MICHAEL CRICHTON

At seven in the morning, they flew over the shimmering metal roofs of the tinand tantalum mining complex at Masisi. Munro, Kahega, and the other porterswent to the back of the plane, where they worked on the equipment, chatteringexcitedly in Swahili.Amy, seeing them go, signed, They worried.“Worried about what, Amy?”They worried men worry they worried problems. After a while, Elliot moved tothe rear of the plane to find Munro’s men half buried under great heaps of straw,stuffing equipment into oblong torpedo-shaped muslin containers, then packingstraw around the supplies. Elliot pointed to the muslin torpedoes. “What arethese?”“They’re called Crosslin containers,” Munro said. “Very reliable.”“I’ve never seen equipment packed this way,” Elliot said, watching the menwork. “They seem to be protecting our supplies very carefully.”“That’s the idea,” Munro said. And he moved up the aircraft to the cockpit, toconfer with the pilot.Amy signed, Nosehair man lie Peter. “Nosehair man” was her term for Munro,but Elliot ignored her. He turned to Kahega. “How far to the airfield?”Kahega glanced up. “Airfield?”“At Mukenko.”Kahega paused, thinking it over. “Two hours,” he said. And then he giggled.He said something in Swahili and all his brothers laughed, too.“What’s funny?” Elliot said.“Oh, Doctor,” Kahega said, slapping him on the back. “You are humorous byyour nature.”The airplane banked, making a slow wide circle in the air. Kahega and hisbrothers peered out the windows, and Elliot joined them. He saw only unbrokenjungle—and then a column of green jeeps, moving down a muddy track farbelow. It looked like a military formation. He heard the word “Muguru” repeatedseveral times.“What’s the matter?” Elliot said. “Is this Muguru?”Kahega shook his head vigorously. “No hell. This damn pilot, I warn CaptainMunro, this damn pilot lost.”“Lost?” Elliot repeated. Even the word was chilling.111