by Amber Hart
“And what about you, Clovis?” I ask. “You’ll have no way of knowing I’ve left. They’ll radio Mr. Tondjii and you will be with him in the jungle when he receives the news. He’ll kill you.”
Clovis sets the bag down next to me, a strained look on his face. “Pack, Raven. Don’t worry about me. I will keep a close watch on him. I’ll make sure I’m the one with the walkie-talkie. If the news comes in over the speaker, I’ll run.”
I’m worried for Clovis. Yet I don’t know any other way to get Mrs. Tondjii alone.
“It’s okay if this is too much, Clovis. We can think of something else.”
But the truth is that we don’t have much more time to think. Jospin was right when he said his father would eventually grow tired of me. I hadn’t told him it was already happening.
“I’ll be fine,” Clovis says as I get up to pack what little belongings I have. “What time do you want to do this?”
“What’s the best time for a distraction?” I reply.
“Dinnertime,” Clovis says.
“Will Mr. Tondjii come down?”
Some days he does. Some days he doesn’t.
“Yes, he’ll come down tonight to discuss tomorrow’s hunt,” Clovis says.
He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a gun and a knife to hand to me.
I pocket the knife and slip the gun into my pants. Some of the clothes given to me by the housekeepers when I arrived don’t fit exactly right. The gun pinches my skin.
“Be careful, Raven. Keep weapons on you just in case. Don’t be afraid to use them.”
“Okay,” I say, though I do feel nervous at the prospect of things going wrong, of me actually having to use the knife or gun on a poacher. Or, even worse, on Mrs. Tondjii. “Can you call Mr. Tondjii deep into the woods? I need an hour.”
“You’ll have thirty minutes.”
“Fifty minutes,” I barter.
“Forty is the best I can do,” Clovis argues. “I’d rather you be safe.”
At this, I relent. “Deal.”
“Tonight,” Clovis says.
Like a promise.
Or a death sentence.
—
I didn’t expect things to go so smoothly, but it works. Clovis sends a message that he has spotted Jospin, and everyone—including Mr. Tondjii—springs into action. I waste no time cutting through the halls, up two flights of stairs, and to the door of Mr. and Mrs. Tondjii’s room. I’ve brought a tray of food with me, an excuse to enter.
I don’t hesitate. I am go, go, go. I cannot overthink it, my gut tells me. Do what needs to be done and, if all else fails, run.
Thoughts creep in anyway. There are so many men; one or two of them could easily come back. What if they suspect something, change their minds, and return? I am just this one person with this one plan, and if that goes wrong…
I crack open the bedroom door slowly. Take a moment to peek around, make sure there aren’t guards I missed.
There is. Just one.
He’s a few feet away, near another door. I realize I’m in some sort of entryway, which feels like a holding cell. The guard hasn’t seen me, because he’s cleaning his gun, his posture tilted away from me. If he looks to the right, he will spot me.
“Hi,” I say, bubbly. He looks up with a start. “I have food for Mrs. Tondjii, since the boys had to leave.” I have no idea if he speaks English.
He gets up. Takes the tray from my hands. Moves the food around with a fork, inspecting it carefully. When satisfied, he nods and lets me pass. I don’t look back as I open the door and enter the Tondjiis’ personal quarters.
It’s nothing short of exquisite. A rounded chandelier with clear jewel pendants hangs over a bed draped in royal-purple silk. A Grecian marble statue stands by the side of the bed, eyes cast to the ceiling as if she’s admiring the chandelier too. The walls are wrapped in wallpaper embossed with swirls and lines, dressed in oil paintings.
Mrs. Tondjii is sitting at an L-shaped desk, holding a picture. She sets it facedown when she sees me, teetering as she stands.
“Hello, Raven,” she says.
She attempts a smile. It is nothing like the smile she gave when I first met her. She’s wearing pajamas, as if she couldn’t be bothered with dressing for the day, or maybe she’s calling it an early night.
“I brought food.”
I step closer. Wait for her to respond.
Mrs. Tondjii’s skin glistens in the light, and I wonder if she’s sweating. But the fan is on, so that’s unlikely.
“Is everything all right?” I ask, noticing the bags under her eyes.
“Just fine,” she answers.
“You should eat,” I offer.
“I don’t want to eat,” she says. “But thank you.”
I walk to the desk and set the tray down. I peer into Mrs. Tondjii’s eyes. They are Jospin’s eyes.
“I am sorry about your son,” I say.
She makes a noise of protest and bites her lip as though she’s trying to stop a sob.
“I know his banishment must hurt.”
This time she does sob.
I pretend it’s not Jospin that I’m talking about. I pretend for the sake of my mask that I’m just being helpful.
“I miss him terribly,” she admits.
And I think I’ve made the right decision to trust in her. But before I say anything, I want to be sure.
“Would you like me to put your picture away?” I say, making a move to grab it.
Mrs. Tondjii rushes over. Grabs the picture before I can, but it’s too late. I saw. The picture is of Jospin.
“No,” she says, pulling the frame close. “I’ll do it.”
“Mrs. Tondjii,” I say, hesitant. I take a deep breath. “What if you could see your son again? Would you?”
Her eyes water. “In an instant. But that is not possible.”
“What if—” I brace myself. “What if I told you that he was okay and that you could see him again?”
Mrs. Tondjii inhales sharply, gripping the picture more firmly. She watches me, studying my eyes.
“What if I told you that you could look into his deep-brown eyes again and listen to him laughing in short, happy bursts?” I picture Jospin in my mind. “What if you could watch him eat three coconuts in one sitting or create a perfectly balanced knife? What if you could hug him just once more?”
“How,” Mrs. Tondjii says, struggling to steady her shaking voice, “do you know his eyes are brown or that he hand-makes weapons or that…”
She trails off. Setting the picture down on the desk, she takes a few steps toward me.
“If you know something, Raven,” she says, a tear falling, “speak.”
I’m not sure yet if I can trust her. I’m not positive how she will react. Everything I’ve said to this point could have been told to me by Clovis. I still have a way out, if I need to take it.
I stay quiet, hoping she will give me a clue as to whether I should continue.
“I would do anything”—she stifles another sob—“absolutely anything, to see my son again. Please, Raven, if you know something, tell me.”
“What if what I know could be dangerous?” I ask, risking it. “Would you still do anything for Jospin?”
I try not to let any emotion out while I say his name, but I fail. She has noticed the way my voice catches on his name. I wonder if she sees him in her mind the same way I do, smiling and happy.
“I do not care what it takes,” she replies. “Does the reason you are here have anything to do with my son, Raven? Because you should know that Jospin is more important to me than anything: this pack, this house, this money. All of it.”
“More important even than your husband?” I ask.
Mrs. Tondjii looks conflicted. “I love my husband, Raven. But lately the things that have happened…If I had to choose, I would choose my son.”
“You’re sure?”
“Completely.”
I let down my guard. “I do know Jospin,
yes. He is alive. He is well. I need your help, though. Clovis and I need your help.”
And for the first time, Mrs. Tondjii smiles. A sob breaks free and she hugs me. “I knew something was off—Clovis bringing you here, my son gone, the way you always seem to be watching things around you, constantly on guard.” She pulls back to look me in the eyes. “Are you the reason my son was absent more than usual before his banishment?”
Had he been? We did spend a lot of time together.
“Most likely,” I reply.
Mrs. Tondjii looks toward the door, as though worried that someone might hear. “Raven, please sit.” She pulls the desk chair out for me and takes a seat opposite it in a decorative chair. “Will you explain how you know my son and what is really going on here?”
“I’ll tell you what I know, but we don’t have much time,” I say. “Jospin, Clovis, and I need information on the pack. Incriminating evidence—sales figures and buyers and contact information. How they use the canning business as a cover.”
I pause to gauge her reaction. She watches me intently, waiting.
“We need it in order to get Jospin away from where he is and to get Clovis and me out of here.”
“And what will become of my husband and the men here?” she asks in a soft voice.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
There’s a chance they’ll go to prison. They will lose their business. I don’t know if her husband will go peacefully. I think much of it remains to be seen, mostly depending on how he reacts to his empire being shut down.
“Will you help us?” I ask tentatively. “Can you tell me where the papers are?”
She clasps her hands together in her lap, finally looking a little like the elegant woman I first met, as if the news of Jospin’s safety has lifted her spirits. “I don’t know where my husband keeps such information. But I will do everything I can to find it. I can attempt to get close enough to the business side of the pack to help you.”
“Thank you,” I say.
Relief floods through me. Mrs. Tondjii will help us. She loves and misses her son enough to betray the man she married. I remember something that Clovis told me, about some of the marriages in the pack being for an heir rather than for love. I’m not sure that Mr. Tondjii’s is, per se, but I do know that the business comes first for him. Just as Jospin comes first for Mrs. Tondjii.
I can only hope she stays true to her word.
—
Clovis returns about twenty minutes after I finish my mission. “How’d it go?” he asks in the safety of our room.
“She took our side.”
I explain everything to Clovis—careful to retrace each detail. He listens raptly. When I tell him how Mrs. Tondjii agreed to help us, Clovis interrupts.
“She could be lying,” he says.
“I thought of that,” I admit. “But we packed a bag. We’re armed. If anything seems off, we’ll run.”
I finish telling him how Mrs. Tondjii promised to try to get closer to the specific dealings of the illegal trade.
“All we can do is wait,” I conclude. “She needs time. Do you think we should trust her?”
Clovis twists his dreads and peers up at the ceiling, deliberating. “We’ve come this far.”
I wonder about Mr. Tondjii and how he reacted to not catching Jospin.
“Did Mr. Tondjii buy your fake sighting?” I ask.
“He did.” The confirmation is a weight off my chest. “He thinks Jospin got away.”
Hopefully soon we will too.
Chapter 28
Jospin
There’s something calming and magical about the forest at night. Here, I am nothing and everything. I am not Jospin the once-poacher or Jospin the disowned. Here I am the whistling wind when it slips between tree branches. I am the dull moonlight on millions of leaves.
I take the trail I know by heart. I think of the cottage I used to own. I remember many nights waking up to grab a drink of water or use the bathroom in the dark. I knew just where the couch and ottoman sat. The table, TV stand, and barstools too. I had every corner and angle memorized. Much like this jungle. I navigate the forest with little or no light. I duck under branches. I weave through trees. I avoid the part of the jungle where briars are the thickest. I make sure to pass around the small pond that nocturnal animals visit.
When I clear the densest part of the forest, I am bathed in moonlight once again. Under a beam of pale light, I reach the waterfall. Raven isn’t here yet; we agreed to meet, but I don’t know how she will escape the compound at night, especially with my father always watching.
I feel a grin start to form when I think about it. My Raven is brilliant. She infiltrated an entire poaching pack and passed herself off as an ally. She’s convinced them that she’s not a threat—for now. And I have no idea how she possibly did this, but I’m so proud. Or I would be so proud if I weren’t also extremely worried about her.
Swoosh.
The fluttering of wings all at once announces that birds are leaving because something is approaching.
Footsteps follow, and I know that Raven is here. Her pale hair is the first thing I see, highlighted by moonlight. Clovis walks beside her, and stops when they are finally near.
“I’m going around the back of the waterfall,” Clovis tells her. “To guard where you can’t.”
It’s a smart move, to protect our backs. Raven and I can keep an eye and ear on the forest in front of us, and even off to the sides, but we cannot see behind us, where the waterfall plunges off a rocky cliff into a pool. This is where Clovis will go to watch for enemies. It’s exactly what I would have done.
“Thanks,” she says, and watches him leave for a moment before turning back to the pool.
She scans the area, trying to find me. Then she does, I know, because a smile lights her face and she switches track a little, moving to the left to reach me where I sit on a rock, waiting for her. And once again I am proud, because it was a test. I wanted to see how well Raven is doing. I try to ignore the stab of jealousy I feel over the fact that Clovis is the one teaching her so well; instead, I concentrate on the fact that Raven just found me in a pocket of darkness.
I stand and step into a splinter of moonlight. “How did you know my exact location?” I ask.
“Your knife,” she says, her smile widening. “I saw the glint of your knife.”
I glance down to my boot, where the hilt of my knife gleams just slightly.
“Clovis has taught you well.”
“He really has,” she agrees.
With Raven standing in front of me, I notice how tightly her jeans fit her, how her shirt hangs loosely on her shoulders. Brown boots lace up to her knees. Pale hair hangs freely down her back. Her skin is more distinct in the night, reflecting the moonlight, whereas I blend in—brown cargo pants and a matching shirt. Tan boots and three knives.
“You look beautiful tonight,” I say.
Her hand rests on my stomach and slowly starts up my body. When it hits the key that hangs from my neck under my shirt, I remember what I wanted to ask her.
“Did you know someone named Jean?”
The poachers are ruining the jungle. Raven used to love it here. She used to understand that gorillas need to be saved. I wonder what she’s doing at home. I wonder if she and Jean are still friends.
Raven’s expression changes, worry creasing her brow. “I never knew anyone named Jean until your father.”
That’s when my suspicions are confirmed.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been reading your father’s notebook that you left under your pillow at the habitat. Some of the words have dots over the top. I think they are a message to you. I’ve written them down. I’m trying to unscramble it.”
“I don’t mind. What does the note say so far?” she asks eagerly. “Do you have it with you?”
“I don’t know what it says.” There are so many word combinations that even if I do put together something coherent, it st
ill may be wrong. It still may not be the exact message he meant to leave. “I didn’t think to bring it with me, but I’ll be sure to next time.”
Raven nods. “Thank you.”
Her gaze, bottomless and deep, falls over me. All of me.
“We don’t have much time,” she whispers. “Come with me.”
I follow her to the edge of the water.
“Will you swim with me?” she asks.
But I worry about her being wet in the chill of the night. “It’s too cold for your clothes to be soaked, Raven.”
She grins. “I never said anything about clothes.”
In one smooth motion, she pulls her shirt over her head and tosses it aside on a dry rock. I watch the way Raven bends to grab her bootlaces, pulling them undone. Fingers go to her pants button next; she removes those too. I love the sight of Raven in nothing but her bra and underwear.
“Join me?” she asks with a grin.
I remove my boots, pants, and shirt quickly. Raven loops her thumbs between bare skin and her underwear, running her fingers along the hem.
“Raven,” I say, a hint of a smile in my tone. “What are you doing?”
“Cooling off,” she says.
Then she slips her underwear off. Finds the clasp of her bra next. I look around quickly, making sure Clovis is still behind the rocky waterfall, where he can’t see Raven. It’s too hard to tell in the dimness around us. I lean my ear to the air and rely on my hearing instead. When I don’t hear anything, my stare returns to Raven.
“You really shouldn’t have done that,” I say playfully as I slip off my boxers.
Raven chokes on laughter as she runs from me, heading toward the water’s edge. I take off after her. She jumps in. I follow suit. The water is slightly warm.
I swim after her. Raven is fast. But I am faster. I catch her and wrap my arms around her waist from behind. She tries to wriggle away, but I hold her in place. As I kiss her neck—open mouth, tongue licking her skin—her laugh stalls.
I kiss up the nape of her neck. Raven settles into my arms, all traces of laughter gone.
“Jospin,” she whispers.
“Yes, Raven?” I say, running a hand down her back from behind. When I get to her legs, Raven parts them wider. I slip my fingers between.