Brian wished he’d had a second to coordinate with the pilot and the crew. He knew that arrangements had been made to put them up for as long as he needed them, but he’d have felt better knowing the exact details. Father Brian Morrigan liked order. Within moments the semi-civilized buildings and low-slung Quonset huts had given way to huge, towering trees alive with life. Birds flew from the brush in great fluttering bursts of color and sound as they passed. Father Morrigan kept his eyes straight ahead and held the briefcase tightly against his chest, wrapped in his arms. Once or twice he noticed flitting shadows to one side of the road or the other, but he ignored them as best he could. The driver remained silent. His gaze was fixed on the road ahead, and Father Morrigan guessed from the tightness of the man’s grip on the wheel that it was taking all of his concentration to keep the speeding vehicle under control. That wasn’t all of it, though. Father Morrigan remembered the fleeting glimpse of something in the man’s eyes – something dark and not quite pleasant.
