Endangered

by Linda Chaikin

  She glanced at the familiar barrels of Kenyan coffee beans, delicately carved wooden boxes of spices from Zanzibar, and other tourist attractions—safari boots, jackets, stacks of postcards, rolls of candy mints, and Wrigley’s chewing gum. Zenobia’s beautiful watercolor paintings graced the walls, depicting majestic scenes of the wild African terrain, Mount Kilimanjaro, and Maasai warriors carrying their spears.

  The mounds of goods were all familiar to Sable. Zenobia, a third-generation Kenyan, had long participated in the trade from Dunsmoor shipping. In the old days the family had shipped ivory and hides, but that was long before the slaughter of wildlife had brought many species to the brink of extinction.

  Zenobia owned a much larger shop in Mombasa, where she went with Kate twice a year to buy from the dhows—little trading boats that came in a flotilla with goods from Zanzibar. She then exported goods on the Dunsmoor shipping line to cities in Europe and the Far East.

  Sable peered through the dusty glass-topped counter and scanned the Maasai jewelry made of leather, polished stones, and beads. There were animals, too, carved from polished wood and stone, bright tribal scarves, and fetishes. Behind the counter were displayed the more expensive pieces, including items priced up to a thousand dollars: brass-decorated chests and carvings….

  She stopped, her gaze stumbling across a large elephant carving that appeared to be of genuine ivory.

  She went behind the counter and carefully lifted it from its display. It couldn’t be…Gran would never carry real ivory or animal skins. Yet closer inspection convinced her she was wrong. It was ivory, and some skins of giraffe and zebra were also genuine.

  Zenobia finally emerged from her office and called to the tall African who came from the kitchen, “Jomo, we’ll take that coffee in the dining commons.”

  “I’m in here, Gran,” called Sable, her voice strained.

  “Oh, all right, dear. Jomo, bring the coffee to the shop. Odd,” she continued as she entered with a frown. “I knew I placed the letter in my desk. I must have mislaid it yesterday when I was moving things about looking for a bill that needs paying. I’ve been looking for it all this time. Shall I pour?” She proceeded to fill the two enamel mugs that Jomo had laid out on the small table by the window. “Don’t worry. I’ll remember what I did with it. I couldn’t have tossed it in the trash.”

  Sable turned, holding the ivory elephant. “Gran, how can you sell this?”

  Zenobia straightened from the table. “What?” She shook her head and squinted at the elephant as though she’d never seen it before. Then she sighed, and her eyes swerved apologetically to Sable.

  “Oh yes. That thing. Dreadful, isn’t it?”

  “You know it is.”

  “Just makes me sick.”

  “Gran—what’s it doing here?”

  Zenobia went to switch on the overhead lighting, and the cluttered room came to dusty life, showing up pillows in acrylic fur and stuffed animals. The stale musty odor of the clutter filled Sable with distress.

  “It isn’t mine,” said Zenobia crossly. “It’s a horrid reminder of the trouble I’m having with the shipping. I wish Skyler would come home. I’m getting too old to handle all this…. Neither are the skins mine,” she added with a defensive wave of her hand. “I thought you knew me better.”

  “I do. So I’m wondering how it could possibly be here.”

  Zenobia heaved a sigh and sank into a chair at the small table. “Come drink your coffee before it gets cold.”

  Sable felt guilty over the cross tone she had used with her grandmother and came around the counter, still holding the ivory elephant. “I’m sorry. It was depressing to see it here. What if the conservationists arrived early and saw these? Think how embarrassed we’d feel.”

  “Yes, especially after the white rhino…poor Bones,” she murmured of the beast. “He was special, you know—the only white one in these parts. I promised the conservationists I’d protect him, and now …”

  “Gran, surely these weren’t brought up from our warehouse in Mombasa?”

  “Yes, they were, and as I said, they don’t belong to us. Furthermore, I don’t know how they got there in the crates.”

  Sable walked up to the table and stood looking down at her. “Who found them?”

  Zenobia lifted her blue mug. “Kash.”

  Sable’s heart stopped, then she felt sick.

  “They’re from the Ivory House in Mombasa,” Zenobia admitted dully. “You remember it, don’t you?”

  “The auction house?” Sable asked, surprised. “It’s closed down now. Kash couldn’t have acquired them from there,” she said, mild accusation in her voice.

  “One can still find ivory for the right price.”

  Sable knew that, of course. She thought back to the colonial section of Mombasa. In Treasury Square there were several public buildings, and by the railroad near the old post office there was the old Game Department Ivory Room established in 1912 as a storage and display room for elephant tusks, rhino horns—superstitiously in demand in East Asia as an aphrodisiac—hippo teeth used for carvings, and other trophies recovered from poachers or collected from animals that “died naturally” or were shot as part of control programs. There were twice-yearly auctions. Sable had read that in one such auction, more than seven hundred thousand dollars worth of ivory and trophies were sold, including thousands of pieces of ivory, rhino horns, and hippo teeth.

  “Private dealing in ivory is prohibited indefinitely,” she protested. “If Kash got them in Mombasa, he did so on the black market.”

  “You’re right. However, Kash didn’t buy them at the auction.” Zenobia paled. “He found them in the Dunsmoor warehouse.”

  Sable lapsed into silence. The family warehouse…what were black-market items doing there? Did this mean there were more such illegal objects?

  “Kash brought these here?” she repeated numbly.

  “I’m sure they were old items,” Zenobia hastened. “They were goods once confiscated from the poachers and their merchants.”

  “All the more reason not to make use of them. Money is still being made by slaughtering the animals. Who can say with confidence that some dealers wearing the mask of Kenyan law aren’t deliberately working with the poachers in the black market? The white rhino for instance…and Moffet’s tusks. For the prices these will bring, the temptation for the law to look the other way is too great.”

  Zenobia winced. “Get them out of my sight. But I promised Kash, you see. He knows someone coming to the conference who wishes to buy them…who has great interest in such things.”

  Sable set the elephant back in its place. “It’s an affront to leave them in the open with the international conservationists arriving next week. Does he actually think there are black-market operators among them? Or does he think Vince arranged to have them in the warehouse to load on the Dunsmoor ships?”

  Kash wasn’t telling the truth. He couldn’t be. The family didn’t ship illegal items on the black market. What’s more, Zenobia knew it as well, so why was she covering for him with lame excuses? It appeared that her grandmother simply refused to believe Kash was capable of wrongdoing, even in the face of mounting evidence against him.

  And yet…Kash was no fool. If he meant to keep his work in poaching a secret, why bring such items here to flaunt under the nose of the Dunsmoor family, who were all avowed conservationists?

  Sable turned to face her grandmother, who looked pale and drawn now, as though the subject matter had made her ill. Sable’s anger began to smolder.

  “He has a lot of nerve bringing this here to sell. And whatever makes him think he has any right at all to place these items in the shop? And what was he doing snooping about the Dunsmoor warehouse in Mombasa? Who let him in?”

  “I did,” admitted Zenobia. “He came asking for the key, and I gave it to him.”

  Sable watched her, bewildered. “But why?”

  “Dear, you’d better sit down, too. This will take a while, unle
ss you want to wait and have dinner first?”

  It was obvious her grandmother hoped she would agree to delay this talk, but Zenobia’s reluctance to reveal what was on her mind only made Sable more intent to know the truth. She sat down opposite her grandmother. “Dinner can wait. I want to know now.”

  “It begins unpleasantly enough with the death of Seth Hallet.”

  Sable swallowed, her hands clenching in her lap. “Yes, Kash told me this afternoon. I was so shocked, I could hardly believe it was true. How did he die? And when?”

  “It was a dreadful tragedy. No one seems to have any notion how it could have happened. Seth was an expert when it came to knowing animals—just like Kash and Mckibber. He was killed by a charging rhino on a photographic safari in Tanzania. Most unusual, you’ll agree.”

  Sable’s throat went dry. “Kash blames Vince. It doesn’t make any sense. Vince never went to Tanzania—”

  She stopped, remembering. Mckibber had said something about “that debacle when he was in Tanzania.”

  “Do you know why Kash would think Vince was somehow involved?” Sable asked.

  Zenobia picked up a fan and cooled her pale face. “Kash hasn’t said. He wouldn’t, of course, unless he had certain proof. But he was quite certain you shouldn’t have come home yet. And he’s just as determined you shouldn’t work with your father at Samburu.”

  “So he told me, but he wasn’t willing to explain why he felt so strongly about it. I’m going to be working with my father and Kate, too, not just Vince. But Kash’s opinions will have no sway over my decisions, Gran. I’ve a calling, and I intend to see it through to the end. I’m going with Kate and Vince to be with my father.” She stood. “As for Kash, when he walked away two years ago without an explanation, he forfeited any right of involvement in my future.”

  Zenobia watched her, distracted. “Kash would disagree. He feels he had a legitimate reason for going away when he did, and it was you who failed to answer his letter.”

  “I didn’t receive his letter,” she said quietly.

  “Did you tell him?”

  “No,” Sable admitted.

  “Why not, for goodness’ sake?”

  “Because…he’d just accuse Vince of destroying it. Besides that, I’m not certain I want to reopen a door long since closed and bolted.”

  “Bolted from the inside, Sable?”

  “I was sure he bolted it first! It’s too late now. I’m going on with my plans.”

  “You know what your mother would say: ‘You’ve no right to plod stubbornly on when the Lord’s making it clear you’re coming to a new crossroad.’ Better slow down and do a lot of praying and Scripture searching. It’s when we think we have all the answers that we’re in the greatest danger of making a wrong choice.”

  “Oh, Gran, please, not now. I just got home, I just met Kash for the first time in over two years, and he dared—” She stopped, reliving the emotion that rushed into her heart.

  “And he dared what?”

  To kiss me, Sable could have confessed, but she looked away and stared out the window. “Don’t worry about my rushing to become engaged to Vince,” she said tiredly. “We had our first disagreement only hours ago. Neither of us are in a candlelight mood.”

  “Candles, bah. Love is born in the nitty-gritty. You need to marry a man who cares about many of the same things you do.”

  “Well that certainly rules out Kash. He’s a total stranger to me now, even more so than Vince. I don’t understand either one of them…and I don’t care to discuss my engagement just now. I’m terribly sorry about Seth’s death…you know how much I liked him. I can understand Kash’s pain over his brother. They were so close, so much alike. But accusing Vince of somehow being responsible is absurd.”

  “I’m worried about all this just the same. When has Kash ever done anything absurd? He’s always been mentally solid and as calm as a windless night.”

  Sable had no answer, for down deep in her heart she knew this to be true. The truth was she knew Kash well—she knew what to expect of him emotionally—and when he refused to share his thoughts, his heart, there wasn’t anything she could do to force it. It was Vince who had surprised her today. She’d never seen him so angry, so threatened, and even cutting in his remarks. He had shown a side of himself she hadn’t known existed. She tensed, thinking how close she had been to an engagement. Was she really sure he was the man the Lord had for her?

  Gran was right. It would be unwise to accept an engagement ring now. She must see Vince in all sorts of situations before she really could say she knew him. Kash, however, she had seen at his best, his worst, and all places in between. And always her thoughts wanted to return to that well-traversed path to where their hearts had beat as one.

  “Kash called on me a week ago about the shipping,” Zenobia explained. “It was at that time he asked me to stop you from coming to work with Vince. I told him there was little I could do about it, that you were coming as much for Skyler as Vince.”

  Sable watched her grandmother with alert interest. “So he came here just to discuss shipping?”

  Zenobia hesitated for a moment. “He discussed several things. Seth was one, you and Vince another.”

  “And the shipping? Did it have to do with the ivory and skins he found and brought here?”

  “No, he didn’t know about them the first time he came. But he did ask for the keys. It was the company’s financial problems that brought him here.”

  “How did he know about them?”

  “Mckibber must have mentioned something. He knew that Vince was trying to save the company from ruin by finding other investors to buy in, some wealthy entrepreneurs from Indonesia and Taiwan. Kash warned against it. As I told you, he wants to buy the company…including your shares.”

  Sable’s gaze held her grandmother’s. “Mine? Why?”

  “This is the heart of what I wanted to talk to you about.” Zenobia sighed and set her mug down. “Perhaps I should have told you before you left Toronto, but I thought it best to tell you in person.”

  Sable tensed at the concern in her voice.

  “When your grandfather and I had to give up the land, he bought into the Mombasa shipping line and eventually was able to buy out the other British businessmen from Hong Kong. I’ve recently discovered that the finances he used were not entirely his own.”

  Something was wrong. Sable could feel it in the pounding of her heart. And it had to do with Kash….

  “Not ‘entirely’? You mean, Grandfather didn’t use the money he earned from selling his sheep to the government?”

  “Yes, but it wasn’t nearly enough. I didn’t know it then, but a large amount of it came from the Hallets.”

  The Hallets? “How—when they had so little? Wasn’t that what we were always told?”

  “It’s what I always thought,” Zenobia said quietly, fingering her cup.

  Sable leaned forward in the chair, watching her grandmother’s strained face in the light. “We were told that was the reason the family took in Mara,” she said of Kash’s mother, “that she’d been left without anything, both her parents killed in the Emergency.”

  “All that’s true,” Zenobia agreed. “But in South Africa when he visited his relatives, Kash discovered his mother’s father had filed a claim in the Australian gold rush and made good before he settled in Kenya.”

  Sable mused for a moment, uncertain how the news affected her. “How do we know it’s true?”

  “There’s no question about it. Mr. Hendricks, our lawyer in Mombasa, did some investigating after Kash’s inquiry and produced a document signed by Jack,” she said of her late husband, Sable’s grandfather. “In the document, Jack told of how he’d gone back to what was left of the Hallet estate in Kenya and retrieved a good deal of money in Australian gold pieces. Evidently he knew about it all along but never told me. The Hallets had a vault, and it was left untouched by the Mau Mau.” Zenobia looked away, obviously ashamed of her husband. “You
r grandfather invested that gold in Dunsmoor shipping, buying it out. I never knew.”

  Sable gripped her coffee mug. “Are you saying,” she said in a low dry whisper, “that Mara Hallet, as a young girl, never knew about the gold her parents had put away?”

  “Evidently not.” Zenobia looked old and pained. “And to think she lived here for several years before her marriage to her cousin Thomas Hallet, thinking she was receiving Christian kindness from me and Jack.”

  “Then—when Mara and Thomas died in the plane crash, they didn’t know. There was no will for Kash and Seth?”

  Zenobia shook her head, looking intently at her fingernails on her wrinkled hands. “They never knew. Nor Mckibber. He still doesn’t know, unless Kash has told him recently.”

  Sable didn’t think so, since Mckibber would have mentioned it when he discussed the shipping with her earlier.

  “So Kash came to you about it?”

  “Yes, when he learned what Vince wanted to do about foreign investors. Now that Seth is dead, Kash inherits all that belongs to the Hallets.”

  All those years he and Seth had grown up working with her father as the sons of an overseer of Kenyatta. As Sable digested all this, Zenobia said quietly, “So it appears the Dunsmoor shipping line belongs equally to the three of us—you, Kash, and myself. And since I’m leaving my portion to you…well, you see, don’t you? You and Kash must work this out.”

  Sable swallowed. There must be many thousands of dollars owed to Kash from the years Dunsmoor shipping was prosperous. How would she ever pay him back?

  “Kate has no part in it,” said Zenobia. “I’m leaving her the shop in Mombasa. So you see why Kash must be involved in any decision you and Vince will make about other investors.”

  “Then Vince doesn’t know?”

  “That Kash is an owner?” Zenobia fanned herself. “No, not yet. When Kash was here last week he asked me not to say anything yet.”

  Sable wondered why.

  “I told him I wouldn’t. That I’d talk to you first. Kash is dead set against these Far Eastern businessmen, though he didn’t say why.”