“Precisely.”
“Copy that. Before I go, how’s my girl?”
“Huh?”
“Keiko.”
The Oracle laughed. “She’s doing fine. Just a little miffed that she missed you when you were here.”
Keiko was the world’s most advanced humanoid. Created by Ian Higgs, the father of Amanda Higgs, Keiko incorporated technology that was a generation ahead of its time. She had the appearance of an Asian woman in her thirties and could move, speak, and think in a way that blurred the lines between humans and machines.
Her brief history read like the plot of a thriller novel. After Higgs was murdered on the streets of London, the robot remained in the possession of the deceased man’s employer, the Renaissance Group, a multinational conglomerate led by the Russian billionaire Alexander Mironov.
When a Delphi team led by Zane Watson and Carmen Petrosino had begun working against Renaissance, Keiko changed sides, assisting the Americans in thwarting Mironov’s plans to commandeer the CERN particle physics laboratory in eastern France. Although difficult to understand, the switch seemed to have been the result of ethics programming by Ian Higgs.
During the events at CERN, Keiko had triggered a self-destruct explosive that took out members of the Renaissance team, including Mironov. After the fighting was over, Delphi took possession of the humanoid’s remains, transporting her back to the United States. There, a team led by Brett Foster restored the robot to her former state.
“Please tell her I’m sorry,” Zane said, remembering that the humanoid had been taken down for programming when he was there. “It was just bad timing. Tell her she’ll be my top priority next time.” There was loud clap of thunder, this time closer. “Look, Ross, I’ve got to go. The storm is right on our heels.”
“Copy that.”
“I’ll be back in touch tonight if anything comes up. Otherwise, let’s talk tomorrow morning.”
After ending the call, Zane saw that Jorge had stopped to wait for him just ahead. The Brazilian lit the tip of a cigar, puffing until he was shrouded in smoke. “Did I hear you say they have some information about our target?”
“Someone has big ears.”
“Those big ears keep me alive in the jungle, senhor,” Jorge said with a wink.
“Regarding your question, they don’t have anything yet. They picked up something on satellite imagery but won’t have any details until tomorrow.” Zane pulled a canteen from his pack and took a long swig. “Ross didn’t sound overly concerned about the boot print.”
Jorge shrugged. “Maybe he’s right. No one can say for sure. Then again, who would’ve been out here with the storms we’ve had over the last two days? The biologists would likely stay on their boats until the weather clears.” He took a draw on his cigar then said, “Something just seems a little unusual about it.”
Zane was about to reply when a voice squawked out of his pants. “Sir, are you there?”
Zane pulled the radio out of his pocket. “Go ahead, Bennett.”
“I’m at the stream. I think you may want to see this.”
“We’ll be right there.”
As Zane and Jorge quickened their pace, Zane wondered what the Green Beret had found. He sounded concerned, but at the same time, his voice didn’t convey that he was in any sort of immediate danger.
A minute later, they rounded a bend and entered a clearing. Bennett was crouched on the far side by the stream, facing the other direction. Maybe he found some footprints along the bank, Zane thought.
Bennett looked up at them. “You did say there was supposed to be a bridge here, didn’t you?”
Jorge pulled to a stop, a look of shock forming on his face.
Zane knew from their discussions that there was supposed to be a rope-and-wood bridge here. In fact, Jorge had spoken to a man who passed through the area regularly, and he said it had still been in place just a month ago.
“Yes,” Jorge whispered.
Zane stepped closer to the bank and looked up and down the stream. Seeing nothing, he turned toward Jorge. “Could we be in the wrong place?”
Jorge shook his head. “There is only one trail, and we are on it. I even saw some landmarks I recognized along the way.”
Zane nodded.
Suddenly the Brazilian’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at a clump of ferns along the bank. He walked over and pulled some of the fronds back. “Just what I thought.”
Zane came and stood next to him. There, on the other side of the plants, were two posts with holes in the top. “I take it that was a part of the bridge?”
Jorge nodded but remained silent. He leaned forward and examined the wood more closely.
Zane looked out across the coffee-colored water of the stream. There was no sign of the bridge. No ropes, no boards. Nothing. As he drew his gaze back to the shore, he fixed his eyes on a slight impression in the soft sand at the water’s edge. He frowned. Moving past the posts, he jumped down onto the spit. He bent over and examined the lines closely. They looked like prints of some kind, but the moisture in the sand had already begun to smooth them out.
“You see something?” Bennett asked.
“Who knows?” he replied, standing. For now, he was going to keep the prior discovery of the footprint from the others. “Just looking for something that might tell us what happened.”
“One thing I can tell you is that it didn’t just fall,” Jorge said.
“Even with the storms we just had?”
“No, it was designed to rise with the waters. Some conservation group is responsible for its upkeep.”
Zane stepped back up onto the bank. “And you just had a contact verify that it was still in place a few weeks ago.”
Jorge nodded.
“Is there another way across?” Bennett asked. “Maybe we could try downstream.”
Jorge looked in both directions. “We probably need to cross here. The water shouldn’t be too deep.”
A voice spoke from behind them. “I think that’s a dumb idea.”
Zane turned and saw Max and Katiya approaching. The others were spilling out into the clearing just behind them.
“You don’t expect us to cross through that filth, do you?” Max asked.
“Max.” Katiya shot him a look.
“Fine, knock yourself out,” Zane said, removing a hatchet from his belt. He threw it toward the linguist hilt first. Max jumped but was able to catch it.
Max glared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“You want to find another bridge then be my guest.” He pointed toward the tangle of vegetation along their side of the stream. “You can start hacking in either direction. Should only take you a day or two to find something better.”
“What’s going on?” Amanda asked as she neared the group. She stopped when she realized there was no bridge. “Oops.”
Zane looked at Jorge. “How deep is it?”
“Not very. Waist high, at most.”
Zane nodded. “Not bad.”
Artur nodded toward the water. “I’ve crossed many streams this size. As long as the bottom isn’t slippery, we should be able to cross.”
Max shook his head and mumbled something.
Zane picked up a small limb, hopped back down to the spit of sand, and plunged the stick into the water. When the tip reached the bottom, he felt a layer of mud. Pressing, he found solid ground about an inch down. “It’s not too bad. We’re just going to have to take our time.” He nodded at Jorge. “The two of us will enter first. Once we’re in the water, we’ll let you know if there are any issues.”
“Let’s do it,” Brett finally said.
Zane examined the others’ faces. With the exception of Max, most seemed to be fine with crossing.