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corner of her mouth. “Well, a couple weeks ago we got our first jaguarundi. Female. A bad hind leg, so rehabilitation was out, but she was prime breeding age. I supervised her transfer to the zoo here for our breeding program. When I got into town this morning, I went to check on her, and she’s gone. No one knows anything. I’ve talked to everyone from the zoo administrator right up to the Minister of Environment. I figured they’d jump on it, but they just brushed me off. I know I’m just a foreign volunteer, but WRC is footing the bills. Shouldn’t we have some accountability?”
     
    Her outrage was so incredulous that Vicki had to smother an impulse to laugh. Welcome to Guatemala, Holly . “Did it ever occur to you that you got the brush-off because it’s not just your local workers doing the stealing?”
     
    Holly bristled. “Are you suggesting that one of our Guatemalan conservationists would even think of such a thing? If that isn’t a patronizing thing to say. You think they don’t care about their own country a lot more than we do? If anyone, why not accuse one of the American volunteers? Roger. Or Joe. Or even me. Unless you’re insinuating we’re somehow morally superior?”
     
    “That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it. But you’ve got to look at the odds. Who’s got the connections to pull it off? Not your short-term volunteers, American or otherwise. And let’s not be so sanctimonious. You’ve been here long enough to know that kickbacks are practically a job perk. Or are you telling me your zoo administrator and minister of environment don’t have a house in Zone 10? If so, they’re sure not doing it on government salaries.”
     
    Holly looked appalled. “You’re right. I . . . I never thought of it. But . . . environmentalists? It’s inconceivable. Inexcusable. So what do you think I should do? Confront them? Maybe if I could make them see how important these animals are to their future. The future of their country.”
     
    “Confront them?” Vicki didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You really think you’re going to tell these people that you know they’re lining their pockets? Or that you can just explain the environmental consequences of their actions? Now who’s patronizing. You think because this is a third world country, they can’t understand the implications of their actions? That if you beg them to be good, they’re going to throw up their hands and promise never to do it again?”
     
    “Should I call the police?”
     
    “Even if they haven’t been bought, you think they’re going to take on the local aristocracy on your say-so?” Vicki glanced at her watch again. “Let’s get out of here before we attract every beggar in the city. "Now, if you don’t mind, I really do need to get out of here.”
     
    At that moment a hand tugged at her arm.
     
    Instinctively tightening her grip on her purse, Vicki whirled around.
     
    Sure enough, it was another beggar, this one a woman; her handwoven huipil , the brightly embroidered peasant blouse, and wraparound skirt of the indigenous Mayan ragged and dirty, including the length of homespun binding a small child to her back. Pointing to the baby, she cupped a hand toward Vicki and Holly.
     
    Vicki was about to ignore the woman when she felt the feverish heat of the fingers clutching her arm and noticed the baby’s sunken eyes and mournful whimper. Closer scrutiny revealed that the Mayan woman was barely into her teens and little more than a child herself. Vicki dug into her purse.
     
    “Vicki, what are you doing?” Now it was Holly clutching her arm. “Come away from there. Don’t you know what kind of diseases these people could be carrying?”
     
    “Probably better than you do,” Vicki answered wryly. “Just hold on a minute. Can’t you see they’re sick?”
     
    Digging in her purse for  the card Evelyn McKie had given her, Vicki turned back to the Mayan beggar. Her Spanish was far from