He shoved his hand back toward her. “Eat. You’ll need your strength.”
She reluctantly took it, biting off a piece, her face scrunching up with disgust. “Eww, what is this?”
“Beef jerky. I think they call it biltong.” Acton took a bite.
Not beef.
Courtney eyed it suspiciously. “Doesn’t taste like it.”
Acton lied. “It’s just the seasoning. Eat it. It’s protein and your body needs it.” He poured out a cup of water from the canteen. “Don’t waste a drop. We don’t know when we’ll be getting more.”
Courtney grabbed it, downing most of it in one shot as she tried to rinse the taste of the jerky from memory. “That person your wife called. Will he help us?”
Acton swallowed, pushing past the taste. “Hugh won’t rest until we’re found.” He took another bite then resealed the rest in the bag. Courtney handed the empty cup back and he refilled it, taking his own ration, savoring every sip like a fine wine before he screwed the cup to the top of the canteen. “Okay, let’s get some sleep.” He removed his hiking boots, placing them near the entrance, then climbed into the sleeping bag, turning his back to Courtney as she slid in beside him. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
He closed his eyes, images of Laura playing on the back of his eyelids as he said a silent prayer for the only woman he had ever truly loved. His eyes opened as he felt his companion cuddle up behind his back.
“Umm, is this okay?”
He grunted. “Sure, just don’t get any ideas, I’m a married man.”
“Eww! You’re old enough to be my dad!”
“Ouch, that hurts.”
He felt a hand rub his back gently. “Sorry, I was just joking.”
He smiled slightly in the dark. “So was I. Now get some sleep. We need to be up before they are.”
“Okay.”
55
Road to Sabi Sabi Bush Lodge
Greater Kruger National Park, South Africa
Cashile frowned as he stared at the body of his friend, Sipho. They had known each other for years, Sipho the one who got him the job at the lodge, it the best job he had ever had.
He owed this man.
And now he would never pay him back.
“Where are the police?” he asked the others in frustration, but he already knew. They were at least an hour away, there an incident in town demanding the attention of the small force assigned to the area.
Missing tourists would have to wait.
Though now that they had confirmed deaths, including at least one murder, one would hope they might reprioritize.
He examined the ground with his flashlight, quickly spotting multiple tire tracks heading deeper into the park. “They went that way.” He looked at the others. “We can’t track them at night, we’ll wait for dawn.” He climbed into one of their vehicles. “Stay here until the police arrive. Make sure no one touches anything.”
“Where are you going?”
“To tell his family. They’ll want to know.”
“Isn’t his brother a bad one?”
Cashile nodded, Sipho on more than one occasion confiding in him about his great shame over how his brother had turned out. He considered it a personal failure, Sipho the eldest male of the family, responsible for the younger brother after their father had died. Yet despite his problems, he knew the man loved his brother, and would want him to know his fate. “Yes, but blood is blood. He’ll want to know his brother is dead.” He flinched, his satphone ringing in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered. “Hello?”
“Hi, my name’s Chris. I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”
Cashile’s eyes narrowed, not sure who he was talking to. “What kind of favor?”
“I need you to take a picture of the two bodies and send them to me.”
56
Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters
Langley, Virginia
Leroux watched as the first face slowly appeared, the upload excruciating over the satphone of the lodge worker. Tong had called the resort, getting the number in the hopes they might get some intel now, rather than hours from now. It had been a brilliant idea, he expressing this, she blushing, her crush on him still in full bloom.
“We’ve got a forehead. Looks black.”
Leroux muttered a curse under his breath at Child’s observation. He had asked that the photo of the young man be sent first. They already knew who the other was, it confirmed by those on the ground. He turned to Child. “What do we know about this guy?”
“Nada beyond his name. He’s got no record in our database, but I’m still trying to get access to the South African’s.”
“Still?”
“Yup. What can I say? No one’s answering the phone.”
Leroux dropped into his chair, growling in frustration. “This is ridiculous.”
“You’re telling me. Our interagency protocols say someone should be there, but for whatever reason, they don’t seem to be tonight.”
Leroux blasted a lungful of air through his nose. “Hack it.”
Child gave a toothy smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“Here comes the second photo,” announced Tong, gesturing toward the screen. Leroux rose, there not enough detail yet for an identity, just a hairline visible. “Bring up the photos of her two male traveling companions.” He already knew from the description the man on the other end had given, that the second body wasn’t that of Professor Acton or his South African traveling companion, so they were operating under the assumption he was part of Courtney Tasker’s traveling party.
Tong quickly had both images up, the newly arriving image in between, the forehead appearing.
“Do we have enough for facial recognition?”
Tong shook her head. “I need the eyes.”
They appeared, closed and dead, Tong’s fingers flying over the keyboard, a series of dots and lines appearing over the image as it continued to stream in. The superimposed data points flashed, along with those on the image to the left. She turned in her chair. “It’s Dyson Bishop, sir.”
Leroux sighed. “Okay, let the director know. Someone will want to notify the family.”
Tong sent a message to Morrison’s office as Leroux watched the rest of the image download.
Man, he was just a kid!
Another blast erupted from between his lips.
Please, God, let the others be okay.
57
Acton Camp
Greater Kruger National Park, South Africa
“Wake up!”
Acton grunted, Courtney shaking him by the shoulder. “What?” he groaned.
“Wake up!”
The growl on the other side of the impossibly thin tent had him bolt upright in an instant, a surge of adrenaline rushing through his veins as his body prepared for the crisis at hand, millions of years of evolution designed for this very moment.
He extricated himself from the sleeping bag, searching for the flashlight, finding it in Courtney’s hands, it off, its purpose at the moment evidently that of a weapon. “Turn on the flashlight.”
“Won’t they see us?”
He raised his voice, hoping it might scare away what was probably a lioness or leopard—neither good prospects. “They’re the least of our concerns right now.” The light flicked on, it blinding, the sounds of their uninvited guest continuing unabated as it paced along the three exposed sides of the tent, its low growl signaling its intent—to nosh on a conveniently wrapped dinner.
He grabbed the gun, checking to make sure it was loaded, then handed her the knife. “If it comes through, I’ll try to shoot it, but if I don’t get it, use the knife to cut your way out of the tent and climb that rock. If it comes after you, go over the other side to their camp.”
“Then I’ll be their prisoner!”
“Yes, but you won’t be eaten alive.”
“But what about you?”
“I’ll try to hold it o
ff for as long as I can.”
“But you’ll die!”
“I’ll be dead anyway if it gets in here. Better me than both of us.”
Courtney’s face twisted into one of emotional agony and she grabbed him around the neck, hugging him hard, this evidently her thing. “I’m so sorry I was ever mean to you.”
He shrugged her off. “I need to be able to shoot. Now lie down flat against the back so you don’t get in the way.” He followed the sound of the great cat with the barrel of the gun, unable to see anything outside the tent, the decision to turn on the flashlight a mistake. “Turn that off,” he said, nodding toward the light in her hand. She flicked it off and he rapidly blinked, trying to adjust, still relying on his ears as the predator paced outside their thin nylon shelter.
“Get out of here!” he yelled in the deepest, loudest voice he could manage, keeping as far back from the creature as he could, constantly shifting his position. Courtney scrambled to keep out of the way as he hoped the extra two or three feet might give him the split second he would need to take aim, rather than just fire. “Go on! Get out of here!”
Courtney was now yelling too, the fear in her quavering voice obvious as she shifted behind him, keeping her feet toward their hunter—and that’s what it was, a hunter, there no doubt what they were in this equation—the prey.
And then there was silence.
“This is it!”
He took aim at where he thought it had stopped, saying a silent goodbye to Laura as a screeching growl erupted from the other side, four long slices of the night sky revealed as a claw tore open the tent. He adjusted his aim as almost 300 pounds of nature’s fury burst through the opening.
And fired.
58
Poacher’s Camp
Greater Kruger National Park, South Africa
Laura bolted awake, the others, tied to her, waking as well. Her head spun toward where the man on watch had been stationed when she finally drifted off, finding him just waking up, judging from the amount of eye rubbing going on. The leader, the murderer, Tladi, climbed out of his tent.
“What was that?”
The watch shrugged. “Dunno. Gunshot?”
“From where?”
Another shrug. “Couldn’t tell. It sounded close.”
It had to be James. For some reason, he had needed to fire a gun, probably the rifle that had been in their vehicle, and she could think of only one reason—a lion or some other creature had attacked him.
It was a single shot, so it had either worked, and he was safe, or he hadn’t been able to get off another shot, and he was being mauled to death at this very moment.
The thought nearly made her wretch.
She knew he was nearby. She had heard his birdcall, there no doubt in her mind it was him, he somehow having managed to follow them. It had sounded like it had come from above, atop the hill at their backs, he probably taking shelter on the other side, out of sight, but close.
If he were dying, these men could save him, though they might as easily kill him. Yet if he were as close as she thought he was, and being attacked by some animal, surely she would hear his cries.
And she heard nothing beyond what she had come to expect.
Tladi pointed at the top of the hill. “Go check it out.”
The lookout hopped from his perch on the hood of one of the vehicles, Laura’s heart hammering, debating what to do. If James were in trouble, they could help, but if he weren’t, if he had survived the ordeal, then he was about to be discovered.
What do I do?
She made her decision, putting her faith in her husband, in his ability to survive. The single shot followed by silence had to mean he was alive and well.
Or already dead.
She cleared her throat. “It didn’t come from there.”
Tladi turned toward her. “What?”
She shoved her chin toward the open grassland in front of them. “It came from that direction.”
Tladi’s eyes narrowed. “How would you know?”
“I was awake, unlike your lookout.”
The man glared at her then avoided eye contact with the boss.
“And why should I believe you?”
She shrugged. “You shouldn’t, but I’ve got no reason to lie.”
“Then why say anything?”
It was a question she hadn’t anticipated, her heart skipping a beat as she thought of a reply. She nodded toward the lookout. “Because this idiot is supposed to be protecting all of us while we sleep, and he’s not doing his job. Whoever fired that shot was probably protecting themselves from a lion or leopard. What if something had come along while he was sleeping? One of us could be dead right now. You could be dead right now.”
Tladi stared at her for a moment then started screaming at the lookout in their native tongue, the man cringing with the onslaught.
Gorman leaned toward her. “He’s saying that if he catches him asleep again, he’ll feed him to the lions himself. You should be careful, he won’t be too happy with you after this.”
Laura kept an eye on the proceedings. “I don’t care about that. We just need to survive a little longer.”
“Why? Do you know something we don’t know?”
She shook her head. “We just need to give Hugh time.”
But it wasn’t Reading that was going to save them, it was James, and she couldn’t risk telling the others in case they slipped up and revealed the fact he was nearby.
She just prayed he was okay, and that the single shot she had heard was him coming out on top in the battle between man and nature.
59
Acton Camp
Greater Kruger National Park, South Africa
Acton lay gasping for breath, the massive creature’s teeth inches from his throat, the stench of rotting meat overwhelming due to the animal’s poor flossing regimen. Courtney lay draped over both of them, the knife buried to the hilt in its back, a lucky plunge piercing the chest cavity, between the ribcage.
They had survived.
And the warmth he felt around his waist was either him having pissed himself, or the rapidly flowing blood from the now dead creature thanks to a well-placed shot to the upper-chest.
“Get off me,” he grunted, Courtney scrambling toward the back of the tent as if she had just realized what she was lying on. He strained against the weight, trying to roll the massive beast off him with no luck. He stared at Courtney, hugging her knees behind him. “A little help?”
She darted forward, her adrenal glands evidently pegged, and put both hands on the torso, pushing hard. Together they rolled the creature off, Acton finally pulling free. Grabbing the flashlight, he flicked it on, quickly confirming it was absolutely dead and not just in shock, then flicked it off.
“No! Leave it on!”
He held a bloody finger up to her lips. “Shhh. There’s no way they didn’t hear that shot. Stay completely quiet and listen.” He strained through the pounding in his ears to hear anything outside that might suggest they were about to be discovered, but heard nothing. “Okay, we need to move, and move quickly.”
“Why?”
“Because we’ve got a three hundred pound meal sitting here that every carnivore for miles is going to be smelling.”
“What do we do?”
He unzipped the tent, looking about in case the lioness had brought friends, then spotting nothing, grabbed the hind legs and pulled, Courtney soon helping. Clear of the tent, Acton scrambled back inside, reloaded the gun, then checked his boots for uninvited guests before putting them back on, doing the same for Courtney’s before handing them to her. “Always check.”
She nodded, checking again before jamming her feet into her sneakers. Acton grabbed their gear, stuffing it into the backpack, then packed up the tent, the entire endeavor taking less than five minutes.
“Where do we go?”
Acton had already been thinking about that very question, coming to a decision moments before. He pointed f
arther along the hill. “That way. If they’re going to investigate, they’ll come either over or around. This way will give us some warning.”
Courtney slung the backpack over her shoulders, Acton taking the lead with the rifle at the ready as they broke out into a jog, the night sky lighting their way, Acton’s biggest concern still not the poachers on the other side of the hill, but the fact they were both covered in blood, the scent of which was rapidly spreading.
This day just keeps getting better and better.
60
University College London Dig Site
Lower Nubia, Egypt
Leather checked his watch. Their chopper was another hour out. It would take them to Aswan where a private jet would be waiting, Laura Palmer part of a fractional private jet network, there a member aircraft in Cairo. He had just finished briefing Mitchell and his wife on what was going on when his satphone vibrated. He pulled it off his hip as Warren Reese, one of his trusted men, walked up to him.
“I’ve packed everything we should need. Are you sure the two of us is enough?”
Leather checked the call display. “Palmer would never agree to leave the students with any less protection. You and I can coordinate with the locals.” He took the call. “Leather.”
“Hey, Colonel, need a lift?”
His eyes narrowed, trying to place the voice that definitely sounded familiar. “Excuse me?”
“Look up.”
He tilted his head back and spotted a flashing beacon overhead, the rectangle of an open chute visible, and above that, the red and green running lights of an airplane. “Who is this?”
“A friend from the jungles of Brazil and the volcanoes of Iceland.”
Leather smiled, finally recognizing the voice of Burt Dawson, leader of the Delta team he had the pleasure of working with on several occasions. “Just how the hell are you planning on landing that thing here?”
Wages of Sin (A James Acton Thriller, #17) (James Acton Thrillers) Page 13