by Carol Gregor
Cal looked at her. 'Why, I believe you're right,' he muttered, over the roar of the lorry.
'Of course I'm right!' His gaze, though dark, was immensely comforting, and she realised suddenly that it was because of him, and his steadfast presence beside her, that she had no fear.
Cal raised his voice and talked at length to the man, who eventually lowered his gun with a grunt.
'What's that language? What did you say?'
'What?'
The grinding of gears cancelled out all other noise. He bent his head and she shouted her questions again, her lips against his ear.
'It's Swahili.'
'And what did you say.'
His eyes glinted at her. 'A little white lie.'
'What sort of white lie?'
He hesitated. Then he bent his head towards hers. 'I told him my wife was expecting a child, and that she was frightened the bumping would damage the baby. That was why she cried out.'
She almost laughed. 'I certainly feel sick enough.'
He moved stiffly and put his arm around her. 'Here, we'd better give the story some credibility.'
His embrace cushioned the worst of the bumps and comforted her with human warmth.
'Oh, that's better.'
'Even so, I'd cut down on the wisecracks if I were you. I doubt if they intend to shoot us, but I wouldn't say these boys are the most safety-conscious marksmen around.'
'Who are they, anyway?'
The roar of the ancient engine was terrible. He could not hear her.
'What?'
'Who are they --? Oh, never mind!' She shrugged at Cal, then leaned back against him, defeated.
To her amazement the endless jolting must have hypnotised her into sleep, because when she opened her eyes the lorry was slowing to a halt and the sky was darkening. She straightened her head up from where it had been resting against Cal's shoulder.
'Where are we? What's happening?'
'Shush. Just wait and see.'
The lorry bumped to a merciful halt and the men jumped out and signalled to them to follow. Cal leapt down with agility, but she was stiff from sleep and fell awkwardly into his arms as he turned to help her.
The familiar male smell of him washed over her as he caught her up, and she grimaced at the irony of their sudden, enforced togetherness after their painful conflict that morning.
Yet this morning could have been a lifetime away, she thought, and Cal's proximity now no longer meant desperate desire, but strength and warmth and hope.
'OK now?'
'Yes, just pins and needles.'
'You're doing fine.'
His approval warmed her.
'Better than at word processing, anyway.'
She saw the gleam of his teeth as he grinned at her resilience, and was glad she had managed to sound perky, even though she did not feel it. Cold and hunger were beginning to sap her spirit, but she did not want Cal to see. She knew he had enough to handle without needing to worry about his unwanted girl companion having a nervous collapse at his side.
She could see in the rapidly darkening sunset that they were still way out in the middle of the deserted bush. The place where they had stopped was simply a ramshackle camp with two tattered canvas tents and a litter of empty bottles and cans.
'Not too hot on housekeeping,' she observed, wrinkling her nose. 'Or manners,' she added, as a gun was poked in her back and she was pushed towards one of the two tents.
Cal was pushed in after her, and the flaps pulled down so that they were sitting in a stifling blackness.
There was a silence.
'Wildlife photography,' she snorted disparagingly, after a time. 'I suppose this is the "associated game park activity"!'
'Wait.'
She heard a tiny sawing sound and then a fragment of light and air entered the tent.
'Swiss army knife,' Cal explained. 'It was in my shorts pocket. Like your father, I never travel without one.'
She could see his profile now, dark and strong, as he surveyed the scene through the tiny spy-hole he had made.
'Aren't you going to tell me who they are?'
'Shush. I'm thinking.'
'Oh!' She eyed him savagely. 'You've had hours to do that.'
'I didn't know where they were taking us, then.'
'And you do now. So do I. The middle of nowhere.'
'There's six of them altogether,' he said, looking out.
'Great. You take the left-hand three, I'll take the right --'
'Frankie, please --'
'Well, what do you want me to do? Sit down and wail? I could easily, you know.' Her voice rose with a waver. The thick darkness of the tent was far more oppressive than being in the lorry, and the hopelessness of their situation was beginning to overwhelm her.
The silence told her he was weighing up whether to relent or not.
'It would just help me,' she said tersely, !to know why we're here. At the moment it makes no sense at all.'
'All right. These men are poachers. If they are who I think they are, they've been ravaging this area for years. There's a high price on their heads.' His words rattled out like machine-gun fire. 'I had a tip-off that they were about to mount a major operation in an area near where we were camping. I was hoping to go out and catch them at their tricks. That's why I was going to put you in the Mana Lodge for a couple of nights. But they got to me before I got to them.'
'Ivory poachers?'
'Mainly. But anything else, too, that gets in their path.'
'Ugh.' Frankie shook her head. 'But how did they know about you?'
'I guess my informant decided that a two-way tip-off was more profitable than a one-way one. . .'
'And now what?' The whites of her eyes showed in the darkness.
'I don't know exactly. But I doubt if they'd do anything really drastic. They're shrewd enough to realise what the consequences would be. My hunch is they want to get me out of the area, and to scare the living daylights out of me at the same time so that I won't come back another day.'
'What about the Land Rover? And your cameras?'
'I don't know. Ah --' He bent down and peered at the hole. 'Here's the Land Rover, at any rate. Good.' He looked back at her. 'If their leader's here, these men are less likely to get any silly notions --'
'About --?'
'About anything. Me—or you.'
'Oh.' Cal heard the sudden jolt of fear in Frankie's voice.
'I won't let them lay a finger an you!'
'There's six of them --'
'Then it's time for brain, not brawn.' He stood up.
'Where are you going?' she cried sharply.
'To parley. While it's still light enough to read their expressions. Don't worry, I'll be back.'
A long time later he returned, his breath smelling of whisky.
'Just popped out for a drink?'
'I'm bushed, Frankie. Cut the crummy jokes.'
She could hear from the strain in his voice that it was no time for the kind of brittle humour she was using to keep her spirits up. She fell silent.
'I've been talking. Bartering.'
'What for?'
'Our freedom. I wouldn't say it was the greatest deal ever struck, but it was the best I could do. In exchange for the Land Rover, all my camera equipment, and my solemn word that we will keep silent about ever having seen this gang, we will get driven out of here tomorrow morning and dumped somewhere within striking distance of a road.'
'Oh.' She contemplated what he had said. 'Well, at least if we're near a road --'
'I'm afraid a road round here means any sandy track that might see one vehicle a year.'
'Ah.'
'It doesn't look good, does it?'
'No.'
He sighed heavily. 'I'm sorry. I should never have got you into this mess.'
'No! I'm the one who should be sorry—sorry you've got to worry about me, as well as yourself. . .'
'You're doing wonderfully,' he said quietly. 'Better than I would
ever have imagined. I'd take my hat off to you, if I had one.' For a moment they eyed each other silently in the darkness. 'Anyway,' he went on briskly, 'it could work out better than it looks, if things go according to plan. I sealed the deal with a couple of bottles of Scotch I had tucked away under the back seat of the Land Rover, and if my hunch is correct they'll all be totally blotto by midnight.'
'You mean we could get away then?'
'Uh-uh.' He shook his head. 'We wouldn't get very far in the dark. We'd probably drive in a circle and end up back here.'
'Anyway --' Frankie's spirits sank '—they've got the Land Rover keys.'
'Had the keys.' There was a chink of metal. 'While I was groping around inside for the whisky, in the dark, I managed to get hold of the set of house-keys that were in my jacket-pocket. The lad guarding me wasn't very bright. I locked the door with the proper keys, then handed him the other set. He didn't seem to notice any difference. So he's now the proud owner of the front-door key to Number Five, Regency Place, London, and—as far as I can remember—a room key to the Majestic Hotel, Singapore!'
'I can't see him very much at home there,' Frankie said, remembering the gloomy grey room overlooking the park.
'The Majestic?'
'No. Number Five, Regency Place.'
'Well, that would make two of us.'
'But it's your home!'
'House. More of an office than a home. I give Elaine a pretty free hand to indulge her taste for opulent gloom.'
'And don't you care?'
'I'm never there. And when I am, I'm either too busy or too dog-tired to notice.'
She thought about that.
'Cal?'
'Yes?'
Unconsciously they were both talking in low, intimate voices. 'I don't understand you. Why you live like you do. Why you keep putting yourself on the line like this. You must get to the end of your tether?'
'Of course I do. I'm only human, like everyone else.' He fell silent. 'As to the rest of it, I could answer that in a lot of ways. On good days I'd tell you I enjoy it. On bad --'
'What?'
'I don't know, I'd probably say it's just a habit.'
'Anyway,' she said, following her own thoughts, 'I suppose it has its advantages.'
'What do you mean?'
'Well, it's quite a convenient lifestyle in some ways, isn't it? If anything gets too tough, or too close, or too permanent, you just pack your bags and move on.' Her voice twisted with a bitterness that surprised her. 'Mike was the same. He hated the kind of everyday responsibilities other people took for granted. He loved buying me presents, but he never once bought me a birthday present. It was just too much effort to remember the date, to go out and buy something in time, to wrap it up and post it off to me.'
'That's as may be, but I'm not Mike.' Cal's voice sharpened in response to her tone. 'And I really don't want to be blamed for his parental inadequacies. After all, I don't have anyone back home I have to feel responsible for.'
'And never will,' she said flatly.
So that was the source of her bitterness, she realised suddenly. The certain knowledge that she would never get close to Cal—that no one would. He was a born and bred loner, tough and self-sufficient, and would always stay that way.
'I don't know about that. I'm not a clairvoyant. Anyway,' his tone lightened, 'you forget, as far as our dear custodians are concerned, I already have a wife and family in tow.'
'Oh, yes. My latest role in a long line of starring parts --' Frankie grimaced as she spoke, but he put up a warning hand.
'Don't start that all over again. I said it for your own protection. According to their beliefs, as a pregnant wife you're due some respect. As a single woman travelling unchaperoned in the bush with a man you're little better than a bar girl in their eyes.'
'I wasn't going to argue. I understood why you said it.' She closed her eyes. What would it be like to be Cal's wife, expecting his child? It was unimaginable. He was so cold and remote. Yet at the same time she felt warmed and reassured by his presence. He radiated such strength that she only had to glance at him to feel her fear die down in the face of his calm resourcefulness.
A burst of raucous laughter from the camp-fire made them both jump. 'It seems to be working,' said Cal, peering out. 'Our guard's gone to join the merry band.'
'Thank goodness!'
'I'll rest easier when they've drunk themselves to a standstill. Come here.'
'What?' For a moment she thought she was hearing things.
'We ought to get some sleep if we're to have our wits about us later,' he explained. 'And I want you away from the doors on this side of me. That way, if anyone decides to come visiting, they'll have to contend with me first.'
'Oh, I see.'
Gingerly she stepped over him and lay down on the groundsheet. It felt clammy beneath her bare legs and arms, and she shivered. 'They might have given us blankets.'
'And food,' he pointed out, 'and water. And soap and towels. But unfortunately they're not the type. Thank goodness we're only staying in this hotel for one night.'
She giggled. 'You really don't mind too much, do you? It's just another day in your life.'
'I wouldn't say you're exactly falling to pieces, either. I'd guess there's a little bit of the O'Shea in you that half enjoys a touch of drama and excitement.'
'A touch, maybe, but not this much. If I let myself dwell on the fix we're in, then I'm absolutely petrified. I can only cope as long as I don't think.'
'Then sleep is obviously the best solution.' She heard him stretch out at her back, then groan. 'I see what you mean. It's freezing.'
She hugged herself with her arms, but it made no difference. She heard him move irritably, this way and that. They were so close that she could feel a faint heat from his body, and their proximity made her catch her breath. Desire had died away in the face of danger and disaster, but now its dull, insistent tattoo began to drum dimly again in her veins.
How well she knew him, she thought. They had been together night and day for days, and she had absorbed his every mood and expression. She knew the humped outline of his sleeping figure at night, and the way he stooped and peered into the Land Rover's mirror to shave in the morning. She knew the strong lines of his limbs, and the spring of the dark hair that covered them. She knew how his hair curved into his neck, and how his eyes could glint dangerously with anger and desire.
Yet she knew nothing about him, nothing at all. She could not begin to guess at his thoughts, as he lay there beside her. All she knew was that no man had ever enthralled her and enraged her as he did; no man had ever disturbed her so much, yet given her so much peace.
'Cal?' Her thoughts turned restlessly.
'Yes.'
'How will we be sure to wake up in time?'
'Don't worry. That's not a problem. Getting to sleep, on the other hand, might be --'
'I know.' Her teeth chattered. She heard him sigh.
Then he said, 'I guess you'd better come here,' and his hand was on her arm, easing her back into the curve of his body. The moment he did so, it seemed the only possible thing to do. She curled unresisting into his warmth like a cat by the fire. She could feel his legs, hips, chest against hers, and ,his arms went firmly around her, holding her close.
'Since you're my wife --' he murmured against her neck, and her blood pounded at the softness of his breath against her ear. But he did not allow his lips to brush her neck, or his hands to stroke her arms, and within minutes, it seemed to her, he was soundly asleep.
Much, much later she, too, finally managed to force her restless body into a sleep which, surprisingly, was broken only once when Cal shifted abruptly, next to her. She woke up and knew immediately why. In sleep, his hand had strayed to cup her breast and his body had hardened with repressed desire until, waking, he had pulled himself sharply away from her. She felt the lonely ache he had aroused in her and longed to turn into his arms and feel the force of his embrace again. But she willed herself no
t to. Just as he had shown her dignity and restraint under these most difficult circumstances, so she, too, struggled to give him the space and privacy that he so clearly wanted. And eventually, despite her troubled thoughts, she succeeded, and drifted off into a light, troubled sleep once again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
'Right. Come on, let's go,' Cal hissed.
In the first glimmer of dawn they skirted the sprawled, comatose bodies of their captors, and made for the Land Rover. Frankie's heart was pounding fit to burst, but Cal's firm grip on her hand steadied her. When they reached the jeep he let her go and turned to unlock the door.
She looked back at the scene around the still-smouldering fire. Something caught her eye. Without thought, she darted quickly forward and, fleet-footed as a deer, sped silently across the camp-site.
Cal was black with fury when she returned.
'What in hell do you think you were doing? They could wake at any moment!'
'Don't ask! Just drive,' she gasped, throwing herself in beside him.
The engine burst into life with an exploding splutter that could have woken up the dead, but none of the men stirred. Cal eased out on to the track, then accelerated as fast as he dared. She looked back. No one was coming after them. She looked in front. In the thin, dawn light, the plains were grey and silent.
'We did it!'
'Don't be so sure. They could easily catch us up in that tank of theirs.'
His voice told her he was still angry. She looked at him and saw his face, hard and dark. Then he grimaced as the vehicle lurched in a rut of sand and jolted his damaged shoulder.
'I should be driving, not you!'
'You're damn lucky to be here at all. I should have gone without you—What were you doing? Collecting souvenirs?'
'No'. Your camera bag.'
He looked across, surprised, but unbending. 'It's all insured. It wasn't worth the risk.'
'There were your films, too.'
'I could have shot them again.'
'Well, my films, then,' she said with asperity. 'They were the first pictures I've ever taken. I wasn't going to lose them, if I could help it!'
Her tone made him relent, then laugh.
