by Andy Briggs
“Then why mark it on a map?” said Greystoke. “My uncle was not prone to flights of fancy. I have never met a more boring man!”
“What’s so special about Opar?” said Robbie as casually as he could, but inwardly his curiosity about uncovering lost riches was burning. “It’s just some old city. You always hear about lost treasure—it never turns out to be true.”
Werper spun around, giving Robbie the full power of his piercing blue eyes. He suddenly became animated, hands gesticulating as he spoke. Robbie was unsure if it was passion or madness.
“This is not just some lost city. This is a civilization that fell through the cracks of history. As big as the Mayans, as mighty as the Egyptian pharaohs … now only a legend passed down verbally in pygmy culture. A city of untold riches run by a cannibalistic ruling clan who spilled more blood than the Aztecs, who worshipped animals as their gods. What happened to them? Why their mysterious decline?” Werper spread his arms out as if offering himself to the Oparian gods. “If I was the one to uncover a new civilization … my name would echo amongst the greats… .” His hands suddenly dropped to his side with sadness, his gaze becoming unfocused again. “If only we could find it… .”
Clark tapped the map. “What about this?”
Greystoke glanced at the tightly packed contour lines. “Mountains. There are plenty to choose from out there.”
“I can see that,” said Clark testily. The thought of any riches slipping through his fingers was galling. “But this curve ’ere. Doesn’t it strike you as odd?” He traced a finger around a cylindrical edge. Greystoke leaned over, his brow knitted. “Looks almost volcanic to me.”
“A volcano …” mumbled Greystoke thoughtfully.
Robbie crossed to the map to get a better look. The mountain’s contour lines were indeed distinctly circular.
Werper snorted. “Do you know how many volcanoes are out there? This whole region is a tectonic nightmare. There are eight known volcanoes in the Democratic Republic of the Congo alone, Nyamuragira being one of the most active on the planet. There could be eighty more out there, hidden by the jungle.”
Clark shrugged and limped back to his seat. Greystoke continued studying the map, then noticed the smirk on Clark’s face.
“What aren’t you telling us?”
Clark enjoyed being the center of attention and picked at the food on his plate. He gave Archie a calculating look that clearly showed he had just worked out how to turn the situation to their advantage. Robbie began to feel his heart sink.
“Our deal was originally to unite you with your long-lost cousin.”
“And that still stands, should we come across him,” said Greystoke slowly.
“And I believe half the cut was mentioned for leading you to the aircraft, right?”
Greystoke stiffened slightly, turning his head to one side as his neck cracked. “I am a man of my word, Mr. Philander,” said Greystoke with a cocky grin. By using Clark’s real name, the one he hated, he’d subtly revealed he knew more about the loggers than he had let on. “Or do you prefer Samuel?” he teased. “So before you try to blackmail me, please remember your own position.”
Clark’s smug smile dropped and his eyes narrowed slightly. “If we help you find it, Archie and I deserve a cut at whatever’s in Opar. Agreed?”
“A cut,” said Greystoke carefully, exchanging a glance with Werper. “Agreed. But since we are laying down demands, here are mine. If you should try to renege on our deal, then I won’t hesitate to expose you and your logging operation to government authorities.” Clark and Archie exchanged worried glances. Lord Greystoke continued. “If we are in this, we are in it together. Agreed?”
The room fell quiet, save for the constant background thrum of excavating machinery outside. Werper had his back to the conversation and was poring over the map to see what he had missed. Robbie noticed Jane hadn’t moved, but her eyes were half open as she listened.
“Agreed,” said Clark as he climbed painfully to his feet to offer Lord Greystoke his hand. They solemnly shook. “Y’see, there is a volcano about a day or so away from where their plane crashed. She’s been there.” He nodded toward Jane. Robbie noticed her eyes were closed again. “An’ I ’appen to know which way she went, with your cousin, no less.”
Greystoke’s eyes flicked between the map and Clark. Then he nodded. “It’s worth a try. If you’re right… .”
Clark held up his hand reassuringly. “I reckon I am right. So, let’s talk numbers.” He grinned like a shark.
• • •
Red-hot coals rained down across the howling Targarni as Tarzan heaved on his vine rope, pulling the huge flaming bowl off the slender stone plinth. The coals, huge chunks of black volcanic rock, came first, smashing to the ground in a fountain of sparks that singed the fur of the slower Targarni.
The robed woman stared at Tarzan in surprise, the sword clanging from her grip. Her eyes went wide and she staggered backward. Goyad leaped between them, teeth bared—which looked all the more terrifying due to the fresh blood smeared across his snout. There were only five yards between the two, and Tarzan knew his speed would be restricted with the weight of the female over his shoulder.
Goyad was ready to spring as the huge flaming bowl hit the ground with a terrible crack of stone on rock. Tarzan tensed, unable to judge which way the heavy stone would fall. His heart pounded and the floor under his feet trembled when the rim of the bowl sliced between them. Tarzan let out a snort of victory as the concave bowl rolled away from him, spilling a mass of flames toward Goyad. Blazing rocks burned patches of the ape’s fur away to the pale skin beneath. He howled in pain and raced away from the flames spreading across the floor. With a powerful kick, the albino ape leaped for the sanctuary of a wall projecting from the nearest ruin.
The huge stone bowl continued rolling on its rim and Tarzan ran with it as it scythed through the lines of Targarni. They ignored Tarzan, more concerned about avoiding the fire or being crushed as the bowl steamrolled toward them. Tarzan saw several unfortunate Targarni fully ablaze, rolling on the floor screaming as they tried to quell the flames. He grinned—he couldn’t have planned a more destructive revenge. Tarzan made it across the plaza and vaulted up the steps two at a time with ease, even with the female thrown over his shoulders.
Halfway up the steps the bowl finally teetered over. It managed one mighty grinding spin before thundering to a halt. By this time Tarzan was already in the cavern above and sprinting across the narrow stone bridge.
• • •
The Targarni did not follow. Tarzan was panting heavily as he raced up the final steps between the lion’s claws. He could not afford to rest now. Goyad might not have immediately given chase, but Tarzan was sure the ape and his cohorts would soon be scouring the area. He didn’t see the point in testing his luck any further.
He checked the female he had saved. She had been unnaturally quiet during the escape and when he carefully laid her on the forest floor her head slumped to the side. Tarzan hoped she wasn’t dead; other than annoying Goyad, that would have made his entire adventure a waste of time. But he did not know the woman, so if she lived or died Tarzan would accept that nature had chosen her path. There were few beings he cared for outside his tribe and, as he examined the woman, he was reminded it had been some days since he had last seen Jane. Moving to new feeding grounds with his family had been a necessity, and he only hoped Jane hadn’t got into any trouble while he had been away. He tried to put that distraction from his mind as he focused his attention on the woman.
He felt a pulse in her neck; it was slow but strong. She must have passed out from sheer terror at the thought of what was about to happen to her. Her hair was black, her skin darker than Tarzan’s own, and she wore the familiar khaki uniform most jungle explorers chose. As far as he could judge, she was older than Jane, but not by much.
Tarzan listene
d for any signs of pursuit, but only the jungle’s twilight chorus could be heard. The sky was already growing dark, and the first stars appeared in the deep blue, shining their ancient light. But there was another glow to the air, a tinge of red reflecting from the few clouds. And now that he was listening for it, Tarzan could tell the continuous rumble from the mountain was a little louder. Perhaps it was angered by the chaos he had caused deep below?
Carrying the woman over his shoulder, he trudged on through the jungle, back toward the Mangani. The mountain’s business with Goyad and the apes was not his, and he didn’t care how much the earth grumbled. He was lord of the jungle. He had nothing to fear.
• • •
Robbie had been more than irritated when Clark suggested he and Jane leave so the adults could discuss business terms with Lord Greystoke. It was clear he thought they would try to sabotage negotiations, and the others were still unaware that Jane had been awake during the entire conversation.
The smarmy Edward had appeared and guided them across the mining site to another set of cabins. Floodlights lit the site, attracting swarms of insects, but allowing the workers to maximize their workday. Edward kept to a wooden walkway that spanned the mud. Streams of dirty water ran beneath them. Off to one side, a group of Mbuti pygmies stood up to their chests in the dirty water, hauling large dishes from the brown murk as if panning for gold.
“What are they doing?” Jane asked Edward. Robbie recognized her tone; it was enthusiastic interest with a hint of flirting—exactly what she employed when she wanted her own way.
Edward had obviously forgotten how curt she had been before and returned her smile. Sucker, Robbie thought.
“They’re washing the mud away so they can reach the heavier coltan beneath.”
“So they don’t actually mine it?”
“Not in the way you think. Coltan is found close to the surface. Here, all you have to do is sluice the mud away and you can retrieve it. The bulldozers help shift the surface mud off, but it’s still a very labour-intensive process.”
“I guess the pygmies make a lot from doing this?”
Edward shrugged. “We pay them one hundred and fifty dollars.”
“A hundred-fifty bucks a day?” asked Robbie incredulously. He suddenly thought he was in the wrong line of work.
Edward laughed dismissively. “Per month.” He caught Jane’s horrified expression and added, “Most Congolese earn about ten dollars a month.”
They reached the far end of the walkway and Edward took a detour that led to a large steel hopper brimming with unremarkable black stone, forming chips no bigger than gravel. Edward smiled and scooped the ore into his palm.
“Columbite-tantalite. Or coltan to you and me. It’s currently selling at two hundred and thirty dollars a kilo. Sometimes the market can push it up as high as six hundred.”
“You must be proud,” said Jane, although Edward failed to detect her caustic tone.
Edward slowly poured the coltan from his palm. “Of course. We’re out here helping technology push forward. Without this, civilization as we know it would be unable to function. We’d be back to Victorian engineering—no computers, no TV, nothing.” He carefully wiped his hand, making certain every last grain fell back into the hopper, then nodded toward a close-by cabin. “Lord Greystoke wanted you to make yourselves comfortable in here.”
The cabin was large and empty, lined with picnic-style benches to form a utilitarian canteen for the staff. The shutters to the kitchen were down and several dirty windows cast mottled light into the room, adding to the depressed atmosphere.
Edward hung at the door as Robbie and Jane entered. “I’ll be back soon. I’m sure Lord Greystoke will conclude his business swiftly.” He closed the door.
Jane let out a long sigh as she leaned against a table. “This is crazy! What are we going to do?”
“Why should we do anything? If Clark wants to lead them toward a volcano, good for him. I vote we head back to camp, contact Tarzan, and tell him to keep his head down.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” said Jane, exasperated. “The volcano is where Tarzan took his family. That’s where the new feeding grounds are, and now we’re gonna lead Sir Stuck-up right to them!”
Robbie peered through the window. He couldn’t see much due to the thick grime coating it, just Edward’s receding back as he crossed the walkway.
“Greystoke said he wasn’t really interested in Tarzan,” said Robbie thoughtfully. “I don’t trust that Edward guy,” he added as he lost sight of the man.
“He’s a slimeball, just like Greystoke. And I don’t believe a word Greystoke said either. His dad was desperate to find Tarzan. He paid Rokoff to hunt him down—so why wouldn’t he be as ruthless?”
“I don’t know,” muttered Robbie distractedly. He was still peering through the window. Something didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
Jane continued. “Look at what they’ve done to this place. Do you think if they find this city they’d be interested in its archeological value? Oh sure, that Werper probably is—but he’s in for a shock when it gets bulldozed down for coltan.”
“Greystoke was keen to get rid of us.”
“Of course. He knows we won’t agree to help him and that we’ll try to put Clark and Dad off.”
Something nagged at the back of Robbie’s mind, an idea to which he couldn’t quite latch on. A look Greystoke gave him, an offhand comment that sounded wrong. “He probably thinks we’d sabotage the expedition.”
“Exactly,” said Jane.
Then it hit Robbie, the idea that had been bothering him. “Exactly. Why would he want us around?” His mind was racing. He suddenly remembered Greystoke had used Clark’s legal name, a name he’d long since dropped. Greystoke had done his research. On all of them.
Jane looked puzzled. “You think he’s going to try and send us back to the camp?”
Robbie caught sight of movement through the window. Edward was returning with another man. He tried to wipe the glass for a clearer view, but the dirt was on the outside. “He knows that wouldn’t work. He knows we’d warn Tarzan.”
Jane shrugged. “So what can he do? Hold us hostage?” Even as she said the words the reality of the statement sank in.
“Worse,” muttered Robbie as the door to the canteen opened and Edward walked back inside with a man in his fifties. The man’s red sunburn indicated he hadn’t had time to acclimate to the tropics.
“Mr. Canler?” said the man with a grin that revealed a missing tooth. He spoke in a soft Midwestern accent. “You led me on a merry chase—up rivers, around Uganda… . But here we are.”
“Who are you?” asked Jane.
The man’s eyes never left Robbie, and the smile never left his face. “You can call me Baxter. Private detective, although I prefer the term ‘bounty hunter.’ Has a cooler ring to it, don’t you think? I have an arrest warrant for you, Mr. Canler. You’re wanted for murder in New York. And I’m here to bring you back home.”
9
By daybreak, Tarzan grew concerned for the female. She still had not awoken and her skin burned with a fever. He placed her in the shade offered by a small cave, and the Mangani sniffed at her, but otherwise gave her a wide berth. Except little Karnath, who warily approached. His trust in strangers had been stretched to breaking point after Nikolas Rokoff had abducted him, but still, the little ape mustered his courage and edged closer, gingerly poking the woman with a stick to elicit a response.
Tarzan kept one eye on the woman, the other on the dense jungle. He was anticipating a merciless Targarni reprisal, but none came. He pondered the strange woman who seemed to lead the Targarni. Who was she? Was she like him—raised in the wild? Or was she an outsider like Jane, who had come to love the jungle as much as he did? The thought of Goyad putting up with interference from a human confused Tarzan. Th
ere must be more to the underground city than he could fathom.
It was clear the female’s condition was growing worse, despite the herbs that Tarzan had gathered that should ease such a fever. He started to feel a sense of responsibility; after all, he had saved her from death, so to have her die while in his care didn’t seem right. Perhaps this was something Jane could help with. Tarzan might not know all the technology the loggers had, but he had seen enough to know there were some things beyond even his understanding. Besides, it had been too long since he had last seen Jane.
Tarzan was confident that a Targarni attack was not forthcoming. He left the unconscious female with the apes and sprinted for the trees. With one mighty leap he vaulted into the low-slung branches. The momentum spun him around higher and deeper into the jungle canopy.
• • •
It was dawn, and events moved at a rapid pace. Baxter roughly grabbed Robbie and shoved him against the wall.
“Get off me!” growled Robbie. But before he could strike out, he felt steel snap around his wrists as Baxter deftly handcuffed him.
Jane tried to pull Baxter off, but the man was stronger than he looked and held her back, though not before she had delivered a stinging slap across his cheek.
“The warrant’s for him only, but I dare say the judge would be interested in whoever was aiding him,” he snarled, rubbing his cheek.
Jane tensed, ready to strike again, but Robbie shook his head. “Don’t, Jane. This isn’t your fight.”
“Good boy,” said the private detective mockingly. “Just remember, being one step ahead don’t make you any smarter than me, boy.” He dangled the handcuff keys tantalizingly in front of Robbie, and then slipped them into his pocket. He turned to Jane. “Any last words?”
