“I hope we don’t get caught out here in the rain,” Natalie said. But Mother Nature ignored her wish. Less than five minutes later, it was pouring so hard that some of the huge drops splashed river water into the boat. Jack slowed the engine and allowed the boat to guide itself, while he joined the others under the thatched canopy. To everyone’s pleasant surprise, they stayed completely dry.
As soon as they rounded the headland, they saw Cogo’s pier. Constructed of heavy pressure-treated timber, it was a far cry from the rickety docks at Acalayong. As they got closer, they could see there was a floating portion off the tip.
The first view of Cogo impressed everyone. In contrast with the dilapidated and haphazardly constructed buildings with flat, corrugated metal roofs endemic to Bata and all of Acalayong, Cogo was comprised of attractive, tiled, whitewashed structures reflecting a rich colonial ambiance. To the left and almost hidden by the jungle was a modern power station. Its presence was obvious only because of its improbably tall smokestack.
Jack cut the engine way back as the town approached so they could hear each other speak. Tied along the dock were several pirogues similar to the one they were in, though these others were piled high with fish netting.
“I’m glad to see other boats,” Jack said. “I was afraid our canoe would stand out like a sore thumb.”
“Do you think that large, modern building is the hospital?” Laurie said while pointing.
Jack followed her line of sight. “Yup, at least according to Arturo, and he should know. He was part of the initial building crew out here.”
“I suppose that’s our destination,” Laurie said.
“I’d guess,” Jack said. “At least initially. Arturo said the animal complex is a few miles away in the jungle. We might try to figure out a way to get out there.”
“The town is bigger than I expected,” Warren said.
“I was told it was an abandoned Spanish colonial town,” Jack explained. “Not all of it has been renovated, but from here it sure looks like it has.”
“What did the Spanish do here?” Natalie asked. “It’s nothing but jungle.”
“They grew coffee and cocoa,” Jack said. “At least that’s my understanding. Of course, I don’t have any idea where they grew it.”
“Uh-oh, I see a soldier,” Laurie said.
“I see him, too,” Jack said. His eyes had been searching along the waterfront as they came closer.
The soldier was dressed in the same jungle camouflage fatigues and red beret as the ones at the gate. He was aimlessly pacing a cobblestone square immediately at the base of the pier with an assault rifle slung over his shoulder.
“Does that mean we switch to plan C?” Warren questioned teasingly.
“Not yet,” Jack said. “Obviously, he’s where he is to interdict people coming off the pier. But look at that Chickee Hut built on the beach. If we got in there, we’d be home free.”
“We can’t just run the canoe up onto the beach,” Laurie said. “He’ll see that as well.”
“Look how high that pier is,” Jack said. “What if we were to slip underneath, beach the canoe there and then walk to the Chickee Hut? What do you think?”
“Sounds cool,” Warren said. “But this boat is not going to fit under that pier, no way.”
Jack stood up and made his way over to one of the poles that supported the thatched roof. It disappeared into a hole in the gunwale. Grasping it with both hands, he pulled it up. “How convenient!” he said. “This canoe is a convertible.”
A few minutes later, they had all the poles out, and the thatched roof had been converted to a pile of sticks and dried leaves. They distributed it along both sides under the benches.
“The owner’s not going to be happy about this,” Natalie commented.
Jack angled the boat so that the pier shielded them as much as possible from the line of sight from the square. Jack cut the engine just at the moment they glided into the shade under the pier. Grasping the timbers they guided the boat toward shore, being careful to duck under crossbeams.
The boat scraped up the shady patch of shore and came to a stop.
“So far so good,” Jack said. He encouraged the women and Warren to get out. Then, with Warren pulling and Jack paddling, they got the boat high on the beach.
Jack got out and pointed to a stone wall that ran perpendicular to the base of the pier before disappearing into the gently rising sand of the beach. “Let’s hug the wall. When we clear it, head for the Chickee Bar.”
A few minutes later, they were in the bar. The soldier had not paid them any heed. Either he didn’t see them or he didn’t care.
The bar was deserted except for a black man carefully cutting up lemons and limes. Jack motioned toward the stools and suggested a celebratory drink. Everyone was happy to comply. It had been hot in the canoe after the sun came out and especially after the canopy had come down.
The bartender came over immediately. His name tag identified him as Saturnino. In contradiction to his name, he was a jovial fellow. He was wearing a wild print shirt and a pillbox hat similar to the one Arturo had on when he picked them up at the airport the previous afternoon.
Following Natalie’s lead, everyone had Coke with a slice of lemon.
“Not much business today,” Jack commented to Saturnino.
“Not until after five,” the bartender said. “Then we are very busy.”
“We’re new here,” Jack said. “What money do we use?”
“You can sign,” Saturnino.
Jack looked at Laurie for permission. Laurie shook her head. “We’d rather pay,” he said. “Are dollars okay?”
“What you like,” Saturnino said. “Dollars or CFA. It makes no difference.”
“Where is the hospital?” Jack asked.
Saturnino pointed over his shoulder. “Up the street until you get to the main square. It is the big building on the left.”
“What do they do there?” Jack asked.
Saturnino looked at Jack as if he were crazy. “They take care of people.”
“Do people come from America just to go to the hospital?” Jack asked.
Saturnino shrugged. “I don’t know about that,” he said. He took the bills Jack had put on the bar and turned to the cash register.
“Nice try,” Laurie whispered.
“It would have been too easy,” Jack agreed.
Refreshed after their cold drinks, the group headed out into the sunlight. They passed within fifty feet of the soldier who continued to ignore them. After a short walk up a hot cobblestone street, they came to a small green surrounded by plantation-style homes.
“It reminds me of some of the Caribbean Islands,” Laurie said.
Five minutes later, they entered the tree-lined town square. The group of soldiers lolling in front of the town hall diagonally across from where they were standing spoiled the otherwise idyllic tableau.
“Whoa,” Jack said. “There’s a whole battalion.”
“I thought you said that if there were soldiers at the gate they wouldn’t have to have any in the town,” Laurie said.
“I’ve been proved wrong,” Jack acknowledged. “But there’s no need to go over and announce ourselves. This is the hospital lab complex in front of us.”
From the corner of the square, the building appeared to take up most of a Cogo city block. There was an entrance facing the square, but there was also one down the side street to their left. To avoid remaining in view of the lounging soldiers, they went to the side entrance.
“What are you going to say if we’re questioned?” Laurie asked with some concern. “And walking into a hospital, you know it’s bound to happen.”
“I’m going to improvise,” Jack said. He yanked the door open and ushered his friends in with an exaggerated bow.
Laurie glanced at Natalie and Warren and rolled her eyes. At least Jack could still be charming even when he was most exasperating.