water was working. Downstream, bodies floated to the surface, but the current was rapidly carrying them away. The narrow streambed behind them was empty of bodies and could not be trusted. The current, as swift as it was, had surely swept the powdered poison away from here and down the length of the stream. It was not safe. They needed to backtrack along the trailing toxin in the water and seek a secure place to cross, where the current was more sluggish, somewhere where the poison was still active-but between them and safety lay a small legion of the creatures, entrenched in the forest, blocking their way.
'Ready,' Camera said, standing.
She hauled her handiwork from the jungle floor and tightened the canister's lid, leaving a primer cord draping from it. The tank contained only a bit of fuel, not enough to service the weapon, but enough for their purposes. At least he hoped.
Nate held his position with his shotgun. 'Are you sure this will work?'
'It had better.'
Her words were not exactly the vote of confidence Nate was seeking.
'Point out the target again;' she said, moving beside him.
He shifted his shotgun's muzzle and pointed at the gray-barked tree about thirty yards downstream.
'Okay.' Camera lit the end of the primer cord with a butane lighter. 'Get ready:' She swung her arm back and, using all the strength in her body, lobbed the canister underhanded.
Nate held his breath. It arced end-over-end-and landed at the foot o. the targeted tree.
'All those years of women's softball finally paid off,' Camera mumbled, then to Nate: 'Get down!'
Both dropped to the leafy floor. Nate fell, keeping his shotgun pointed ahead of him. And he was lucky he did. One of the creatures leaped from a bush, landing inches from his nose. Nate rolled and batted it away with the stock of his shotgun. He rolled back to his belly and glanced to the Ranger beside him. 'Varsity baseball,' he mumbled. 'Senior year.
'Down!' Camera reached and smashed his head to the dirt.
The explosion was deafening, shrapnel ripped through the canopy overhead. Nate glanced over. Camera's trick had indeed worked. She had transformed the near-empty fuel tank into a large Molotov cocktail. Flames lit the night.
Camera got to her knees. 'What about-?'
Now it was Nate's turn to tug her down.
The second explosion sounded like a lightning strike: splintering wood accompanied by a low boom. The nearby jungle was shredded apart, followed by a rain of flaming copal resin.
'Damn it!' Camera swore. Her sleeve was on fire. She patted it out in the loam.
Nate stood, relieved to see that the plan had worked. The tree, their target, was now just a blasted wreck, bluish flames dancing atop the stump. As Nate expected, the sap, rich in hydrocarbons, had acted as fuel, causing the makeshift Molotov cocktail to turn the tree into a natural bomb, and torch the entire riverbank as well.
'C'mon!' Nate called, bounding up with Camera.
Together, they ran along the flaming and shredded section of the forest, paralleling the stream until they overtook the poison trailing through the water. Bodies of the creatures and other fish filled the channel.
'This way!' Nate ran into the river, half swimming, half clawing his way across. Camera followed.
In no time, they were scrambling up the far bank.
'We did it!' the Ranger said with a laugh.
Nate sighed. Off in the distance, he spotted the shine of the others' flashlights. The team had made it across, too. 'Let's go see if everyone else is okay.'
They helped each other up and stumbled away from the stream, aiming for the other camp.
When they marched out of the forest, a cheer went up. 'Way to go, Camera,' Kostos said, a true smile on his lips.
Nate's greeting was no less earnest. As soon as he arrived, Kelly threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. 'You made it,' she mumbled in his ear. 'You did it:'
'And not a minute too soon,' Nate said with a nod.
Frank patted him on the back.
'Well done, Dr. Rand,' Captain Waxman said stoically, and turned to organize his troops. No one wanted to remain this close to the stream, poisoned or not.
Kelly dropped her arms, but not before planting a soft kiss on his cheek. 'Thanks . . . thanks for saving us. And thanks for returning safely'
She swung away, leaving Nate somewhat bewildered.
Camera nudged him with an elbow and rolled her eyes. 'Looks like someone made a friend:'
10:02 A. M.
AMAZON JUNGLE
Louis stood in the center of the blasted region near the river's edge. He could still smell the acrid tang of napalm in the air. Behind him, his team was offloading the canoes and loading up backpacks. From here, the journey would be on foot.
With the dawn, clouds had rolled in, and a steady drizzle fell from the sky, dousing the few fires that still smoldered. A smoky mist clung to the dead pocket of jungle, ghostly white and thick.
Off to the side, his mistress wandered around the site, a wounded expression on her face, as if the damage to the forest were a personal injury. She slowly circled a pole planted in the ground with a speared creature impaled on it. It was one of the strange beasts that had attacked the other group. Louis had never seen anything of its ilk before. And from Tshui's expression, neither had she. Tshui eyed the beast, cocking her head like a bird studying a worm.
Jacques stepped up behind Louis. 'You have a radio call . . . on your coded frequency.'
'Finally,' he sighed.
Earlier, just before dawn, one of his two scouts had returned, badly frightened and wild-eyed. He had reported that his partner, a squat Colombian who went by the name of Toady, had been attacked by one of these beasts and died horribly. Malachim had barely made it back alive. Unfortunately, the man's report of the other team's whereabouts was thready at best. It seemed the Rangers' group, chased across a tributary stream, had fled these same beasts, and were now heading in a southwesterly direction. But toward where?
Louis had a way of finding out. He accepted the radio from Jacques. It was a direct link to a tiny scrambled transmitter held by a member of the opposing team, a little mole planted under the Rangers' noses at significant expense.
'Thank you, Jacques.' Radio in hand, Louis stepped a few yards away. He had already had one previous call this morning, from his financiers, St. Savin Pharmaceuticals in France. It seemed some disease was spreading across the Amazon and the United States, something associated with the dead man's body. Stakes were now higher. Louis had argued to raise his own fee, on the grounds that his work was now more hazardous. St. Savin had accepted, as he knew they would. A cure to this disease would be worth billions to his employer. What were a few more francs tossed his way?
Louis lifted the radio. 'Favre here:'
'Dr. Favre:' The relief was clear in the other's voice. 'Thank God, I reached you.'
'I've been awaiting your call:' A bit of menace entered Louis's tone. 'I lost a good man last night because someone did not have the foresight to inform us of these venomous little toads:'
There was a long pause. 'I . . . I'm sorry. In all the commotion, I could hardly sneak off and place a call. In fact, this is the first chance I've had to slip away to the latrine alone:'
'Fine. So tell me about this commotion last night.'
'It was horrible:' His spy blathered in his ear for the next three minutes, giving Louis an overview of what happened. 'If it wasn't for Rand's use of some powdered fish toxin, we would all have surely died:'
Louis's fingers gripped the radio tighter at the mention of Rand's
name. The family name alone bristled the small hairs on his neck. 'And where are you all now?'
'We're still heading in a southwesterly direction, searching for Gerald Clark's next marker.'
'Very good:'
'But - '
'What is it?'
