The train tore across the landscape faster than its normal rate of speed. There had been huge delays caused by an engineer's strike and the freight on board, medicinal supplies for several large communities, could not be allowed to spoil; too much money was invested in the product. To facilitate this end, the railroad had attached the cars carrying the sensitive medical supplies to their passenger train, with orders to skip several stations on the way to its destination.

Supervisory personnel had been pressed into their old careers as drivers, and the task was not one they wanted to dally with. Arny was getting a headache from the flashing scenery as it zoomed past his window.

"Lucky ours is one of the stops this thing will make." Gretta said, closing her magazine and squeezing his knee.

"At this speed we'll be lucky if they can stop. And it can't be too soon for me. Why are we going to this place first again?"

"We need to find this Walter Gervais and see exactly what he knows about his nephew's activities in the Philippines. They might be small islands on the map but it's a hell of a big place on foot. And it's not all paved roads and doughnut shops."

"You've been there?"

"Passed through once on the way to Borneo."

"Of course."

"Would you care for a little geography lesson to pass the time, lover?"

"Fine. Just don't do a lot of piddly details. Okay?"

"Deal. Let's see then" She slumped down and placed her hand high on his leg, smiling at the sudden tensing. "The area we are going to is in the southwest part of Mindanao, the second largest island."

"What's the first?"

"I thought you didn't want piddly details."

"The largest island is hardly piddly, is it."
"Luzon. It's in the northern part. Mindanao is a weird shape, kinda like an ink blot. Very irregular. We're heading to the southernmost part of this island, a province called, the Zamboanga Peninsula; it's almost its own island but not quite. All the islands there are part of a submerged volcanic mountain mass—some right on the coast—that run mainly north to south."

"Are there live volcanoes?"

"Twenty or so."

"Jesus!" Arny sat up. "How active?"

"If you promise not to jump like that when we get there, probably not too."

"Oh very funny, Gretta."

"Relax Arny." Her hand saw to that. "Let me wax a little poetic here. Mindanao has a very diversified topography. The mountains bordering the Pacific coast are the Dilate, and to the west of those is the valley of the Augean River. That's where the highest mountain in the Philippines is. Mount Apo, a little under two miles."

"But not in the area we're heading for."

"No. On the Zamboanga Peninsula there are still plenty of mountains though, loaded with teak forests, ironwood, cypress and ebony. The roads are crap. There are plenty of them but only about ten or fifteen percent are paved."

"Wonderful. How do we get there?"

"Well, first we fly into Manila; that's the main airport."

"First?"

"Yeah. They don't have much of a rail system so we'll need different transportation. We'll find something when the time comes."

"How bloody encouraging."

Another squeeze of his leg and she blithely carried on. "Zamboanga, the town, is a seaport right on the Sulu Sea. Ever heard of Sulu pearls, Arny?"

"Nope."

"Well that's where they come from, and they are world-famous."

He shrugged indifferently. "What's the weather like right now?"

"Since it's within the Tropics, the average temperature is about eighty year 'round—and humid. Of course it's a little cooler in the mountains. It's uh- it's the monsoon season right now."

"Monsoon. Delightful." He jerked upright suddenly. "Hey wait a minute! That means typhoon season too, right?"

"Yes but they aren't a regular thing, Arny." She patted his leg again and waited until he settled down. "Let's see, what else. Oh, they have tons of minerals in a very large variety."

"Besides the ones the Japs buried."

"Yes Arny, besides those. You'll be pleased to know that there are a lot of fascinating birds too. Lots of parrots."

"I should have brought crackers."

"Come on Arny, it's an adventure."

"Sure. What about wildlife? Anything dangerous? You never seem to mention those until we're right in among them."

"Happy to report there aren't many. Some rodents, a few deer and water buffalo. Domesticated cattle and pigs. A lot of snakes and did I mention birds?"

"What? Snakes! What was that about snakes?"

"There's a fairly large population of reptiles, but there's also a large number of mongoose as well; they keep them in check."

"Oh well then." He forced a fake chuckle.

"Arny it's actually quite beautiful in the forests there. There are a large number of spice plants and even orchids in different species. The trees themselves are interesting and different... and in large numbers."

"Paradise." He said sarcastically.

"For some." She removed her hand and sat up. "A few piddly details for your interest. Specific information on the trees being black-marketed. The hardwood trees are apitong, yacal, lacan, camagón, ipil, white and red narra and mayapis."

He looked at her. "Did you make those up?"

"I did not. There's also Bamboo and Mangrove, among others. They aren't hardwood but they're important and plentiful."

"Say those trees again."

"Apitong, yacal, lauan, camagón, ipil, white and red narra and mayapis."

"Same order! You memorized that!"

"Guilty."

The train began slowing and they both checked their watches then looked out the window. The scenery slowed to recognizable forms and farm fields and structures began appearing, along with the requisite scattering of livestock. The train slowed some more and a tinny voice came over the sound system announcing, Barrett Station.

"That's us." Gretta stood up, dragged the bags from the overhead shelf, and led the way down the aisle to the exit.

                                                            ><><><><

The town of Barrett was the stereotypical, one horse variety. A small hotel. A bank that shared space with a hardware store, a barbershop, a doctor slash dentist and a couple of other retail businesses. They felt there must be more somewhere, just not on the main drag. It was peopled with craggy looking farmers in coveralls and wide-brimmed hats, all driving dusty pickup trucks loaded with the same bales of wire, a few boards, small drums of patching tar and one or two hosted a sad-eyed looking dog. Gretta steered Arny toward the hotel and they went in, booked a room and inquired about Walter Gervais.

"You know Walter?" The young clerk asked.

"Nope, but we want to see him... it's personal." Gretta said, smiling and effectively ending any further questions. "You know where we might find him?"

He turned and looked at the clock. "This time of day he's likely at the doc's." The young man leaned closer and whispered ominously. "Cancer."

"That the one just a few doors up?" Arny asked, getting a nod.

They went up to their room and stowed their gear, washed, changed out of the wrinkled travelling clothes, then went right back out and up to the doctor's office.

"Guess privacy is a prisoner of gossip here." Arny observed.

"Why Arnold Wainright, how ever so profound!" She punched his arm and laughed brightly.

The little waiting room was a jumble of old, dog-eared magazines and kiddies' toys and a wooden coat rack with a sign suggesting folks just take their own coats when they leave.

Arny raised his eyebrows. "Big garment crime area."

Gretta walked over to the small slot in the frosted glass window and bent down. "Hello. Anybody home?"

"Like to be." A nasal voice answered. "But I hafta come here every day."

Gretta chuckled and asked if Walter Gervais was in with the doctor.

A face peered back through the slot and studied her. "He'll be out in a few minutes if you wanna wait."

She took a seat and Arny followed suit.

"Magazine?"

"Thanks anyway, it's last years."

"You could catch up."

Gretta ignored him and studied the various charts and diagrams around the room, displaying see-through body parts in various states of distress. One unsettling chart showed the result of liver disease, and some wag had written a caution on the corner that read, Doc's Home Cookin'. She nudged Arny just as the door opened and Marion's description of Walter materialized before them.

"These folks is waitin' to see you, Walter." The anonymous nasal voice squeaked.

"Walter Gervais? I'm Gretta Lawrence and this is my friend, Arny Wainright." She held out her hand and he took it automatically, a question on his face. "Can we go somewhere and talk, it's about your nephew, Chad?"