Through the velvet-thick mist, Dr. Vivian Prado could barely make out the figure of her husband where he stood holding her hand. Still, she could easily perceive the dark stains that pooled like four small ponds and trickled away toward the nearby river like tributaries of damnation. Even after her many years of study, her medical training, and her acclimation to the sometimes-vicious ways of the indigenous peoples of the Amazon, her stomach heaved at the realization of what now lay before her. Like a naïve child, she turned and pressed her face into her husband's shoulder.

“It wasn't the tribes,” Dr. Bernardo Prado insisted. “This is civilized killing.”

“Civilized killing?” Vivian peered up at her husband with incredulity.

“Ironic. We call ourselves civilization, yet when it comes down to it, their spears and knives are no less civilized than ours. Maybe we have to hide our murder more deeply, which I guess is a virtue, but murder still occurs.”

Vivian turned her back completely on the horrific scene. “Why do you say it is not the tribes? I'm sorry – I can't look. Were there gunshots?”

“No gunshots,” Bernardo replied, his accent thickening with emotion. “It's just that the tribes would not leave the bodies here. Every killing by a tribe is for a purpose, and they tend to parade their victims. The killing here -” Bernardo stepped forward, gently nudging the neck of one of the victims with a long branch that he picked up from nearby. “It mimics a tribal method, so whoever did this wanted to throw any investigation off of his trail.”

With a heavy sigh, Vivian moved further back down the path, and she heard Bernardo stand to his feet and follow. “We have to tell the authorities,” she acceded.

“Even though they will shut down the project for months...”

“Would you prefer,” Vivian glanced over at him, “that we continue until someone does this to us?” She saw him shake his head from the corner of her eye.

“We need to call Arthur. The company will want to report it to the authorities.”

“But who would do this?” she wondered, hoping Bernardo could offer some logic from his highly reasonable mind.

“Well,” he began, adopting his analytical tone, “most of the ideas I can construct involve a large measure of conjecture – nigh unto conspiratorial conjecture.”

“So, hypothesize. I'm the only one here.”

He paused to gather his bearings as he broke through into the clearing of their camp. Before he continued, he led Vivian to the tent, opening the flap for her before starting to gather his things into his pack. “Peruvian government, cartels, gangs, business opposition – not local hoodlums. They would not bother mimicking the tribes.”

When Vivian whistled incredulously, Bernardo turned back to her. “You and Elsa take Lily and head back to Iquitos. I'll finish cleaning up here, and you can send Aaron back with the Jeep.”

Even before he could finish, Vivian had begun shaking her head. “I'm not leaving you here alone.”

“I won't be alone. Several of the natives have offered to help; I'll pay them for their aid using the leftover rations from our camp. You have to get Lily out of here. It's five hours until sunset. Aaron can get me out before dark.”

Moving back to the door of her tent, Vivian glanced first out at the sun, gauging its distance from the horizon, then at the native women who milled busily around the courtyard. “If you tell the women, will they bring their men or will they run away and leave you alone?”

“I won't tell them; I'll make up an excuse to get the men here. Whoever killed those men back there want to cover their tracks. The only way they would be able to attack me with all the villagers around would have to make use of heavy artillery, and whoever went to such lengths to mask the other deaths won't risk that. So, you see?” He lifted her heavy pack followed by Elsa's and then Lily's into the back of the Jeep. “I will be fine, and you will get Lily out.”

Vivian sighed but nodded, finally conceding his point. “And you have the sat phone?” she queried. In response, Bernardo reached into his own pack which he had set down on the ground near the tire of the vehicle. “Good,” Vivian pursed her lips. “Please be careful,” she begged.

Somehow suppressing his usual sense of cool rationality, Bernardo reached his hand up to caress his wife's face. “I love you, querida,” he whispered, kissing her gently before helping her into the car. “Please, do not worry over me.”

“I will,” she countered, “but I trust you, so I will see you tonight.”

“Hasta la noche,” Bernardo agreed, and Vivian shifted the car into drive, soon losing sight of her husband through the mists of the Amazon.

+++++++++++

Isaac smiled at the chaos around him. For two years, he had played at analysis, a boon handed to him for being the son of a military commander. Before that, he had scraped through five years of CIA field work, and he had thought he hated it. Problem was, unless he managed to stay in recruitment, the Company would ship him off to some oversees pit – Isaac preferred the good old U. S. of A. He just wished he could figure out how to utilize all the skills he had found at his disposal when he had to worry less about the law. Still, standing in the middle of a throng of partiers, Isaac remembered how he missed humanity, and he wondered if he should step out from behind the desk before he aged out of the possibility. A beach full of imbibing college students brought back pleasant memories from before his time in the field. He was clever – he could just figure out how to use his skills state-side.

True, he probably didn’t need to waste so much energy on a recruiting someone as a favor, but it had been a particular request by a veterano, a key contact too important to ignore. The cousins. Famous for getting out, for outsmarting the screeners. The older cousin had somehow hidden the younger until the opportunity was missed. The contact was both pissed and impressed, and he wanted to try to force their compliance now or make them pay. The younger cousin had moved off to one the most prestigious schools in the country, well out of the reach of his neighborhood. Then the older cousin disappeared, only recently to reappear within the Company. Isaac would bring in the younger cousin, too, then conscript the pair to the proper location. After that, Isaac wouldn’t let himself worry overmuch. Even if the higher-ups at the Company claimed to frown upon blurred ethical lines, the guys in the field knew the impossibility of maintaining all the highest principles. This contact was worth a little extra effort – he would make it work Isaac’s effort with information or kickbacks.

The fact that Isaac’s current effort involved his favorite form of espionage, the honey trap, created a double benefit to himself. And his very pretty target now pressed into the throng before him, a strange openness and pleasure in her countenance as she peered around at the mayhem. Isaac had definitely stayed at a desk for too long.

By the time Piper Hayes made it to the Bay campus and onto the beaches, the sun streamed from directly overhead. Unlike in her hometown of Atlanta, though, direct sunlight proved rather favorable for an outdoor event in Rhode Island. She tried not to rejoice that Ben’s professor had changed a test to coincide exactly with the Sci Fry, but for at least two reasons, she celebrated the fact. First of all, it meant that she got to attend the event without worrying whether Ben would try to pretend he was her boyfriend. In the same vein, because Ben wasn’t there to pretend to be her boyfriend, Piper could seek out another guy to hang out with without any qualms.

She did not rejoice, however, that Molly had to appease her mother with a senior year photo shoot, which meant that Piper had to meet Rory alone. Piper had very much counted on getting Molly’s opinion of the new acquaintance from her calamitous encounter a few days before.

As she had the thought, Piper glanced up at the sound of her name. Butterflies danced in her stomach when she encountered the smiling face of Rory. The sun had lit his copper hair to flame where he stood, and Piper had to grin – he was adorable in too many ways. Of course, Piper held the ability to think most people adorable, and she could appreciate all variations of attractiveness. It helped that Rory stood over six feet tall and wore the broad shoulders of a man who had fully passed boyhood. He must exercise religiously, too, with the clearly defined ridges that showed along his arms and through the chest of his T-shirt.

Piper, though, was not so shallow as to make her decisions based on superficial good looks. If she were, the chestnut-toned muscles of Ben Myers would have sent Piper swooning. Certainly, the effect worked on Molly, but Piper just found nothing in common with Ben. For one, he came from so much money that the discrepancy between him and herself showed in the very clothes they wore, much less the vehicles they drove and the houses they lived in. Ben played the playboy at every opportunity – though Piper would have trusted him for a lot of important responsibilities, her heart was not one of those.

Something about Rory rang down-to-earth, like he knew the difficulties of life and looked them in the eye. Piper respected that. Possibly, it was just the difference in the five or so years that Rory had grown beyond the frat-boy, Ben. Piper honestly hoped so, because she liked Ben otherwise. He might even deserve Molly if he turned a tad more responsible.

“Got us some ice cream, if that’s okay,” Rory offered, and Piper found herself pleased at the attention.

“Chocolate chip is my favorite,” Piper smiled. “Great guess.”

Rory smiled his acknowledgement. You mean great research…

“Did Ben ever contact you about tutoring?” she pressed.

“No word from him. Which turned out okay because my schedule really filled up this week, what with the last test before finals about to happen.” For Isaac, his alias as a grad student coincided nicely with his friendship with a few professors at Brown. Need a test changed to create a conflict or free up someone’s schedule? No worries.

“Good for you, I imagine.”

“Good for me.”

For the next two hours, Piper and Rory strolled through the booths at the event. Besides scientific displays put on by the various departments, they encountered a veritable buffet of sci-fi pop culture, almost as enjoyable as a convention due to the college enthusiasm for cosplay and canon and everything that spelled over-the-top enthusiasm. Piper didn’t participate, but she greatly enjoyed other people’s excitement. Rory said that he tended more to space fiction, and Piper tended toward fantasy, but each held the ability to appreciate the other’s zeal for a topic. Except for a strange vibe that Rory gave off, Piper found herself pleased with his company.

Isaac, on the other hand, needed all of his faculties to pull of the Rory persona. If he were honest with himself, he would have to admit that he hadn’t expect Piper to hold so much intelligence. Not only that, but she bore a healthier-than-normal skepticism and sense of self-preservation that rendered her difficult to ensnare in an easy attraction.

I’ll just be happy if she gives me her number. He already had her number, of course, but he couldn’t call it or text her until she willingly gave it to him.

When they finally wound up literally falling all over each other after a game of beach volleyball, Isaac saw his first hint of her attraction to him. Thank god, he sighed. He needed to get the ball rolling soon. When he helped her to her feet, their game over, he raised his hand to her arm and escorted her back to the booth closest to the beach, one that conveniently served mixed drinks.

Sunset painting the sky? Check. Temperature dropping requiring proximity for warmth? Check. Alcohol-induced reduction of inhibitions? Check. Conditions worked right, as Isaac had planned.

All the conditions except Piper.

Piper did not lean close enough for him to put his arm around her. Piper did not want anything to drink. Piper did comment on the colors that danced on the water, but her appreciation of nature did not translate into romantic notions Damn, I really wanted a piece of that.

If he could have isolated her, gotten her to a remote location, he could have worked on her more convincingly. Even if not, but if he had more time, he could have created an alias and seduced her – he liked a challenge. Unfortunately, his current assignment did not really involve her outside of trying to manipulate someone else, so he would have to content himself with a more superficial inroad – one which she had not yet provided.

Finally, she did offer him one very small boon. “I have to run – I’m taking care of my friends’ kid tonight,” she offered apologetically, “but I just realized that I never sent you my number.” She pulled up her phone, and a couple of seconds later, Isaac’s burner phone vibrated. When he raised it to see, it read, “Piper Hayes.” He made a show of saving the number, and Piper offered him a friendly smile in return. No reason he couldn’t keep up his playing with her in his free time; he had free time, though he didn’t usually use it for anything but work.

“So, next time you come to campus,” Piper continued, “hopefully when you’re not there to see your ex – we can grab coffee.”

“Sounds like a date,” Isaac agreed, and with a wave of her hand, Piper turned and made her way off the beach and out of Isaac’s reach. Well, at least until he was done with the cousins, Isaac could find enough reasons to justify keeping her in his sights.

++++++++++

The first thing State Senator Rick Connors became aware of was the wooden arm of the chair poking into his back. As the sensation aroused him from sleep, his sweat stuck the cheap fake leather to every inch of exposed skin, and his left leg had cramped under the weight of his body where it had pressed into the seat.

How hard is it to buy a comfortable recliner, he complained silently. Then the steady beep made its way into his brain, and he turned to take in the recumbent form of his daughter where it lay, frail, upon the hospital bed. Selfish bastard, he upbraided himself. How long had he lain in that chair, wedged in like a cat in a bottle? Maybe six hours? Little Charlie had floated in and out of hospitals for the past three of her five years on earth, and no hospital bed could offer much comfort. Add to that the medications and the needles and the cancer itself – no complaint Rick could ever make could compare to the hardship of his daughter during just one hour of her life.

Fibrolamellar hepatocellular carcinoma.

It didn't really matter that Charlie wasn't supposed to get the disease until she was at least twelve or thirteen. It didn't really matter that chemotherapy didn't seem to work well on the tumor. It didn't matter that she had endured twelve surgeries to remove portions of the tumor that had metastasized from her liver into other portions of her abdomen. It only mattered that his girl get better and that her pain stop. What would all the pain accomplish if she didn't get to go live life and explore the world that she had spent the first five years shut away from?

Though the last bout had proven particularly rough, Charlie had spent most of her childhood in some form of treatment or another. This time, she had lain in her hospital bed for over three weeks, most of the time unable to feed herself or sit up for more than a few minutes. The sparkle had slowly left her eyes, her hair had gradually fallen out, her frame had grown thinner and thinner until the bones stuck out at exaggerated angles. If she had gotten the disease when she was supposed to, she would have been able to come in for treatments, stay for a few hours or days, then go home. At her age, though, and in her already weakened state, she needed round the clock care. Her growth had stunted from all of the drugs and lack of nutrition, and whatever happened, she would grow up petite and diminutive – if she grows up at all, Rick lamented. He pushed the morose thought from his mind.

Charlie Connors would grow up – State Senator Rick Connors would make sure of it. Picking up his phone, he punched in the number of, Darren Bakir, his contact at the DoD.