Luana

by Alan Dean Foster

  Tall, thoroughly distinguished, full beard and Russian Cossack moustache. He had a deep, warm voice, eminently suitable for lecturing profoundly, and thick hairy brows that could draw together to convey a feeling of concern over matters of deepest cogitation.

  Only one thing was missing. Albright had never had an original thought in his life. Oh, he was a competent enough technician, a professional in the lab. But the chances that he would ever contribute anything appreciable to the store of scientific knowledge were as improbable as African unification.

  Kobenene waited a decent interval before deciding an interruption was in order. Certainly the circumstances warranted one.

  “The girl has engaged a guide,” he said politely.

  That halted any attempt at abstruse mathematical calculation. Albright put down the pencil and slipstick and turned.

  “You’re joking, man. No one is idiot enough to try and enter that country.”

  Kobenene shifted his bulk, and the chair creaked valiantly. “The man she had engaged has a reputation for being something of an idiot. In fact, it seems he’s been poking around the edges of Wanderi territory for years. There are many bets down as to exactly when he won’t come back. The fellow has more action riding on him than a day’s races at the track. Some of the bettors nearly collected a couple of weeks ago.”

  “What? Oh.” Albright looked thoughtful. “You don’t mean that Barrow—no, Barrett—fellow they say survived the witch-man poison?”

  Kobenene nodded. The servant girl arrived with a tray of refreshments. He gave her a friendly whack as she departed.

  “What do you think?” Kobenene asked. Ordinarily he would not have bothered the chemist with such problems, but Barrett was fairly well known. He had many friends who would ask awkward questions if he were suddenly to drop out of sight in Nairobi. Worse still, those with shillings riding on him would get curious, indeed. They’d be harder to keep off than his friends. So the problem clearly called for more than a simple blow to the head.

  Albright didn’t look especially worried. The detachment of the scientific mind, the big man thought. Albright had that, if not the mind of a scientist. Clearly his partner was attuned now to lines of higher thought, was considering the difficulty carefully and with precision.

  “Could we buy him off?”

  Kobenene considered. “I would say yes, absolutely. Except for two things. One, he’s already accepted the job. If we’d gotten to him first—” He shrugged indifferently. “A fruitless line of thought. As said, he has already agreed to the expedition.”

  “You don’t mean such scum have a sense of honor?” laughed Albright.

  “Honor has been rumored to rear its head now and then,” Kobenene replied, not wishing to be drawn into an argument with his partner. Mungu, how he hated the man! And despite their surface friendliness, he was quite sure Albright harbored no deep affection for him, either. Their relationship was founded on something more lasting, more binding than the frail hold of friendship—greed. They needed each other.

  “The other reason?” Albright prompted.

  “The other is the fact that this Barrett seems determined to break into Wanderi country. Nobody’s exactly sure why. He’s very closed mouth about it. The only one he’s ever confided in is another guide, Murin the Breeded, and no,” he said, forestalling Albright’s next question, “he wouldn’t talk either. Some say it’s for material for a book. He wrote one, you know. The best line is that he’s after some kind of buried treasure, which is even more ridiculous.

  “The point to all this being that Miss Hardi is, in effect, paying him to search the very area that he’s been spending his own money to explore. From Barrett’s point of view, it’s rather an ideal situation.”

  “That leaves us no choice, then,” Albright concluded. “Somehow we must manage to join this little expedition, so that when the time comes we will be in a position to abort it. I’d give a great deal for a look at Dr. Hardi’s papers, myself. But I’ve no desire to die in Wanderi country.”

  “Nor I,” Kobenene agreed. The big man shuddered. “It is said by some that the Wanderi are not human.”

  Albright shook his head wonderingly. “Superstitions and myths seem to hang on in primitive cultures despite superficial evidences of advancing civilization. I don’t believe in your Wanderi devils, but I have a healthy respect for their dart poisons. Rest assured that things will be resolved long before we enter their domain. Now then, who is doing the hiring of personnel for this journey?”

  “This chap Murin, Barrett’s friend, seems to be going along with him on this one. I expect he’ll be the one.” Kobenene grinned. “Barrett will spend most of his preparation time spending Miss Hardi’s money in every bar in the city.”

  “Um. I know this Murin by reputation, I think. Yes,” said Albright, “I’ll have no difficulty joining on. But you, my obese friend, will be a problem. Any inquiries at all into your background, and this Murin wouldn’t hire you for free. Ah, I have it! You can come along as my valet.” He grinned wolfishly.

  Kobenene sipped his drink. The idea of him waiting on Albright hand and foot was so amusingly far-fetched it didn’t even upset him.

  “How droll,” he muttered. “You are so sure of your own ability to be accepted?”

  “Oh, I’ve no doubt of it,” said Albright, “no doubt of it. I have an ‘in,’ you know.”

  Kobenene left him soon after. Neither was particularly fond of the other’s company. When business was finished, small talk vanished. Besides, there were affairs of commerce to be settled before they left.

  The office near the airport was small but neatly furnished. Kobenene gave his name to the harried receptionist and was promptly admitted to the inner sanctum. The middle-aged woman behind the desk wore her hair in corn-rows, the latest fashion from America. Otherwise she was quite plain, looking exactly like what she was—a busy, small-time executive with too many problems and not enough time to cope with them.

  All of this was true except the small-time. Also, people would see her in rather a different light if they knew her early history, which included at least half a dozen murders and police warrants in as many countries. Her personal wealth was considerable, though she chose not to flaunt it. That was one reason why she hadn’t been caught yet. Inordinate displays of unsubstantiated funds are like waving a red flag in front of any gendarme.

  “Hello, Mama Wembe.”

  “Kobe!” She looked up from her work. “How are you, lad?”

  “Well, thanks,” he said, taking a chair. “How’s business?”

  “Better than ever, better than ever! But our people in Naples and Antwerp are impatient. They can’t get enough of the stuff. Here they’re waving millions of francs and lire and other fine paper under my eyes and I can sell them only promises.”

  “Albright does his best, Mama. We could branch out, but the risks—”

  “I know, lad. Quite right. Our exclusive control is worth more than any momentary profits. In time, everything will come.”

  “It will have to, Mama. Albright’s leaving on an expedition into Wanderi country this next week. I’ve got to go with him.”

  Mama Wembe nodded. “I know about the situation with the Hardi woman. Why not just—” She made a slashing motion across her throat.

  “Too messy. She’s not just another tourist. It would provoke embarrassing questions. Albright and I are agreed. The jungle is the place for that sort of thing.”

  The woman sighed and rubbed at her skinny legs under the table. “You’re both right, of course. Things were much simpler when I was a girl. I suppose that means no more supplies until you return?”

  Kobenene nodded. “You’ll have a new batch delivered tonight, though.”

  “I suppose it’ll have to do. I don’t know what I’m going to tell Cantos, though.”

  “Tell him to work on the aide at the American consulate in San Marino. I think we can make a breakthrough there.”

  “I’ll do that
.” She stood and reached forward, patting him gently on the cheek. “You take care of yourself now, lad, and stay away from those witch-men. Scare the hell out of you, they do!”

  Kobenene dutifully kissed the harridan’s hand and departed, feeling more insecure about the trip than before. Anything that could frighten Wembe like that couldn’t be human, Albright’s slurs aside.

  As for Albright, the chemist had damn well better be right about his chances of joining the explorers, or else caution would give way to action. Mama Wembe’s messy tactics would have to be employed.

  Isabel was saddle-soaping her field boots, making the leather strong and supple. If Barrett’s descriptions of the country to be crossed were to be half believed, they’d crumble from her feet anyway. But no one was going to say she wasn’t prepared!

  There was a chiming.

  “Who is it?”

  “Norman Albright. Isabel, do let me in.”

  Albright? Norm—then the name made connections.

  “Mr. Albright—” Isabel swung the door wide. The chemist gave a little Prussian bow and entered. “I’m surprised, I admit it! I didn’t know you were in Nairobi.”

  Albright glanced appreciatively around the luxurious suite. Clearly little Isabel hadn’t been left destitute by her father’s passing.

  “Yes, I’ve lived here since,” he looked determinedly downcast, “the accident. I’ve managed to make a modest living.” He looked up at her and smiled. “You’ve certainly grown, Isabel. I used to bounce you on my knee.”

  A situation, he reflected as he studied her while she bent to extract a package of cigarettes from her purse, which could be attractively altered today.

  “I understand,” he continued, “that you are forming an expedition to search for your father’s plane?”

  “How did you know?”

  He smiled again. “Word gets around. To be direct, I should like to go along.”

  “Why Norman,” she exclaimed, surprised. “You’re more than welcome, naturally—but why?”

  He took a deep breath. “Possibly you don’t know, Isabel, but after your father died I tried to carry on his work as best I could.” He shook his head. “It was impossible. I’m not half the chemist your father was and we both knew it. I tried desperately to persuade him before he took off on that last trip to leave his notes and workbooks with me.

  “You know how old men can be sometimes, adamant in the face of all logic. He absolutely refused to let them out of his sight. He was paranoid about his work, Isabel—no disrespect intended. In many ways it was admirable. But if those workbooks could be recovered—”

  “Yes, certainly,” she agreed excitedly. “Those were my thoughts exactly. You may even look at them yourself, Norman before I turn them over to the National Institute in Washington.”

  That’s just what I was afraid you’d say, my dear, he mused darkly. Now there was no hope for it.

  “Excellent, my dear Isabel, excellent! I understand you have already engaged an expedition guide, a gentleman by the name of—”

  “Barrett,” she informed him. “George Barrett. He wrote a book that mentions the Wanderi and also father. He impressed me as being competent in the extreme, if rather crude sometimes personally.” She looked away.

  “And he’s a bit mercenary, but I suppose that’s only understandable.”

  “Of course, now that I am here, you could dispense with this uncouth person,” Albright began. “I have my own outfitter and—”

  “No. No, I’ve given my word and a down payment to Mr. Barrett. And after all he did try to talk me out of it, I’m not going to make an ass of myself by backing out on him now.”

  Well, it had been worth a try, he reflected.

  “Very well. I will supply my own basics, of course. Oh, and my valet, too. His name is Kobenene. Fine fellow, very handy.”

  “Kobenene,” she echoed.

  “Yes.” Albright smiled. “It means fat tortoise. When do we depart?”

  “I’m not sure,” she replied. “Mr. Barrett gave me the impression that he could be ready quite soon. Next week some time, I believe he said.”

  “All right.” Albright rose. “If you should need me for anything, dear Isabel, my name is in the directory. Rest assured I’ll stay in touch.”

  Though not, he thought as he eyed her with interest, as in touch as I’d like to be. They walked towards the door. Well, if things developed properly that little detail might also be handled, so to speak. He’d already come to the conclusion that sweet little Isabel need not disappear right away. Once Mr. Barrett was disposed of, there would be ample time for forced dalliance. The jungle was very discreet.

  Chapter IV

  They would travel by land rover to Mwanzi, on the shore of Lake Victoria. From there the railroad could carry them all the way to Mpanda. Barrett’s easy camaraderie and solid reputation made him one of the privileged few who could travel with ease between Kenya and Tanzania. From Mpanda they would have to proceed on foot, and on their own.

  Barrett’s first comment on seeing Albright and Kobenene at the outfitter’s station was predictable.

  “Beggin’ your pardon, Izzy, but who the hell are those two bums?”

  Albright was on his way towards them and saved Isabel the need of a reply.

  “Permit me to introduce myself,” began Albright, in his finest professorial manner.

  “Why not?” countered Barrett. “You’re going to do it anyway.”

  “Uh, yes.” Albright was only briefly caught off stride. “And my associate. My valet, Kobenene.”

  “He looks it,” admitted Barrett drily. Kobenene forced himself to smile.

  “And I am Doctor Norman Albright.” He extended a hand. Barrett took it warily.

  “Doctor of what?”

  “Chemistry, dear boy, chemistry. I was for many years the great John Hardi’s closest friend and co-worker.”

  “More’s the pity for him,” muttered Barrett, so low that no one could hear. He looked at Isabel, jerked his head at the two. “What do they want?”

  “Norman tried to carry on my father’s work, Mr. Barrett. But he’s been stymied by the loss of all father’s old papers and records. He hopes to have a look at them when we find the plane.”

  “You’re nothing if not positive, Izzy.” Barrett studied Albright, who looked blank. “You must want a look-see at those papers awful bad, Albright. You got any idea where we’re going?”

  “Naturally, dear boy. It’s all in the interests of science,” he said unctuously, “which is best served by men with inquiring, far-ranging minds.”

  “Yeah,” said Barrett. “How come your inquiring mind never led you to mount your own search for these desperately valuable notes? Oh, screw it! You can come, if Miss Hardi insists. But on two conditions.”

  “Which are?”

  “One,” said Barrett tightly, straining to help hoist a heavy case atop the roof of a land rover, “I’m the only captain on the ship. What I say goes. If I decide halfway to Zaire it’s time for you to go home, you turn around and go home. If I say bury your head in the mud, you get dirty. Understand?”

  “Perfectly, dear boy, perfectly! Whatever you say,” Albright added brightly. “And the second condition?”

  Barrett paused, one hand wrapped ’round the handle of another case.

  “That you stop calling me ‘dear boy.’ Otherwise I’m gonna lose my lunch.”

  “Surely, surely, de . . . Mr. Barrett. All easily done. We are in accord, then. Come, Kobenene, let us see to our own equipment.” They moved down along the motorized caravan.

  “Hold it, Izzy,” said Barrett, putting out an arm to stop her as she turned to go. “How well do you know this guy?”

  “Really, Mr. Barrett, your insinuations and suspicions strike me as being awfully misdirected. Norman Albright is a brilliant chemist and really did work with my father for many years.” She hesitated. “Frankly, we’ve been out of touch for some time. But he knew me as a little girl. I’m deli
ghted to find him here in Nairobi and even more delighted that he’s coming with us.” She turned and stalked away.

  And that ought to be that, Barrett told himself. Only it wasn’t. The supposed scientist kept nagging at him. He leaned out to yell at the third land rover in the line.

  “Hey, Breeded!”

  The swarthy East Indian appeared a moment later, scratching at his swirling beard. Sometimes he would serve as second in command on Barrett’s expeditions. On other occasions, depending on the discriminatory preferences of the client, Barrett would act as his. They had a healthy respect for each other’s abilities. This time it was Barrett’s show. Even so, Murin wouldn’t have considered going were it not for the same argument that had convinced Barrett—money.

  Murin’s skin was burned dark brown, the product of a fiery Hindu mother and thirty-three years of living out under the naked East African sun. A short curly beard ran from ear to ear, blended there into close cropped steel wool hair. There was a gold ring in his right ear. He was on the short side, and slim. He was not picked on, however, since it was a rumored fact that his body contained neither bone nor muscle, but was composed instead of odd lengths of steel cable.

  “George, my friend, we are just about ready, yes?”

  “Yes,” Barrett concurred. He nodded towards the back of the caravan, where Albright and Kobenene were working at their luggage. “What do you know about those two?”

  Murin looked in the indicated direction. “The Englishman, Albright, lives in a fine big house. He has good taste in women, bad taste in wine, and seems to know a good many people in the right places plus an equally large number in the wrong ones. Despite the money he is rumored to have, he lives modestly.”

  “He really a chemist?”

  “It appears so,” nodded Murin, “though what he chemists at, nobody knows. Whatever it is, it’s profitable.”

  “And the big one—he’s no damn valet, for sure.”

  “Ah, the fat tortoise! He carries himself like a chief and speaks like a man of education—when he wants to. No one knows what he does, either, except that he and the Englishman are often seen together. In public, he is a gentleman to the hilt. Some say he is a disbarred chief, but there is no proof of this.”