The Vanishing Tribe

by Alex Archer

  5

  Despite Porter’s interruption, dinner proved to be a fun, relaxing affair. Lenny was new to the show, new to the network for that matter, and he hadn’t been there long enough to learn which orders of Doug’s were acceptable and which ones crossed any number of lines. Annja would report on what mystery they came across; she would even, on occasion, speculate about a particular topic of discussion, letting the audience make up their own minds as to what was real and what was not. That was where she drew the line. Special effects couldn’t create something that wasn’t there just to boost the ratings. On the few occasions where it had happened in post-production she had protested vigorously against it in the final cut. Doug should have known better.

  At least it was behind them now. They spent the meal swapping stories, just as they’d been doing since first climbing into that hide in the swamp two weeks ago. Lenny had worked for a variety of cable stations as an on-location cameraman and he’d been on the road almost as much as she had over the past several years.

  The owner came by to let them know that they would be closing soon and it was only then that Annja realized they were the last two customers in the entire restaurant. They paid the bill and then headed back down the street the few blocks to their hotel. They’d both had a few drinks; she was feeling reckless, and for a few minutes she considered inviting him to the bar for a nightcap. He had a certain sexy resemblance to a rocker she liked and there was no doubt that she found him attractive. In the end she went to her room on the second floor. She didn’t need the added adventure of romance in this working relationship.

  As she got off the elevator, she noticed the door to her room was slightly ajar. She stopped, staring at the narrow crack of light that spilled out between the door and the jamb.

  She’d closed the door firmly behind her on the way out. She was sure of it.

  Annja glanced up and down the hallway, but there was no one else around. She was alone.

  Others might have been uncomfortable with that knowledge and gone for help, especially being in a foreign country, but Annja was not your average tourist. Far from it. In fact, she was grateful there wasn’t anyone else around at the moment. It let her deal with the problem her way.

  She reached into the otherwhere and pulled out her sword. The long, slim blade seemed to gleam in the dim light of the hallway and she felt infinitely better the moment the well-worn hilt fitted neatly into her hand.

  Ready to take on whatever might be waiting for her, she quietly began to edge forward until she stood with her back to the wall, the open door just another step beyond. She leaned forward slightly and peeked inside.

  Annja’s hotel room was expansive by Botswanan standards—a wide, open suite with a sitting/living room area, a sleeping area and a private bathroom. From her current position she could see a small slice of the sitting area—a corner table, the end of the couch—but that was all. Not enough to tell her what was happening inside. She was going to have to take more drastic action to figure that out.

  Reaching out with the tip of her sword, she gently eased the door open farther. She waited for a response, but when one wasn’t immediately forthcoming she took a deep breath and stepped into the room, the sword extended before her en garde.

  There was no one there.

  The room was empty.

  It was immediately clear that someone had been inside. Her clothes and other belongings were strewn about as if that person had gone through them in a hurry. Her passport folder, and the assorted credit cards it contained, was still untouched on the bedside table.

  Cross off robbery as a motive, then.

  Truth was, she’d done that the second she’d seen the state of the room. Whoever had been in here had been looking for something specific and she had a good idea just what the something was. After all, Porter hadn’t been shy about telling her he’d take the drawing by force if she wasn’t willing to sell it to him. No doubt he’d hired some local to steal it and her decision to stay out late with Lenny had given them the opportunity they’d needed.

  Hopefully her foresight in hiding it before going out for the evening had kept it safe.

  As she walked toward the bathroom, she couldn’t help but wonder again just what was so special about the image.

  What good would a sketch of a lake that hadn’t existed for the past ten thousand years do anyone?

  Annja was starting to suspect it was high time she figured that out.

  She stepped into the bathroom, took the cover off the toilet and fished the zipped plastic bag out of the tank. She’d double-bagged the framed image, in fact. They either hadn’t thought to look there or her arrival had scared them away before they’d had the chance. Either way, the drawing was safe.

  Grabbing a towel off the rack on her way by, Annja took the package into the common room, drying it as she went. She put it down on the table and was about to sit when she heard a noise behind her.

  She spun around, hands coming up to defend herself.

  The room behind her was empty.

  And yet...it wasn’t.

  She wasn’t alone.

  She could feel it in her bones—that sense that there was someone else in the room even though she couldn’t see anyone there. She glanced about the room, searching out and then discarding various hiding places one by one, until her gaze fell on the tall wardrobe by the bed. The doors faced her directly and were open the barest fraction of an inch.

  Annja wasn’t the neatest of people. She couldn’t be certain, but she thought she’d left the doors of the wardrobe open earlier.

  “I know you’re in there,” she said. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice.”

  She waited, watching and listening.

  “Suit yourself.”

  Annja could handle herself in hand-to-hand combat, but there was no sense in approaching the wardrobe, and the potential enemy hiding inside it, unarmed if she didn’t have to. She called her sword to hand, not caring if the intruder inside the closet saw.

  Perhaps the sight of it would make whoever it was less inclined to give her a hard time.

  She advanced toward the wardrobe, her gaze glued to the crack between the doors, watching for the slightest movement.

  The room around her was silent, the swish of the ceiling fan the only sound.

  As she drew closer, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

  Someone was there all right.

  Annja stopped about two feet in front of the wardrobe, her sword between her and the doors.

  “Last chance,” she said.

  Nothing.

  With a rueful shake of her head, Annja reached out with the tip of her sword and knocked one of the doors open wide.

  She was staring at the empty wardrobe before her when there was a tremendous yell and the entire piece of furniture suddenly toppled toward her.

  She threw herself to the side, rolling over frantically to get out of the way as the wardrobe crashed to the floor where she’d been standing. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a man dart out. He snatched the double-bagged image off the table where Annja had left it and turned toward the door, intent on making an escape.

  But Annja, anticipating that move, scrambled to her feet and rushed after him. Her speed and agility seemed to have increased since she’d taken possession of the sword, and she proved to be slightly faster than he was, getting close enough to take him down with a diving tackle before he’d gone half a dozen steps. The two of them hit the ground, Annja’s arms wrapped around the intruder’s legs.

  That did little to stop him, however. He began squirming like a fish out of water, twisting and turning, pounding her on the head and shoulders with his free hand in an effort to free himself. Annja’s grip had been tenuous to begin with and so it only took him a few seconds to accomplish his goal. He pulled away from her, only to find that Annja was between him and the door.

  She grinned.

  Now that they were facing each other, she c
ould see that he was just a teenager. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen. He wore clean clothes and a white pair of sneakers that practically shouted their newness.

  To her surprise the cheeky kid smiled back, spun on his heels and raced across the hotel room in the other direction. Annja watched him go, wondering just what he thought he was doing. There wasn’t anything in that direction except...

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” she shouted.

  He never stopped; he just charged forward as fast as his feet would carry him. He brought up his arms to cover his face at the last minute and threw himself into the wooden shutters that covered the threshold to the narrow balcony just beyond.

  With a thunderous crash he burst through them and disappeared from view.

  6

  Annja couldn’t believe it. Where did he think he was going to go?

  She reached the shattered remains of the shutters just in time to see him leap over the low balcony railing and land on the brightly colored awning that extended from the hotel out into the street. He rolled once, twice and then, with impressive dexterity, grabbed the edge of the awning and swung down to the street below.

  Annja didn’t hesitate for the simple reason that she knew if she did, she’d lose him; the thief would disappear into the crowd and she’d never find him. So instead of pondering all the things that could potentially go wrong, Annja stepped past the wreckage of the door, put her hand on the railing and vaulted over it.

  She fell about half a dozen feet before striking the awning, which slowed her fall and sent her into a rolling tumble down its length. She sensed more than saw the edge of the awning ahead of her and thrust out her hands, snatching the supporting pole as she rolled past, bringing her to an abrupt halt, hanging half off the fabric, her feet a foot or so above the ground. It wasn’t as graceful as the exit the thief had managed, but it would do.

  She dropped to the ground, determined which direction her target had taken and then took up the chase.

  He’d put a good dozen yards between them and was just disappearing around the corner at an intersection up ahead.

  By the time she reached it he was out of sight, but the commotion he left in his wake allowed her to follow him easily enough. She pushed herself harder and it wasn’t long before she saw him moving in and out of the crowd ahead of her.

  She could see immediately that he had slowed down, no doubt thinking that he’d left her behind following his unorthodox exit from the hotel, and so she was able to close the distance between them without too much effort. Once she had, he seemed oblivious to that fact that she was there. She decided to take the risk of following him instead of taking back what was hers.

  Annja was already convinced that Malcolm Porter had hired the kid to steal the drawing. Getting the local police to take Porter into custody might be difficult because of his standing in the community, but if they refused to do anything about the situation, their inaction would at least allow Annja to handle this theft her way.

  She was now less than ten yards behind the thief. She could see the package he’d taken tucked under one arm as he made his way through the streets. He was intent on his destination, and Annja suspected she could have walked up and tapped him on the shoulder before he would notice her.

  From her explorations earlier in the day, Annja knew that the route he was taking would bring him to a large open-air plaza frequented by many locals. It was an ideal place for meeting someone without fear of being hemmed in.

  She also knew that there were other, faster routes to the same location. If she could get there ahead of him, she might be able to see who he was going to meet. Of course, he might not be headed that way at all, and if she took a chance and broke away from him, she might end up losing him entirely.

  So be it, she thought before darting down a side street and pushing herself faster. She must be quite a sight as she raced down the alley, dodging pedestrians, donkeys and vendors’ carts alike. She didn’t care; all that mattered was getting there before her target.

  Which, thankfully, she did.

  The plaza was roughly one hundred feet square, with entrances of arched stone at each of the cardinal points of the compass. Annja slowed down as she approached an entryway, not wanting to call attention to herself, and then stopped in the shadow of the arch to look out across the plaza.

  She saw Porter almost immediately. He was hard to overlook in that white suit he favored. He was standing on the far side of the square, in the shade of an umbrella that was held by an extremely fit-looking man next to him who all but screamed former military. For a moment she thought they had seen her, as well, and she tensed, ready to dive back into the crowd. When they didn’t react after several seconds she relaxed and settled in to wait for the thief.

  Several minutes passed with no sign of him.

  Had she been wrong? Had he been headed somewhere else? Porter’s presence here might just be an unfortunate coincidence.

  Another anxious moment passed and then the thief appeared in the mouth of the arch to her right, just as she’d expected he would. He glanced out across the crowd, obviously looking for someone. When his gaze fell on Porter, Annja saw his expression of distaste before he smoothed it into one of congeniality.

  You know you’ve got a personality problem when even the hired thieves don’t like you.

  The youth lifted a hand in greeting and then crossed to Porter.

  That was enough for Annja. She’d confirmed the connection between the two. Now it was time to take back what was hers.

  She left the concealment of the arch behind and put herself on an intercept course with her target.

  Unfortunately, the gunman standing beside Porter must have had formal training in executive protection at some point in his life. He picked her out of the crowd right away and switched his attention from the thief to her. One look was all it took for him to identify the oncoming threat. He drew his gun and pointed it at her.

  He won’t shoot, she thought, not with this many witnesses.

  She couldn’t have been more wrong.

  7

  Annja heard the sound of the shot right about the same moment she felt the bullet pass by her left ear. From behind her, a donkey screamed in pain.

  The gunfire drew the thief’s attention. Annja watched as he turned to see what Porter’s bodyguard was shooting at and their gazes locked above the heads of the crowd. No sooner had he seen her than he jackrabbited back the way he had come.

  Annja flicked her gaze to the gunman, her body tensing for the next shot, and was just in time to see Porter knock the other man’s arm upward, sending the bullet harmlessly into the wall of a nearby building.

  She didn’t wait around to see any more. Dodging panicked market-goers and anxious animals, she took off after her target.

  He tried to lose her in the maze of outdoor shops and stalls, but Annja was unwavering in her pursuit. She matched him turn for turn, refusing to lose sight of him no matter what. This was personal now; the drawing belonged to her and she intended to have it back.

  Her quarry was starting to get desperate; his head was snapping this way and that as he frantically looked for some way of throwing her off his trail. She stayed with him, relentlessly closing the gap. Her anger at Porter’s backhanded attempt to steal what was rightfully hers fueled her efforts and she quickly closed the gap between them.

  He glanced back, saw her closing in on him. They were passing a wide fountain to their left, an ornate stone affair with an elephant sitting in the pool of water, spouting water out of his trunk. As they came abreast of it the young thief flung the package away. Then he cut sharply in the opposite direction, no doubt betting that Annja would chase the package instead of him.

  His bet was right on the money.

  She watched the package sail through the air and splash into the fountain. She had no choice but to go in after it.

  Bystanders watched as she jumped into the murky water and splashed her way over to where sh
e’d seen the package disappear. She spent a few anxious minutes searching with both arms plunged beneath the surface before her fingertips brushed plastic. She gave a shout and snatched the package out of the water as she straightened.

  The thief, of course, was long gone.

  Porter and his man had apparently decided to make themselves scarce, as well, Annja was thankful to see.

  As she climbed out of the fountain, her clothes sopping wet from the thighs down, she realized that the packaging had torn slightly at some point during the chase. Water had most likely reached the drawing inside. She clamped down on the impulse to scream and set about saving as much as she could. She stripped the packaging open, wiped one hand dry on the top half of her shirt and then used it to pull the painting out into the sunlight.

  She saw immediately that one corner of the image had some water damage, but thankfully it wasn’t extensive, only about the size of a half dollar piece, if that. With a little care she might even be able to restore it. To keep it from getting any worse, she quickly took off the wooden backing and then removed the drawing from the frame entirely. Seeing what she was doing, a vendor in a nearby stall offered her a hand towel and she used it to blot the image dry. To show her appreciation she bought the towel from him, both of them getting a good laugh from the soggy state of the money she drew out of the pocket of her pants.

  After that, there was nothing left to do but return to her hotel. Once there the management apologized profusely for the break-in and moved her to another suite on a different floor to keep it from happening again. Annja wasn’t happy to find that her belongings had already been sent to the new room. Having two sets of strangers pawing through her things in a single evening was not one of the night’s high points. On the other hand, she was glad she wouldn’t have to spend the next hour gathering up her things.

  She needed a shower to wash off the grit and grime she’d picked up during her dunking in the fountain, but didn’t want to let the drawing out of her sight, so she compromised by taking it into the bathroom with her and wrapping it in a spare towel to keep it from getting damp. After bathing she dressed in a pair of sweats and a tank top and took the bundle over to the sitting area for a closer look.