Chase accepted the tray of hot tea and biscuits from the two young women who came each morning to wake them and offer something to get them moving. Each day, he requested coffee, and each day they brought tea. Fortunately, a fresh bottle of water, a battery-operated coffeemaker, and some African brand coffee packets ended up on the dresser each evening. He’d already fixed the coffee and gently set the tray down next to the cosmetic bag Tessa left open enough for a lipstick to poke out the top.
The early morning mist reminded him of something from a Terry Brooks fantasy novel, as it moved along the waters of the Okavango Delta. Sunlight divided the mist periodically, giving the impression God might be slicing the beautiful fog into smaller pieces to leave you breathless when the beauty of the river revealed itself.
He took a sip of the hot brew and compared the Okavango to his mother’s home on the Qualla Reservation. The Little Pigeon River, cold and crystal clear, had been a place to go tubing, fish for trout, and learn from his Cherokee grandfather. The old man would like it here, with the animals, tribes and traditions, and the smell of life. When he returned to the States, Chase promised himself to go for a visit. Maybe a little trout fishing would ease this ache in his chest. Then he glanced over at the bed where Tessa stirred.
After setting his cup down and pouring her hot tea, he moved to the side of the bed and decided to take a moment to let his eyes feast on the woman who had become so intertwined in his life. He found he could hardly breathe when they were apart. Maybe a heart-to-heart talk with his grandfather could put him on the straight and narrow.
When had this out-of-control emotion swallowed him? Was it the day they met under the spell of a terrorist attack? The show of bravery she demonstrated when faced with the possibility her family had been killed? Maybe it was in an alley when he took advantage of her innocence to lure some Egyptian into thinking he’d cornered his prey in Washington D.C.
He still remembered how her drenched clothes clung to her body from the outer rings of an incoming hurricane. The firmness of her lips, the unquestioning belief in her eyes that he meant her no harm, as he explored what didn’t belong to him under the badge of national security—or so he convinced himself. Because of him, Tessa had nearly died on several occasions. Kidnapped by a tribesman in Afghanistan, followed by the likes of Handsome Jones and his pretty story.
He knew he should fire her, send her back to Grass Valley to a life of church suppers, school fundraisers, and her cottage garden. Something always got in the way so that he delayed cutting her loose. Was it because of his selfish need to be near her, her ability to see geo-political conflict with new eyes for Enigma, or the fear the tribesman would return and finish what he started with her in the wilds of the Wakhan Valley.
The tribesman, Roman Darya Petrov, had brainwashed her in those days of captivity. The Enigma shrink had called it Stockholm syndrome. It took months of therapy to get her back to being her perky, happy self. The man was a lot like himself, in that he could be a ghost when need be and a dangerous weapon when push came to shove. The tribesman was one of the few men on earth who wasn’t afraid of him. And the half Afghan, half Russian, in truth, continued to be one of the few men he respected and despised at the same time.
He feared Tessa had no willpower against him. Getting her out of Afghanistan proved to be tricky and he nearly failed at the rescue. The tribesman had followed her to the States, and now he didn’t know where he was or if he kept in touch with Tessa. He suspected she knew plenty about his whereabouts but never mentioned it.
The best course of action was to get her so entrenched with her family’s life again, that nothing seemed more important than raising three kids, keeping the garden up, and doting on the needy guy she’d married. Turning her back into a regular wife and mother might be hard on him, but it was the only way to keep her safe from people she’d encountered through Enigma.
“Are you going to sleep away the morning?” He watched her stretch and nearly changed his mind about cutting her loose. “Brought you tea.”
Tessa rubbed her eyes then took the cup. “Thank you,” she mumbled. “How long have you been up? When did you come to bed last night?” She took the first sip and then gazed over the rim of the cup at him.
“You slept in the middle of the bed again. I almost had to sleep in the chair. Bed hog.”
“Poor guy.”
He recognized the snarky tone. “Well, you rewarded me, so I guess we’re square,” he teased.
Her eyes opened wider as she took another sip but remained quiet.
“What? No comeback?” He sat on the edge of the bed, forcing the tea to slosh over the edge of the cup. She sucked in her breath as the liquid touched her fingers.
“Sorry.” Still nothing.
When she’d finished the tea and handed the cup back to him, Tessa pushed the covers off and exited the bed on the opposite side from him. Chase resisted a rising impulse to pull her back and waited until she circled around. Her bare legs appeared tan and firm so that he contemplated the sanity of letting her go.
“You’re staring.” Her voice was void of emotion.
“Sorry.”
“You’ve been saying that a lot lately.” She went to the coffeepot. Like him, that was her preferred wake-up call.
Chase chewed the inside of his lip to keep from blurting out how he really felt about her.
“Refill?” She pointed to his cup. When he shook his head, she continued, “Did Handsome come by?”
“Yeah. Seems to think you’d make a good first lady of Botswana.” He couldn’t hide the sarcasm until she laughed out loud the way she did when she was totally thrilled and amused.
“I would at that. But I think Baboloki is taken,” she teased. “Oh, he meant himself.” The innocent expression on her face caused Chase to let one corner of his mouth lift.
“I told him that could be dangerous considering someone from Afghanistan might take offense.” Chase waited for a reaction. But like always when he brought it up, there was none.
Tessa set her cup down. “What did the big boy have to say. Really.”
“He really thinks you’d be a good first lady.” Tessa rolled her eyes before leveling a no-nonsense gaze his way. “And you were right about Keeya. There’s a child involved. Apparently, Baboloki has no idea Dage is really the father of that little boy he thinks is his son.”
Tessa sucked in her breath before joining him on the edge of the bed. “Sam and Carter are at the village watching over the doctor.”
Chase let his gaze drift over her body as she turned to stare out to the vista outside. He straightened quick enough when she turned back.
“Any word from Dage and Keeya?”
“I talked to Vernon earlier this morning while you were imitating Sleeping Beauty.”
Another eye roll.
“He hacked into the presidential compound and saw a lot of activity last night and this morning. The images weren’t clear except that one person was a whole lot shorter than the others.”
“The little boy.”
“That’s my guess. A lot of arm waving and cars. No one seemed to be forced into the vehicle. Then there was a report of an unscheduled takeoff from a private airstrip. No flight plan was filed, but three adults got on that plane.”
“No little guy?” Chase shook his head and clamped his lips tightly. “Suspicious. Who owns the plane and airstrip?”
“Camelthorn.”
“Mr. Kirk Opperman, the sleazy South African. I didn’t like him.”
“Can’t be sure, but the question is whose side is he on, and where is that kid?”
“Either he’s a bargaining chip, or being kept in a safe place until they return. Was there any indication of who the passengers might be?”
Chase decided another cup of coffee sounded good and left the bed to escape Tessa’s proximity. “From what Vernon could find out from his contacts on the ground, one of them was an older woman. A white man gave orders like Patton, and no mention of t
he third. He also was able to find out Baboloki made a couple of calls last night, one to Camelthorn headquarters that lasted about a minute and another to his residence. The second lasted about twenty minutes.”
“They’re coming here.”
“How you figure that? For Dage and Keeya to return is a death sentence.”
Tessa shrugged. “Only a hunch. Maybe they found out something about us and the Kifaru and plan to confront us with spying or some other offense.” Tessa slid off the bed and palmed her cheeks. “Oh my gosh! We’re going to be thrown in jail!” She started to pace. “I won’t last two minutes in jail. I’m a big cry baby and will spill my guts at the slightest threat of violence!”
“Calm down,” Chase offered in a no-nonsense voice before draining his cup. “They’re not going to throw you in jail when you could be crocodile bait. Much neater and cheaper in the long run.” He watched her stop her terrified march across the floor and glare at him with violet eyes. “I can tell by the color change of your lovely blue eyes, I may have said something that ticked you off.” He raised his eyebrows and tried to appear confused.
“Crocodiles,” she fumed. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
“I thought it was hilarious. Guess I don’t have a good read on you yet.” Chase set his cup down and moved toward the bathroom, but she cut him off. “Yes?” he said in a long, drawn-out voice.
“I need to be comforted about this.” Chase laid a hand on his chest. “Be still my heart.”
“You’re impossible,” she snapped, pushing him aside, and made a beeline to the bathroom. Then she came back, dug through her clothes, and returned to close the door with a bang.
“I could have brought those to you,” he called innocently then chuckled as he listened to her ranting on the other side of the door.
~ ~ ~
The usual group met for a breakfast of runny eggs, limp bacon, and some kind of sweet roll. The leftovers from the night before had been sent home with the staff for their families. Peter tried to show his appreciation to them when he could, knowing many of their families could use a little extra food for their children. They never asked him for a handout but appreciated his kindness whenever he offered.
Chase took his time walking to the observation platform where meals were served. The view across the delta was breathtaking this morning with a herd of elephants moving slowly along the far bank then lumbering into the water to cross. The guests leaned against the railings to snap pictures. Tomorrow, everyone would leave for home or other countries in Africa.
He observed Tessa beaming when she paused to watch the giants swim the river to enter their camp. A hush fell over the group. Watching them sway away and lift their trunks to touch the babies, while others seem to test the air, kept even him, spellbound. The matriarch shook her head and emitted a low rumbling sound. Right on cue, all twelve animals moved simultaneously through the brush and disappeared. This really was an amazing country.
Since Baboloki hadn’t arrived, he surmised he watched from his own deck. Guests were warned each day to give the animals, especially elephants, plenty of room. Chase asked Peter if someone should go check on the president.
“Several of his men have already done that. He’ll be here shortly, I’m told, along with his secretary.”
Peter then encouraged the guests to begin serving themselves. This morning, some fruit and pancakes had been added. The melted butter would have to serve as syrup, but Chase didn’t care. He had tired of their breakfast style the first morning, and the pancakes were a nice surprise.
“Morning, everyone,” the president greeted the group happily. The man liked a grand entrance. “I’ll have only coffee this morning, Peter, and maybe some fruit. Since I’ll be giving a demonstration soon, I want to be alert.”
“I can hardly wait,” Chase said flippantly. The president smirked for a few seconds before taking a sip of his coffee.
Handsome set the bowl of fruit in front of the president then poured him a cup of coffee.
“Thank you. I’m sorry. What was your name again?” Baboloki asked, looking up at Handsome with a bewildered stare. When he didn’t answer, Peter spoke up.
“This is Handsome. I mentioned him to you yesterday. He’s been my right-hand man since he came here several months ago.”
“Oh yes. I remember now. You gave me the day’s schedule. Where are you from, Handsome?”
“My family is from Maun. I lived with an American family and traveled with them most of my life.”
“Interesting.” Baboloki connected his gaze with Chase. “You two seem like old friends. I saw him join you last night on your deck.”
“I promised Mr. Hunter I’d bring him some homemade lager the villagers make.”
“Damn good stuff, too. Wasn’t expecting that.” Chase gave Handsome a nod of appreciation. “Tell your old friend I’m impressed. That’s one recipe I would like to take back home.”
Handsome chuckled good-naturedly. “That will never happen. It is passed down from generation to generation.”
“Kind of like the Kifaru, don’t you think, Handsome?” Baboloki held his coffee in midair, waiting for an answer.
“I wouldn’t know, sir.”
“That was quite an opportunity you got, traveling with Americans,” Baboloki continued. “Did your parents sell you? I ask only because sometimes there are too many mouths to feed.”
“My parents died, and some American missionaries took me in. When they returned home, they adopted me so I could go with them. I decided to return and reconnect with my roots.”
“Peter tells me you live over at the medical compound when time allows.” Baboloki held his cup up to be refilled. Handsome set the coffeepot down, refusing to comply.
This line of questioning could ignite an already-explosive situation if Handsome lost his temper and spilled the truth about his heritage, Chase needed to be ready to knock a few heads of the guards with itchy fingers and Billy clubs.
Tessa smiled sweetly then dabbed at her mouth with one of the cloth napkins. “Oh, it is such an inspiring story, Mr. President. Handsome is so modest.”
Baboloki shifted his eyes to her. “Really?”
“He volunteers there because he promised his adoptive parents wherever he went, he’d find a way to share God’s love and give his time and money if he had it. I listened to sweet stories yesterday while we were trying to get back. How he taught the children to read, carried the old people to the clinic when they couldn’t walk, and even gave his entire salary to those in need.” Tessa pretended to wipe away a tear. “Now, that is being a Christian, don’t you think?”
“Handsome, that is amazing,” the British woman said, touching her heart.
“Ms. Scott makes me sound like I have wings and a halo.” Handsome looked down at Tessa. “I am only serving God with my actions. Nothing more. Please. Do not fuss over me. I have been blessed. It is the right thing to do.”
“It must have pained you to hear of the attack on the clinic and the death of Dr. Girard.” He turned to Peter. “I’m sorry to ask, but did they ever find his body?”
“I’m afraid that part of the building burned completely down. He must have fallen asleep in there. Such a shame. He was such a good man.” Peter shook his head in dismay. “I don’t how those people will do without a clinic.”
Baboloki set his cup down and clapped his hands together. “After the coming election, I will make sure it is rebuilt,” he proclaimed. “These people are the life blood of the delta. We must keep it filled with their traditions, and knowledge of the Okavango.” Baboloki turned back to Handsome who remained solemn. “We will catch these men who did this. I promise you that.”
When Handsome took a threatening step toward the president, Chase diverted the attention to himself. “I guess you are the real deal, Mr. President. I’ve misjudged you. I’m looking forward to your demonstration later today. Perhaps you’d like to share our boat for our last ride in the Okavango?”
“If y
our lovely companion doesn’t mind sharing, I would enjoy that.”
Peter laughed. “I have secured several drivers for three boats, so everyone can go. Our guides were told about some young cheetahs down river and a herd of wildebeest crossing some shallow waters. It’s not the great migration of the Serengeti, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy the show nonetheless. We’ve packed some fishing poles for those of you who’d like to try your hand at catching a tiger fish. Ugly rascals, but a good photo op.”
Peter ordered the servers to clean up and told the guests to prepare to leave in fifteen minutes.
“Get a handle on yourself,” Chase mumbled as he walked past Handsome. “You were letting him bait you.” He took Tessa’s hand and pulled her after him. At the bottom of the steps, he put his arm around her neck and pulled her in tight to whisper in her ear, “You are getting too comfortable telling lies, Tessa Scott. Good job back there.”
She elbowed him hard enough to make him flinch and whispered back, “If I’m going to be first lady, I’ve got to protect my future, don’t I?”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Three passengers disembarked from the small-engine plane to find a late-model Land Rover waiting for them. A driver leaning against the tailgate waved a greeting. Landing had taken two tries since the first try met with a herd of slow-moving elephants crossing the runway into the bush, followed by some baboons who decided to sit for a while. The sound of the plane hurried their decision to scamper away in agitation.
Dage assisted Keeya to a comfortable position in the Rover and brought her a bottled water. She’d gotten a little airsick but hadn’t complained. He took note of how Kirk Opperman gave some instructions to the pilot about returning, and soon the plane disappeared over the tops of the trees. The driver stowed what little luggage they’d brought and waited for Kirk to settle in before heading out.
The driver played some African rap music on the radio until Kirk turned it off. The drive to Keeya’s village took almost an hour and a half, part of the time spent waiting for zebras to get out of the way and a limping wildebeest being stalked by a couple of hungry lions. Dage was grateful Keeya didn’t complain. The sparkle in her eyes indicated her enjoyment of the trip.
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