“Feared, or hoped?” Alena asked, arching an eyebrow.
“You wound me,” Jungling replied. He had perfected the face of diplomacy, the one that said, I’m just being polite and I don’t care if you know it.
Alena smiled. “You’ll be happy to know that I expect to return to the States tomorrow. If you’ll keep me apprised of any new developments, my superiors and I will be grateful, but otherwise I suspect I’ve got what I need to make my report.”
Jungling’s face twitched. “We’ll be sorry to see you go.”
They fell into step side by side, walking back toward the camp’s central lab.
“It’s quite a remarkable thing, isn’t it?” he said.
“It is. Over the years I have been called in to examine or investigate dozens of claims of supposed ‘lost world’ discoveries, but this is among the most unique. Do you really think the five-million-year estimate is accurate?”
To her surprise, the question did not seem to offend him. Jungling must have been even happier at the prospect of her departure than she had expected.
“There is room for error, of course,” Jungling admitted, “but if we’re off a few hundred thousand years in either direction, what difference does it make? An ecosystem closed off from the rest of the world, evolving on its own over the course of millions of years. There’s never been anything like it.”
Alena cocked her head. “Surely that’s not true. There must be others. Now that this one has been discovered, we must allow for the probability that there could be an untold number of such caverns that remain undetected in the planet’s womb, each with its own unique properties.”
Jungling nodded in contemplation. “Of course.”
Silence followed for half a dozen steps as they both considered the implications. The walls of the cave were covered by gray-white mats of fungi, which in turn were home to a unique bacteria that processed water, carbon dioxide, and hydrogen sulfide to produce food for many of the cave’s troglobite species. Granted, the venom of the water scorpion — a deadly poison that had cost two members of the initial Croatian exploratory team their lives — could be of interest to her employers, but Alena felt the cave’s bacteria presented far more avenues for inquiry. Crossbred to exist elsewhere, what else might be engineered to survive on the sustenance provided by that bacteria?
She wondered if her employers would want the secrets of the cave explored, or destroyed. Fortunately, the latter was not often a part of her job.
“I’m afraid we must part ways here,” Jungling said, though he did not seem at all regretful. “I have a meeting.”
“Of course,” she said, holding out a hand. “Until next time.”
One corner of Jungling’s mouth rose in the ghost of a smile as he shook her hand, but he did not release his grip.
“Dr. Boudreau … Alena … who do you really work for?”
She squeezed his hand a little, gave it a shake. “Is your memory failing, Martin? The National Science Foundation—”
Jungling released her hand. “I have friends at the NSF. They’ve all heard of you, but none of them have ever met you.”
“I’m not in the office much. Anyway, you’ve seen my credentials.”
“American government credentials—”
“And the NSF is part of the government.”
“Yes. It’s just that I’m not sure it is the part you work for.”
Alena gave a light shake of her head. “You’re a strange man. Au revoir, Martin.”
She strode away, following the path that would take her to the main lab. There were files she wanted copies of before she could return home. As she walked, she knew that Jungling watched her go, his attention entirely different from that of the Austrian medic. The Austrian had been intrigued by her, and the Belgian intimidated.
Alena could not decide which reaction pleased her more.
21
Angie stood on the embarkation deck, one hand on the curved arm of a small crane to keep herself from falling as she bent to look down into the water. The lifeboat rocked and bobbed on the waves. She watched the chief mate and the cook grab hold of the cables and get them hooked up, ready to haul the lifeboat back on board. In the moonlight, Dwyer’s red hair looked like rust with hints of gold. While they’d been gone, Angie had had the unsettling realization that she had grown quite attached to Dwyer. It pissed her off.
“You bend over any farther, I’ll consider it an invitation,” Hank Boggs murmured, much too close to her ear. His breath felt warm.
“Back off before I chuck you overboard.”
Boggs’s chuffing laughter made her want to puke. There were four other guys on the embarkation deck — two assistant engineers and a pair of able-bodied seamen. They were more loyal to the Rio brothers than to the chief engineer, but one of the engineers, an eternal sidekick named Tupper, smirked knowingly every time Boggs made a piggish comment or tried brushing against her tits while they were working. They were cut from the same cloth, those two, except that Tupper didn’t have the balls to make a move on her.
“Maybe we should just leave Dwyer down there, huh?” Boggs murmured, still in close. She caught a whiff of whiskey on his breath before the Caribbean breeze swirled it away. “Drag him behind the ship, a kiddie ride for your little boy.”
Angie sighed, closing her eyes.
Boggs misinterpreted. “You know you’re gonna give it up eventually.”
It was the laugh that pushed her over the edge, a soft, suggestive chuckle, like they were already lovers. Like he knew her.
Angie turned, right hand already whipping up. She backhanded him across the face, knuckles slapping his flesh with a satisfying whack. Boggs jerked back, face screwing up in fury, bald pate flushing, but Angie wasn’t done. She followed through, matching his step back with her own forward motion, and jabbed his throat with her outstretched fingers.
His eyes went wide and he staggered back.
“Hey!” Tupper shouted, starting for her.
Angie spun on him, pointed a finger. “Just try. Go on.”
Tupper hesitated, glancing around at the other three guys but getting no support. The two deckhands weren’t going to even pretend they were interested, and the other engineer — Valente — just gave Tupper a disgusted look.
“He had it coming,” Angie said.
Boggs had both hands on his throat. His eyes were full of rage but he kept a wary distance. “You fucking bitch. I’ll have you off this boat.”
“Answer to my prayers,” Angie said. “But we’ll see who goes first.”
Then the chief mate started shouting from below. They were all set to come aboard. Boggs gave her a last, dangerous glance, then gestured to Tupper and Valente, who checked the cables that ran down the side of the ship from the twin cranes. The lines clear, Valente toggled the control and the cranes started to whine as the cables were reeled in, lifting the lifeboat out of the water.
“Captain on deck!” one of the hands snapped.
Angie turned to see Captain Rio striding toward them out of the darker shadows of the accommodations block. They were at the rearmost lifeboat on the starboard side, but other members of the crew could easily have seen them working if they happened to be out on the metal walkways on the starboard side of the tower. This late at night, the only people still up and around were likely to be the men on watch, one of whom would be up in the wheelhouse, and the other of whom was one of the deckhands down here with them.
Not that it really mattered. Nobody on this tub really believed they had clean hands. They might not know what the special cargo would be, but nearly every journey included at least one unscheduled stop. Most of the crew knew better than to ask questions. If they didn’t ask, they wouldn’t have to get answers they really didn’t want to hear.