“Oh my gosh. I had no idea.”
“And yet, he was all alone in his pain, even though I was right next to him. I thought maybe he just needed time and that we could share our grief together when he recovered. But the next day he left without saying goodbye.”
“What? Why?”
“I thought it was me. I thought maybe the loss was so great that he couldn’t face that kind of pain, and since it seemed like I didn’t know how to help him, he ran from me.” She wiped a tear. “For about a month, I walked around in a fog. I couldn’t feel a thing.”
“I’ll bet. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“And then I got a letter from him.”
“What did it say?”
“He said he was sorry. He said that the party was concerned about how a baby might affect his loyalty. When he came home and was overwhelmed with his emotions, he knew they were right. He couldn’t bear to put his family at risk. It was best that I start over. He had given me the tea to protect me, he said.”
“No!” I gasped. “How could he do that?”
“I was devastated.”
“Ling-Ru, I am so sorry. I had no idea.”
“I never saw him again. I wouldn’t have wanted to after that.”
“That must have been such a painful time.”
“A year later, I met Sam.” She turned to me. “I am so sorry I doubted you. I just couldn’t face losing another person in my life—two people.”
“Don’t be silly. You’ve been through so much.”
“I guess I’ve been conditioned to not have faith. I’ll let you and Lu Lu say your goodbyes.” Ling-Ru started to walk off. “I’m going to help pack up. Craig is sending a helicopter for us at noon.”
“What about the rest of Nigel’s team?”
“The survivors have been handcuffed to a tree. They will be taken into custody.”
“What about his elephants?”
“Jet found them.”
“And the ivory?”
“They’re bringing a second helicopter in to confiscate it.”
“Wish I could go back with the elephants.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“Do the Trappists know you’re coming?”
“Yup. It’s all been arranged.”
I started outlining a schedule in my head. “Maybe I could go back with Lu Lu.”
“Catherine,” Ling-Ru said in a scolding tone.
“What? I’d be back in a week. Craig wouldn’t miss me.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“No, why?”
“He has plans for you.”
“Why am I always the last to hear about my itinerary?”
“You need better comms.” Ling-Ru smiled, holding up her cheap Chinese cellphone and walked away.
I scratched Dim Sum behind the ears and gave Lu Lu another good pat on the flank. I couldn’t think of two individuals so deserving of each other. I was thrilled that they could finally be together after two years of torment.
Although this happy union was born out of tragedy, I couldn’t help but see a parallel in the union of multiple fragmented elephant families that had survived a poaching event. Sometimes these groups were made up of complete strangers who had come together to survive. And in some small way, I could also see the parallel in the union between Ling-Ru and Sam and that between Jon and me. We were all damaged goods who had just joined forces, wittingly or unwittingly, in this war to save elephants.
Lu Lu rumbled a deep, long rumble, as if she sensed my tentative attempt to say goodbye. I started humming “Amazing Grace” again as I leaned into her side and petted her chest.
Dim Sum came and leaned into me as I leaned against Lu Lu. Lu Lu held her trunk up to my ear and face and breathed softly, her moist breath smelling of bananas again. And in that moment, sandwiched between two kindred spirits, I felt an enormous sense of hope for elephants. We could survive this—if enough people knew that they were kindred spirits that needed to be saved.
Connecting the Dots
I stood in Craig’s doorway, watching him read a document. I’d been in the back, finishing up the ivory DNA sequencing and analysis, and hadn’t heard him come in. I hadn’t seen him since the spy plane incident and couldn’t help feeling guilty about working with Marcus behind his back. Having it blow up in the newspapers must have been particularly hurtful.
I finally knocked softly. “I hope you know that I never doubted you,” I said.
Craig looked up at me. “What kind of spy leaves a stone unturned?” He put the document down and smiled. “Not a bloody good one in my books.”
“Come on, Craig.” I came in and sat down. “No one’s skin is that thick.”
Craig sat back and folded his hands behind his head. “Not even an elephant’s.” He looked at me admiringly. “Fitting that you get to be the first to hear the news.”
“What news?”
“Our wildlife crime lab just got funding to expand.”
“What excellent timing. I am proud to report it has just had its first success.”
“You found the origin of the tugboat ivory?”
“I’ll have to send the sequence off to the University of Washington to confirm, but I compared it against the CITES elephant genetic database using the phylogenetic software they provided. It’s a match with the Ugandan government stocks.”
“Really, hey? That’s bloody good news. You’re going to have to teach me how to run that machine before it threatens to take over my whole operation here.”
“The process is so automated now that all you have to do is press a button.”
“Something tells me it isn’t that simple.”
“I’ll walk you through it tomorrow.”
“Splendid.” He smiled. “I suppose there are a few loose ends to tie up in the meantime.”
“How is Ling-Ru’s paperwork coming along?”
“I’ve sent word to the monastery. The U.S. consulate in Hong Kong says it shouldn’t be more than a few weeks to get clearance for the two of them to fly to San Francisco.”
“That is excellent news.” I sat down.
“She told me to tell you that she already has a dinner date planned with your father.”
“They will be quite the match. I wonder who could drink whom under the table.”
“I’ll refrain from betting.”
“Smart move.” I laughed. “Any news on what will happen to the confiscated ivory?”
“Both shipments are scheduled to be part of Hong Kong’s first ivory burn.”
“Really? That’s a fitting end. Speaking of burning ivory, there’s one thing that I keep forgetting to ask you.”
“Yes?”
“That thumb drive you had given me with footage of the 1989 ivory burn. I was thinking about it the other night. I never got to see it because it was in my bag that got stolen. What did you want me to see?”
“Remember the Zambian witch doctor’s right-hand man?”
“Yes, I remember Ernest, why?”
“He was standing next to Moi. He turns out to be a pretty well-connected guy.”
“How can you be sure they know each other?”
“You don’t just stand next to the president of Kenya and not have a relationship.”
“So what are you thinking?”
“I think that Ernest had become Nigel’s major supplier throughout Africa. With strong ties to the government in Uganda.”
“Anything else?”
“The other reason I wanted you to have a look is because I suspect that the Chinese woman who was just caught in Tanzania had some contacts there.”
“You mean the queen of ivory?”
“Yes. I believe she and Ernest have teamed up, using Alvares as their runner.”
“Alvares? Nigel’s former runner, Alvares?”
“A hunch.” He stood up and handed me a new thumb drive. “I made another copy for you. See if you can confirm Alvares.”
“Will do.�
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“And I can also tell you this. The HIN that you got in the gulf is linked to a large Vietnamese syndicate run by someone with known ties to Alvares. Sam’s contact at the Guangzhou market was able to convince the tugboat captain to cooperate in the investigation and he gave us good information about the syndicate. He pointed us to a large shipment of ivory that was confiscated by the Vietnamese government last month that originated in Uganda.”
“Really?”
He gave me his cautionary look. “I’m telling you all this because I want you to start thinking about Africa again and not about your new friend Lu Lu.”
“Hey, no jokes about Lu Lu. I’m really going to miss her!”
“I’m sure you will.” Craig pulled out a telegram from his desk and handed it to me. “In the meantime, this came for you this morning.”
I sat down and rubbed the paper back and forth in my fingers. I had so yearned for these moments, to open up a letter from Jon and savor each word. And now, here was my chance to read it from start to finish—but I was afraid. Would he write to say goodbye?
“He couriered it over from his hotel. He’s still in Hong Kong.”
My heart skipped a beat. “He is?”
Craig nodded to a garment bag hanging over the back of the door to the genetics lab. “A little something for your reunion.” He looked me up and down. “I never understand you tomboy types. I’m hoping you’ll find my selection a bit more suitable than your current outfit.”
—
After the bust of Nigel’s elephant-back safari, we were picked up by helicopter and taken to a small town where a driver was waiting to take us to Kunming. We had to stay the night in order to get a flight back to Hong Kong. There was no time for shopping, other than the cheap, thin cotton outfit I was currently wearing that I bought at a street market on the way home. There was something about the cut of cheap Asian pants on my body that just didn’t work. The crotch was too long and the waist too small. Not a good combination in the best of circumstances.
“Craig, what did you do?” I looked at the garment bag, wondering what was in the letter. Jon must have come to his senses and realized that I hadn’t cheated on him. That the incident with Sam was all a big misunderstanding. How could he possibly understand that the hesitation I expressed at my hotel room door was all about me and not about him? “If I didn’t know you better, I’d think this was a little creepy—getting me something to wear on a date with another man.”
“Good thing I do know you better than that, because I would have hated to miss the opportunity.”
“Let me guess, orchids for the wounded”—I unzipped the top of the bag and felt the green silky material—“and a raw silk shift for the forgiven. You’ve outdone yourself.”
“There’s a career in there somewhere, isn’t there?”
“Maybe a safer one than this.”
“Don’t be so quick to run me out of conservation.”
“You must realize that your appetite for tailored clothing has made the rounds.”
“You should know by now that I’m immune to the opinions of others.”
“I do feel like I have to ask something about that. Why did you have me fly the Mong Cai border at night?”
“That was the information given.”
“And where did that information come from?”
“Marcus.”
“Marcus?” I thought back to my last conversation with Marcus about suspicion and about timing being just a little off. “Really?” I could now see what had happened. Weiping must have told Marcus that the transaction at the Mong Cai border was going to happen during the day, and he had told Craig that it was going to take place at night. In order not to miss the opportunity entirely, Weiping made sure that I documented the HIN of the tugboat.
“Would Marcus purposely try to undermine you?”
“Well, I don’t know if it’s personal, really. It’s more a matter of us being competing agencies. He didn’t want us to get the win.”
“But he gave you the information.”
“At the time, he was assuming you weren’t going to be able to fly. He thought he was telling me as a courtesy and that he’d get someone from WTW to fly.”
“But then why did he have me fly with Jimmy?”
“Jimmy requested you. Marcus figured he had to go along.”
“But I don’t understand. You and Marcus are on the same side.”
“There will always be rivals, Catherine. It’s the one thing that undermines good people. And it doesn’t help when there is very little money to go around and our agencies are directly competing for that funding.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“Don’t worry, Marcus and I will work things out.”
“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”
“Can’t take this stuff personally, or it will do you in.”
“But you told me that the only reason one succeeds at this game is if they did take it personally.”
“You don’t really listen to everything I say, do you?”
“Come on, Craig, you’re not superhuman. Please let me apologize.” I put my hands over his. “I deeply admire you professionally.” I looked at Craig’s familiar expression, letting me know that I was fumbling. I got tongue-tied, dropped his hands, and blurted out, “And, well, I hope you know how I feel about you.”
Craig reached behind his desk and lifted up a large rectangular-shaped object covered in a white cloth. “Would you still deeply admire me if I told you that I just acquired a nightingale?” He pulled the cloth, revealing a nightingale sitting on a perch within the cage.
“You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“Wait, the nightingale?”
“Of course not the nightingale, but I liked the idea of showing solidarity.”
I looked at the unassuming nightingale and noticed the carved ornament on the side of the cage. “Where did you get the NNS symbol?”
“Weiping stopped by to give it to me. He was happy to report an extremely generous anonymous donation to the society.”
“Let me guess, diamonds from the horse winnings?”
Craig nodded. “Mr. Sung was better at betting than Li had led on. He left half to Li and half to the NNS, hence the two nightingales that Mr. Hang had given him. It’s no wonder the SHU wasn’t happy. The Hong Kong Jockey Club books are pretty slim these days.” He waved toward my handbag. “Do you have your cellphone handy?”
I pulled out my phone from my bag. “What’s up?”
“Find the picture you took in Kunming. I want to have a last look at it.”
Craig looked at the picture that I had taken in the park in Kunming, and we both immersed ourselves in the ethereal image of the circle of old men holding their birdcages.
“Weiping told me that the NNS was born out of this little bird club in Kunming,” Craig explained. “The Kunming Nightingale Society quickly realized what was happening to the last remaining wild places in China and became an underground movement that spread to all the important conservation provinces, first in the provinces that host the last remaining pandas, the mountainous eastern edge of west China, in Sichuan, Shaanxi, and Gansu. And then to the border provinces, particularly Yunnan in the south. And, of course, Guangzhou because of the Pearl River and the famous markets. They formed the National Nightingale Society a few years later.” He pointed to Mr. Weiping. “Mr. Weiping and his associates knew how to get our assistance in taking down the illegal ivory trade in China. That tugboat was the key.”
I studied the faces in the photo with new interest. There, right in front of me, was Mr. Hang, the manager of the Da Xin ivory factory. When I first studied the photo, I had only recognized Mr. Weiping because I hadn’t met Mr. Hang yet. “Amazing.” As I tried to connect all the details, and couldn’t erase the sight of Jin Jin’s hacked-up body, one thing stood out loud and clear. “Are the others going to be safe?”
“The names of the National Nightingale Society memb
ers are still secret, even though some corrupt government officials have become aware of the organization.”
“Corrupt officials such as Dr. Xing?”
“Could be. Or others who have drawn his attention to them, attempting to frame them as ecoterrorists and a threat to national security and the economy.”
“Why wouldn’t Weiping collect the data himself? Why involve us?”
“Much stronger if the evidence comes from us. It would be harder to shine the spotlight on him and the NNS.”
“I wonder how they’ve kept their identity secret all this time.”
“By staying hidden. Mr. Weiping asked if we could delete this photo.” Craig put his finger on the delete button. “May I?”
I nodded, wishing I could have kept the photo for inspiration, but I understood the importance of getting rid of it.
“Which brings me to my next question. How would you feel about a trip to the Impenetrable Forest?”
“Uganda?”
He nodded. “I hear good things about Ugandans, despite glaring irregularities in their government. And I’m sure you will bond with the gorillas.”
“When do I leave?”
Craig grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Reunion
I knocked on Jon’s hotel room door, feeling way overdressed in my green raw silk. There was no time to find a more casual option—it was that or my blood-soaked cotton pants that the leeches destroyed, or my cloying nylon pants that reeked of elephant and sweat.
I smoothed the silk over my hips. Craig knew what he was doing. I didn’t look bad in his selection, despite it not being my style. And Jon would get a kick out of the irony. It seemed an appropriate surreal addition to what felt like a bizarre theater production that I had been an actor in over the last couple of weeks.
I was holding Jon’s letter in my hand. It consisted of one line: Will you forgive me? and then he had written down the address of his hotel and his room number and the time, seven o’clock.
When he opened the door, we both stood in silence, both of us full of words that wouldn’t come out. I looked beyond him to a romantic candlelit dinner set out on a table with red napery. Champagne sat in an ice bucket and the smell of roast duck was in the air. I tried not to let the scene intimidate me. I had completely forgotten the reference Nigel had made to what Jon had written at the end of his letter that I hadn’t had the chance to read. He had mentioned the word proposal. Could Jon have really tried to propose to me in his last letter? Was this dinner designed to be a proposal? I couldn’t let my mind go there. I wasn’t ready to think about such a prospect. Not now. Too much was at stake.
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