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“What did the Spanish do here?” Natalie asked. “It’s nothing but jungle.”

“They grew coffee and cocoa,” Jack said. “At least that’s my understanding. Of course, I don’t have any idea where they grew it.”

“Uh-oh, I see a soldier,” Laurie said.

“I see him, too,” Jack said. His eyes had been searching along the waterfront as they came closer.

The soldier was dressed in the same jungle camouflage fatigues and red beret as the ones at the gate. He was aimlessly pacing a cobblestone square immediately at the base of the pier with an assault rifle slung over his shoulder.

“Does that mean we switch to plan C?” Warren questioned teasingly.

“Not yet,” Jack said. “Obviously, he’s where he is to interdict people coming off the pier. But look at that Chickee Hut built on the beach. If we got in there, we’d be home free.”

“We can’t just run the canoe up onto the beach,” Laurie said. “He’ll see that as well.”

“Look how high that pier is,” Jack said. “What if we were to slip underneath, beach the canoe there and then walk to the Chickee Hut? What do you think?”

“Sounds cool,” Warren said. “But this boat is not going to fit under that pier, no way.”

Jack stood up and made his way over to one of the poles that supported the thatched roof. It disappeared into a hole in the gunwale. Grasping it with both hands, he pulled it up. “How convenient!” he said. “This canoe is a convertible.”

A few minutes later, they had all the poles out, and the thatched roof had been converted to a pile of sticks and dried leaves. They distributed it along both sides under the benches.

“The owner’s not going to be happy about this,” Natalie commented.

Jack angled the boat so that the pier shielded them as much as possible from the line of sight from the square. Jack cut the engine just at the moment they glided into the shade under the pier. Grasping the timbers they guided the boat toward shore, being careful to duck under crossbeams.

The boat scraped up the shady patch of shore and came to a stop.

“So far so good,” Jack said. He encouraged the women and Warren to get out. Then, with Warren pulling and Jack paddling, they got the boat high on the beach.

Jack got out and pointed to a stone wall that ran perpendicular to the base of the pier before disappearing into the gently rising sand of the beach. “Let’s hug the wall. When we clear it, head for the Chickee Bar.”

A few minutes later, they were in the bar. The soldier had not paid them any heed. Either he didn’t see them or he didn’t care.

The bar was deserted except for a black man carefully cutting up lemons and limes. Jack motioned toward the stools and suggested a celebratory drink. Everyone was happy to comply. It had been hot in the canoe after the sun came out and especially after the canopy had come down.

The bartender came over immediately. His name tag identified him as Saturnino. In contradiction to his name, he was a jovial fellow. He was wearing a wild print shirt and a pillbox hat similar to the one Arturo had on when he picked them up at the airport the previous afternoon.

Following Natalie’s lead, everyone had Coke with a slice of lemon.

“Not much business today,” Jack commented to Saturnino.

“Not until after five,” the bartender said. “Then we are very busy.”

“We’re new here,” Jack said. “What money do we use?”

“You can sign,” Saturnino.

Jack looked at Laurie for permission. Laurie shook her head. “We’d rather pay,” he said. “Are dollars okay?”

“What you like,” Saturnino said. “Dollars or CFA. It makes no difference.”

“Where is the hospital?” Jack asked.

Saturnino pointed over his shoulder. “Up the street until you get to the main square. It is the big building on the left.”

“What do they do there?” Jack asked.

Saturnino looked at Jack as if he were crazy. “They take care of people.”

“Do people come from America just to go to the hospital?” Jack asked.

Saturnino shrugged. “I don’t know about that,” he said. He took the bills Jack had put on the bar and turned to the cash register.

“Nice try,” Laurie whispered.

“It would have been too easy,” Jack agreed.

Refreshed after their cold drinks, the group headed out into the sunlight. They passed within fifty feet of the soldier who continued to ignore them. After a short walk up a hot cobblestone street, they came to a small green surrounded by plantation-style homes.

“It reminds me of some of the Caribbean Islands,” Laurie said.

Five minutes later, they entered the tree-lined town square. The group of soldiers lolling in front of the town hall diagonally across from where they were standing spoiled the otherwise idyllic tableau.

“Whoa,” Jack said. “There’s a whole battalion.”

“I thought you said that if there were soldiers at the gate they wouldn’t have to have any in the town,” Laurie said.

“I’ve been proved wrong,” Jack acknowledged. “But there’s no need to go over and announce ourselves. This is the hospital lab complex in front of us.”

From the corner of the square, the building appeared to take up most of a Cogo city block. There was an entrance facing the square, but there was also one down the side street to their left. To avoid remaining in view of the lounging soldiers, they went to the side entrance.

“What are you going to say if we’re questioned?” Laurie asked with some concern. “And walking into a hospital, you know it’s bound to happen.”

“I’m going to improvise,” Jack said. He yanked the door open and ushered his friends in with an exaggerated bow.

Laurie glanced at Natalie and Warren and rolled her eyes. At least Jack could still be charming even when he was most exasperating.

After entering the building, everyone shivered with delight. Never had air conditioning felt quite so good. The room they found themselves in appeared to be a lounge, complete with wall-to-wall carpeting, club chairs, and couches. A large bookcase lined one wall. Some of the shelving was on an angle to display an impressive collection of periodicals from Time to National Geographic. There were about a half dozen people sitting in the room, all of them reading.

In the back wall at desk height was an opening fronted with sliding glass panels. Behind the glass a black woman in a blue uniform dress was sitting at a desk. To the right of the opening was a hall with several elevators.

“Could all these people be patients?” Laurie asked.

“Good question,” Jack said. “Somehow, I don’t think so. They all look too healthy and too comfortable. Let’s talk to the secretary or whoever she is.”

Warren and Natalie were intimidated by the hospital environment. They silently followed after Jack and Laurie.

Jack rapped softly on the glass. The woman looked up from her work and slid the glass open.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t see you arrive. Are you checking in?”

“No,” Jack said. “All my bodily functions are working fine at the moment.”

“Excuse me?” the woman questioned.

“We’re here to see the hospital, not use its services,” Jack said. “We’re doctors.”

“This isn’t the hospital,” the woman said. “This is the Inn. You can either go out and come in the front of the building or follow the hall to your right. The hospital is beyond the double doors.”

“Thank you,” Jack said.

“My pleasure,” the woman said. She leaned forward and watched as Jack and the others disappeared around the corner. Perplexed, the woman sat back and picked up her phone.

Jack led the others through the double doors. Immediately, the surroundings looked more familiar. The floors were vinyl and the walls were painted a soothing hospital green. A faint antiseptic smell was detectable.

“This is more like it,” Jack said.

They entered a room whose windows fronted on the square. Between the windows were a large pair of doors leading to the outside. There were a few couches and chairs on area rugs forming distinct conversational groupings, but it was nothing like the lounge they’d initially entered. But like the lounge, this space had a glass-fronted information cubbyhole.

Jack again knocked on the glass. Another woman slid open the glass partition. She was equally as cordial.

“We have a question,” Jack said. “We’re doctors, and we’d like to know if there are currently any transplant patients in the hospital?”

“Yes, of course, there’s one,” the woman said with a confused look on her face. “Horace Winchester. He’s in 302 and ready to be discharged.”

“How convenient,” Jack said. “What organ was transplanted?”

“His liver,” the woman said. “Are you all from the Pittsburgh group?”

“No, we’re part of the New York group,” Jack said.

“I see,” the woman said, although her expression suggested she didn’t see at all.

“Thank you,” Jack said to the woman as he herded the group toward the elevators that could be seen to the right.

“Luck is finally going our way,” Jack said excitedly. “This is going to make it easy. Maybe all we have to do is get a look at the chart.”

“As if that’s going to be easy,” Laurie commented.

“True,” Jack said after a moment’s thought. “So maybe we should just drop in on Horace and get the lowdown from the horse’s mouth.”

“Hey, man,” Warren said, pulling Jack to a stop. “Maybe Natalie and I should wait down here. We’re not used to being in a hospital, you know what I’m saying?”

“I suppose,” Jack said reluctantly. “But I kind of think its important for us to stick together in case we have to mosey down to the canoe sooner than we’d like. You know what I’m saying?”

Warren nodded and Jack pressed the elevator call button.