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A little after sunrise, Nigel stepped out of his hotel room to find a basket containing a cloth bundle laid at the doorstep. Devi emerged from her adjacent room in the two-story, open fronted building, immediately saying, "Don't touch!"
Given the locked gate in the fence surrounding the hotel's parking lot, with the only other entrance being directly into the office, whoever had delivered the basket had to be known to, and trusted by the hotel's night staff. Even now, a drowsy-looking woman crossed to the gate to unlock and pull it open.
The odor of cinnamon and butter rose toward him, and his stomach growled, but he complied meekly with Devi's command, hoping to stay in her good graces lest he finally push her too far and lose her completely. Even though nobody had tried to kill him lately, he did not doubt but that they'd be along shortly. Besides, he needed the extra hands for cameras, if nothing else. His ankle throbbed, in spite of its wrapping, and his right shoulder ached from the awkward position of supporting the woman in the car. He'd taken some tablets already, but they seemed to take forever to dull the pain.
Meantime, Devi stalked around the basket, examining it from all angles, then finally hunkered down and reached for the note lying on top. She lifted it slowly, slowly, as if it might be the trigger to a bomb. Apparently satisfied the note itself must be harmless, she handed it over, and Nigel opened the fold.
He translated aloud for Devi's benefit while she opened the cloth with the tip of her knife, presumably in case of snakes. "'Dear sir, thank you for finding my husband and daughter on the island. They might have been stuck a long time without you and your friends. I have treats for them also!' and there's an address where Gator, et al, should retrieve their goodies." He smiled down at her. "It seems not everyone objects to rescue."
She made no reply, but the back of her shoulders arched a little. "Looks clear."
"Smells exquisite!" The laptop tucked under his arm, Nigel pounced on the basket of pastries, still warm. "Or shall I let you try one first and wait half an hour in case of poison?" He held them out to her.
"It's not a bad idea." She snatched a large roll shaped like a shell with a swirl of icing on top, and took a big bite.
Her eyes rolled back and she gave a moan, her body slumping.
"Good lord! Are you all right?"
Nigel's flinch jostled the pastries, and she put out her hand to steady the basket, flashing him a smile. "Joking. It's fine."
"Gracious, woman, you may yet be the death of me, even if you're no assassin." He bit into a pastry, noting the crunch of the flaky outside, then the delicate bloom of spice across his tongue, and finally discovering a creamy filling. Chewing and swallowing, he said, "Do you suppose the baker gives lessons? If we might film them making these, it would be an excellent enticement for the private fan page."
"Turtle first, pastry later. Drop the laptop at the office, let's go." She lifted the basket from his hands. "I'll hang onto these."
Taking the note, Nigel added a little more to his own message for Monty, letting him know about the offer of goodies. No matter how he felt about the men personally—and he'd just as soon not meet them again—they had been the most part of the rescue, and truly deserved the reward. After explaining to the woman behind the counter and giving her a generous tip, Nigel left the computer and message, hurrying back to find Devi and Arryo both at the Jeep.
"We'll go to the camp," Arryo told them. "You are all right?"
"I could do with a Jacuzzi and a massage, but I don't believe those are forthcoming in this establishment."
Arryo didn't smile. "That was good work yesterday, and hard."
"Just what anyone would do." He loaded his equipment into the back and set up the camera on the dashboard.
"You think those men would do this without you? Without—"he tipped his chin toward Devi.
She popped open her door. "Why wouldn't they?"
They piled into the Jeep, and Arryo said, "Yesterday, I go to check the Alliance building, to see if there is damage, with Sofia also. Sofia is the Alliance director. She says that a stranger has come to the meetings, these two weeks. At first, he comes as a tourist, he is interested in the efforts for the whales, he says, and she tells him all the things we try. She thinks maybe he will give money for the work, sometimes the tourists will do this."
"Sounds like she got suspicious, though. Why?" Devi asked. "Also, where are we going?"
"A la derecha—to the right for fifteen miles or so, then at the next, we go left, and then there is no road."
"Excellent." Nigel devoured his pastry and selected another, then held the basket out for Arryo.
Their guide glanced down with a smile, but shook his head. "His questions. They are not tourist questions. She spoke of this before, but she doesn't say what the man is like until yesterday. A black man with a voice for the music."
That brought Nigel's head up. "Smitty."
Arryo tipped his hand one way or the other. "Creo que si. Yesterday, they seem not so bad, the other yesterday, I think they will hit Luna with Diego's boat. Señor Nigel, do they take the buggies to see Diego?"
Nigel frowned. "What do you mean?"
"They say they will go to Diego, to pay him for the boat."
"Not after they picked us up. Perhaps before?" He watched Devi as she downshifted to climb the pitted road before them.
She shook her head. "If they did, I didn't hear any word of it last night."
They drove for a long time in silence, then Arryo spoke up, "Here is the turn. Along the bottom. Further along, there are wall paintings, but a longer walk."
"Perhaps we can film there another time."
Their road had leveled out, then dipped again as a wash opened to the south-east. The early light lent a pinkish glow to the desert, but it faded away before the rough slopes grew to a ledge along one side, and a sandy, winding track to the other. Up ahead, cottonwood trees—rare in these parts—indicated the presence of water. A fine place for a camp, with shade from both trees and the overhang of the ledge behind. Streaks of guano indicated bird occupation by day, and likely bats by night, feasting on the insect life that would thrive in the variety of plant growth.
Stacked stone walls divided part of the overhang into a sleeping area with simple wood and stone furnishings, and a workshop stocked with various lengths of wood, the ground strewn with chips and shavings. They'd not been invited here to reveal Arryo's life, but Nigel made a note to inquire and see if the man would be willing to share his work.
"We now must leave the Jeep." Arryo indicated a broad patch where some darkened sand suggested other vehicles had parked before, and Devi pulled in, then prepared to deploy the handheld with its monopod. In spite of her unfamiliarity with such things when she began, she learned quickly.
"What, Nigel, no band?"
"Not this time. Sorry to disappoint! My hope is to allow the natural world to dominate this episode." He pulled on his hat and took the camera from the dash. "Shall we?"
Beneath the trees, a stone semi-circle showed where fires could be lit, with a few metal rods and implements nearby for processing and cooking game. Partial stone walls protected a deeper indent under the cliff, not large enough to be a cave, but it would provide shelter for a couple of people or their gear.
Arryo showed them around the camp, explaining, "Here, I have smoked the gophers we use in the stew." He beckoned them onward, taking his small pack, and they followed across the dry stream bed and into the desert beyond. A shrill cheep caught their attention, and Arryo pointed, dropping low.
"Do I catch for you?"
Nigel sighted along the guide's arm and saw the small, golden brown mammal frozen some twenty yards beyond, staring at them. Bigger than a chipmunk, smaller than a marmot. "Better not. The viewers enjoy knowing what we ate, but they do get a mite squeamish about the adorable."
Putting away the bow which had already leapt to his hand, Arryo let the animal go, and continued to lead them on a winding path through the gullies and cacti. The sun beat down on them now, and little trails of perspiration trickled down his back and temples.
"How far is it?" Nigel asked.
"Not far."
Devi glanced at him. "Your ankle? You said walking in the sand made it worse."
At the question, he realized he'd been standing off-balance, favoring the leg. He held back the shrug that would only cause him more pain. "It's not the best, no, but I've wrapped it this morning." He put his best brave face on it. "I can't very well sit 'round the hotel while there's exploring to be done! Besides, we've waited a long time to meet this turtle."
"Seems like a turtle would keep you waiting."
"I shall absolutely deploy that line in my voice over."
"I shouldn't encourage you."
"Indeed not!"
"Here, here," Arryo said from the top of a rise. He gestured them onward, then vanished down the other side.
Nigel turned his camera on himself. "I begin to think our guide is a will-o-the-wisp, leading us to be lost not in a swamp, but in a desert. Where shall our quest be ended? Come along, my friends! Let us find out."
He mounted the rise, and stepped down, or rather limped, into paradise.