“These hikes and things, we’re supposed to be taking them on the south bank, right?”
It was dishearteningly obvious that Cisco had no idea what Mel was talking about, no memory of what he himself had told them a few hours ago. “Yeah, that’s the plan, you got it,” he said.
“Well, what’s so special about the south side? I mean, aren’t the plants and things pretty much the same on either side?”
A shrug. “Pretty much. Same microclimate.”
“Okay, so why don’t we just stay away from the south side? That’s where the damn spear came from, and if people are really worried that somebody else might be waiting further down, we can do our treks on the other side. That’d put seven miles of open water between us and them.”
“I guess we could do that,” Cisco agreed. “Hell, I don’t care. Whatever you want.”
“Are there any Chayacuro on that side?” Tim asked.
Cisco, seeing that he wasn’t going to be able to devote his full attention to the pudding for a while, sighed and put it on the table behind him. “No one knows where the Chayacuro are, buddy. See, they’re not a tribe, like you’re thinking of a tribe, with a chief and a village and everything. They’re a bunch of small bands, maybe three or four families in each one, and they don’t stay any one place more than a couple of seasons. They say there used to be bands on both sides fifty years ago, but who knows anymore? My guess is no.”
“What about other groups?” Maggie asked. “Friendly groups, I mean. Remember, we want to meet with some
“Lady, I got them everywhere. The Orejon, the Boruna. I can dig you up a couple of old-school shamans, the real thing, pals of mine.”
“Good. Captain, would you have any problem with the change in route?”
Vargas, still at his station behind the buffet table, shook his head. “No, no trouble. It would only be for tomorrow anyway. The following day we will divert to the Javaro, which will take us into different country.”
“Okay, then,” Mel said, “
“Shouldn’t we clear it with Dr. Scofield first?” Tim asked.
Mel shrugged. “So we’ll clear it with him.” He laughed. “You think he’s going to object to putting the whole Amazon River between us and the Chayacuro?”
“Well, but . . .” Tim was frowning. “Cisco said he was guessing. What if there
Cisco responded with a derisive snicker. “How the hell would they know what we’re going to do? And what would they warn them with? Cell phones? E-mail?”
Tim took offense. “Hey, you’re the one who said they had all these”—He put his hands up beside his ears and waggled his long fingers—“all these
can’t understand. What, they can’t use them to communicate with each other?”
Cisco looked pityingly at him. “Not across seven miles of open water,” he mumbled to his bread pudding and went back to eating it.
ELEVEN
WHENdinner was finished and most of the passengers had gone back to their cabins to rest, or shower, or read, Gideon remained on the lower deck. The smashed side window of the bar had been boarded up with a trelliswork of one-by-three lumber, and he was peering through it at the substantial gouge that the lance had left at the junction of floor and baseboard.
“Hmm,” he said. He backed slowly away from the bar until he reached the starboard railing—three and a half paces—walked back to stand in front of the bar, turned to look behind him toward the distant, darkening shore, turned again to look down the deck toward the front of the boat, looked laterally across the breadth of the
“Huh,” he said.
Mel, who had gone into the dining room with an empty plastic water bottle a few moments earlier, came out with a filled one and a handful of miniature bananas.
He stopped near Gideon. “Trying to figure out if you can get a bottle out between the boards?”
Gideon smiled. “I figured it was worth a shot.”
“Well, forget it. I already tried. Can’t be done.” He continued on his way to the forward stairs.
Gideon went through his pacing and gazing and arm-folding a little longer, then climbed the stairs himself, hoping to find Vargas in the wheelhouse, which was located at the front of the upper deck, forward of the cabins. He spotted the captain through the open window, looking very nautical, smoking a thin cigar and leaning over a
