“My companion is doing all the planning,” he told her.
“I unnerstand. Are you goin’ down into the selva, the jungle, at all?”
“We might,” he murmured diffidently. “Like I said, my friend is handling our itinerary.”
“You really don’ want to go there. It is miserable, hot, and the insects will have you for breakfast if the snakes don’ kill you first.” She shook her head. “I don’ understan’ tourists. Machu Picchu, Cuzco, that I understan’. But why anyone would want to pile into a plane and go to Puerto Maldonado to sweat like pigs to see some macaws, that is jus’ crazy. We who live here have more sense than that.” She stared evenly at him.
“The only people who go into the selva do so for money: gold prospectors, oil engineers, poachers. An’ all of them would rather be someplace else. For many of them the selva is their last chance. Why would anyone go there who doesn’ have to?”
“Why do people go to zoos?” Carter finished his coffee. “As for me, I’m one of those people who like looking at animals.”
She shook her head disparagingly. “The animals in the selva don’ just look back. Most of them bite. Take my advice and look at the ruins instead. It’s safer.” She rose and he reflexively echoed the movement. It wasn’t often he had the chance to say good night to a dinner companion eye-to-eye.
“Maybe I see you around Cuzco,” she told him. “You goin’ to be at this hotel for a while?”
“As far as I know,” he replied truthfully.
“Okay. You don’ mind my talking to you, do you? All I want is to talk, not to sleep with you.”
Her bluntness delighted him. “Fine by me. The altitude makes me dizzy anyway.”
“I could make you dizzier.” She favored him with a strange, tight little smile. “But that I can have anytime. Good conversation is much harder to come by. Maybe I see you here again tomorrow night.”
“Maybe. Good night.”
“Buenas noches.”
He followed her with his eyes as she marched out of the restaurant. So did the maitre d’ and the remaining waiter. So did the clerk at the front desk. With her beauty, height, and regal bearing she would have turned heads in Manhattan.
It was exhausting simply to sit and listen to her and he discovered that he was suddenly very tired. The elevator carried him to the third and top floor. There was no action from the phone, no knock on the door as he undressed and readied himself for bed. The flight from Lima, the altitude, and the tea combined to counteract the effects of the after-dinner coffee and he quickly fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
He sensed the movement before he came fully awake: something small and active in the darkness at the foot of his bed. The rapid return of consciousness was accompanied by memories of every television documentary he’d ever seen on South American wildlife: enormous snakes, smaller venomous reptiles, giant bird-eating spiders, and lethal scorpions. They crawled and slithered through his mind in rapid succession, as clear and sharp and immediate as if he were scrolling through a CD-ROM encyclopedia.
Blinking furiously to clear sleep from his eyes, he lifted his head just enough to see a dark silhouette fumbling under the blanket near his feet. Uttering a silent curse, he jerked his body into a sitting position, back against the headboard, his knees drawn up close to his chest. Swinging his legs to his right he slipped out of the bed and looked around wildly for a weapon.
Clutching the dressing-table chair in one hand he cautiously approached the foot of the bed. By now his eyes had grown accustomed to the dim light. With his free hand he snatched convulsively at the blanket, prepared to retreat into the bathroom if necessary, and yanked it aside.
A dark, four-legged shape exploded off the sheet and vanished under the dresser.
Carter let out a long, relieved sigh and put the chair down, embarrassed at his initial panic. Slipping into his robe, he got down on hands and knees to peer beneath the dresser. A pair of bright close-set eyes stared back at him.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. “Believe me, kitty, you surprised me more than I surprised you. Come on,” he said coaxingly. “Come on out. I won’t hurt you.”
His persistence finally drew forth a querulous meow, followed by the emergence of a dainty black and white feline form. At first he thought it was only a kitten, later saw that it was simply a very small but fully adult female.
The head jerked back as he reached for it, then slowly slipped beneath his patient fingers. Soon he was stroking the animal as though he’d known it for years. The cat slid her spine contentedly back and forth against his hand. Nor did she offer any resistance when he picked her up and placed her in his lap as he sat down in the chair. She turned a few circles, finally collapsing into a black and white spiral against his robe as he scratched her behind her ears.
“Now, how did you get in here?” He glanced at the window which opened onto the cylindrical three-story-high atrium. “Did you come in that way?”
The animal wore no collar, which didn’t surprise him. A third-world city like Cuzco would be full of strays. Despite that and some basic scruffiness she was pretty clean. He could find no evidence of injury or infection and at this altitude fleas would find it hard to make a living.
Calling the front desk never crossed his mind. If the animal wasn’t a house cat the appalled staff would instantly put her back on the street, if not worse. He didn’t want to see that happen. Though he’d always liked animals, as a traveling adult he’d never had the time to take care of one.
A sharp rap on the door punctuated Ashwood’s query. “You up, cuddles?”
“Yeah! Just be a minute, Marjorie.” He rose and gently set the cat on his abandoned pillow. “Be quiet now,” he instructed the animal softly as he headed for the door.
Ashwood stood in the hall, fully dressed and anxious to go. “Y’all ain’t ready. You were supposed to be ready.”
“Sorry. My wake-up call was unexpectedly early.”
“Who was it? The basketball player? Look, I don’t care what you do on your own, Carter, but if you plan on stickin’ with me on this little hike you will be ready each morning to depart on time.”
“Actually a lady is involved, but not the one you’re thinking of.” He smiled. “Why don’t you come in and say good morning to her?”
Ashwood was taken aback. “Hey, I don’t have the slightest interest in your …”
“Don’t be shy, Marjorie.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her in.
Ashwood looked around warily. “Where is she?”
“In the bed. Where else?” Carter’s smile widened.
His companion looked in spite of herself. Then she muttered something under her breath. “Oh, you should definitely be doing stand-up, Carter. Where’d that come from?”
“I have no idea. I thought maybe through the inside window.” He sat down by the head of the bed and began stroking the animal. It stirred in its sleep. “She got under the foot of my blanket and woke me up. I want to tell you, I nearly made it back to Lima without the plane.”
“What are you gonna do with it?” Ashwood shifted impatiently from one foot to the other. “We’ve got to get moving.”
