Jenny watched him cross the street and disappear into the crowd, feeling faintly sad and worried that Geli would use this opportunity to run Kevin down again. When she looked up again there was the Indian. He was standing in front of the display staring at the charmingly dim face of a sloth. Dressed in a shabby black suit and a white shirt buttoned up to the neck, he had a small string bag slung over his shoulder and a stained and worn cloth suitcase at his feet. He touched the photograph lightly and then brought his fingertip to his nose.

“That’s a sloth,” Jenny said. “They live in the trees.”

At her words, he turned his head and regarded her. She saw the tattoos on his face, three lines on each cheek and two short vertical marks on his forehead, and their eyes met. Involuntarily, her glance moved to a large photograph of some Yanomami tribesmen, and then back to the Indian. He was still staring at her. A small thrill traveled through her body and she felt the hair stand up on her arms, and she had to drop her eyes. She watched the man move down the display, looking at each photograph in turn. He spent a long time in front of each one, and longest before the picture of a jaguar.

“Geli,” she said in a hushed voice, “check out that guy in the black outfit. He’s just like those guys in our picture.”

Geli glanced up from the petition she had just got some tourists to sign. She looked the man over. “God, I think you’re right. What the hell’s he doing in Miami?”

“You could ask him. I don’t think he speaks any English.”

But the man had left the display and now approached the two women. He said something to them, and it was a moment before Geli understood that the language he was speaking was her cradle tongue. In Spanish she replied, “Forgive me, sir, I didn’t understand you.”

The man said, “I have go to Consuela Holdings. To talk to men. I have say, not…not…” A look of frustration crossed his face, and he went to the display and tapped on the photograph of the logging operation. “Not this in Puxto Reserve.”

“You’re from thePuxto?”

His face brightened and he showed filed teeth. “Yes, Puxto! Consuela not…issiwix to do like this. Forbid.”

“What’s he saying?” asked Jenny.

“I’m not sure. He says he’s from the Puxto Reserve. It’s in Colombia. God, how inhell did he get here? He sounds like he wants us to stop someone logging the Puxto.”

“Well, then he sure came to the right people,” said Jenny confidently.

“Yeah, but, God, this is so weird.” In halting Spanish then she interrogated the man. He said his name was Juan Bautista and he lived in a village near a river Geli had never heard of. They had killed Father Perrin but after he was dead Father Perrin had told him that Consuela Holdings was going to cut all the forest on the Puxto so the dead people could buy many machetes and bottles of pisco. So Jaguar said he must go, and he came down the river to a bigger river in his canoe and thence to the sea, whereGuyana Castle had carried him and Jaguar to Miami America and now the woman must take him to Consuela Holdings because he had the men to talk to tied in a string and would talk and then go back to the Runiya, because being in the land of the dead people was very hard on hissomething.

“I don’t understand that word,” she said.

“Ryuxit,”the Indian repeated. He gestured to the sky, to the earth, and dashed over and tapped on all the pictures of animals and plants, then touched his heart, clenched his fist, and pressed the fist firmly against Jenny’s breastbone. “Like those…all like that,” he said. “Here in Miami not…” He made a flowing motion with his hand.

“What? What’s he saying?” said Jenny. There was a strange feeling in her chest where he had touched her.

“It’s a little vague just now. Wait here for a second, I’m going to check something out.”

With that she dashed up the steps and into the library. Jenny smiled at Juan Bautista, who looked sadly after Geli.

“She’ll be right back. We really, really want to help you, man.” She got up and pointed to the map of Amazonia. “Can you show me where you come from?”

No reaction. Jenny pointed to herself and said, “I’m Jenny. Can you say ‘Jenny’?” A blank look, but Jenny was not discouraged. Many of the foster children she had lived with had been retards, and she’d got along just fine with them. You just had to take it real slow. She pointed to one of the pictures. “This is an orchid. Sayoarrr-kidd!” She gestured to his mouth and made opening and closing motions with her hand. She saw light dawn in his eyes.

“The Little Brother of the Blood,” he said in his own language, and continued, “This is a very useful plant. We grind the tubers and soak the mash in cane alcohol and then boil it down into a syrup. We use it to treat arthritis, diarrhea, headache, temperature, cough, digestion diseases, and to help to heal wounds and boils.”

“Good,” said Jenny with a smile. “And we call it anor-chid. Now this is a monkey. Can you saymon-key?”

He could, and so on through the other pictures. At the jaguar, he said, “You know, that is very dangerous. I don’t think Jaguar would like you capturing his soul like that. A bad thing could happen.” Jenny smiled and nodded. At least he was talking.

Kevin returned looking hectic. “Hey, they found a coon’s head in a tree and blood all around, guts and all. The cops think it was a wild dog pack, that or homeless guys out hunting. Who’s this?” pointing at the Indian.

“His name’s Juan Bautista. He comes from the Amazon, and we’re going to help him keep this company from cutting down his rain forest.”

“You’re shitting me! Where’d you find him?”

“He just showed up. It’s sort of like fate.”

“Oh, right, fate. Did you tell him we don’t do shit?” He addressed the Indian. “Wrongo outfit, man. We no stoppo no cutto down treeso, only talko talko, hando out brochureso.”

“Well, we have a chance, now, Kevin. I don’t see why you have to always be so fucking down on everything. This little guy’s got the name of the company that’s doing it, and he says they’re right here in Miami.”

Geli Vargos returned, her face alight. “I looked it up and it checks out. Thereis a company called Consuela Holdings in Miami, and they have an office on North Miami Avenue, 540 North Miami. And I looked up the Puxto Reserve on the Net. There’s not supposed to be any logging at all there, so it has to be an illegal cut. God, Rupert’s going to go crazy over this.”

“Yeah, he’ll write a letter to the papers, that’s how crazy he’ll get,” Kevin said. “Or maybe if he’s really fired up he’ll try to get an interview on NPR. Hey, I got an idea. Let’s fucking go up there right now. Confront the bastards with what’s-his-face here, the evidence of their crimes. We got the address.”

“I don’t think that’s smart-” said Geli.

“Oh, fuck smart!” He turned to the Indian. “Look, man, we go now, right. To Consuela, tell them no choppo my trees, okay? You come with me now, yes?Pronto, Consuela,con me. ”

“Consuela,pronto, sí, ” said the Indian, making a peculiar twisting motion of his head that seemed to mean affirmation.

Kevin began leading the Indian to the VW. Geli said, “Kevin, come on, don’t be an asshole. We have all this stuff here. How in hell are we supposed to pack it up if you take the truck? And you can’t speak Spanish-you won’t know what’s going on.”

“I had a year of it in school.Hasta la vista, baby!” He placed the Indian in the shotgun seat and jumped behind the wheel.

“Kevin, damn it, hold on!” said Jenny. “This is stupid. We should pack this all up and go together, and like plan it out with Rupert and all.”

Kevin cranked it up hard, sending clouds of acrid smoke into the air. “Girls, now be sure to get those petitions signed,” he crowed, “me and Tonto here gonna whip some ass at the despoilers’ headquarters.¡Viva la revolución! ”


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