'I thought so. Look at this map on my computer. I got it through a NOAA weather satellite. It shows the water temperature of the ocean. See that little red bump in the water off the Baja? Sudden temperature change.'
'You're saying our whales became sick shortly after they passed this area of warm temperature?'
'Maybe. But I'm more interested in what caused that change. '
'1 think you're about to suggest a trip south of the border.'
'I could use an interpreter. Paul and Gamay won't be back in Arlington for a few days.'
'No problemo. It's important for me to stay in touch with my Mexican roots.'
He got up and started for the door.
'Where are you going?' Austin said.
Zavala looked at the clock. 'The night is young. Two devilishly handsome and eligible bachelors sitting in their room talking about dead whales and hot water. Not healthy, amigo. I saw a beautiful woman in the lounge as I passed by. She looks as if she could use company.'
'I thought you were giving women up.'
'A momentary delusion caused by my injuries. Besides, I think she had a friend,' Zavala said. 'And there's a good jazz band playing in the lounge.'
Austin's appreciation for cool jazz came right after his love of beautiful women and fast boats. A tequila and lime juice night cap would taste mighty good. To say nothing about female companionship. He grinned and closed the cover on his laptop computer.
Chapter 5
'How do you like your meal?' Dr. Ramirez inquired.
Paul and Gamay exchanged glances. 'It's wonderful,' Gamay said. Indeed it was, she thought, surprisingly so. She would have to tell St. Julien Perlmutter, naval historian and gourmet, about this exotic dinner. The thin, tender slices of white meat were spiced with local herbs, accompanied by rich, dark gravy and fresh sweet potatoes. Dinner was served with a respectable Chilean white wine. Oh God! She'd been in the jungle so long she had developed a taste for roast tapir. Next she'd be craving howler monkeys.
Paul displayed his Yankee bluntness. 'I agree. It's terrific. We'd never guess it would be so good after seeing the men carry that odd-looking beast in from the forest.'
Ramirez put his fork down, a puzzled expression on his face. 'Beast? The forest-I'm afraid I don't understand.'
'The tapir,' Gamay volunteered hesitantly as she glanced down at her plate.
Ramirez looked stunned, then his mustache twitched and he broke out into a deep laugh. He brought his napkin to his lips. 'You thought . . .' He started to laugh again. 'Excuse me. I am a poor host. Amusing myself at the expense of my guests. But I must assure you that this is not the animal you saw being trundled in from the hunt. I bought a pig from a neighboring village
for this feast.' He made a sour face. 'Tapir. I can't imagine what it is like. Perhaps it's quite tasty.'
Ramirez poured more wine and raised his glass in a toast. 'I will miss you, my friends. Your company has been most enjoy able, and we have had many delightful conversations around this table.'
'Thank you,' Gamay said. 'It has been a fascinating experience for us. Today may have been our most exciting day, how ever.'
'Ah, yes, the poor Indian.'
Paul shook his head. 'I can't get over the sophisticated nature of all those gadgets he had with him.'
Ramirez spread his palms apart. 'The People of the Mists are a mysterious tribe.'
'What do you know about them?' Gamay said, her scientific curiosity aroused. Before she attained a doctorate in marine biology from Scripps Institute of Oceanography, she had been a marine archaeologist and had taken many anthropology courses during her studies at the University of North Carolina.
Ramirez took a sip of wine, nodded with appreciation, and stared off into space as he ordered his thoughts. The buzzing and chirping of millions of tropical insects came through the screened windows, and the concert provided a fitting back ground for tales of the rain forest.
After a moment's reflection, he said, 'First you must realize as we sit here in this island of civilization, with our propane gas stove and our electrical generator, that only a few years ago we would have been dead within minutes had we strayed into this part of the forest. Fierce Indians inhabited the area. Head hunting and cannibalism were commonplace. Anyone, whether you were a missionary bringing in the word of God or a hunter searching for animal skins, was regarded as an intruder who must be killed. Only recently have these people been domesticated.'
'Except for the Chulo,' Gamay ventured.
'Correct. They retreated further into the forest rather than
be pacified. I must confess that I learned more about them today than I knew in the three years I have been living here. I have seriously doubted they even exist. With this tribe you must separate facts from legend. The other Indians avoid the forest beyond the Great Falls. They say people who go into Chulo territory never come out. Their fear, as you saw today, is real. Those are the scant facts.' 'And the legend?' Gamay said.
'They can make themselves invisible,' Ramirez said with a smile. 'They can fly. They can pass through solid obstacles. They are more like ghosts or spirits than men. They can't be killed by ordinary weapons.'
'The bullet hole we saw puts that myth to rest,' Paul said.
'It would seem so,' Ramirez agreed. 'There is another story, even more intriguing. The tribe is apparently matriarchal. A woman leads it. A goddess, in fact.'
'An Amazon?' Gamay suggested.
In answer, Ramirez pulled an object from his pocket. It was the pendant that had been hanging around the dead man's neck. 'Perhaps this is our winged goddess. It is said she protects her tribe and that her vengeance is terrible.'
'She who must be obeyed,' Gamay said dramatically.
'Pardon?'
Gamay smiled. 'It's a quote from an adventure story I read when I was young. About a jungle goddess who lived for. thou sands of years without aging.'
Paul took the pendant and studied it. 'Goddess or not, she didn't do a very good job of guarding the native we saw.'
The older man's face darkened. 'Yes, but at the same time . . .'
'Is there something wrong?' Gamay said.
'I'm somewhat concerned. One of the village men came to me. He said there were stirrings of trouble in the forest.' 'What kind of trouble?' Paul asked. 'He didn't know. Only that it had to do with the murdered Indian.'
'In what way?' Gamay asked.
'I'm not sure exactly.' He paused. 'Creatures are being killed in this forest at this moment. Insects, animals, and birds are constantly involved in a violent struggle for life. Yet out of this bloody chaos there is an equilibrium.' His deep-set eyes seemed to grow even darker. 'I fear that the killing of the Indian has disturbed this balance.'
'Maybe the Amazon goddess is about to wreak her revenge,' Paul said, handing the medallion back.
Ramirez swung the pendant back and forth on its thong as if he were Svengali using it as a hypnotic device. '~As a man of science, I must deal with the facts. It is a fact that someone out there has a gun and has no hesitation about using it. Either the Indian strayed out of his territory or someone with a gun invaded it.'
'Do you have any thoughts on who this person might be?' Gamay asked.
'Perhaps. Do you know anything about the rubber industry?'
Both Trouts shook their heads.
'A hundred years ago rubber trees grew only in the Amazon jungle. Then a British scientist stole some seeds to start vast rubber plantations in the east. The same thing is happening now. The shaman who accompanied us on our burial detail today is a bit of a fraud when it comes to chasing out evil demons, but he knows the medicinal value of hundreds of rain forest plants. People come here and say they are scientists, but they are really pi rates looking for herbs that have medicinal properties. They sell the patents to multinational drug companies. Sometimes
