After that it got easier. He watched every face, seeing the trepidation there, but also the warmth, the pride and hope. He mirrored every smile, returned every gesture of friendship, even learned a few words of their dialect. And as morning drew to an end and they finally left, Carson realized he had begun to care for these amazingly resilient people.
# # #
Carson resisted the urge to grin as he looked down at his cards; he couldn't have gotten a better hand if he had asked for it. Three hours of playing poker at the casino and he already had enough money to go back home. Even better, the extra cash he had won would allow him to buy more medicine to help the Jawarans.
He glanced at the man sitting before him, the last of the players from tonight's game. The Jawaran was sweating profusely and swallowed thickly on occasion, but the way he kept rubbing a thumb over his left eyebrow warned Carson he might have a good hand. Over the course of the night, Carson had noticed it was one of the man's tells, an unconscious gesture he repeated whenever he was sure to win.
There was something off about the Jawaran. He came across as mild-mannered, even meek, but there was a coldness to his eyes that betrayed his act. And of course, the two bruisers he had brought with him, and who were currently leaning against the farthest wall, didn't exactly fit in with the harmless image he was trying to sell.
"Well?" Carson asked when the silence threatened to stretch for too long.
His opponent smiled. "I win this time, Mr. Bodine," he said proudly, placing his cards on the table. "Full house."
"A very good hand indeed, Mr. Jabulani," Carson said. "However, mine's better. Royal flush." He spread the cards on the wooden tabletop. "I win."
He made to reach for the winnings, but Jabulani's voice stopped him. "Mr. Bodine, wait. How about a rematch? Winner takes all?"
Carson raised an eyebrow at the man. "I don't see any money on your side of the table."
"Damn heat," Jabulani muttered, running a handkerchief roughly over his forehead. "I confess that was the last of my gambling money and the reason why I would like a chance to win it back. While I may not have any immediate cash, I do have something far more valuable. Something worth ten times the amount you won, especially if handled properly."
"And that something is?" Carson asked, unable to curb his curiosity.
Jabulani leaned forward, while at the same time speaking in a whisper. "Have you heard of the virus plaguing this country's population?"
Carson frowned in puzzlement. "The influenza virus? Yes. What about it?"
"I have recently... come into possession of an amount of medication. And I mean a large amount. Probably enough to vaccinate and cure the people in more than half of the villages and tribes," Jabulani said, face twisting with scorn.
"Have you, now?" Carson drawled, fighting the compulsion to punch the man's face. So this was the buyer of Jack's shipment. This was the scumbag who Geils had sold it to. It explained the two thugs; only a fool would do business with men like Geils and not have his own protectors.
Jabulani smirked. "Indeed. Sold on the black market it'll be worth twice, maybe three times the amount I paid. I will play you for it."
Carson wanted very much to ask some questions, like how had the man known about the medication, why he had wanted it in the first place. Or why he hadn't sold it yet, and, more importantly, did he know how to get in touch with Geils. But asking those questions would make Jabulani suspicious and he would probably withdraw his offer. And after working with Jack every day this last week, after watching the effects of the virus, he knew the important thing was to get the shipment back.
The solution was to win the medication and then let Jack have a go at Jabulani. With their informants and Kit's contacts it shouldn't be too difficult to find out more about him. The staff at the casino seemed very familiar with Jabulani, which probably meant he was a regular visitor. He certainly showed all the signs of a compulsive gambler, having lost a small fortune not only to Carson, but the other players as well.
"Very well," Carson agreed. "You're on."
Jabulani rubbed his hands together. "Good, good. Let's play."
Cards were dealt and the game got underway. Like in the previous game Jabulani proved fairly easy to beat. In the end, Carson was the victor.
"It seems one man's misfortune is another man's luck," he said to Jabulani as he pocketed the cash. "Now, maybe you could take me to the remainder of my winnings?"
Jabulani gave in with ill-grace. "Come with me."
Carson rose from his chair, allowing his jacket to fall open, and uncovering the waist holster and gun that Jack had given him. "Your... friends should stay here," he said, gesturing to the two goons. It wasn't a suggestion, and Jabulani heard it in his voice.
Jabulani looked hard-pressed to hold his anger. "Of course," he gritted out.
To Carson's surprise, Jabulani took him to the hotel's underground garage. There--hidden in plain sight--stood three trucks marked with the insignia of a local fertilizer company.
Carson raised the canvas of the closest one, his other hand never straying far from his holster, whistling softly at the pile of boxes filling it; row after row, going as far up as possible. He opened two of the boxes at random, wanting to make sure he wasn't being swindled, then smiled, satisfied.
"It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Jabulani," he said, hoping the dismissal was clear in his tone.
It was. Jabulani turned without another word, shoes making a hollow tapping on the ground as he left Carson alone with his treasure.
Walking over to the entrance, but holding a position in which he could watch the trucks and his surroundings, Carson reached inside his jacket for his cellular. He dialed Jack's number--which along with the Jungle Tavern--was now on speed-dial on his phone, and listened while it rang.
"MacKenzie."
"Jack, it's me," he said when there was an answer on the other end.
"Carson? Is something wrong?" There was an edge of panic in Jack's voice.
Carson chuckled. "Calm down, boss. There's nothing wrong. I need you guys to meet me, though. It's important. I've got a surprise for you."
"A surprise, huh?" Fear rapidly turned to amusement in Jack's tone. "Okay. Where do we meet?"
"At the underground garage in my hotel. I'll be waiting for you."
"We'll be there in fifteen minutes," Jack said. "Hang tight."
Carson finished the call and leaned against the wall, fingers brushing absently over his gun, watching the crowd thinning as the witching hour grew nearer. His eyes strayed to the three trucks and he shook his head ruefully at the irony of it all. He had spent the last days helping to search for those same vehicles and their contents, and all this time they had been resting right under his nose. Life's little mischiefs were diabolical at times.
# # #
They left the two jeeps parked by the side of the hotel and continued on foot to the garage. As soon as Jack spotted Carson, he knew that in spite of their earlier conversation, there was indeed something wrong. Jack had begun to grasp Carson's body language, and at the moment it spelled trouble.
Carson was standing against a wall, glancing around, body tense and at attention, as if he feared an attack. He turned his head abruptly as he heard their footsteps, and to Jack's pleasure, he relaxed as soon as he recognized them.
Before Jack could say a word, though, Carson gave them an enigmatic smile and gestured with a finger for them to follow. They moved through the ground level quietly, until finally Carson stopped.
"My friends, I believe this is what you've been looking for," he said, moving aside a canvas covering the back of a truck.
Jackie gasped. "Oh, wow," she breathed. "How did you--?"
"Come to be in possession of such a precious loot?" Carson quipped. "I won it at a poker game, if you can believe it. I didn't think it was such a good idea to ask any questions at the time, but I can tell you the guy's name is Jabulani."
"Jabulani," Jack growled, enraged.
"That little weasel. I should've known."
"You know him?" Carson asked, surprised.
"Not personally. But we've dealt with some of his men before," Jarod told Carson. "He's got his hands in everything from drugs to prostitution. He's too well connected to ever get caught in the act. Not that he does anything himself; he's got a handful of men that do his dirty work for him. From what we've heard, he doesn't look like much."
"No, he doesn't," Carson agreed. "But I'd say in his case appearances are deceiving. Now, I suggest you get these trucks out of here and quickly. Jabulani had two gorillas with him; I wouldn't put it past him to try to get this stuff back."
Jack nodded. He would make sure to deal with Jabulani and his henchmen in the near future. But for now, they had more important things to focus on.
"Jackie, Viv, Brendan, drive the trucks back to camp. Roger, Jarod, take one of the jeeps and go with them. I want to have a word with Carson. I'll follow as soon as possible." Once they were alone, Jack smiled at Carson. "Thank you."
Jack thought maybe he should start believing in fate. After all, Jawara was ninety percent jungle. The odds of he and Carson running into each other had been slim at best. Still, here they were, and Jack couldn't help feeling a little smug that his gut instinct had been right. Taking Carson in had been one of the smartest moves Jack had ever done in his life, and it had definitely paid off.
"You're welcome," Carson replied, sharing his smile. "I didn't have much to do with this, really. Blame it on Lady Luck, or destiny, if you will. My role was an easy one."
"But very important. Listen, now that we have the vaccines, we'll be away for the next three to four days, trying to get that stuff to as many people as possible. You wanna go with us? It would mean sleeping in the trucks or on the hard ground for a few nights, eating canned food, no modern comforts, no showers... I won't lie to you, it won't be like last time. Some of the tribes we're bound to visit this time will've been hit harder, we'll have more sick people to tend to. What do you say?"
He wanted desperately for Carson to say yes. Carson belonged perfectly in his team. Jarod had said something one evening about old friends that had just met, referring to the ease with which Carson had found his place with them. In spite of the short time they had known each other, they worked seamlessly together, like a well-oiled machine. He couldn't imagine Carson not being there anymore, watching his back, fighting by his side.
"I don't know, Jack," Carson said with a slight wince. "What I eat or where I sleep doesn't matter much, but I'm flying blind here. Lately my life feels like a roller coaster ride. Cannibals, mercenaries, hostile tribes... This country makes New York's criminals seem like choir boys by comparison."
Jack laughed. "Yeah, it does take some getting used to. But you've done great so far. And I trust you to do the right thing out there, I trust your instincts." He noticed the hesitation lurking in Carson's eyes and played his trump card. "I could use your help." He tried to look pitiful, knowing it probably wouldn't work. Pitiful wasn't a look that came easy to him.
Carson scoffed, arms folded tightly across his chest. "That's a cheap shot, MacKenzie. Not that that little boy lost look works or anything." Jack met his gaze candidly and Carson's eyes narrowed to slits. "Okay, fine, you win. I guess I could use a change of scenery, anyway."
Jack fought the impulse to gloat at his victory, knowing how much it would only annoy Carson. "Great," he said instead. "Go back to your room and pack a few days worth of clothes, and anything else you think you'll need. Keep it light. I'll wait in the Wrangler."
He walked slowly back to the jeep after they parted, feeling something warm inside at the thought of having Carson with them for a few days. The more he saw of the man, the more he enjoyed his company. They seemed to have crossed the line from perfect strangers to friends effortlessly. And Jack liked that very much.
# # #
Chapter Seven
The next morning, the team divided themselves amongst the three trucks and headed in different directions. Jarod and Brendan went north; Vivian, Jackie and Roger, south; and Jack and Carson, east. The capital was to the west, and so far the local hospital had been able to control the virus in town.
By nine they were arriving at the first village. Carson had been enjoying the ride, alternating between comfortable silence and small talk when a sudden thought came to him.
"Jack, what about Njau? How are they coping with the virus? Bruce and I were there and I don't remember seeing a hospital."
In truth he didn't remember seeing much of anything in Njau, except maybe for skid rows and neglected neighborhoods where members from different tribes came together, and not always peacefully. Njau managed to be even poorer than Jawara City, lacking everything from health care institutions to proper commerce establishments, making it harder for the town to prosper.
"That's because there isn't one," Jack said. "The Red Cross and Doctors Without Borders are there, doing the best they can. It's the villages spread throughout the jungle that are at risk."
"But what about the warrior tribes and the cannibals? How are we going to vaccinate them, if every time we get near they try to kill us?"
"We aren't. Not all tribes are squabbling; some of the more peaceful villages get along with their neighbors. Kit and Vivian have been using their connections in those tribes as emissaries, trying to convince the hostile ones to allow us, or any of the humanitarian groups, to visit their settlements. Only two have allowed the Red Cross to treat them. The others..." He shrugged helplessly. "They don't really have much contact with the outside world. That has helped preventing the virus from hitting them so far, but it won't last. Sooner or later, they'll get sick too and if they keep refusing our help, their tribes will be decimated."
"Will this really help the others?" Carson asked in a hushed tone as Jack stopped the truck. "The vaccine, the medication? I've seen the conditions they live in. How can they survive even when healthy? They drink bad water, have no sewage system, barely have enough food for one meal a day, if that, and have to brave the elements with nothing but those shacks for shelter. It's insane."
Jack sighed. "Are you asking me if the vaccine works? Then, yes. Will it improve their lives? No. In a week, a month, or even a year's time, another disease will hit them and we'll go through this all over again. Until the government sees to their basic needs, these people are stuck in a vicious cycle. All we can do is try to make it better for them." He squeezed Carson's hand gently. "Come on, we've got work to do."
Carson stepped out of the truck and walked with Jack to the village, both of them finding themselves immediately surrounded by the tribesfolk, who were cheering and talking incessantly.
Carson exchanged a small smile with Jack. They might not be able to save all the tribes in the country, but they could certainly try.
# # #
For the rest of the day, Jack watched with a sense of awe as, without so much as understanding a word, or counting on Jack's limited help in that respect, Carson nevertheless charmed the Jawarans in the villages they visited, in particular the children. He seemed to connect with them on levels that required no language skills.
They managed to travel to six villages and in all of them the same would happen. As soon as everyone was vaccinated and medication had been handed out, Carson was certain to have a bunch of children laughing and chasing him around, a modern pied piper in a ravished land.
Jack remembered the jittery man he had taken with him to the Okoth village, terrified of hurting someone, scared he might get sick, but still trying to do his best. Looking at Carson now, Jack could see the remnants of that initial wariness. He knew Carson still felt uncomfortable tending to the sick, especially the terminal ones. But he also saw the fierce joy in Carson's eyes for every person or tribe they helped, the heartache for every one they had been unable to reach in time. He continued to exceed Jack's expectations, refusing to give up and that took guts.
Jack sat under a tree, watching Carson and a small
group of children fiercely engaged in a making faces contest. He chuckled ruefully, knowing he had fallen in love with Carson. Only that could explain why looking at Carson with his eyes crossed, fingers up his nose, tongue sticking out and eyebrows wiggling madly, was still an attractive sight.
"I must be out of my mind," he whispered.
Loving Carson was easy. Besides the obvious attractive package, the man was kind, generous, brave, witty and had become a damn good friend. But what the hell was Jack going to do when Carson went back to the States? Pushing that depressing thought aside, he rose to his feet. Their work wasn't done; there were other villages to visit.
# # #
By the end of the day both men were sweaty, covered in mud and both wore matching satisfied grins. They crawled back into the truck, and remained seated for a while without saying a word. Finally Carson sighed, relaxing against the backrest, and closing his eyes.
"Now what?" he asked in a low tone.
"We've done enough for one day. Now I'll take you to paradise."
Carson laughed at his words. "Is that a promise?"
Jack ignored the thrill the husky voice sent all over his body, and joined in the laughter. "Yep. You've earned it. You did good today, Carson."
"Thank you. So did you."
Jack gunned the engine and began to drive slowly to the spot he had in mind, looking curiously at his companion as Carson chuckled quietly to himself. "What?"
Carson shook his head. "Nothing."
"Come on, let me in on the secret. What's up?"
"It's stupid," Carson began. "But I seem to be experiencing a wonderful sense of fulfillment," he winced playfully at Jack. "Stupid, yes?"
"Stupid, no," Jack reassured him. "I feel the same, Carson. It's only natural."
"It's such a peculiar feeling, though. I became a private investigator because I wanted to do something, to make a difference, to help people. And although not as often as I would've liked, I have made that difference. But I've never felt anything even remotely close to what I'm feeling right now. Or since I began working with you, for that matter."
The Ripple Effect Page 8
