"What, you mean pollution in a place like this? I don't believe it."
"I was thinking parasites," said Remo. "Anything from microbes up to flukes and leeches. We'll be boiling any water prior to drinking it. And just because you don't see crocs, it doesn't mean the fish are friendly."
Audrey made a sour face at Remo. "Thanks for spoiling Eden, Dr. Ward."
"You said you wanted someone to watch out for you."
"That's right, I did."
They filled their pots and walked back to the camp, found Sibu Sandakan and Dr. Stockwell there ahead of them, with ample wood to build a decent fire. They put the water on to boil, while Chalmers took his Weatherby and went to have a look around. It troubled Remo, thinking of the Brit beyond his sight line with the big scoped rifle, but he let it go. If Chalmers pulled a stunt like that in camp, it would mean killing all the witnesses, as well, and Remo didn't think he had the stones for that.
Unless, of course, he'd planned from the beginning to be coming back alone.
Their evening meal was simple. Freeze-dried stroganoff in plastic pouches that relaxed a bit when it was boiled, producing not-so-haute cuisine with the appeal of third-rate airline food. Still, it was filling, washed down with a good supply of strong black coffee. Remo drank and felt the caffeine tuning up his nerves, preparing him to stay alert as long as necessary through the night.
Through practice of Sinanju, he had learned to minimize the sleeping time his body needed, taking full advantage of whatever relaxation came his way. He could remain awake for days on end without apparent strain, or "sleep" while he was marching, paying just enough attention on the trail to keep from stumbling into traps and snares. In any case, he had caught up on sleeping in Kuala Lumpur and Dampar. If something happened in the middle of the night, he meant to know about it and respond effectively.
Among his five companions, there were mixed reactions to a long day in canoes and on the trail. Their guide displayed no symptoms of fatigue, but that was only natural for someone working on his own home ground. Pike Chalmers also seemed alert, a veteran in the bush, while Sibu Sandakan and Dr. Stockwell were already yawning over supper, winding down their conversation early, with remarks about an early start and long days yet to come. A glance at Audrey showed her dozing by the camp fire, but she came awake at once when Stockwell called her name and urged her to turn in.
"I think I will, at that" She barely glanced at Remo, turning toward her pup tent, but his mind was elsewhere, focused on the job at hand.
He had lost touch with their pursuers since they stopped to pitch the camp. It was as if the others had retreated, drawing back to some safe distance, minimizing any risk of contact in the dark. There would be no point moving on the camp tonight, he thought, before they even had a chance to start their search, but it was difficult to judge the plans of strangers he had never even seen. If one of his companions simply meant to use the expedition as a cover at the outset, jettison the deadwood early on and start pursuing the uranium in earnest on his or her own, one killing ground might serve as well as any other.
Still, he told himself, they hadn't even reached the Tasek Bera yet. Another day, without any mishaps, before they reached the jungle neighborhood where Terrence Hopper's party had come to grief. If it was me doing it, thought Remo, I'd put the ambush off until the targets brought me closer to the mark, perhaps did some of the attendant dirty work.
Don't count on total strangers to be rational.
With that in mind, he said good-night and crawled into his pup tent, feigning sleep and waiting while the others turned in, one by one. Pike Chalmers sat up for an hour after supper, polishing the Weatherby but never speaking to their Malay guide. Kuching Kangar, in turn, was last to crawl inside his tent, as if his job included seeing all his charges safely tucked in bed.
Another thirty minutes passed, with Remo listening to those around him through the thin walls of his tent. When he was reasonably sure that all of them were sleeping, Remo wormed his way outside, a silent shadow gliding past the fire and off into the trees.
He spent a moment standing on the border of the clearing, eyes closed, reaching out with other senses to the night. He paid no real attention to the sounds of birds and insects and nocturnal predators. It was indeed the absence of their noise that would alert him to potential danger. That, and the peculiar, artificial sounds most men are physically unable to avoid. The whisper of a shoe sole brushing over sand or stone, so much more sinister than snapping twigs. Metallic sounds of any kind that rang out loud and clear in nature's realm. A sneeze or whisper. Fabric kissing flesh.
But there was nothing, and he walked back to the stream, content to be alone. The bats were out and skimming low across the water, snatching insects from the air. A fish jumped somewhere off to Remo's left, and something larger was growling on the far side of the stream, put off by Remo's scent.
Good hunting.
He heard the footsteps coming moments later, turned to greet the new arrival, smelling Audrey well before his eyes picked out her silhouette in dappled moonlight. When he stepped out, right in front of her, she jumped and gave a little squeal.
"For God's sake, Renton!" Even startled, she was whispering, as if to keep their meeting secret from the others.
"Trouble sleeping?" Remo asked.
"It's all too much, you know? I mean, I'm tired, but there's too much to see and do. It won't last long enough."
"You may feel differently this time next week."
"I won't," she said. "It's the adventure of a lifetime, right?"
"You'll have to work your butt off in the next few days," he said.
"Not all of it, I hope."
A subtle movement in the tree beside her caught his eye, and Remo's hand flashed out, almost too fast for Audrey's eyes to follow.
"What—?"
He held the wriggling viper up in front of her, gripped close behind its spade-shaped head, the body twining fluidly around his forearm. Remo checked the coloration of its scales and smiled at Audrey.
"Trimeresurus flavoviridis," he announced.
"It's poisonous?"
"Sharp local pain and hemorrhages of the internal organs," he replied. "Intensive bleeding from the bite itself is not uncommon."
As he spoke, he flung the snake away from him, out toward the middle of the stream. It splashed down, quickly surfaced, started swimming for the distant shore.
"You have quick hands," she said.
"Sometimes."
"I guess you saved my life."
"My pleasure," Remo said.
"How can I ever thank you?"
"Well… "
"I know," she said. "I'll improvise."
Remo watched as she began unbuttoning her shirt. "I warned you once about the swimming," he reminded her.
"Who says I'm going in the water?"
Sometime in between the pitching of her tent and trailing Remo to the stream, she had removed her bra. Not that she needs one, Remo thought. Her breasts were firm and round, defying gravity, with nipples that seemed tawny but would almost certainly be pink in daylight.
She dropped the blouse behind her, moving faster as she started on the buckle of her belt. It stalled her for a moment, Audrey blushing, but she got it then, unsnapped her jeans and ran the zipper down. Paused long enough to work her shoes off, treating Remo to a bit of jiggle in the process. Rolled snug denim down across hips, buttocks, thighs.
No panties, either, he observed.
"Is this what they call dressing for success?"
"Depends on what your goal is," she replied. "Now, you."
"We hardly know each other," Remo said.