Alan Dupre knew something I needed to know, or might know it. Steve had definitely found the right guy in that regard. But he clearly was cautious to the point of paralysis as he kept furtively glancing around. What was he so fearful of, and what could I do to convince him to help me?
I stood gazing at the dark sky for a long moment, and
then I had an off-the-wall idea, a long shot, the all-or-nothing take you go for when the sun is dying and the unions are looking at overtime.
"You do tourist flights, right?" I started, still working on the idea. "So how about pretending I'm an eco nut? A lover of the rain forest. You can tell whoever you're so afraid of that you're taking me up into the wilds to show me jaguars or something. A regular tour. Just cruising around, taking in the sights. Totally innocent. And then if we accidentally scouted a little, maybe we could find the place."
"Jesus, you're serious about this, aren't you?" Dupre nervously crushed out his cigarette, staring at me glassy-eyed.
"Never been more."
He extracted another Gauloise.
"Okay, a counteroffer, Miss . . ."
"James. Morgan James."
"Right, Miss James. I'm beginning to think you've got no realistic sense of proportion about this part of the world. You—"