Tine, just off a bit to the left."

She held out the bottle with a smile. The condensation glistened on the plastic: it had come straight out of the fridge. I nodded my thanks and stood up, catching my own reflection again in those fly's eye gla.s.ses of hers.

I sat back down against the tree, uns.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the top.

She looked down, fingering her hair behind her ears.

"It's a real hot one today."

"Sure is." It was routine, the bulls.h.i.t stuff that people exchange when they don't know each other, plus I was trying to keep her well away from any mention of last night. I got the bottle to my lips and took some long, hard swallows.

The plastic started to collapse in my fingers; I wasn't letting any air past the tight seal of my lips.

She stayed above me, hands on hips, in the same position as the Yes Man had taken a few days earlier, but without the att.i.tude.

The sight might've taken some knocks over the months. I use the iron sights, they're never off anyone out here in the open is within their range."

I stopped drinking. There was a pop and a gurgle as air rushed into the vacuum and the plastic resumed its normal shape.

"Ever had to?"

Her gla.s.ses hid any clues her eyes might be giving away.

"Once, a few years back. These things can happen out here, you know." She put out her hand for the water.

I watched as she threw her head back and took five or six gulps above me, her throat moving with each swallow. I could hear the fluid going down, and see the muscles in her right arm tauten as she tilted the bottle. Her skin had a light sheen of moisture; on me it would just have looked like sweat.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Question. If it's just for protection, how come you're checking the scope?" She pointed into the jungle.

"No good in there, is it?"

I gave her my most disarming smile.

"As I said, I just like to be prepared, that's all."

"And is that down to your training, or down to you?" She hesitated. I wished I could see her eyes.

"How do you get to do this sort of thing?"

I wasn't sure I could explain.

"Want to help me?"

She caught my tone and went with it.

"Sure."

We took the few paces over to the gra.s.sy mound.

"Is silence your way of dealing with it, Nick? I mean, is silence the way you protect yourself from the things you need to do for your work?"

I saw my reflection as I tried to look through her lenses: she was smiling, almost taunting me.

"All I want you to do is aim dead centre into the black circle. I just want to adjust the sights."

"One shot zero, right?"

"Right."

"OK, tell you what you aim, you're stronger. I'll adjust."

I opened the bolt, ejecting the empty case, reloaded and applied Safe as we reached the mound.

"I want the same elevation."

She raised her eyebrow.

"Sure." I was telling her how to suck eggs Instead of supporting it with my left hand, I started to push the stock into the mud. Her sandals were inches from my face.

"Tell me when."

I looked up. Her sungla.s.ses were now on the back of her neck with the arms facing forward and the black nylon retaining necklace dangling down on to her vest. Her huge green eyes were blinking to adjust to the light.

I started to pack mud around the stock: the weapon needed to be locked tight into position for this to work. Once that was done, I checked that the score marks were still in line on the sight, and aimed dead centre of the black circle.

"OK.".

There was an "Affirmative' from above as she pushed down on the mound with her sandal led foot, compacting the earth around the stock as I held it firmly in position. My arms strained as I tried to keep the weapon in a vice-like grip to ensure the post sight stayed dead centre. I could have done this on my own but it would have taken a whole lot longer.

She had finished packing the soil over the weapon and I still had a good sight picture, so I told her this "On' and moved my head to the left so she could lean over and see the target through the sight. Our heads touched as her right hand moved on to the windage dial on the left side of the optic, and started to turn it. I heard a series of metallic clicks as she moved the post left until the point of aim was directly below the two rounds that I had fired, whilst remaining in line with the centre of the black circle.

It only took her fifteen seconds, but it was time enough for me to smell the soap on her skin, and feel the gentle movement of air as she controlled her breathing.

My breath stank after not brushing since Sat.u.r.day, so I moved my lips to divert the smell away from us both as she clicked away. She moved her head back more quickly than I wanted her to and squatted on her knees.

"OK, done." I could feel the warmth of her leg against me.

I had to move my arm out of the way to drag my Leatherman out of my pocket and pa.s.sed it up to her, glad that I'd cleaned it.

"Score it for me, will you?"

She opened out the knife blade and leant over to sc.r.a.pe a line from the dial on to the metal housing of the optic, so I'd be able to tell if the dial had been inadvertently moved, knocking the zero off.

Her vest was gaping in front of me as she worked and I couldn't stop myself looking. She must have seen me: I couldn't move the focus of my gaze quickly enough as she returned to her kneeling position.

"Who sprinkled you with h.o.r.n.y dust?" There was a smile to go with her question, and she kept her big green eyes on mine, but her expression couldn't have given me a bigger no.

"Are you going to confirm?"

Pulling the weapon from the mud, I cleared my throat.

"Yeah, I suppose I'll annoy the birds again."

She stood up to get out of the way.

"Ooookay ..."

I rec.o.c.ked and went through the firing sequence, aiming at the centre of the circle and, sure enough, I p.i.s.sed off the birds again big-time.

The zero was good; the round went in directly above the point of aim, roughly in line with the other two rounds to the left. At 300 the round should cut paper slightly above the circle, but I'd soon find out.

I was still looking through the sight when I felt Carrie's knees against my arm again.

"Is it OK?" I kept my eye on my shot, still checking. Teah, it's fine.

Dead on."

I ejected the round and moved my head away from the sight as she leant over to pick up the empty cases.

We stood up together and she walked back into the shade as I cleaned the mud off the rifle's furniture.

"If that wasn't a window to your mind, I don't know what is."

Maybe I should have worn her Jackie Os.

Tour eyes aren't as silent as your mouth, are they?"

I heard the metallic clink of the empty cases as she threw them into the ammo box. She sat down under a tree, crossing her legs.

I worked hard to think of something to say as I walked over to her.

"How did the house come to be here? I mean, it's a bit off the beaten track, isn't it?"

She picked up the bottle and took a swig as I settled down a few feet away. We faced each other and I took the water when she offered it to me.

"A rich hippie guy built it in the sixties. He came down here to escape the draft." The fly's eyes looked at me, and the smile stayed on her face as she fished out a tobacco tin and Zippo from her cargos.

"He swapped the forests of Vietnam for the forests of Panama. Apparently he was a real character, kept the dealers and bars in Chepo in business for over twenty years. He died maybe eight or nine years ago."

There was a pop as the tin opened, and she picked out one of the three or four ready-prepared roll-ups. She giggled to herself, showing a set of brilliant white teeth as she checked the cigarette was still intact. The lenses turned on me again and my reflection moved up and down with her shoulders as she started to laugh.

"Got killed by a logger's truck after a night hitting the bars. He staggered out into the road, trying to stop the truck from leaving, claiming that the wood belonged to the forest and it had spirit. Strangely enough, the truck seemed not to hear him, and that was that. Sawdust."

I laughed with her, seeing in my mind's eye the absurd contest of man versus truck. She flicked the Zippo deftly and lit up. The twisted end of the roll-up flared as she took a deep breath, held it, then slowly exhaled. An unmistakable smell filled the air between us. She chuckled to herself before finishing off the story.

"He was the one who had spirit, but unfortunately for him that night it was all in his bloodstream."

I took in more water as she turned her gaze once more to the building, picking bits of Rastafarian Old Holborn from her lips.

"He'd left the house and the land to the university, for research. We've been here nearly six years now. Cleared the land out back for the helicopter. Even put up the extension ourselves."

She turned back and offered me the joint.

I shook my head. If other people wanted to, that was up to them, but it was something I'd never even thought of trying.

She shrugged and took another drag. We can only do it out of the house so Luz doesn't catch us. She'd freak if she knew what Mommy was doing right now. Talk about role reversal." She inhaled deeply, her face s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up as the smoke blew from her mouth.

"I suppose someone like you wouldn't do this, would you? Maybe you're worried you'll drop that guard of yours. What do you think?"

"Aaron told me you met at the university ..."

She nodded as I started to fill the magazine with more rounds.

"Eighty-six.

Without him I'd never have had the stamina to get my Ph.D. I was one of his students."

She looked at me and smiled expectantly, obviously well used to the reaction to her announcement. I probably fell in with the one she antic.i.p.ated.

Her tone challenged me.

"Oh, come on, Nick, have you never been attracted to an older woman?"

Teah, Wonder Woman, but that was when I was the same age as Luz."

I'd made her laugh, though maybe the giggle weed had a little to do with it.

"Half the university staff ended up marrying a student. Sometimes they had to divorce one student to set up with another but, hey, why should the course of true love run smoother in a faculty building than any other place?"

I sensed it was a well-rehea.r.s.ed explanation of their relationship.

"Staying here to study while the folks went back up north and got divorced was great," she went on.

"You know, straitlaced Catholic family gone wrong the rebellious teenage years, father not understanding that sort of stuff." Her gla.s.ses pointed my way and she smiled, maybe thinking about those good times as she took another drag. There's even a kind of convention about sleeping with your teacher, you know. Not exactly as a rite of pa.s.sage, more a visa stamp, proof you've been there. Someone like you would understand that, no?"

I shrugged, never having known anything about what went on at those places, but now wishing I did.

She picked up the fully loaded rifle that lay between us. The bolt was back and she checked chamber before laying the weapon across her knees, then slowly moved the bolt forward to pick the top round out of the magazine, feeding it into the chamber. But instead of locking down the bolt as you would to fire, she pulled it back so the bra.s.s round was ejected from the chamber with a clink and into the gra.s.s. Then she pushed the bolt home again to repeat the action.

"How does Luz fit in here?" Even as I started to speak I knew I'd f.u.c.ked up, but it was too late to stop the flow.

"She isn't your natural child, is she?"

She might have been: she could have had her with somebody else. I was crashing and burning here. I tried to recover. I didn't mean that, what I mean is, she isn't-' She laughed and cut in to save me.

"No, no, you're right, she isn't. She's kind of fostered."