Young Janvier watched DeeAnn as she began to cry through tears of frustration.
“You know’d this lady?”
She nodded through her hands. “Yes. I did.”
He continued watching her. “My mother says the Mountain Lady was a good woman.”
“She was. A very good woman. And this is what happens when you try to help!”
Janvier nodded, sympathetically. He had brought others into the mountains before, but not like these. He stepped closer to DeeAnn. “Then for this, you cannot tell anyone. I can maybe show you something else.”
“Something else?”
The teen nodded. “Books.”
“What kind of books?”
“Books belonged to the Mountain Lady.”
Her heart skipped a beat and DeeAnn looked up at Janvier. “Books that belonged to Dian Fossey?”
“Yes.”
“Which books?”
The young man looked back and forth between them. “Secret books.”
Staring at Janvier, her hands almost began to tremble. When Dian Fossey was killed, not all her belongings had been accounted for. Including some of her journals.
“You’re saying you have secret books of hers?”
Janvier shook his head. “Not me. Someone I know. A man who lives up here. For a long time.”
DeeAnn remained still. Dumbfounded. It couldn’t be. It was impossible.
Seeing her face, Caesare stepped closer. “How far away is this man, Janvier?”
“One hour, maybe. He lives deep in the forest.”
“And how much to see the books?”
The boy thought. “Maybe one hundred dollars. But not for me.”
65
True to his word, the trek was little more than an hour. Through increasingly dense forest, the group pushed forward, navigating a narrow one-foot-wide path through thickets of trees and bushes––which rose over their heads, blotting out most of the midday sun.
Caesare, whose wide frame seemed to brush every possible plant, was completely soaked from the runoff. And he now was carrying Dulce as well as Dexter.
Just behind Janvier, John Clay pushed branches out of the way for DeeAnn and Caesare behind him. In many places, the path was barely visible, leaving Clay wondering if the obscurity was intentional. Yet more than that, Clay and Caesare were silently beginning to exchange looks of skepticism. Things felt too easy. From their arrival, to finding Janvier, and now the Fossey cabin. So far it was all too smooth. Which left them both wondering what surprises were still waiting for them.
But for DeeAnn, the trip seemed excruciatingly long. The mere possibility that some of Fossey’s things had survived this many years was beyond astonishing––new things that may not have been cataloged during the old investigation. And just maybe, things that would shed more light on the circumstances around her death. Like who exactly was behind it.
She remembered that the official records had shown that Fossey was clearly being harassed for months before it happened. But there was no evidence of who it was.
Now if there was evidence uncovered pointing to who, the case could possibly be reopened. And perhaps the killers brought to justice.
However as they continued pushing forward through the forest, DeeAnn completely forgot in her excitement just how little political will there really was in Rwanda in seeing Dian Fossey’s case finally solved.
66
Finally, the path widened in front of them, revealing an area large enough for an old garden and even older dwelling behind it. Though not much bigger than the remains of the Fossey structure, this one was at least still standing. For the moment. The outside was composed of numerous different materials, from mismatched boards to sections of rusted sheet metal, all attached to form a large shanty.
No sooner had they emerged from the dense forest, when a pair of dark eyes appeared from a crooked doorway and shouted something in Kinyarwandan.
Everyone stopped and Janvier called back, with the only recognizable word being his name.
The loud male voice replied with a single syllable and the teenager turned around anxiously. “Please for you. Wait here. I will return very soon.”
All eyes watched Janvier as he approached the house. With hands raised, he spoke slowly and loudly. When he reached the door, it opened wide but not enough to let him in.
“I hope this guy actually knows something,” Caesare said.
“So do I,” Clay nodded. He looked at the forest surrounding them on all sides. “He may be in a world all his own here, in more ways than one.”
DeeAnn didn’t reply. Instead she and both primates watched in rapt attention as Janvier continued talking to the man. Several hand gestures motioned toward them followed by the boy shaking his head. Finally, the conversation ended and Janvier returned.
He smiled but didn’t say anything at first, leaving Caesare to lean forward with raised eyebrows.
“Annnd?”
“He doesn’t want to show you the books. But I tell him you are good people. He says five hundred dollars.”
“Five hundred?!” Caesare turned to Clay. “That’s some pretty serious inflation.”
Clay nodded. “Five hundred dollars, Janvier. And we see everything he has.”
***
The inside of the cabin looked even worse than the outside. Small gaps between wallboards left dozens of holes with the sun shining through. Along with the lack of insulation, there ironically seemed to be little air flow either. Providing a rather stuffy interior, the room was literally packed from corner to corner with discarded odds and ends. Surprisingly though, what looked to the three of them to be junk was relatively well organized.
The thin man had dark skin and appeared to be in his eighties. He eyed them cautiously while DeeAnn paged through one of the books. His face not hiding his irritation, he re-counted the bills in his hand several more times, making a few angry sounds while shuffling about the cabin.
Two other leather-bound books in front of DeeAnn were old textbooks, which she immediately pushed aside when she spotted the two she was looking for.
They were journals. Handwritten and faded, they were actual journals written in Dian Fossey’s own hand. And one, to DeeAnn’s stunned amazement, was the very journal she kept just before her death. Here. In possession of a recluse whom few probably even knew existed.
She looked up at John Clay, who was standing nearby, and barely managed to get the words out.
“This…is incredible.”
She dropped her eyes and continued reading while Clay held his breath in anticipation. “Is there anything useful?”
After several moments, DeeAnn nodded, squinting at a section of the faded script. “Yes. God, yes.” After finishing the page, she looked up again at him. “She knew exactly who was harassing her.”
“Enough to name them?”
DeeAnn smiled and continued nodding. After another page of reading, she stopped again, pushing a few loose pages back into place. “And there’s more.”
“More?”
DeeAnn glanced past Clay to the boy, and he took the hint.
“Janvier,” Clay said. “Would you mind leaving us for a moment? We’d like to speak privately.”
“Yes.” He spoke briefly to the old man again in Kinyarwandan and pushed through the door to where Caesare and the two primates played outside, waiting.
“John, it wasn’t just about the poaching,” DeeAnn said while reading. “That’s where it started…but it was only the beginning.” She flipped through more pages and remained quiet for several minutes. “She’d been fighting back against them for years, destroying their gorilla traps, which is when the harassment first began. Things in the middle of the night. Like her water supply being drained or rocks thrown through her windows.”
DeeAnn continued reading a couple more pages before she stopped and suddenly looked at Clay. “Over the years, things continued to escalate. But toward the end, less than a week before she died…she found
something.”
“What?”
She flipped through more, scanning. “She doesn’t say specifically. Just that it was something odd, in the forest. But it looks like she told two people. A researcher back home, via letter. And a friend…in Kigali. Days before she died.”
“Did she say where this discovery was?”
DeeAnn’s lip curled, and she nodded. “Yes…she…did.”
Clay glanced up at the old man, who momentarily had his back turned. He quickly reached into his pocket and slipped something silently into DeeAnn’s hand.
“Hurry.”
Clay then turned around and walked to the door. The boy was standing under the structure’s flimsy overhang, watching Caesare and the primates. Dulce was halfway up a tree, and Dexter was quietly studying the forest behind them.
“Janvier,” Clay pushed the door out and stepped onto the porch. “How much to buy these books?”
Janvier looked surprised. He called to the old man who appeared in the doorway. When asked, the man’s eyes and face grew angry, and he snapped at Janvier in Kinyarwandan. He pointed at both Clay and Caesare, raising his voice even further.
Janvier was unprepared for the reaction. He spoke quickly to calm the man down but to little effect. He turned to Clay, nervously. “He say the books are not for sale. And we must leave now.”
The old man disappeared from the door and could be heard yelling toward DeeAnn.
“Easy,” Clay said. “Tell him we’re not trying to cause trouble.”
Janvier called into the cabin but the shouting only got louder.
“He is not listening. He thinks you are trying to take his things. We must go!”
DeeAnn suddenly pushed through the door. “Hey, take it easy! It was just a question!”
Caesare approached with Dulce. “It sounds like we’ve outstayed our welcome.”
“You could say that,” Clay retorted.
“Okay, Janvier. I guess it’s time to head out.”
The youth nodded and moved quickly past the garden, followed by Caesare, Dulce, and Dexter.
Before falling in behind them, Clay stepped from the porch with DeeAnn and pulled her in close. With their backs to the cabin, she passed the small camera back to him.
“Did you get it?”
She nodded. “I think so.”
67
The trip back went faster. After returning to the Jeep, they wasted no time in retrieving a map from one of their packs and unfolding it across the hood of the vehicle.
DeeAnn sifted through the pictures on the camera and stopped when she found the image she was looking for. She enlarged it on the screen and studied the faint handwriting. She held the camera over the map and traced up the paper with her finger.
“She said it was along the Albertine Rift. Just southeast of Mount Bisoke. Which would put it…about here.”
Caesare peered across the hood to Clay. “Same area as Borger’s images.”
After a palpable silence, all three turned to find Janvier staring wide-eyed at the map. And more specifically, the location of DeeAnn’s finger. He slowly shook his head, horrified. “We cannot go there. It is forbidden.” He looked at them. “We will be killed.”
“By who?”
“By Ngeze. He is very fierce. He will kill us all.” When Clay and Caesare straightened, Janvier took several steps back. “No. From here I must leave. I cannot help you anymore.”
Caesare frowned. “All right, kid. We don’t want to put you in danger.” He approached and extended a folded wad of bills.
Janvier glanced briefly before taking them.
“None of us were here. Do you understand?”
“Yes. But I warn, you should not go there. It is dangerous.” With that, the teenager turned and began running back down the dirt road.
Both men turned back around to DeeAnn who was still leaning over the front of the Jeep. “Okay, I don’t know about you, but that sounded pretty ominous to me.”
They were suddenly interrupted by the vest on DeeAnn’s chest.
He scare.
Dulce was watching the teenager as he ran.
DeeAnn pursed her lips in frustration. She had forgotten to turn off the vest.
“Yes. He is,” was all she could say.
Why scare?
“He doesn’t want to go any further.”
Why scare? Dulce repeated.
She thought about how best to explain it. “There are bad people here.”
Why bad people here?
Her next reply was hesitant. “Bad people hurt other people…and gorillas.”
Why?
To this, DeeAnn had no answer. “I…don’t know.”
Danger?
“Yes. There is some danger here.”
Dulce studied the forest in front of them. She then backed up until she bumped against Caesare’s leg, where she wrapped an arm around it.
“But we will be safe.”
The young gorilla nodded but did not reply.
What no one noticed was the smaller Dexter, nearby and still staring into the deep brush––seemingly oblivious to the others.
There was someone else in the forest.
68
Alison listened pensively to each successive ring on the other end. When Clay finally answered, she smiled with relief.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” she said softly. “It’s me.”
Clay smiled and walked away from the Jeep. “Well, hello there.” He then frowned as he looked at his watch. “Aren’t you up a bit early?”
On the other end, Alison peered out over the side of the Pathfinder ship and into the darkness of the ocean. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She nodded, absently tapping the metal railing with her finger. “Just a lot on my mind, I guess. How are things over there?”
“Interesting might be a good word.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, we’re all fine. Just some surprises we hadn’t expected.”
Alison frowned to herself, wishing she could ask more questions over the phone. The call was encrypted, but she could hear Will Borger’s voice going on about how all encryption could be broken, eventually.
“I wish you were still here.”
She couldn’t see Clay’s smile on the other end. “So do I. I’d trade the jungle for the tropics any day.”
“Oh, I see,” Alison teased. “So it’s not a matter of who. Just where.”
“Well, let’s just say that if you were here, I’d have to change my answer.”
“Good. I like that better.”
“What do you have planned for today?”
She shrugged. “I thought I’d get in the water.”
“I could have guessed that,” Clay said. “Hey, look up.”
Alison tilted her head back. “What?”
“Can you see the moon?”
“Yes.”
“So can I.”
Alison’s expression softened. “We’re looking at the same moon.”
“Yep. Almost like I’m there with you.”
“I really wish you were.”
“So do I. And not because of the weather.”
Alison laughed. “Well, I should probably let you go. I just wanted to check in on you guys.”
“I’m glad you did. Tell Dirk and Sally I said hi.”
“I will. Any messages for Will? He’s following your signal from satellite.”
Clay looked toward the Jeep. “Any message for Borger?”
“Yeah,” Caesare said. “Tell him next time he’s coming with us.”
Clay turned back to the phone. “Tell Will that Steve sends his love.”
“I will,” Alison chuckled. “Be careful.”
“Always.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Ali. Enjoy your swim,” he responded tenderly.
“Bye.”
Alison ended the call and inhaled, still smiling.
She looked back up at the moon, wondering where Clay was standing at that exact moment.
She had no idea that in barely twelve hours she would be wondering whether that would be the last time she ever spoke with John Clay.
69
The moon was only partially visible through the thin cloud layer sliding ominously across northeast China. Barely illuminating the ground for Peng and the rest of his squad, a glow now shone lightly on Sheng Lam. The man had not spoken a word to them for hours.
They were all irritated.
It shouldn’t have taken this long to find the girl. She was still a kid for Christ’s sake. But somehow she had managed to evade both them and their helicopter pilot. And while only a teenager, the girl was proving to be an exceedingly smart one. She knew enough to stay under the cover of the trees, blocking the view from above. She also seemed to know where to walk over objects such as logs and rocks when possible, causing them to stop more often to reestablish her tracks.
In front of Peng, Sheng Lam studied the ground under his dim red flashlight. Still silent. They should have had her by now. They should have had her hours ago! But Peng and his men were slowing him down, moving methodically through the brush when they didn’t need to. The girl was moving much too fast to suddenly stop and hide. So fast, in fact, that Lam was coming to an unlikely conclusion.
She was moving as fast as she had been earlier in the day, if not faster. But that was impossible. No one’s endurance could last that long. Even the best, most highly trained soldiers began to show signs of exhaustion after just a few hours of heavy exertion. It was impossible that the young girl wouldn’t.
And it wasn’t only how fast she was moving, but where. She was headed directly toward Shenyang, the next large metropolitan area, now less than a day away. There, the streets and walkways would leave no prints––no traces at all to help him find her. And fewer cameras. They had to find her quickly, before even Lam’s skills would become irrelevant.
Ripple (Breakthrough Book 4) Page 23