Paul grinned. “Looks as if you're about to fire Mr. von Hoffman from his job.”

“And for good reason. Even if what you have to say about yourselves is true, that you are not couriers, this does not change the fact that Dieter here tried to steal from us. We had been looking for an extremely valuable plant that could be worth millions, billions possibly, to the pharmaceutical, food, and perfume industry. It's quite a wonder. We were going to take samples to Europe for analysis. The natives have been using it for decades, although not for perfume, unfortunately.”

“You seem to have solved your problem,” Gamay said. “You have both Dieter and the specimens.”

“I wish it were as simple as that,” Arnaud said with an edge in his voice. “True, we have this pig, but our valuable plant samples seem to have disappeared.”

“I'm afraid I don't understand.”

“We had heard of this amazing plant from the natives, but none of them was able to locate it. We had gone far beyond our original area of operations into uncharted parts of the forest which is where we came across the Indian you were later to find dead. He had samples of the plant in his possession. We offered to pay him to show us where he got the specimens, but he refused. We made him our guest in the hopes we could persuade him to change his mind.”

Paul remembered the welts on the Indian's body. “So when he wouldn't talk, you shot him.”

“Oh, no, nothing so simple as that. In fact we were doing our best to keep him alive. Dieter was in charge of providing hospitality and safeguarding the specimens. He got drunk one night and let him escape. The poor devil was shot stealing a canoe. We assumed he got away with the specimens. In which case he would have had them when you found him.”

“What did these specimens look like?” Paul asked.

“Quite unimpressive, really. Small tapered leaves with red veins which give the plant its local name, blood leaf.”

“We examined the contents of the Indian's bag,” Paul said. “There was a medicinal pouch full of folk medicine herbs. Nothing like you described.”

“So,” Arnaud said. He turned a scornful eye back to Dieter. “You said the Indian left with the plant in his possession. Who is telling the truth?”

“I don't know what they're talking about,” Dieter countered. “The Indian took his bag and everything in it.”

“I don't think so,” Arnaud said quietly. “If they had the plant specimens, they would not have come back and acted so stupidly. I think you have what we want.” He cocked his revolver. “And if you don't tell me where it is, I shall kill you.”

“Then you'd never find it, Arnaud,” the Dutchman said, dredging up a shred of defiance. It was bad timing. Arnaud was clearly in no mood to dally.

“True, but before I killed you I'd turn you over to my painted friends here. They would have no compunction against skinning you like a monkey.”