by Peter Riva
Fatigue, and a relief to be back safe with the one he loved, caused Pero to want to avoid a discussion, just wash up and rest with Susanna while she held him tight. He was, he realized, still frightened and suffering from a post-adrenaline hangover. Susanna looked into his eyes, put her fingers on his lips to silence any thought of revelation, and walked him into the brightly lit bathroom. She turned on the shower, helped him undress, put him under the strong water stream, and flipped on the shower stall lights. Then she put the back of her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. Shocked, Pero turned and loudly exclaimed, “Darling, what’s wrong?”
She waved at him. “Ach mein schatz, stay, wash, ich komm gleich wieder.” (Oh, my darling, stay, wash, I’ll come right back.) She ran out of the bathroom and out of earshot, opened the door into the corridor, and banged on the door of Heep’s room. “Leeches; his back and legs are covered in leeches.” Heep went to his equipment bag and grabbed a tiny screwdriver and a butane lighter. He followed Susanna back to her room and into the bathroom, and Susanna opened the glass door of the shower.
Pero was surprised to see Heep there, and a little embarrassed. Then he saw Heep heating the screwdriver to red hot, coming closer. He looked down at his thighs, saw the black slugs, and responded how everyone else usually does—shiver from head to toe. “Oh, God . . . okay, Heep, carry on.”
Heep stuck the red-hot screwdriver tip into each leech in succession, watching them release their hold, each leaving two small rivulets of Pero’s blood that dripped down his legs and was washed away by the shower water. Susanna was simultaneously checking parts of his body that Pero could not see. “Lift your leg . . . yes, see, Heep? There’s one up there.”
Having a friend stick a red-hot poker into a leech hiding in your crotch was not something Pero ever thought he would have to endure. At least I’m awake now! He thought. Then he asked Susanna, “Do you have any Alcide made up? I guess it might help stave off infection.” Alcide was a two-part liquid formula, an antiseptic, antibacterial, anti-fungal solution that Pero had gotten from a NASA doctor. He’d used it for years and swore by it. He had even prevented dysentery once by swallowing some after a suspect meal left the rest of the crew violently ill the next day. Susanna opened her bathroom case, pulled out a bottle of previously mixed yellow liquid and some cotton balls, and started cleaning the leeches’ punctures with the stinging Alcide. Pero thought, The more it stings, the deeper it goes.
Heep worked away, reheating the point of the screwdriver, pulling the leeches off Pero’s legs and torso, dropping them into the toilet. Finally, he said, “I can’t see anymore. Their nerve toxin really kept you from feeling them, eh?” Heep prattled on, “But you had more than thirty, Pero, more than that. Maybe you should take some antibiotics to be sure . . .” Susanna thanked Heep as he turned away.
As Heep left the bathroom, Pero heard him say, “It’s okay, Susanna, we’ve known each other a long time. Not a worry. But that’s a record amount of leeches! He’ll have bragging rights.” Pero heard Heep’s laughter clearly, then it cut off when the door to the corridor closed.
Susanna returned to the bathroom and continued applying the Alcide. Then she handed Pero her shampoo. “You smell. This will help.” He lathered up and washed his hair and then his whole body. After he rinsed, she handed him a large towel as he stepped from the glass enclosure. As he dried, she inspected the leech bite marks, some still bleeding a little. She dabbed more Alcide, and one stung more than the others did. “This one may be deeper. Hold still . . .” she dabbed more antiseptic on the punctures. “Ach, okay it is as good as I can do. But they might get infected. Heep may be right about the antibiotics.”
Pero nodded, yawned, and realized that fatigue was rolling over him again. Susanna escorted him to bed, tucked him in, and went around to the other side to lie next to him until he was asleep. Soon Pero was breathing deeply, out cold. Susanna got up, went to the phone, and said quietly, “Heep, bring the walkie-talkie in here, please.” Moments later, there was a knock at the door. Heep handed her a walkie talkie, holding another one in his other hand. She turned one on, clicked the transmit switch to on, held it in place with two strong rubber bands, and motioned Heep out the room, following along. “Turn yours on, please, channel three.” Heep did so. “Good, now we go into Mary’s room and talk. We wait for Mbuno. He will know what is wrong.”
Heep looked at Susanna, wondering what she meant exactly. Was it the satellite phone? Ube was safe; Pero, Mbuno, and Bob had clearly done their part brilliantly. Yes, he thought, there may be a risk of retribution, but surely we are safe here, no? His thoughts turned into wishful thinking. We’re done, aren’t we? Please, God, let us be done.
Susanna, hugging Mary, sensed Heep was still worrying that something was wrong. Holding Mary’s hand, Susanna said, “I know him, so do you. The satellite radio doesn’t tell me; his worry does, his sad eyes. He is not content at their success in rescuing Ube. There is more.” The three friends held their concerned expressions. Susanna added, “It can wait. We have to wait for Mbuno.”
CHAPTER 20
Kuja Nyumbani—Coming Home
From a deep and troubled sleep, Pero woke and called out for Susanna. She was not there. He started to get up when the door opened, and Heep, Mary, and Susanna hurried in. Pero had woken with one thought. “Make sure Mbuno and Bob do not come into the hotel, not the front entrance. Ask Mr. Janardan to let them in through the servants’ entrance.” Then, he had an afterthought. “And if Ube has recovered, maybe he should not come here at all. Well, maybe the back entrance would be okay.”
Heep sat on the edge of the bed. “What’s up?”
“Two men, blond hair, were watching me arrive and saw me take the elevator. They were sitting in the lobby.”
“It might be nothing, you were filthy . . .” said Heep, but then he realized it was foolish to argue.
Mary said, “I’ll go down and see Mr. Janardan right away.” She turned and left.
Pero relaxed. “Any news?”
Heep replied, “Not yet. I called the hospital, and Ube is still unresponsive but stable. They have given him something to counteract the drug he was given. Tone Bowman, Mbuno, your two askari, and Niamba are with him. Tone made sure I was to tell you that he also has the two askari standing guard.” To change the subject, he added, “We have the films, all developed. I’ve been through them—nothing I can see. Just the usual tourist stuff.”
“Maybe we can look at them later when Mbuno is back. Then he and I need to tell you all the real story—maybe, if he wants to, and if you want to know.” Heep and Susanna started to protest. They wanted to share, to see if they could help. “No, really, I am not sure you would want to know.” Pero sat up, changing the subject. “How are Nancy and Tom doing? They want to bug out yet?”
Heep understood Pero’s diversion to normal business and answered, “I think we should release our assistants if you have other plans. No point in involving them. Want me to arrange it?”
Pero wasn’t sure. For some reason he clung to the idea that they could continue filming, get back to a normal life. “No, they’re safe and being paid. Let’s wait a day.” He hung his head. “I dunno what to think or what the next step is.”
Susanna and Heep had never seen Pero indecisive this way. They looked at each other, and Heep raised his eyebrows in a look of concern. Susanna took charge. “Okay, look, Liebling, you are no use to anyone so tired. Schlafen while you can, and we’ll wake you when Mbuno gets back.” Susanna and Heep left the bedroom after they showed Pero that the walkie-talkie was on and they could hear him if needed.
Once back in Heep’s room, Susanna said, “Do you know how to work that thing?” She indicated the cardboard box. Heep said he thought so. “Good. Maybe it is time for Mr. Lewis to be helpful for a change.”
“Okay, but let’s wait for Mary to get back. We’re a team; let’s keep it that way as much as we can without telling everyone. I am sorry we cannot talk safely with Wolfie; he’
s been a rock.”
Although Susanna knew that Heep had radioed Wolfie to say that the three were back with “the missing party,” she wasn’t sure if the shortwave radio broadcasts to Oasis Lodge in Loiyangalani were a good idea anymore. She looked at the box. “Do you think they would have another one of those we can borrow?”
Heep smacked his forehead. “No, not this one, but a satellite phone? Sure. They’re illegal here in Kenya without a special permit, but I’ll be damned if I can’t get one to Wolfie by tomorrow morning. I’ll handle it.” He went to the phone and made two calls. Within the hour, the brother of Sheryl at Flamingo Tours who was the head security man for the United Nations Missions in East Africa drove his personal satellite phone to Mara Airways, and Sheila handed it to the two pilots, still on standby. They would take off at first light, about five hours later; there was no way to land at Loiyangalani in the dark. While Heep had Sheila on the phone, he begged her to call Tone to make sure that he and Mbuno did not enter the lobby. They were to go to the servant’s entrance and ask for Mr. Janardan. Sheila was concerned, but Heep assured her it was just Pero being overly cautious. Hopefully.
Heep told Susanna a satellite phone was being arranged just as Mary came back. Mary confirmed that Mr. Janardan was posting hall porters around to watch the two blond men who were still there and, within the hour, make them go away. Mary said, “Germans, if I ever saw any. Blond specimens, good tans, though. Sorry Susanna, but that Aryan look always bothers me.”
Susanna understood. “Me too, it is what we all fight against, to stop it happening again. It is what Tacitus said . . .”
Heep said, “Who?”
“Tacitus, the Roman historian. He said in fifty-six AD that such Goths are like a bramble across the path of civilization that, every once in a while, needs to be cut back.” She laughed, and Heep and Mary joined in. “Okay, now let’s get some food up here, many sandwiches and fruit. He will be hungry when he wakes. And when Mbuno comes, we better have toast and honey, too. I hope I get to meet Niamba.”
Mary dialed room service, Heep turned on the TV to listen for news, and they waited. No one tried to use the phone in the cardboard box.
The news that Ube was awake, speaking, and sitting up came as a great relief. Tone explained that it was Niamba who had woken him. First, she had thrown stones from her ceremonial enkidong. Tone and Bob had watched, fascinated. In a whisper, Tone explained, “An enkidong is simple—just a gourd, filled with bits of stone and glass. Some of these spiritual gourds are hundreds of years old. But, Bob, all are very serious mystic medicine. Each is personally chosen for qualities only a liabon—the tribal doctor like Niamba, powerful people—can be trusted to divine. They know the power of the casting of the enkidong is determined by the gods who act through the liabon.” Bob was watching, rapt, as Niamba chanted and swirled the gourd over a hide painted with symbols and markings she had spread on Ube’s bed. Nurses also looked on, fascinated. Tone continued, “The gourd is filled with stones, little pebbles, marbles, bone chips—anything the liabon feels will help her read the signs.”
Niamba had poured the stones out steadily, not daring to lose her magic connection with the gods. She could feel power flowing through her. The stones rumbled out of the enkidong, rolled around on the hide, and made a straight line, the only quartz stone and the only pink stone pointing to her left. She had gasped.
Only once before had she seen such a thing. The stones and beads were individually uneven, not totally round, and yet they had perfectly aligned themselves, pointing directly at Mbuno. All saw it. There was not a sound in the room.
Niamba then moved them, one at a time, flicked this bead and that pebble, choosing those that some premonition told her to touch. The multicolored beads and stones rolled randomly on the smooth reverse side of the hide and one by one came to rest with the flicked pebbles and bits of glass, forming a cluster that circled seven bright blue beads that were grouped together—the only blue beads on the hide.
Niamba knew what this said in her heart and mind, but she had to impart the mystic reading to her husband and for Ube’s benefit. She proclaimed, “Only Mbuno and the wanaume na wanawake”—(those who help rescue)—“peke yake.” (Can stop the killing.) “Wanaume saba na wanawake.” (Seven men and women alone.) “Only then will people be saved.” She then took one of the center pebbles and placed it on Ube’s chest, pressing it into the skin, making a dent, then took some power from her medicine pouch and blew it over his face and torso.
Awakening, suddenly, Ube’s voice trembled as his head fell back on the pillow, eyes darting around the room, “Niko wapi mama, Laiboni?” (Where am I, mother doctor?)
“Wewe ni Salaama, kuamka.” (You are safe; now wake up.) “Aga Khan Hospital, Nairobi,” she whispered to him. Nurses ran to get the doctor.
Ube looked toward Mbuno and Tone and spotted Bob standing there. Bob had been his client. Ube wanted to stand, but Niamba and a nurse forced him back. “I am so very sorry, Mr. Bob, for the trouble. I am pleased to see you got back to Nairobi in safety.”
Bob was grinning. “Thanks to you, man, thanks to you. And a little help from the Mzee here.”
Mbuno waved. Ube bowed his head. “Nasikitika, baba.” (I am sorry, Father.)
Mbuno replied, “Hakuna. Wewe kufanya mimi fahari, nasikitika ilichukua sisi kwa muda mrefu.” (No. You make me proud. I am sorry it took us so long.)
As the doctor entered to examine Ube, Ube looked at Tone and suddenly had a thought. “The brothers, Teddy and Keriako, they are safe?”
Hearing their names and guessing from the nurses’ and doctors’ commotion that something was up, both men poked their heads around the door. Seeing Ube awake, Teddy started keening, his wailing sound echoing off the hospital corridor walls. Keriako called out, again and again, “Furaha! Furaha!” (Happy! Happy!) Ube beamed, which made his broken nose hurt, but he still waved to them both.
Aware that they were making a ruckus in the normally quiet hospital, Tone decided to take charge and ushered everyone except Niamba out, though he kept the door open. The doctor went over Ube, checked vital signs, and discussed possible treatment. Everyone crowded in the doorway, awaiting news.
Tone was not sure what the hospital should treat Ube for, so he asked, “Doctor, any idea what he was given? What can you do?”
The doctor, an Italian, said that the lab tests had come back and it was clear that Ube had been given a dose of unprocessed, raw, cocaine resin. Without the excellent care that Bob had administered, Ube could have soon gone into convulsions, shock, and certain death.
Ube understood some of it, especially the part about Bob treating him. But where, when? Ube thought. He looked perplexed, and Tone came over and patted his arm, saying, “Take it easy. They’ll tell you everything, but wait until the good doctor here says you can get up.”
The Italian doctor laughed. “Get up? As far as I can see, he’s fine. He needs to rest for a day or two, watch that broken nose, eat carefully”—he looked at Niamba—“and I’ll leave his medical care to my fellow doctor here. Clearly, she knows more than I do.” Niamba nodded her agreement. “Let’s have him stay here only until I can get a urine sample for analysis.” He checked the saline IV and saw it was nearly empty. “Should be any moment now.” He reached into his white smock and handed Niamba a yellow plastic jar with a green lid. “In this please, doctor. Just hand it to the nurse when full.” He glanced down at his medical clipboard. “Anyway, the blood work looks fine.” He shined a pencil light into Ube’s eyes. “Eyes clear.” He took Ube’s head in his hands and gently moved it about. “Any dizziness?” Ube said no. “Okay then, urine sample first, get dressed, and go home. Your private doctor is in charge,” he said, smiling. The doctor’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Now, stop bothering me. I have sick people who need me.”
In under an hour, the brothers, Tone, Mbuno, Niamba, and Ube, who rolled to the curb in a wheelchair, piled into the Flamingo Tours van. Tone’s cell phone beeped. He read the
text message and announced, “Seems we may have observers at the Interconti. The back entrance is where we are going. All aboard.”
Twenty minutes later, Tone pulled the van into the service bay at the back of the hotel, told the guard to close the door, and asked for Mr. Janardan. Mr. Janardan was waiting and immediately whisked them up the service stairs to the fourth floor. Tone knocked on Pero and Susanna’s door and was surprised when a sleepy Pero in a hotel towel robe answered. Tone asked if Mr. Janardan knew the other room numbers where the rest were located, and Mr. Janardan pointed to the doors opposite and next to Pero’s. Tone tapped on them all. People came out and started hugging everyone, even the still-filthy Bob and Mbuno.
Mr. Janardan looked at the ex-Marine, saw the state of his clothing, and said “Welcome to the Interconti, Mr. Hines. It is Mr. Hines, I presume?” Bob nodded. “Ah, good. At least you are not, I would say, quite as muddy as Mr. Baltazar was, but we shall have laundry service all night should you require. Your room is four-oh-six, just there.” He pointed further along the corridor. “I will have a key sent up immediately.” With that he turned and left, taking the service stairs down. The askari still on duty saluted as he went past.
Niamba and Susanna were greeting each other warmly, and Niamba was stroking Susanna’s hair in comfort, turning some of it on her finger. When Pero looked at his friends gathered together and the genuine happiness they shared at Ube’s safe return, his spirits rose again. But he was worried about Bob and Mbuno. As he hugged Niamba, he whispered, “I had many leeches, you know the bloodsuckers?” Niamba nodded. “Maybe you can check Bob and Mbuno?”