She did not know what she was going to do when she — when they — found Ben. Just before Inez arrived Alfredo had telephoned to say that he had heard from the driver at the institute who was replacing him that Ben had been taken to the bad place. Alfredo told Teresa to come to where he was, a room in a house not far from the institute, in a village. They would decide how to rescue Ben together.

The drive up into the hills was a silent one. Teresa watched Inez's profile, kept towards her, cold, pure, hostile — and guilty. She was afraid of a trap: did Inez plan to kidnap her too? To stop her helping Ben? Suddenly — she had not known she was going to come out with it — Teresa asked Inez just this, and Inez began to cry, and said that she, Teresa, was unjust and cruel — Inez had not kidnapped Ben, had she?

When they reached where Alfredo had said she must be set down, Inez stopped the car, and heard Teresa say, as she got out, 'Tell them they have done a wrong thing. It's wrong. The police could punish them. You tell them.'

Inez had no intention of saying anything, hoping only that her absence had not been noted.

Teresa stood in rutted dust on the edge of a track, the sun beating down on her, and saw Alfredo coming from a little house. Their smiles at each other spoke from a dimension far from their anxieties over Ben, and he put his arm around her as he walked her to his room.

It was now afternoon, about three o'clock. Alfredo knew where Ben was and told Teresa about it. He said they should go there as soon as it was properly dark. At night there was no one at The Cages — but there might be tonight, because of Ben. He was drugged, the other driver had said. He had heard Luiz and the American talking, in the car. Luiz was in two minds about what was happening: it was the word 'passport' that had reached him. Stephen was determined to keep hold of Ben. 'He's a bit mad, that one,' said this man, Antonio, Alfredo's friend. 'He's like a dog with a bone. He's got it and he's going to keep it.' Antonio knew The Cages better than Alfredo did. He said a good pair of wire-cutters would be needed, and the first thing must be to cut the wire of the alarm, which went to the main office building where there was a guard all night. And after that, what did Alfredo intend to do? Alfredo told him. Antonio then said he himself must be included in any plan for getting away because he would certainly lose his so recently acquired job.

Plans were what Teresa and Alfredo now discussed. If they could get Ben right away from Rio they believed pursuit would not follow. Alfredo told Teresa that if there was a pursuit then the British representatives in Rio must be alerted. Teresa listened with interest while she heard how citizens in foreign countries might be protected from local harm. She had never imagined such a degree of concern by a government for a little person, such as herself. But they were up against a madman, the American professor. She was not surprised to hear that Antonio had said he was mad: she had thought he was. She could easily see again that big protruding mouth, pushing out words at her while the green eyes stared unseeing, for the man's attention was all inwards, on his obsession.

'Is it important?' she asked Alfredo. 'Is it important to know what Ben is?'

'They say he must be a throwback to — a long time ago. A long time. Thousands of years. They can find out from him what those old people were like.'

The idea did attract Teresa, but it was in a different part of her from her passionate concern for Ben. She thought that she felt towards him like she would a child — something helpless, at any rate. She did not care about those old people. She loved poor Ben.

During that talk, in the hot bare room, drinking Coca-Cola, they reminded each other that there was an immediate and shocking problem. Ben believed that Alfredo knew where Ben's people were.

'We've got to tell him,' said Teresa, remembering Ben's delight, and how his whole being seemed to enlarge and thrill with his thoughts about them. Even as she spoke she felt herself cringe away from telling him. To say it was all an illusion, only pictures on a rock wall ... cruel, terrible. But he had to know.

'Can we take him to see the rock pictures? That would be better than nothing, don't you think so?'

'When I was working in the mines near Jujuy I went into the mountains — high up, Teresa. I like that, being by myself in the mountains. But these are high, high, high, not like ours at home. Not many people go up there. One morning I woke up — it was dark when I went to sleep — and there right in front of me were pictures on the rock. The sun was shining on to them. When the sun is shining you can see them well, but when the rock face is in shadow you can walk right past and not see them . But we've got to get there.'

Teresa knew how much money Ben had left. She had a good bit put away, but she wasn't going to use one real more of that than she had to. Alfredo had savings. There was more than enough for three cheap flights. 'No problem,' said Alfredo. 'I'll tell my friend to come and fetch us in his car. I have friends. I worked in the mines for three years. I'll get work again. I'll keep clear of Rio for a little. I had to do it before — I'll tell you, Teresa.'

Both were thinking that if he stayed to work in the mines and Teresa stayed with him then everything she had built up in Rio would go for nothing. Would there be theatre, dancing groups, film-makers, in Jujuy? she asked. Alfredo's answer was, 'I earn good money in the mines. And they know me. I could stay a year and you could wait for me in Rio.' This was the first time their understanding was put into words. 'We can marry in Jujuy, so we can be sure — and a year goes quickly.' Teresa was looking back on the three years she had been in Rio, so packed with events and people, and they seemed very long to her. 'We can talk later,' he said quickly, seeing her doubting face.

It was getting dark. Up a hill, through trees, they could see the lights of the institute. They took wire-cutters and walked quietly as if they were off to visit the living-quarters of the institute, where most of the employees lived, but went past there, and into the forest that surrounded the institute. Neither of these children of wild places feared anything in the forest. They padded quickly along a path their feet seemed to know was there, passed the main buildings of the institute, leaving them behind, and then, ahead, a few hundred yards, lights burned on a separate group of buildings. From them came yelps, calls, cries. This was a bad place: Teresa knew it, and Alfredo whispered, 'I don't like coming here.'

Where was Ben? They stood at the edge of the trees, looking at the scattered buildings and did not know where to go. Then

Teresa heard it, a low intermittent rattling, bang, bang, bang, and a rattle again. 'There he is,' said Teresa, 'he's there,' and she began running across the space of flat dust to the building. As they ran, the sound grew louder, the rattling bang. It was dark now. The light on this building was at the front, and they stole around to the back and saw windows. They were open. A foul smell came out. First Alfredo and then Teresa scrambled up over the sill. A low light was burning on the ceiling. In tiers of cages were monkeys, small and large, arranged so that the excrement from the top cages must fall down on the animals below. A bank of rabbits, immobilised at the neck, had chemicals dripping into their eyes. A big mongrel dog, which had been carved open from the shoulder to the hip bone and then clumsily sewn up again, was lying moaning on dirty straw, its backside clogged with excrement. (This dog had been cut open six months before and from time to time the wound was unpicked to see what its organs were doing, it was subjected to this drug or that, and then sewn up again like a hessian sack. The edges of the wound were in fact partly healed, in crusts, and through them could be glimpsed the palpitating organs.) From cages monkeys stretched out their hands and their human eyes begged for help. Teresa saw nothing of all this. She was looking at Ben, kneeling on the floor of his cage, bang-banging his head on the wire. He had not been drugged: Professor Stephen wanted him uncontaminated. He was unclothed, this creature who had been clothed since he was born. In the corner of his cage was a pile of dung.