Treasure of the Golden Cheetah (24 page)

“Harry?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t think Wheeler’s death has anything to do with that snake in the box, do you?”

Harry put a hand on her shoulder, then quickly removed it. “Absolutely not. That was just a robbery by a crazy native.

Don’t
you
go jumping at nothing now. I’m counting on at least one clear head here.”

“Is everyone in position?” shouted Julian. He didn’t wait for a reply. “Does everyone have their weapon?” It was past noon and as hot as a sauna, but the director insisted on shooting then rather than wait for the following morning. His drive to film resembled an addictive need.

“You told me to put the rifle in the tent,” said Wells. He sounded irritable.

The heat’s getting to everyone
, Jade thought.
They’re not used to working in it.

Julian scowled. “Does everyone who is
supposed
to have their weapon at hand have it?”

Since that meant only Murdock and Cynthia, they were the only two who responded in the affirmative. Cynthia still looked pale, but Julian considered that to be an asset for this scene. “We found mine in the tent,” she said. “I have it now.”

“Good. And everyone else has their rifle stacked by a tree or in their tent.” This time it was an edict, not a question. “Now, I want this in one take. No wasting film, you hear?”

Budendorfer waved a hand tentatively, as though afraid to speak out.

“Well?” demanded Julian.

“Rex, the Chagga men aren’t here yet.”

“Of course they’re not here yet. Do you think I can’t see that they’re not here? But we might as well shoot the climax while we’re waiting.”

Budendorfer glanced at Brown, who shrugged. “Uh, boss? Which one of us do you want to film that?”

“Both of you!” roared Julian. “I need two angles.” He studied the setting and the light. “Steve, you keep your lens trained on Cynthia’s face. Lloyd, you take a broader shot, but get tight on Wells in his death scene.”

Jade tapped Wells on the shoulder. “You die in this scene?” He nodded. “Does that mean you’re almost done with the movie?”

“No,” he explained. “We’re just doing location scenes here. There’s still a lot to shoot on the set back in Los Angeles.”

Jade had already noticed that the story was often filmed out of sequence. Sam had done the same thing and explained the importance of taking advantage of lighting as well as not wasting time changing costumes if the same ones would be worn in a later scene. While she understood the concept, she found it confusing and wondered how the actors kept it all straight in their heads.

“Why are you supposed to die?” she asked.

“I’m supposed to be in love with Cynthia’s character,” Wells said.

Jade nodded. “But she still loves her husband?”

“Right. Now Murdock is obsessed with the treasure. He wants it all to himself. So he’s arranged this native uprising in an attempt to kill off Hall. Only the servant girl interferes. That’s where Bebe comes in.”

“The reincarnated lover, correct?” asked Jade.

“That’s right. She doesn’t want Hall killed. She sees him as Menelik reincarnated. So when Murdock intends to shoot Hall, she pushes his hand away; his gun shoots wild and kills me, as I’m busy rushing in to save Cynthia.” He moved his hands back and forth as though he had little puppet figures attached to them. “See?”

“I see.” Jade frowned.

“But you still look confused,” said Wells.

Jade shrugged. “I suppose it’s tragic and will bring tears to the eyes of the audience. But I expected that in the end Mr. Hall’s and Miss Malta’s characters would be reunited in death on the mountain, and you and Miss Porter would go back together.”

Wells stared at her, mouth agape. “Why, that’s brilliant, Miss del Cameron,” he said.

“Jade,” she corrected. “Just call me Jade. After several poker games, it’s permissible.”

“Yes, Jade.” Wells blinked a few times without speaking. “Um, excuse me for a minute, um, Jade.” He trotted off towards the director. “Rex, I have an idea.”

Movement at the edge of camp caught Jade’s attention. Zakayo and the Chagga men had arrived. Mr. Julian noticed them as well, for he motioned for Wells to stop for a moment.

“Hascombe!” Mr. Julian bellowed. “Go tell those men to sit down out of the way and watch. Oh, and try to explain blanks to them while you’re at it.”

Jade watched Harry pull the Chagga men aside and saw the confusion on their faces as he tried to explain a gunshot that didn’t kill. She thought this would be a good opportunity to ask Zakayo about Rehema and see if he knew anything about her death or about the snake. The director’s next edict squelched that idea.

“Del Cameron! I need you.” Mr. Julian slapped Wells on the back. “Good idea, Hank. Glad I thought of it. Talmadge, clutch your arm or something when you do the fall for Hank. We’ll put his arm in a splint for the final scenes. Del Cameron!” he shouted louder.

“I’m right next to you, Mr. Julian,” Jade said.

“Good. I need that cheetah in this again. Think he can run in and alert Cynthia to her danger just in the nick of time?”

“Probably,” said Jade. “But I didn’t think Biscuit was in any of these contemporary scenes. Isn’t he supposed to be Menelik’s pet?”

“He is, but I thought maybe his reincarnation should come in to save his master’s wife. Should add a mystical touch. Very big with audiences. Besides, he already knocked down that native woman.”

“But cheetahs don’t live in these forests. It wouldn’t make any sense.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s the exciting part. Where did this cheetah come from, right? Trust me. It will work.” He turned his back to her. “Listen up, everyone. A few changes. I’m not killing Wells. He’s just going to get a wing clipped.”

“Why?” asked Hall.

“Trust me, Conrad,” said Mr. Julian. “I’ve got a great new idea. Just came to me. Now. Let’s show these natives how to act. Men, get in your places. We’re going to film you firing first so we can get your faces. Then we’ll do the scene with Woodrow and Bebe. After that, we’ll shoot the action again, this time focused on the natives.”

Budendorfer and Brown hauled their heavy equipment to the spots picked out for them while Bebe argued some point with the director.

Harry joined Jade as she knelt beside Biscuit and stroked his sleek sides.

“Did you ask Zakayo about the snake?” she asked him.

“No. He’s too excited about this pretend attack right now. Besides, it’s going to get pretty noisy in a moment, even shooting blanks.”

As if to punctuate his statement, Julian yelled, “Action!” and the actors leaped into motion. They dropped their playing cards, jumped up from their chairs, and sent them clattering to the earth. After they ran to their tents and grabbed their rifles, the clearing burst into a cacophony of noises. In addition to the rifle fire, several birds and a nearby troop of olive baboons screeched in fear. Two minutes later, Mr. Julian yelled, “Cut!” and silence reigned again.

The Chagga men were clearly impressed by the display. Two of them inspected the trees that were directly in the line of fire and marveled that they weren’t marked in any way.

Next Mr. Julian directed Murdock and Bebe in their scene. Budendorfer covered them while Brown trained his camera on Wells’ anguished face. Then they shot Talmadge as he stood in for Wells and made a dramatic fall backwards, rolling in and out of the smoldering campfire. This time, the Chagga men held back, clearly disturbed when Cynthia rushed to his side and cradled his head in her lap. But when Talmadge moved aside and Wells took his place on Cynthia’s lap, they cheered as the double stood and brushed himself off, obviously uninjured.

“Now, the final take. I hope,” Mr. Julian added as he stared at the Chagga. “Hascombe, did you explain what they’re supposed to do?”

“They know they’re supposed to fall,” Harry said, “but not when.”

“Tell them to fall when they see the man shoot at them,” Julian ordered, his voice heavy with exasperation. He pointed to McAvy and Wells. “Show ’em how it’s done.”

Wells walked twenty paces from McAvy and turned to face him. McAvy aimed his rifle at Wells’ chest and fired. Wells dropped, clutching his rib cage. Then he stood again and showed the Chagga that there were no marks on him. The Chagga nodded appreciatively.

Harry repeated the instructions to Zakayo, who already understood most of it. Zakayo, in turn, explained to his men, who nodded. They fairly bounced with excitement, finding themselves a part of something unusual. Jade assumed it would give them a fresh story to regale the village with for many months to come.

“And Hascombe,” shouted Julian, “tell that interpreter I want
him
to creep up in front of Cynthia. Explain lurking to him. Might as well use the one man who can understand.”

Mr. Julian grabbed a Chagga man and hauled him by the arm to his spot. After he pointed to it, stood the man on it, then pointed to the American aiming at him, each man understood what was required of him and followed the director to his own mark. In the meantime, Harry explained Zakayo’s part to him.

Julian interrupted with more orders. “I’m going to yell ‘ac tion’ and I want them to start waving their spears and knives in the air. Tell them to shriek, too, Hascombe. But tell them not to leave their spots. Then I’m going to point to you men,” he explained to the Americans. “Fire in turn. Count three before the next man fires. That way these natives won’t all fall at once. Hopefully.”

Zakayo again passed on the instructions and the Chagga all nodded their understanding.

“Del Cameron!”

“Still here, Mr. Julian.” Jade walked up, holding Biscuit’s lead.

“Get your cat ready. When I yell, ‘Now!’ you call to him or do whatever you need to do to get him to run in front of Miss Porter.”

“He’ll come when I call to him. Don’t worry.”

“Cynthia,” continued Julian, “that cheetah’s going to race by. That makes you look up at the last minute so you can fire and save yourself. Then you run to where Hank is lying, wounded. Does everyone understand? Brown, I want you covering that part only. Got it?”

Jade unclipped Biscuit’s lead and removed his collar. “Stay,” she ordered. Then she trotted around to the other side of the set, making sure to remain out of camera range.

“And action!”

Julian pointed to McAvy and he fired his rifle. On cue, the Chagga man across from him clutched his chest and fell screaming. One by one they fell, down the line like ducks in a shooting gallery, each one trying to outdo the others in drama. Clearly, Talmadge’s fall had impressed them.

Jade watched as the Chagga men threw themselves whole heartedly into their roles. If Julian wasn’t happy with this, then nothing would please him, she thought. The display certainly impressed her, and she noticed that even McAvy’s and Murdock’s faces blanched at the realism.

“Now!”

“Biscuit! To me!” Jade shouted. Immediately the cheetah raced towards her. Jade had chosen her position so that the great cat could just see her behind the tent on the side nearest Cynthia. Zakayo stalked on the opposite end of the tent, out of Jade’s view.

Her faith in her pet’s intelligence and obedience wasn’t misplaced. Biscuit tore in front of Cynthia in a flash of creamy gold and black, leaping a tent peg on the way. The actress, who’d been working to quickly load her rifle from a box of cartridges, jumped up and fired.

“And cut,” yelled Julian. “That was damned good! Budendorfer, Brown, did you get it?”

“That cat’s probably going to be a blur, Rex, but—”

“But that makes it eerier,” Mr. Julian said. “Hascombe, tell those natives they can get up now.”

Harry took the nearest Chagga by the arm and hoisted him to his feet. He clapped him on the back and grinned. The other men jumped up on their own, chattering to one another with a lot of laughter. “Come on, Zakayo,” called Harry from a distance. “You, too.”

Jade walked around the tent, Biscuit at her side. She took one look at the hole in the interpreter’s chest and the growing pool of red liquid underneath him and dropped to her knees beside him, her heart racing. “I need the first-aid kit, now!” she shouted. But in her heart, she knew it was already too late.

CHAPTER 15

—The Traveler

THE CALL FOR THE MEDICAL KIT CAME OUT AS AN AUTOMATIC RESPONSE, as did Jade’s subsequent actions. Her left hand seized her own pocket kerchief and pressed it against the wound to stanch the blood while her right fingers felt Zakayo’s neck for a pulse. But her mind saw other scenes.

For a moment, she was a mile from the front lines in France, kneeling beside a young corporal. She could almost smell the gunpowder and decay, hear the blasting shellfire. A medic’s station had been shelled only a few minutes before she arrived in her ambulance to retrieve the wounded. From her position, she saw part of the corporal’s face, complete with the peach fuzz of youth. The other half had been blown away.