Lab Notes: a novel (24 page)

She trudged up to the hut. Hungry, but not trusting tribal food, she reached into her gown for the remainder of the bilberries she had harvested on the way up the mountain.

She retrieved the berries. Then, in the corner of the woven pocket, she felt something oblong and spiny. Puzzled, she gingerly wrapped her fingers around it and pulled it out. Opening her hand, she gaped at a four-inch spike of aloe.

μ CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT μ

Today, the President for Life,
Carabina,
did not need to touch his gavel to the table to call the men to order; they had been sitting silently, staring at the wine cellar’s ancient walls since their arrival.

First,
Espalda,
the Record Keeper, stood and took roll. Then
Carabina
called on
Novicio
to give his special report, which outlined the Knights’ efforts to halt the deforestation of millions of acres of rainforest. This unnatural disaster was being propagated by drug traffickers and peasants in their employ to provide fields for cultivating coca and poppy crops.

The President for Life did not, however, hear
Novicio’s
litany of successes and failures. His mind had moved on to the second point on the agenda—the real reason why this special meeting had been called.

Suddenly
Carabina
realized the cellars had gone silent. He looked up. The group was waiting.

With a wave of his hand, he signaled that
Espalda
should move on to the second point.

Espalda
reported that after the unanimous vote at the last regular meeting, officials guilty of narcocorruption at every level of government were sent warnings. All had taken corrective action—except two of them. One had been dealt with. One remained.

The group voted to take further action.

Novicio
jumped up and respectfully moved that he receive the Sword of Damocles, even knowing that it would go against convention.

Caballo
stood to second the motion, but
Carabina
quickly rose to his feet and rapped the gnarled gavel on the table. “Our traditions will not be subverted by expediency,” he stated firmly.

Espalda
bowed solemnly and placed the Sword of Damocles in
Carabina’s
hands.

μ CHAPTER THIRTY NINE μ

Diane peered through the small window hoping to spot a passerby and somehow signal that she was being held against her will, though she suspected there was a sentry posted outside to discourage any good Samaritans.

She slid back in her seat and pondered how foolhardy she had been. Or maybe it had been exhaustion that allowed her to drop her guard once she was off the mountain. After days spent doing nothing but eating and sleeping at the Kogi village, she had been physically de-conditioned, totally unprepared for the hurried trek from stratosphere to near sea level in five days—mostly on foot, but often on her butt in cascading mud.

The descent through hell began shortly after she had confronted Olimpia with the piece of aloe vera from her gown pocket—proof-positive that Carlos Carrera was not a hallucination. He had approached her in the cloud forest, mockingly tossed the aloe, then abandoned her to die in the jungle.

One glance at the spiny plant and Olimpia had launched into frenzied preparations to leave the mountain.

News of Diane’s encounter with the warrior hunter whipped the eminently placid Kogi into an extremely agitated state. The tribe lamented that the great mountain had become angry, and soon someone would die. In Yami’s absence, the Kogi made no effort to conceal their wish that Diane and Olimpia leave the village—immediately.

Their downhill trek was doomed from the outset. They were three days early for their return helicopter ride. But even if their descent had been timely, they had to circumvent the landing site in the “Lost City” where the hunters would be returning their horses and meeting their own helicopters. That forced Diane and Olimpia and their Kogi guides to take a more challenging route with several waist-deep whitewater crossings through the domain of the guerrilla. Unrelenting rain, water snakes and mudslides were mere annoyances compared to Diane’s fear of being taken by
bandidos
.

They spent the first night in an abandoned jungle hut with a sieve for a roof. Early on the second evening, they stopped at a cave hung with a million bats and crawling with scorpions. The cave was dry, however, and it provided a fitting environment for Olimpia to reveal the rest of her story.

She leaned wearily against a stone near the cave’s entrance and, accompanied by nocturnal voices from the wilderness, she began:

“I know you wonder why I have been lying about my identity in Santa Marta all these years. It is because I wanted to make sure I would not be tracked. I wanted to protect the Kogi and my son from people who might want to follow Olimpia Garza—pharmaceutical spies, my family and so forth.

“As for the hunters: For years I thought their visits to the mountain were random. I did not know their timetable, and I was ignorant as to their identities. But when my son turned eight years old, I learned those things in the most painful way imaginable.

“For his eighth birthday, I brought Eduardo to the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta to visit his
Tia Yami
. The hunters rode into the high valley two days after we arrived at the Kogi village.

“Yami warned me to keep Eduardo close while she and the priestesses descended to the cloud forest for three days. I did not take heed, and when I awoke the second morning, Eduardo had gone in search of his
Tia
.

“Yami returned from the high valley to report that hunters had taken Eduardo. She said that I should return home and they would get in touch with me. They warned her that I should not contact the authorities. She told me I must heed the hunters more closely than I had heeded her. My life and Eduardo’s were at stake.

“After a month in hell waiting for the kidnappers’ demands, I was stunned to hear Carlos Carrera’s voice on the other end of my telephone saying that he had my son. I had never met the man. I only knew him by media reports of his wealth.

“Carlos had encountered my son on the trail, much the same as he did you, Diane. But when he looked at Eduardo, he saw the face of his dead son—green eyes, cowlick and all. Immediately, Carlos knew Eduardo was his grandson. And his lineage was confirmed when he asked Eduardo his name.

“Of course he was not interested in a ransom. He assured me he was not punishing me; he did not hold me responsible for the death of his son years ago. But he wanted to keep Eduardo with him for awhile.

“Dumbstruck, I listened while Carlos reported on Eduardo’s activities as if he were merely away at summer camp. He ended the conversation by telling me that my son was enjoying himself at his ancestral home, but now he would like to see his mother. ‘A boy needs to connect with his heritage, but he also needs his mother,’ he said.

“In order to see my son, I had to visit him at the Carrera mansion. Eduardo was content there. He sensed that we would both be safer if he stayed connected to his grandfather. At first I feared he had been brainwashed. But then I remembered that he was bred in the wilderness and had trained for the Kogi priesthood; he saw things that most did not. I agreed with the living arrangement.”

Olimpia took a weary breath, then went on: “Two years later, I was visiting with Eduardo when Carlos invited me into his study. He told me that Eduardo had learned what was expected of him as a Carrera. So now he could come to live with his mother. But first, he said, a deal must be struck.

“He then informed me that Gabriel refused to recognize Eduardo as his son legally. It was not that he felt threatened that he would lose his inheritance to Eduardo. Gabriel has his own money—outside of Carrera Industries.

“With a sizable inheritance from his mother—and it is rumored there were other sources also—Gabriel started an investment fund that has made him quite wealthy in his own right.

“No, it was not about money. The reason Gabriel would not recognize his son was because he still harbored ill-will toward me. Carlos said that Gabriel was not a forgiving man.

“Therefore, he, Carlos Carrera, wished to adopt Eduardo to legitimize his claim to the Carrera empire. He also wanted my vow of silence regarding his secret hunting camp on the mountain and the circumstances of Eduardo’s conception. I pledged my life and that of my son. What choice did I have?

“After we shook hands, Carlos presented me with a mansion in Bogota and the villa on Aruba that he had purchased for Eduardo and me.

“From that day forward, I would live in safety and luxury. But the Carreras owned me and, more so, my son—despite my efforts to pull his affections away from them.

“Never believe you can turn one Carrera against the other. No matter the contention between them; Carlos, Gabriel and Eduardo are inextricably bound together by their polypeptide chains. DNA is the strongest bond in the universe—but particularly here in Latin America.

“So, you see, when Gabriel requested that I move to the States to set up the ethnobotany program at BRI or else find him another botanist, it was actually a command. Giving him your name seemed like the perfect answer back then.

“That day I phoned you from Houston, I had been to the Texas Medical Center there—nothing serious, just some tests—and I stopped by BRI for a tour. I found the physical set up quite nice. But the building had a malevolent aura.

“I knew BRI had contacted you, so I called you to warn you off of them. But you did not answer. Then later at a meeting with Gabriel, he told me that after vetting your credentials, he decided that he
had
to have you at BRI. I told him I would try to influence your decision. But of course I was lying. I had no intention of intervening for him. After that I spent a lot of time praying that you would not accept the position.”

Olimpia walked over, sat on a rock beside Diane and looked her in the eye. “Through my relationship with the Kogi, I have developed a deep sense about people and places. For example, I have known of your distrust and fear of me since your phone call when you were fleeing Carrera Island”

Diane reached over and touched her friend’s arm. “Olimpia, I am so sorry—”

“No need to apologize. In fact, you should have been wary of me years sooner. You were still a child when you became the subject of my ill-thought-out experiment with mind-bending tree lichen. As a result, you bonded to me like a duckling to its mother. I had to be very careful not to plant the wrong ideas into your suggestible mind. But now Yami has freed you from any influence I might have had over you. Your future is your own.”

Then she added in a quivering voice: “I was certain that the hunters were not due for another month, or I never would have brought you here. I am so sorry. I have made things worse and worse for you.”

She gripped Diane’s hand as if to underscore her next words. “The hunting club is much more than it seems. They kill to guard their identity. My vow of silence and Eduardo as my collateral are the only reasons I am still alive. I am quite concerned for
your
safety though.”

The clanking of the metal stairs outside startled Diane from her thoughts. She glimpsed out the small window, then turned toward the door. Had the “
Padrone”
arrived?

Two of his bearded henchmen had grabbed her in a small village in the foothills where she and Olimpia had stopped earlier that morning to clean up at a barrel of rainwater after they had parted ways with their Kogi guides.

The men pulled up in a red 1960’s Chevy truck, snatched her from amidst a group of curious children, and forced her into the cab, wedged between them. As the truck skidded onto the muddy road, Diane could hear Olimpia screaming after them.

Diane’s greatest fear had materialized. Overwhelmed with terror, her mind clicked through the possibilities ahead: a forced jungle march, months (maybe years) as a hostage, torture, rape, childbearing in the wilderness, death by various, horrible means.

Assuming she knew no Spanish, the man on the passenger side, the friendlier of the two, attempted to calm her with a few words of English: “City. Safe. Food.”

Then the driver spoke to the other man in Spanish. “You want to pull off the road and have a piece of those juicy loins?”

The other, who seemed to be in charge, replied: “The
Padrone
would have your
cajones
; he ordered fresh meat.”

Once they arrived at their destination, she was turned over to two less-brutish men who provided her with a clean shirt and shorts and permitted her the use of the small bathroom. Then she had been served a light lunch and ordered to stay put.

Now, after being held prisoner for two hours, she heard footsteps on the metal stairs. Then the door swung open and he entered.

“Diana,” Gabriel said softly as he moved down the aisle of his plane, parked on the tarmac at Santa Marta’s Simon Bolivar Airport.

Diane struggled to control conflicting emotions as Gabriel moved toward her. But when she lifted her head to look him in the eye, her hatred surfaced unchallenged.

He sat down across from her and leaned forward.

Diane shot him a cold stare. “Why am I being held prisoner here?”

Gabriel’s voice was gentle, dismayed, hurt. “I have been worried. I have searched the earth and the heavens for you since that night.”

Diane responded in an icy tone: “Hey, I thought we had fun too. But I’m surprised a man with your experience would take a one night stand so seriously.”

Gabriel winced, and she enjoyed it.

She pressed her advantage. “Why didn’t you have your thugs grab me on the mountain after your father saw me? It would have been easier to dispose of me there.”

At first Gabriel looked puzzled. Then understanding dawned. He smiled indulgently. “You have apparently encountered the ‘knights errant’ on your mountain trek. You have nothing to fear from them. They are just misguided romantics who live their lives in seventeenth century fiction. Years ago, I chose not to participate in the quarterly
fantasias
of
The Knights of New Granada
… Diana, why did you run from the island? Why are you angry at me?”

Diane stared at him with contempt. In his arrogance, he thought himself capable of the perfect crime. It was time to disabuse him of that notion. She experienced a sudden calm—perhaps like a suicide bomber just before he sets off the explosive, she thought. Her voice went flat. “I know you were involved in Vincent’s murder.”

At first, Gabriel’s eyes widened in utter surprise. Then they began to dance as if to celebrate the discovery of such a trivial problem. His lips quivered on the verge of laughter. “But that is absurd,” he managed to blurt out. “Vincent was my friend. We emailed and spoke on the phone often. He knew I had controlling ownership of BRI; he was disturbed about some irregularities—”

“I saw the video. I watched the
MARIA V
flee after intentionally crippling
Woodwind
. I’m sure your elderly father could not have been aboard the boat in that horrible weather. It had to be you. As for your missing former boat captain—Jaime? I have reason to believe you threw him overboard.”

Gabriel stood and walked slowly toward the front of the airplane. He stopped, leaned on a high seatback and cupped his forehead in his hand.

After a few minutes, Diane heard him take a deep breath and exhale in resignation. He returned to her, his brow wrinkled, his eyes pained. “We will settle this at a later time. Meanwhile, I will have my pilot take you wherever you want to go.”