Luana (20 page)

“I am sorry most of all for Albright. I had thought that where the new drug was concerned I had won him over to my way of thinking. It now appears otherwise, appears that he has successfully deceived me. He was determined to exploit the discovery. Now it seems he will have his poor way with it.

“It will be said, perhaps, that I should have checked the craft more thoroughly before we departed. There was no reason to suspect, to believe that he would go this far.

“Of course, your father was quite right.” All eyes turned to the sound of that voice.

Albright was standing outside, the Express cradled lightly, but not lightly enough, in his arms.

“It wasn’t the fame your father so airily dismissed, no. I could have lived without that. It was only the money.” He was apologetic. “You see, where money is concerned I’m never myself.”

“Your humanity was never really a matter of debate, Albright,” said Barrett.

The scientist ignored him, looked instead at Isabel. “Your father was a brilliant, terribly foolish old man, Isabel. He discovered that a certain rare, but not impossible to locate, plant could be deprived of its stamen and pollen, ground together to make a fine powder, and then mixed with several other interesting things to produce a rather powerful new addictive drug. It’s not in a class with heroin, but ranks well above such mundane stimulants as cocaine and LSD.

“Oh, I was perfectly honest when I talked about carrying on his work! My interests merely were channelized along that one line. Unfortunately, I’m not the chemist your father was. With only a few scattered notes to work from, and what I could draw out of him before he left, I was able to concoct but a pale limitation of the pure product. Even so, there was an immediate demand for it. Enough to bring a tiny income, to be sure—but nothing compared to what the really refined material could demand.

“Can you imagine a new drug, more powerful than anything but heroin, highly addictive yet not as lethal—and you the only supplier of the market?

“And now, dear Isabel, you’ve made it possible for that dream to come true. I doubt the formula’s hidden in that diary . . . you certainly didn’t mention it. But the three workbooks . . . yes, it’ll be in there, properly identified and annotated. John was consistently methodical.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Albright!” Barrett gnawed his lower lip and tried to sound more in command than he felt.

“Rest assured I have no intention of it, Mr. Barrett.” He took two steps backwards. “You’ve been rather a problem, and yet it turns out your persistence in this journey has been of benefit after all.

“I can get all of you with just the two shots, I think. The automatic was being cleaned, which makes things more difficult—but not impossible. You needn’t worry, Isabel. You will not be in the line of fire.” He looked at her in a way that reminded her of the ants. “I’d prefer not to kill you just yet, anyhow. Yes, two shots from this cannon in such close quarters ought to kill at least one of you and wound the others. I can reload, then.”

“Now, let’s talk this over, Albright,” Barrett began cautiously. He took a step towards the portal, hands out, palms up. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement. You can have your formula and—”

Albright laughed. “Talk to stall me? What do you think this is—a movie? Where the man with the drop chatters for an hour while the hero creeps up behind him? Goodbye, Barrett—”

Barrett threw himself to the floor, knocking Isabel inside the cabin door. Murin tried to bury himself in the metal under the control panel and Luana dove out the other side. At the same instant there was a tremendous explosion.

Barrett blinked, slowly began to pull himself off the stunned Isabel. Hope rose every time he tried a new joint, an additional muscle, and found it working. Hands pushed against floor and metal, and his body moved. Heart, lungs, brain—the machine was still operating.

From under the control board, Murin stared uncertainly back at him. The only blood on his partner was in his eyes.

Carefully, they both peered around the edge of the open door. Knife in hand, Luana was already outside. Slowly she replaced it in her waist sheath, staring down at what was left of Albright.

Barrett became aware of a shaky voice very close. “George . . . George, did he—”

“Hush, Izzy.” He held her close, blocking her view of the outside. “It’s all right, now.”

There was a rising bubble of conversation outside. The bearers had finally arrived.

“I never believed in miracles,” he continued, “and I still don’t. But fortuitous coincidences just went up a couple of points.”

Across from them, Murin was cursing nonstop, an amazing combination of Swahili and English invective, spiced with something else. Afrikaans, Barrett guessed.

“What . . . what happened to—?” Isabel finally managed to gasp. She was shaking in his arms. The confluence was comfortable, but all he could do by way of soothing her was to stroke her hair.

“It’s not as bad as the ants, Izzy, but . . . well, the gun blew up. He tried to shoot us and it blew up.” He shook his head. “Might have been me, just as easy. Naw, the goof probably did something earlier like stick the barrel in the ground and got some dirt in it, thank Vishnu!” He turned and had another look at the mess outside and tried to reconstruct what had happened.

Albright had raised the gun and pulled both triggers, and the two .577 shells had gone off inside the chambers. Of the Express itself nothing was left except a few slivers of carved wooden stock scattered here and there. Later, they found an eight-centimeter-long section of barrel driven into the trunk of a tree like a railroad spike into a tie.

From the waist up, Albright was gone. One shell from the Express, properly placed, would knock down a five-ton bull elephant. Albright may have lived inconspicuously, but his going was spectacular.

Kobenene could only stand over the remains of his partner—his former partner, he corrected himself—and curse silently. Damn the idiot’s impatience! But if the scientist had been willing to try this, then they’d obviously found something in the plane to incriminate him. And if they’d found that, perhaps the formula the tall chemist—though he wasn’t so tall now, Kobenene reflected, fighting down a giggle—had been hoping to find was there also.

Possibly, then, he’d only lost a partner (not a very competent one at that) and gained a formula. If only the
njinga,
the fool, had waited! Kobenene would have told him, when the proper time came. There was no reason to suppose the simpleton would try anything as direct as outright group murder. And so soon after finding the plane. And—he reflected self-righteously—without telling
him,
either!

Served him right.

Days ago, Kobenene had slipped quietly out of his tent while the camp was still asleep. It wasn’t hard to retrace their trail in the forest and re-locate the
sikari
tree they’d passed. He’d collected a cupful of the thick, brown-green sap in his drinking tin, then carefully poured it down both barrels of the big gun.

A single morning of baking in the sun while riding on Barrett’s back would harden the centimeters of gummy liquid like cement. And then, the first time he tried to fire the gun—

Things might have gotten embarrassing, if enough of the gun remained to reveal the hardened sap within. But Kobenene had judged the Express’s explosive power correctly. It had disintigrated rather thoroughly. He ought to be in the clear.

Even so, after they finished burying Albright’s remains, Barrett came over and took him aside.

“Jambo,
Kobenene.”

“Jambo njema,”
the big man replied warily, trying to sound at once depressed by his master’s death and receptive to whatever Barrett had to say. “Hello to you.”

“Kobenene, we’re understaffed, as you damn well know. So I’m willing to keep you on and pay you whatever Albright was paying you. I’ll also guarantee your back wages. Not that I’d abandon you in the middle of this anyway. But before I officially welcome you as one of the gang, I’d appreciate the answers to a few questions.”

“Yes, bwana,” Kobenene replied deferentially.

“And screw that ‘bwana’ stuff! My name’s Barrett.”

“Yes, Barrett.” This white man’s false humility did not fool him!

“Just how much did you know about Albright’s intents and ideas, hmmm? Did he put you up to that
pigana ua?”

“Bw . . . Mr. Barrett? What a strange thing to say! I tell you I am as surprised by Mr. Albright’s actions as you are.” Which was quite true. “I did not volunteer for the
pigana.
The men nominated me. Why suspect me of such a thing?”

“Because Albright was only worried about bumping off me, Murin, and Luana. He didn’t express any concern about you.”

“Why should he, Mr. Barrett? You said yourself once that bearers would go with whoever paid them.”

“Yeah, sure.” Barrett eyed the other uncertainly. “But you’re no bearer, Kobenene. And I think you were more than a valet, though I’ve no way of proving that. Just a hunch.” Kobenene smiled innocently. “Tell me, how would you have reacted if he’d been able to kill us all? Oh, I know how you did react—since he failed,” he added sarcastically. “Naturally you were shocked, outraged, incredulous.

“But suppose it was us you’d just buried? What then?”

Kobe tried not to let his growing nervousness show. Damn the man’s persistence! Careful now!

“I would have been shocked and outraged and incredulous, Mr. Barrett. And would have done whatever was necessary to save my own skin.”

Barrett grunted. “And now?”

“I confess to having felt somewhat mixed feelings towards Mr. Albright. After all, he was, as you say, my employer. However, any lingering sense of loyalty was obviated by his onerous attempt on your persons.”

“Bearer, huh? Valet, huh?”

“I speak good English. What does that prove? Your swahili is as good, or better.” He could tell from Barrett’s expression that the flattering truth had struck home. “When he tried to kill you, I say, he automatically cut off any obligation on my part. But I still prefer to give the dead the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he went temporarily insane. Greed can drive men to act unstably sometimes.”

“Yeah,” agreed Barrett embarrassed, aware that similar allegations had been whispered about him. He was not happy with the comparison. “There are a lot of greedy people in the world. All right, Kobe,” he concluded reluctantly. “You’re on the payroll.”

“I shall try to do my best, Mr. Barrett.” He grinned broadly. “If you will recall, I always try to do my best.”

Barrett nodded and turned away without saying anything. Kobenene watched him go. A pity. He had more in common with this man than with Albright. It would be a shame to have to kill him. It made the big man sad to think on it.

Barrett’s mind was also active. He trusted the fat pig about as far as he could throw him. But he’d rather have him believing and thinking he’d been accepted. He’d be more off-guard if he got any ideas.

He trusts me about as far as he can throw me,
thought Kobenene,
but he’d rather have me believing and thinking I’ve been accepted. He thinks I’ll be more off-guard.

Kobenene would not repeat Albright’s error of impatience. He would bide his time ’till the proper moment—all the way back to Nairobi, if necessary. The opportunity must be foolproof and must present itself—

Chapter XI

He’d worried about Isabel all night, but the following morning she was alert and ready to leave. Apparently she’d fully recovered from the double trauma of finding the plane and losing Albright.

Either that or she was hiding it well.

“You’re positive there’s nothing more you want to do here?” he asked her, smiling reassuringly. “I don’t think you’ll be coming back this way, soon. Not if I have anything to do with it, anyway.”

“I think we’ve done everything, George.” She hitched her light pack higher on her shoulders. “I . . . I’d have liked to bury them, but—”

Luana heard, could not keep down the hazy memories. She wasn’t being blunt, only honest.

“The jungle buried them. It’s better that way. I am not sure—it was so long ago—but I think, and hope, that Chaugh’s mother did it.”

Isabel’s face twisted and she looked at her sister oddly. For the first time she clearly saw the tremendous gulf that separated them.

“That . . . that’s nauseating!”

“Would you prefer me to say they had been taken by the hyena and jackal and carrion birds? Or buried, as is your strange custom, to be food for worms and grubs and dung beetles?”

Isabel was not mollified. “I suppose that in a similar situation you’d . . . eat me.”

Luana was equally defiant. “And why not? Flesh is flesh, meat is meat.”

“Okay, girls,” Barrett interposed himself hurriedly. “You’ve each made your point. I think we’d better get started.”

“Yes, George,” Isabel agreed. “But why the hurry? If, as Luana insists, we’ve nothing to fear from the Wanderi any more, there’s no need to run back to Mpanda.”

“We’re not going back to Mpanda—or Nairobi—yet.”

“What are you talking about?”

He met her gaze. “Listen, Isabel! You’ve had your dream come true. Now, by God, I’ve a chance, a real chance, to take a crack at mine!” He was a little surprised at the vehemence of his assertion. He turned to Luana.