They were met by Esteban’s cousin whose name was Arturo. He was a heavyset, enormously friendly individual with bright eyes and flashing teeth who shook hands enthusiastically with everyone. He was attired in native African costume: flowing robes in a colorful print and a pillbox hat.

They stepped out of the airport into the hot, humid air of equatorial Africa. The vistas in all directions seemed immense since the land was relatively flat. The late-afternoon sky was a faraway blue directly overhead, but enormous thunderheads were nestled all along the horizon.

“Man, I can’t believe this,” Warren said. He was gazing around like a kid in a toy store. “I’ve been thinking about coming here for years, but I never thought I’d make it.” He looked at Jack. “Thanks, man. Give it here!” Warren stuck out his hand. He and Jack exchanged palm slaps as if they were back on the neighborhood basketball court.

Arturo had the rented van parked at curbside. He slipped a couple of bills into the palm of a policeman and gestured for everyone to climb in.

Esteban insisted that Jack ride in the front passenger seat. Too tired to argue, Jack climbed in. The vehicle was an old Toyota with two rows of benches behind the front bucket seats. Laurie and Natalie squeezed into the very back while Warren and Esteban took the middle.

As they exited the airport they had a view out over the ocean. The beach was broad and sandy. Gentle waves lapped the shore.

After a short distance, they passed a large unfinished cement structure that was weathered and crumbling. Rusted rebars stuck out of the top like the spines of sea urchins. Jack asked what it was.

“It was supposed to be a tourist hotel,” Arturo said. “But there was no money and no tourists.”

“That’s a bad combination for business,” Jack said.

While Esteban played tour guide and pointed out various sights, Jack asked Arturo if they had far to go.

“No, ten minutes,” Arturo said.

“I understand you worked for GenSys,” Jack said.

“For three years,” Arturo said. “But no more. The manager is a bad person. I prefer to stay in Bata. I’m lucky to have work.”

“We want to tour the GenSys facility,” Jack said. “Do you think we’ll have any trouble?”

“They don’t expect you?” Arturo asked with bewilderment.

“Nope,” Jack said. “It’s a surprise visit.”

“Then you may have trouble,” Arturo said. “I don’t think they like visitors. When they repaired the only road to Cogo, they built a gate. It’s manned twenty-four hours a day by soldiers.”

“Uh-oh!” Jack said. “That doesn’t sound good.” He’d not expected restricted access to the town and had counted on being able to drive in directly. Where he expected to have trouble was getting into the hospital or the labs.

“When Esteban called to say you were going to Cogo, I thought you’d been invited,” Arturo said. “I didn’t think to mention the gate.”

“I understand,” Jack said. “It’s not your fault. Tell me, do you think the soldiers would take money to let us in?”

Arturo flashed a glance in Jack’s direction. He shrugged. “I don’t know. They’re better paid than regular soldiers.”

“How far is the gate from the town?” Jack asked. “Could someone walk through the forest and just pass the gate?”

Arturo glanced at Jack again. The conversation had taken a turn in a direction he’d not expected.

“It is quite far,” Arturo said evincing some unease. “Maybe five kilometers. And it is not easy to walk in the jungle. It can be dangerous.”

“And there is only one road?” Jack asked.

“Only one road,” Arturo agreed.

“I saw on a map that Cogo is on the water,” Jack said. “What about arriving by boat?”

“I suppose,” Arturo said.

“Where could someone find a boat?” Jack asked.

“In Acalayong,” Arturo said. “There are many boats there. That’s how to go to Gabon.”

“And there would be boats to rent?” Jack asked.

“With enough money,” Arturo said.

They were now passing through the center of Bata. It was composed of surprisingly broad tree-lined, litter-strewn streets. There were lots of people out and about but relatively few vehicles. The buildings were all low concrete structures.

On the south side of town, they turned off the main street and made their way along a rutted unpaved road. There were large puddles from a recent rain.

The hotel was an unimposing two-story concrete building with rusted rebars sticking out the top for potential future upward expansion. The facade had been painted blue but the color had faded to an indistinct pastel.

The moment they stopped, an army of congenial children and adults emerged from the front door. Everyone was introduced down to the youngest, shy child. It turned out that several multigenerational families lived on the first floor. The second floor was the hotel.

The rooms turned out to be tiny but clean. They were all situated on the outside of the U-shaped building. Access was by way of a veranda open to the courtyard. There was a toilet and a shower on each end of the “U.”

After putting his bag in his room and appreciating the mosquito netting around the inordinately narrow bed, Jack went out onto the veranda. Laurie came out of her room. Together, they leaned on the balustrade and peered down into the courtyard. It was an interesting combination of banana trees, discarded tires, naked infants, and chickens.

“Not quite the Four Seasons,” Jack said.

Laurie smiled. “It’s charming. I’m happy. There’s not a bug in my room. That had been my main worry.”

The proprietors, Esteban’s brother-in-law, Florenico, and his wife, Celestina, had prepared a huge feast. The main course was a local fish served with a turniplike plant called “malanga.” For dessert there was a type of pudding along with exotic fruit. An ample supply of ice-cold Cameroonean beer helped wash it all down.

The combination of plentiful food and beer took a toll on the exhausted travelers. It wasn’t long before all of them were fighting drooping eyelids. With some effort, they dragged themselves upstairs to their separate rooms, full of plans to rise early and head south in the morning.

Bertram climbed the stairs to Siegfried’s office. He was exhausted. It was almost eight-thirty at night, and he’d been up since five-thirty that morning to accompany the animal handlers out to Isla Francesca to help get the mass retrieval under way. They’d worked all day and only returned to the animal center an hour earlier.

Aurielo had long since gone home, so Bertram walked directly into the manager’s office. Siegfried was by the window facing the square with a glass in his hand. He was staring over at the hospital. The only light in the room was from the candle in the skull, just as it had been three nights before. Its flame flickered from the action of the overhead fan, sending shadows dancing across the stuffed animal trophies.

“Make yourself a drink,” Siegfried said, without turning around. He knew it was Bertram, since they’d talked on the phone a half an hour earlier and made plans to meet.

Bertram was more of a wine drinker than an imbiber of hard alcohol, but under the circumstances he poured himself a double scotch. He sipped the fiery fluid as he joined Siegfried at the window. The lights of the hospital lab complex glowed warmly in the moist tropical night.

“Did you know Taylor Cabot was coming?” Bertram asked.

“I hadn’t the faintest idea,” Siegfried said.

“What did you do with him?” Bertram asked.

Siegfried gestured toward the hospital. “He’s at the Inn. I had the chief surgeon move out of what we call the presidential suite. Of course, he was none too happy. You know how these egotistical doctors are. But what was I supposed to do? It’s not like I’m running a hotel here.”

“Do you know why Cabot came?” Bertram asked.