Leopard! It sounded so close, only yards away. “Alex?”
“Yes?”
“Do you have a gun?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you know how to use it?”
“Of course.”
She smiled in the darkness. “Good.”
* * *
THE SHADOWS OF DEATH loomed closer and closer. Louis was dead and buried, his bones forever resting in Africa, not the ending he would have wanted, but so much of life depended on chance and opportunity.
His death was unfortunate but necessary. In the end, I knew he wouldn’t simply hand over his prize. He would protect what he had stolen. But would he, too, have killed for it?
The answer came softly on the night air, like the moaning of a cypress as it bent with the wind.
Chapter Six
“Bon matin, Dana.”
The voice was soft and caressing against her earlobe.
But Dana wasn’t interested in lulling tones. She was still exhausted; she needed more than one night’s sleep to make up for what she’d missed. She closed her eyes tightly and scrunched lower into her sleeping bag.
“Get up, Dana. The sun got up half an hour ago. Time for you to do the same.”
She groaned and cuddled into a ball. “Just a little while longer,” she begged.
“No.” His voice was more insistent now. “It’s not time to sleep; it’s time to leave.” He tugged at the sleeping bag, and a shaft of sunlight hit her in the face.
“Turn off the light!” she demanded.
Alex moved to the opening of the tent and held back the flap. “Five seconds and you’re up—or I dump you in the river, sleeping bag and all.”
“Okay, okay.” Dana crawled out, pushed past Alex into the sun, grimacing under its brightness. She was sore and stiff; she ached in places where she never knew she had muscles. “I smell coffee,” she said, beginning to wake up.
“But you don’t get any—”
“What?”
“Until you get yourself together.” He thrust a canteen of water and a towel at her. “I’ll have the tent down in five minutes. You have the same amount of time to get ready. Then a quick cup of coffee, and we’re back on the river.”
She pushed her hair out of her face, rubbed her eyes and looked up at him. To Dana’s surprise, he seemed tired, too. And worried. The teasing look had disappeared from his eyes, replaced by concern. Tense lines of anxiety outlined his mouth. He wore the same clothes he’d slept in, and they were as wrinkled and creased as her own.
Now wasn’t the time to argue, she decided. “I’ll hurry.” She grabbed her toothbrush and cosmetic kit and headed to her private toilet behind the bushes. At the far end of the clearing, she’d created her own little bathroom the night before. After taking care of the needs of nature, she moved toward a semicircle of bushes where she quickly set up a dressing room. She pulled off her shorts and T-shirt, sloshed herself with water, toweled off and then put on the same wrinkled clothes. At least she was clean underneath.
She ran a brush through her matted hair, getting out the worst tangles, and tied it away from her face. After brushing her teeth, Dana applied a little blush and lipstick from her cosmetic kit, then laughed. Her hands were blistered, her hair was matted and dirty, her clothes were wrinkled and damp. And here she was, putting on makeup!
As she started toward camp, she rehearsed in her mind her speech to Alex. She was going to tell him calmly but firmly that theirs was a partnership. She was tired of being ordered around. He wasn’t a marine sergeant; she wasn’t a recruit, even if she had been recruited into this harebrained scheme.
Lost in thought, she was confused when she heard voices, or believed she did. Impossible, she decided, trudging on. Then she realized the voices weren’t in her mind. Someone was at the camp with Alex. Instinctively, she dropped to her knees, crawled forward and peered through a tangle of vines. She saw the imposing figure of Jean Luc Kantana striding into camp.
His gun drawn, Kantana was accompanied by another man in uniform, who carried a rifle. Alex stood perfectly still near the ashes of the fire, his eyes on the two men.
Dana realized that she was shaking like a leaf. She tried to calm herself, but it was impossible. Her throat was so dry she could hardly swallow, and she was sure that the men could hear the pounding of her heart. This was the end. Soon the police would come after her and find her, drag her back to Porte Ivoire. Her jailbreak would convince Kantana of her guilt.
Dana held her breath. She could feel the perspiration pop out on her forehead as she listened to Kantana’s angry voice.
Speaking in rapid French, he denounced Alex for masterminding the jailbreak of the American murderess, as he called Dana. In flowery rhetoric, Kantana berated Alex for letting him down, humiliating him. He’d been betrayed by a friend, and he planned retribution when they returned to Porte Ivoire. There, Alex would look forward to a very long jail sentence.
The long diatribe was followed by Alex’s denial that she was with him. Kantana laughed at that.
“We have Victor’s testimony that you overpowered him to break the American out of jail. I imagine she was your accomplice when Monsieur Longongo was attacked. The woman is with you now, my friend. I will find her and personally escort her—and you—back to jail.”
Dana felt her stomach rise into her throat. For a moment she thought she was going to be sick. But she held back the nausea. Now was the time to act. But how? She could flee into the rain forest alone, leaving Alex to his fate—and last about a day without food, supplies or a gun.
She buried her head in her hands. What could she do—rush Kantana, distract him, make a commotion? And then what? Dana heaved a sigh.
Maybe she should turn herself in, beg for mercy.
She looked through the vines and saw Kantana’s face. Cold. Hard. Implacable. Totally without mercy. No, dammit, she wasn’t going to give herself over to that policeman. Dana felt as though a cold icy hand had grasped her throat. She forced herself to breathe slowly, relax, think. If she couldn’t give up, what could she do?
While she searched her mind for an answer, she heard Alex talking, asking about Victor, reacting to Kantana’s arrogance easily. He was buying time for her. But for what? What did he expect her to do?
She closed her eyes and prayed for inspiration. She felt like a novice, here on the banks of the Lomami, but maybe she wasn’t. Even though her hands were blistered from paddling, she was actually far from inexperienced; she knew how to handle a boat. She’d spent her childhood summers canoeing with her brothers in the Colorado mountains. They were experts, and she’d soaked up all their knowledge. “My three water babies,” her mother had called them.
Those skills might be the answer! Dana turned and began to crawl through the undergrowth toward the river.
What had seemed like an hour, while she’d watched Kantana and tried to formulate a plan, had been only a matter of minutes. They were still arguing—Kantana and Alex—as she made her way to the river, at first crawling and then, when her arm muscles began to shake from fear and tension, wriggling on her stomach, trying not to think of what else might be lurking in the jungle foliage.
She smelled the river before she saw it, ripe, fecund, fertile. There it was—no more than ten feet away. Cautiously, she peered over the tall grass and saw Kantana’s boat, tied near the canoe. It was an old outboard, almost identical to the first one her brothers had owned when she was a child.
As she steeled herself for what she had to do, Dana heard something rustling in the bushes close to her. She held her breath, willing herself not to make a sound, determined not to scream. She remembered Alex’s words. Animals were afraid of humans. They wouldn’t bother her if she didn’t bother them. She remained still and silent, frozen in the moment, waiting for the animal attack that never came.
Stifling a sob, she began to creep again, silently, through the grass. Alex had been right, she admitted. Then she heard another rustling, closer
than before. She stopped again, waiting. She was frightened of what might be lurking there. But she was much more frightened of Kantana. She couldn’t let him catch her; she couldn’t go back to that jail. Ever.
Dana squirmed quickly to the riverbank and dropped over the edge into the water, never looking back. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes, waiting for whatever had been in the brush to dive in after her—or for the sharp teeth of a croc to clamp around her legs. Nothing happened. A few yards away, the water lapped indolently against the boat. Moving as silently as possible, she slid toward it, keeping the boat between her and the view from camp. She had a plan—of sorts—and it was time to put it into action.
She reached the boat and grabbed hold at the stern. The propeller was pulled up, out of the shallow water; the boat’s bottom rested firmly on the mud. Cautiously, she looked over the side of the boat. It was amazing, she thought, how familiar it was, complete with the same wooden seats, plastic flotation cushions, paddles in case of emergency and the extra can of gasoline. The boat brought back many memories of long, lazy summers at the river. Kurt and Andy had started out with one similar to this and moved on to more sophisticated types. When she was old enough, Dana inherited the old motorboat.
And she learned everything about it. Including what made it go and what made it stop. Now was the time to make it stop. Without pausing to consider her decision, Dana inhaled deeply and dove underwater.
She snaked her hand along bottom of the boat near the propeller, searching for the gas line. The water was thick and murky. She couldn’t see anything; all she could do was feel. She moved her hand backward and forward, expecting to find the rubbery plastic tube. Weeds wrapped around her as she flailed aimlessly. Her lungs about to burst, she kept searching, sure the line was close, within her reach.
Finally, unable to hold her breath any longer, she went up for air. Stupid, she told herself. Any idiot would be able to find the gas line within seconds, even in the muck and weeds. Now, when time was everything, she was wasting it. At this point, Kantana was probably ready to send his aide in search of her.
After a moment of mental hysteria, she got her act together, dove again and was immediately successful. Her hand felt the line, and her heart skipped a beat. Summoning all her energy, she grabbed hold and pulled downward.
It was done, but it wasn’t enough. Eventually, Kantana and his aide might be able to repair the line, refill the tank and get underway again. She had to do more.
Crouching low in the water, she made her way to the bow and found the anchor rope, secured to a large rock. All she had to do was tug the rope loose and push the boat out into the current.
The rope slid silently into the water and bobbled on the surface before it sank. Dana leaned her weight against the boat and attempted to edge it toward the open water. It didn’t budge. A couple of strong men could’ve moved it easily; she’d seen her brothers make the maneuver in a matter of seconds. She lacked the strength.
A sob rose in her throat. Even if a miracle occurred and she and Alex managed to overpower Kantana and his henchman, they’d be fools to leave the police with any means of pursuit. She had to move it. Turning around, she put her back and shoulders against the boat and braced her feet on the bank. She took a deep breath, counted to three and with every muscle straining, pushed.
Nothing. The muscles in her legs trembled from exertion; her heart pounded like an anvil. She wanted to scream in frustration and anger. Instead, she took another deep breath and pushed again, feeling the burn throughout her body. It paid off. There was slight movement. She tried again and felt the boat slowly inch away. She heard the scraping noise of wood against the muddy bottom of the river, and suddenly the motorboat was free, caught in the strong current of the Lomami. She guided it past the canoe toward the open water and with one final push watched it float away.
Quickly, she swam for cover in the grass by the bank and waited.
Only moments later she heard a voice crying out, “Le bateau! Le bateau!” Kantana’s aide came charging toward the riverbank, waving his arms and shouting incoherently as the boat slid by. Kantana remained at the campsite, his gun still aimed at Alex. Under other circumstances, she would have found the situation overwhelmingly humorous—a portly policeman chasing a runaway boat, shouting curses at it in French. But she was too scared and tired to laugh. She had to worry about her next move.
Peering through the grass, she watched Kantana, who eyed Alex suspiciously. He must have known this wasn’t an accident, but he was getting no affirmation from Alex, whose expression was innocent, almost bemused. She knew that the two men wouldn’t be alone for long. As soon as the deputy discovered that their boat was irretrievable, he’d be back. It was now or never.
Dana understood what she had to do, but she didn’t work out any details, make any plan. If she stopped to do that, even for a moment, it would be too late—and she would be paralyzed with fear. She moved instinctively.
As she charged through the grass toward them, she saw Alex’s eyes widen in surprise. That look lasted less than a millisecond before his forehead creased, his lips tightened and his body tensed in preparation. In that instant, she knew he would do whatever it took to make her foolhardy attack work.
Kantana heard her coming and whirled toward the sound, his gun ready, aimed directly at her. It seemed to Dana as if she was moving in slow motion through a nightmare in which she ran and ran but made no progress. Her feet were mired in cement; she was going nowhere. Alex, too, seemed to move in slow motion, his body tensed, poised and then floating through the air toward Kantana.
The two men collided with a horrible thud. The sergeant tried to stay upright, but Alex grabbed his gun arm and wrestled him to the ground. As they rolled over, first one of them on top and then the other, Dana looked around frantically for a weapon of some kind. At the edge of the campsite she saw what was left of the wood they’d gathered for the fire. She grabbed the thickest piece and rushed toward the two fighting men, brandishing her makeshift club.
Now everything sped up, fast forwarding within her nightmare, out of control. Dana moved through it, frantically following the men as they rolled on the ground, grunting and cursing. She saw the glint of the gun, still in Kantana’s hand. Alex had caught his arm at the wrist and held him like a vise, banging it against the ground, but Kantana wouldn’t release the gun. His curses filled the air.
Dana raised her club and then, just as they rolled over again with Kantana on top, she closed her eyes and brought it down with all the force she possessed. It caught Kantana on the shoulder just inches from Alex’s head. The sergeant screamed in pain and dropped the gun.
“Pick it up,” Alex rasped as he rolled over on Kantana.
Stupefied by what she’d done, Dana stood, numb, looking at the two men. If her club had come down an inch or two on the other side, she would have knocked Alex out. She was panicked by the thought of that near catastrophe.
Then Alex’s words came to her again through the fog of thought. “Dammit, Dana, get the gun.”
She picked it up and held it in both hands, unsteadily. Shaking all over, she attempted to point the gun at Kantana.
“No!” Alex yelled. He had the policeman in a neck hold, arms locked behind his back. “Don’t aim that thing or you’ll kill us both. Just get his cuffs.”
“What?” Dana stared at Alex.
“The handcuffs. They’re on his belt. Hurry, Dana. I can’t hold him forever.”
Kantana continued to kick and struggle as she scrabbled to unhook the cuffs from his belt. Together, she and Alex handcuffed him, and then Dana sank to the ground, head in her hands, while Alex held the gun on Jean Luc Kantana.
“You’re doing great,” he praised her. “Just great. But don’t fold on me now. We have to take care of Jean Luc’s toady when he gets back. Then we’ll get the hell out.”
Kantana struggled to a seated position on the ground. He shook his head in an apparent daze. “It won’t be that easy, Ale
x. Perhaps you get away this time, but I will follow.” His eyes shifted to Dana. “And for the mademoiselle, if you come with us now, you may have a chance. But if you run with this man, your guilt becomes even more. When we catch you, which we will, all will go very hard for you.”
“I’m not guilty,” Dana said, lifting her chin and pushing her wet, clinging hair from her face. “And I wouldn’t be able to get fair treatment in Porte Ivoire. Certainly not now.”
“You are flouting the law, mademoiselle, and you will be sorry...very sorry.”
Kantana was right about that. Dana was regretful already. About everything. But she was in so deep, there was no turning back, nothing to do but see it through to the end.
They heard footsteps trampling through the brush in the distance. “Keep it quiet,” Alex warned Kantana. “I want to take him by surprise.”
“You won’t kill me, Alex,” Kantana said, “even if I call out to warn him. We have been friends too long.”
“Maybe I won’t kill you, but I could hurt you, Jean Luc. As for your buddy, I’ll kill him without a moment’s hesitation. He and I are not friends. So I suggest you keep silent.”
Dana staggered to her feet. She believed every word that Alex said. He would shoot. Kantana must have believed him, too, for he was quiet as his deputy straggled into camp, shouting that the boat had vanished around a bend in the river. Then he saw them. He stopped short, looked at his rifle but didn’t raise it. Alex had him covered.
“Drop the gun and hold out your hands. The lady will handcuff you, and you’ll join your boss.”
Somehow it all happened as Alex said even though Kantana continued trying to convince Dana that she was making a terrible mistake going with Alex. She made a determined effort not to listen.
Once the two policemen were side by side on the ground, she and Alex were free to leave, and he was giving orders again. “Grab our gear, Dana. We’ll pack the canoe and get out of here.”
“And leave them—like this? They could die.”
“She is correct,” Kantana cut in smoothly. “And surely mademoiselle knows the penalty for killing a police officer.”
Tall, Dark and Deadly Page 10