Vicki managed a rueful smile. “I’d forgotten you’re not a tree hugger either. They’re great people but a little single-minded. It just seems to me that someone might try asking the human inhabitants their opinion of what’s being planned for them.”
“So tell ’em.”
“Oh no—”
Joe cut off Dieter, who was currently editorializing. “Hey, Greenpeace, put a sock in it and give Vicki a turn. After all, she’s the only one here who actually works with these people.”
Astonishingly, silence immediately reigned. As all heads turned to Vicki, Joe gestured to her. “So what do you think the answer is? How do you balance saving the environment and the complaints of the locals?”
The perennial people hugger/tree hugger debate. “What I think,” Vicki said carefully, “is that while we’re trying to save the rain forest, we need to figure out some way to feed the people as well. Or at least—”she glanced at the crumbs of Dieter’s super-sized burger combo—“be willing to set an example in starving to death. After all, gringos can hardly claim to be an endangered species either.”
Her smile lightened the comment to a joke as she got to her feet. “Meanwhile, it’s been a real pleasure meeting you all, but I need to get moving. Holly, I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Hey, you can’t go already.” Holly scrambled to her feet, rounding the table as Vicki dropped a bill on the table to cover her lunch. “I thought you came so we could talk. That’s why I invited you, remember?”
And you didn’t think of that earlier?
Vicki maneuvered her purse to her shoulder. “I did.”
“Look, my friends didn’t mean—”
“I know. That’s not it at all,” Vicki reassured her as she started toward the exit. “I really am sorry. I had a good time, I promise. But I’ve got to get to Casa de Esperanza. Why don’t you come over this evening, and we can talk as long as you like?”
“I can’t. Once this German team is in, I’ve got to get them settled into the hostel, then on a bus to the center. At least let me walk you out. We can talk on the way.” Holly was treading on Vicki’s heels in her urgency, the worried owl look back.
Vicki stifled another sigh but slowed her steps. “Fine, talk.”
“It’s . . . well, I want you to come up to the center with me tomorrow. To do what you do in your projects—you know, an investigation.”
“What?” Vicki stopped short to fix Holly with an incredulous stare before hurrying toward the escalator. “Are you crazy? Or are you forgetting that I came here to do a job? One I’m late for right now.”
“They won’t mind if you tell them you need to reschedule,” Holly insisted. “I mean, you’re not exactly talking emergency here, right? I’m just asking for a week or two, okay? After all, you’ve got to have some vacation time.”
As they stepped off the escalator on the ground floor, Holly linked arms with Vicki, raising her voice above the noise of the arrivals hall. “I’ve been thinking about this since I found out you were coming to Guatemala, and now with this past week . . . anyway, the interpreter who was supposed to work with the German team bailed out. They all speak English, so I figured you could take his place. Kind of undercover, you know.”
Vicki demanded, “Exactly how does that qualify as a vacation? Besides, you know I don’t like mountains.”
“Now
that’s
crazy. I’ve never understood why you have such a thing about mountains.”
“They’re cold and wet and gloomy. Give me a warm beach if I’m going on vacation.” Vicki couldn’t keep the irritation from her tone. Trust Holly to turn this into something personal. And to expect Vicki to just drop her job and plans anytime she needed—no,
wanted
—Vicki to come running. “Holly, if this is one of your crusades, I just don’t have time right now. I do need a vacation but a real one.”
“What do you mean, my crusades? When have I ever asked you to get involved before?”
“Oh no? What about that spotted owl thing? You were so sure you’d seen one and that the loggers were covering it up. Except
that
one turned out to be actually quite common. But not before you’d used my name in a letter-writing campaign that had the EPA all over the local lumber industry.”
“That was eleventh grade!”
“And the elephants in the circus? You discovered they were being used for heavy labor and called PETA. But these elephants were bred in India as work animals.”
“I don’t believe in exploiting performing animals. Besides, this is different. This is my job.”
Holly’s distress was so evident that Vicki stopped as they exited the glass doors onto the street. “Okay, what’s so wrong with your environmental paradise that you need your own PI?” She looked at her watch. “And keep it to the condensed version.”
“Well, the animals, for one.” As though suddenly realizing some of this press of humanity might understand English, Holly lowered her voice. “I think the workers are stealing them.”
“So what brought you to this conclusion?”
“I’ve been noticing that just about every time I get back from Guatemala City, there’re animals gone. They’re always the ones with value for the exotic animal trade. And when I ask, either suddenly no one understands my Spanish, or I get some song and dance. The short-term teams don’t know the animals well enough to notice, and Roger and Kathy aren’t out in the cages. But I’m the veterinarian. I’m the one who knows how badly they were hurt or whether they’re ready for release. And there’re too many to explain away.”
“And . . . ?” Vicki prompted. So far she’d heard nothing to keep her from responding to the eager waves of the cabdrivers waiting for fares on the curb.
Holly chewed at the corner of her mouth. “Well, a couple weeks ago we got our first jaguarundi. Female. A bad hind leg, so rehabilitation was out, but she was prime breeding age. I supervised her transfer to the zoo here for our breeding program. When I got into town this morning, I went to check on her, and she’s gone. No one knows anything. I’ve talked to everyone from the zoo administrator right up to the Minister of Environment. I figured they’d jump on it, but they just brushed me off. I know I’m just a foreign volunteer, but WRC is footing the bills. Shouldn’t we have
some
accountability?”
Her outrage was so incredulous that Vicki had to smother an impulse to laugh.
Welcome to Guatemala, Holly
. “Did it ever occur to you that you got the brush-off because it’s not just your local workers doing the stealing?”
Holly bristled. “Are you suggesting that one of our Guatemalan conservationists would even think of such a thing? If that isn’t a patronizing thing to say. You think they don’t care about their own country a lot more than we do? If anyone, why not accuse one of the American volunteers? Roger. Or Joe. Or even me. Unless you’re insinuating we’re somehow morally superior?”
“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it. But you’ve got to look at the odds. Who’s got the connections to pull it off? Not your short-term volunteers, American or otherwise. And let’s not be so sanctimonious. You’ve been here long enough to know that kickbacks are practically a job perk. Or are you telling me your zoo administrator and minister of environment don’t have a house in Zone 10? If so, they’re sure not doing it on government salaries.”
Holly looked appalled. “You’re right. I . . . I never thought of it. But . . . environmentalists? It’s inconceivable. Inexcusable. So what do you think I should do? Confront them? Maybe if I could make them see how important these animals are to their future. The future of their country.”
“Confront them?” Vicki didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You really think you’re going to tell these people that you know they’re lining their pockets? Or that you can just explain the environmental consequences of their actions? Now who’s patronizing. You think because this is a third world country, they can’t understand the implications of their actions? That if you beg them to be good, they’re going to throw up their hands and promise never to do it again?”
“Should I call the police?”
“Even if they haven’t been bought, you think they’re going to take on the local aristocracy on your say-so?” Vicki glanced at her watch again. “Let’s get out of here before we attract every beggar in the city. "Now, if you don’t mind, I really do need to get out of here.”
At that moment a hand tugged at her arm.
Instinctively tightening her grip on her purse, Vicki whirled around.
Sure enough, it was another beggar, this one a woman; her handwoven
huipil
, the brightly embroidered peasant blouse, and wraparound skirt of the indigenous Mayan ragged and dirty, including the length of homespun binding a small child to her back. Pointing to the baby, she cupped a hand toward Vicki and Holly.
Vicki was about to ignore the woman when she felt the feverish heat of the fingers clutching her arm and noticed the baby’s sunken eyes and mournful whimper. Closer scrutiny revealed that the Mayan woman was barely into her teens and little more than a child herself. Vicki dug into her purse.
“Vicki, what are you doing?” Now it was Holly clutching her arm. “Come away from there. Don’t you know what kind of diseases these people could be carrying?”
“Probably better than you do,” Vicki answered wryly. “Just hold on a minute. Can’t you see they’re sick?”
Digging in her purse for the card Evelyn McKie had given her, Vicki turned back to the Mayan beggar. Her Spanish was far from perfect, but it was fluent enough. “You and your baby need medical care. I’m not going to give you money, but I’m going to take you to the place on this card—Casa de Esperanza. Maybe you’ve heard of it? They’ll help you.” She hoped she was telling the truth.
Vicki caught a flicker of recognition in the fevered eyes; then the Mayan girl nodded dully.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Holly grabbed at Vicki’s arm again. “See what I mean? I ask you for help, and you brush me off. Someone else comes along, and you jump to be there for them. We’re talking the future of our planet here, and you’re worrying yourself over every beggar with their hand out. Where are your priorities?”
Vicki thought of several sharp retorts, but Holly looked so upset that she just said gently, “Right now my priorities are a couple of sick kids who need medicine and food and a bed.” Switching back to Spanish, she said to the Mayan girl, “Wait here.”
Vicki walked over to the nearest cabdriver and motioned to the waiting mother and child. “How much to take all of us to Casa de Esperanza in Zone 4?”
The driver’s nostrils flared into distaste “One hundred quetzals.”
At least twice the normal fare, but Vicki was not in the mood for quibbling.
Wresting open a back door of the cab, Vicki half guided, half pushed her two passengers inside. Sliding in after them, she shut the door and looked at Holly. “I really am sorry. I don’t want to run off on you, but I need to go now. I hope you can understand. I promise I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay?”
“So that’s it?” Holly leaned on the door. “You’re turning me down without even talking about it? You’re telling me to just throw in the towel and let them get away with it?”
“I’m not
telling
you to do anything,” Vicki responded evenly. “You asked what I would do. Well, that’s easy. Exactly what I’m doing right now. Just walk away. Consider the occasional sidetracked animal the price for doing business in Guatemala and concentrate on all the other good you’re doing. If you’re really concerned, contact your superiors back Stateside and ask them to require accountability for future funding.”