The small gorilla was still insisting she could find Dexter, but DeeAnn wasn’t sure what that actually meant.
DeeAnn sat quietly, contemplating, while Caesare remained just as quiet next to her. This storm was another problem he didn’t need. Flying through a thunderstorm was damn dangerous.
It took less than thirty minutes to get the bad news. The storm had indeed turned east, and straight into their path. The two pilots seated in front of Caesare stared through the windshield with a look of dread.
Avoiding most of the storm, they would have made it with at least some fuel left. But now… their odds were fifty-fifty at best. It was growing in size and both pilots knew that no one would fly through what was ahead of them unless they had absolutely no choice. Which they now didn’t.
Colombia’s Medellin and Bogota airports had followed Venezuela’s lead and denied them permission to land, which left Iquitos, Peru, as the only runway now long enough to accept them. They could, of course, try to force their way down using the international distress frequency — but once on the ground, Colombia would know who they were and where they were likely headed.
Now at less than ninety minutes from Iquitos and a top speed of 320 miles per hour, the C-12 Huron was four hundred and fifty miles away and burning fuel at an alarming rate.
Another sudden gust shoved the plane sideways in the air, causing everyone in the cabin to grasp something to avoid being thrown. Outside, the sky had darkened into an ominous gray as the giant storm began to envelop them.
Caesare moved back down the narrow isle to Juan and DeeAnn, the latter having stolen his seat across from Dulce. After activating the vest, she was talking to Dulce to keep her calm. Following another severe bounce, the young gorilla wrinkled her nose with concern.
No fly like bird.
DeeAnn shook her head in agreement. “No, this is not like a bird. But don’t be afraid.”
She and Juan looked up when Caesare motioned her to mute the vest.
“This storm isn’t going our way,” he said. “An emergency landing in Colombia would out us and there’s a good chance they wouldn’t let us leave. Which means our only option is to fight through this and get to Iquitos as fast as we can.” They all grabbed hold as the aircraft plunged again by several feet. “The good news is that this is a hell of a plane and Iquitos is going to be ready for us. The bad news is that conditions are going to get worse.” He looked to DeeAnn. “How are you guys holding up?”
“Not great.” DeeAnn looked to Dulce, who had her two long arms wrapped firmly around the metal armrests. She was talking less and less and DeeAnn could see increasing signs of anxiety.
“Juan?”
“I’m okay for the moment. But I may need a bag.”
“I’ll see what I can find,” he said, patting the top of Juan’s seat. “We’re gonna make it. Just hang in there.”
It was the best thing he could think to say. And it was true what he said about the durability of the plane. Even the storm’s powerful winds couldn’t flip it, but running out of fuel was a different matter. If they could make it to the airport, there would be only one danger remaining: landing. Because as bad the wind sheers were at altitude, they were far worse at ground level.
As Caesare turned to leave, the small satellite phone in his pocket rang. He braced himself against the low ceiling with one hand and pulled the phone out with the other.
“That you, Wil?”
“It is,” Borger answered. “How you guys doing?”
“Getting pretty bouncy, but we’ll make it.” Hopefully, Caesare thought.
“You’ve got a big storm headed right at you.”
“That’s very helpful, Wil. Any other good news?”
“Yes. Otero and his army are about a third the way up the mountain. They’ve stopped for the moment, but they’re moving faster than we thought. What’s your ETA?”
Caesare rolled his eyes. ETA? Chances of survival might be a better question. He raised his voice over a sudden wave of thunder. “Soon.”
“How soon?”
“VERY soon! I’ll call you back when we’re on the ground.”
“Okay. Be safe.”
Caesare ended the call and shook his head. His estimated time of arrival on the mountain was complicated. Their situation had gotten considerably more difficult… and he still hadn’t told DeeAnn the worst part.
36
The Brazilian’s stop on the way up the mountain was more than momentary. Otero stood in the shade of a small rubber tree, watching the long line of Salazar’s men digging along a deteriorated section of road, trying to repair it enough for their trucks to pass.
Otero lazily slapped a hand against his neck at another insect. The treelined canopy above them was not enough to block the glaring sun, which had turned their stretch of the forest into a sweltering sauna.
After being outside for even a short time, it was enough to drive Otero back to the air conditioning of his Land Rover. Russo faithfully followed and climbed in on the opposite side.
The road reconstruction was being directed by Salazar’s second lieutenant. A man in his early thirties, standing out in the heat with his men while Salazar also remained inside his lead vehicle.
Sitting silently behind Salazar was a female with short dirty-blonde hair, dressed in a white sleeveless shirt. Being a civilian zoologist assigned to the mission by a much higher-ranking officer did not prevent Salazar from pushing his authority onto her. Authority she had thus far largely ignored.
Dr. Becca, as she was known, kept her head down inside the cab, reading more on the work the deceased Mr. Alves had been conducting at his so-called “preserve.” A place which apparently had a number of dark secrets.
She’d read the information on the capuchin monkey several times, looking for any details or facts she may have missed. It was crucial she knew everything she could. One of the images gleaned from a security camera gave a better than average picture of the monkey — all solid gray fur, as opposed to the more common speckled colors, which meant at least some hope of ever finding the animal. But all in all, Becca was highly skeptical.
From her perspective, she had been pulled from her existing job at a prominent research center in Salvador to assist an army group of Neanderthals into the jungle in search of a mystical primate, supposedly carrying the secret to immortality. And not just human immortality but apparently all cellular life on the planet. It sounded ridiculous.
Becca had enough biology experience to know that immortality was a farce. A dream envisioned by people who never made very good use of the time they had until it was nearly up. Nothing in the biological kingdom had thus far escaped the tendrils of death, and she was sure that neither she nor any of the grunts outside were going to be the first.
Her goal was simply to find whatever they were looking for so she could return to her work in Salvador. However, she did have to admit that, while she found the immortality story absurd, she was somewhat fascinated by the more credible possibility of a capuchin having a higher level of intelligence than normal. That was how nature worked. Advances in small steps over long periods of time, not some magical leap. And given that capuchins were already rather intelligent, finding an outlier was far more believable… and interesting.
Becca continued reading through her thick folder, unaware that Salazar had opened his own door and climbed out until she felt the wave of heat rush past her.
Outside, he approached his lieutenant and waited for an update, even though there was little to offer. Anyone could observe the men still toiling away in sweat-soaked shirts.