He’d already seen animals that made his mind boggle. Maybe they were real; maybe they were hallucinations as well. He’d seen monkeys with huge, bulbous noses; frogs the size of his thumb that were bright orange, or red, or blue; a perfectly formed adult elephant no taller than his shoulder; and a pig-like animal with dark hair and a long, pointed, flexible snout. How many of them were real, and how many a product of his fevered brain?

Beside him, Will Gimson stopped and bent over, hands on his knees, taking deep gulps of the steamy air. “Got to stop for a minute,” he said breathlessly. “Finding it hard to move.”

Hillager took the opportunity to mop his brow with a handkerchief that was probably wetter than his face. Maybe he was hallucinating because he was coming down with some kind of tropical fever. These Borneo forests were rife with strange diseases. He’d heard of men who’d been reported lost in the jungle wandering out after weeks missing, with the flesh of their faces covered in pustules, or literally sliding off the bone.

He looked around nervously. Even the trees seemed to mock him. Their trunks were twisted and gnarled, and smaller plants and vines grew out of them like parasites. They grew so close together than he couldn’t see the sky, and the only light that filtered down here was diffuse and shaded in green.

Despite the heat, he shivered. He wouldn’t be in this terrible place if he didn’t fear his employer even more.

“Let’s call it a day,” he urged. He really didn’t want to spend any more time in that jungle. He just wanted to get back to the port, load up the crated animals they’d already collected and get back to civilization. “It’s not here. We’ve already collected enough animals to make him happy. Leave this one behind. He won’t even notice.”