Warren Murphy: Bamboo Dragon

"My assistant, Dr. Moreland."

Stockwell made the introduction with a flourish, not quite showing off his prize, but close enough.

And what a prize she was. A honey blonde, blue eyes that gave her angel face a hint of something more sophisticated, verging on exotic. World-class breasts, unfettered beneath a Thai silk blouse. Legs better suited to the runway at a fashion show than any jungle game trail.

"Call me Audrey, please."

"My pleasure. Renton Ward."

Her mentor stepped between them, steering Remo toward the hulk who manned the door. "Pike Chalmers," Stockwell said. "Our designated troubleshooter, if you will."

Some kind of military background there, thought Remo. Maybe service as a mercenary, once he pulled the pin. Pike Chalmers had the look of someone who enjoyed the act of killing for its own sake, as a form of sport.

The hand he offered Remo could have doubled for a catcher's mitt. His grip would be a calculated crusher, showing off, and Remo braced himself, prepared for anything.

"So, you're the reptile man," said Chalmers, tightening his grip.

"That's right."

The trick was not resistance or brute force, but a strategic application of sufficient pressure to the carpal nerves and tendons. Remo felt the big man's knuckles crunch together like ball bearings, but restrained himself from breaking any bones. The big man grimaced and retrieved his hand, concealing it behind his back as he began to flex the fingers, testing them for damage.

"And, of course, our escort from the Ministry of the Interior," said Stockwell, guiding Remo toward a slim Malaysian in his thirties. "Second Deputy Sibu Bintulu Sandakan."

The small man bowed ever so slightly from the waist in lieu of shaking hands. Ordinarily Remo followed more-casual American manners, but some past drilling by Chiun prompted him to follow suit. So he took care to show the proper courtesy, his bow a bit more solemn and pronounced, accentuated by averting his gaze. The second deputy of who-knows-what seemed pleased.

"I hope you will accept the greetings and best wishes of my government," said Sibu Sandakan. "It is my privilege to accompany such fine, distinguished guests on their excursion to the bush."

"The privilege is ours," said Remo, wrapping up the niceties.

He glanced around the room at each face in turn, alert for any sign that one or more of them were disappointed or surprised to find him still alive. Pike Chalmers, glaring back at Remo like a wounded bear, would require watching, but there was nothing in his manner to suggest that he had hired the gang of thugs to waylay Remo in the marketplace. If anything, he seemed more like the sort of man who would enjoy attending to the dirty work himself. As for the others, Sandakan and Stockwell seemed innocuous enough, while Audrey Moreland favored Remo with a smile that stopped just short of flirting.

So much for deduction.

Simple logic told him that some person in the room—and possibly some two- or three-way combination—had conspired to rub him out before the expedition left K.L. Whoever was responsible was more adept at covering than Remo had expected. There would be no giveaway disclosures, nothing to betray the ringer here and now, before they hit the grueling jungle trail.

But Dr. Smith's suspicions were confirmed, at least, if nothing else. There obviously was a ringer on the team, or more than one, who meant to safeguard what was perceived as a potential fortune by eliminating any wild cards from the deck.

How had the ringer penetrated Remo's cover? Was the bungled hit a simple effort to ensure that no untested strangers joined the team? Were all of them involved, including the unfortunately sidelined Dr. Otto?

"Shall we get to business, then?" asked Stockwell, bringing Remo's thoughts back to the here and now.

"Suits me."

Five chairs had been positioned to surround a glass-topped coffee table, where a two-by-three-foot topographic map lay open, anchored on the left and right by ashtrays. Remo took a seat with Audrey Moreland on his right, Pike Chalmers facing him across the table. Dr. Stockwell took a folding pointer from his pocket, snapped it open and craned forward in his chair to start the briefing.

"We are here," he said, the pointer tapping a spot on the map that was named for Kuala Lumpur. "And our final destination… is… here."

The pointer slid a foot or so to Stockwell's left and settled on a patch of blue that had to be a lake, its several fingers splayed as if to mimic the impression of a malformed hand.

"The Tasek Bera," Stockwell said, his voice pitched low to emphasize the drama. "It's 64.7 miles due east, in Pahang Province. It appears to be an easy trip on paper."

"Easy, nothing," Chalmers said. "That jungle's broken more good men than I can name."

"As I was saying—" Stockwell caught himself just short of glaring at the hulk "—it seems an easy trip on paper, but we have our work cut out for us. We'll have to make the trip in stages, starting with a flight tomorrow morning, up to Temerloh. From there, we take a riverboat due south, another forty miles, to Dampar. That will be our jumping-off point, as it were. No airstrip at Dampar, you see."

"No bloody road worth mentioning," Chalmers added.

Dr. Stockwell cleared his throat before continuing. "We'll meet our guide in Dampar. Deputy Sandakan has taken care of the arrangements there."

"Indeed," the little Malay said to no one in particular. "We have engaged one of the best guides in the province for your expedition."

"From the time we leave Dampar," Stockwell went on, "it should take perhaps three days to reach the Tasek Bera proper. We will travel by canoe as far as possible, but I'm afraid there'll be some hiking at the end."

"A bloody lot of hiking," Chalmers said, still glaring hard at Remo.

"I'll keep up the best I can," offered Remo, smiling at the hulk.

"You haven't spent much time in Asia, have you?" Audrey Moreland touched his forearm lightly as she spoke, then casually withdrew her hand.

"Not much," said Remo, sticking to the script.

"I've read your work on New World vipers," Stockwell said. "It was a fascinating piece of research."

"This will be a change from South America," said Remo, putting on a small, self-deprecating smile.

"No end of bloody snakes, though, if that's what you care for," Chalmers said.

"Some of them must be dangerous," said Audrey, sounding more like a B-movie damsel in distress than a professor on the verge of making history.

"There is some risk, of course," said Remo. "Kraits and cobras are the greatest hazard where we're going, though I doubt we'll be fortunate enough to glimpse a king cobra."

"Lord, I hope not." Audrey shuddered at the very notion, her round breasts wobbling slightly underneath the clinging fabric of her blouse.

"Most of the Malaysian vipers, by contrast, tend to be smaller and less aggressive. The genus Trimeresurus is widely represented, with both terrestrial and arboreal species, but they seldom trouble man unless directly threatened."

"What about the big ones?" This time, Audrey let her fingers come to rest on Remo's knee.

"Reticulated pythons are the ones to watch," he told her, turning up the wattage on his smile. "Officially, the record is just over thirty-two feet."

"They must be dangerous, as well," said Audrey.

"Not unless you go out of your way to tackle one," he answered. "Of course, there is one documented case in which a fourteen-year-old Malay boy was eaten by a seventeen-foot python. As it happens, that's the only case on record of a human being swallowed whole."

"Can you imagine?" Audrey shivered. "Being eaten up alive."

"I wouldn't worry," Remo said. "You're much more likely to be eaten by mosquitoes."