It was a financial free-for-all.
And Louis Favre was about to join the game, championed by a French pharmaceutical company. Smiling, he stood up. He had been delighted when he heard about Carl Rand's disappearance four years ago. He had gotten drunk that night, toasting the man's misfortune. Now he would pound the final nail in the bastard's coffin by stealing whatever the man had discovered and laying more lives upon his grave.
Unlocking the salon's door, Louis stepped out.
"I hope everything was satisfactory, Dr. Favre," the concierge called politely from his desk.
"Most satisfactory, Claude," he said with a nod. "Most satisfactory indeed:" Louis crossed to the hotel's small elevator, an antique cell of wrought iron and wood. 1t hardly fit two people. He pressed the button r the sixth floor, where his apartment suite lay. He was anxious to share the news.
The elevator clanked, groaned, and sighed its way up to his floor. Once the door was open, Louis hurried down the narrow hall to the farthest room. Like a handful of other guests who had taken up permanent residence in the Hotel Seine, Louis had a suite of rooms: two bedrooms, a cramped kitchen, a broad sitting room with doors that opened upon a wrought-iron balcony, and even a small study lined with bookshelves. The suite was not elaborate, but it suited his needs.
The staff was discreet and well accustomed to the eccentricities of the guests.
Louis keyed open his door and pushed inside. Two things struck him immediately. First, a familiar and arousing scent filled the room. It came from a pot on the small gas stovetop, boiling ayahuasca leaves that produced the powerful hallucinogenic tea, natem.
Second, he heard the whine of the fax machine coming from the study. His new employers were certainly efficient.
"Tshui!" he called out.
He expected no answer, but as was customary among the Shuar tribespeople, one always announced one's presence when entering a dwelling. He noticed the door to the bedroom slightly ajar.
With a smile, he crossed to the study and watched another sheet of paper roll from the machine and fall to the growing stack. The details of the upcoming mission. "Tshui, I have marvelous news:"
Louis retrieved the topmost printout from the faxed pile and glanced at it. It was a list of those who would comprise the U.S. search team.
10:45 P.m. UPDATE from Base Station Alpha
I. Op. AMAZONIA: Civilian Unit Members
(1) Kelly O'Brien, M.D.-MEDEA
(2) Francis J. O'Brien-Environmental Center, CIA
(3) Olin Pasternak-Science and Technology Directorate, CIA
(4) Richard Zane, Ph.D.-Tellux Pharmaceutical research head
(5) Anna Fong, Ph.D.-Tellux Pharmaceutical employee
II. Op. AMAZONIA: Mil. Support: 75th Army Ranger Unit
CAPTAIN: Craig Waxman
STAFF SERGEANT: Alberto Kostos
CORPORALS: Brian Conger, James DeMartini, Rodney Graves, Thomas Graves, Dennis Jorgensen, Kenneth Okamoto, Nolan Warczak a Samad Yamir
III. Op. AMAZONIA: Locally Recruited
(1) Manuel Azevedo-FUNAI, Brazilian national
(2) Resh Kouwe, Ph.D.-FUNAI, Indigenous Peoples Representative
(3) Nathan Rand, Ph.D.-Ethnobotanist, U.S. citizen
Louis almost missed the last name on the list. He gripped the faxed printout tighter. Nathan Rand, the son of Carl Rand. Of course, it made sense. The boy would not let this team search for his father without accompanying them. He closed his eyes, savoring this boon. It was as if the gods of the dark jungle were aligning in his favor. The revenge he had failed to mete upon the father would fall upon the shoulders of the son. It was almost biblical.
As he stood there, he heard a slight rustle coming from the next room, the master bedroom. He let the paper slip from his fingers back to the pile. He would have time later to review the details and formulate a plan. Right now, he simply wanted to enjoy the serendipity of the moment.
"Tshui!" he called again and crossed to the bedroom door.
He slipped the door open and found the room beyond lit with candles and a single incense burner. His mistress lay naked on the canopy bed. The queen-sized bed was draped in white silk with its mosquito net folded back. The Shuar woman reclined upon pillows atop the ivory sheets. Her deep-bronze skin glowed in the candlelight. Her long black hair was a fan around her, while her eyes were heavy-lidded from both passion and natem tea. Two cups lay on the small nightstand, one empty, the other full.
As usual, Louis found his breath simply stolen from him at the sight of his love. He had first met the beauty three years ago in Ecuador. She had been the wife of a Shuar chieftain, until the fool's infidelity had enraged her. She slew him with his own machete. Though such acts-both the infidelity and the murder-were common among the brutal Shuar, Tshui was banished from the tribe, sent naked into the jungle. None, not even the
chieftain's kinsmen, would dare touch her. She was well known through-out the region as one of the rare female shamans, a practitioner of wawek,