Little Tiny Teeth

“It was Tim that went to get the bag with the spider in it,” Phil observed thoughtfully. “So does that make him the someone, in your opinion?”

“No, the bag was in one of the luggage rooms. No lock. Anyone could have put it there.”

“But how would he know Arden would open it up?”

143

“He’d know he’d open it sometime.”

“Yeah,” John said, “but how long could a spider stay alive in there?”

“Long enough to last the trip, that’s for sure.”

“Well, okay, then, it’s possible. But it wasn’t poisonous, so what’s the point?”

“That is the point. Pay attention, John. If what I’m saying is right, they’re not trying to kill him; they just want to frighten him, or maybe make him look ridiculous.”

“But why?” Phil asked. “And who? Whom. Who.”

Gideon shrugged. “No idea.”

“In that case, let’s go look at the stars some more,” Phil said. “Maybe it’ll come to us. And be careful, you guys, we’re more buzzed than you think, and there’s no railing up there.”

John was shaking his head. “I don’t know about all this, Doc,” he said as they started back. “It sounds kind of crazy to me. That’s taking a lot of risks just to make Scofield look silly.”

“They don’t like the guy, you pointed that out yourself.”

John acknowledged this with a tip of his chin. “Yeah, well, that’s so. Okay, it’s possible, but that’s all. At this point it’s just a theory.”

“Correct, only it’s not even a theory. It’s not even a hypothesis. It’s what I said, a supposition, an inferential conclusion not based on anything close to adequate substantiation, empirical or otherwise. But it’s certainly worth considering.”

John sighed, as he often did when Gideon got professorial with him. “Well, whatever the hell it is, are you gonna mention it to Scofield?”

“That’s a good question and, you know, I’m not sure. Probably not, I’d say. First off, it is just a supposition. Besides, it’s pretty clear

144

he and his people—Tim, Maggie, Mel ...even Duayne—have some not-so-great vibes going on between them, so why should I want to stir things up any more? He’s obviously paranoid when it comes to the Indians. Do I want to make him paranoid about the people he works with? I think maybe I’ll just let it go—unless something else happens, and then I think I owe it to him to tell him.”

Phil nodded. “I agree with that. And anyway, assuming you’re right about what’s going on, I’m betting that’s it; it’s over and done with. Whoever it is made his point. If he’s trying to scare Scofield, or bring him down a few notches, how could he do any better than he did today?”

“Well, I think you should tell him, Doc,” John said as they mounted the steps. “I think you owe it to him.”

“Maybe I will, John. I haven’t really decided. Let’s see what he’s like when he comes out of his room tomorrow.”

“If he comes out of his room,” Phil said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t, or at least doesn’t show himself out on deck in the open anymore. Or if he does, I’m betting at least he finds some excuse for not getting out and going on any of the treks, even on the other side of the river.”

“Nope,” said John. “This is a guy who cares too much about how he comes off to other people to do that. No, I think Maggie and the rest of them are wrong. I think he’ll come up with some excuse— nothing to do with what happened, of course—for calling the whole thing off and turning the ship around. No, on second thought, he’ll probably get Vargas to come up with an excuse, engine trouble or something.”

Gideon disagreed with both of them. “Uh-uh. If he did that, everybody would see right through it, and he couldn’t live with that.

145

My guess is, upset as he is, he’ll just laugh it off and go right on with the cruise. Too much pride to do anything else.”

As they approached their chairs, they were greeted first by trailing smoke that smelled a lot worse than marijuana, and then by a welcome of sorts.

“Hola, the three musketeers return,” called Cisco, laughing away.

“The three mouseketeers,” chortled Tim. They were both pretty much pie-eyed.

“The three mosquitoes,” amended Cisco, engendering even greater hilarity.

“These guys are a laugh riot,” John growled as he sank into his chair and put his feet up on the railing again. John had a hard time disguising his aversion to drugs and drug-takers, not that he generally made any attempt to do so; no surprise, considering that hard-drug trafficking was one of his areas of expertise and he was familiar with both ends of the long, wretched chain and all the sorry creatures in between. “For Christ’s sake, that stuff really stinks,” he called. “It smells like a rainy day at the lion house. Go back to your Mary Jane, will you? For our sake, anyway.”

“No, come on, man,” Tim said amicably, “don’t be like that. This is really good stuff here.”

“High-quality chacruna,” said Cisco. “Gift of the gods.”