large bridge that traversed the body of water was only visible for some distance before it too vanished. The sparkling morning light gave it a sheen that contrasted sharply with the horizon and sky above it, and painted a perfect backdrop for the thousands of travelers preparing for their journeys.
“Our boat should be one of the midsize ones,” Archie explained. He pushed his way through a group of locals and veered off to the left. “The boat is called the Adagio,” Archie said. “Means ‘slow,’ but don’t let that fool you — speed isn’t nearly as important as integrity. Adagio has the fuel capacity to get us to the higher basin and back twice, and our skipper isn’t as opposed to traveling at night as some other captains are. He’s also the only one around who didn’t have a tour planned, so we will have the boat to ourselves.”
“There it is!” R
hett pointed to a large, three-level boat that floated behind three smaller boats on the water. Adagio was stenciled in all capital letters on the bow. Aside from trails of reddish residue that had crept up the boat’s side, the Adagio was pristine white. One man hauled in lines and curled them up on the deck of the boat, while another, undoubtedly the skipper, watched from inside a glass-enclosed front window. The boat itself was facing the city, but a gentle foam of wake had already formed behind the giant floating machine, the engines already heated up and prepared for departure.
Ben and the others picked up their pace as they descended the rest of the slight hill and approached the docks. The chaos of the masses of people bustling around the makeshift harbor was heightened from their closer perspective, and Ben was growing more and more anxious as every second ticked by.
“Are you okay?” Julie asked, grabbing for his hand. He allowed her to bring his hand in around her waist, pulling his body closer as the walked side by side.
“Yeah,” he said. He knew she was only trying to help, but her question only reminded him of his own reclusive tendencies and discomfort of crowds and busy places. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he repeated. “I just need to get on that boat and find a quiet corner.”
“Soon enough,” she responded. Juliette leaned in closer and whispered into Ben’s ear. “And maybe we can find a corner big enough for both of us.”
He smiled, starting to feel more relaxed already. Some quiet time with Julie would be more than welcome, considering how insane the last few days had been. He started daydreaming a bit, hoping the boat ride would be mostly uneventful and give them all a chance to decompress.
Rhett had been walking a few paces ahead of them, and he suddenly turned and darted back into the safety of the group. His eyes were wild, wide-eyed, and it was clear he was distressed.
