“Not in so many words,” Kevin said. “But he knew. I’m sure of it. He wasn’t interested. The problem is that he and Siegfried have been included in the project bonuses. Consequently, they are going to make damn sure nothing threatens it. I’m afraid they’re venal enough not to care what’s on the island. And on top of their venality we have to weigh in Siegfried’s sociopathy.”

“Is he that bad?” Candace asked. “I’d heard rumors.”

“Whatever you heard, it’s ten times worse,” Melanie said. “He’s a major sleazeball. To give you an example, he executed some impoverished Equatoguinean men because they’d been caught poaching in the Zone, where he likes to hunt.”

“He killed them himself?” Candace questioned with shock and revulsion.

“Not by himself,” Melanie said. “He had the men tried in a kangaroo court here in Cogo. Then they were executed by a handful of Equatoguinean soldiers at the soccer field.”

“And to add insult to injury,” Kevin said, “he uses the skulls as bowls for odds and ends on his desk.”

“Sorry I asked,” Candace said with a shiver.

“What about Dr. Lyons?” Melanie asked.

Kevin laughed. “Forget it. He’s more venal than Bertram. This whole operation is his baby. I tried to talk to him about the smoke, too. He was even less receptive. Claimed it was my imagination. Frankly I don’t trust him, although I have to give him credit for being generous with bonuses and stocks. He’s cleverly given everyone connected with the project a real stake in the venture, particularly Bertram and Siegfried.”

“So, that leaves it all up to us,” Melanie said. “Let’s find out if it’s your imagination or not. What do you say the three of us take a quick trip to Isla Francesca?”

“You’re joking,” Kevin said. “It’s a capital offense without authorization.”

“It’s a capital offense for locals,” Melanie said. “That can’t apply to us. In our case, Siegfried has to answer to GenSys.”

“Bertram specifically forbade visits,” Kevin said. “I offered to go by myself, and he said no.”

“Well, big deal,” Melanie said. “So he gets mad. What is he going to do, fire us? I’ve been here long enough so that I don’t think that would be half bad. Besides, they can’t do without you. That’s the reality.”

“Do you think it might be dangerous?” Candace asked.

“Bonobos are peaceful creatures,” Melanie said. “Much more so than chimps, and chimps aren’t dangerous unless you corner them.”

“What about the man who was killed?” Candace said.

“That was during a retrieval,” Kevin said. “They had to get close enough to shoot a dart gun. Also, it was the fourth retrieval.”

“All we want to do is observe,” Melanie said.

“Okay, how do we get there?” Candace asked.

“Drive, I guess,” Melanie said. “That’s how they go when they do a release or a retrieval. There must be some kind of bridge.”

“There’s a road that goes east along the coast,” Kevin said. “It’s paved to the native village then it becomes a track. That’s how I went on the visit to the island before we started the program. For a hundred feet or so the island and the mainland are only separated by a channel thirty feet wide. Back then there was a wire suspension bridge stretched between two mahogany trees.”

“Maybe we can view the animals without even going across,” Candace said. “Let’s do it.”

“You ladies are fearless,” Kevin remarked.

“Hardly,” Melanie said. “But I don’t see any problem with driving up there and checking the situation out. Once we know what we’re dealing with, we can make a better decision about what we want to do.”

“When do you want to do this?” Kevin questioned.

“I’d say now,” Melanie replied. She glanced at her watch. “There’s no better time. Ninety percent of the population of the town is either at the waterfront chickee bar, splashing around in the pool, or sweating buckets at the athletic center.”

Kevin sighed, let his arms fall limply to his sides, and capitulated. “Whose car should we take?” he asked.

“Yours,” Melanie said without hesitation. “Mine doesn’t even have four-wheel drive.”

As the trio descended the stairs and made their way across the sweltering blacktop of the parking area, Kevin had the gnawing sense they were making a mistake. But in the face of the women’s resolve, he felt reluctant to voice his reservations.

On the east exit of the town, they passed the athletic center’s tennis courts, which were chockful of players. Between the humidity and heat, the players looked as drenched as if they’d jumped into a swimming pool with their tennis outfits on.

Kevin drove. Melanie sat in the front passenger seat, while Candace sat in the back. The windows were all open, since the temperature had fallen into the high eighties. The sun was low in the west, directly behind them and peeking in and out of clouds along the horizon.

Just beyond the soccer field the vegetation closed in around the road. Brightly colored birds flitted in and out of the deepening shadows. Large insects annihilated themselves against the windshield like miniature kamikaze pilots.

“The jungle looks dense,” Candace said. She’d never traveled east from the town.

“You have no idea,” Kevin said. When he’d first arrived he’d tried to take some hikes in the area, but with the profusion of vines and creepers, it was all but impossible without a machete.

“I just had a thought about the aggression issue,” Melanie said. “The passivity of bonobo society is generally attributed to its matriarchal character. Because of the skewed demand for male doubles, our program has a population that’s mostly male. There has to be a lot of competition for the few females.”

“That’s a good point,” Kevin agreed. He wondered why Bertram hadn’t thought of it.

“Sounds like my type of place,” Candace joked. “Maybe I should book Isla Francesca instead of Club Med on my next vacation.”

Melanie laughed. “Let’s go together,” she said.

They passed a number of Equatoguineans on their way home from work in Cogo. Most of the women carried jugs and parcels on top of their heads. The men were generally empty-handed.

“It’s a strange culture,” Melanie commented. “The women do the lion’s share of the work: growing the food, carrying the water, raising the kids, cooking the meals, taking care of the house.”

“What do the men do?” Candace asked.

“Sit around and discuss metaphysics,” Melanie said.

“I just had an idea,” Kevin said. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Maybe we should talk to the pygmy who takes out the food to the island first and hear what he has to say.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Melanie said. “Do you know his name?”

“Alphonse Kimba,” Kevin said.

When they reached the native village, they pulled to a stop in front of the busy general store and got out. Kevin went inside to inquire after the pygmy.

“This place is almost too charming,” Candace said as she looked around the neighborhood. “It looks African but like something you’d see in Disneyland.”

GenSys had built the village with the cooperation of the Equatoguinean Minister of the Interior. The homes were circular, whitewashed mud brick with thatched roofs. Corrals for domestic animals were made of reed mats lashed to wooden stakes. The structures appeared traditional, but every one of them was new and spotless. They also had electricity and running water. Buried underground were powerlines and modern sewers.

Kevin returned quickly. “No problem,” he said. “He lives close by. Come on, we’ll walk.”

The village was alive with men, women, and children. Traditional cooking fires were in the process of being lit. Everyone acted happy and friendly from having been recently freed from the captivity of the interminable rainy season.

Alphonse Kimba was less than five feet tall with skin as black as onyx. A constant smile dominated his wide, flat face as he welcomed his unexpected visitors. He tried to introduce his wife and child, but they were shy and shrunk back into the shadows.