As she continued to watch, she saw Dodgson break away from King, and hurry over to supervise the deckhands. Left alone, King went to check on the straps that lashed the boxes and barrels to the deck farther aft. The boxes marked "Biosyn."
Harding had never heard of the Biosyn Corporation. She wondered what connection Ian and Richard had with it. Whenever Ian was around her, he had always been critical, even contemptuous, of biotechnology companies. And these men seemed to be unlikely friends. They were too rigid, too…geeky.
But then, she reflected, Ian did have strange friends. They were always showing up unexpectedly at his apartment - the Japanese calligrapher, the Indonesian gamalan troupe, the Las Vegas juggler in a shiny bolero jacket, that weird French astrologer who thought the earth was hollow…And then there were his mathematician friends. They were really crazy. Or so they seemed to Sarah. They were so wild-eyed, so wrapped up in their proofs. Pages and pages of proofs, sometimes hundreds of pages. It was all too abstract for her. Sarah Harding liked to touch the dirt, to see the animals, to experience the sounds and the smells. That was real to her. Everything else was just a bunch of theories: possibly right, possibly wrong.
Waves began to crash over the bow, and she moved a little astern, to keep dry. She yawned; she hadn't slept much in the last twenty-four hours. Dodgson finished working on the Jeep, and came over to her.
She said, "Everything all right?"
"Oh yes," Dodgson said, smiling cheerfully.
"Your friend King seemed upset."
"He doesn't like boats," Dodgson said. He nodded to the waves. "But we're making better time. It'll only be an hour or so, until we land."
"Tell me," she said. "What is the Biosyn Corporation? I've never heard of it."
"It's a small company," Dodgson said. "We make what are called consumer biologicals. We specialize in recreational and sports organisms. For example, we engineered new kinds of trout, and other game fish. We're making new kinds of dogs-smaller pets for apartment dwellers. That sort of thing."
Exactly the sort of thing that Ian hated, she thought. "How do you know Ian?"
"Oh, we go way back," Dodgson said.
She noticed his vagueness. "How far?"
"Back to the days of the park."
"The park," she said.
He nodded. "Did he ever tell you how he hurt his leg?"
"No," she said. "He would never talk about it. He just said it happened on a consulting job that had…I don't know. Some sort of trouble. Was it a park?"
"Yes, in a way," Dodgson said, staring out at the ocean, After a moment, he shrugged. "And what about you? How do you know him?"
"He was one of my thesis readers. I'm an ethologist. I study large mammals in African grassland ecosystems. East Africa. Carnivores, in particular."
"Carnivores?"
"I've been studying hyenas," she said. "Before that, lions."
"For a long time?"
"Almost ten years, now. Six years continuously, since my doctorate."
"Interesting," Dodgson said, nodding, "And so did you come here all the way from Africa?"
"Yes, from Seronera. In Tanzania."
Dodgson nodded vaguely. He looked past her shoulder toward the island. "What do you know. Looks like the weather may clear, after all."
She turned and saw streaks of blue in the thinning clouds overhead. The sun was trying to break through. The sea was calmer. And she was surprised to see the island was much closer. She could clearly see the cliffs, rising above the seas. The cliffs were reddish-gray volcanic rock, very sheer.
"In Tanzania," Dodgson said. "You run a large research team?"
"No. I work alone."
"No students?" he said.
"I'm afraid not. It's because my work just isn't very glamorous. The big savannah carnivores in Africa are primarily nocturnal. So my research is mostly conducted at night."
"Must be hard on your husband."
"Oh, I'm not married," she said, with a little shrug.
"I'm surprised," he said. "After all, a beautiful woman like you…"
"I never had time," she said quickly. To change the subject, she said, "Where do you land on this island?"
Dodgson turned to look. They were now close enough to the island to see the waves crashing, high and white, against the base of the cliffs. They were only a mile or two away.
"It's an unusual island," Dodgson said. "This whole region of central America is volcanic. There are something like thirty active volcanoes between Mexico and Colombia. All these offshore islands were at one time active volcanoes, part of the central chain. But unlike the mainland, the islands are now dormant. Haven't erupted for a thousand years or so.
"So we're seeing the outside of the crater?"
"Exactly. The cliffs are all the result of erosion from rainfall, but the ocean erodes the base of the cliffs, too. Those flat sections on the cliff you see are where the ocean cut in at the bottom, and huge areas of the cliff face were undermined, and just cleaved, falling straight down into the sea. It's all soft volcanic rock."
"And so you land…"
"There are several places on the windward side where the ocean has cut caves into the cliff. And at two of those places, the caves meet rivers flowing out from the interior. So they're passable." He pointed ahead. "You see there, you can just now see one of the caves."
Sarah Harding saw a dark irregular opening cut into the base of the cliff. All around it, the waves crashed, plumes of white water rising fifty feet up into the air.
"You're going to take this boat into that cave there?"
"If the weather holds, yes." Dodgson turned away. "Don't worry, it's not as bad as it looks. Anyway, you were saying. About Africa. When did you leave Africa?"
"Right after Doc Thorne called. He said he was going with Ian to rescue Richard, and asked if I wanted to come."
"And what did you say?"
"I said I'd think about it."
Dodgson frowned. "You didn't tell him you were coming?"
"No. Because I wasn't sure I wanted to. I mean, I'm busy. I have my work. And it's a long way."
"For an old lover," Dodgson said, nodding sympathetically.
She sighed. "Well. You know. Ian."
"Yes, I know Ian," Dodgson said. "Quite a character."
"That's one way to put it," she said.
There was an awkward silence. Dodgson cleared his throat. "I'm confused," he said, "Who exactly did you tell you were coming here?"
"Nobody," she said. "I just jumped on the next plane and came."
"But what about your university, your colleagues…"
She shrugged. "There wasn't time. And as I said, I work alone." She looked again at the island. The cliffs rose high above the boat. They were only a few hundred yards away. The cave appeared much larger now, but the waves crashed high on either side. She shook her head. "It looks pretty rough."
"Don't worry," Dodgson said. "See? The captain's already making for it. We'll be perfectly safe, once we're passing through. And then…It should be very exciting."
The boat rolled and dipped in the sea, an uncertain motion. She gripped the railing. Beside her, Dodgson grinned. "See what I mean? Exciting, isn't it?" He seemed suddenly energized, almost agitated. His body became tense; he rubbed his hands together. "No need to worry, Ms. Harding, I can't allow anything to happen to - "
She didn't know what he was talking about, but before she could reply, the nose of the boat dipped again, kicking up spray, and she stumbled a little. Dodgson bent over quickly - apparently to steady her - but it seemed as if something went wrong - his body struck against her legs, then lifted - and then another wave crashed over them and she felt her body twist and she screamed and clutched at the railing. But it was all happening too fast, the world upended and swirled around her, her head clanged once on the railing and then she was tumbling, falling through space. She saw the peeling paint on the hull of the boat sliding past her, she saw the green ocean rush up toward her, and then she was shocked with the sudden stinging cold as she plunged into the rough, heaving sea, and sank beneath the waves, into darkness.