| |
The moment the door shut, Nigel slid the laptop in front of him and revived it. He brought up the overnight video in his viewing program. No need to watch the first part. He shifted the slider several hours in, the screen refreshing in little jumps as he moved the scrollbar: tiny figures chased across the sand and back. The pile of firewood grew, the flames licking up as the scene grew dark around it. The sun tumbled down the sky, growing rosy among streaks of cloud. Figures shifted around the fire, lapsing in and out of view.
Flick, shorter than the others, could be identified readily enough regardless of the changing light. Likewise, Joe with his pale hair and lean physique. Gator's own hairstyle—a bit longer than the others—stood out as well. Devi, of course, the only woman. Nigel with his lanky figure and signature hat. Smitty at first seemed obvious, but as darkness grew he became less distinguishable from either Monty or Tyrone, all three of them with short hair, broad shoulders, of similar height. If Nigel went to the start and watched how they moved, with a dancer's eye, he'd likely pick up more differences. For now, this was enough.
Food was eaten, bottles hoisted to gleam in the firelight, and finally, Nigel slowed the playback, seeing his own and Devi's figures vanish from the scene. Joe crossed from fire to stones, barely discernible once he arrived there. Gator followed, Flick so close beside him their figures merged then separated. Two more men followed.
The laptop's seventeen inch screen didn't allow for as much detail as he'd like. Nigel tweaked the viewer, zooming in on the five figures. They shifted closer, then separated, becoming harder to distinguish thanks to darkness and distance as they left the fire behind. They took strange poses, stumbling back, arms raised, playing catch? throwing something? All the figures converged by the water. Firelight glinted on the waves, then the light picked out sharper ripples indicating stronger activity disrupting the tide.
Of a certainty, the men moved in the water, though he couldn't tell what they were doing—the camera stood too far back. With full-featured software, he might draw more from the shadowy movements, but that software also devoured computer space and its usage ate power he didn't always have access to in remote places. The slim-line laptop he'd brought this far didn't have everything, hence the uploads for his assistant.
A man emerged from the water again, moving back toward the bonfire. One man remained by the fire, coming to meet him. One by one, three more men returned. Bottles again lifted into the failing, crimson light. Five men around a fire, drinking to what? To the soul of the sixth, the one who hadn't returned.
The door opened, and Nigel leapt up, knocking over his chair, his hands raised in self-defense.
"Just me," Devi said, closing the door. "What's the matter?"
He propped his hands on the table, struggling for breath. "They did it, Devi. They did it."
He gasped, trying to open his lungs, to slow his racing heart. "They did it, and I have it on film."