A Stirring from Salem

by Sheri Anderson

  “Just goes to show how high the corruption here goes,” John said, disgusted. “Obviously why I’m keeping this close to the vest. We all believe in signs, Shane, and I landed in the heart of this for a reason. I tried to get into the ISA computers myself but I’ve lost my clearance.”

  “I’m all yours,” Shane said simply.

  “I need you to check on an Asian couple for me. Jiao-jie and Wen Xing. They’re importers, but I think I know what they’re exporting.”

  “Any chance you can spell those names for me?”

  “As a matter of fact, I can.”

  John retrieved the business card he’d gotten from the couple and spelled the names for Shane. He began to pace as he spoke, his adrenaline pumping.

  “They’ve got their own private jet on the airstrip here. A Falcon 200,” he added.

  “Isn’t that what you owned?” Shane asked.

  “Yep,” John answered. “And if I’m right about this, I need one more little favor. I need you to break its emergency security code for me. Mine was registered with the builder of the aircraft. Dassault. Surely you can hack into their system for me.”

  “I’m sure I can,” Shane assured him.

  “Think you can get it done before you order breakfast?”

  “I’ll do my best,” Shane repeated. “Right now, all you can do is wait.”

  “Wait by this friggin’ phone.” John’s voice was filled with frustration.

  “And this is the only number where I can reach you,” Shane said as a statement more than a question.

  “Guess they don’t think you need good cell service in paradise.”

  “Stay cool,” Shane reminded him.

  “I know the drill. But I’m like a caged animal here, Donovan,” John said pointedly. “And time is of the essence.”

  “I hear you. In our line of work, isn’t it always?”

  John hung up the phone, but he couldn’t stop pacing.

  “Hey,” he heard softly.

  Marlena was finally opening her eyes.

  “Hi, Doc,” John said as he entered the bedroom and quickly moved to her side. “You were really out of it.”

  “I still am a bit,” she admitted as she yawned. “I didn’t realize what an emotional day it would be.”

  “Me, too,” John said with his own meaning.

  “How did I get back here?”

  Marlena’s mind was fuzzy, exactly the side effect Cornelius had counted on to keep Bill’s mind a muddle.

  “Bill brought you.”

  “He did? I didn’t realize I was so loopy.”

  Outside, she could see that the streaks of coral and purple in the sky were fading.

  “Did we miss the game ride?” she asked.

  “Do you still want to go?” he answered.

  “Well…would you hate me if I just rested a while longer?”

  “I can keep myself busy,” he answered. “Why don’t you sleep some more and we’ll have a late dinner here.”

  “I love you,” she said.

  He tenderly kissed her. “You might want to get comfortable.”

  “I’m fine,” she said drowsily. Her eyes were still heavy from the Rohypnol, and she began to drift back to sleep.

  John moved from the bed and took the phone receiver out to the deck to wait for Shane’s call. The stars were emerging like a blanket of twinkle lights laid across a heavenly garden. In the distance John could see a loping herd of impala, and he could hear the trumpet of an elephant.

  It was now fully night. The animals were stirring. And soon, at the hands of mercenary men and women, some of them would be dying.

  Throughout all of Africa, open Land Rovers were taking astounded tourists to view the wonder of nature at its purest. Rangers from neighboring game farms were sharing their sightings over walkie-talkies.

  Shut off from the pressures and problems of their day-to-day lives, these foreigners were allowed to be quiet. To look inward. To see the world in a way they’d never experienced. To commune with nature, God, and their own inner voices.

  Others from around the world would get to see it through Vince Castle’s lens as a backdrop for his models. Scarlett. Nikki. Brigitta. And now Charley.

  Charley understood the importance of this assignment going well. And it was not only that the client was spending a fortune. She had also come to realize the importance of showcasing South Africa. As Charley had flown over their locations on the plane, she had seen a country of mind-boggling contrasts. Beautiful people living in supreme wealth or villagers living in poverty. Billionaires in hilltop Cape Town mansions enjoying the finest the world has to offer, while tribesmen in outlying villages lived on less than two dollars a day. Extremes isolated by distance and politics and religions that were as black and white as the zebra’s stripes. Yet the people of South Africa were also constantly struggling to find common ground, and they were making progress.

  The World Cup in 2010 had given the world a glimpse of the progress the country had made, jokes about the bleating vuvuzela trumpets aside. Now, by being included in this photo shoot, Charley would be one of the country’s ambassadors.

  As they climbed into the open Rover, she saw Brendan’s silhouette approaching. Her heart leapt.

  She nervously started playing with her hair. Oh, God, what is happening to me?

  “Everybody here?” the ranger asked as he emerged into the light. She saw it was not Brendan but Ben, the ranger they had had when they arrived.

  “Where’s Brendan?” Scarlett said, smiling through her perfect veneers. “He was a lot cuter than you.”

  “Had to see his girl,” Ben answered. “She just got back from holiday. It is amazing to see them together. Wish I had someone to love that much.” Then he changed the subject. “Let’s go.”

  The tracker climbed into his seat at the front of the Rover and they took off.

  Charley had been aching to see Brendan and feel the warmth of his lips again. But he had to see “his girl,” she thought to herself as her heart now sank.

  The ride through the natural, rough terrain with its hills, valleys, stones, and fallen branches, was difficult as always, but Charley’s mind was a million miles away.

  She wasn’t one to give her heart easily and, with her commitment to abstinence, had never given her body to anyone. Until Brendan, she had never wanted to. Because when she looked into his eyes, what reflected back was pure love. At least she had thought so.

  He’s committed to someone else? she said to herself. What was I thinking?

  Charley gazed out into the vastness, her chestnut hair blowing softly in the wind. Vince’s eyes were on her, and he was mesmerized.

  “Stop,” he told Ben as he put his hand on the ranger’s shoulder. Ben didn’t know why, but he did as he was asked.

  Vince positioned his camera.

  Charley was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice as Vince began snapping photos of her, focusing on her face with its enigmatic, haunting expression. Vince saw it could be interpreted a thousand different ways, and it was perfect. The light from the headlights and the stars lit her in a way that was magic.

  “That’s our money shot!” Vince said with an enthusiasm he hadn’t felt since he’d shot Scarlett’s first cover.

  “What?” Charley said as she was brought back to reality.

  Vince blew Charley a kiss, gave her a thumbs-up, and then signaled for Ben to continue the ride.

  From her position behind Vince, Scarlett saw and heard it all. And she knew, as clear as the African sky, that Charley, not she, would be on the anniversary-issue cover. And when Scarlett was relegated to the editorial pages, no one would be clamoring for her to do big-money endorsements.

  Scarlett stared into the vastness of the Timbavati, deep in thought as the wind tousled her hair.

  Th
ere are millions to be made with rhino horn, she thought to herself. Who needs the limelight anyway? But as she noticed Vince clicking through the shots he’d just taken of Charley, her smile faded sadly.

  I need it, that’s who.

  “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free,” John uttered as he gripped the telephone handset, waiting and hoping for Shane’s call.

  John was quoting the words he had held as his mantra ever since he’d seen the Bible verse etched into the marble entrance of the CIA.

  “But this truth ain’t gonna free you two,” John said as he glanced at Jiao-jie and Wen’s business card. “With luck, it’ll bury you.”

  The handset finally rang and John answered.

  “Was I right?” John asked, anxious for news.

  “I’m looking for John Black,” was the confused answer.

  “Shane?” John asked.

  “Donovan? No, it’s Patch. And why are you expecting a call from Shane, anyway?”

  Patch and Shane knew each other from their ISA days…not to mention that their wives were sisters. Still Shane, the erudite Londoner, was as different from rough-and-tumble Steve Johnson as chalk and cheese.

  “Strange things going down over here, my friend, and after I hear from him, we may have to jump into action.”

  Patch looked to Joe, who was soundly sleeping on the sofa, and ignored John’s request. “Is Kayla with you?”

  “Haven’t heard from her. Why?” John was thrown.

  “We had a pretty bad fight, and she took off for the clinic. I left messages, but she hasn’t picked up,” Patch said with growing concern in his voice.

  “Sorry,” John answered. “And if she had called us, Marlena’s in no condition to see anyone. The day really did her in.”

  They both heard a clicking on the phone.

  “It could be Shane,” John said quickly. “What equalizers do you have?”

  “Guns?” Patch asked, startled. Having worked undercover at one time, Patch knew exactly what John meant. “I have a Smith & Wesson M&P. Why, what the hell’s happening?”

  “Hold on,” John snapped as he clicked onto the other call. It was Shane.

  “Those two have more aliases than a Vegas brothel,” Shane told him.

  John’s heart began beating faster as it always had when he was on assignment.

  He conferenced in Patch, and they quickly filled him in on John’s suspicions and Shane’s confirmation. The three spoke with a professional shorthand they had developed when all had worked in various capacities with Salem’s branch of the ISA.

  Suddenly, it felt like the great old times they’d had in Salem.

  “The security code for the plane?” John asked.

  Shane rattled off a series of numbers, and John smiled widely. If anyone could hack a computer system, it was Shane Donovan.

  “Get over here with that M&P, Patch,” John directed his cohort. “We need to check what they have stashed.”

  “As soon as I connect with Kayla, I’ll be there,” Patch said with urgency. “My wife’s my top priority.”

  “We understand,” John said as he looked at dozing Marlena.

  “Better than you can imagine,” Shane said, as there was a knock on his hotel room door. His estranged wife had arrived.

  “Just remember my window is less than two hours.”

  ***

  Patch realized the enormity of what John had asked him. He also felt the pressure of an MIA wife and the son who’d just gone through the most traumatic day of his life.

  It was dark as pitch out now, and he was feeling uneasy.

  He knew that Kayla would be furious with him for waking Joe, but since he couldn’t reach her, he had no choice.

  “Get home, Sweetness,” he said under his breath, and he went to retrieve the pistol he’d purchased to keep in the house for protection.

  Though Kayla hated the idea of guns in the house, she knew that in South Africa, a gun was a necessity in case of emergency.

  Near the entrance to the hallway to the bedrooms was a large teak bookcase with a carved fascia just above eye level. Patch gave the fascia a light tap, and it flipped open. His “Military and Police” revolver was inside. He took a box of clips from behind it, put them in the pocket of his khaki vest, and jammed the gun into the waistband of his pants. Then he went to rouse his miserably unhappy little boy.

  “Sorry about this, Bud,” he said warmly as he reached to awaken the sleeping toddler.

  But just as he was about to touch him, Patch heard a car in the driveway.

  “Thank the Lord and pass the ammunition,” he said wryly as he heard the engine turn off and then footsteps.

  “I am sorrier than sorry, Sweetness,” he said as sincerely as he could as he opened the front door.

  But it wasn’t Kayla, it was Beauty.

  In her hands was a handmade woven basket. She presented it to Patch as a peace offering.

  “Mr. Patch, I am sorry for today,” Beauty said in her click-tongued Xhosa accent. “I have made this for Joe and Ms. Kayla. Please tell them I ask forgiveness.”

  Patch looked out into the driveway. There was a twenty-year-old Suzuki idling, with a young man behind the wheel.

  “Who brought you?” he asked.

  “My cousin,” she answered. “He knew how upset I was and—“

  “And can he leave you with Joe until we get back?” Patch asked.

  “So Ms. Kayla forgives me?” Beauty asked wide-eyed.

  “She will,” he answered, determined to believe it. “Right now I need your help.”

  And I’m the one who’s going to need forgiveness if she gets back here before I do, Steve thought grimly as he ushered Beauty inside.

  The hues of the skins and coats of the animals in the wild have been divinely created for their protection. The white and black rhino are no exception. Large, lumbering animals who often travel in twos as they forage for the plants that sustain them, they are both closer in color to the grays of the dust that often swirls around them. Even at their size, they can hide easily during the daylight and they are nearly impossible to spot at night.

  But Cornelius’ tracker, Maalik, lived up to the meaning of his name: experienced. With forty years in the veld, he knew the sounds of each animal’s footsteps, their habits, and the sound their silences made when they hid. He was a family man with seven children, his ailing mother, and two siblings all living in a nearby village. All counted on him for support, and this was one way he could provide for them. It was no different than hunting to him. Except that it was illegal.

  Cornelius sat with Bill’s Browning A-Bolt on his lap, waiting for Maalik to return.

  Maalik had gone into the brush where he sat silently. Then he stealthily made his way back to Cornelius’ pickup.

  “Very big,” Maalik nodded, indicating the size of their prey.

  “And it goes to the Xings,” Cornelius answered.

  I’m a man of my word, he thought. Too bad that word is “bastard.”

  Within five minutes, the rhino was dead.

  Maalik retrieved his hatchet from Cornelius’ pickup and, with the efficiency of a hacksaw, had the treasured horn severed quickly.

  Black rhino, he said to himself. Endangered. Maybe they wouldn’t be if they weren’t so big and stupid.

  Cornelius stared at the trophy that would soon find its way to Vietnam or China.

  This’ll make them happy, he thought. And then, it’ll all be for Scarlett and me.

  Vince was elated with the game ride for just those shots with Charley. He didn’t realize or care that in capturing that moment he had invaded her soul and heartbreak.

  It had been a year of loss for her, and this trip was supposed to be a new beginning. Now she was feeling more isolated and lonely than ever.

 
They had seen the most magnificent sites in the last twenty-four hours, but when the Rovers made their way through a clearing and up a small hill for their last location shoot, what they saw took their collective breaths away. Everyone’s but Charley’s. That had been stolen when she realized Brendan wasn’t free to love her.

  The Bedouin tent was surrounded with dozens of flickering Moroccan lanterns. Inside, tables were set with the finest china, silver, and linens. This feast would include the last setups at Londolani, and then they’d all be free to party.

  Several of the Xhosa staff members played stringed musical instruments, and all were dressed in white. Except for the ranger, who was chatting with the crisply dressed bartender.

  Then the flickering lights cast a glow on the ranger’s beaming face, and Charley could see that it was Brendan.

  She felt as if her stomach had fallen all the way to her toes. He obviously had seen “his girl,” she thought. No wonder he’s smiling.

  The models, assistants, and production crew exited the Rovers and were greeted with pear and champagne cocktails. All were happily toasting one another. Except for Charley. She was still firmly planted in the Rover.

  Why couldn’t I be in freezing London…

  From her vantage point, she observed Brendan in all his glory. Floppy hair and cleft chin. Eyes that smiled when he did. A body that melded with her own. A body…turning toward her.

  Charley froze in place. She wanted to die. She’d never been a shrinking violet, but she’d also never been a fool.

  Now, there he was, smiling as though he was thrilled to see her, champagne glass in hand and walking in her direction.

  Suck it up, Charley, she thought as he approached. Be nice, be pleasant. After all, he’s only a guy.

  Putting on her bravest face, Charley got out of the Rover to meet him.

  “I thought for a minute you weren’t here,” he said as his eyes met hers, the firelight making him look all the more angelic. “About earlier…” he added as he handed her the crystal flute.