The Source - Michael Cordy [62]
'But, Father General, this will delay us by a day. Are you sure they're necessary?'
'I understood from the Holy Father that you were committed to helping me fulfil my mission unquestioningly. Is that your understanding, too, Feldwebel?'
'Yes, it is, Father General.'
'Then I suggest you do exactly as I ask. And, trust me, these extra precautions are as much for your benefit as mine.' Torino glanced up at the sun and basked in its warmth. The Lord was smiling down on him. Then his eyes dropped to the screen in his hand, the dot moving north-east. 'Hurry,' he said. 'I want to leave within twenty-four hours.'
34
Over the next few days, as the Discovery sailed down the Amazon, Ross became increasingly concerned about Sister Chantal. Since the attack she had been steadily withdrawing into herself. As each day passed, she was increasingly distant and spent more and more time in her cabin.
Every day they navigated by the compass bearings in Falcon's book, and every night they followed his star charts. On day three, they reached two small headlands that appeared to curve towards each other as they rose above the jungle: Los Cuernos del Toro, the Bull's Horns.
Here, Falcon's directions instructed them to turn off the reassuring main river into the maze of tributaries. Directly linked to the Amazon, they were large rivers in their own right, and bore signs of man's encroachment. In small villages, which a few years ago would have been untroubled by the modern world, they saw children wearing baseball caps and T-shirts, playing with the ubiquitous oil-company tennis balls. Even further into the forest they saw vast areas being cleared for oil pipelines: men wearing bright yellow hard hats were operating bright yellow earthmovers, cutting swathes through the emerald green jungle, exposing earth as red as a bloody wound.
'Bastards,' said Zeb. 'Can't they see what they're doing? Why is everybody in the oil business so fucking short-sighted?'
'Because the world needs oil,' retorted Ross. 'Almost everything we use – everything you use, Zeb – comes from petroleum products. Shampoo, toothpaste, lip balm, non-stick frying-pans, CDs and DVDs, golf balls, not to mention everything made from any type of plastic.'
'But what about the consequences? When will the world decide that the remaining jungle is more precious than oil?'
He couldn't answer that. If Lauren could see this she would be as horrified as Zeb was. It shocked him, too. He knew that man had eroded a vast proportion of rainforest in the last few years; he had read the statistics. But seeing it at close quarters, how efficiently their machines cut through the trees, made him understand why Sister Chantal had been so concerned about preserving the garden. How much longer would it be before those yellow earthmovers reached it? Assuming, of course, it existed.
Eventually they found themselves in virgin forest, and as the boat wound through the narrowing waterways Juarez called from the wheelhouse: 'Don't swim in the water here.'
'Why?' asked Zeb. 'Piranha?'
'Worse. Candiru.'
'What?'
Hackett grimaced. 'Tiny catfish. They're really nasty creatures, especially if you're a bloke. That's why I put condoms on your list.'
'I don't understand,' said Ross.
'A candiru will swim up the urethra, open the spines on its head like an umbrella and anchor itself halfway up the penis, blocking it so you can't piss. Forget the horrific pain. Without surgery – major surgery – your bladder will burst and you'll die. Not a nice way to go.'
Unconsciously Ross crossed his legs – as did every man on board.
As they moved deeper into the maze, the back of his neck tingled, as if unseen eyes were watching him constantly from the jungle. Not one pair but thousands. He flapped