CHAPTER
2
Looking down from 45,000 feet over New Hampshire reminded Eric Holden of a jigsaw puzzle. Green and yellow squares with small blips for the buildings and homes. At nineteen he’d already completed more than twenty jumps, all with his father James who stood in front of him now, letting him peek over his shoulder at the ground below. “This is the highest we’ve ever jumped, Pops,” Eric yelled over the noise of engines and wind. “With the wing-suits we should have four minutes of freefall. You ready?” “Yeah.”
James nodded and pulled down his goggles. Eric playfully gave him a push out before James had a chance to jump. He watched his father flip backward and then even out into the traditional spread pose, his wing-suit catching the air and making him appear like some mutant bird slowly drifting down to earth.
Eric gave the pilot a nod and then vaulted from the plane.
The air was icy and stung the unprotected skin on his cheeks like needles. He spread his arms and thighs, allowing the fabric of the wing-suit to stretch and double his drag. He could see Strawberry River from here, winding through lush hillsides like a coiled snake. He remembered a fight that’d broken out on the riverbank between him and someone that claimed to be the boyfriend of the woman he’d taken camping with him. It only lasted three punches; the guy landed one squarely on Eric’s neck and Eric bashed two hooks into his jaw, knocking him unconscious. Then he helped him into a tent and waited until he came to. The guy didn’t remember what had happened and Eric didn’t have the heart to tell him. Instead, he said that he’d passed out, probably from the heat and dehydration. He bought it, or at least pretended he did.
15,000 feet. Eric decides to free-fly. He points his head downward turning his body vertical, tightens his wing-suit, and shoots toward his father. Adrenaline courses through him, his face turning white and the blood rushing to his organs and away from his extremities. The wind is screaming in his ears and crawls its way down his neck, freezing his chest and making him shiver. He races past his father who doesn’t notice him. Upon passing, Eric grabs the ripcord and pulls his father’s chute.
The parachute expands, causing a surprised James Holden to curse and instinctively reach for the cord to his emergency chute. Eric gives him a thumbs-up from below as his father slows and begins a gentle descent.
The landing is on soft grass and Eric unbuckles from the chute and waits for his father to descend; lying down on the grass with his hands behind his head. James lands fifteen feet away and unbuckles, a grin across his face as he shakes his head.
“That’s dangerous.”
“You did it first, old man. My first jump. Scared the shit outta me.”
Some aides began gathering up the chutes and James collapsed next to Eric. The sun warmed their faces and a light breeze was blowing cotton strands through the air. “You still dating that porn star?” James said. “She’s not a porn star, Dad. Jesus. She was in a swimsuit ad.” James chuckled. “What was her name?” “Wendy.” “How’s old Wendy?” “Good. You with anyone?”
“Nah, here and there. Nothing serious. I wanted to ask you something though; I’m going to India for a few weeks. Want to come with?” “When?” “A week from today. Hunting elephant.” Eric laughed. “What the hell do you know about hunting elephants?” “Nothing. That’s why I’ve hired a guide. It’s not exactly legal over there. You in?” “Can’t. I’ve got finals coming up.” “Well, next time then.”
CHAPTER
3
Though Andhra Pradesh is India’s fifth largest state by population, it has the longest coastline along the Bay of Bengal and dense jungles filled with insect species and plant life that has yet to be catalogued. Farther from the coast, the jungle recedes into the vast open plains of the Deccan Plateau that stretch for hundreds of miles. Rolling green hills and jagged mountains are split open from powerful rivers and the climate, though, bearable, makes many middle class and wealthier Indians likely to find their homes in the densely populated cities rather than the smaller, agrarian villages dotting the countryside.
The cafe in downtown Hyderabad, Andhra Pradesh’s capital city, was crowded with tourists. Many were from Europe and even more from the Middle East who found the proximity and low cost of a trip to Andhra Pradesh appealing.
Dr. Said sat at a table in the corner, sipping Turkish coffee. Some Australian businessmen were sitting at the booth next to him. They were telling jokes about women. Namdi would bet they were cowards at home, bending to the will of wives they despised.
A tall blond walked in to the cafe and asked a waiter something. The waiter pointed to Namdi and the woman came over. Her eyes were rimmed red, from allergies or recent crying, and she wore no make-up, her hair pulled back and held in place with a rubberband. “Dr. Said?” she said. “Yes.” She held out her hand. It was soft and lotioned. “Nancy Larson.” “Nice to meet you. Sit down, please.”
She sat down and placed her purse on the table. Namdi noticed there was a box of tissues and, tucked away underneath, a small handgun.
“What can I do for you, Mrs. Larson?”
“Phillip told me you were an expert on the animals in Andhra Pradesh. That you help governments catch animals that start attacking people.”
“I have in the past, yes.”
She pulled out a photo and slid it across the table. It was her and a thin, white male in shorts and a tank-top standing next to a jeep.
“This is my husband, Davis. He went missing thirty-six days ago.”
“Where?”
“We were near the coast. I was driving that jeep in the picture. We had come for a picture safari. Davis used to love hunting but I got him off of that. I told him it was cruel and that taking a good picture was just as hard as taking a good shot. I don’t think he ever believed me, but he did it anyway.” Nancy took out a tissue from her purse and held it in her hands, twirling the thin paper over and over again. “We saw… something. It was fur that went along some bushes next to the jeep. Davis wanted a photo so we stopped. He thought it might be a wildebeest or something.
“We were speaking about the World Cup that was coming up soon and he was waiting for his photo. I turned to get some water. I just looked away for a second. When I turned back… he was gone. No sounds. He was just gone. I yelled for him and ran around looking for him, even though the hairs on my neck were standing up. I felt like that was an evil place. I still do. But I saw these next to the jeep.”
Nancy pulled out more photos. Namdi took them and held them up. They were prints in the soft dirt. Paws. In one photo, Nancy put her hand next to the paw. Smart girl, he thought. Without perspective, no one would’ve believed it. “These prints-” Namdi began. “Are huge. I know. I’ve shown them to other people too. They said they had to be a hoax.” “Are these the only photos you have?”
“No, I have a few more. But I was only there five or ten minutes before I sped to the police station. We searched for three days. We didn’t even find a shred of clothing. It’s like the earth swallowed him.”
“Mrs. Larson, I’m going to be honest with you because I do not want to give you false hope. There is little chance that he could survive for more than a month on the plains without food or water. Have you considered that maybe he ran away and he planned this?”
“Ran away? He didn’t run away. We had a good marriage. And if he wanted to leave he had better opportunities than that.”
Namdi placed the photographs down. “Mrs. Larson, what is it you’d like me to do?”
