Miss Teriyaki bobbed up to fetch her cake, and Miss Speal hurriedly collected the plates, her head bowed. Miss Hunroe tossed her coin and inspected it when it landed in her palm.
“Goodness knows we had worked up an appetite,” Miss Hunroe went on, glaring at Miss Speal. “You really are a Little Miss Butterfingers, aren’t you, squealy Spealy?” Everyone stared at Miss Speal, who continued clearing the table with her head low.
Miss Oakkton clicked her tongue in agreement. “Tttut, tttut.”
Then Miss Hunroe snapped. “I cannot believe you were so stupid! You make me sick. Can’t you feeeeeel where it is, Miss Speal?” she taunted. She sat still for a moment to compose herself. “Think again. Where did you drop the blue stone, Miss Speal?”
“Erm,” Miss Speal spluttered. “I’m—I’m not entirely sure. As I said, I think—I think it was up there.” She pointed to the ledge above the encampment.
“We know,” Miss Hunroe hissed. “Miss Oakkton and Miss Teriyaki have been crawling around up there all afternoon. Miss Speal, are you sure you are telling the truth?” Miss Hunroe pulled out a set of panpipes for the third time that evening and put them to her red lips. She blew gently, and a gorgeous sound like a playful mountain wind blowing through the trees filled the air. The gaggle of women gazed adoringly at Miss Hunroe, and a dreamy look filled their eyes. Miss Speal stared at the panpipes, transfixed.
“Tell me again, Miss Speal,” Miss Hunroe cajoled. “Did you really lose it, or have you hidden it because you love it so much?” Above them was a roll of thunder.
Miss Speal sighed. “I have not hidden it, I lost it.” She began to weep. “And I can sense that girl is near.”
Miss Hunroe blew suddenly into her instrument, making it shriek. “The girl may be near, Miss Speal. But she is dead. No one could have survived that plane crash.” She looked distainfully at the skinny, pale woman. “Imbecile.”
Miss Teriyaki stood holding out her chocolate cake. “At least some things are dependable, Miss Hunroe,” she said, worming. Miss Hunroe smiled, watching as Miss Teriyaki cut her a large slice. “You will never guess what we found today,” Miss Teriyaki went on, trying to change the subject. “We found a—”
“Does this cake have coffee in it?” Miss Hunroe asked suddenly. “You know I can’t have caffeine at this time of night or I won’t sleep.”
“Of course not,” Miss Teriyaki replied, passing her her dessert plate. Miss Hunroe prodded her fork into her cake. Miss Teriyaki continued, “It is a strange variety, but shows what an influence the Chinese had on Ecuador—”
“What are you talking about, Miss Teriyaki? Come on, spit it out.” Miss Hunroe raised her fork to her lips.
“Well, we found this—”
Miss Hunroe interrupted once more. “Does it have alcohol in it, Miss Teriyaki? You know I can’t abide alcohol in food.”
“Oh, no! Just pure chocolate.”
Miss Hunroe put a forkful of chocolate cake into her mouth.
“We found this—”
“Aaaaaaah!” Miss Hunroe spat and coughed, and chocolate cake went splattering all over the table. She rose from her seat furiously. “WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO, MISS TERIYAKI? POISON ME?” Miss Hunroe picked up her plate and Frisbeed it away from the table so that it flew through the air and clattered into a tree. “I’ve had enough of this foul cooking.” She glared at her assembled team. “If there is any more of it, the chef responsible will go and never, never…” Miss Hunroe’s voice dropped a few decibels as her anger raged. “NEVER COME BACK! Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Miss Hunroe,” the gathering whispered.
“Yes, Miss Hunroe,” Miss Teriyaki whimpered. She lifted her eyes dolefully. As she did, she caught the eye of Miss Speal. Miss Speal’s small brown eyes seemed to be laughing, as though what had just happened was the funniest thing in the world.
The next morning Molly was woken at dawn by a giant, long-beaked toucan squawking in a tree near her shelter. It had started to rain. Above, the sky was gray and rumbling with thunder again. Cappuccino the monkey chattered at her from a nearby tree, as if to say good morning. Bas was already up. When he saw Molly stir, he came over and put his blanket around her shoulders.
“You’ll need your energy today,” he said. Then he went to his rucksack. Taking a large, leathery, bowl-shaped leaf, he put something from his bag into it. He added some sort of juice from a bottle and then came back with this forest bowl full of sticky, cold porridge. Molly ate her stodgy breakfast. Bas watched her like a teacher might watch a precious student. Molly knew that he believed everything she had told him about Miss Hunroe. It now seemed to her that, as though she was a prizefighter about to enter the ring or a warrior on whose victory many people’s lives depended, he was treating Molly with the utmost respect.
“I’m ready,” she said.
“Good.”
Bas led Molly to a clearing in the trees. Ahead and above them, magnificent in the morning light, were the owl-shaped crags. Molly’s insides began quivering with nerves. She swallowed hard. She knew that soon she would be facing Miss Hunroe. Molly had no idea how many of the other horrible women were with her, or what the challenge ahead was. Molly’s mind raced. She hoped Miss Hunroe was not expecting her. Molly felt like a person on some sort of twisted, dangerous TV challenge show, except of course this was real and there was no getting away—no calling up the producer of the TV show and saying, “Stop! I’ve had enough.”
“I hope I can sort this out,” she said to Bas. “There’s—there’s a good chance that I won’t be able…” Molly’s voice trailed off as the immensity of the task ahead sank in.
“It’s amazing that you’re trying,” Bas said reassuringly. “I think you are very brave.” He put his arm around her shoulders.
They headed directly for the crags. Bas led Molly down the slope toward a wall of bushes. He helped Molly climb a tree, and they both peeped over the top.
“There they are,” he murmured.
As if transported from a dream and glistening in the rain, glowing red, gray, green, and blue like alien objects, were the four vast weather rocks, the Logan Stones. They stood in a circle, huge, majestic, and utterly beautiful. One was orange, with red flecks in it that glowed as though the sun burned from within it. Another was shot with an array of tropical greens. The third was cloudy gray, with white flecks in it, as though both dark storm clouds and the lightest, fluffiest clouds inhabited it, and the fourth was blue—bright turquoise like Caribbean waters and deep blue like the ocean.
“And the rock behind the stones,” Bas whispered, “with the water gushing out of it? That’s the spring of the Coca River. And that giant mud mound that looks like a sandcastle in the middle of the stones? That’s a…” He fell silent.
What Molly saw next was like a vision from a nightmare. Miss Hunroe and Miss Oakkton stepped out from behind the mud mound and into view. They stood in the rain, in the center of the stones. Molly and Bas shrank back. Molly could hardly believe it. She had to pinch herself to make sure she was awake. To have come all this way, to be in the middle of the wilderness, and to be actually looking at Miss Hunroe in a khaki jungle suit and Miss Oakkton in a tentlike robe was surreal. Both of them were soaked to the bone, their clothes and hair sopping wet. Neither held the hypnotism book. They simply stood beside the stones, staring at their hands.
“Oooow!” Miss Oakkton suddenly boomed, and as fast as genies disappearing into a bottle, the two women vanished, leaving two piles of clothes on the muddy ground.