The suite of offices was empty of clients, the phones silent, the fax machine just as quiet. The silence meant a death knell for Eberhart Safaris, and Logan Kelly knew it.
The stacks of bills, the blank registration forms, and the month’s payroll vouchers caused Logan Kelly, aka Justin Eberhart, to suck in his breath. For all intents and purposes, he was going to go belly up, and there wasn’t a damn thing he wanted to do about it. It was all part of his plan. Eight million dollars shot to hell. Actually, if you counted Danela’s five million, it was thirteen million shot to hell. He refused even to think about all the money Eberhart Safaris owed the banks. All he had left in the world was Kristine’s eight thousand dollars, plus the interest it had earned and a few hundred dollars in his personal checking account. Danela had less than a hundred dollars in her own account. Again, it was all going according to plan.
Even if a well-heeled tourist scheduled a safari, he wouldn’t be able to accommodate him. Oh, he could talk it up, make wild promises, take his money and skip out, but that was as far as he could go. One lone tourist simply wasn’t going to do it this time. He owed a fucking fortune to his guides, his directors, the hotels, the airlines, his personal servants, and the bank. If the heavens and the roof didn’t open up to deposit millions in the middle of his desk within the next forty-eight hours, he was down for the count.
The palatial home he had lived in with Danela these past years would just be a memory. The two Mercedes Benz, along with the land cruisers, would be reclaimed; these offices would be emptied, the furnishings sold, and he would be the laughingstock of East Africa. Like he really cared. He was set for life. It was time to move on.
It had been a grand venture in the beginning. But it was nothing like the dreams he’d had when he was that twelve-year-old kid. That was a dream, reality was something else. Instead of starting small, he’d shot for the moon and gone whole hog, hoping to put a dent in the competition’s business. He’d succeeded for the first year, with a profit margin unlike anything he’d expected. The second and third years were good too, even though he’d secretly funneled millions into his Swiss bank account. He’d gotten cocky, arrogant the fourth and fifth years, believing his own PR machine run by Danela. Even so, he’d still managed to funnel money out of the business during the worst of it. Workers, unused to his military style of doing things, quit in droves, often forcing him to cancel safaris. Travel agencies, afraid of his reputation, stopped booking tours during the sixth and seventh years. His head remained above water until three months ago, when his reputation got so bad, word went out on the wires that Eberhart Safaris was a joke run by a clown who didn’t care about his customers.
His lifelong dream was coming to an end. Eight fucking years down the drain. Thirteen million dollars pissed away on a dream that was now a nightmare. A smug look settled on his face. He was actually beginning to believe all this crap.
Then there was Danela.
The silence finally broke when a stunning redhead opened the door to the office. “I’m going shopping, Logan. There’s nothing to do here except stare at the telephone that isn’t ringing. Do you want me to bring you some lunch?”
“We don’t have any money for you to go shopping, Danela. Bring me some lunch from home.” Never in a million years did he believe he would ever hear himself say these words. Never, ever. A game was a game. There were always winners and losers if you knew how to play. He knew. Danela didn’t.
“Don’t tell me what to do, Logan. I said I was going shopping. You need to go to the bank to borrow money. You need to pay the creditors. Then you need to sit down and figure where it all went wrong and try to make it right. We’ve been at this for eight long years and there isn’t one thing we own outright. Are you listening to me, Logan? We spent thirteen million dollars plus what we borrowed from the banks, and we’re still in the red. You’re thinking about bailing out, aren’t you?”
“I’m thinking, but not about bailing out. I have some ideas,” he said vaguely.
“Maybe it’s time you shared some of those ideas with me.”
“Tonight over dinner. Go shopping but bring me some lunch.”
“Are you just going to sit here all day and think about the past? This is not what I signed on for, Logan. My five-million-dollar settlement is gone. I need to know what’s going to happen to us.”
Logan wanted to tell her there was no “us.” There was just him. In life, only the fittest survived. “Tonight over dinner,” he repeated. “Wear something sexy.”
“I’m not in a sexy mood, Logan. I’m in a bad mood. The kind of bad mood shopping isn’t going to help. By the way, the head of the motor pool just quit this morning. Before he quit, he let me know your safari cruisers were minus their distributor caps until you pay him and his men. He was rather ugly. You can deal with him from here on out.”
“I will,” Logan said shortly. He wished she would just leave. “Lock the door on your way out.”
“Lock it yourself,” Danela said smartly. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you. Your wife was the lucky one; she’s rid of you, and I’m stuck with you. I have a good mind to call her up and tell her what a lucky woman she is.”
Logan fought the urge to laugh in Danela’s face. “Go ahead. All she’ll do is profess undying love. Kristine will love me until the day she dies.” She’ll even forgive me for taking her money. “That’s the difference between you two. She’s a lady. You were a tramp with a good body who managed to snooker an old man’s family into buying you off to save themselves from scandal. Don’t make the mistake of threatening me again, Danela.”
“What are you going to do, Logan, whip out that shitty book you go by and read me Rule Twelve or is it Rule Twenty-one? Kiss my ass.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve already done that, and it wasn’t the enjoyable experience you said it would be. I thought you said you were leaving.”
“Go to hell, Logan.”
Logan opened his desk drawer. An open-ended Lufthansa first-class airline ticket to Washington, DC stared up at him. He’d bought it his first year in Africa, the same day he’d started funnelling money into his Swiss bank account. Each year he was careful to renew it. Just in case. In the bottom drawer he always kept locked, was a small flight bag with a change of clothes and his shaving gear, along with the bankbook in the amount of eight thousand dollars and a passport in the name of Justin Eberhart and one in the name of Logan Kelly. When he was ready, he could walk out of here in a heartbeat.
He’d always known things would come to this. It was okay. He had his ace in the hole named Kristine. Six weeks from now, Kristine would reach the half century mark and come into the bulk of her inheritance. If he wanted to, he could be on hand for that momentous occasion. Eight years wasn’t long enough for her to get over him, he told himself. Plus, Kristine was a one-man woman, something she always boasted about. Kristine would welcome him with open arms. If he returned to the United States. The possibility of that happening was getting stronger with each passing day.
If he played his cards right, he could return to the States just in time for Kristine’s fiftieth birthday. Just in time to inherit all that beautiful green money. Kristine was always a sharing person and when he showed her he hadn’t touched her eight thousand dollars, she would weep with joy.
Logan shifted his mental gears. He wondered if he was a grandfather yet. Where were the kids and what were they doing? They’d be less happy to see him than Kristine would, and no doubt they hated his guts. That was okay. Growing up they’d been a constant source of disappointment. They were probably off on their own and wouldn’t interfere with him or their mother, leaving him a wide-open field to work his magic.
When the phone rang fifteen minutes later, he almost didn’t answer it, thinking it was Danela asking what he wanted for lunch. His voice was gruff when he barked, “Eberhart Tours.”
Logan listened, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline when the voice on the other end of the line asked i
f he could handle a tour of twenty-four people in four days’ time. His mind raced as he calculated the money in his head. Talk about Divine Providence. Christ, he must be the luckiest guy in the world “Only if your people are prepared to rough it. All our tours have been booked solid for months,” he said urbanely. “Our deluxe tours are booked a year in advance.” He rifled through his desk to find the single sheet of paper with the list of travel agencies he’d dealt with in the past. Nowhere on the list was the name Alpine Travel. Hot damn. “Such short notice requires payment in full. You’ll need to wire the money to our bank here in Nairobi within twenty-four hours. Remember, we’re eight hours ahead of you. I’ll fax the registration forms for all your clients to sign. I’m assuming they have visas.”
The voice on the other end of the phone assured him that all the passports were in order, and she had personally walked them to the proper offices to get them stamped with the Kenyan and Tanzanian visas. “They’re middle-aged CPAs, all men, city dwellers,” she went on to say. Hesitantly, she asked, “What exactly does roughing it mean? There’s nothing in your brochure that mentions that kind of tour.”
“That’s because we rarely do it. Rough means tents, lots of riding, lots of walking, nourishing fresh food but nothing elaborate. We’ll provide the tents and sleeping bags. There won’t be any hot showers. I’ll need the flight information at the time you wire the monies to our bank. All the forms are in back of the brochure. Are your clients a package tour?”
“Yes, they are. They all seem to be amateur photographers.”
“There’s no way I can send out our travel bags for them to arrive in time. They’ll be handed out on arrival if that meets with your approval. One of our people will meet your clients at the airport. He’ll be carrying a placard and wearing a green Eberhart uniform.”
“Mr. Eberhart, could we briefly touch on the schedule?”
“Why don’t I have my secretary type it up and fax it to you, in say, ninety minutes or so. Phone calls are very expensive from here to the States. Will you still be in your office?”
“My office is in my home. That will be fine, Mr. Eberhart. I appreciate you accommodating my group. Let me give you my phone number as well as the fax number.”
Logan scribbled on a pad. “It’s been nice talking with you, Miss Joclyn.”
“Take good care of my people. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I just started the business, and this is my first major tour. I want everything to go perfectly.”
Logan looked down at the travel-agent list. That certainly explained everything. “I’m sure your group will have the time of their lives. I’ll be in touch if need be.”
Logan’s next call was to Danela. “Get back here as soon as you can and bring some lunch. We have a tour of twenty-four people arriving in three days, four if you go by Stateside time. We need to fax some things to the States as soon as possible. Of course they have visas. That was one of the first things I asked. They’ll be wiring the money into our account first thing in the morning. I explained it would be roughing it, and Miss Joclyn said that was okay with her group, who, by the way, are all male CPAs and everyone knows CPAs are the most boring professionals there are. Plus, they’re city people. I want you on this safari, Danela.”
“Oh, no. I did that once. You go. I don’t like the bush, and I’m not sleeping in a tent.”
“Then I’ll cancel. It’s that simple. Twenty-four people. Calculate the money in your head. It’s seventeen days out of your life. So you won’t be able to shop for a while. Think of what you can buy when you get back. You’re going!”
Logan squared his shoulders. Twenty-four times twelve grand a pop was a tidy little sum of money. Tomorrow he would pay two of the guides and give them a bonus. The head of the motor pool would replace the distributor caps on three of the land cruisers, and he was off to the races. The household staff could clean and air the sleeping bags and tents and lay in provisions. He could make it work if he put his mind to it. He could do anything if he put his mind to it.
It was midafternoon when Danela turned off the computer. “Okay, Logan, it’s done.”
“Read it to me, Danela.”
“The whole thing?”
“I want to make sure this goes right. First impressions are important. These people are plunking out twelve grand each for this safari. We’ll put them up the first night at the Nairobi Safari Club. I’ll go there personally tomorrow morning to pay for the night’s lodging. I’ll do the same thing and pay cash for the flight to Masai Mara National Reserve. From that point on, you’re roughing it. Now let’s hear it.”
Danela gritted her teeth. It never paid to argue with Logan because she always lost. “We go through customs. I tell them what a bustling city Nairobi is. I tell them Nairobi is in the heart of the Kenyan Highlands and mention that it is at an elevation of fifty-five hundred feet with warm sunny days and cool nights. I’ll point out the riotous colors of the plants along the street. This is a mistake. I feel it in every bone of my body. There’s no way you can pull this off. You’re up to something. What are you planning?”
Logan stared unblinkingly at the woman he’d spent the last eight years with. Once she’d been ravishingly beautiful. When he first met her, she looked like a young Rita Hayworth. Unfortunately for Danela, the African sun had not been kind to her. She still had the same voluptuous body he’d lusted after in the beginning of their relationship, but even that was losing its appeal. He hated the way her leathery skin felt next to his, hated the heavy, greasy makeup she wore. She still turned men’s heads, so that was a plus. She’d always been a quick study, and she knew the safari business as well as he did. What she did not have was a head for numbers of any kind. And at the moment, he didn’t much care for the calculating look in her eye. He didn’t trust her any farther than he could throw her. He had to tread carefully where she was concerned.
“As a matter of fact, I am up to something, as you put it. My mind has been racing since that call came through. It’s safe to say we’ve both learned from our mistakes. Sometimes God in His infinite wisdom gives us a second chance. Alpine Travel is our second chance. If we pull this off and if things go smoothly, I want us to get married when you get back.”
Danela sniffed, and her eyes lost a little of their wariness. “How can we get married? You aren’t divorced. Don’t think I’m going to go through one of those tribal weddings.”
“Kristine had me declared legally dead after seven years. I know that for a fact,” he lied smoothly. “She’s married again.”
“How do you know that, Logan? You never said a thing about any of that to me.”
“That’s because it was my private business. I have never invaded your privacy. I never asked you for details of your life. I expected the same from you. We had a deal, Danela, in case you forgot.”
“How do I know you aren’t lying?” Danela asked, suspicion ringing in her voice.
“I guess you’ll just have to trust me. If you like, we can apply for a marriage license before you leave on safari. It will give you something to look forward to while you’re out there with the group. It’s time for us to get married. I don’t like living in sin,” Logan said virtuously.
“I don’t have a wedding dress. Where in the hell am I going to get a wedding dress?”
Logan forced patience into his voice. “There are any number of places where you can get a wedding dress. However, knowing your shopping history, how does this sound? When you get back, you go to England, to Harrods. I want you to be happy. You can shop to your heart’s content. We’ll be rolling in money. I’ve been running all of this over and over in my mind. I’m going to stay in touch with Alpine Travel, by phone because that’s more personal. I’m sure the lady knows others who are just starting out with their own businesses. I’ll offer some cut rates, make a few deals, and if things work out, we’ll climb back to the top. I can do it, Danela, but I need your help. I want you on that safari, and I want you to charm those number cru
nchers right out of their jockeys. Wear those skintight flight suits you have. I want every one of those guys to come back with a hard-on. I want them to remember you first, Africa second. Tell me we’re in this together, Danela.”
“Swear on my life, Logan, that I can go to England and Harrods? If you swear, I’ll do it. I also want to see the ticket before we leave.”
“Not a problem. I’ll pick it up first thing in the morning. How much money do you think you’ll need?”
Danela’s mind raced. “At least twenty-five thousand,” she said smartly.
“You got it.”
“All right. We have a deal. Do you still want me to wear something sexy tonight?”
“Damn right. Let’s have two ceremonies. One here in town and one in the Serengeti.”
“Okay. It’s getting late. You better fax this itinerary off now.”
“Are you sure you covered everything?”
“Game viewing, bird-watching, the salt-lick watering holes, and hopefully sightings of the elusive bongo and leopard. I did say that might not happen. I covered our asses on that one. They’ll love Amboseli. Seeing Mount Kilimanjaro will take the sting away if we can’t see any bongo or leopards. Two game runs while we’re there. I think they will be stunned at the Masai tribesmen. I have to wonder though how they’ll react to the tribe when they see them draw blood from a cow’s jugular vein and mix it with milk. We might lose a few for a day or so. Not to mention the huts constructed of cow dung. I hate that part, Logan, I really do. I’m always sick for two days afterward.”
“You’ll get over it. The name of the game here is seeing everything with an expert such as yourself explaining the customs. They want to take home memories. You are going to give them those memories to take home. We can do this, Danela, if we work together. Think about it, honey, this morning we were down for the count. In a few hours’ time our lives have turned around. We’ve booked a safari, you’re going to London to shop, and we’re finally getting married.”
Celebration Page 20
