“I’ll try,” Raymond said. “Meanwhile, please locate Kevin Marshall. His disappearance concerns me. I’m afraid he might do something rash.”
“We believe he went to Cocobeach in Gabon,” Siegfried said. He was gratified with the appropriate subservience in Raymond’s voice.
“You’re sure he didn’t go to the island?” Raymond asked.
“We can’t be totally sure,” Siegfried admitted. “But we don’t think so. Even if he did, he wouldn’t be apt to stay there. He would have been back by now. It’s been forty-eight hours.”
Raymond stood up and sighed. “I wish he would turn up. Worrying about him is driving me up the wall, especially with Taylor Cabot here. It’s just something else in a long string of problems going on in New York that have threatened the program and made my life miserable.”
“We’ll continue to search,” Siegfried assured him. He tried to sound sympathetic, but in actuality, he was wondering how Raymond was going to respond when he heard the bonobos were being rounded up to be brought into the animal center. All other problems paled in the face of the animals killing each other.
“I’ll try to think of something to say to Taylor Cabot,” Raymond said as he started for the door. “If you could, I’d appreciate being informed the moment you hear about Kevin Marshall.”
“Certainly,” Siegfried said obligingly. He watched with satisfaction as the previously proud doctor beat a meek retreat. Just as Raymond disappeared from view, Siegfried remembered that Raymond was from New York.
Siegfried dashed to his door, catching Raymond on his way down the stairs.
“Doctor,” Siegfried called out with false deference.
Raymond paused and looked back.
“Do you happen to know a doctor by the name of Jack Stapleton?”
The blood drained from Raymond’s face.
This reaction was not lost on Siegfried. “I think you’d better come back into my office,” the manager said.
Siegfried closed the door behind Raymond who immediately wanted to know how in the world the name “Jack Stapleton” had come up.
Siegfried walked around his desk and sat down. He gestured toward a chair for Raymond. Siegfried was not happy. He’d briefly thought of relating the unexpected request for a site visit by strange doctors to Taylor Cabot. He’d not thought of relating it to Raymond.
“Just before you arrived I got an unusual call from our gate house,” Siegfried said. “The Moroccan guard told me that there was a van full of people who wanted to tour the facility. We’ve never had uninvited visitors before. The van was driven by Dr. Jack Stapleton of New York City.”
Raymond wiped the perspiration that had appeared on his forehead. Then he ran both hands simultaneously through his hair. He kept telling himself that this couldn’t be happening since Vinnie Dominick was supposed to have taken care of Jack Stapleton and Laurie Montgomery. Raymond hadn’t called to find out what had happened to the two; he didn’t really want to know the details. For twenty thousand dollars, details weren’t something he should have to worry about-or so he thought. If pressed, he would have guessed that Stapleton and Montgomery were somewhere floating in the Atlantic Ocean about now.
“Your reaction to this is starting to concern me,” Siegfried said.
“You didn’t let Stapleton and his friends in?” Raymond asked.
“No, of course not,” Siegfried said.
“Maybe you should have,” Raymond said. “Then we could have dealt with them. Jack Stapleton is a very big danger to the program. I mean, is there a way here in the Zone to take care of such people?”
“There is,” Siegfried said. “We just turn them over to the Equatoguinean minister of justice or the minister of defense along with a sizable bonus. Punishment is both discreet and very rapid. The government is eager to ensure that nothing threatens the goose that lays the golden egg. All we need to say is that they are seriously interfering with GenSys operations.”
“Then if they come back, I think you should let them in,” Raymond said.
“Perhaps you should tell me why,” Siegfried said.
“Do you remember Carlo Franconi?” Raymond asked.
“Carlo Franconi the patient?” Siegfried asked.
Raymond nodded.
“Of course,” Siegfried said.
“Well, it started with him,” Raymond said as he began the complicated story.
“You think it is safe?” Laurie asked. She was looking at a huge hollowed-out log canoe with a thatched canopy that was pulled halfway up the beach. On the back was a sizable, beat-up outboard motor. It was leaking fuel as evidenced by an opalescent scum that ringed the stern.
“Reportedly it goes all the way to Gabon twice a day,” Jack said. “That’s farther than Cogo.”
“How much rent did you have to pay?” Natalie asked. It had taken Jack a half hour of negotiations to get it.
“A bit more than I expected,” Jack said. “Apparently, some people rented one a couple of days ago, and it hasn’t been seen since. That episode has driven the rental price up, I’m afraid.”
“More than a hundred or less?” Warren asked. He, too, wasn’t impressed with the craft’s apparent seaworthiness. “Because if it was more than a C note you got took.”
“Well, let’s not quibble,” Jack said. “In fact, let’s get the show on the road unless you guys want to back out.”
There was a moment of silence while the group eyed each other.
“I’m not a great swimmer,” Warren admitted.
“I can assure you that we are not planning on going into the water,” Jack said.
“All right,” Warren said. “Let’s go.”
“You ladies concur?” Jack asked.
Both Laurie and Natalie nodded without a lot of enthusiasm. At the moment, the noonday sun was enervating. Despite being on the shore of the estuary, there was not a breath of air.
With the women positioned in the stern to help lift the bow, Jack and Warren pushed the heavy pirogue off the shore and jumped in one after the other. Everyone helped paddle out about fifty feet. Jack attended to the motor, compressing the small hand pump on top of the red fuel tank. He’d had a boat as a child on a lake in the Midwest and had a lot of experience fussing with an outboard.
“This canoe is a lot more stable than it looks,” Laurie said. Even with Jack moving around in the stern it was barely rocking.
“And no leaks,” Natalie said. “That was my concern.”
Warren stayed silent. He had a white knuckle grip on the gunwale.
To Jack’s surprise, the engine started after only two pulls. A moment later, they were off, motoring almost due east. After the oppressive heat the breeze felt good.
The drive to Acalayong had been accomplished quicker than they’d anticipated, even though the road deteriorated in comparison to the road north of the Cogo turnoff. There was no traffic save for an occasional northward-bound van inconceivably packed with passengers. Even the luggage racks on the tops had two or three people holding on for dear life.
Acalayong had brought smiles to everyone’s face. It was indicated as a city on the map but turned out to consist of no more than a handful of tawdry concrete shops, bars, and a few hotels. There was a cement-block police post with several men in dirty uniforms sprawled in rattan chairs in the shade of the porch. They’d eyed Jack and the others with soporific disdain as the van had passed by.
Although they had found the town comically honky-tonk and litter strewn, they’d been able to get something to eat and drink as well as procure the boat. With some unease, they’d parked the van in sight of the police station, hoping it would be there on their return.
“How long did you estimate it would take us?” Laurie shouted over the noise of the outboard. It was particularly loud because a portion of its cowling was missing.
“An hour,” Jack yelled back. “But the boat owner told me it would be more like twenty minutes. It’s apparently just around the headland directly ahead.”
At that moment, they were crossing the two-mile-wide mouth of Rio Congue. The jungle-covered shorelines were hazy with mist. Thunderheads loomed above; two thunderstorms had hit while they’d been in the van.