by Roger Weston
Yeah, he might die today, but so what? Deep down he hated himself and he knew it. He just hadn't stopped to consider what was important in life until he'd run out of cash. How could he have screwed his family so badly and blown $12 million on top of it. There was no question about it. He deserved to die.
He knew that there was no way out of this canyon other than the cave he was heading toward. He couldn't go back without getting shot. He was about to make the biggest gamble of his life. If he was wrong, he would get stung to death. He stopped and snorted the cocaine. He passed through the trees and began climbing the rocks. His heart pounded so hard that the throbs ached. Adrenaline might have oozed out of his eyes by the way he felt. At any moment, he knew that the bees could descend upon him.
What a bizarre way to die, he thought, noticing how the overhang jutted out from the cliff nearly fifty feet as if some angry god had jammed a spike into the wall of limestone. A vast bees nest and he was climbing straight into it.
He climbed up a steep, smooth slope of limestone, then felt the shade of the overhang cover him. He looked up into the gaping maw of a round throat under a protruding tongue of limestone. At any moment, the bees would swarm him. What did he care anyway? His fortune was lost and he could never go back to practicing law again. He walked toward the shaded mouth of the cave. An aggressive bee flew around him, and he waved it away, not ready to submit to his fate till the whole swarm descended upon him. Adrenaline shot through his veins, and he concentrated to keep himself from lunging into a sprint. He entered the cool, dim cave. He wiped sweat from his forehead and gasped for deep gulps of air.
“No bees,” he said. He felt tears in his eyes and he laughed spontaneously. He remembered the ingenious ploys he'd pulled in court to free so many criminals. He felt the same kind of rush he'd often felt at these critical moments when spontaneity overcame him and he rose above his planned course of action. Improvisation touched him now with the same immortal finger, and he could smell the victory that had eluded him lately.
The native had spoken of a maze of trails and caves that went on endlessly. If Abu Bakr's men followed right after him, they'd probably catch him. But he could slow them down.
He screamed as loud as he could. He dropped to his knees and screamed again, the most hair-raising, blood-curling scream he had ever heard. “No,” he screamed. “Help me, oh, please god help me! . . . Ahhhh! Ahhhhh!” He continued screaming for at least fifteen seconds. He didn't want to overdo it, but he wanted to be sure that Abu Bakr and his men would stay away. Then he switched on his flashlight and started running up the gentle slope of the cave.
***
Abu Bakr breathed in relief over his wise judgment in sending Devin ahead to test for safety. Anger rose in him. He looked over at the native. The little man looked mystified. That especially made Abu Bakr mad. He wondered what kind of a game this fool was playing with him.
“You told me there were no bees.”
He shook his head in denial. “No, there are no bees in the cave.”
“Then how do you explain that screaming?”
The native shrugged. “I do not know. I have never seen this before.”
“You are a liar.”
“No . . . no.”
“You tried to trick us.”
He shook his head in denial. “No, I told you no bees.”
“Then what happened to that man?”
“I do not know, but it could not be bees. My people use that cave much. Is possible a snake or a crocodile found him in the cave.”
“You didn't say anything about snakes and crocs.”
“It is rare.”
“Are you sure there are no bees?” Abu Bakr said.
The native nodded vigorously and repeated his assurances.
“Then you will be the next man to enter the cave.”
The native said, “I will go.” He started walking.
Abu Bakr put out a hand and halted him. “Wait a minute.” He pointed to the sheikh. “You go with him.”
Holding his AK, the sheikh appeared stunned. Although he dared not to open his mouth in defiance of the order, Abu Bakr noticed a hint of rebellion in the man. “Did you hear me?”
Holding his neck rigidly erect, the sheikh stared at him a moment, then said, “I will go.”
“Good,” Abu Bakr said. “If you find a snake or a croc, kill it and let us know immediately.”
Abu Bakr waited ten minutes while the native led the sheikh up to the cave's mouth. They entered, disappearing from Abu Bakr's sight. Several minutes passed. Then the sheikh appeared again and waved.
“It's okay,” he shouted. “There is nothing.”
“What about Devin?” Abu Bakr shouted.
“He's gone.”
Abu Bakr felt the heat of blood rushing to his face. That lying trash made a fool out of him and escaped. But he couldn't have gone far. When Abu Bakr caught him, he would make a frightening example of him.
He turned to his men. “Get your gear and let's go.”
CHAPTER 47
Paul led the others through a series of narrow tunnels that were from two to four feet wide and ten to fifty-feet high. They followed the tall passageways for close to an hour. Finally the passage came to a dead end where a ladder made of slender tree trunks and branches ascended an almost vertical thirty foot incline. As he climbed the ladder, the cave walls brushed his shoulders. At the top, he discarded his backpack, then went back down for Gabriel, who clung to his back on the way up. The rest followed.
Occasionally, as they continued through the cave, Paul had to squeeze sideways or crawl through small openings, and getting Gabriel through these tight spots took a few extra minutes.
For half-an-hour, they hiked through candle-wax tunnels before a narrow cave led to a natural sunken garden under a blue sky. Paul covered his eyes for a minute while he adjusted to the bright light. Palm-like trees with thorned trunks and foliage with giant leaves grew in this small steep–walled courtyard. On all sides tsingy pinnacles rose two hundred feet forming sharp palisades. Leaving this oasis behind, they once again entered the dark cave system and hiked on through more black caverns. Stalagmites rose eerily from the floor and stalactites hung from the ceiling like daggers. Paul ducked under the stalactites and climbed over and around the stalagmites wondering if they would ever escape from this strange underworld.
As he hiked through this subterranean world, Paul reflected on what he might do next if he survived this journey. First he would make amends with Ryan. Then he hoped to do something good with his life…that is, if he lived.
They entered one area about the size of a basketball court with a ceiling only eight feet high. An abundance of waxy, yellow limestone columns filled the space and ran from floor to ceiling. Paul heard the sound of a small rock that had been kicked up ahead. He froze and felt Kelly nudge up next to him.
“Is that Ryan?” she whispered.
“There's somebody up there, that’s for sure.”
“Ry-’ Kelly started to yell.
Paul slapped his hand over her mouth. “What are you doing? We don’t know who it is.”
Paul started walking slowly forward. “Stay here. I’ll check it out.”
He held the flashlight in his left hand and an Uzi in his right. The flashlight beam cut through the darkness, illuminating the surreal caverns. As he approached the far side near the exit tunnel, a loud shriek pierced the quiescence of the underworld cavern. Several gunshots erupted. A moment of silence followed. The sounds of scampering feet, and some quick movements flashed behind and between partially-shielded stalactite columns.
A running man broke out into Paul’s sight before disappearing behind a group of the large columns. Paul edged closer, his gun at the ready.
“He's got a weapon,” Jawara shouted. “Shoot him.”
Paul walked slowly, but when he came near where he thought the man was hiding, he jumped around the extremity and zeroed his gun in on a white man, who made a sudden movement. Pa
ul adjusted his aim, but was waylaid from behind as somebody came out of nowhere.
Taken by surprise, he grunted with fear. He nearly pummeled his attacker before he realized that it was Kelly.
“Don't shoot him,” she screamed. “Don't shoot!”
Paul tore her free and aimed again at the man who stood trapped in a nook that was barred with columns on two sides. The man didn't attempt to flee.
“Lower that gun,” Kelly shouted. “I said don't kill him.”
Paul winced and glared at her, keeping track of the stranger with his peripheral vision. “What's the matter with you?”
“Leave him alone,” she said, aiming her M-16 at Paul. “Lower your gun.”
“Who is he?”
“My father.”
Paul could find no words to respond. How on earth could they have run into her father in an underworld cavern in Madagascar?
“Keep your hands up in the air and come over here,” Paul said. “What’s your name?”
“Devin Quinn.” He walked over, stopping about ten feet from Paul, shielding his eyes with his hand. “Do you have to shine that light in my face?”
Paul swung the light over at Kelly, then back at Devin, then back at Kelly. Devin had piercing gray eyes, but otherwise, Paul could see a clear resemblance. “This is a bad time for a family reunion. What are you doing here, mister?”
Devin said nothing but mouthed the words thank you to Kelly.
Paul lowered his gun and turned to Kelly. “You didn't say anything about your father working with Ryan.”
“That's because he isn't working with Ryan.”
Paul waited for some elaboration before speaking again. “Who's going to explain what's going on? Sir, I nearly shot you. If you aren't working with Ryan, what are you doing here?”
“I'm trying to help my daughter.”
Paul clenched his teeth, then sighed deeply. He lowered his gun a little, but couldn’t help feeling that something wasn't quite right. “How did you get here?”
“Yes,” Kelly said, “how did you?”
“I was trying to find you in Morocco. When I got close, some terrorist scum took me hostage. They brought me here. It's a miracle I escaped with my life.”
“Why were you—” Paul turned to Kelly. “Wait a minute. Didn't you tell me your father was dead?”
“He is,” Kelly said. “He died a long time ago.” She glared at Devin.
“What's going on?” Paul said. “This is your step-father or what?”
“This is what's left of my real father,” Kelly said. “He's a coward and a thief. Why don't you tell him what you did to your wife and your daughter?”
Paul raised his open palm. “Just hold on a minute. If you escaped from Abu Bakr, where is he now?”
Devin grinned and sniffled. He explained how he escaped. Then he added: “I don't think Abu Bakr’s far behind.” He glared at Otto. “What’s he doing here?”
Paul looked over at Otto, who stood there in his checkered head-cloth with bulging eyes and his long neck listing slightly to one side.
“You know him?”
“I never forget a thief,” Devin said.
“You stole something irreplaceable from your family,” Kelly said, her eyes locked on Devin.
Paul looked at Kelly. “Your reunion with the dead is going to have to wait.” He turned back to Devin. “Let's go. You lead the way.” He looked back at Kelly, angry that she had lied to him about her father. She avoided eye contact.
With Devin leading, Paul walked close behind him always ready to use his gun. He had no idea what was going on with Kelly and Devin, but he didn't like it. He had a sense of being used and lied to and he had to be ready for anything. He wiped sweat from his forehead.
They passed through several caverns where light spilled from openings in the cave roof high above. Where the light landed on the cave floor, verdant palms and other exotic plants miraculously grew in whatever sediment had accumulated over time. They finally left the caverns, and Paul felt the heat of the sun as the rays poured down on him from its high arc in the blue sky. They followed a trail that wound through the otherwise impassable tsingy and hiked through large and small chasms amid countless grey pinnacles.
Often the narrow footpath seemed to vanish, but then Gabriel would point the way. They traveled along the edges of narrow gorges, some of which abounded with foliage where birds sung happily on sun-drenched trees; in other gorges, saw-teeth ridges dared any man to try and pass through. Paul stayed on the footpaths, which skirted these impassable gashes in the rocky earth. Some of these spiked pits were as large as football stadiums.
Without the use of these secret trails, Paul guessed that an expert rock climber would be an old man before he crossed two hundred miles of this unbroken tsingy. Some of the chasms they skirted dropped only fifty feet below surrounding ridges; others dropped many hundreds of feet. The footpaths were marvels, wonders of the world. In places two-foot folds of limestone jutted out from the sides of sheer cliffs, providing nerve-racking stretches of trail to carry a wounded man on a stretcher. When Gabriel clung to Paul’s back, it wasn’t much easier. If Paul or any one in his party tripped on one of these cliff-side trails, death in the rock formations, twenty to two hundred feet below, was almost certain. If they landed on a tsingy ridge, they'd be sliced in half as if by an inverted meat cleaver.
At last, they started on a smooth and rounded ridge that went right through the center of a deep gorge. It was so smooth, Paul could have walked across it barefooted, but if he fell, he'd have dropped twenty feet into limestone formations that were just begging to snap brittle human bones.
When the trail crested, Paul and Kelly stood on a limestone knoll near the edge of a five hundred foot cliff. The canyon below looked like it was surrounded by candles whose wax had dripped in hardened trails down their sides. As they surveyed the awe-inspiring landscape, Devin walked up next to them and said to Kelly, “Why don't we put an end to all the hard feelings? What do you say?”
Kelly shook her head in disgust. “Why don’t you just leave me alone?”
Paul turned, but said nothing.
Devin stepped closer to Kelly. “Hey, come on now. You were too young to understand everything that was going on—”
She glared at him with venom in her eyes. “Too young to understand the pain and humiliation of being abandoned by my father? Too young?”
“I'm sorry if I hurt you, but you had no idea the trouble I was—”
“Nobody made you steal $12 million dollars.”
“You act like I robbed a bank. That was drug money, Kelly. You don't know how sick and tired I was of defending criminal scum who deserved the electric chair. Do you think I was proud to help drug-lords and murderers avoid justice? I was too damn good at my job! I grew to hate myself for every success. I was no better than they were because I was the one keeping them out of prison. But what could I do about it? That's the only thing I was good at. I had a family to support—”
“Don't tell me about supporting your family. Mom supported us after you abandoned us. Your clients threatened our lives. Mom was accosted at the grocery store more than once. Even friends avoided us because of you.”
“Blaming me isn't the answer.”
“Is that all you have to say to me? You're not even man enough to take responsibility for your actions.”
“Hey look, I'm a little shaken up right now. You have no idea what Abu Bakr put me through.” Devin sniffed. He stepped toward Kelly, opening his arms as if to embrace her. “I'm sorry. I've missed you so much.”
“Get away from me!” she said. “You're a stinking liar.” She motioned toward Paul. “Why don't you tell him why you really went to Morocco?”
“Now isn't the time for this, Kelly.”
“Tell him—or I will!”
Devin turned to Paul. “Look, mister, there's at least a dozen terrorists on our trail—”
Kelly stepped forward and slapped him. “Tell him how you planned
to steal sapphires from Ryan's mine. You planned to rob your own future son-in-law. And you wanted me to help you!”
Paul cringed. They needed to keep moving. He hoped their pursuers were far behind.
“That's enough,” Devin said. “Keep your mouth shut, Kelly.”
“Don't you tell me what to do.”
“Listen to me—” Devin sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
Kelly scoffed. “No, you listen. You're greedy and immoral.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Devin said. “I was doing you a favor. You think I'm scum, well let me tell you something—your right! You hate me; well guess what—so do I. It's a wonder I haven't committed suicide. Well, let me tell you something, I've thought about it. You don't know how many times.”
“I'm not going to listen to you,” Kelly said.
Devin wiped his nose with the back of his arm. As he lowered his arm, it was as if the muscles in his face slackened.
“I don't ever want to see you again. You stalked me, trying to find out the location of Ryan’s mine. I'm your daughter! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” Kelly began to tremble as she fought to hold back her emotion.
Devin shook his head. His shoulders sagged. His head hung low, but he lifted it as if for a final argument. “You don't understand, Kelly. You want to know the truth; I'll give it to you. You're right, I planned to take whatever I could get from Ryan's mine. But I was doing you a favor. Once you married Ryan, the cartel would have marked you. They'd have hunted you down and held you accountable for the money that I stole. And they wouldn't have stopped there either. They'd have ruined your life.” Devin spit. “My life is already ruined. I'm broke and on the run. And they'd have ruined yours, too.”
“You shouldn't have stolen the money.”
“I couldn't help myself. I got addicted to their drugs. The only way I could live with myself was booze and coke. I thought the money was a way out.”
A lone gunshot roared across the tsingy. The pilot spun and twisted to the ground as a crimson mist puffed behind him.
