Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
EVIE
Mara found me at breakfast with three memory cards spread across the table, my laptop balanced dangerously close to my coffee, and a piece of toast I'd apparently forgotten existed sometime around twenty minutes earlier. None of that seemed to surprise her.
“You're doing the thing again,” Mara told me as she stopped beside the table, a metal mug in one hand and a folded topographic map tucked beneath her other arm.
Her hair was twisted into the same messy knot she wore most mornings, and there was already a dark streak of dirt across one knee of her field pants despite the fact that it wasn't quite seven.
“What thing?” I asked Mara, glancing up from a photograph of a toucan I'd been debating whether to include in the final set.
“The thing where you forget food exists because there are pictures in front of you. Eat,” Mara replied, using two fingers to push my plate closer before dropping into the chair opposite mine. Her brown eyes flicked pointedly toward the untouched eggs and then back to me.
“I am eating,” I told Mara, reaching automatically for the abandoned toast and taking an unnecessarily large bite mostly to prove my point.
“Very convincing,” Mara replied, raising one eyebrow as she took a drink from her coffee and turned her attention toward the photographs covering my screen.
I ignored the criticism and clicked forward, only to have the next image fill the display with three leopards sitting together beside the creek.
Cat occupied the middle, larger through the shoulders than the other two, his golden-brown eyes fixed somewhere just beyond the camera.
The darker leopard sat on his right with the calm dignity of an animal who had apparently been born knowing exactly how to pose, while the amber-eyed one on the left looked as though he'd been holding still through sheer force of will and deeply resented every second of it.
It was one of the best wildlife photographs I'd taken in years.
It was also one I absolutely wasn't showing Mara. I clicked past it before she could lean closer, but not quite fast enough.
“What was that?” Mara asked me, lowering her mug as she leaned sideways in an attempt to see around the edge of my laptop.
“Bad exposure,” I told Mara, moving to the next photograph with what I hoped looked like professional disappointment rather than blatant guilt.
“You changed it pretty fast for a bad exposure,” Mara replied, studying my face over the rim of her mug instead of the screen now.
“I know when I've failed,” I told Mara, reaching for my coffee and taking a deliberate drink while refusing to meet her eyes.
Mara continued studying me for several uncomfortable seconds while I pretended not to notice.
Technically, there was nothing wrong with photographing the leopards.
Explaining why I had multiple photographs of three adult leopards sitting shoulder to shoulder as though they'd scheduled a family portrait would be considerably harder, especially when one of them was a conversationalist with strong opinions about chicken and another had spent most of yesterday trying to shove his face into my camera bag.
She eventually let it go.
Mostly.
“I have something you might actually want more than breakfast,” Mara told me, pulling the folded map from beneath her arm and clearing enough space beside my plate to open it.
“What?” I asked Mara, setting down my coffee and leaning across the table as she smoothed the map flat.
“We maintain a small observation camp here,” Mara explained, tapping a marked spot several kilometers beyond most of the trails I'd been using.
She traced the access route with one finger before glancing up at me.
“It's nothing glamorous, but wildlife activity has been unusually good around that section for the last couple of weeks. Macaws at the clay lick before sunrise, monkeys moving through around midday, tapir tracks near one of the smaller streams, and one of the camera traps caught a giant anteater two nights ago.”
My toast stopped halfway to my mouth.
“You have a giant anteater using the area?” I asked Mara, staring at the mark on the map before looking up at her with considerably more interest than I'd shown my breakfast.
“Possibly. It was one camera-trap image, so don't start planning the magazine cover yet,” Mara replied, and the small smile pulling at one corner of her mouth told me she'd known exactly which detail would get me.
“I wasn't,” I told Mara, lowering the toast while already imagining at least six different photographs.
“You absolutely were. The camp was built for researchers who need to stay out there for several days instead of hiking in and out every morning. If you want it, it's available,” Mara told me, sliding one finger farther along the marked route while amusement warmed her voice.
“How several are several?” I asked Mara, abandoning the toast entirely as I leaned closer to the map.
“Three nights would be reasonable. Four if the weather stays stable.
You'll still be within radio range, and the trail is maintained.
Not manicured, but marked well enough that you'd have to put some effort into getting lost,” Mara explained, tapping two points along the route before settling back in her chair.
I studied the map, glanced at Mara, then returned to the route she had marked. There really wasn't anything to consider.
“Yes. Absolutely yes,” I told Mara, already mentally sorting camera equipment.
“I thought you might say that,” Mara replied, looking far too satisfied with herself as she curled both hands around her mug.
“When can I leave?” I asked Mara, reaching toward the map.
“After you finish breakfast,” Mara told me, placing one palm firmly over the paper before I could drag it closer and dropping her gaze toward my plate.
I stared at her. She stared back without the slightest hint that she intended to surrender.
“Hostage situation?” I asked Mara, glancing pointedly at the map trapped beneath her hand.
“Eat your eggs, Halden,” Mara told me, pushing my plate closer again while a smile threatened at the corner of her mouth.
I ate the eggs. Apparently, professional independence had limits.
The next two hours were spent turning what sounded like a simple three-night photography trip into enough equipment to support a small military campaign.
The camp already had most of the bulky infrastructure.
Mara explained that the observation platform sat slightly above the ground on treated wooden supports, with a corrugated roof and heavy canvas walls that could be lowered during bad weather.
Inside were two narrow cots, mosquito netting, a folding work surface, sealed storage bins, and an old metal lockbox intended for sensitive equipment.
There was also a photography blind positioned downwind from a game trail a short distance away, which might have convinced me to go even without the promise of a giant anteater.
I still had to carry everything I actually needed.
Two camera bodies went into the padded field pack along with the lenses I expected to use most often.
The larger telephoto received its own protective sleeve, while spare batteries, clean memory cards, lens cloths, rain covers, a small hard drive, notebooks, and enough silica packets to make my equipment bag sound faintly medicinal filled the remaining compartments.
Mara supplied a compact solar panel and battery bank.
“You'll get decent light on the platform between ten and two. Don't trust the weather enough to wait until every battery is dead,” Mara told me as she checked the cable connections before tucking them into a waterproof pouch, her hands moving through the equipment with practiced efficiency.
“I would never,” I told Mara, sliding the battery bank into my pack while trying to look appropriately offended.
“You tried charging four batteries at once yesterday while the generator was making that noise,” Mara reminded me, folding her arms as though she'd just presented evidence in court.
“It always makes noises,” I told Mara, testing the weight of the pack before setting it down again.
“Not that noise,” Mara replied, her expression flattening as she glanced toward the main building. Dolores chose that exact moment to cough somewhere behind the station, making both of us turn toward the sound.
“That one,” Mara added, pointing toward the building without taking her eyes off me.
“She's dramatic,” I told Mara, tightening one of the straps while refusing to take responsibility for the generator's personality.
Mara laughed under her breath and returned to packing.
Water was easier. The camp had a covered collection barrel for washing and backup use, but drinking water still needed to be treated.
I carried two filled bottles, a collapsible container, a filter, and purification tablets because I'd learned very early in my career that redundancy was preferable to explaining to a doctor how I'd acquired an intestinal parasite while supposedly knowing better.
The emergency kit went into the top of my larger bag with first-aid supplies, antihistamines, painkillers, electrolyte packets, a snakebite pressure bandage, an emergency blanket, signaling mirror, headlamp, spare batteries, whistle, and personal locator beacon.
My blockers and emergency heat medication went into their own waterproof pouch and stayed somewhere I could reach them easily.
Always.
Mara checked the radio twice before handing it over.
“Morning check at seven-thirty, evening at six.
If you're leaving camp for more than an hour, tell me where you're going. If you change direction, tell me. If you decide to chase anything because it looks interesting—” Mara told me, clipping the radio case securely to the side of my pack and tugging once on the strap to make certain it wouldn't slip free.