turned to Alex. 'My overage Lochinvar is green with envy.'
'That camera's damn well new... not the sort of thing one lends, I shouldn't think.' Peter looked at McAuliff as he spoke the non sequitur.
'Depends on the friend, I guess,' replied Alex, aware that Peter was implying something beyond his words. 'Ferguson can be a likable guy.'
' Very,' added Ruth. 'And so helpless, somehow. Except when he's over his equipment. Then he's positively a whiz.'
'Which is all I really care about.' McAuliff addressed this judgment to Peter. 'But then, you're all whizzes, cameras and fancy clothes and aromatic pipes notwithstanding.' Alex laughed.
'Got me there, chap.' Peter removed his pipe and shook his head. 'Dreadful habit.'
'Not at all,' said McAuliff. 'I like the smell, I really do. I'd smoke one myself but my tongue burns. Then stings.'
'There are preventive measures, but it's a dull subject... What's fascinating is this jungle laboratory we're in. Have you decided on crew assignments?'
'Vaguely,' answered Alex. 'Doesn't make an awful lot of difference. Who do you want?'
'One of those brothers for me,' said Ruth. 'They seem to know exactly where they are. I'd be lost in half a mo'!... Of course, that's selfish; my work is least important...'
'We still don't want to lose you, do we, Peter?' McAuliff leaned forward.
'Not as long as she behaves.'
'Take your pick,' said Alex. 'Marcus or Justice?'
'What marvellously dotty names!' cried Ruth. 'I choose Justice.' She looked at her husband. 'Always justice.'
'Yes, of course, my dear.'
'All right,' agreed McAuliff. 'Then Marcus'll be with me. One of them has to. And Alison asked for Lawrence, if you don't mind, Peter.'
'Not at all, chap. Sorry his friend... what was his name? Floyd? Yes, Floyd. Sorry he jumped ship, as it were. Did you ever find out what happened to him?'
'No,' replied Alex. 'He just disappeared. Unreliable guy. Something of a thief, too, according to Lawrence.'
'Pity... He seemed rather intelligent.'
'That's condescending, darling. Worse than brassy.' Ruth Jensen picked up a tiny stone and chucked it into the narrow river offshoot.
'Then just pick out a stout fellow who'll promise to lead me back to camp for meals and sleep.'
'Fine. I'll do that. We'll work four-hour field sessions, staying in touch by radio. I don't want anyone going beyond a sonic mile from camp for the first few days.'
'Beyond.' Ruth looked at McAuliff, her voice having risen an octave. 'Dear Alex, if I stumble more than twenty feet into that maze of overgrowth, commit me!'
'Rubbish,' countered her husband, 'when you start cracking rocks, you lose time and distance... Speaking of which, Alex, old boy, I presume there'll be a fairly steady flow of visitors. To observe our progress; that sort of thing.'
'Why?' McAuliff was now aware that both husband and wife were sending out abstract, perhaps unconscious signals. Peter less than Ruth. He was subtler, surer of himself than she was. But not completely sure. 'We'll bring out field reports every ten days or so. Rotate days off that way. That'll be good enough.'
'Well, we're not exactly at the end of nowhere; although I grant you, it looks like it. I should think the moneymen would want to check up on what they're paying for.'
Peter Jensen had just made a mistake, and McAuliff was suddenly alarmed. 'What moneymen?'
Ruth Jensen had picked up another stone, about to throw it into the brackish river. Arm poised, she froze for a second before hurling it.
The moment was not lost on any of them. Peter tried to minimize it.
'Oh... some Royal Society titans or perhaps a few of these buggers from the Ministry. I know the RS boys, and God knows the Jamaicans have been less than cordial. I just thought... Oh, well, perhaps I'm off-centre.'
'Perhaps,' said Alex quietly, 'you're ahead of me. On-site inspectors aren't unusual. I was thinking about the convenience. Or lack of it. It took us nearly a day to get here. Of course, we had the truck and the equipment... Still, it seems like a lot of trouble.'
'Not really.' Peter Jensen tapped his pipe on his boots. 'I've been checking the maps, looking about from the river clearing. The grasslands are nearer than we think. Less than a couple of miles, I'd say. Light planes could easily land.'
'That's a good point. I hadn't thought of it.' McAuliff leaned forward once again to engage Peter, but Peter did not look at him now. 'I mean if we needed... equipment or supplies, we could get them much quicker than I'd anticipated. Thanks, Peter.'