Life Blood---XXIII---Page No 78

on. Start forcing him to show his hand.
"What's—?"

"Merely a little harmless theater." He looked back. "The forest
Maya like to think they're being ministered to by a shaman." Then
he indicated I should follow him. "By the way, in case you do get
hungry, I brought you something you can have in your room if you
like. Then you can make yourself at home and rest a bit."

Hold on. I was being given the illusion of freedom, but in reality I was nothing more than his prisoner.

"That room next to your office. The steel door. What's in—?"
        "That's the heart of Baalum." Pride in his voice. "The real
 reason I'm here."

"You mean drug research?"

He nodded. "Did you know the Central American rain forest

easily contains a hundred thousand plant species? Over half of all
pharmaceutical drugs are derived from plants, yet less than one
percent of those here have been tested for pharmacological
potential. Still, the old shamans and midwives all know of herbs
they claim can cure everything from menstrual cramps to cancer."
He smiled. "They also know which ones have powerful
contraceptive properties, which is particularly helpful in my
primary study, fertility and fetal viability. I take the specimens they
bring and perform a rough screening in the lab to determine if
they're actually pharmacologically active. If they do test positive, I
then examine their effect on the blastocyst, the early form of
embryonic cell formed just after fertilization, to see whether they
affect cell division and viability and . . . the miscarriage rate here
is very low, so some of these plants . . ." His voice trailed off as he
pushed open the door of a suite at the end of the hall. It had a
stone floor, a simple bed, and through the slatted windows the
light of midday filtered through, along with the birdcalls of the rain
forest. Any other time and place, I'd have felt like I was staying at
a rustic nature retreat.

But this wasn't some other time and place. And what about
Steve? Where was he? Maybe he was somewhere worse.
Thinking about him, I was startled to hear myself say . . .

"Incidentally, I found out the man I've been trying to have a
baby with didn't show up at his hotel in Belize last night. He was
driving there from Guatemala City. I'm very worried. I keep
hearing about how people get 'disappeared' in this country. He's—"
        "Could his name be Steve Abrams?" Goddard turned back,
still holding the tray.

It was a moment that stopped my heart. For a second I wasn't even able to speak.

"How . . . did you know?" I finally managed to say. "I never mentioned—"

"That's the name they gave me. I received a call this morning from Guatemala City. From Colonel Ramos's office, in fact. As you might suppose, he's well aware you're here, and he said you were seen dining night before last at a downtown restaurant with a man by that name. They think he's in the country because of you, and they're trying to locate him."

I felt the life go entirely out of me. My God what was going

on? Steve was now the subject of a manhunt in a police state. Did he even know?

"I told them you were here for purely medical reasons." He sighed with frustration. "And that they were being irrationally paranoid but . . ."

"So they don't actually know where he is, right?" I was still trying to breathe.

"As of this morning. If they did they wouldn't have called up

here." He walked over and set the tray down on a rustic table next to the bed. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. He's committed no crime. They just want to make sure you realize your presence has not gone unnoticed."

Dear God. What had I dragged Steve into? If they found him, what would they do? I could only pray he was deft enough to elude them. If anybody could . . .

Then I looked at the tray. An empty syringe was there. Also, there was a large bowl containing some kind of soup. I was finally growing ravenous, but still . . .

"What's this for?" I indicated the syringe.

"I just need to take a little blood for some tests. Don't worry, it won't hurt a bit."

Hold on. How far do I have to play along to stay in his chess
game?

Then I glanced down again at the tray. "And what's in that
bowl?"