by Carrie Regan
He could hear the buzz of flies before he reached the small clearing. His pulse quickened when he recognized an all-too-familiar structure: branches lashed together to create a drying rack like those they’d seen on their way into the Nburu. Approaching them from the back, he couldn’t see what lay drying on the frame. He took another step, one hand covering his nose and mouth, the other waving flies from his face, and saw a swath of fresh skin stretched out, completely covered in flies. Blood pooled at the base. He stooped, picking up a large leafed branch to fan the flies away. He could barely see through the cloud of insects as they alighted, and continued fanning until they settled elsewhere and he could see the skin.
Heart pounding, he flicked the last few maggots away and peered through the smeared blood. It was unmistakable. Etched on the skin were three Japanese characters, black ink on white skin: justice, love, mercy.
He stumbled backward and retched, then staggered back down to the water, where he paddled upstream with all his might.
He was gasping for breath as he pulled even with their neon orange tents. The strength he’d drawn from the river was a distant memory; he was terrified and weak as he staggered to Liz’s tent, dropped to his knees, and unzipped it.
No one was there. In fact, he realized that it wasn’t even Liz’s tent when he saw a familiar swatch of orange tucked inside a weathered leather backpack. Recognizing Alex’s pack, he crawled into the tent and loosened its drawstring, opening it. A neon orange cap sat innocently on top of two long, flat, bright blue batteries – the batteries of the team’s satellite phone. Max removed the hat with trembling hands, flipped it over, and found himself face to face with Buddy’s wife and daughters.
Suddenly, Max heard the rustle of someone approaching, and hurriedly shoved the hat back into the bag. Just as he turned to make his escape, footsteps sounded next to the tent, and a pair of muddy shoes stopped outside its doorway.
CHAPTER 38
The familiar logo of the morning show shot across the television screen, and Bill’s palms started sweating with Pavlovian predictability. Jesus, he thought, wiping them on his trousers, when would he learn to simply relax and enjoy his success? Every day he worried that the crew wouldn’t call in, and every day they came through. Soon they’d be back in the States, enjoying the fruits of their labor, basking in the media’s attention, all the while drumming up publicity for Adventure. They – and he – just had to make it through a few more days. And if they missed a call? All the better for building dramatic tension. Perhaps the idea was worth discussing with Max. On television, Tanya promised “shocking new developments from central Africa,” and Bill’s sweaty palms started to itch.
Ned nearly tripped as he strolled into the greenroom, catching himself just before the contents of his thick folder spilled across the floor. He straightened and adjusted his only tie, unusually formal attire for a mere intern. Fate had offered him an opportunity to show that he was more than just a coffee-shagging peon, and he was determined to seize it. With more confidence than he actually felt, he marched toward Adventure’s hand-wringing executive producer, surprised by the man he found. He’d heard the execs at NBC speak disparagingly of cable network honchos, and now he understood. Sweating in the corner in his cheap off-the-rack suit, Bill stood out like a high school senior touring a college campus. As the young intern approached, he flashed Ned a feeble grin.
“How’s it going?” Ned opened, thrusting out a hand. “Ned James, research,” he said, conveniently leaving off “intern.”
“Good to meet you,” Bill said, shaking his hand. He didn’t give his name, assuming that everyone was well aware of who he was by now, especially this rather cocky young man who couldn’t have marked more than a quarter century on the planet. “Just waiting for the crew to call in,” he continued, making small talk. He’d seen this young man’s type before — confident, drawn to his success, no doubt hoping to parlay this casual conversation into a job at Adventure. After all, his network had to seem exotic and interesting compared to the grind of a morning news show, cranking out the same old stories day after day.
Ned withdrew his hand and resisted the urge to wipe it on his pants. He was waiting for the call to come in? Geez, this guy had no idea what his crew was up against. It was exactly where they wanted him.
Fortunately, no one in the press seemed to have picked up on Alex Chambers. The NBC execs had decided to wait until morning to break the news about “the murderer in their midst.” They preferred to give the story’s faithful morning followers the news first…and wanted the art department to have time to come up with a kick-ass graphic. Ned had scarcely slept all night, certain they’d be scooped, but the other networks hadn’t caught on.
He remembered the reason he’d been asked to approach Bill in the first place. “You know, our audience can’t get enough of this story. If you don’t mind, we’d like to have you standing by for an interview with Tanya. Just in case the crew doesn’t make its call today.”
Bill had been waiting for this. In fact, he’d started to feel a bit slighted that they hadn’t asked him, the mastermind behind the expedition, for an interview sooner.
“I’d be delighted.” And more than a bit relieved. With the contingency plan in place, it took the pressure off the crew to come through with the call.
“Great,” Ned said. We are going to crucify you, he thought to himself with a wide grin.
CHAPTER 39
“Alex?” the voice connected to the muddy shoes asked, and Max’s shoulders collapsed in relief. It was AJ.
“It’s me,” Max said, poking his head out of the tent.
“Max! I didn’t think Alex could have returned-“ he began, but Max cut him off.
“AJ, it’s awful. I found Troy. He’s been butchered, skinned like the others.”
“Shit. Are you sure, Max? It could be-“
“And Alex-“ Max continued, stopping short as Alex himself suddenly popped out of the bushes a few feet behind AJ.
“What? What is it?” AJ asked.
Alex smiled wickedly at Max as he crept forward, reaching for something in his waistband. Shit, Max thought, he’s heard everything. Slowly, Alex withdrew the gun and brought it to his lips in a silent, threatening “Shhh.”
Aware of Max’s shift in attention, AJ quickly spun around, but not fast enough to see the gun, which Alex had swiftly tucked away.
“Find anything interesting in there?” Alex asked Max, reaching down to offer him a hand. Max waved away the offer, stumbling to his feet.
“I was just looking for Liz. Can’t keep everyone’s tents straight with all this moving around.”
“Liz is missing too?” AJ asked, panicked.
“I’m right here,” she said in a sleepy voice, emerging from AJ’s tent. “What’s going on? Did you find Troy?”
“Max did. Isn’t that right, Max?” Alex said quickly. “Butchered and skinned?”
“That’s right,” Max nodded, watching him.
“It’s impossible. You were out cold. You said it was malaria! I gave him meds about two or three hours ago. I went to call the doctor, but couldn’t find the phone.”
“Are you sure you didn’t imagine that you found Troy? Those malaria dreams can be pretty vivid,” Alex asked. Liz and AJ nodded in agreement, infuriating Max.
“I can prove it. I’ll take you there.”
CHAPTER 40
“We’re back live this morning with our exclusive continuing coverage of the search for a missing anthropologist in the jungles of central Africa. If you’re just joining us, a five person crew from the Adventure Channel, including host Max Carrington, set off nearly a week ago in an attempt to find Lawrence Julian Thompson. The crew has been phoning in with live reports for much of this week, but as of this morning, the calls have stopped coming,” Tanya reported.
Geez, Bill thought from his place on the interview couch across from her, she’s being a bit melodramatic. What would they say when the team called in tomorrow? What
ever. Hype equals ratings, and with the ratings they’d been getting, he wasn’t going to complain.
“Now it appears that the crew, already in trouble, is facing an even graver risk: a murderer in their midst. In his last dispatch, Max Carrington described an Australian geologist by the name of Alex who had crossed paths with the crew.” The photo of Alex that Ned had tracked down appeared on a screen over Tanya’s shoulder. “NBC has learned that this man – Alex Chambers – is wanted for a murder he committed last year while working for Mineride International, an Australian mining operation in the area. A spokesman for Mineride calls Chambers unstable, possibly insane, and capable of killing again. NBC received this information just hours ago, and has been unable to get in touch with the crew since. Their regular daily phone call has not yet come in.”
Tanya finally acknowledged Bill, whose face registered the shock of the revelations. “Bill Warner is president of the Adventure Channel and the executive producer of the program in question, Adventure!. Bill, you must be stunned by this news.”
He’d been set up. They knew, and didn’t tell him. And his crew! He looked at Tanya and wanted to slap that fake look of concern right off her face.
Remembering that they were on live television, he stammered, “Well, Tanya, obviously we’re concerned. Our crews assume a great deal of risk in the field, whether they’re scaling the world’s tallest mountains, running deadly rapids, or exploring remote jungles.” The words came easier as he built momentum. “The crew we have in the field with Max is top-notch. They’re seasoned professionals. They know the risks involved in getting this story, but are willing to face those risks for the potential reward. And by reward, I’m not talking about the glory of bringing back a powerful documentary, which, by the way, I’m confident they’ll still do. I’m talking about their desire to save a fellow human, to find out what happened to Lawrence Julian Thompson and bring him back alive.” He leaned back and took a calming breath. Take that, bitch, he thought. He was suddenly grateful for the media training Maxine had arranged when they’d lost a cameraman to an avalanche in the Himalayas last year.
Tanya blinked, no doubt surprised by his well-composed response. “Do you think Alex Chambers is responsible for the disappearance of Lawrence Julian Thompson, and if so, do you believe your crew is also in grave danger? Ironically, it’s entirely possible that they’ve solved the mystery of what happened to Dr. Thompson, but at the cost of their own lives.”
Bill considered the question for a moment, and continued. “There’s no telling if this Alex Chambers is the one responsible for the disappearance of Dr. Thompson. Our crew will no doubt get to the bottom of it if he is. They are our best and brightest, and if this fellow is responsible for the crime, they won’t let him get away with it.”
Tanya pressed on. “But they didn’t seem to be on to him when they called yesterday. And their regular call hasn’t come in today. If, in fact, we have lost contact with the crew, what can you do?”
Bill was ready for the questions to stop, and resisted an overwhelming urge to check his watch. The show had to be over soon. “Well, we hope that it won’t come to that. We’ll hope and pray.”
Tanya turned to the camera “With us via satellite now is someone who is also hoping, and praying: Brenda Billings, wife of Buddy Billings, a member of Adventure’s crew.” Bill, gratefully off camera, blanched at the mention of the name. “Viewers will remember that during our last conversation with the crew, Buddy, the sound recordist, was reported missing.”
The television screen split, with Tanya on one side and Mrs. Billings on the other, seated in her living room with one daughter beside her and another on her lap. They looked much like they did in the photo, except for Brenda’s face, which was streaked with mascara and tears.
“Mrs. Billings, first let me say that we’re so sorry to hear about the disappearance of your husband. You and your daughters must be very concerned.”
Mrs. Billings wiped her eyes and looked at the camera, her chin trembling. “I don’t understand. He told me it was all an act.”
“Who told you it was all an act? Have you heard from Buddy?”
“Not Buddy, Bill Warner.” In the studio’s control room, the AM Live staff cheered at the dramatic turn of events. A shot of Bill popped up on screen, beads of sweat visibly percolating on his forehead.
“I can explain,” he said, clearing his throat. “Mrs. Billings called me, understandably distraught, when she heard that Buddy was missing. I was merely trying to calm her down, hoping that Buddy would turn up before we’d have to reveal the truth. Mrs. Billings, I’m sorry I misled you.”
“You mean my Buddy really is missing?” she asked, her voice breaking.
“When was the last time you heard from your husband?” Tanya asked.
“Maybe a week ago. Is he okay? Is my Buddy going to be okay?” Her audio was swiftly cut, but her soundless image remained on screen, face still mouthing the query over and over, broadcasting her confusion and concern.
“There’s no telling, Mrs. Billings. But we’ll be praying for the entire crew, and will let you know the minute we hear anything. Thanks for talking with us today,” Tanya said. Mrs. Billings vanished from the screen. Back in the studio, Tanya turned to Bill. “And Bill Warner, thank you as well. We know this can’t be easy for you, and our thoughts are with you and everyone at Adventure.” He nodded as she turned to the camera. “That’s all we have time for this morning. No call has come in from the crew yet, but we’ll continue monitoring the phones all day. And tune in tonight at 8PM, when we’ll bring you a special one hour primetime edition of our program, featuring all the dramatic details of this remarkable story, including any updates we receive throughout the day.”
The moment the red camera light blinked off, Bill jumped up and ripped off his microphone.
“You were fabulous, Bill,” Tanya cooed.
“You set me up! You all set me up,” he growled, leaning in so that his face was inches from hers.
She lifted a delicate hand to his chest, pushed him away gently, then leaned in, staring him down. “We wanted an honest reaction, Bill, and we got it. Besides, your people had access to the same information we did. If they didn’t do anything with it, that’s your problem.” She patted him on the shoulder, her tone softening. “Don’t worry. You sounded great.”
Bill backed off and adjusted his tie. “What’s this about a special tonight?”
“Well,” Tanya said with a flirtatious toss of her hair, “you’ll just have to tune in to find out, won’t you?”
CHAPTER 41
“Jesus Christ,” AJ said, staring at the skin. Liz’s legs buckled beneath her, and she slumped against a nearby tree to keep from collapsing.
How could anyone do this to Troy? And what about Buddy? Until now, part of her still thought the stories about the Bambada were simply fiction – that they’d soon find their lost crew members wandering in the jungle and return home with yet another wild story. Now, her mind reeled at the harsh reality: Troy and Buddy were dead, someone or something was targeting them, and they were more vulnerable than ever.
“You’re sure it’s him?” Alex asked.
“You can still see his tattoo, for Christ’s sake,” AJ said. “Jesus, you didn’t see this when you checked the river?”
“I didn’t get this far. I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t feel quite as safe as I thought I would.”
“That’s understandable.”
“I just can’t believe it. I can’t even believe you made it this far, Max. I saw you. You were so sick,” Liz said, the words choked with emotion. AJ noticed the nauseated look on her face and went to her side to comfort her.
“Maybe the meds helped nip it in the bud. Maybe it wasn’t malaria after all,” Max said.
“Either way, we’re out of here tomorrow,” AJ said definitively. “We’ll leave at first light. If we really move, we can make it out of the jungle in a few days.”
“But what about Buddy? And t
hat anthropologist? They might still be out here,” Alex said.
“Anyone sick enough to do that to Troy would have killed Buddy by now, too,” Liz said. “Thompson has probably been dead for months. Moe and the porters were right. We should have left with them.”
Max nodded, only half listening, distracted by thoughts of how he could get a moment alone with Liz and AJ to tell them all about Alex.
Alex glanced between them. “You’re right,” he finally said. “We’re just sitting ducks. Best to turn back.”
They debated whether or not to film the scene. The documentary was the furthest thing from their minds, but they decided to shoot a short tribute to their fallen colleague.
“Troy disappeared sometime last night, the second of our crew to go missing,” Max stammered. “We found his remains today. He was new to our crew, the youngest member. This was his first shoot with Adventure, and his first time on an expedition this difficult. But he hung in there. He’ll be missed.” He chanced a glance at Alex, who casually rested his thumb in his waistband, revealing the hilt of his revolver.
They buried Troy’s remains in a shallow grave, Alex ever so charitably offering to perform the bulk of the labor. Wading silently back to camp in the fading light, the Australian shadowed Max, never allowing him to stray more than an arm’s length away. But Alex would have to sleep some time, Max thought, and when he did, he’d tell Liz and AJ everything.
In the meantime, he distracted himself by plotting their escape. They needed to get rid of Alex. Coincidentally, they also needed a big finale for their film. Max had it all figured out. That night, as AJ’s camera rolled, he would catch Alex as he slept and finish him off in a dramatic fashion. It would be a dazzling finish to the most spectacular of Max Carrington’s adventures to date, and it would secure his place in television history. He’d be a hero. Above all, he’d be in a prime position to leave the floundering Adventure Channel for a fat network news contract.