The plane landed roughly,careening wildly and clods of dirt and even tree branches sailed over the wings, hitting the surprisingly thin walls of the dreadful little plane. Wessy didn't seem to notice. Probably, because even though it was only eleven o'clock, he was already well-oiled. The stupendous heat of the Brazilian jungle magnified the effect of his previous potations.
The little plane finally came to rest at a tilt with one wheel jammed in a rut. The small group on board mobilized themselves, collected their grubby bags and sacks and battled each other's bulk to get to the door.
The door whomped open and clattered against the side of the plane and at that same instant, what seemed like a solid column of hot air drove it's way inside. Wessy Scopes reeled with dizziness and then steadied his stance.
Outside on the ground, they assembled. They were five, counting Scopes. The pilot, thankfully much more talented than evident at first inspection, a mercenary with an obvious fake name of Jake Smith and two native guides. Few words were exchanged as they grunted and unloaded their cargo and supplies for their continued journey up the dirty river spread out before them. They were at a small airstrip along the Purus River closer to Rio Branco than to Manaus.
Scopes had enjoyed himself in Manaus. It is an amazingly cosmopolitan city in the middle of the Amazon. Manaus , loosely translated as "Mother God" ,is a lively city of nearly two million people. It gave Scopes ideas. Perhaps, when his fortune was made,he would set up here. Forget Boston. He could take up where the rubber magnates had left off , one hundred and fifty years ago. Additionally, he would be close by to protect the source of his future fortune. Grease a few palms and keep things firmly in hand.
Back to the present. He looked over his jungle crew. Smith ,so-called ,could be trouble. Greed and duplicity are integral to sociopaths . He would have to be careful to not let slip the true reason for this little sortie. He was sure that he had sold the guy on the idea that he was a distracted university professor looking for bugs and leaves ,strictly academic. The two Manaos, Angele and Rodo, in fact, with their supposed secret jungle knowledge might be more likely to cotton on to what he was really doing, but so what. They wouldn't know where to begin to get the connections to capitalize on what he was researching .He needed to probe them, but in a one-way street fashion. He couldn't have anyone barging in, asking for a cut.
They worked slowly, but without stopping in the heavy heat. Daylight ends at six p.m. and it took them a a full three hours to unload everything. The motors for the boats, fuel, food and some very special solar-powered refrigeration units. Scopes hovered over these,protecting them like they were fragile dishware. Smith took note, sneered in disgust and filed a little mental note about it. Maybe there would be diamonds or gold in there and this whole thing was a fraud. That was more his line of thinking.
"Scopes are you planning on baking some cookies with those things?"
"I didn't pay you for commentary Smith. Academics is for me." retorted Scopes.
"OK,OK."
They went back to their labours ,without further discussions. The pilot had to leave, while there was still daylight. He was the only one who knew that they were here or even that they existed. They were depending on him and his need for two thousand dollars to ship them out in a few days.
By four 'clock, the plane was in the air. They were setting up for the night and in twelve hours they would be on their botanical adventure. They tuned up their GPSS and satellite phone. Both Smith and Scopes secretly checked their personal "protection".
Go to chapter 5
