“Like Major Jenkins?” Dr. Nhari suggested.
“There are higher ranks to which an ambitious man can aspire than major,” Christopher said. “Promotions are undeniably made on the basis of qualification and merit, but a good word dropped here and there never hurt anyone. Wouldn’t you agree? A bad word, on the other hand.…”
“I’m not in the military,” Dr. Nhari said, “and I don’t know how Major Jenkins would respond to that theory. However, you did have a friend who was murdered, and Major Jenkins does appreciate sentiments like loyalty and friendship.”
Janet read through the double-talk. Christopher wanted to go, and he was going. He got everything he wanted, including her. Janet had wants of her own. She wanted a lover and a husband in one piece.
“I’ll see what Major Jenkins says,” Dr. Nhari promised, coming to his feet. “You’ll hear his decision shortly.” He bowed smartly in Janet’s direction and left.
“You’re angry,” Christopher said, and it wasn’t a question. Her feelings were clearly visible on her face.
“Don’t you dare tell me you don’t know why!”
“These poachers have to be stopped,” Christopher insisted. “I’ve seen what they’ve done, remember? I saw seven bloated elephants dead at the waterhole. I lost a friend because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I saw Melissa poisoned, her calf dead within a few feet of her. I can’t forget all of that; I can’t forget that I almost lost you beneath a stampeding herd of elephants. And you don’t understand why I want to make sure this is handled effectively?”
“I understand it,” Janet said, “but there are men out there who’ve killed animals and people, and they may kill you. That’s what upsets me.”
“I promise to keep out of the way of their bullets,” he said, making light of something in which Janet could see no humor. He was going. She would, too, if she were in his shoes. Christopher felt a sense of responsibility; he was not the sort of person to leave things entirely up to others. Knowing that, though, didn’t erase the fact that her man was going into a danger zone and might not come back. The poacher who killed the last elephant would wipe out millions of years of evolution, and the man who killed Christopher would wipe out Janet’s future. “I’m coming back,” he said. “I promise.”
How could he promise? No man knew his future. Anyway, it wasn’t his worthless promise that would make her let him go. His need to participate was a vital part of the man she loved, and she wouldn’t have him any other way. “You’d better come back to me,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist, laying her cheek against the hard smoothness of chest. His shirt was unbuttoned, and his skin was warm. One bullet could turn his flesh cold and lifeless. “I won’t forgive you if you don’t. Never!”
He kissed her. It was ended too briefly, interrupted by Dr. Nhari’s return. “Major Jenkins wants to welcome you aboard,” Dr. Nhari said.
“I’m delighted to be aboard,” Christopher said.
“We’re leaving immediately,” Dr. Nhari informed him. “Time is of the essence in these matters of surprise.”
Christopher left Janet with another brief kiss and a mental scrapbook of wonderful memories. It wasn’t enough, even if some people never got that much.
Major Jenkins was waiting outside with a wide smile and a friendly handshake. He looked like a military man, ramrod straight and ruggedly thin, somewhere in his late fifties. Craig was there, too, not looking pleased. Janet couldn’t blame him. It would have been a feather in his cap had he solved the problem before losing his command. On the other hand, Dr. Nhari was right: Craig had wasted too much time. Too many elephants had died, too many kept dying while Craig struggled helplessly for solutions. They all hoped the present plan would end the slaughter; Craig should chalk Major Jenkins’s success up against his own bruised ego. This was a one-time operation that had to work. Soldiers couldn’t be spared every day from more pressing duties, as Craig himself had explained to Janet some time ago.
Janet waved after them, and Dr. Nhari and Christopher waved back. Major Jenkins talked strategy with his aide-de-camp. Craig stared straight ahead. The driver steered the car toward the troop convoy regrouped at the military encampment. The three trucks in the parking lot remained where they were. The soldiers who had arrived in them stayed to make sure no one else left the surrounding area.
Janet didn’t know where Christopher was going or how long he would be gone. The Great Zimbabwe Reserve, even shrunk from its original nineteen-thousand square kilometers, had plenty of rugged terrain that made travel time-consuming. He could be gone all day and all night. He could be gone longer.
She had early-morning coffee in the restaurant. She saw no one she knew, and after coffee she went to her room. The yellow stone was still hidden away in her drawer, and after a moment’s thought, she went to the dresser and removed the gem. Whatever threat it offered would be nonexistent if Christopher didn’t come back. She’d rather have the problem. “Oh, Christopher, please don’t die!” she said. She put the stone back in the drawer. If he came back alive and well, they would work out their problems, including the one presented by the diamond—if that was what it proved to be.
She wanted to marry him. She wanted to bear his children. She wanted to love him into old age. Maybe a marriage contract was nothing more than a piece of paper, but she wanted that seal of approval. Her need to do the right thing was deep, and she didn’t consider herself or Christopher a sinner because of the wonderful nights they had already spent together. But she did want to make their commitment formal and legal. If he came back, she would have love, marriage and children. If he didn’t, she would have wonderful memories. She wanted more than just the memories.
She left the room and began walking from the hotel to the military encampment. The road was deserted except for two trucks parked in the roadway in an apparent attempt to prevent anyone from taking off in the airplane. She saw sentries on duty among the trees. None paid any attention to her. They wouldn’t unless she tried to break through their ranks. No one or no message was to get through until Major Jenkins sent word back that his mission was completed.
She crossed the field to the Acropolis. The craggy prominence of granite had been special to her since she’d climbed to the top to hear Christopher’s proposal of marriage. She had once preferred the geometric beauty of the Great Enclosure, laid out in the valley among green grass and shady trees—but no longer. The view from the top of the Acropolis was stupendous, and she hoped to see the military convoy and Christopher from there.
She walked through the ruins of the Outspan Gate and began the ascent of the Southeast Stairway, welcoming the physical strain of the climb. She welcomed anything that took her mind off what might happen to Christopher.
The pathway narrowed between huge granite boulders and man-made walls. She paused, looking out over the valley below. There was no sign of the convoy, no sign of Christopher.
She was alone with her thoughts. The sky was cloudless, the sun growing warmer. There wasn’t even the breath of a breeze. Everything was waiting. For what?
The stairway ended in the Covered Entrance. Janet stooped through the low passageway that penetrated the Turret Wall as far as the Royal Enclosure. She remembered things she had read about this place, using memory as a mental exercise to keep her thoughts off Christopher’s fate.
Household rubbish had been thrown over the sides of the cliff in the old days, and high piles of garbage had been formed. When partially excavated, one turned up cattle bones, broken pottery, copper bangles and the remains of five dogs. There were few wild animal bones. The inhabitants apparently relied more on domestic animals and plants for their food.
Several hut floors were stratified in the sides of the large pit in the Royal Enclosure. Fragments of a soapstone bowl, gold, glass beads, copper spearheads and the head of a soapstone bird had been found there. Several complete soapstone birds were found farther along the rim in the Ritual Enclosure. Janet headed there.
Much of Great Zimbabwe—its Conical Tower, its carved birds and its monoliths incised with geometrical designs—remained a mystery.
In the Ritual Enclosure, she turned from the man-made wall and climbed up through the natural rock. The ledge was called the Balcony. It faced out over the Ritual Enclosure and gave one of the best views from the Acropolis. She surveyed the exquisite interplay of rugged hills and tree-lined valleys stretched to the horizon. On the landscape below, the Great Enclosure was wondrous to behold. The adjoining military encampment, a toy-like miniature among milkwood trees, was insignificant in comparison. The dirt road, blocked by the parked trucks, was a dusty scar among faded greens, rusts, browns and golds.
The gunfire started, and it was closer than she suspected it would be. For a moment it sounded as it was coming from the camp below, but it was farther afield. The elevation of her vantage point gave a clarity to faraway sounds that was missing lower on the Acropolis.
She sat on the Balcony, her chin on her knees, her arms around her legs. With each burst of automatic weapon fire, she tried to place the source. Each time she failed. Except for a few startled birds, no wildlife moved to the accompaniment of that deadly background music.
It was warm on the Balcony, and it got hotter as the sun climbed higher in the sky. But Janet was chilly; her mind insisting that Christopher’s vital living body was in the path of each and every shot cracking in the distance.
Surely a day would come when she could look ahead to the next day, or next week, or next month—even next year—and see nothing standing in the way of her and Christopher’s happiness. There had been so many obstacles, one after another. Her need for vengeance had dissolved when her love for him took precedence over an oath to her dead father. Her doubts that Christopher loved her were erased completely by what had since happened between them. Their past wouldn’t interfere with their future, because she had admitted their childhood relationship. Then there was the poisoning of Melissa and Suzy, but he wasn’t responsible for that. There was the gold that could have been found at Great Zimbabwe but wasn’t. There was this battle over illegal ivory that had popped up out of nowhere.
But if he returned alive and well from it, that didn’t necessarily mean any happy-ever-after ending. There was the rock in the dresser drawer, waiting to plunge their relationship into new chaos if all else failed. There should be an end to it! Even Christopher admitted that the sixteen years they had spent apart should count for something—not to mention obstacles already surmounted.
The gunfire stopped. Had the soldiers and poachers all been killed? Civilians? Had Dr. Nhari and Christopher been shot in a fight over the ivory of animals already dead?
The beauty of the vista disturbed her, and not for the first time. It hid too much. Africa was crumbling into ruin, but no one would know that by looking at the landscape spread out before her. How deceptive those greens, rusts, browns, ochers and golds, the radiant blueness of the cloudless sky. Beneath it all, there was decay running rampant: animals dead and dying; men dead and dying; a way of life dead and dying. Behold the new Africa of farms, ranches, highways, power stations—hamburger and fried chicken stands just waiting to take over.
Janet left the Balcony, climbing down a pathway that ancient sentinels had taken to and from their posts. She walked through the Ritual Enclosure, where soapstone birds hinting of pagan rites had been found. She walked beside fortress walls so impressive that they were acclaimed as the work of Sabaeans, Phoenicians and Egyptians. This was the fabled Ophir of King Solomon: a city born of gold and left to die when gold deserted it. Death and ruin were natural parts of Africa.
She bent over and scuttled through the low tunnel from the Royal Enclosure to the Southeast Stairway, descending steps too narrow for her feet. She could fall and break her neck. Christopher could return from battle to find her dead on the mountainside! Because he was alive. He was coming back. Together they would solve whatever heaven or hell put in their path. Love had to conquer all. It was as simple as that, after all.
She listened for the returning convoy. With each step she tested the ground for vibrations. The last time she hadn’t recognized the sounds. She would now. She would welcome them. They would mean her lover was back.
Her climb and descent of the Acropolis had made her hot and sticky, so she showered when she got back to her room. She put on a blouse of light orange. The color set off her dark hair and radiant tan. She wanted to be beautiful for her man, and she was.
There was a knock at the door, and she hurried to answer it. Her heart beat faster. Her skin flushed attractively. She floated across the floor.
It wasn’t Christopher but a black soldier with a machine gun. His weapon wasn’t menacing, merely strapped over one shoulder. His presence drained away happy expectations, replacing them with sinister foreboding. “Mrs. Westover?” the soldier asked. He was young but looked older because of the strain evident in his face. “Captain Frazier would like to see you.”
She didn’t know Captain Frazier. “Yes, of course,” she said. The soldier had a Land Rover in the parking lot. “Who’s Captain Frazier?” she asked finally. The soldier frowned, not understanding her question. “I don’t remember him,” she said.
“He came with Major Jenkins,” the soldier explained.
“Of course,” she said, leaving it at that. Only the captain would say what he wanted with her, obviously.
They stopped at Craig’s tent. Captain Frazier, then, was Craig’s replacement. The familiarity of their meeting place didn’t put her any more at ease. The soldier motioned for her to wait. He left.
She didn’t expect the person who emerged from the tent. “Craig!” she exclaimed, her response automatic. If Craig was there, Christopher was back, too. They had left in the same car with Major Jenkins and Dr. Nhari. Where was Major Jenkins? Where was Dr. Nhari? “Where is Christopher?” she asked.
“Come inside, Janet,” he urged, taking her hand and leading her into a shade no less hot than the sunshine.
“Mrs. Westover,” Captain Frazier said in greeting. He was younger than Craig but not as good looking. His hair was red and thinning, and his complexion hadn’t stood up well beneath the tropical sun. His morning at the Great Zimbabwe encampment had left him painfully sunburned. The burn ointment he had slicked on his face gave his plain features a plastic gloss and did nothing for his discomfort. The pleasant-smelling goo attracted flies which he irritably flicked away with quick spastic movements of his left hand. “Do sit down,” he said moving a chair toward her.
“What’s this about?” Janet asked. She didn’t want to sit, but she did. She kept looking for Christopher, knowing he wasn’t there.
“I’ll let Captain Sylo explain,” Captain Frazier said.
“Christopher is wounded, Janet,” Craig obliged, wasting no more time.
“Wounded?” Janet responded. She had convinced herself Christopher was all right. Foolish! “Badly?” she asked, the word catching in her throat.
“I’m afraid so,” Craig said. The bottom dropped out of Janet’s world “He’s asking for you,” he added.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“I MUST go to him!”
“Yes, of course,” Craig agreed, coming to his feet. “That’s why I’m here. I’m going to fly you. The landing will be a little difficult, but I’ll manage.”
She didn’t care how difficult the landing would be. The sooner she got to Christopher the better. Christopher was her life. Anxious to get out of the tent, she collided with a soldier who was on his way in. He was embarrassed, mumbling apologies.
“Yes, Private Choma?” Captain Frazier asked irritably.
The only thing on Janet’s mind was getting to the man she loved. But, Craig paused.
“Word from Major Jenkins,” the private said. He handed the communiqué to Captain Frazier. As the captain unfolded the paper, Janet’s heart skipped a beat. She thought it was word about Christopher’s condition, and fear made her drop her eyes. She didn�
��t want to read bad news in Frazier’s face. It was only later that she recalled having noticed the curious fact that Craig had kept his hand on the gun in his holster from the moment Choma had appeared.
“Mission a success,” Captain Frazier read aloud. “Notify Salisbury.” Craig reached for the paper, and Captain Frazier reluctantly surrendered it. Craig scanned the communiqué and confirmed what Frazier had read. Instead of the look of relief that Janet had expected, she saw with astonishment that Craig’s features hardened. In an almost imperceptible motion, his hand drew out his gun.
“What’s the meaning of this, Sylo?” Frazier sputtered.
But Craig didn’t answer, his eyes riveted on Choma. “I wouldn’t do anything foolish if I were you, soldier,” he warned the young man.
“Where’s Christopher?” Janet demanded. She was beginning to panic. What was happening here made no sense at all. “You’ve got to get me to him. He may be dying.…”
“Christopher is fine,” Craig said coolly.
Janet was stunned. “But you said—”
“He’s fine!” he interrupted. “I lied when I said he was wounded.”
“You said Christopher was badly hurt!” she said in an accusing tone. She was confused. What did he mean, it was a lie?
“I need a plane,” Craig explained. “With Captain Frazier now in charge in the absence of Major Jenkins, I foresaw difficulty in getting it.”
What was he saying? Why was he acting so strangely?
“Is Christopher wounded or isn’t he?” Janet persisted. Christopher’s condition was the most important thing to her. Concern for him overrode her powers of reasoning.
“It was a ploy, Mrs. Westover,” Captain Frazier enlightened her, and suddenly a lot of jigsaw pieces began to fit into place. “He arrives on a mission of mercy, here to fly you off to the wounded man you love. I wave goodbye with my blessing.”
Love's Golden Spell Page 27
