Artifact

“More?” She took the cup from him.

“Not yet. I want to keep my head clear.”

She smiled. “That’ll be a switch. You haven’t been conscious, not to mention compos mentis, since we hauled you into the Zodiac and cruised away from the tanker.”

“Did you achieve your objective?”

“We thought so—at the time. I expected a much larger explosion, but I’ll accept any victory. If nothing else, I’m sure we called some attention to Oilstar’s activities.”

“And your own,” Keene said.

She shrugged. “For better or for worse.” She poured some of the scotch into the same cup for herself. “Scotch and coffee, two of the greatest amenities of Venezuelan civilization.” She looked contemplatively into the honey brown liquid and raised the cup. “Even out here in the jungle, I wouldn’t do without them.”

Antagonism crawled down Keene’s spine. He looked at her angrily, started to say something, and passed out. He woke up with a pounding head and a throbbing body hinting at more wounds than he wanted to know about. His skin felt oily with perspiration, but he could not determine whether the sweat was from jungle humidity or a severe fever.

He’d been having the most bizarre dreams he’d ever remembered. First he was making love to a woman with velvet skin, short ci

He pressed his fingertips to his chest and found bandages and pain. He touched the patchwork of injuries, pressing down hard because the pain reminded him that he was still alive. His mind was full of questions. Where was he?

He heard jungle crickets, the belching music of small frogs and of trickling water, the crackle and whisper of dried leaves woven into a fragrant roof over his head.

“You awake now?”

Keene turned his head and groaned as even the small movement set a series of pains in motion.

Selene sat on the ground, her back against the i

“You’ve been dried, fed, and nursed back to life. Now it’s time for some payback.”

“Payback?”

She laughed. “Nothing too strenuous, I promise you. First you tell me who you are.”

“Joshua Keene.”

“I assume that since you and your friend were on theYucatán, you work for Frik Van Alman. Is that correct?”

“Not precisely.”

“Then what, precisely, were you doing on the tanker?”

Keene hesitated, confused by his pain and wondering how the beautiful woman questioning him could be the enemy. “It’s complicated. Terris and I are…were in a group with Frik. He asked us to look for you,” he said at last.

“What sort of group? Why would you just blindly follow Frik’s orders?”

Keene felt the fuzz returning to his brain. He tried to shake it off. “It’s called the Daredevils Club. It’s like a brotherhood of adventurers. Frik asked for our help, and we saw the opportunity for some action. He wanted something he said your father stole from him and sent to you.”

“Frikkie Van Alman is a sorry excuse for a human being. I know the things Van Alman says about Green Impact. He’s a liar. A killer. A megalomaniac.” Her whole demeanor hardened. “My father is dead. Van Alman killed him because he knew too much about Oilstar’s operations and their intent.”

“I had nothing to do with that. Neither did Terris, and he’s dead too.”

Selene turned to walk back to a small camp stove where she was heating some water. The tail of her shirt rode up and he saw smooth skin.

“You need to listen, Joshua. Green Impact is not a bunch of wild dogs trying to cause senseless destruction. Not my people, and not me. We’re doing this to stop Frik from destroying our future.”

“Are you sure you’re not as deluded as he is?” Joshua’s throat was dry, his voice hoarse. She moved toward the doorway. “I’ve got some things to take care of.” She tucked her shirt back into her khaki shorts. “We’ll talk more when I get back.”

Yet one more time, Keene drifted off into a restless sleep. He awoke in pain and filled with sadness, but less confused. This time he knew where he was and what he was doing there, though there were still plenty of gaps in the past…what was it? A week? Two? He had heard about temporary trauma-induced amnesia and knew that it wasn’t likely to last. The memories would return in bits and pieces, like misrouted mail.

He struggled off the mildewed canvas cot where he’d been lying and made it outside onto a small verandah. Sitting down on one of two handmade chairs, he surveyed his surroundings.

The verandah overlooked a tiny tributary in the lush labyrinth of the Orinoco Delta. He could see some of the remaining members of Green Impact gathering food, preparing supplies, practicing skills. One man, probably a guard who had remained awake through the previous night’s shift, slept in a mesh hammock. Tall trees filled with colorful tropical birds flanked the stream. Dwellings clustered together in what appeared to be an encampment, raised on poles above the marshy ground and constructed of thin stripped logs with roofs thatched with heavy dried palm fronds.

“I’m glad to see you up,” Selene said, appearing from behind and taking the chair next to him. She was holding the same white enamel mug, only this time he could smell coffee.

“Here.” She handed him the cup. “It’s strong.”

Keene took it from her and placed it on a rickety little table that separated the chairs. “Do you know for sure that Terris McKendry is dead?”

“There were many casualties that night,” Selene said, looking away. “Five of my people, the skeleton crew on the tanker, and, yes, I suppose your friend, too.”

Her expression serious, she reached into her shirt pocket and pulled out a strangely shaped object. She tapped it on the table with a dull-sounding click.

“That’s what Frik’s so hot to have? That’s the reason Terris died?” Keene could hear the rising fury in his own voice.

“Yes. It may not look like much, but this one piece could change the world. Frik doesn’t understand much about it, but he wants to possess it badly enough that when my father tried to keep it from him, Frik killed him.”

“How do you know?” Keene asked her. “We were told it was a lab accident.”

“Right! Fu

“Arthur’s dead too. Killed in an explosion on New Year’s Eve not long after your father died.”

Selene looked astonished, then even angrier. “See what I mean?”

Keene contemplated his own doubts. Arthur Marryshow and Paul Trujold, dead within days of each other. Both men concerned about Frik Van Alman’s peculiar artifact. He didn’t believe in coincidences. “What else do you know about…that?” He pointed at the fragment.

“All I know is that it was dredged up by Oilstar’s test drilling rig, the one just off the coast of Trinidad,” she said. “According to my father, the composition is like nothing ever found before, nothing that any human made.”

“Are we talking little green men here?” Joshua allowed himself a small smile.