Plague

CHAPTER 40

When Sam had thought of Iquitos, Peru, she had seen degraded huts about to fall onto the muddied floors they covered, swarms of mosquitos, meat hanging to dry on long ropes between trees. Instead, she saw a perfectly modest city with paved roads, plenty of apartment buildings, and red Spanish-tile churches and government buildings that could have been found in many European countries.

The plane landed on a small airstrip outside the city and she watched the massive green trees and lush grasslands that lay before her. There was another side to the city; shantytowns where the poor were huddled in the huts she had imagined. Some of the children were wearing little more than shorts, their feet hardened like clay from not possessing any shoes. As the rented cars with the young drivers pulled to a stop and they climbed aboard, Sam stared at the hovels. She could see families inside them, and not just nuclear families. Probably uncles, aunts, cousins, and grandparents. Many of the huts didn’t look like they were any larger than studio apartments.

She rode with Duncan and Agent Donner and they wound through the city streets, avoiding bicyclists and rickshaws and the occasional donkey hauling coffee beans or rice. They drove for what seemed like an hour and Agent Donner spoke to the driver in Spanish. The driver, suddenly, looked like he had seen a ghost.

“What’d you say?” Duncan asked.

“I told him that he shouldn’t push his hours up or we won’t use him again.”

Samantha said, “That’s all?”

“That’s all. Why?”

“He looks frightened.”

“They rely heavily on the tourists. They don’t want to piss anybody off and have me leave bad reviews all over the place.”

From there, it only took five minutes to get to the hotel. It was a baby-blue structure of three stories and they parked at the curb. The driver hopped out first and collected their bags, taking them inside. Agent Donner got out and stretched his back, inhaling a deep breath of the city air.

“You know,” he said, “even ten years ago the air here was crisp and refreshing. Like the air at the top of a mountain. It tastes like exhaust now. It’s a shame our species had to ruin that. We’ll miss it when it’s gone, I think.” He looked to a small café across the street. “I’m going to grab some lunch. Anyone care to join me?”

“I’m starving,” Duncan said. He turned to Sam. “You in?”

“No, I’m exhausted. I need to get some shut-eye.”

“Suit yourself. Come by if you change your mind.”

The two men walked across the street as Sam watched. Agent Donner never let his back relax; it was always straight, held stiff as if he were waiting for an inspection. She got the feeling that he was a man that never lost control.

She walked inside the hotel. She was going to ask the desk clerk in her broken Spanish where her room was. But he already held out a key that said 121 on it and she smiled and said, “Gracias,” before heading down the hallway.

Sam found room 121 and unlocked the door. A couple was in the room, laughing. They were dressing and it was such a surprise Sam didn’t say anything. They quickly put on their clothes and snuck past her, apologizing. She glanced to the bed and saw that it was messy.

She walked in and sat down on the couch, asleep before she could think about whether they had used the couch as well.

Duncan sat across from Agent Donner at a table that was set outside on a veranda. There were a few other people there, mostly tourists, and they sipped coffee and beer and ate snacks rather than large meals.

Agent Donner ate an odd smelling beef stew and drank something that smelled like paint thinner. Duncan watched him a while and Donner said, “What?” without looking up from his food.

“Nothing. I’ve just never seen someone eat something that smelled so bad with that much gusto.”

“This is nothing. In Ghana, there’s a large rodent that I still don’t know the name of. They barely cook it over a large spit and then slice off pieces, fur and all, and if you don’t eat it with them, because food is so scarce and they’re extending their hospitality, they’ll never talk to you again.”

“What were you doing in Ghana?”

“Research.”

“On what?”

“Their water supply. Water’s privatized over there and warlords own it. You think Microsoft or Standard Oil were monopolies? You should see a methed-up warlord with a machete try to keep his market share.”

Duncan took a sip of coffee. It was so strong it made his nostrils burn. “You seem to have travelled a lot. Didn’t know the FBI paid for so many flights.”

“New world now. We’re not the former accountants in black suits anymore.”

“How long was your training in Quantico for?”

Duncan watched as Agent Donner wiped his lips with a napkin and then looked him in the eyes. “Twenty-one weeks. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. Seems like an interesting job to me. So what’d you do after Quantico?”

“I was in violent crime and then computer forensics before being transferred to terrorism after 9-11. If you’re so curious, you should apply. The bureau could always use good scientists.”

“No, I can barely stomach working for the government as it is. Don’t know how I’d feel if I actually impacted people’s lives.”

Agent Donner took a long sip of water and then placed the glass down as if to signal that he was done with the conversation. He looked at Duncan, their eyes locking. A grin came over his face. “We should go. You need some rest before we go trekking through the jungle together.”