MAPUTO, MOZAMBIQUE
“It’s settled, then?” Amaury said after they’d tied up the Sorcière. “You will be here on this very dock first thing Sunday morning.”
Marten Jeukens nodded as he hefted his duffel bag’s strap onto his shoulder. “I have business later today and tomorrow, but if all goes well, I’ll be here bright and early on Sunday.”
Business … Amaury wondered just what that might be. Nothing connected with their island, he hoped. All along the 1,100-kilometer route from Toliara the Afrikaner had seemed to spend more time on his satellite phone than off it, always near the bow or the stern, out of earshot. Whatever he was cooking up, he didn’t want Amaury to know about it.
But Amaury had been doing a little cooking of his own. He’d come up with a scheme that would allow him to corner the market on these little monkeys. All commerce was ruled by supply and demand. Low supply and high demand pushed up the price. So the key was to control the supply. This would be easy when he first brought the creatures to market, but after a while, exclusive access to the island wouldn’t matter. Inevitably other dealers in exotics would buy a male and a female from him and start breeding their own. As the supply rose, competition would put downward pressure on prices.
So Amaury had come up with the idea of selling only males at first. This would not hurt the population on the island because a single male could impregnate many females. Later, as the profits started rolling in, he would import females and sell them only after he’d had them spayed.
But while selling the first primates, and establishing a market for them, he would start a breeding program. He knew from experience how labor intensive that could be with simians, but he couldn’t predict how long he’d have access to the island. He might have years, or maybe only a few months. It all depended on how fast the UN acted once it got wind of a new species that might be endangered. Usually it reacted slowly, but one never knew. He must be prepared in the event his source was shut down.
At times Amaury couldn’t help being amazed by his own brilliance.
But what was Jeukens up to?
Amaury took solace in the fact that the Afrikaner had seemed sincere when he’d said he didn’t care if the monkeys were put on the market.
“I will tell you honestly, monsieur: If you are not here on the dock Sunday morning, I must leave without you. I will regret doing so, but you must understand that I cannot let too much time pass. Who knows if someone else might stumble across the island?”
This did not seem to faze Jeukens in the least. In fact, he seemed somewhat distracted, as if this “business” he was off to was suddenly more important than the island he had been so intent on finding.
“‘Don’t think twice, it’s all right.’”
Amaury had to smile. “Even I know that one! But—”
“Truly, do not give it a second thought. If I’m not here, by all means, sail without me. I will catch up with you.”
With that he stepped onto the dock and walked away without a backward glance.
I will catch up with you…? How did he intend to do that? Hire a speedboat?
A secretive, sinister fellow, this Jeukens. Amaury would give much to know what was going on inside that bald head.