It had nearly driven him mad, being apart from her, wondering if she’d actually forgive him and take him back. Then came word of Lilith’s escape and he knew that it didn’t matter whether she forgave him or not. He was not going to let her face that bitch alone. And wonder of wonders, she was actually happy to see him. It made him feel as if he were flying all over again, this time without needing a plane.
Which is a good thing, since you just destroyed yours.
It would be worth it, though, if they could pull off this ruse. He revved the cycle a bit faster and sailed over a small rise, reveling in the open country. Nairobi had grown so much that the streets were nearly flooded with cars and cycles. Jade was right. Wild Africa had better run for its very life around here.
And so had Lilith! As a war veteran, Sam had no qualms about killing her. She was as much the enemy as those German fighters he’d shot down. But he also knew that killing her outright could mean his own incarceration for murder. He hoped she’d strike first so he could justifiably claim self-defense. Somehow, he didn’t think that would be a problem. Satan had more of a conscience than she did. He’d been taught that anyone could be redeemed if they had a true change of heart. The trouble was, Lilith didn’t have one.
What concerned him more was Jade. He’d convinced her once before on Mount Marsabit that she wasn’t a killer. He hoped it was still true. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Lilith dead. He did, but by his hand and not by Jade’s. But he also knew that she was a sure shot, something he was counting on to protect his own life. Lilith was pure evil and had to be destroyed. His dad called homely animals “ugly as homemade sin,” but Sam knew that evil often put on a beautiful face to lure in more victims. And Lilith was beautiful.
Was!
He’d seen her after Morocco, when Jade’s knife had slashed up from the woman’s nose past her eye. The wound hadn’t been deep and, in a younger woman, it might have healed clean. But Lilith was no girl. Age and harsh prison conditions would have also marred her beauty. Like a cracked vase, Lilith was severely flawed. He shuddered to think of her plans for Jade.
If Dymant hadn’t died . . . Sam let the thought disappear as Jelani’s village came into view. Over the palisade, he could just make out the tops of the huts, like hulking beasts curled up asleep. He stopped the cycle and shut off the engine.
“You mustn’t be seen,” he whispered. “Hide by the goat pen until I get back.”
Jade slid off the rear of the cycle and ducked low, her movements and bowed form making her resemble some scurrying night creature. When she reached the palisade wall, she hugged it, keeping in its shadows. Sam took his flashlight from a pannier and, switching it on, wended his way up the path and approached the gate. As he got closer, a Kikuyu man stopped him, holding a spear point to Sam’s chest.
Sam held his hands out to his sides. “I see young mondo-mogo ,” he said in broken Swahili spoken with the fake Australian accent, bending the “o”s. “Jelani,” he added in case none of it made any sense to the guard. The guard hesitated, trying to see Sam’s face. “Rafiki,” Sam added, giving the Swahili for “friend.”
The guard nodded and led the way to a hut. He motioned with outstretched palm for Sam to wait outside while he ducked his head near the leather curtain and whispered inside.
An angry, snarling voice answered, and soon after an elder wrapped in a striped blanket stepped out. “Who are you and what do you want?” the man said in English.
“I’ve come to see the young healer, Jelani,” said Sam. “I think he may be in danger.”
The man snorted. “You are too late. He is not here. He has been taken.”
CHAPTER 25
Animism teaches that souls can enter crocodiles. There are tales
of crocs shifting from animal to human and even of marriages
between humans and transformed crocs.
—The Traveler
JADE MOVED FARTHER BACK FROM THE VILLAGE ENTRANCE, pressing flat against the wooden fence. On the other side she heard a deep maa and knew she was outside the animal pen. The strong smell of goat wafted through the spaces between the poles. Suddenly her mind swept back to June 1919, and a shudder born of memory rippled down her spine and legs.
She’d spent a harrowing night in this same pen then, waiting with Madeline and Jelani during a hunt for a man-eating hyena that had plagued this very village. The three of them had been put in with the goats where it was safe, while the men, including Hascombe, sat in an elevated blind for the brute to take their staked-out bait. The hyena came, but passed by the bait in preference for human flesh. It had forced its way into the boma, stalking Jelani and uttering that horrid, maniacal laughing call—a call that still reminded Jade of shell-shocked soldiers. She’d relived that night time and again in her dreams.
There were no hyenas around tonight. At least, none that she’d heard. A lone jackal barked in the distance, and somewhere farther off yet, a male lion voiced his deep-chested, groaning roars as he announced his territory and challenged all comers. The roars settled into the final coughing harrumphs and died into silence.
What’s keeping Sam so long? It’ll be dawn in five hours. Think about something else.
She stifled a yawn, only to have her stomach growl. She couldn’t decide what she needed more, a decent sleep or a hot cup of coffee and a half dozen biscuits loaded down with smoked bacon. She settled for a drink from her canteen.
A soft cough alerted her that Sam had returned. He knelt down beside her.
“Is Jelani all right?” she whispered.
“He’s not here. The village chief says that Finch arrested him.”
Jade’s “What!” was hushed by Sam’s hand over her mouth. When he pulled it away, she whispered, “That arrest was about the time when you showed up, Sam. They found the body of another Kikuyu, Mutahi. Finch had Jelani and Irungu brought in on suspicion of murder. But Finch promised he’d release Jelani as soon as there was an autopsy and . . .” She clenched her fists. “That damned jackal Finch! He said he wouldn’t charge them with Mutahi’s death. But he must have planned all along to hold him on some other charge. Jelani’s too political for Finch’s taste, speaking out against British rule like he does. Did Irungu come back?”
“According to the chief, Irungu was only fined for not having a kipande,” said Sam, referring to the case and the required government documents that one was required to wear around his neck. “But Jelani never returned. The old mondo-mogo has taken ill so he’s of no help to them. The village is worried.” Sam inhaled deeply. “But Finch may have done us and Jelani a favor. If Lilith planned to kidnap him, he’s safer in a native prison than in his own village.”
“You may be right,” said Jade.
“Right now, we need to get some sleep. In the morning, I want to take a look at Hascombe’s old haunts. If Steven Holly lured you there, there must be a reason.”
“You suspect Harry?”
“I would,” said Sam “except we know Pellyn’s dead, and Harry’s sure as hell not Lilith. But she may have used his house. Holly did try to lure you there. If we don’t find her there, we’ll set up my trap. In my newspaper ad, I told Lilith to meet me where Waters took a swim.”
“Just downriver from the falls,” said Jade. She yawned.
Sam looked at the palisade behind her. “The goat pen should do for us for tonight, right? We’ll be well chaperoned, too. I told the chief I’d sleep there tonight. We just need to be out before anyone sees you.”
JADE SHIFTED POSITION, pushing the persistent nanny goat off her lap. The acrid scent of goat wafted up and assaulted her as much as a bottle of smelling salts. Jade had spent enough time tending sheep and new lambs on her parents’ New Mexico ranch, but goats were an entirely different aroma. She stretched her legs in front of her and looked at Sam.
Sound asleep.
For a moment after they’d entered the goat kraal, Jade had actually thought the stay might be enjoyable. She’d imagined snuggling up to Sam,
his strong arms around her. And then some blasted nanny actually butted herself between them like a hairy old matron. Sam had chuckled and shifted, using the goat’s back as a pillow.
Jade tried it, but the odor was too strong. She sat up instead, her back against the palisade and her legs drawn up. That was, until another nanny scrambled onto her lap, maaing softly. But something other than goats kept her awake: concern for Jelani. Why was Finch keeping him? If they hadn’t already found Pellyn, she’d have suspected him more than ever.
She pulled her legs back up and wrapped her arms around her knees. Sleep finally overtook her, and she dreamed of Boguli, the old gray man from Mount Marsabit, the brother to the elephants. The soul of an elephant, if she believed the evidence of her last photograph on Marsabit.
In Jade’s dream he stood before her next to Jelani’s mother. The old woman kept saying, “Mamba,” and both of them pointed to Ol Donyo Sabuk. Just as Jade was about to turn in her dream and see what they wanted to show her, a pair of sharp little hooves dug into her thigh and she woke.
Jade could have sworn, as she shoved the persistent goat away, that she heard an elephant trumpet, but this time it sounded frustrated, as though a message had been interrupted.
HARRY HAD BEEN UNABLE TO FIND any sign of the crocodile, and had gone back into town Thursday, opting to spend his evening at the Norfolk hotel bar before going back to his own room and falling asleep. He woke on his bunk, fully dressed, his mouth tasting sour and his head throbbing. He splashed cold water on his face and decided some breakfast at the New Stanley hotel was in order.
That was where he ran into Neville Thompson.
“Hascombe,” called Neville. “Thank heaven. I need you to join us.”
Harry took one look at Neville’s face and gave up any hope of having a decent breakfast. “Cripes, man. What happened? Don’t tell me that bloody croc has struck again.”
“Worse,” said Neville. “Jade’s missing. She was flying yesterday and—”
Harry grabbed Neville’s shirtfront in both hands and yanked him closer. “What happened to Jade?”
“She didn’t come back. Inspector Finch is calling up Dr. Mathews and I’m rounding up a search party.”
Harry stifled a ripe swear. Somehow he couldn’t imagine Jade being in any serious trouble. But Thompson was a level-headed man and he was clearly agitated. “Likely she ran out of fuel and had to put down somewhere. Do you have any idea where she was headed?”
“She was flying back to my farm from Kinangop,” said Neville. “Is Blaney Percival about?”
Harry shook his head, but stopped when it only made his headache worse. “No. Still on Mount Kenya taking care of that elephant problem. I’ll grab some coffee and get my gun and truck. We’ll find the little minx, Thompson.”
By the time Harry returned in his vehicle, Neville had netted nine other men, including Finch, Mathews, and two reporters anxious for a scoop. The eleven men drove off to Kinangop, where they regrouped around Thompson.
“Miss del Cameron took off from here,” said Neville. “That was yesterday afternoon and she should have arrived back at the hangar within half an hour. I noticed she was still gone when I returned home last night, but by then it was too dark to do a proper search.”
“Mr. Thompson,” said the reporter with the big sunshades and wide straw boater, “I represent the Leader. What was Miss del Cameron doing out here, and how do you know that this is where she’d been?” The man asked deferentially, but his counterpart from the Standard licked the tip of his pencil, waiting to write every word of what promised to be a good story.
Neville pointed to the flattened grasses. “You can see the marks of the aeroplane’s wheels and the tail skid. That proves she took off from here.”
“Right,” said Finch, elbowing his way past the reporters. “And I happen to know that she was making some deliveries to Naivasha.”
“I saw the plane yesterday,” said the reporter from the Standard. “It looked to have someone sitting in the front seats. Is that correct, Mr. Thompson?”
“None of that matters,” snapped Finch. “We’re here to find Miss del Cameron, not to write stories. Thompson, you say she’d have headed straight back to your farm? No chance that she’d have diverted course?”
“None, Inspector,” said Neville. “As I understood it, she had adequate petrol for the trips she made and to return, but not much extra. She’d have to have landed and refueled. I checked the petrol drum this morning. It was at the same level as yesterday when I helped her fuel the plane.”
“Very well,” said Finch. “I want each of you to fan out your vehicles into a wide line and hold in that position unless you come to a ravine or something that you need to go around. Once you’re around, resume your proper place in the line. We want to cover as much ground as possible in one pass.” He pointed to Neville and Harry. “I want you two to take the ends of the line. You’re the most experienced in the bush. You can keep an eye on the others, keep them from straying. No one should be more than twenty yards from the man next in line.”
“Where do you want me, Inspector?” asked Dr. Mathews.
“You and I will take center point positions. And you reporters,” Finch barked. “You’re not here for a story. I expect you to assist in this search or I’ll throw you into prison for interfering with a rescue. We’re here to find this woman and, if possible, rescue her.”
Harry took his position on the north end of the line, clenching his jaw to bite back his distress. What optimism he’d first felt quickly fled like antelope in the presence of a lion pride. Jade was many things—foolhardy, brave, reckless—but she was also trustworthy. She’d never have taken Featherstone’s plane nor left her friends without a damned good reason.
Damned Featherstone! It’s his fault for leaving the bloody plane there to begin with.
Twenty minutes into the search, two cars had stalled out when their oil pans hit rocks. The line of vehicles collapsed to take up the slack. Harry checked every ravine before he drove around it, but so far all anyone had managed was to flush out several bush pigs and to panic a mongoose.
Then he spied a patch of yellow.
“I see something ahead,” Harry shouted, the words nearly choking him.
News of his discovery passed down the line and every man converged on the distant point where a bit of yellow stuck up above the grass like a guidon. Harry’s heart raced as he watched for any movement, any sign of life. He saw none.
“It’s a wing,” exclaimed the reporter from the Standard. He removed a large camera and a tripod from his Buick’s rear seat and began setting up a shot.
Harry fought the urge to smash the camera.
“There’s the propeller,” said Dr. Mathews. “That crumpled mess must be the wings, but I don’t see Miss del Cameron’s body anywhere in this debris.”
“There!” exclaimed Harry. He pointed north towards a patch of white and another bit of yellow. “Could that be a parachute? Thompson, did Jade have a parachute?”
Neville nodded. “She wore something bulky strapped around her when she left the farm. It hung rather low, as though she might sit on it. I thought it might be a cushion to elevate her for better visibility so I asked her about it. She said that Featherstone had left a parachute behind so she decided to keep it handy . . . in case.”
“In case,” repeated Harry. His jaws worked again, clenching and unclenching. “I thought she knew how to fly Featherstone’s damned machine. What was she doing up in it to begin with?”
Harry moved in closer to Thompson. Dr. Mathews joined them and Neville lowered his voice. “She was taking my wife and child to safety, along with Lady Dunbury and her baby.”
“To safety? From what, for the love of Pete?” roared Harry.
“Keep your voice down, Hascombe,” cautioned Neville. “From an old enemy.”
“An enemy!” Harry’s voice rang out. He looked from Thompson to Mathews, waiting for someone to explain. He saw the two reporte
rs pull out their notebooks.
“Tell us about this enemy,” said the Leader reporter.
“Just what or who was she taking to safety?” asked the hatless and sunburned Standard reporter with the camera.
“Someone tried to kidnap my son,” said Neville. “We feared another attempt.”
Harry wanted to ask where Jade had taken the children, but the reporters had closed in like jackals on a carcass, Mathews following close behind.
Finch called over from the wreckage, “You should have a look at this.”
Harry and the others trotted over to where he stood by the rudder. Finch poked at the parachute silk with his foot, nudging it gently aside.
Harry’s breath caught in his throat.
“IT’S TRUE!” whispered Jade. “It’s as if that elephant had kept me away until Bev and the girls arrived. “Father Jacquinet thinks he’s a guardian angel.”
They walked the rest of the way in to Harry’s ranch, Sam pushing the cycle. They kept their conversation low as Jade related her account of seeing Boguli and the old elephant.
Sam snorted in disbelief. “Well, if he’s protecting you, he’d better let us know whether or not Lilith is holed up in Harry’s house before she shoots us.”
There was no sign of activity in or around the building except for a few rodents that skittered away. If Harry or anyone had been back here recently, Jade saw no fresh evidence.
Sam drifted around the rooms, his lean, muscular body shifting like a slow-stalking wolf. He checked every shelf and every cupboard and peered into the side rooms, examining the floors for dust and footprints. “If she was here,” he said after two hours of intense searching, “she hasn’t been in here since you found Holly. And neither has Harry, by the looks of it.”
“Even my footprints are partially obscured by dust,” said Jade. “This can’t have been her headquarters.”
The Crocodile's Last Embrace Page 27
