by Andy Briggs
“So you still want to find your cousin?”
“I would not be here if that were not the case,” said Greystoke with a smile. “And I have not at all rushed you to impart the information you have. Although I do believe this earth tremor has highlighted that time is not quite on our side.”
Clark cast a sidelong look at Archie and silently hoped his friend wouldn’t say anything to jeopardize the deal he had spent so long crafting.
“So you find Tarzan, figure out he’s your cousin, and then you’re just gonna hand over the Greystoke estate to him?” said Clark, carefully keeping his tone neutral. “That’s mighty generous.”
William smiled and slowly shook his head as if he had heard that comment a hundred times already. “I know how eccentric that may sound, but even without the estate’s fortune, my side of the family is wealthy enough. I won’t miss it.”
Clark caught the slight quizzical lift of Archie’s eyebrow and smiled. Archie knew a gift horse when he saw one.
William Greystoke continued. “Of course, I wish to find the aircraft and lay my aunt and uncle’s bodies to rest back in England. With John—I’m sorry, as you call him, Tarzan—”
“That’s what he calls himself,” Archie cut in.
“Such an amusing moniker, don’t you think? His real name is John Clayton. Named after his father. Or he was to be… . I confess that I still have my doubts such a person exists. It’s almost too preposterous to imagine.”
“Oh, he’s real, all right,” said Clark, leaning back in his chair. “More so than you or me, I sometimes think. He’s your boy, no matter how unlikely that sounds. And we have a deal, do we not?”
William raised his hands in a conciliatory manner. “Forgive me, I do not wish to cast doubt on what you believe, but we have had a fair number of charlatans making similar claims in the past. Once I talk to … Tarzan, a simple DNA test will confirm his authenticity. It’s a little more reliable than a fingerprint.” He chuckled at some private joke.
“We’ve had our fair share of nut jobs too,” said Archie tersely. Only a few weeks earlier a Russian hunter had connived his way into the camp, only to steal a gorilla and send Tarzan, Robbie, and Jane on a hair-raising journey, the details of which he didn’t want to find out. There were some things that parents should never know if they wanted to sleep at night.
“Ah, Nikolas Rokoff,” said William in a low voice. “A nasty piece of work. A very deluded man.” He didn’t need to continue. Since he had arrived at the camp he had taken great pains to distance himself from the hunter.
“And once Tarzan’s identity has been confirmed … ?” probed Clark. “Y’know we didn’t talk specifics, but I recall a lot of zeroes on those emails.”
William Greystoke studied Clark. In the past, Clark had faced down criminals, bloodthirsty rebel soldiers, and charging elephants. But under Greystoke’s gaze, Clark got a fleeting feeling that he was nothing more than prey. He shook that thought away. Greystoke had been nothing but patient and generous since he had arrived.
“I admire a man who cuts to the heart of business. I am a businessman myself,” Greystoke said. “Yes, there is a substantial reward for the proven return of Lord Greystoke. One million pounds.” His gaze flicked across to Archie who was coughing up a lungful of beer. The thought of the money spread a wide smile across Clark’s face, revealing his yellowed teeth. Greystoke dropped his voice close to a whisper. “With that kind of money, you could leave all this behind. Start a new life wherever you wished.” His voice rose back to normal as he smiled. “Of course, if you want me to wait another week here, then so be it.”
Archie cut in before Clark could say anything. “No need to wait. I think we should be able to get things rolling tomorrow.” He looked at his old friend. Clark gave a small nod. Neither man wanted Greystoke in their camp any longer than necessary.
William shook Archie’s hand, then took Clark’s crushing grip. Archie’s smile didn’t falter as he glanced across at his daughter in the corner. But Clark could read his friend’s mind. Between them and a million pounds lay some harsh jungle, and a pair of brooding teenagers.
• • •
“Absolutely not!” snapped Jane.
Archie sighed. “Jane, you’re being unreasonable… .”
“I’m being unreasonable? Every time you bring somebody back, I’m proved right! That guy is not to be trusted!”
Archie, Clark, Jane, and Robbie had slipped across to the office, the largest cabin in the camp, where pay was dealt out and logging operations planned. Two bare bulbs were the only lights; the close-by generator’s noisy hum was ever-present. The walls were covered in maps that were plotted with the locations of rare and valuable trees. Jane sat on the edge of Archie’s desk, her arms folded. Robbie sat just behind her on the chair, his head cradled in his hands. He was tired and had heard these arguments before. Archie paced the room, trying to keep his temper in check, while Clark sat in the corner, one hand absently massaging his scarred leg as he glared at Jane from under his bushy eyebrows.
“His family has a seat in the British House of Lords—he’s almost royalty, and you think he can’t be trusted?”
“She’s right,” said Robbie. “The Greystokes paid Rokoff to hunt down Tarzan. They accused D’Arnot of being a fraud when he first tried to spread the world about a surviving heir.” Robbie had learned a lot about D’Arnot, the French UN peacekeeper who had been saved by Tarzan and, in turn, had educated him and taught him to speak. The two had been good friends, until the day D’Arnot had decided to head back to civilization. But the modern world was more ruthless than the jungle had been, and nobody believed the Frenchman’s tales. On his return to the jungle, he was murdered by Nikolas Rokoff, never to see his ape-man friend again. “What makes you think things have changed now?”
“The man just saved my life!” snapped Archie. “And you’re talking about William’s father, not him. He’s only recently taken the title. He’s already told us about Rokoff. The Russian was nothing more than a con artist, using the Greystokes as much as he used us.”
Jane threw her hands in the air melodramatically. “And you believe him? Sometimes I wonder how we can be related!”
A hurt expression crossed Archie’s face, but it was Clark who spoke up, unable to keep the spite from his voice.
“Y’know somethin’, sweetheart? I wonder that sometimes too. I can only figure out that you took your mum’s brains—and she was dumb enough to run away.”
Being reminded of how Jane’s mother had abandoned them stung. She had left without a word, leaving them with debt so severe that Archie had been forced to abandon his life as a doctor and turn to more lucrative, if illegal, activities so they could start all over again.
“It’s no surprise you want in on this. Wasn’t it your idea, anyway?” Jane snapped. “How much is he offering to pay you?”
“A million quid,” said Clark levelly. “Just to hand back Tarzan’s title. And if he don’t wanna live in England, then he’s free to stay ’ere. The only difference will be that we’re not ’ere; we’re someplace else and rich.” Clark leaned forward in his chair. “And let’s make one thing clear, missy.” He poked a finger at her. “I’ve had about enough of you constantly sabotagin’ not just your dad’s happiness, but mine too. We’ve been good enough to ask your opinion, but we don’t need it. Y’see, I know where the plane went down.” He gestured to the jungle in general and grinned when Jane glanced at Robbie who leaned guiltily back in his chair.
“Even before Robbie got to see it for ’imself, I had the GPS coordinates of where Rokoff tagged Tarzan. That’s how the Russian knew where to find Karnath. That’s how I know where we’re gonna lead his lordship.”
Nobody except Clark could face Jane’s accusing stare. With a sharp intake of breath she darted from the cabin.
“Jane, wait!” shouted Archie.
�
��Leave her be,” said Clark. “She’s not stupid enough to waltz into the jungle at night. Besides, where will she go, eh?” Clark stood, wincing as his injured leg took his weight. “We should all have an early night. Tomorrow’s the day we all turn very rich.”
• • •
The next morning, Robbie searched the camp for Jane, but was not surprised to see her gone. In the past he would have worried, but he knew exactly where she was headed. Jane must have made a break for it in the pre-dawn light, a time when the soft hues bathed the misty jungle, giving it a magical edge. He hooked a machete to his belt and followed Jane’s faint spoor through the foliage. She had learned to move through the jungle without leaving too many signs of passing, and Robbie was beginning to worry he had made a mistake until, after an hour, the trail opened up into the Dum-Dum.
It was a wide clearing that was nothing more than a dust bowl, bordered on one side by a smooth curving cliff some thirty feet high. Several hollow logs lay in the dust, their trunks long devoured by insects, forming natural drums, which Tarzan had shown Jane how to beat to call him in times of danger. The pounding rhythm was amplified by the concave cliff and carried across the jungle for many miles.
Jane sat glumly on one log, staring at the surrounding trees. She didn’t turn around when Robbie entered the clearing. He realized she’d heard his almost-silent approach and swore she had picked up on some of the incredible heightened skills Tarzan possessed.
“He’s not coming,” she said in almost a whisper.
“Call again.”
She shook her head and turned to him. She was worried. Her long blonde hair had hastily been tied into a ponytail, and her face was still smudged with dirt from the previous day.
“They will find the plane, but they won’t find him there,” she said.
Robbie felt his cheek flush with guilt. It was his fault they knew where to look. “Jane, I’m sorry… .”
“No need. I know you thought differently then… . Thought you were doing the right thing.”
Robbie nodded. When he had first met Tarzan, he hadn’t warmed to the ape-man. It wasn’t until he had joined Jane and Tarzan in their search for the kidnapped ape, Karnath, that he got to know the wild man. The many perils they faced had formed a bond as strong as a familial one. Robbie didn’t want to see any harm befall his friend any more than Jane did. He still felt slivers of guilt every time he thought back to how he had planned to betray Tarzan.
“How do you know he’s not there?” asked Robbie.
“He took me to a place he intended to take his family for food.”
Robbie recalled Jane had mentioned something about a volcano; Clark had heard her say that too, but now didn’t feel like the time to bring it up.
“So what do we do?”
Jane looked thoughtful, then smiled. “Perhaps we should let them find the airplane. Maybe that will be enough… .”
“You think we should go with them?” said Robbie in surprise.
A smile broke Jane’s worried frown and she suddenly looked full of life again. “Better than that. We’re going to really help them.”
3
The rush of the wind was the only thing the ape-man could hear as he ran along a slender bough no wider than his foot. The hundred-foot drop below meant nothing to him. He didn’t stop his breakneck pace even as the branch drooped under his weight. He had run through the trees all his life and could read the steady pulse of the wood through the soles of his feet. As the branch bent even lower, Tarzan tensed his powerful thigh muscles and leaped.
The branch acted like a springboard, catapulting him high into the air and out across the canopy of trees. His eyes were locked on to his landing area ahead—he knew with solid certainty where he would fall.
His feet crashed through the leafy canopy, startling a small knot of manu. The monkeys screeched at him as they fled from his path. Tarzan only had to use one hand to reach for a branch to stabilize himself as he hopped from branch to branch and carouseled around the huge trunk of a tree. Almost as fast as a man sprinting on the ground below, he jumped into the branches of an interlocking tree where he brachiated almost as fast as he could run—before dropping several feet onto a limb.
Ahead, through the dense leaves, he caught sight of a shock of coarse gray hair as the Targarni he was pursuing knuckled on all fours through the undergrowth, oblivious to his presence. Once again the Targarni had struck the Mangani, and their constant frays were beginning to test Tarzan’s patience, like a tick that couldn’t be scratched. He knew the Targarni numbered enough to evict the Mangani from the territory if they wished, so Tarzan was puzzled as to why they insisted on only small skirmishes.
After almost an hour, he sensed he was close to the heart of the Targarni’s home. He could smell their stale stench, even through the odor of the foul Thunder Mountain. Tarzan paused at the top of a crooked tree that bent out from the slope of the mountain below, offering an unrivaled view of the land.
The volcano’s peak rose behind him, and he judged himself to be close to the edge of the trees, near the barren scree slopes that took the brunt of the red rocks occasionally ejected from the cone. Thin plumes of gray smoke rolled from the cone, but Tarzan was accustomed to the sight. Here the soil was rich, and the jungle more lush than the valley below.
Tarzan remained stock-still, absorbing the world around him. The sounds of the jungle were comforting. Nothing was amiss, yet the smell of the Targarni assured him danger was at hand. A pair of neeta dropped onto the branch close to him and ruffled their bright yellow feathers as they preened. They didn’t consider Tarzan a threat, just part of the scenery, so didn’t notice him slink to the ground.
Using a trailing liana, Tarzan gently lowered himself without a sound. Doubled over, he stealthily ran up the slope, toward the strengthening scent of Targarni. Every one of his senses was now pulsing—something was very wrong. He crouched behind a boulder and peered over the top.
The ground beyond was shrouded in a fine mist. The trees thinned out, clinging to a network of large rocks that sprouted among the jungle. It took a moment for the stone’s regularity to register with Tarzan, and he suddenly realized what he was looking at was the work of man, not nature. Even the boulder he was hunkering behind was several huge square stone blocks carefully fitted together. There was no obvious pattern to the ruins. They were nothing like the geometric shapes he had seen in the city or even in Jane’s camp. There were images carved into the rock, most so weatherworn it was impossible to discern what they were supposed to be.
Tarzan had no interest in pictures. Emerging from behind the boulder, he took several cautious steps forward. Through the mist, he could see that there was something ahead, but could not quite make out what it was. The volcanic fumes and mist were rendering Tarzan’s honed senses almost useless. Then he froze.
A pair of massive claws protruded from the undergrowth, perhaps a lion’s, but it was difficult to tell. Nevertheless, they represented a beast the size of the trees. His heart pounded, but he held his ground long enough to see that the claws were made from stone. Between them lay a black void, an entrance of some kind. It was from there that the unpleasant smell emanated. Tarzan recognized it as the stench of death.
Tarzan quickly retreated. His thoughts on the Targarni were blacker than ever and uncertainty gnawed at him. Had he made a mistake bringing his family there?
• • •
Lord William Greystoke had taken Jane’s offer to accompany them with a charming smile and assurances that he only meant to help his cousin and not hinder him. Clark took her sudden change in attitude with a huge amount of scepticism. His brow furrowed further when Jane apologized to him for losing her temper.
It took several hours for the expedition to pack their gear. William Greystoke played his part helping others, not once complaining. It was a move that gained the respect of Archie and the loggers, who exp
ected the lord to consider himself above such things.
By 10 a.m., Greystoke, Archie, Robbie, and Jane were ready, delayed only by Clark, who had difficulty shouldering his heavy supplies due to his injured leg. Even though they expected to be away for no more than two days, the supplies would last them for a week should anything unexpected happen. Archie tried to convince Clark to stay behind.
“An’ miss out on the fortune an’ glory?” hissed Clark as pain shot through his leg. “Not a chance, mate. Not a chance.” He swallowed painkillers and wordlessly hefted his backpack over his shoulders, now made lighter by losing two days’ worth of backup supplies. “We could all do with losin’ a few pounds anyway,” he commented, patting his stomach when Robbie questioned the rash action.
Mr. David had wanted to come, but Archie needed him to run the camp while they were away. Jane would have felt safer if he had come. She didn’t trust Greystoke at all. She had read up on the family and was all too aware of their merciless streak. There was nothing she liked about the English lord and could all too easily imagine his cruel intentions.
The sun shone through the canopy, casting a network of shadows across their trail and providing welcome shade from the harsh sunlight. Despite misgivings, Jane and Robbie felt good to be traveling again and led from several yards ahead. They followed a trail that bypassed the Dum-Dum and snaked up a gentle hillside. After three hours, their clothes were damp with sweat and, with Clark lagging behind, Archie called for a break. On a plateau, they could see the jungle spread out beneath them, broken by a patchwork of brown rivers that vanished into the distance, joining the mighty Congo River somewhere over the horizon.
Robbie couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he confided in Jane. “If you would’ve asked me a couple of months ago if I enjoyed hacking through all this …” he shook his head. “Now I just don’t want to go back. Know what I mean?”
