“When’s that?” Jack asked.

“February and March,” Esteban said.

“That’s convenient,” Jack said. “Because Laurie and I are thinking of going tomorrow night.”

“What?” Warren spoke for the first time since they’d arrived at Esteban’s apartment. He’d not been privy to Jack and Lou’s conversation. “I thought me and Natalie were going out on the town with you guys this weekend. I’ve already told Natalie.”

“Ohhhh!” Jack commented. “I forgot about that.”

“Hey, man, you gotta wait ’til after Saturday night, otherwise I’m in deep shit, you know what I’m saying. I told you how much she’s been ragging on me to see you guys.”

In his euphoric mood Jack had another suggestion. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you and Natalie come along with Laurie and me to Equatorial Guinea? It will be our treat.”

Laurie blinked. She wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly.

“Man, what are you talking about?” Warren said. “You’re out’a your friggin’ mind. You’re talking about Africa.”

“Yeah, Africa,” Jack said. “If Laurie and I have to go, we might as well make it as fun as possible. In fact, Esteban, why don’t you and your wife come, too? We’ll make it a party.”

“Are you serious?” Esteban asked.

Laurie’s expression was equally as incredulous.

“Sure, I’m serious,” Jack said. “The best way to visit a country is to go with someone who used to live there. That’s no secret. But tell me, do we all need visas?”

“Yes, but the Equatorial Guinean Embassy is here in New York,” Esteban said. “Two pictures, twenty-five dollars, and a letter from a bank saying you’re not poor gets you a visa.”

“How do you get to Equatorial Guinea?” Jack asked.

“For Bata the easiest is through Paris,” Esteban said. “From Paris there is daily service to Douala, Cameroon. From Douala there’s daily service to Bata. You can go through Madrid, too, but that’s only twice a week to Malabo on Bioko.”

“Sounds like Paris wins out,” Jack said gaily.

“Teodora!” Esteban called out to his wife in the kitchen. “You’d better come in here.”

“You’re crazy, man,” Warren said to Jack. “I knew it the first day you walked out on that basketball court. But, you know something, I’m beginning to like it.”

CHAPTER 17

MARCH 7, 1997

6:15 A.M.

COGO, EQUATORIAL GUINEA

KEVIN’S alarm went off at six-fifteen. It was still completely dark outside. Emerging from his mosquito net, he turned on the light to find his robe and slippers. A cottony feeling in his mouth and a mild bitemporal headache reminded him of the wine he’d drunk the night before. With a shaky hand he took a long drink of the water he had at his bedside. Thus fortified, he set out on shaky legs to knock on his guest rooms’ doors.

The previous night, he and the women had decided that it made sense for Melanie and Candace to spend the night. Kevin had plenty of room, and they all agreed being together would make the departure in the morning far easier and probably elicit less attention. Consequently, at about eleven p.m., amid lots of laughter and gaiety, Kevin had driven the women to their respective quarters to collect their overnight necessities, a change of clothes, and the food they’d gotten from the commissary.

While the women had been packing, Kevin had made a quick detour to his lab to get the locator, the directional beacon, a flashlight, and the contour map.

On each guest room door, Kevin had to knock twice. Once quite softly, and when there was no response, he rapped more vigorously until he heard a response. He sensed the women were hungover, especially after it took them significantly longer than they planned to show up in the kitchen. Both of them poured themselves a mug of coffee and drank the first cup without conversation.

After breakfast they all revived significantly. In fact, as they emerged from Kevin’s house they felt exhilarated, as if they were setting off on a holiday. The weather was as good as could be expected in that part of the world. Dawn was breaking and the pink and silver sky was generally clear overhead. To the south, there was a line of small puffy clouds. On the horizon to the west, there were ominous purple storm clouds, but they were way out over the ocean and would most likely stay there for the day.

As they walked toward the waterfront, they were enthralled by the profusion of bird life. There were blue turacos, parrots, weaverbirds, African fish eagles, and a kind of African blackbird. The air was filled with their color and shrieks.

The town seemed deserted. There were no pedestrians or vehicles, and the homes were still shuttered against the night. The only person they saw was a local mopping the floor in the Chickee Hut Bar.

They walked out on the impressive pier GenSys had built. It was twenty feet wide and six feet high. The rough-hewn planks were wet from the humid night air. At the end of the pier, there was a wooden ramp that led down to a floating dock. The dock seemed to be mysteriously suspended; the surface of the perfectly calm water was hidden by a layer of mist that extended as far as the eye could see.

As the women had promised, there was a motorized thirty-foot-long pirogue languidly moored to the end of the dock. Long ago, it had been painted red with a white interior, but the paint had faded or had been scraped off in large areas. A thatched roof supported by wooden poles extended over three-quarters of the boat’s length. Under the shelter were benches. The motor was an antique Evinrude outboard. Tethered to the stern was a small canoe with four narrow benches extending from gunwale to gunwale.

“Not bad, eh?” Melanie said, as she grabbed the mooring line and pulled the boat to the dock.

“It’s bigger than I expected,” Kevin said. “As long as the motor keeps going, we should be fine. I wouldn’t want to paddle it very far.”

“Worst-case scenario we float back,” Melanie said undaunted. “After all, we are going upriver.”

They got the gear and food aboard. While Melanie continued to stand on the pier, Kevin made his way to the stern to examine the motor. It was self-explanatory with instructions written in English. He put the throttle on start and pulled the cord. To his utter surprise, the engine started. He motioned for Melanie to hop in, shifted the motor into forward, and they were off.

As they pulled away from the pier, they all looked back at Cogo to see if anyone took note of their departure. The only person they saw was the lone man cleaning the Chickee Hut, and he didn’t bother to look in their direction.

As they had planned, they motored west as if they were going to Acalayong. Kevin advanced the throttle to half-open and was pleased at the speed. The pirogue was large and heavy but it had very little draw. He checked the canoe they had in tow; it was riding easily in the water.

The sound of the motor made conversation difficult so they were content to enjoy the scenery. The sun had yet to come up, but the sky was brighter and the eastern ends of the cumulus clouds over Gabon were edged in gold. To their right, the shoreline of Equatorial Guinea appeared as a solid mass of vegetation that abruptly dumped into the water. Dotted about the wide estuary were other pirogues moving ghostlike through the mist that still layered the surface of the water.

When Cogo had fallen significantly astern, Melanie tapped Kevin on the shoulder. Once she had his attention, she made a wide sweeping motion with her hand. Kevin nodded and began to steer the boat to the south.

After traveling south for ten minutes, Kevin began a slow turn to the west. They were now at least a mile offshore, and when they passed Cogo, it was difficult to make out specific buildings.

When the sun did finally make its appearance, it was a huge ball of reddish gold. At first, the equatorial mists were so dense that the sun could be examined directly without the need to shield one’s eyes. But the heat of the sun began to evaporate the mist which, in turn, rapidly made the sun’s rays stronger. Melanie was the first to slip on her sunglasses, but Candace and Kevin quickly did the same. A few minutes later, everyone began to peel off layers of clothing they’d donned against the comparative morning chill.