“What of the diamond mines?” The English lady held her hand up to let the light bounce off her diamond. “Surely, there are jobs there.”
“The current government shut some of them down when it surfaced the diamonds were being used to sponsor rebels in neighboring countries who wanted to take down their governments. So, for now, this is not an option. There is trouble in Gaborone. The military has threatened to take over if the elections aren’t held soon to seat a more moderate leader, who will stimulate the economy with foreign investments and exploratory mining. Some even want a dam along the Okavango to generate more electricity for a growing population.”
“And all of this wild land?” Dr. Girard leaned forward, thinking of John and his village.
“Would be underwater. The animals displaced or drowned. Tourism dried up. Villagers homeless and moved to urban areas where they’d be exposed to drugs and other criminal endeavors. This hope generates conflict. We don’t need any more nonsense. John came here to escape the discord. He was expected to go into politics or mining, but he chose to help his village and family here. Good man, although I suspect he is into something else at times. I keep an eye on him.”
The conversation drifted into less controversial topics as a breeze from the Okavango River swept across the camp and fruit bats made their puppy-like barks from high in the trees. The fire pit glowed with dying embers when the group separated with huge flashlights in hand to guide them back to their tents. They were reminded of an early wake-up call as they said good night to rest for another adventure at morning’s first light.
With the rising sun, two Tswana girls of not more than twenty brought trays for the campers. Pots of hot tea and a small plate of biscuits was placed on a folding chair outside each tent. The girls offered a warm greeting in hopes of stirring their guests awake. Dr. Girard was already dressed and ready as the sun rose above the horizon. He watched the blue waters of the Okavango turn to blades of wavy silver. When a troop of baboons wandered through camp, the rapid click of his camera hurried them along.
When the last of the campers entered the dining area, Clive rushed in to speak to the group. “I’m so sorry to tell you this.”
“What is it, Clive?” the Australian woman asked as she stepped forward.
“Three of our workers were attacked by a Cape buffalo on their way to camp this morning.”
“Oh Lord, not John!” fussed the English lady, laying her hand on her heart.
“Thankfully, no.”
A sigh of relief went up among the group.
“Two managed to climb trees, but the third man was gored severely. I must ask you to be cautious of your picture taking. Animals sense when something has gone wrong. Your morning activities must be postponed for a short time.”
Dr. Girard placed a hand on Clive’s shoulder. “Take me to him. Maybe I can help.”
“I hope so. I’ve put a call in on my radio. A seaplane will be here within the hour. Come. He’s on the outskirts of camp.”
“How did he get there?” Dr. Girard asked as they jogged toward a shack where several men stood nervously, speaking in whispers.
“Other workers came along with pistols they used to scare the animals away in cases like this. Usually they travel together, but these three set out early and got caught off guard.” He opened the door wider to let the doctor pass through. “I’m going to check on the plane. Tell these men if you need anything that isn’t already here. Thank you, Doctor. Mose is a trusted worker. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.”
The doctor stared at the unconscious man covered in blood and knew, even before he drew closer, the seaplane would do him no good. The wounds were deep and in all the wrong places to survive. Dr. Girard decided he would go with the man to offer what comfort he could, though. A few of the men asked him questions, and he offered encouragement but remained vague.
“He is my father,” one man confessed. “I have no money to save him.”
The doctor frowned and took the wounded man’s pulse. “I will see he gets what he needs.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
Heads bobbed as they spoke in a language the doctor couldn’t understand.
The sound of a circling plane reached his ears. He ran outside to search the sky then blocked the glare of the morning sun with a hand over his eyes. The buzz of an engine drawing closer finally helped him pinpoint the white plane descending to the calm waters of the snake-shaped Okavango River. A flock of birds near the water’s edge flew up and away, adding squawking to the revved-up sound of the plane.
At a popping sound, the group of men turned their heads toward the noise. They cried out as they pointed toward the bush separating the village and the safari camp, some eight hundred meters away where a plume of smoke rose. They ran toward the village.
The doctor cried out, “What is going on? I need help carrying this man to the plane.”
The son stopped, tears flowing down his cheeks. “I must go. Thank you for what you tried to do.” Then he joined the others scurrying through the bush like impalas in fear of a stalking lion.
The doctor ran inside and recognized the death stare of a man gone to meet his chosen maker. He wanted to whisper a prayer, but the rapid popping noise drew him back outside where the sound of a plane touching water created a sense of hope for mere seconds. More disturbing noises—screams from the camp where he’d left his newfound friends—frightened him as he tried to decide what to do. More automatic gunfire followed.
A tall man carrying a bundle stumbled from the bush. Blood gushed from a head wound.
“Doctor!” It was John, their guide. “Doctor, help me.”
“John, what on earth is going on? You’re hurt.” He tried to touch his head, but John jerked away. He smelled of smoke, feces, and fear.
“The government men are coming for me, for my village. They are killing everyone. You must escape.” Dr. Girard followed John’s gaze to where a man disembarked from the plane to the dock. John shoved the bundle into the doctor’s arms. “Take my son, Doctor, and give him a life I cannot.”
Before he could protest, more shots buzzed overhead, and both of them ducked.
“Please, Doctor.” John ran back toward the danger as the doctor stared at the newborn squirming in his arms. The guide circled back, pressing an object into Dr. Girard’s hand. “This is for my son—his legacy, his promise. Good doctor. I am trusting you with the future of my village and country.” He bent to kiss the top of the baby’s head and whispered, “You are the Kifaru.”
Clive, the camp director, staggered out into the open, a dark spot spreading across his chest. He fell facedown onto the ground covered in elephant droppings. Dr. Girard whirled around to see the pilot wave him forward in wide desperate motions before hustling back on board. By the time the doctor swung open the door, the propeller spun.
The seaplane moved forward even as he slammed the door shut. The mewing of the newborn child brought an anxiousness to his heart, yet he couldn’t resist looking down at the Okavango River, the camp, and the bush crawling with men carrying guns who surrounded one man he believed might be John. The muzzle flash of several weapons dropped the man to his back. When the soldiers ran away, the doctor believed he saw the fallen man raise his hand toward them, but the plane banked away, leaving the slaughter for the evening news.
In all the years since, the doctor had wondered if there was more he could have done. He had also pondered why he had been spared by the wings of an angel pilot rescuing him and a baby boy at the exact time when they needed help.
He’d buckled the seat belt and pulled the child to his chest. “Your father gave you to me for safekeeping. I will find out why.”
With the story concluded, tears streamed down his face. “Your child did not fuss or demand to be fed. It was as if he knew it wasn’t a time to protest what could not be changed. We stared at each other until the plane arrived in Maun.” He squeezed Keeya’s hand. “By then I knew I loved him and my life would never
be the same. My wife loved him like no other until the day she died.”
Chapter Seventeen
Because Baboloki refused to leave Keeya in the care of the medical clinic, she ended up joining the others in the boats heading to the safari camp deep into the Okavango. The doctor explained she had been dehydrated and airsick. With a little rest and nourishment, she should recover quickly. The president thanked him and didn’t bother to escort her to the boats.
“He walks like one of those pompous peacocks he’s got walking around his house,” Chase mumbled to Tessa as they climbed into the second boat. Handsome decided it would be better if he drove the lead boat with the president and his people in case they ran into trouble. Light was fading and he planned to take a shortcut back to camp.
“That woman, Keeya, seems to have bounced back. She was too sweet when she thanked Handsome for carrying her to the clinic.” Tessa chuckled. “She’s looking at him like he’s a god.”
Chase eased into the second boat. He took one of the blankets the driver passed out and opened it across them after taking the outside seat. The air would be chilly this late in the day as they sped through the waters.
It was amusing to watch Carter try to do the same for Sam who yanked it from him and completed the task herself, leaving him uncovered. When they pulled away from the dock, she seemed to have a change of heart and shared it with him but ignored the gesture by staring at the flock of marabou storks flapping their wings in a tree overhanging the far shore.
“Those are marabou.” The driver pointed with one hand while maneuvering out into deeper water with the other. Guides in the Okavango took every opportunity to share something about their delta.
“Their wingspan must be six feet.” Tessa squinted to guard against the sinking sun. “Don’t storks like to be closer to the ground?”
“Yes. Yes. That is true. When it is mating season, they nest in the trees. Usually they search for carrion, but during season they look for the babies.”
“Why are they making so much noise? Are they scared of us?”
Chase enjoyed the sound of Tessa’s voice. She was incapable of turning off the teacher in her, constantly searching for knowledge.
“They rattle their beaks to attract a mate.”
Chase sat behind Carter and Sam. He watched him lean in to Sam, making a clicking sound with his teeth. She lifted her lips in a snarl then narrowed her eyes. The woman had the patience of a rattlesnake.
They sped up to keep pace with the lead boat. The chilly wind slammed into his face. He liked Tessa fussing over him more than he wanted to admit as she tucked the blanket around them. She mouthed, “Are you okay?”
Chase nodded when she timidly tangled her fingers with his. Normally, he would have recoiled at such a gesture from a woman. Touching hands with a female was another one of those taboos he’d set up years ago. Too intimate, too personal, too much like a commitment. He avoided it like the plague. Instead, he would fold the lady’s arm through his, suggesting a warmth he really couldn’t experience. But with Tessa, the forbidden fruit of his life, he found himself clamping his large hand around hers in a firm grip. She smiled up at him then turned to enjoy the beautiful sunset before them.
The quickening of his heartbeat whispered he should pull away, but instead, he recollected all the times he’d found ways to touch her over the last couple of years. Tessa was the one thing in his life that made him feel weak and frustrated. They’d become best friends, or at least it felt that way sometimes. The fear in her eyes when they first met had faded to admiration and mischief. Only once, in the middle of a night some time back, had she indicated a willingness to be with him in the way he envisioned.
Afghanistan had been a breeding ground for uncertainty, fear, and longing. That night had held promises of a forever love, but he chose to run toward duty rather than take a chance on a woman who could heal and love him unconditionally in spite of all his faults. Another man stepped in to steal that hope away and most likely, any chance of rekindling those emotions in her again. He’d decided to be satisfied with these moments.
Soon, something would need to be done about her husband who showed all the signs of a man who couldn’t be trusted. Part of the reason they were in Botswana was the hornets’ nest he’d stirred up with conflict diamonds. He didn’t like Robert, but it was the tribesman from Afghanistan who really might stand in his way.
Tessa had little resolve when it came to the drug-running traitor called Roman Darya Petrov. He’d wormed his way into her psyche and still held a certain amount of power over her heart. Dr. Wu, the Enigma psychiatrist, called it Stockholm syndrome, where a captive embraces her kidnapper’s motives and ideology. He suspected they’d been in touch, but she never brought it up and according to Dr. Wu, she hadn’t with him, either, not that he would have shared the information. The doctor understood the importance of a healthy agent, so his focus remained on her well-being, not Chase’s pathetic ego. Still, he wished he’d killed him when he had the chance.
“I’m exhausted.” Tessa yawned. “Look at the camp. Isn’t it beautiful with the lanterns all aglow? Very romantic.” She released his hand, snapping him out of his tormented thoughts. “Why don’t we go clean up then come back for some dinner. We’ll turn in early.”
Chase managed a grunt then pushed off the blanket. His side ached, and fatigue had overtaken him. “Don’t really want to be sociable. Think I’ll stay back tonight.”
“I’ll get a tray for us and stay with you.” Tessa waved at Peter who helped the men tie up the boats. “I promised Dr. Girard I’d look after you.”
“I’m fine. I don’t need a nurse,” he grumbled as he tried to help Tessa exit the boat. She turned and offered a hand instead. He reluctantly took it, just wanting to go to bed.
“I see that. And don’t bite my head off. I’m only trying to help,” she snapped. “You’re such a baby.”
No one had ever called him that before, and he wasn’t sure if he should toss her in the water or laugh. He cocked his head to steal a look at Sam and Carter who had raised their eyebrows and grinned sheepishly. Several colorful comebacks were vying to spill from his mouth when Tessa laid a hand on his arm.
“I’m sorry, big guy. I’m still a little frightened at what happened to us. You must be in a lot of pain,” she whispered. “You fuss all you want, but I’m sticking to you like glue.”
Baboloki and his people already trudged toward the dining area. The president stopped long enough to allow Keeya to catch up with him. He gently touched her back then moved away, leaving her to follow again. She held her head high and moved with more assurance and strength than earlier in the afternoon. Did it have anything to do with finding out her son had been spared Baboloki’s murderous hand?
Chase and Tessa caught up with Carter and Sam.
“You guys go on. We’ll join you later to talk,” Carter murmured. “Tess, no need for you to join us for dinner unless you want to. We’ll shower and change then join the others.”
Chase took a deep breath and agreed. “Be careful. Something is going on. I’ll share with you later. Listen for anything unusual.”
Sam chimed in as she and Carter split off to their tent. “I’ll have Handsome send down a tray of food. You need to keep up your strength.” The twilight of evening gave her glare at Tessa a sinister vibe. “No matter how much he complains about it, take care of him or there will be hell to pay. Got it?”
With a snap to attention and a military salute, Tessa barked, “Yes, ma’am.”
Sam halted and twisted around with a threatening stance. Carter smirked at Chase then reached out and grabbed the senior agent, pulling her after him, even as she tried to jerk free. His laughter rolled across the open space. Chase let his guard down when Tessa slipped her arm through his.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed or do you like tormenting Sam?” He slipped free of her hold then placed his arm around her shoulders. The pressure on his wounds eased.
“I
don’t know what you mean, Captain Hunter,” she chuckled. “I was being respectful of a senior agent.”
“She pretty much ordered you to take care of me so I wouldn’t want to cause more trouble between you two. It’s for your own protection.” They shared a spontaneous moment of light laughter and approached their tent. The effort to walk up three steps surprised him.
Tessa released him. “Oh right. I say I’m going to watch over you, and you get all Captain America on me.” She unzipped the door and held it open for him to pass through then followed. “Agent Nymphomaniac spits a little venom, and you’re amused.” She helped him sit down on the bed and bent down to unlace his boots.
“What are you doing? Stop it.”
Tessa straightened. “Okay. Do it yourself. I’m going to go take a shower. I was going to help you with that, too, but I see you’re…” She laughed when he frowned up at her. He could feel his forehead pinch with indecision. “Your pride will be the death of both of us. It’s okay to ask for help once in a while. All that talk at Enigma about how we’re a family applies to you, too. Family takes care of family.” She folded her arms across her chest and arched her eyebrows, speaking with her irritated-mom voice. “You can’t fool me, Chase.”
Chase tried to stand up, but she gently pushed him back down, aware taking orders from anyone else rubbed him the wrong way. “You are getting frisky because you think I’ll balk and leave you alone with your macho crap.”
“Frisky?” A grin toyed at the corners of his mouth. “Do I look like the kind of guy who gets frisky? I think I’m insulted. When I—”
“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I’ve heard all about your charms in the bedroom. If I have to suffer listening to one more of your brainy bimbos brag on the night they had with you, I’m going to--”
Black Mamba Page 13
