“Sun protectors! Of course,” said Jade. “Cyril said his kidnapper had very big black eyes.”
Sam touched her cheek again, then pulled his hand back. “I’d bet my plane, if I still had it, that Lilith is in the search party for you.”
“A constable?” Jade paused, considering her idea. “No, wait!” She snapped her fingers. “A reporter! Bev’s sister, Emily, met with the reporter from the Leader. He’s a small man and he wears very large sun protectors, as I recall. Emily said he had rooms in the Victoria and they looked opulent.”
“If that was Lilith, it would explain how she was able to leave notes and packets for Steven Holly so easily,” said Sam. “She lived in the same hotel. And reporter is a job that would give her access to a lot of people and places.”
“Spit fire!” Jade said. “The Leader is the paper running most of the articles on riots and problems in the Indian district. Good lord, you don’t suppose she actually fomented a riot to have Pellyn killed, do you?” But even as she said it, she knew the woman was capable of throwing away anyone, even her own lover. “Should we go back into town, Sam, and confront her?”
“Too risky. She’ll be in that search party for you. After reading my notice, she’d want to see for herself that you were dead. Then she’ll come for my rendezvous. If we go into town, we might miss her or, worse yet, alert her that we’re onto her.”
Jade’s head was still reeling from the insight. As she turned around, another object, tucked into a darker corner, caught Jade’s eyes as Sam’s flashlight brushed past it. She took hold of his hand and carefully swung the light back.
“Well, dip me in phosphorus and call me a match,” he said. “It’s a lantern. An old magic lantern.”
Jade reached for it with the handkerchief and brought it down for a better look. The lantern was a large one, nearly the size of her old Graflex camera, with a space inside for a candle. “When I first stopped by this place, I saw a monkey here. I thought she had some white root in her hand, but it was a candle stub. Lilith or Pellyn must have dropped it when they brought back the lantern.”
Inside the lantern was a flat packet wrapped in brown paper. Jade set the lantern on the table and opened the packet, exposing glass photo disks with transparent photographic images. Each image was carefully tinted, but the images themselves made Jade shudder. The body in each was the same, David in his uniform, but where David’s smiling face showed on one, a skeletal head showed on another, and in between, half skeletal and half flesh. Rotating the disk at the right speed would give the illusion of the face melting into a skull, especially when projected onto wavering smoke. Add a mind distorted by drugs and one got a convincing ghost.
“That explains the image of David by the barn,” Jade said. “How could she do that to her own son’s picture?”
“Would you expect anything less of her? She’s Lilith,” said Sam. “But it gives me an idea.” He took Jade by the shoulders. “Now listen up. I told you once that you weren’t a killer, and you aren’t. But this plan of mine, of ours, might put us in a position where one of us has to shoot to kill.”
“You’re not a killer either, Sam.”
“But I did shoot down men in the war. This is war and we are on the side of good. So if it comes to it, just remember these words: ‘Be sure that you are right, and then go ahead.’ ”
“Abe Lincoln?”
Sam shook his head. “Davy Crockett.”
“Well, blast. We know how the Alamo turned out.”
Sam eyed the magic lantern. “This gives me an idea. I’m going to create my own diversion to fool Lilith when she comes tonight.” He examined the glass disk with David’s images. “Amazing in a warped sort of way. That shows a great deal of planning.”
Jade shuddered, remembering that nightmarish vision. “It shows a complete lack of moral scruples. What’s your plan?”
He lit one of the candles. “There’s room between the pictures of David. I’m going to make a silhouette of a seated man and shine it inside my tent.”
“Ah, to make it seem that you’re inside when you’re not. Won’t she just shoot?”
“She might, in which case I’m not the target,” Sam said. “But I’m betting that her ravenous desire for vengeance on Pili outweighs her need for killing a blackmailer.”
Jade shivered and Sam put his arm around her. “Worried?”
“Yes, and I’ve been thinking about Neville leading that search party today. Everyone thinks I’m dead. It’s a bit unnerving. Lilith should be gloating by now.”
“I imagine she’s furious that you escaped that easily. I’m sure she had big plans for you.” Sam took down a tin mug from a shelf and held it over the flame, collecting soot. “Can you find another mug or a bowl? Oh, and a bottle of alcohol. I saw one by the medicines.”
Jade brought the items to him. Sam scraped the accumulated soot from the bottom of the mug into the dish. Next he added a few drops of alcohol, enough to make a slurry. When he had enough, he used his knife tip to painstakingly apply the ink to the glass. “This should make a decent image. I’ll put the lantern in my tent and shine it on the canvas flap. It will look like I’m sitting in a chair, waiting.”
“Where am I going to be?” asked Jade.
Sam looked up from his work. “I’d planned for you to be atop the falls with a clear line of fire, but now I’m having second thoughts.”
“Sam! You promised me that I’d be a partner in this.”
He applied a bit more ink and surveyed the result. “That was before we found this hideout. What if she comes here to collect or destroy evidence? She’ll know we’ve been in here. She might just flee the country, or she might come to my camp even warier.”
“You want me to stay here, then?”
Sam blew gently on the image he’d made and nodded. “Looks rather contemplative, doesn’t he?” He set the disk aside and took Jade’s hands in his. “If she comes here, you’ll be waiting for her. We can’t risk letting her escape again.”
“Somehow, I don’t see her trying to. As far-reaching as the British Empire is, she’s running out of places to go. All right, Sam. I’ll stay here. And between the two of us, we’ll finish this tonight.”
CHAPTER 26
We often fear what we can’t see, the hidden dangers.
It’s the lion hiding in the tall grass, the rhino or buffalo asleep in the
ravine. But nothing tops the terror of a lurking crocodile.
—The Traveler
HARRY DROVE AT A BREAKNECK SPEED towards Parklands, pushing his truck past forty miles per hour in the open grasslands. Considering the hidden wallows and rocks as well as the brush, it was a risky act, but Harry was beyond any thoughts or emotions save a burning need for revenge. Like smoke from a brushfire, it filled his nostrils, tainted his mouth, and stung his eyes. The accompanying blaze scorched across his soul, leaving a blackened and raw wasteland.
How could Dunbury be such a damned fool? He hired some wastrel and, soon after, there were threats against the children. Couldn’t he see the connection? The newcomer had obviously duped him and driven Jade to fly an injured plane to her death.
Her death!
Harry ground his teeth and bit his lower lip. Jade! Except possibly for Dunbury’s own wife, Harry had never met a woman with the pluck and daring of Jade. And he’d never wanted a woman in the way he’d wanted her. In his head, he knew he could never have her, but it was enough to know she existed and to have her dance in and out of his life, refreshing it and all of Africa like the rains after a drought.
He’d find this Fairley and kill him.
AN HOUR AFTER SAM LEFT, Jade couldn’t abide the shack any longer. True, from within, she’d have an element of surprise and a clear shot at Lilith when she came through the door, but that was only if it was still light when Lilith arrived. And Jade felt as confined as when she’d sat in a cage as leopard bait. There had to be a better place to make a stand.
She listened at the door and, heari
ng nothing, pushed it open, her Winchester in hand. The shifting shadows told her that the day had moved on into afternoon. Sam should be putting his tent up now. He’d promised Jade that he’d first motor into Nairobi and leave word with Finch to arrest the reporter from the Leader. They’d argued that point for nearly thirty minutes before Sam had conceded.
“You can leave some of these documents for him with an anonymous note,” she’d argued.
“But if he doesn’t arrest her, and she finds out, she’ll be warier. She may go to ground,” Sam had countered.
“Or it will drive her to your rendezvous more quickly. But we need to plug all the holes, Sam. I’ll be here at the shack, you’ll be back at the falls, and Finch can watch Nairobi.” He’d finally agreed, but Jade could tell he wasn’t happy with the idea.
He wants her dead, not recaptured.
To a large extent, Jade agreed. But she told herself that they had to make the moral effort to take her alive. Shooting Lilith had to be a last resort.
“The croc isn’t getting that chance,” argued Sam. “Why should she?”
Sam’s question had been rhetorical, but Jade kept trying to answer it in her mind. So far she hadn’t succeeded.
The tree line stood a few yards from the shed. Jade eyed the stand, looking for a tree that would provide decent cover and conceal her while giving her a clear view of the building. After fifteen minutes of deliberation, she chose the one that the little vervet monkey had climbed. But just as Jade reached it, she saw something sticking out from the brush below.
A rawhide pouch! It was the kind worn by both Jelani and his mentor. Neither of them would have left it without an excellent reason. It was a mark of their office.
Jelani left it as a sign. He’s here. She looked back at the shack. But where? They’d searched the entire place. Or had they? If this outer door had been hidden, might another one also be hidden inside?
Jade stuck the pouch in her pocket and went back in. Sam had left his flashlight with her and she played it over every surface, looking intently for a hidden door. There were no scrapes on the floor, nothing to show that a set of shelves swung out.
She stepped outside and paced the building’s dimensions, then measured the interior. Nothing!
She paced it again and this time she felt more than heard the echo of a hollow space. The sound was as faint as a breath, but it was real.
Under the floor!
Jade grabbed the worn rug and threw it back, revealing an inset door. There was no handle, only a wooden bolt that fit into a recess in the floor. She drew back the bolt, then used it to hoist the door, propping it against the bed frame. Jade shone the light into the Stygian darkness.
“Jelani?” she called.
No one answered. Slinging her rifle across her back, Jade descended the wooden ladder. The air below was suffocatingly close, dank and ripe with the scent of stale sweat and urine. But it didn’t smell of death or decay, and that gave Jade hope. She drew on it as she turned, willing it to steady her hand as she ran the beam over the cellar.
Jelani!
He lay in a corner, his hands bound to his feet behind his back. Jade leaned her rifle against the wall and knelt beside him, feeling for a pulse. It was there, faint but steady. She pulled her knife from her boot and sliced his bonds. Then she gently massaged his wrists and ankles.
“I’ve got to get you out of here,” she murmured. “But how?” Unless he regained consciousness and could cling to her back, she couldn’t see a way clear. It was too far to try to lift him and there was nothing to stand on.
Rope! She remembered seeing a coil. She could tie it around his chest, under his arms, and haul him up like a sack of meal.
Jelani moaned faintly. “Lie still,” she said. “I’ll be right back with some water.”
Jade went up top, picked up her canteen, and took the rope. When she reached the cellar floor, she gently lifted Jelani’s head and let the water trickle down his throat. He swallowed once, then coughed, his chest and shoulders jerking with each spasm. His eyes flickered open.
“Easy,” she whispered, shifting her leg to ease the cramp in her left knee. “Did Finch put you in here?”
Jelani shook his head weakly. “He released me. Taken on way home.”
“Who?” She offered more water, but Jelani had fainted again.
That was when she heard the elephant trumpet.
We’ve got to get out of here now! Jade leaped for the ladder but before she could reach the second rung, the trapdoor above her slammed shut.
SAM HEARD THE COMMOTION all the way up to the police station. Glass shattering, shouts, screams, and general pandemonium erupted from somewhere in the Indian district. A phalanx of European curiosity seekers—mostly men—hurried down Government Road, eager to catch a glimpse of the riot.
There was no one manning the police station desk.
“Damn!” Sam rummaged for paper and a pencil, then wrote a quick note for Finch.
Inspector. Have reason to believe that the reporter from the Leader, the small man with the large sunglasses, is actually Lilith Worthy in disguise. Do not let her leave Nairobi.
After a moment’s hesitation, Sam signed it as Lord Dunbury, hoping Finch would pay more heed to that name than to an anonymous note. He folded the note in half with the mining forms inside and wrote FINCH on the outside.
As he exited the station, Sam collided with a young man hurrying down the street. “What’s going on?” Sam asked.
The man brandished a stout stick. “Some Indians said that the plague is a government plot to kill them. The district’s in an uproar. I’m going to establish order before they attack us.”
He hurried away, seemingly anxious to get into the fray. Sam felt an uneasy twinge in his chest as he started his motorcycle. What better way to occupy the police today than to pay someone to foment a riot? There was no way he could count on Finch to find Lilith in town now, not with all this mess. But Sam wondered if he could himself. He made his way around the gathering throngs and headed for the Victoria Hotel. The street and lobby were nearly empty and Sam asked the clerk for the reporter’s room number.
“That fellow’s gone, sir. Checked out two days ago, he did. Not sure where he moved to. Didn’t leave any forwarding notice here.”
Sam thanked the clerk and hurried back to his motorcycle. He needed to get to the falls, set up his decoy tent, and hide. At least, he mused, Jade was safely out of the way. There was no way that a woman like Lilith, one who kept extravagantly appointed rooms, would stay in that dumpy shack.
HARRY DROVE STRAIGHT FOR AVERY’S STABLES. If that Fairley was on-site, then that was where he’d be. He didn’t even shut the truck door when he got out. He just grabbed his Holland & Holland and drew back the bolt, putting a cartridge in the chamber.
The first shot in the leg. After he tells me why he killed Jade, I’ll put a second in his black heart.
But other than the horses peacefully munching hay in their clean stalls, the barn was empty. Harry hadn’t expected that. For a moment, he stood in the center aisle, uncertain what to do next. Then he heard the sputter of a badly maintained motorcycle coming up the drive.
He ran around the paddock towards the house in time to see a pale woman alight from a rickshaw and approach the house, carrying a small valise. The rickshaw driver hurried after her with another, larger suitcase. The woman was met at the door by a servant dressed in immaculate white. Harry recognized the servant as Farhani, who bowed to the woman.
“Memsahib Heathington,” Farhani said, “it is good you are home. Everyone is fled.”
“Fled!” The woman stood rooted to the veranda, her gaze darting every which way. She spotted Harry. “I recognize you. You came to our camp. Jade said you took sick afterwards.”
Harry approached and touched his hat brim. “Harry Hascombe, Miss Heathington. Dunbury knows me.”
Emily looked at Farhani for confirmation. He nodded. “Then,” she demanded, “perhaps you can be so go
od as to tell me what the devil is Farhani talking about? Where is my sister?”
Before Harry could answer, Farhani broke in. “They are fled to escape an evil kidnapper that threatened a Guiding Girl and the children. Memsahib left a letter for you.” He stepped aside as Emily led the way into the house.
“You are Lady Dunbury’s sister?” asked Harry.
“I am.” She offered her hand for him to shake. “Emily Heathington, Mr. Hascombe. I’ve heard your name mentioned.”
Farhani handed a sealed envelope to Emily, who ripped it open, scattering shreds of the envelope onto the carpet. The note inside, written in Beverly’s neat hand on fine linen rag, was brief. Emily read it aloud.
“‘Emily, so sorry to cause you fright. We’re safe, but we fear someone may harm the children. Threats were made against Mary Postlewaithe. We’d hoped to have this resolved before your return, but if you are reading this, then you may also be in some danger. You should return to Mombassa until I can send word to you. Love, Beverly.’
“Return to Mombassa,” Emily said. “What sort of nonsense is this?” The clock chimed two in the background. Emily looked to Farhani. “Do you know anything else?”
“Yes. Memsahib Jade is dead.”
Emily shrieked and would have fallen if Harry hadn’t caught her. She covered her mouth with her hands and stared, horrified at the white-robed man before them, looking at him as though he were the angel of death. “Dead?” she breathed.
Harry guided her to a chair and poured a glass of brandy for her. “Afraid so,” he said.
“Indeed,” said Farhani. “That is what the egg peddler told the cook.”
Harry pressed the glass into her hand. “The aeroplane she was flying was tampered with and she crashed. And someone put a notice in this morning’s paper saying that the lioness was dead.”
Emily drank the brandy in two gulps. “Then it was premeditated murder.” She looked at Harry. “You came here to tell Avery?”
Harry looked sidewise at Farhani without answering.
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