Love's Golden Spell

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Love's Golden Spell Page 24

by William Maltese


  “You’ve been a great help in monitoring the team’s itineraries,” Craig complimented her. “We haven’t had any mishap like Spencer’s since you started.” Paul Spencer, the member of the team who had been wounded by the poachers, had died shortly after Craig’s unsuccessful attempt to evacuate the rest of the V.H.A.M. team from the area. “Just keep that up, and I’ll do my best to keep your fiancé alive and well for his wedding.”

  Janet felt a chill overcome her at the thought that the life of the man she loved might be threatened, too.

  They lapsed into a silence that remained unbroken until they were flagged down at the hotel by a soldier. Craig was handed a clipboard, and he scanned the attached information sheet before turning an accusing eye on Janet. “So where in the hell is your lover boy today?” he asked. His belligerent tone caught her off guard. “The south ten section, wasn’t it?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she affirmed.

  “Then why did he take the road to Fort Victoria this morning?” Craig asked, returning the clipboard to the soldier and dismissing him with a curt nod. “Van Hoon passed through the two checkpoints on the Fort Victoria road, and he hasn’t checked back through.” Janet didn’t have the slightest idea why. As far as she knew, Christopher was scheduled to examine three old mine sites in the south ten. “I have my men patrolling a section of reserve to protect a man who isn’t even there!” Craig shouted.

  “Don’t forget Carl and Jacob,” Janet reminded him. Carl Mason and Jacob Phillips were the two remaining members of the V.H.A.M. team. Both were supposed to be in the south ten at the moment. That didn’t mean they were—any more than it had meant that Christopher was.

  “It’s vital that I know where everyone is at every moment of every day,” Craig insisted. “You tell Mr. Van Hoon that for me when he turns up, if he turns up. And remind him about what happened to Spencer.” He left Janet in the parking lot, the tires of his Land Rover squealing as he pulled away.

  The soldier returned with his clipboard. “Is Captain Sylo returning to headquarters?” he asked. He was in his twenties; blond-haired and blue-eyed. Janet sometimes saw him working on the hotel switchboard.

  “He didn’t say,” Janet said, “but he was headed in that direction.”

  “Right,” the young soldier said and made a smart about-face.

  “Anything the matter?” she called after. The soldier wouldn’t tell her even if there was. She was a civilian with no need to know.

  “No trouble,” the young man answered over his shoulder. “We got a call that Mr. Van Hoon just checked back through Checkpoint Alpha.”

  “Oh,” Janet said noncommittally. She sat on one of the chairs on the hotel veranda, waiting for Christopher. Craig wasn’t the only one who was curious about the mix-up in Christopher’s filed itinerary.

  Checkpoint Alpha was the first military blockade of two on the highway from Fort Victoria. It was followed, a few miles later, by Checkpoint Bravo. It took a car half an hour to reach the hotel from Alpha. Janet had time to think.

  She had taken it for granted that Christopher would be in the south ten that day. He knew that Janet reported any changes to Craig. By doing so, she saved Christopher and his men a lot of last-minute paperwork. Since he hadn’t mentioned the change to Fort Victoria, his reason for going there must have come up after he’d left her that morning…or he hadn’t wanted her to know he was going in the first place.

  If he had come across an ore sample that looked too promising to wait for the evening plane, he would have shipped it off immediately on a morning flight. That was one explanation Janet didn’t want to be true. A promising sample could be disastrous to hers and Christopher’s relationship. She wouldn’t love him any the less, but a gold discovery would make this situation too similar to what had happened at Lackland. She wasn’t up to seeing more wildlife bite the dust because of profits sought by Van Hoon Afrikaner Minerals. A gold rush to Great Zimbabwe would endanger what little there was left of the reserve.

  Christopher’s Land Rover pulled into the hotel parking lot and stopped. Janet went to meet him. “Hi,” he said, and gave her a big kiss. He didn’t sound or act as though he had set the ball rolling that would shatter all their chances for a happy future.

  “Your little side trip to Fort Victoria has Craig in a snit,” Janet informed him. There was no point in beating around the bush.

  “His men at the checkpoints got back to him, did they?” Christopher said, taking her arm and walking with her to the veranda. They sat opposite each other at a small table. “I figured they would,” he said. “This is why I didn’t check in with him this morning.”

  “I could have told him about the change,” Janet said, sounding hurt, “but you didn’t mention it to me, either.”

  “That’s because I made my decision after I left you,” Christopher explained. “Anyway, I don’t know why the captain is upset. He wasn’t expecting me to get into trouble in Fort Victoria, was he?”

  “He put some men in the south ten to look after you, and you weren’t there to be looked after.”

  “Carl and Jacob were there to use those services,” Christopher pointed out. “I’m not the only one who deserves protection.”

  “Which I mentioned to him,” Janet said. “I hope you have better luck pacifying him than I did. Meanwhile, tell me what you expect from your latest find.”

  “What latest find?” he asked. He sounded innocent. Probably he wanted to avoid a confrontation until the assay reports confirmed he’d found pay dirt.

  “You’ve found an ore sample that looks good, right?” she said. There was a lump building in her throat. She’d been expecting this. Somehow the scale had been tipped too far on the side of happiness. Something had to be done to put things back into balance.

  “I’d be happy to hear how you came to that conclusion,” Christopher said.

  “You headed off this morning to get ore samples,” Janet said obligingly. “Suddenly you’re heading for Fort Victoria. Adding one and one tells me you found something that looked good and couldn’t wait to ship it off on the evening plane.”

  “Well, you’ve figured all wrong, lady,” he said. “Remind me to do the bookkeeping in our family, since you can’t add two and two. Donald Geiger called, and I went to meet him. You remember Donald, don’t you?” She remembered. “You met him at Lionspride,” he added. Donald was the man with the diamond. He hadn’t seen her at her best.

  “Oh,” she said. She didn’t know where that left her.

  “Actually, Donald did bring news about one ore sample we’d already sent to Salisbury.”

  It did have something to do with gold. Janet’s heart sank. She wanted to return to her Cinderella existence and forget that the clock struck midnight every time and ended the ball. “What about the ore sample?” she asked. She dreaded his answer.

  “I can see the black picture you’re painting,” Christopher said, shaking his head. “It’s not that way at all. There was a mix-up, and one ore batch got thrown out before it was tested. That’s all. The problem merely requires a second sample. The mine site is just up the road a piece.”

  “Mr. Geiger came all this way from Johannesburg to tell you that?” Janet said disbelievingly.

  “No,” Christopher admitted. “That was just news he brought along to save the company the cost of another phone call.”

  “I see,” Janet said. She was as much in the dark as ever.

  “You haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen this,” he said. He reached into the pocket of his bush jacket and pulled out a small black box. He held it out to her. “Donald was hand-delivering this.”

  “What is it?” she asked. Her hand trembled. She knew what it looked like.

  “I’ll give you a hint,” he said. His smile was wide attractive. “What does an engaged lady usually have that you don’t?” She opened the box and gasped. “No, Janet, it’s not a yellow topaz!” he said with a laugh. She had once wrongly identified the same stone when she had seen
it rolled uncut onto black velvet at Lionspride. The diamond was cut now. It flashed rainbow sparks from a heart-shaped surface that was the color of warm summer sunshine.

  “It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. That was the understatement of the year. Only the stronger attraction of Christopher’s eyes could pull her gaze away from the gorgeous display of color reflecting from the faceted surface.

  “Yes, it did turn out nicely,” Christopher unabashedly boasted. “What’s the point of my owning a diamond mine if I can’t pick up a bauble now and again when the occasion warrants it? I thought this stone particularly appropriate; since it came into my life at the exact moment you came back to Lionspride.” He reached for the box, and she surrendered it to him. Their fingers touched in the exchange, and she felt the familiar electricity that always sparked between them. “It’s a ring, or haven’t you noticed?” he chided, freeing it from its nesting of plush velvet. The stone caught more light and was transformed into a miniature sun. “It’s your engagement ring.”

  “I’d be afraid to wear it,” she said. “It must be worth a fortune.”

  “It is, but it’s insured,” he said casually. Putting the box down, he reached for her hand and slipped the ring on her finger. “It was meant from its beginning to be worn by you,” he said gallantly. “It was fired to crystal in the forges of the earth for just this very moment.”

  “Oh, Christopher,” she said, “I’m so very happy.” He used the tip of his forefinger to catch the first of her tears, then lift the drop to his lips and kiss away its moisture. She cupped his hands in hers, resting her wet cheek against his fingers. “Will we pay for such moments of exquisite joy?” she asked. She had once had a whole summer of happiness, and look what price she’d paid for that. “Must there be more heartache and sorrow to balance the scales?”

  “Of course not!” he said. His head was bowed so that he spoke softly into her hair. “Besides, haven’t we suffered enough? Sixteen years apart should be credit enough on anyone’s balance sheet.”

  “I do so love you,” she said, looking up. His face was close to hers, and she couldn’t believe any man could be so handsome.

  “Let’s get married very soon,” he said, gently wiping her cheeks free of tears with the back of his hand. “I’m too selfish in my old age to wait much longer. “Luckily,” he added, “we’re almost finished here. If there’s no gold in the south ten that wraps it up—unless, of course, some mix-up should occur that makes it necessary to go back for more seconds.”

  Surely the fates wouldn’t be so cruel as to turn up a major gold find at this late date! She and Christopher had come so far. They didn’t deserve that final obstacle. “Speaking of second samples,” he said, “why don’t I take care of the one Salisbury wants now? The site isn’t far.”

  “Now?” she echoed. She didn’t want him to leave. She wanted him with her forever. She feared the gold that he might find would turn the area into an industrial wasteland like the one she’d seen at the Van Hoon Deep Levels Mine. The expansion of farm and ranchland had destroyed most of the original Great Zimbabwe Reserve. Not even the smaller animals would survive once Van Hoon Afrikaner Minerals arrived in force.

  But leaving things unfinished wouldn’t solve anything, either. This was an issue they would have to come to terms with in their life together—starting now. If the land was exploitable, someone would exploit it; that was the way of things. It was ridiculous to turn the advantage over to an even less caring competitor. “We’ll have to tell Craig where you’re going,” she said. She felt safer when he knew where they all were.

  “Yes, we’ll tell Craig,” he assured her.

  Craig wasn’t in his tent, though. “There was a report of unauthorized personnel on the reserve about here,” Lieutenant Walkford said, pointing to the map on Craig’s desk. The lieutenant had seen a lot of African sun in his twenty-five years. His face was a deep chestnut shade, the lightness of his pale blue eyes somehow out of place in all that tan. “Captain Sylo took a few of the troop out to take a look.”

  “I have to take another ore sample from a dig located here,” Christopher said, pointing to the locale for the lieutenant. “It’s close to camp, and I foresee no problems, but Captain Sylo insists I keep him posted on my movements. I don’t need to wait until he gets back, do I?”

  “I don’t see why,” Lieutenant Walkford agreed. “There’s been no poaching activity in that area for quite some time, and it’s too close to our camp for even those brazen bastards to try anything.”

  “Thanks,” Christopher said. Taking Janet’s hand, he led her into the sunlight. He asked her if she wanted to go with him, and she said no. She’d gone on a couple of his ore-gathering trips, and she’d been in his way each time. He scrambled over rocks and through underbrush and never complained about giving her a hand, but she felt she was a chain dragging along behind him.

  He returned her to the hotel and kissed her goodbye. She went to the veranda. The hotel staff was out of sight, doing assigned chores. The V.H.A.M. team was in the south ten and wouldn’t be back until nightfall. The activities of the military focused around their tent community near the Great Enclosure. Christopher was looking for gold.

  She was alone and suddenly uneasy. She intuitively sensed something was wrong and nervously glanced down at her engagement ring. It was worth a fortune. Poachers who killed helpless animals for profit wouldn’t think twice about killing a woman and snatching up a king’s ransom that could be carried away in a pants pocket. She twisted her ring on her finger, palming the crystal. So much fire inside a stone should burn, but it was cool to the touch.

  The danger had something to do with what Lieutenant Walkford had done or said—or hadn’t done or said. But what? He had pointed to one spot on the map, showing where Craig had gone. Christopher had pointed to another spot, indicating the ancient mine site. The two spots were miles apart, and it was those miles of separation that bothered her. Whenever the poachers struck, they did so well away from existing patrols.

  She was being silly. There were no reports of elephants where Christopher was going. If a herd was there, any poachers’ gunfire would send Lieutenant Walkford and his men on the run. It took time to remove tusks from an elephant, which were, after all, well-anchored teeth.

  Yet seven elephants had been mowed down at a waterhole not much farther from camp than Christopher’s destination. Poachers had removed fourteen tusks and made away with them, no one the wiser until a swirl of vultures betrayed the deed. How far did the sound of machine-gun fire travel, muted by shrubbery, hills and distance, before it faded to nothing or arrived distorted beyond recognition?

  She walked to the Land Rover in the parking lot. Christopher left it for her whenever he was in the field. Everything she needed was within walking distance, but riding was convenient and comfortable once the summer sun began its daily baking of the landscape, and she was used to taking a car out now and then. She got in and sat behind the wheel. Lieutenant Walkford would laugh at her intuition. He wouldn’t follow Christopher on the basis of her gut feeling.

  She started the Land Rover and eased it out of the parking lot. Janet to the rescue. How ludicrous! One woman against how many guns? She didn’t even own a gun. She hated them. But she couldn’t sit and do nothing. Something inside her demanded action. The man she loved was in possible danger. She knew that, whether Lieutenant Walkford could be convinced or not.

  She knew the route. She had traveled it often in her searches for Melissa and Suzy. The mine site was on an outcrop she and Craig had seen while watching the rhinos graze that morning.

  Turning off the dirt road, she headed across country. The African sky was dark blue and cloudless. Shrubs and tall acacias seemed to brush up against it, and wavy lines of heat seemed to distort the distant horizons. There was no sound except the rattle of the Land Rover across rough terrain, stirring up a feeble breeze as it cut through the stagnant air. Plants, green when she had arrived at Great Zimbabwe, were fading fast to b
rowns, rusts and pale golds during these increasingly hot days. There was no wildlife to be seen. There was no Christopher to be seen. His dust trail had settled without a trace.

  Her panic gradually faded, giving way to reason. Her initial impulse seemed foolish now. She had rushed off half-cocked.

  Janet braked to a stop, and dust settled like gold flour on the windshield and dashboard. She was surprised at how far she had driven. One edge of the mined outcrop was visible through the trees. She had to decide whether to go forward or back.

  The decision was made for her by the loud gunshot blasts she heard, followed by the flutter of frightened birds airborne from nearby trees. “Christopher!”

  It seemed as if her aching heart screamed her verbal protest.

  * * * * * * *

  AFTER THE GUNSHOTS came absolute silence. It was easy to imagine no shots had been fired at all, but Janet knew differently. Christopher was lying dead somewhere, a meal for the vultures. Or he was badly wounded. Either way, she had to find him. She had no medical supplies. If he’d fallen outside his Land Rover, she didn’t have the strength to lug his dead weight any great distance. However, those difficulties made no difference. She had to do something, and going for Lieutenant Walkford would waste time. Anyway, the lieutenant would have heard the gunfire. He’d be on his way.

  She turned the Land Rover in the direction of the shots—at least she thought it was the direction. It was hard to tell. Distance distorted. Rocky outcrops bounced sounds, even amplified them. The shots seemed to have originated from close by, but they could have come from the next valley or the next ridge.

  It could have been a poacher downing an elephant. Two shots were more than enough. Vincent Van Hoon had considered his marksmanship off whenever it took him more than one shot to down any animal. One elephant could be stripped of its ivory before Lieutenant Walkford arrived to investigate—except that Great Zimbabwe poachers seldom bothered with just one elephant. They worked on the assembly-line principle, shooting them five or more at a time. It might be an independent operator, a native out to supplement his low income. There were always a few of them. Whoever it might have been, however, Janet’s thoughts were back on Christopher and what one of those bullets might have done to him.

 

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