They chatted; then Taylor said to Brodie, “Meals are included.”
“Who’s for dinner?”
She continued, “There is a five-dollar entrance fee for the park.”
“What park?”
“This is a national park.”
“Right. Okay—”
“And he wants to see our travel permit.”
Brodie looked at César. “Travel permits are in our aircraft.”
“Yes? Okay. Pilot bring.”
“Right. Okay, let’s see our rooms.”
“Okay. You follow.”
The check-in completed under the tree, they carried their own bags and followed César, who led them toward an oval hut.
Taylor and Brodie exchanged glances. She said, “Seems okay.”
“Ask him if they have express checkout.”
“No more stupid jokes, please.”
“I told you, I get nervous in dangerous situations and say stupid things.”
“The stupid things you say makemenervous.” She mimicked him: “Who’s for dinner?” She added, “A-hole.”
“Sorry.”
As they walked, Brodie wondered how Kyle Mercer had wound up here. At first glance, Kavak was an odd choice of a way station if you were setting up a clandestine camp in the jungle. True, it was off the beaten path, but it was also accessible by air, and it was a tourist stop. But maybe Kavak checked off some boxes: Foreigners and strangers coming and going didn’t attract too much attention, the natives seemed to be friendly and probably looking to make a buck, and Mercer’s camp could be resupplied by air—including fresh supplies of hookers—then by boat from the nearby river.Also, Mercer could commute to Ciudad Bolívar or Caracas—or disappear into the jungle if things got hot. So maybe Captain Mercer had chosen well. He might be crazy, but he wasn’t stupid. In fact, he was experienced and well-trained. And so were Brodie and Taylor.
As for César, he was either straight out of central casting or he was a major player making a cameo appearance. The clipboard was a good prop, but it could also be legitimate. Was it possible that the Pemón who worked in Kavak as cast members, but lived elsewhere, didn’t know about Mercer’s camp? Not according to what Carmen said. So they were complicit. But to what extent? Money buys anything, including silence.
Brodie said to Taylor, “Don’t relax.”
“Goes without saying.”
César stopped at the oval hut and opened the door, which as Brodie had noted was of modern construction, including a doorknob and a keyhole. The large open windows were also factory-made and they had screens. A real, but nottooreal, Pemón experience for the tourists.
César entered first, and Brodie followed. Taylor brought up the rear and closed the door behind them.
César asked, “Okay?”
Brodie dropped his bag on the tile floor and looked around the small oval room lit only by sunlight. The walls were whitewashed, and at either end of the oval was a bunk bed. On the wall opposite the door hung two stowed hammocks, which could be opened and stretched across the room and fastened to the opposite wall.
César explained, “Hammock is how Pemón sleep. Maybe you sleep in hammock, maybe you sleep in bed.”
Maybe they wouldn’t sleep at all. Brodie asked, “Baño?”
“Outside. Nice.”
“Right. Shower?”
