“What about fresh water? Is it still a problem for many countries?”
“Worse than ever, between development and pollution.”
She shook her head sadly. “So much,” she said in a faraway voice. “I’ve missed so much. I don’t know if my parents are still alive. I miss them, my mother especially.” A tear gleamed in her eye, and she wiped it away with her napkin. “I must apologize for being so demanding, but you have no idea how awful it is to be isolated here in the forest, with no communication to the outside world. You have been very kind and patient. Now it is time for you to hear my story.” She called for tea to be served, then dismissed the Indian women so that there were only the three of them.
“My name is Francesca Cabral,” she began. For an hour the Trouts listened raptly to the goddess’s story, starting with her family, going through her education in Brazil and America, up to the time of the plane crash.
“I was the only survivor of the crash,” she said. “The copilot was a scoundrel, but he knew how to fly. The jet skidded into muddy wetlands near the river. The mud cushioned the landing and prevented fire. When I woke up I found myself in a hut where the Indians carried me. I was in terrible pain from my cuts and bruises, and my right leg was broken. A compound fracture, the worst kind. As you’ve heard, the rain forest medicines can be potent. They set my leg and treated me with potions that dulled the suffering and promoted healing. I learned later that the plane had landed on top of their chief’s house and killed him. They held me no ill. In fact, it was just the opposite.”
“They made you their goddess,” Gamay said.
“You can see why. The Chulo retreated from the onslaught of the white man a long time ago. They’ve been completely cut off from the world. Then I come like a comet flaming from the sky. Gods are supposed to behave that way to keep people in line. They figured the chief had angered the gods. I became the center of their religion.”
“A cargo cult?” Gamay offered.
Paul said, “Back during World War II, natives who saw planes overhead for the first time built replicas on the ground to worship.”
“Yes,” Gamay said. “Remember that movie The Gods Must Be Crazy? A Coke bottle dropped from an airplane became an object of religious veneration and started all sorts of trouble.”
“Precisely,” Francesca said. “Think of how those natives would react if they had an actual plane in their possession.”
“That explains the shrine with the plane at its center.”
She nodded. “They hauled the pieces of the jet there and did a fairly good job of reassembling it. Sort of a ‘chariot of the god.’ We have to sacrifice an animal now and then so the gods won’t wreak more destruction on the tribe.”
“The plane was blue and white,” Gamay said. “The natives paint themselves with the same color scheme. No coincidence?”
“They believe it will give them protection against their enemies.”
“How did Tessa come to be here?”
“Tessa is half Chulo. Her mother was captured during a raid by a neighboring tribe and traded to a European who was Tessa’s father. He was killed during a tribal dispute, and Tessa became Dieter’s property. He knew of the Chulo and married Tessa when she was still a girl, erroneously thinking it would give him entree to the tribe and its medicinal herbs, which he trafficked in.”
“Why did she stay with Dieter?”
“She thought she had no choice. Dieter reminded her constantly that she was a half-breed, spoiled goods. An outcast.”
“What about the Indian whose body we found?”
“Tessa wasn’t the first child born to her mother. She had a half-brother who lived here. He was determined to find his family and began to make explorations beyond the falls. He learned that his mother had died but that he had a sister. Tessa. He went to bring her back. The Chulo take family honor very seriously. The plant pirates working with Dieter captured him. They wanted him to show them where to find blood root.”
“Arnaud mentioned the plant.”
“It’s the miraculous species that was used to help me after the plane crash. The tribe considers it to be sacred. He refused to tell them where to find it, so they tortured him. He was shot trying to escape, and you found him. Dieter stole the specimens. I sent a search party to look for Tessa’s brother. She was trying to get back here when they ran into her, and she told them the story. I sent her back to Dieter’s with instructions to keep us informed about what was going on. Then you showed up unexpectedly. Tessa tried to warn you off. When that didn’t work she helped you escape. Or so she thought. You reappeared on our doorstep.”
“We’re in one piece. That’s more than I can say for Dieter and his friends.”
“The men of the tribe brought the heads back as gifts to me.” She glanced around the dining room which was hung with colorful tapestries of village life. “Shrunken heads would clash with my decor, so I suggested they put them outside the village.”
“Were you also responsible for our welcoming committee?”
“Oh, yes. You must admit that big orange-and-blue balloon you were flying was not inconspicuous. The men reported that you had almost flown into the falls. I had ordered that if you were seen you would be observed but not harmed. They were tracking you from the start. I was surprised when you started this way. You couldn’t have been lost.”
“We thought we might borrow a canoe.”
“Ah. How audacious! You wouldn’t have stood a chance. The reputation these people have is well deserved. They tracked you for miles. Sometimes I think they truly are the ghost people. They can melt through the forest like the mists the other Indians say they are made of.”
Paul had been pondering Francesca’s story. “Why would someone want to hijack the plane and kidnap you?”