Part 13 (1/2)
”Tell me,” she insisted.
He seemed to be weighing something in his head. ”He said that he feels bad for your husband. He says you're not worth it.”
She turned a playful scowl on Kuntolo, who glared at Temba. BaMbuti had a fun sense of humor, Sam decided.
”I want to show you something,” Temba said. He turned away, gesturing for her to follow. She ran after him through the maize. The green plants rustled around them. At times, he got so far ahead that she saw only patches of color from his clothes. Kuntolo hadn't followed; Sam and Temba were alone in the fields.
Temba burst into an open area, Sam following close behind. She halted quickly, nearly tripping in a thick tangle of plants. How had she missed the clearing? The maize crops towered on each side, but the opening formed a wide path, stretching from one side of the village to the other. Broken stalks lay in a green carpet across the ground. It was so dense that her feet didn't break through when she walked.
”What's this?” she asked.
”It's the secret runway,” he explained matter-of-fact.
”A runway?”
”Raoul uses it to bring special things to the village. He covers it like this so it is hidden from the sky.”
Her mind raced at the possibilities. Why hadn't Raoul mentioned this before?
”You could use it if your plane is fixed,” he went on. ”You could fly away from here. But you cannot tell anybody. It's a secret.”
She nodded in understanding, shocked that Temba might defy Raoul to show her this. ”Thank you, Temba.”
He nodded and smiled.
When they finally walked out of the maize fields, Brandon was sitting in the middle of the BaMbuti encampment. Two girls sat to either side of him, smiling and giggling. Sam felt a twinge of jealousy. The girls were mainly naked and they looked half his age.
As she walked over, Brandon stood up. She still felt the excitement of the chase throughout her body. She barely registered the pain in her shoulder. She would likely have a nasty bruise.
She explained what Temba had shown her. Brandon listened, curious and interested.
”Now if we can just find a way to get our plane fixed,” he said.
The encampment hushed around them as a man with gla.s.ses and a hook arm approached. Sam could tell by his clothing that he was not Bantu.
He spoke with a clear English accent: ”h.e.l.lo, Temba. Kuntolo.”
Temba returned the greeting.
”You must be Brandon and Sam,” the man guessed. ”My name is Alfred Tabibu.” Alfred extended his good hand to Brandon. ”I'm here with H. Hurley International on a research expedition.”
She asked, ”H. Hurley International?”
”It's a pharmaceutical company, based primarily out of London. I must say, it's interesting to find Americans in such a remote place.”
”We got here by accident.”
”So I've heard. We'd like to talk to you. Marcel told us you've seen the swamps near here. We have a lot of questions about that.”
Ike watched Nessa from a distance. She sat by herself at the Jeep as she often did, her legs dangling over the side. She bit into a chocolate bar-one that she and Alfred kept in reserve. Cadbury. Exposure to high temperatures had stuck the chocolate to the wrapping and she struggled to pull the messy pieces out.
She hadn't spoken to him since the night before. She ignored him, treating him as icily as she had always done, as if the previous night had never happened. Half of him thought he should never have gone in there; the other half insisted he should have gone all the way. She had liked it. He was positive of that. For those minutes, her icy exterior had melted away, as if he was looking at a warmer, softer Nessa.
He remembered the way her hips moved under his palm.
Ike felt a firm hand on his shoulder and turned to see Delani beside him. The South African looked like he had just swallowed a bad batch of palm wine.
”Stay focused,” Delani ordered. ”Don't forget who you work for.”
”It's funny you say that, mate,” Ike replied. ”What do you mean?”
”When this is done, she's going back to her husband. And we'll still be here in the jungle.”
”You didn't hear anything, did you?”
”I heard her last night. Just remember who you work for.”
”Know my role, is that right?”
”I don't trust her, not at all.”
H. Hurley International, as Alfred called them, made camp in a Bantu hut in the center of the village. Temba remained firmly next to Sam and Brandon, showing everyone whose side he was on.
”They call it Uya Kivali,” Alfred explained. ”The name means 'shadow flower.' It grows deep under the canopy in the darkest, wettest areas of the rain forest. I've been looking for this plant for three years. I thought I found it once, but I was wrong. Now I hope we'll find it in the swamps near here-the swamps your plane landed in.”
”What's so special about this flower?” Brandon asked, sipping tea from a cup.
”It has curative properties. I have reason to suspect that it contains a phytochemical which may prevent viral protease from-”
”It's complicated,” Nessa interrupted.
”Why don't you tell them what it looks like?” the Australian suggested. ”Maybe they've seen it.”
Nessa looked at the Australian, and Sam sensed the air thicken with tension. The two regarded each other with contempt.
Alfred described the flower: a species of orchid, ten overlapping petals, each of them white with a blue star. Sam didn't recognize it. For her, flowers were beautiful things, but she didn't trust herself to recall one in every detail.
”Actually, I have a picture of the one I found two years ago. It's not the same exact species, but I believe it's a close cousin.” Alfred pulled a glossy photograph out of his pocket and handed it to Brandon. Brandon glanced at it, and then handed it to Sam.
The vine-like flower matched Alfred's description except this one had solid white stars on its petals instead of tiny blue ones.
Sam shook her head and handed the photograph back to Alfred.
”You haven't seen it?” he asked.
Brandon shrugged. ”It's hard to say. We saw a lot of new things out there. We weren't exactly admiring the plant life.”
Alfred nodded, tapping his chin thoughtfully. ”Maybe as you were flying over, you noticed a particularly dense region; a thick area of canopy over a depression in the floor. Maybe somewhere the flower might grow.”
Sam remembered the rapidly pa.s.sing foliage as the plane dropped toward the black river. ”Actually . . .”