Daniel Suarez - Kill Decision

McKinney swiveled in her office chair to face a handsome young entomologist in a stained bowling shirt standing in the doorway. “Jesus, I completely lost track of time.” She got up and started grabbing rope bags, packs, helmets, and other climbing gear from nearby metal shelving.

“Don’t mention it.”

She cast a glance his way. “Sorry, Haloren. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“I didn’t do it for you. I did it for the kid.” He gestured to the computer monitors. “See, ’cause I know how engrossed you can get with your vicious little friends. I’m the same way with dung beetles.”

She laughed. “No, you’re not.”

“If you’re suggesting I wouldn’t have chosen my line of study if I’d known I was going to be picking larvae out of monkey shit all day, you’d be wrong. It’s fucking fascinating. Come over to my cabin some night and I’ll show you.”

“Yeah, I’ll take a pass, thanks.” McKinney knew that most of the women researchers found Haloren’s sarcasm and self-deprecating humor charming. He was a few years younger than she, in his late twenties, and handsome in a rakish way, but also cocky and too self-amused. He mocked everything and, most infuriatingly, was usually right about things that didn’t rise to her notice.

“Who’s your friend?”

McKinney followed Haloren’s pointed finger to the open window next to her workstation. Sitting there on the branch of a colorful bougainvillaea was a large black raven, staring calmly back at them. “I didn’t even notice him.”

“Check it out, he’s tagged.”

McKinney could see a leg band and tiny transponder glittering in the sun. “Someone with funding.”

“The few. The lucky few.” Haloren leaned against her desk. “You know, the Arabs say ravens are the harbinger of omens.”

“Save it for your grad students.” McKinney leaned in to the speakerphone on her desk. “Guys, I’ll be back in a few hours. I had an appointment I forgot. Keep the video running and work out any glitches as best you can in the meantime.”

There was a chuckle on the other end. “No problem, Professor.”

Haloren gave her a look. “Those guys were listening the whole time?”

McKinney shrugged and hung up. She then leaned out to grab the window handle and took one last look at the oddly calm-looking raven, only a few feet away. She’d never thought of ravens as being this big. It was easily the size of a hawk, with a powerful, thick beak that looked like it could crush walnuts. Deep black, penetrating eyes, studying her. It had a tiny, wirelike feather hovering over its head, like a black filament rooted somewhere in the feathers of its neck.

It cocked its head at her with an eerie, deliberate focus.

She took a close look at the transponder on its leg and could see a grid of tiny metallic dots. McKinney looked back up at the raven, who was still watching her. “Hi, there. Where are you from?”

The bird cocked its head again, and then let out a perfect imitation of a chain saw.

McKinney laughed and looked to Haloren in surprise. “I didn’t know ravens could do sound effects.”

“Yeah, they’re great at mimicry. My thesis advisor kept a raven. Pain in the ass. Regularly trashed his office, and it hated my guts.” Haloren waved his hands. “Shoo! Shoo!”

“So maybe it’s the sound of loggers he’s imitating?”

“Probably.”

She turned back to face the raven, but it had taken off, leaving a wagging branch behind. “Why’d you scare him away?” She shut and locked the window.

Haloren held the office door open for her, but pointedly didn’t offer to help lug the forty pounds of climbing gear she was hauling. “After you…”

McKinney marched through the door. “Lock it.”

“Got it. Got it.”

In a few moments they were walking fast on the bustling dirt road running down the center of the research station. Local Maasai people in both Western clothes and traditional kanga nodded to them and smiled as they walked past. Haloren engaged them in Swahili, getting laughs out of several. Some of the Maasai were texting on cell phones, getting current cattle and mango market prices from town-an odd mix of the modern and the traditional.

Haloren kept pace easily alongside her, encumbered as she was.

“You mind helping with this gear?”

“I would, but I’m a firm believer in the equality of my female colleagues. Hey, speaking of that: Doesn’t Adwele already have a mother?”

“Yes, but he’s missing a father.”

“You applying for the position?”

“Back off, Bruce. He’s a smart kid, and he’ll need all the help he can get. Babu didn’t leave much behind.”

“I’m just curious whether you’re doing it for Adwele or for yourself. You will be leaving at some point, you know.”

McKinney studied Haloren for a moment, then nodded as she realized he really was just looking after Adwele’s best interests. “I get what you’re saying, but Babu was a good friend. He kept me safe on more than a few research trips. If I can help his family, I will. Even after I go home.”

Haloren studied her too. Then he stopped suddenly. “All right, then. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Hey!”

Haloren turned.

“I promise not to tell anyone you’re not really an asshole.”

He saluted before heading off. “Much appreciated.”

She smirked, shaking her head as she watched him fall in alongside another researcher heading in the other direction.

McKinney hung in an arborist saddle sixty feet above the jungle floor. A cacophony of tropical birds and vervet monkeys echoed in the trees around her. She shaded her eyes against sunlight glittering between the leaves overhead and examined the tree’s crown, looking for weaver nests. Fortunately she didn’t see any.

The lowest branches of this Outeniqua yellowwood tree-or Afrocarpus falcatus — were still twenty feet above her. Her rope hung down from a branch even farther up. She had launched a throw line over it with a crossbow and hauled her climbing rope up after it, securing both ends using climbing knots and a dual line technique she’d learned as a grad student to hook up her harness.

Readjusting her position, McKinney gazed out across the jungle from this hilltop tree at the densely forested peaks of the Usambara Mountains still shrouded in mist in the distance. There was an immense diversity of sights and smells. It was always breathtaking up here. She never failed to notice how beautiful these mountains were, wrapped in low cloud cover and jungle canopy-humid and profuse with life. Reveling in the natural world was as close to the spiritual as McKinney got. She knew it was on this continent-possibly in this very jungle-that the first hominids arose, beginning the journey that separated mankind from the other animals. Becoming self-aware. She felt humbled by the vast stretch of history this place had seen.

She looked down to track the progress of her companion, a sinewy African boy of about ten. He, too, wore a rock-climbing helmet and sat in a climbing saddle suspended from a separate rope. He was laboriously working his way up-his booted foot looped through a rope stirrup. The boy grunted as he pushed up with his leg, ascending another few inches, then readjusting his knots.

McKinney pointed. “Don’t grab the Blake’s Hitch, or you’ll lose ground. Keep your hands below it. That’s better, Adwele. Good.” She smiled at him. “How you holding up? Need a rest?”

He shook his head. “No, miss. I’m good to go.”

She nodded. Adwele was always good to go, ready to learn something new. Unafraid. “Don’t push too hard. Take your time and concentrate on form.”

He glanced down. Then looked up, flashing a white smile. “Look how high we are!”