“Then what are we doing here?”
“Just saying hello.”
“But aren’t we in his circle?”
“It’s all right, he always remembers me. I just have to let him know who it is.” He leaned his head out the door, cupped his hands over his mouth, and gave a long low whistle that sounded like, “Woooo—up!” Then raised and held a clenched fist up in the air.
The chimp lifted both arms in spontaneous reply and screamed out a much louder version of the same sound before giving over to jumping and beating his chest with wild excitement. All at once, there were a hundred answering cries from the treetops as innumerable dark shapes began dropping from the trees and running toward them. Tom closed his door only moments before the little van was completely overrun with monkeys. They clamored over the top and sides of the vehicle until it began to rock with their thunderous pushing and shoving, and determined efforts to squeeze past each other to get at the fruit and look through windows.
“Now’s the time, if you want a picture,” Tom had to raise his voice over the din. “They’ll take off as soon as the fruit’s gone.”
Meg startled, as if coming suddenly awake, and her hands shook just taking the cameras out of her bag. Then a strange thing happened. As if they had prearranged every move and done it a thousand times before, the two of them began to work in tandem. For the next fifteen minutes Meg snapped frames while Tom shot footage of wild antics and close-up joyous expressions through the glass of what could only be called an out-and-out celebration over the surprise.
When it was over, Meg dropped her hands to her lap, still clutching the camera, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath as if only just remembering she needed air. “Oh, Tom! That was just the most…exhilarating experience I’ve ever had!”
Tom ran a hand through her curls to push them back from her face and then kissed her. “I’ve got lots of experiences like that for you, Megan. So much I want to share with you.”
“Please take me with you!” She circled his neck with her arms and leaned her forehead against his. “I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life for things like this. I can’t bear to miss a minute!”
“Don’t make it any harder, priss, I can’t give in. But I’ll get back as soon as I can. I’ll pick you up in Kumasi in two days, and the three of us will fly back to Akosombo for the shoot.”
“Only three of us?”
A ripple of anger flickered over his face. He looked out the window for a moment, as if trying to keep it under control, and then answered. “That rat, Gilbert, is up to something. He hung up on me this morning without even telling me where they were. When I get hold of him, he’s fired. I’m going to throw him on a train in Kumasi and ship him home.”
By the time they returned to Yeji, Meg found the prospect of rejoining her tour actually depressing. The dread of having to go separate ways seemed to grow with each passing minute, and nothing they said or did could dispel the ominous mood that was growing darker as the moment of his departure arrived. When they stood, at last, on a cluster of docks in front of a small boat harbor where Tom had rented a launch to carry him upriver, he reached into a vest pocket and handed her cell phone back to her.
“To call home?” She realized the thought was hardly an inclination, anymore.
“If you want. But don’t be too hard on me, Meg. I’d rather wait until better circumstances to have to make a first impression. Mostly it’s for you and me to stay in touch whenever we can. I put my number on there for you, but I’ll be out of range until Little De Ambe. It’s nothing but river, swamp, and rocky hillsides between here and there.”
He gave a wave to a man who was starting an engine on a small boat some distance away, and reached into another pocket for his bush hat. “I’ll have to trek a mile and a half where they drop me off, and then I know someone who has a jeep I can drive the rest of the way. About five hours in all. Just about the same time you’ll be pulling into Yapei, so I’ll give you a call.”
“Tom, I have the most awful feeling,” Meg confessed.
“I’m not very happy leaving you, either. But the quicker we get this thing over with, the better. Keep out of the sun, Meg, will you? Have to be careful about that for the next few days.”
“I will.”
“And remember the mosquito netting around beds in this forest country is not for decoration. Don’t fall asleep without.…”
“Tom, I’ll be fine. Those aren’t the kind of things I meant. Something just doesn’t seem quite right about all this. Nothing seems right. I almost hate to leave, it’s so…”
“Don’t miss that boat, Meg.”
“But what if something happens to you?”
“Whatever happens I can handle it. So, don’t worry. It’ll be over before you know it.”
“I don’t see why we can’t just wait for them, if they already have a plane to use…isn’t that how they got there?”
“For some reason, Eddie still isn’t answering his phone. Not last night, or all day today. It’s probably just a matter of waking up somewhere with a hangover. Whatever it is, though, I have a feeling I should have been there, yesterday.”
“Well, I…” Meg looked over at the tin building that housed the office, and then turned back to look at the town that was only a block away. Beyond that, she could even see the top stacks of the Volta Queen that was moored up at the wharf beyond. “It’s almost as if I had run into some kind of strange magnetic field and my compass is out of sorts.”
“Stay close to me, then, priss.” He put a hand under her chin and leaned down to kiss her goodbye. “Because mine’s working just fine.” Then he kissed her, again, and headed off toward the boat that was waiting for him at the far end of the dock,
She waved one last time when he turned around, and then watched until the boat finally disappeared around a bend in the river. After that, she started back toward town and the melancholy mood still felt so heavy, she decided the only way to break it was to buy something at a little souvenir shop she’d had seen near the wharf. This region was famous for beautiful cloth, and she’d planned to purchase some, anyway. There was a nice selection on a table outside the shop and, in the half-hour that remained before the boat left, she would have just enough time.
Once there, she found a light colorful shawl and was tying it over her blouse the way she had seen so many of the African women do, when she heard someone scream a few feet away from her. It was a noisy, crowded place, and a burst of laughter from a group of women in the same area made her think they were just having a good time. Only, just as she turned around to go inside and pay for her shawl, she heard an emphatic— “Pssst! Mystery girl!”—from behind a large rack of dresses.
Meg stopped short and stared, just as a purple headscarf with an enormous knot tied on one side rose up over the top like an emerging periscope, only to reveal a familiar face beneath it. “Why, Vidalia Harbin, of all things! Shouldn’t you be at the…”
But instead of the friendly greeting she expected, the dark eyes grew wide with fright, and the woman reached out and pinched her, instead.
“Ouch! For, heaven’s sake, what did you do that for?”
“Had to make sure you weren’t another ghost! Been seeing ghosts all over the place.” She stepped from behind the rack and gave a furtive look in all directions as if to make sure it was safe. She wore a long flowing sarong in the same purple shade as her headscarf. “Meg, where have you been all this time, girl? I thought you were dead!”
“Dead…”
“When the old coot came back without you, I…”
“Vidalia, what are you saying? The professor wasn’t booked on our…”
“He showed up all right. In the same shape he was on the plane. Like that through most of the trip. But then when I seen Henry last night looking the same way…mmm-mmm! I knew I was in a fix worse than…” She tugged at a maroon-colored neck scarf as if she couldn’t bear the heat a moment longer, and Meg caught sight of a huge gold chain
with a red-eyed crocodile underneath.
“Where did you get that thing?” It was a dead ringer for the one she had seen on Sol Horn.
“It’s what the witchdoctor’s friend gave to me. Remember? Only, now, it won’t come off! Been trying to get somebody around here to help me, but soon as anybody catches a look, they get all kinds of scared and run away from me! Have to keep it covered up, or they treat me like one of the walking dead. Must mean something awful!”
“It means something, all right. Now, listen, Vidalia, we’ve got to get this straight. When exactly did you see the professor? Because I was told he flew into a place called Little De Ambe, yesterday.”
“Maybe he did and maybe he didn’t. All I know is, last night, him and Henry got dumped in the back of the van on its way to that investment meeting I told you about.”
“Was he with a younger man? With curly hair?”
“Just Ethel’s husband, Henry. Remember? That’s who it was. Unloaded ‘em both in the middle of the night after the boat brought us all over. The ferry from Mole National Park. Only a couple of us were going to the meeting. Ethyl chickened out on me at the last minute, her and her nerves of steel. Next thing I know, there was Henry. And him supposed to be off on that photography expedition! Only just when I caught a glimpse over the backseat and was trying to figure out what was wrong with him…well, that’s when the curly-haired guy come out of nowhere and started a scuffle.”
“That had to be Gilbert Minelli! Where are they now? Do you know?”
“Bottom of that goldmine, if you ask me. Right where I’d be if I hadn’t run off and hid under the wharf when that Minelli guy, same one was asking all those questions about you back in Podor…”
“About me? Was the professor with him, then?”
“Nope. Just him. Didn’t see him anymore after that. But the old man rode with us on that awful road trip through the back country in Mali, didn’t even stop there! All the way to Ouagadougou, in this here Volta region. That ain’t how this tour was supposed to go. The other guy didn’t show up until last night, when he threw a swing at the witchdoctor. Knocked him flat, too.”
“Then what happened?”
“Saw a rat as big as a cat down there under that wharf!”
“With Gilbert and the professor, I mean!”
“Oh. Somebody important drove up and they all ganged up on him. Heard them say they’d take those four up there first, then come back and find me, later. Oooo-la! Scared the…”
“Four?”
“Another lady from the tour was with us.”
“Vidalia, where’s the mine? Do you know?”
“Not sure exactly. On account of I never been there, myself. But you could ask Belle Daube. She might know.”
“Who’s that?”
“Woman that runs the store, here. If it hadn’t been for her, I’d be…”
“Can we trust her?”
“Every time you say that witchdoctor’s name, she spits. I think we can trust her.” She shifted a large, woven grass carryall to her other shoulder. “She helped me out with this outfit, too.”
“Come on, we’ve got to talk to her!” Meg grabbed Vidalia’s arm and started inside. “I’ve just got to find the professor, and that goldmine might be close by!”
The inside of the store was like walking into a witch’s den. After the glare of outside it felt dark and damp. There was a strong smell of incense and…something else Meg couldn’t quite make out. The first thing that caught her attention was the head of a panther protruding from a portion of the wall, with fangs bared and a single claw stretching out beneath, as if it were just tearing through and about to spring on some unsuspecting prey.
The ceiling was hung with all manner of baskets and nets (for capturing human souls; Meg had read about that in one of the brochures), and there were bins and tables stuffed and stacked to overflowing with sticks and shells, pieces of leather, and…bones. It was a shop of bones. Big ones, little ones, and numerous wall hangings made out of bones. She felt a chill just being inside, even though it was nearing ninety degrees out in the street.
“That be twenty dollar.” The old woman behind a bamboo counter pointed to the shawl Meg was still wearing and moved over to an ancient cash register.
“Oh…” Meg slipped her bag from her shoulder and fished for her wallet. “Yes, of course. Do you happen to know…” She pulled out a combination of local currency Tom had forced on her before he left. “I’m a friend of Vidalia, here, and…”
“American twenty dollar,” the woman corrected her. Two of her teeth were missing, and she had something brown in her mouth. Which seemed rather out of balance with the lovely full length green toga and matching scarf she was wearing, tied attractively in the African style.
“Oh.” Meg looked in the zippered section where she kept the change from the last traveler’s check she had cashed, and withdrew a twenty-dollar bill. “Here you are. It’s a lovely shawl. Everything out there is beautifully made.”
“All made in my village, missie.” She took the twenty, snapped it to make sure it was genuine, and then leaned close to squint at the buttons on the machine. She punched one. There was a loud ring, of the sort one used to hear on children’s bikes, and the drawer sprang open against the woman’s stomach. She lifted the tray of local currency and slipped the twenty underneath. “De Ambe.” She slammed the drawer closed, again. “Just down the river. All these goods are made by my people in De Ambe.”
“De Ambe?” Meg could hardly believe what she was hearing. “You mean, De Ambe is somewhere near here?”
“Near to some, far to others,” the woman replied. “My grandson and I go home every night, if that is what you want to know. I invited Vidalia to come home and stay with me until the boat comes back, but she would rather sleep with rats!” Then she laughed as if the thought delighted her, and leaned down to spit a stream of brown juice into an old brass spittoon near her feet. Why, she was chewing tobacco!
“But I was told De Ambe was some dangerous primitive place at least five hours from here.” Meg still couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing, and had to make sure.
The woman smiled a tolerant smile and shifted her mouthful from one side to the other. “De Ambe is a beautiful place. Like Paradise. And very modern. Aram Fada, who is the headman there, is the only man, maybe in all this Volta region, to have a dish.”
“A dish?”
“To bring in the television. He has a dish. And there are drum parties and music every night. Wonderful music. The witchdoctor”—she spat, again, and this time it was more like she was trying to get rid of some terrible taste in her mouth—”plays in a reggae band twice a month in Kumasi, Accra, Dakar, all over. A good friend of my husband.”
“Would you happen to know if a Professor Anderson arrived there yesterday?”
“Professor Anderson? He is a great name. If he came, we would all know it. His sons are coming next week, and there is to be a big celebration.”
“Well, then, is there a…” Meg came right to the point. “Some kind of a goldmine in De Ambe?”
“There is, but it is broken down. Cost too much to get anything out right now, so Aram Fada doesn’t allow it. But some devils are getting something out by selling pieces of it to any child of an ostrich who believes them.”
Vidalia gasped and grimaced as if someone had smacked her, and the old woman laughed at her discomfort.
“Have you heard of anyone named Gilbert Minelli?” Meg ventured.
“Mmm…” The woman’s eyes twinkled at Meg as if she were a cat playing with a mouse. “I heard of somebody with a name like that who tried to hit Sol Horn on the chin last night.” She spit again, at the mention of the name, and then laughed with outright delight when Meg’s expression turned as equally shocked as Vidalia’s had been.
“What happened to him? Do you know where he is now?”
“Well…” The woman moved down the counter a few steps and picked up a small bundle of some noxious
smelling herbs. “Same thing happens to anyone who is so foolish. He got himself turned into monkey brains.”
Gold Trap
19
Hunter’s Blind
“Every hole in the side walls had a human eye in it.”
Mary Kingsley
There was a deep loud groan of the whistle on the Volta Queen as it called passengers back to get under way. Meg gave a start and grabbed Vidalia by the arm. “Come on, I’ve got fifteen minutes to get my luggage off that boat before it sails! Don’t go away, Belle Daube. We’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here.”
It wasn’t until they were standing on the wharf, again (and Meg had made serious efforts to avoid Judith), watching the boat pull away that she had a momentary twinge of guilt. She was doing exactly what Tom told her not to, and he had barely been gone an hour. She was also breaking one of the last remaining rules she had not changed in her journal. But there was simply no way around it. Rule number two: “I will always keep my word,” would have to be revised to include: “except in matters of life and death.” But she would think about that later. Right now, she had to tell Tom everything she’d heard.
So, while Vidalia sank down onto a nearby bench to catch her breath, Meg took out her cell phone and tried to call him. Three rings and it shifted over to, “This is Tom. Can’t talk right now, so leave a message, and I’ll get back to you.”
Out of range, already.
Meg flipped it closed and put it back in her purse. Choosing the right words to explain would take some thought. He was just getting over the last time she left him a message. But if De Ambe was a shorter distance by some other river that only certain locals knew about, and if the professor really had been taken to the abandoned goldmine that was near there, then time was of the essence. Who knew what kind of condition he might be in by the time anyone got to him? Or, worse, yet, what they were planning to do to him before that.
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