“Oh, we go way back,” Dodgson said.
She noticed his vagueness. “How far?”
“Back to the days of the park.”
“The park,” she said.
He nodded. “Did he ever tell you how he hurt his leg?”
“No,” she said. “He would never talk about it. He just said it happened on a consulting job that had…I don’t know. Some sort of trouble. Was it a park?”
“Yes, in a way,” Dodgson said, staring out at the ocean, After a moment, he shrugged. “And what about you? How do you know him?”
“He was one of my thesis readers. I’m an ethologist. I study large mammals in African grassland ecosystems. East Africa. Carnivores, in particular.”
“Carnivores?”
“I’ve been studying hyenas,” she said. “Before that, lions.”
“For a long time?”
“Almost ten years, now. Six years continuously, since my doctorate.”
“Interesting,” Dodgson said, nodding, “And so did you come here all the way from Africa?”
“Yes, from Seronera. In Tanzania.”
Dodgson nodded vaguely. He looked past her shoulder toward the island. “What do you know. Looks like the weather may clear, after all.”
She turned and saw streaks of blue in the thinning clouds overhead. The sun was trying to break through. The sea was calmer. And she was surprised to see the island was much closer. She could clearly see the cliffs, rising above the seas. The cliffs were reddish-gray volcanic rock, very sheer.
“In Tanzania,” Dodgson said. “You run a large research team?”
“No. I work alone.”
“No students?” he said.
“I’m afraid not. It’s because my work just isn’t very glamorous. The big savannah carnivores in Africa are primarily nocturnal. So my research is mostly conducted at night.”
“Must be hard on your husband.”
“Oh, I’m not married,” she said, with a little shrug.
“I’m surprised,” he said. “After all, a beautiful woman like you…”
“I never had time,” she said quickly. To change the subject, she said, “Where do you land on this island?”
Dodgson turned to look. They were now close enough to the island to see the waves crashing, high and white, against the base of the cliffs. They were only a mile or two away.
“It’s an unusual island,” Dodgson said. “This whole region of central America is volcanic. There are something like thirty active volcanoes between Mexico and Colombia. All these offshore islands were at one time active volcanoes, part of the central chain. But unlike the mainland, the islands are now dormant. Haven’t erupted for a thousand years or so.
“So we’re seeing the outside of the crater?”
“Exactly. The cliffs are all the result of erosion from rainfall, but the ocean erodes the base of the cliffs, too. Those flat sections on the cliff you see are where the ocean cut in at the bottom, and huge areas of the cliff face were undermined, and just cleaved, falling straight down into the sea. It’s all soft volcanic rock.”
“And so you land…”
“There are several places on the windward side where the ocean has cut caves into the cliff. And at two of those places, the caves meet rivers flowing out from the interior. So they’re passable.” He pointed ahead. “You see there, you can just now see one of the caves.”
Sarah Harding saw a dark irregular opening cut into the base of the cliff. All around it, the waves crashed, plumes of white water rising fifty feet up into the air.
“You’re going to take this boat into that cave there?”
“If the weather holds, yes.” Dodgson turned away. “Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it looks. Anyway, you were saying. About Africa. When did you leave Africa?”
“Right after Doc Thorne called. He said he was going with Ian to rescue Richard, and asked if I wanted to come.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said I’d think about it.”
Dodgson frowned. “You didn’t tell him you were coming?”
“No. Because I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I mean, I’m busy. I have my work. And it’s a long way.”
“For an old lover,” Dodgson said, nodding sympathetically.
She sighed. “Well. You know. Ian.”
“Yes, I know Ian,” Dodgson said. “Quite a character.”
“That’s one way to put it,” she said.