“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty.” Maddock gave the snoring Bones a shove, both of them having slept their respective shifts. The startled Indian raised a fist, which Maddock clamped in a steady hand.
“Save it for anyone who gets in our way. It’s go-time.”
Maddock shouldered his backpack and stared outside the cave at the jungle. The rain had stopped, leaving only the sounds of millions of insects, blended with a few birdcalls and the dripping of water onto the forest floor.
Maddock took out his camera and scrolled through its pictures until he found the aerial shots he’d taken from the helicopter on the way in. He showed one to Bones. “So this is what I was thinking. You see the radio tent there…” The large tent and the antenna tower were clearly visible in the shot.
“I see it.”
Maddock passed a fingernail over the tiny screen. “Over here is a thick stand of plants, and then the lagoon beach past that.”
“You want to hang out in those bushes while we scout out the tent?”
“I don’t really want to, Bones, as much I enjoy your company, but I think it offers the best chance of not being seen until we establish what’s happening in and around the radio tent.”
“What’s the best way to get there?”
Maddock studied the aerial image and traced a finger across the small screen while he spoke. “We go through the jungle like we’re taking a shotcut to camp, but before we get to the end, we cut through here.” He jabbed his finger at a spot on the display. “We’ll come out on this narrow strip of lagoon beach, with the jungle still shielding us from the camp side.”
Bones dragged his meaty finger across the camera. “Then we just walk along the beach to that clump of bushes you were talking about to scope out the tent.”
“That’s it. Ready?”
“Sure could use a strong cup of coffee,” Bones said, stretching in the mouth of the cave.
“Wrestling this box full of smallpox down those rocks should be a good wake-up call.”
Maddock hefted the crate and walked over to Bones, who took half its weight. Together they eased the old box down the rocky incline until they reached the soggy ground. Maddock retrieved the poles they used to carry the box, placed the box on the poles as before, switched their dive lights on, and began to move once again through the rain forest.
The going was slow in the darkness over the waterlogged ground, and they had no desire to push their luck knowing what was inside the crate should they drop it. They plodded onward, glancing now and then at their watches, dreading the possibility of finding Sims already at work in the radio tent when they got there. He was known to keep odd hours in order to best utilize atmospheric phenomena that might offer the best radio wave propagation. The crate felt heavier than ever and they had to stop and rest every so often.
After what seemed like a long while they recognized a grouping of trees and knew that they were almost to the end of the jungle where it opened onto the path leading to camp.
“We cut through there.” Maddock pointed through what looked like the thickest possible part of the jungle. He knew from the aerial photograph that the atoll’s lagoon lay not far on the other side of it. They set off into it, moving slower than before and stopping frequently to set the poles down while they used their knives to cut vines out of the way or chop down obstructing branches.
After an exhausting trek they cautiously emerged onto the narrow ribbon of sand fronting the lagoon. After listening and watching they saw no reason not to continue and took up the poles again. They walked along the sand, welcoming the warm breeze wafting off the lagoon. When they reached the cluster of foliage Maddock had picked out in the aerial photo, they briefly surveyed the area. Quiet all around.
They dragged the crate deep inside the plants and hid the poles. They situated themselves so that they had a decent view of the radio tent. Immediately they were disappointed. Lantern light from inside the tent cast the shadow of Harvey Sims as he sat hunched over his equipment.
Maddock and Bones settled in to wait. After a while boredom set in, interrupted only by the stings and bites of unseen insects. They watched their surroundings from beneath a shroud of protective plants.
Bones swatted at his neck. “Nothing like hanging around in a thicket with a box full of smallpox while you donate your blood to the local bugs.”
Suddenly they heard the thud of footfalls approaching fast from the other side of the ham radio tent. Maddock felt Bones tense, reaching for his knife. But he gripped his shoulder, pushing him down.
“Hold up! Listen.”
Bones continued to watch through the gaps in the leaves but remained motionless. Shouted commands of some sort drifted to them in the wind. Then two figures came into view. Even in the dim light, Maddock could see that the man in the lead was Fred Spinney. He was being pushed by another man whom he didn’t recognize. As they drew nearer to the tent, Maddock held his breath as he realized that one of them was Asian.
And that he held a handgun locked onto the nape of Spinney’s neck.