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all, they were hardly likely to kill her or leave her behind in the jungle to die. Despite Rick's failings as both a man and a brother, he wasn't a murderer. At least, she hoped he would balk at any attempt to harm her. She reserved judgment on Steven Kates, but on the surface he seemed to be civilized. If he proved to be otherwise, she would be prepared.
    Finding a weapon in any large city wasn't a difficult task, and Jillian wasn't timid about it. She would have brought one from the States if she had been confident of getting it through customs, but smuggling a weapon was rather different from smuggling birth control pills, especially if she'd been caught.
    She walked slowly past the line of taxis in front of another hotel, studying the drivers without making it obvious. She was looking for one who didn't look quite as prosperous as the others, though none of them looked well off. Maybe "seedy" was the word. Finally she selected one; he was unshaven, a little more slovenly than the others, his eyes bloodshot. She walked up to the vehicle with a smile, and in her imperfect Portuguese asked to be taken to the docks.
    The driver wasn't inclined to talk. Jillian waited a few moments as he negotiated the traffic in the crowded streets before calmly saying, "I want to purchase a weapon. Do you know where I can find one?"
    He glanced quickly in the rearview mirror. "A weapon, senhora?"
    "A pistol. I prefer an automatic, but it doesn't matter if it's a… a—" She couldn't think of the word for "revolver" in Portuguese. She made a circle with her finger and said "revolver" in English.
    His dark eyes were both wary and cynical. "I will take you to a place," he said. "I will not stay. I do not want to see you again, senhora."
    "I understand." She gave him a reassuring smile. "Will I be able to find another taxi back to the hotel?"
    He shrugged. "There are many tourists. Taxis are everywhere."
    By that she assumed she might or might not be able to catch another taxi. If necessary, she would walk to a public telephone and call for one, though she didn't relish the idea of walking in this heat. She had dressed sensibly in a thin cotton skirt, and her legs were bare, but a steam bath was a steam bath no matter what you were wearing.
    He drove her to a rather seedy section of town, run-down but not yet a slum. She gave him a generous tip and didn't look back as she walked into the shop he had indicated.
    Within half an hour she was the owner of a .38 automatic, easy to clean and maintain, and an impressive supply of ammunition weighted down her shoulder bag. The man who had sold it to her hadn't even looked curious. Perhaps American women bought weapons from him every day; it didn't take much of a stretch of imagination to visualize it. He even called a taxi for her and allowed her to wait just inside his door until the vehicle appeared.
    When she got to the hotel she found that Rick and Kates still hadn't returned, but she hadn't expected them. Rick was still so put out that he might well leave her on her own all night, a prospect she knew he hoped would alarm her, but it didn't. She wasn't there to sightsee, and the room service menu was more than adequate; it wouldn't bother her at all to remain at the hotel for the rest of the day. She would even welcome the chance to rest.
    But Rick and Kates returned to the hotel late that afternoon and came to her room, both of them smiling and in a good mood. Jillian smelled liquor on their breath, but they weren't drunk.
    "We found a guide," Rick announced jovially, having finally come out of his sulks. "We're supposed to meet him at seven to do the planning."
    "Here at the hotel?" It seemed convenient to her.
    "Naw, at this bar where he hangs out. You'll have to come. You know more about this planning stuff than we do."
    Jillian sighed inwardly. She could think of better places to discuss this than in a crowded bar where any number of people might overhear them. "Who is the guide? I don't