Stalking Ivory

by Suzanne Arruda

  “Right. Well, Kaloff was not very bright, you see, and—”

  Beverly jumped up and shouted, “I don’t want to hear about any stupid elk, or pony, or your silly dog!” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I want you to take this seriously, Jade.”

  Jade reared back in her seat, mouth open in shock. She’d never seen Beverly so distraught and she’d certainly never borne the brunt of her wrath.

  Avery took his wife by the arms and gently pulled her back into her seat while he murmured soft, placating nonsense. “There, there, my dear. You mustn’t get overwrought. It’s not good for you.”

  “Or for the baby,” said Jade. Beverly’s and Avery’s heads both jerked up simultaneously. “I figured it out myself,” Jade added when the couple began to give accusatory looks at each other. “No one told me.”

  “But how did you guess?” asked Avery. “Beverly only just told me last evening.”

  Jade ticked off the reasons on her fingers. “Bev’s been eating like a starving wolf, she’s indisposed each morning, and she’s extremely emotional. Bev doesn’t generally get emotional,” she explained. “That’s actually the clue that cinched it for me. Heaven knows we’ve all seen enough gore recently to turn our stomachs, and I’ve seen Bev bolt down her food lots of times.” She held up her hands defensively. “Don’t worry, Bev. Your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell anyone.” She turned towards Sam, who still sat quietly, studying the situation. “You can keep a secret, can’t you, Sam?”

  He nodded. “Certainly.” He looked around at the surrounding forest. “Who would I tell? Of course, in about eight or nine months, the secret will be out anyway, literally.”

  Beverly was now sufficiently riled to regain her normal composure. “Ooooh! Just see if I make either of you two jokers godparents.” She removed her hat and patted her short corn silk curls. “But I am serious, Jade,” she said as she replaced her hat. “You go looking for trouble. I swear, you need a keeper.”

  Jade ignored the last comment, as it was one that Bev had made before. “The main point is this: Chiumbo and I found their cache of ivory, weapons, and money.” She jumped up from her seat. “That reminds me, I haven’t actually looked at the money yet.”

  Avery’s eyes widened. “You didn’t hide it with the rifles?”

  She didn’t bother to reply, since the answer was obvious. Instead, she darted to her tent and retrieved the knapsack by the door. From inside she extracted the leather pouch and carried it back to her companions. “Let’s see what they’re using to buy arms with.”

  She undid the knot, tugged open the pouch, and spilled the contents into her left hand. She expected to find an assortment of Abyssinian coins, some silver talaris mixed in with a birr, a bessa, or a Mehalek, perhaps even a stray Maria Theresa thaler. She was mistaken. In her hand lay a dozen solid-gold coins bearing a charging elephant on one side and a crowned eagle on the other.

  “Tabora pounds,” she whispered. Avery jumped from his chair and snatched a coin from her hand. The others quickly followed suit, eager to see the valued coin of former German East Africa.

  “Nineteen sixteen,” said Sam, reading the date. “Rather a last-ditch effort, don’t you think, considering things weren’t going all that well for them there? Still, even with the demise of ‘Deutsch Ostafrika,’” he said as he turned the coin in his hand and read the flashing inscription, “these must still be very valuable. If nothing else, for the gold.”

  Avery studied the coin’s elephant, trunk upraised as it charged forward in front of a mountain scene. “Rather ironic to think that a coin bearing an elephant is being used to buy weapons to kill the beasts.”

  “I doubt that’s what these weapons are for,” said Jade. She didn’t bother to look up and see everyone’s reaction. “Remember, these aren’t express rifles or anything powerful enough to take down an elephant, at least not without heavily sedating it first so the shooter could get right next to it. I think these are being amassed to kill people.”

  “Do you mean form an armed raid here in the northern frontier?” asked Avery.

  Jade shook her head. “I have no idea. They may plan on taking them home and selling them to the highest bidder. Or maybe they plan to wage a war in one of their territories.”

  “Could they be selling them down here to someone?” asked Sam. “I mean, we assume they’ve purchased them and this gold is all they have left from the bargain. Perhaps they plan to sell them to our friendly neighborhood Germans. Are they from East Africa?”

  Jade shrugged. “Don’t know. They say they’ve never been to Africa before. Chiumbo didn’t recognize any of them, but then he wouldn’t have seen every German in East Africa.”

  “No wonder he had such a venomous look on his face when I walked in on your little party the other day,” said Sam. “He’s from there himself.”

  “Right,” agreed Jade. “From what he told me, he’s looking for two men in particular. One, believe it or not, was a Brit named Prince. The other was one of his German lieutenants.”

  “Well, he won’t find Prince,” said Avery. “The man got shot in the war. Ironically enough, he was fighting against England and died at the hands of a true British soldier.”

  “How do you know that?” asked Beverly.

  Avery shrugged. “I’m not Lord Dunbury for nothing, my dear. I heard many tales after the war before we came out here.”

  “I don’t know who’s buying and who’s selling, but these are German-make rifles,” said Jade. “My bet is that our friends in Harry’s camp are selling them to the Abyssinians. For all we know, Harry may be in on it.”

  “And the Abyssinians just happen to be paying with German currency?” asked Sam. He sounded skeptical. “Maybe you should leave this to the Brits and the local King’s African Rifles.”

  “Fine,” said Jade. “I can make a map for you, Bev, and Avery to take back to Isiolo or Archer’s Post to get some reinforcements for Smythe. You could go to Kampia Tembo water hole and catch the commissioner there. By the way, has our runner come back yet?”

  Avery shook his head no. “He may have had to travel as far as Isiolo to find an official.”

  “I notice,” Beverly said, her tone as close to a growl as her soprano voice could make, “that you don’t seem to plan on going with us.”

  “If we all leave, they may get away before anyone can take them into custody. But if I stay here, maybe I can find some evidence identifying the gunrunners. Someone needs to tell the officials what’s happening here, and take Jelani to safety. If Smythe comes back without knowing the extent of their armory, many more men may die like the poor askari.”

  Jelani, who’d kept silent during the discussion, sat bolt upright on the ground. “I am not leaving you, Simba Jike, or Biscuit. I can fight these bad men. I’m not afraid.”

  Jade smiled at the boy’s bravery. “I know you are not afraid, Jelani. But I am afraid for Biscuit. He keeps getting loose. What if the poachers tried to take him? And if I send him away, I need to send you so that someone can take care of him.”

  “But who will keep you safe?” asked the boy.

  Sam cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “I believe I could guard Miss Simba Jike,” he said. Jade turned and fixed her green eyes on him. Sam ignored her and added, “Um, along with Chiumbo, of course.”

  “I don’t need a keeper,” Jade snapped.

  “Oh, honestly!” Beverly replied. “You are the most exasperating person I’ve ever met, Jade. Avery and I are British citizens in a British colony, so I don’t see that any of us is in immediate danger, at least as long as we can keep you from antagonizing them. You are the problem, Jade, and I’m not going unless you go, too.” She held up her hand to forestall Jade’s forthcoming denial. “Now, do try and tell us something more about this Boguli person. He’s one man who surely has seen something of use to us.”

  Jade thought for a moment, searching for any bit of information that she’d overlooked. “He knew my name. Not my real
name, my Swahili name.”

  “Most curious,” exclaimed Avery. “Perhaps he is an old Kikuyu who came up from Nairobi?”

  “No,” replied Jade. “He knows the area too well. He said he remembered that ancient-looking trail and tree from following the elephant herds in his youth.”

  “Maybe he’s all that’s left of some old tribe in the area,” suggested Sam. “If that’s true, he could hold a personal grudge against the Abyssinians. They may have been instrumental in eradicating his people.” He straightened his good leg and leaned forward. “He could be very useful to us.” He nodded to Jade. “Do you think you could find him again?”

  “Again? I didn’t find him the first time. He found me.” She shook her head in amazement. “The man made less noise than an owl on the hunt.”

  “Maybe he will look for you again,” Jelani’s young voice piped up from their feet, where he once again rested against Biscuit. “We could go back to the hollow tree and wait for him.”

  The “we” was not lost on Jade. “That is a good idea, Jelani. I will either return to that part of the mountain tomorrow and look for the old man or find him near the elephant herds. But,” she added with a smile, “you will not come with me.”

  Jelani thrust out his lower lip in a universally recognized pout. Before he could protest, Beverly came to Jade’s rescue. “Jelani, I need you to stay here with me and help me make a new fishing pole. My other one broke.”

  Jade knew there hadn’t been any place to fish in since they’d left the Guaso Nyero River, and Jelani surely knew that, too. She doubted that Beverly even owned a fishing pole, but she was fairly certain that at least one of Avery’s would show up snapped by tomorrow morning. She appreciated Bev’s intervention. Still, Jade did feel a growing anxiety about the others’ safety.

  “I would still really prefer that the rest of you left,” Jade said. “If the poachers find out some of their guns were stolen, they might demand them back.”

  “As I said before, I’m not leaving without you, Jade.” Beverly’s normally melodious voice hissed.

  “That’s blackmail, Bev,” said Jade. Her friend just smiled.

  “Finding this Boguli is a good idea,” interjected Avery. “He probably won’t trust any of us, but he seems to trust you, Jade. Perhaps you can convince him to return to camp with you. Someone should go with you, though.” He looked sideways at Sam.

  Jade saw the silent appeal to the American pilot. “Chiumbo will be with me again,” she said. “I’m sure Sam has his own business to attend to. Something to film, perhaps? After all, that is why he came here, isn’t it?”

  “Actually, I spent most of the day filming the Dunburys at home on safari, and I even went back out to run footage of that old dead bull. Thought I could turn this into a picture about the plight of the elephants. So, you see, I’m available at the moment.” He flashed a winsome, boyish grin that showed a lot of white teeth. “I bet if you got to know me, you might find me an all-round swell fellow. What do you say?”

  “I’d say you don’t have a leg to stand on. I’m going with Chiumbo to find Boguli.” She stood up and brushed off her trousers.

  “Now?” cried Beverly. “You just got back from one escapade and already you’re going headlong into another?”

  “The morning is barely begun. I can’t waste an entire day, Bev.” Jade took two steps towards her tent before turning back to Sam. “Actually, you could be very helpful, now that I think about it.”

  Sam stood at attention like a soldier awaiting orders. “Sam Featherstone at your service, ma’am. When do we start?”

  “We don’t. I have a different mission in mind for you. A reconnaissance run, if you will. I’d really like to gather more information on our German friends. Considering how two of them at least are fanatical about motion pictures, you should be well received. You could offer to film them for your safari movie. Perhaps you could take Jelani with you. He’s very good at infiltration.”

  “I should think most of the camp would be off hunting,” Sam said.

  “Exactly,” replied Jade. “But the ladies might still be in camp, ready to show you around while you film them.” She winked. “Who knows what interesting things you might capture?”

  CHAPTER 13

  The antiquity of these volcanoes is evidenced by the wealth of life on Marsabit. Over eons, hardened lava gave birth to soil, which nourished grasses, which fed animals. Both plants and animals repaid and replenished the soil by providing it with their wastes and, eventually, themselves. In other words, the soil’s current richness owes itself to the three Ds: death, decay, and dung.

  —The Traveler

  “WHOA! SLOW DOWN, PARTNER,” said Sam as Jelani trotted ahead with Biscuit. “I can walk quickly, but running’s not in the cards. Besides,” he added, pointing to the porter walking behind him with the camera and tripod, “I think Nasero would like it if we slowed down.”

  Jelani stopped and waited, frowning in obvious irritation. He held the cheetah’s lead, and the big cat paced back and forth as if he, too, was annoyed with their slow pace. “You talk funny,” Jelani replied. “I do not understand this running in the cards.”

  “Oh, that’s a sort of saying from my home. I guess you could say it means I have to work with what I have.”

  “Oh,” said Jelani. He fell in step beside Sam and watched the American walk.

  Sam saw the boy’s interest and decided he might as well explain. He wanted to win Jelani over for several reasons: one, he genuinely liked the boy, and two, Jade cared for him. “I hurt my leg in the war,” he explained. “Someone shot me.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  “No, I was in an airplane, and it was all I could do to land without crashing.” Sam looked down at the boy to see if he understood. “Do you know about airplanes, Jelani?”

  The boy nodded. “Memsabu Jade and Memsabu Beverly and Bwana Avery showed me pictures. I think the airplanes are like motorcars that fly.”

  “Very good. You understand a lot.”

  Jelani shrugged. “I do not understand why we are going to Bwana Harry’s camp. We should be with Memsabu Jade, protecting her.”

  Sam took a deep breath. My sentiments exactly. Blasted fool’s errand is what this is. Well, he thought, maybe he was a fool at that. As a kid, he’d devoured tales of adventure, always wondering if he could have one of his own. It was a dream that hadn’t seemed probable while he was working with his brothers on the family farm in Battle Ground, Indiana. Then, while studying engineering at Purdue, he saw his first airplane. He was hooked. What greater adventure could there be than flying? Soon after graduation, he’d heard about an air corps unit forming up in Texas to fight in the war, and Sam was there as fast as the train could take him.

  Now, thanks to his injury, he might be grounded for life. The thought had nearly crushed him until he’d decided on making films as a new means to seek out adventure. And just when he’d wondered about the success of that plan, Avery’s package had come: the package containing a smudged carbon copy of a new book, Stalking Death by Madeline Thompson.

  Sam had read it as he read all adventures, greedily devouring every page. By the middle, he found himself hopelessly in love with what he thought was a fictional character. But Avery and his wife swore the events in it were all true and invited him to come to Africa and meet the heroine. Meeting her, and the thought of all the wonderful wild animals and exotic people to film here, gave him fresh hope. Now here he was, and that seemed to be nowhere. How the dickens does a pinioned pilot like me, who can’t even run, much less soar, stand a chance with a woman like her? He gritted his teeth together in a vow of determination. She wanted him to spy on the Germans, and by thunder, that’s just what he’d do. And what’s more, I’ll do a helluva job of it!

  “Our Simba Jike wants to know if these people are working with the poachers,” Sam explained. “She hopes we can find that out. If they are, then knowing that will help protect her.”

  Jelani gave hi
m a sidewise look. “Do you believe that?”

  Sam laughed, shifted his rifle to his other hand, and clapped the boy on the back. “No, but what Simba Jike wants, Simba Jike gets.”

  They arrived at Harry’s camp just before eleven, as Otto von Gretchmar and his daughter sat down to a late breakfast. Sam sounded a hearty “Hello!” at the boma gate before entering.

  “Good morning,” he said, tipping his hat to the young woman. “I’m Sam Featherstone.”

  Otto von Gretchmar grunted. “Ja, I met you the other day. You talked about shooting down the planes.”

  “Oh, that,” said Sam with a pshaw and a wave of his hand. “Just trying to impress the lady, right?” He laughed and watched as the big banker relaxed and grinned. “But I’m here to make a movie about safaris. I hoped I could film all of you in camp, but I see most everyone is gone.” He turned partway as if to leave.

  Von Gretchmar jumped up, tipping his chair. “But we are here. You will film us dining, ja? It will be a present for my little Mercedes. See? You will set up your camera there”—he pointed to a spot where his daughter would be in profile while he took center stage—“and make the movie. Then I will bring my rifle and act like I go on the hunt.”

  What a hypocritical old goat, thought Sam, pretending to do this for his daughter when von Gretchmar obviously wanted the camera on himself. He obliged the man and began cranking out yards of Mercedes sitting demurely eating while Otto ordered the poor cook’s assistants around. This is getting me nowhere. A glance to the side showed Jelani, equally perturbed, sitting on the ground beside the cheetah.

  As soon as von Gretchmar went to retrieve his favorite rifle, Mercedes stepped forward timidly and asked if Sam might film her walking outside the compound. “I will pretend to hear something, ja? And then I will hurry to the gate. Then you will go outside and film me coming out?”

  Sam agreed. He was surprised how well the girl understood playing to the camera. She seemed to have a natural intuition about how fast she could move and still have him follow her, and how to play out the drama of soundless acting. Before they relocated outside the gate, Mercedes asked Sam about going to America to become an actress. That was when von Gretchmar returned with his rifle.