“A hereditary metabolic disorder?”
“Exactly, like favism among certain Mediterranean families or ‘cold-fat disease’ among the Maroon tribes of Venezuela.”
Kouwe crossed to the girl and waved to Nathan. “Hold her still.”
Nathan crossed and held Tama’s head to the pillow.
The shaman positioned one end of the straw into the girl’s nostril, then blew the straw’s powdery content up her nose.
Dr. O’Brien hovered behind him. “Are you the hospital’s clinician? Dr. Rodriguez?”
“No, my dear,” Kouwe said, straightening. “I’m the local witch doctor.”
Kelly looked at him with an expression of disbelief and horror, but before she could object, the girl’s thrashing began to calm, first slowly, then more rapidly.
Kouwe checked Tama’s eyelids. The sick pallor to her skin was already improving. “I’ve found the absorption of certain drugs through the sinus membranes is almost as effective as intravenous administration.”
Kelly looked on in amazement. “It’s working.”
Kouwe passed the pouch to one of the nurses. “Is Dr. Rodriguez on his way in?”
“I called him earlier, Professor,” a nurse answered, glancing at her wristwatch. “He should be here in ten minutes.”
“Make sure the girl gets half a straw of the powder every three hours for the next twenty-four, then once daily. That should stabilize her so her other injuries can be addressed satisfactorily.”
“Yes, Professor.”
On the bed, Tama slowly blinked open her eyes. She stared at the strangers around her, confusion and fright clear in her face, then her eyes found Nathan’s. “Jako Basho,” she said weakly.
“Yes, Brother Monkey is here,” he said in Yanomamo, patting her hand. “You’re safe. Your papa is here, too.”
One of the nurses fetched Takaho. When he saw his daughter awake and speaking, he fell to his knees. His stoic demeanor shattered, and he wept with relief.
“She’ll be fine from here,” Nate assured him.
Kouwe collected his fishing tackle box and retreated from the room. Nathan and Dr. O’Brien followed.
“What was in that powder?” the auburn-haired doctor asked.
“Desiccated ku-nah-ne-mah vine.”
Nate answered the doctor’s confused expression. “Climbing hempweed. The same plant the tribal shaman burned to revive the girl back at the village. Just like I told you before.”
Kelly blushed. “I guess I owe you an apology. I didn’t think…I mean I couldn’t imagine…”
Kouwe patted her on her elbow. “Western ethnocentrism is a common rudeness out here. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He winked at her. “Just outgrown.”
Nate did not feel as courteous. “Next time,” he said harshly, “listen with a more open mind.”
She bit her lip and turned away.
Nathan instantly felt like a cad. His worry and fear throughout the day had worn his patience thin. The doctor had only been trying her best. Knowing he shouldn’t have been so hard on her, he opened his mouth to apologize.
But before he could speak, the front door swung open and a tall redheaded man dressed in khakis and a beat-up Red Sox baseball cap stepped into the lobby. He spotted the doctor. “Kelly, if you’ve finished delivering the supplies, we need to be under way. We’ve a boat that’s willing to take us upriver.”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m all done here.”
She then glanced at Nathan and Kouwe. “Thank you.”
Nathan recognized the similarities between this newcomer and the young doctor: the splash of freckles, the same crinkle around the eyes, even their voices had the same Boston lilt. Her brother, he guessed.
Nathan followed them out of the hospital and into the street. But what he found there caused him to take an involuntary step backward, bumping into Professor Kouwe.
Aligned across the road was a group of ten soldiers in full gear, including M-16s with collapsible butt stocks, holstered pistols, and heavy packs. Nate recognized the shoulder insignia common to them all. Army Rangers. One spoke into a radio and waved the group forward toward the waterfront. The pair of Americans joined the departing group.
“Wait!” someone called from beyond the line of Rangers.
The military wall parted, and a familiar face appeared. It was Manny Azevedo. The stocky black-haired man broke through the ranks. He wore scuffed trousers and the pocket of his shirt had been ripped to a hanging flap. His characteristic bullwhip was wound at his waist.
Nathan returned Manny’s smile and crossed to him. They hugged briefly, patting each other on the back. Then Nathan flicked the torn bit of his khaki shirt. “Playing with Tor-tor again, I see.”
Manny grinned. “The monster’s gained ten kilos since the last time you saw him.”
Nathan laughed. “Great. Like he wasn’t big enough already.” Noting that the Rangers had stopped and were staring at the pair, as were Kelly O’Brien and her brother, Nathan nodded to the military party and leaned closer. “So what’s all this about? Where are they heading?”
Manny glanced at the group. By now, a large crowd of onlookers had gathered to gawk at the line of stiff Army Rangers. “It seems the U.S. government is financing a recon team for a deep-jungle expedition.”
“Why? Are they after drug traffickers?”
By now, Kelly O’Brien had stepped back toward them.
Manny acknowledged her with a nod, then waved a hand to Nathan. “May I introduce you to Dr. Rand? Dr. Nathan Rand.”
“It seems we’ve already met,” Kelly said with an embarrassed smile. “But he never offered his name.”
Nathan sensed something unspoken pass between Kelly and Manny. “What’s going on?” he asked. “What are you searching for upriver?”
She stared him straight in the eyes. Her eyes were the most striking shade of emerald. “We came to find you, Dr. Rand.”
Debriefing
AUGUST 6, 9:15 P.M.
SÃO GABRIEL DA COCHOERIA
Nate crossed the street from Manny’s offices at FUNAI and headed toward the Brazilian army base. He was accompanied by the Brazilian biologist and Professor Kouwe. The professor had just returned from the hospital. Nate was relieved to hear that Tama was recuperating well.
Freshly showered and shaved, his clothes laundered, Nathan Rand felt nothing like the man who had arrived here only hours before with the girl. It was as if he had scraped and scrubbed the jungle from his body along with the dirt and sweat. In a few hours, he went from a newly anointed member of the Yanomamo tribe back to an American citizen. It was amazing the transformational power of Irish Spring deodorant soap. He sniffed at the residual smell.
“After being so long in the jungle, it’s nauseating, isn’t it?” Professor Kouwe said, puffing on a pipe. “When I first left my home in the Venezuelan jungle, it was the bombardment upon my senses—the smells, the noises, the furious motion of civilization—that took the longest to acclimatize to.”
Nathan dropped his arm. “It’s strange how quickly you adapt to the simpler life out in the wilds. But I can tell you one thing that makes all the hassles of modern civilized life worth it.”
“What’s that?” Manny asked.
“Toilet paper,” Nathan said.
Kouwe snorted with laughter. “Why do you think I left the jungle?”
They crossed toward the gate of the illuminated base. The meeting was scheduled to start in another ten minutes. Maybe then he’d have some answers.
As they walked, Nathan glanced over the quiet city and studied this little bastion of civilization. Over the river, a full moon hung, reflected in the sleek surface, blurred by an evening mist spreading into the city. Only at night does the jungle reclaim São Gabriel. After the sun sets, the noises of the city die down, replaced by the echoing song of the nightjar in the surrounding trees, accompanied by the chorus of honking frogs and the vibrato of locusts and crickets. Even in the streets, the flutter
of bats and whine of blood-hungry mosquitoes replace the honk of cars and chatter of people. Only as one passes an open cantina, where the tinkling laughter of late-night patrons flows forth, does human life intrude.
Otherwise, at night, the jungle rules.
Nathan kept pace with Manny. “What could the U.S. government possibly need with me?”
Manny shook his head. “I’m not sure. But it somehow involves your financiers.”
“Tellux Pharmaceuticals?”
“Right. They arrived with several corporate types. Lawyers, by the look of them.”
Nate scowled. “Aren’t there always when Tellux is involved?”
Kouwe spoke around the stem of his pipe. “You didn’t have to sell Eco-tek to them.”
Nate sighed. “Professor…”
The shaman raised his hands in submission. “Sorry. I know…sore subject.”
Sore wasn’t the word Nathan would have used. Established twelve years ago, Eco-Tek had been his father’s brainchild. It was a niche pharmaceutical firm that had sought to utilize shamanic knowledge as the means to discover new botanical drugs. His father had wanted to preserve the wisdom of the vanishing medicine men of the Amazon basin and to insure that these local tribes profited from their own knowledge through intellectual property rights. Not only had it been his father’s dream and purpose in life, but also the culmination of a promise to Nate’s mother, Sarah. While working as a medical doctor for the Peace Corps, she had dedicated her life to the indigenous people here, and her passion was contagious. Nate’s father had promised to continue on in her footsteps and, years later, Eco-Tek was the result, a fusion of razor-sharp business models and nonprofit advocacy.
But now all that was left of his parents’ legacy was gone, dismantled and swallowed by Tellux.
“Looks like we’re getting an escort,” Manny said, breaking through Nate’s thoughts.
At the gate’s guard station, two Rangers in tan berets stood stiffly behind a nervous-looking Brazilian soldier.
Nathan eyed their holstered sidearms warily and wondered again at the nature of this meeting.
As they reached the gates, the Brazilian guard checked their identifications. Then one of the two Rangers stepped forward. “We’re to take you to the debriefing. If you’ll please follow.” He turned sharply on his heel and strode away.
Nathan glanced to his friends, then proceeded through the gates. The second Ranger took up a strategic position behind them. Ushered along by their escorts, with a view of the four military helicopters resting on the camp’s soccer field, Nathan felt a distinct sense of dread in his belly.
None of this seemed to concern Professor Kouwe. He simply puffed on his pipe and strode casually after their armed escort. Manny also appeared more distracted than alarmed.
They were marched past the corrugated Quonset huts that served as barracks for the Brazilian troops and led to a derelict timber-framed warehouse on the far side with the few windows painted black.
The Ranger in the lead opened the rusted door. Nathan was the first through. Expecting to find a gloomy, spider-infested interior, he was surprised to find the large warehouse brightly lit with halogen poles and overhead fluorescents. The cement floor was crisscrossed with cables, some as thick around as his wrist. From one of the three offices lining the back half of the warehouse, a generator could be heard chugging away.
Nathan gaped at the level of sophisticated hardware positioned throughout the room: computers, radio equipment, televisions, and monitors.
Amid all the organized chaos, a long conference table had been set up, strewn with printouts, maps, graphs, even a pile of newspapers. Men and women in both military garb and civilian clothes were busy throughout the room. Several were poring over reams of paper at the table, including Kelly O’Brien.
What’s going on here? Nathan wondered.
“I’m afraid there’s no smoking inside,” their escort said to Professor Kouwe, indicating the lit pipe.
“Of course.” Kouwe tapped out his pipe’s bowl onto the threshold’s dirt floor. The Ranger used his boot heel to squash the burning tobacco. “Thank you.”
From across the way, one of the office doors opened and the tall redheaded man who appeared to be Dr. O’Brien’s brother stepped out. At his side was a man Nate knew well enough to dislike immensely. He was dressed in a navy blue suit with the jacket slung over one arm, a coat Nate was sure bore the Tellux logo. As usual, his dark brown hair was oiled and combed into perfect place, as was his smartly trimmed goatee. The smile he wore as he approached Nathan and his two friends was just as oily.
On the other hand, his redheaded companion crossed with an arm extended and a more genuine expression of welcome. “Dr. Rand, thank you for coming. I think you know Dr. Richard Zane.”
“We’ve met,” Nathan said coldly, then shook the redhead’s hand. The man had a grip that could crush stone.
“I’m Frank O’Brien, the head of operations here. You’ve already met my sister.” He nodded over to Kelly, who glanced up from the table. She lifted a hand in greeting. “Now that you’re all here we can get this meeting under way.”
Frank guided Nate, Kouwe, and Manny toward the table, then waved an arm, signaling the others to take their seats.
A hard-faced man with a long pale scar across his throat settled himself across the table from Nathan. At his side sat one of the Rangers, his two silver bars suggesting he was the captain of the military forces here.
At the head of the table, Richard Zane sat between Kelly and Frank, who remained standing. To the left was another Tellux employee, a small Asian woman in a conservative blue pantsuit. Her eyes glinted with intelligence and seemed to soak in everything around her. Nate caught her gaze. She gave him the faintest of smiles and nodded her head.
Once everyone else was settled, Frank cleared his throat. “First, Dr. Rand, let me welcome you to the command center for Operation Amazonia, a joint operation between the CIA’s Environmental Center and Special Forces Command.” He gave a short nod to the silver-barred captain. “We’re also supported by the Brazilian government and are assisted by Tellux Pharmaceutical’s research division.”
Kelly interrupted her brother, raising a hand. She clearly read the confusion on Nathan’s face. “Dr. Rand, I’m sure you’ve many questions. Foremost being, why you’ve been sought as a partner in this venture.”
Nathan nodded.
Kelly stood. “The main objective of Operation Amazonia is to discover the fate of your father’s lost expedition.”
Nate’s jaw dropped and his vision blackened at the edges. He felt as if he’d just been sucker-punched. He stammered for half a moment until he found his voice. “But…but that was over four years ago.”
“We understand that, but—”
“No!” He found himself on his feet, his chair skittering across the cement behind him. “They’re dead. All dead!”
Professor Kouwe reached to place a restraining hand on his elbow. “Nathan…”
He shook his arm free. He remembered that call as if it were yesterday. He had been finishing up his doctoral thesis at Harvard. He had taken the next plane down to Brazil and joined the search for the vanished team. Memories flowed through him as he stood in the warehouse—the blinding fear, the anger, the frustration. After the searches were called off, he had refused to give up. He couldn’t! He had pleaded with Tellux Pharmaceuticals to help continue the search privately. Tellux had been a co-sponsor, along with Eco-tek, in this venture. The ten-year goal: to conduct a census of the current populations of indigenous tribes and begin a systematic cataloging of their medicinal knowledge before such information was lost forever. But Tellux had refused Nate’s request for assistance. The corporation had supported the conclusion that the team either had been killed by a tribe of hostile Indians or had stumbled upon a camp of drug traffickers.
Nate had not. Over the next year, he spent millions continuing the search, beating the bush for any sign, clue, inkling of what
had become of his father. It was a financial black hole into which he poured Eco-tek’s assets, further destabilizing his father’s company. Eco-tek had already taken a devastating hit on Wall Street, its stock value plummeting after the loss of its CEO in the jungle. Eventually, the well ran dry. Tellux made a run for his father’s company in a hostile takeover bid. Nate was too wounded, tired, and heartsore to fight. Eco-tek and its assets, including Nathan himself, became beholden to the multinational corporation.
Amazonia: a novel Page 5
