Part 29 (2/2)

The leopard stopped at the wall of brush, its hair standing on end, shoulders hunched. Not just one baboon, but three of the beasts encircled the leopard, closing the gap. The animals squared off, angry.

26.

If you want me to cooperate, you need to take me to see Alfred.”

Sam drank from a bowl of stew. It occurred to her that Guy might try to drug her, but she needed to eat and drink. When she finished the bowl, she placed it on the wooden floor in front of her. She didn't struggle as Bokenga tied her wrists.

Guy studied her with those same penetrating eyes. ”I gain nothing from doing you any favors, Samantha.”

”Please, I just want to talk to him so I know that he's okay,” she pleaded.

”I'm afraid that's impossible,” Guy insisted. ”If you want me to do you favors, you're going to have to show me you're willing to cooperate first.”

She considered that for a moment. ”Okay. I just have one little thing to ask then.”

”What's that?”

In her sweetest voice, she cajoled, ”Please, please, call me Sam.”

He smiled. ”My apologies, Sam.”

She almost couldn't believe her own tone. She had done it on purpose in a sudden s.h.i.+ft in tactics. Maybe she could sweeten him up into giving her what she wanted. It was hard to tell who was manipulating whom. She barely trusted herself to know the difference.

Still, she needed to get him to trust her. ”It's just that n.o.body calls me Samantha, except my mother did sometimes, usually when she was mad at me for something.”

”You're not in touch with your mother?”

She shook her head. ”We had a falling out.”

He leaned forward, interested. ”What was it about?”

”Well, a lot of things I guess. I think it really reached its peak when I decided to go into modeling.”

Guy paused, looking her over. She could tell from the look in his eyes that this new information surprised him. Good, she thought.

”Oh that's right,” she laughed sheepishly. ”I'm not a chemist. I don't work for Alfred's company. I'm not any kind of scientist at all.”

Guy's face darkened at the news and for a moment she feared her sharing would have the opposite effect from what she intended.

”But my sister studied psychology,” she added hopefully. ”She stopped after she got her Master's. She works as a school counselor now.”

Guy smiled condescendingly, his mood changing entirely. Sam got the impression her value had suddenly dropped in his eyes. The fact that he had believed she was a scientist told her a lot about his hopes and expectations. He had liked her, because he thought her pretty, smart, and independent. Now a model instead of a chemist, she was only pretty.

Guy let Sam follow him outside to the cl.u.s.ter of BaMbuti huts. There he spoke with several Mbuti men, many Sam recognized from before. She noticed them looking at her, particularly at her bruised face. Some showed guilt, but others gave nothing away. She wondered if Guy hadn't purposely set the Mbuti up as villains so he could play into a twisted good cop persona when he came to her rescue the night before. She didn't doubt it. Everything seemed like a game of manipulation now.

She kept talking. Before she had withheld everything, now she let it all out. The only subject she stayed away from was Brandon. It would make Guy happy, she decided, to think that she had forgotten him, even if her captor was decidedly less interested in her than before.

”You speak their language very well,” Sam noted after watching a brief exchange.

”It is not too different from the local Bantu tongues,” Guy pointed out. ”They have a very specific tonal quality to their accent that could throw off an amateur.”

”It sounds like they're singing.”

”Perhaps a little, yes.”

”Guy.”

He turned to face her again.

”Do you think I could see Alfred today?” she asked. She bit her lip shyly, letting him know that she was truly asking and not demanding. ”I really just want to know if he's okay. I feel so bad thinking about him without his gla.s.ses and his arm. I just want to see him once. And then I promise I'll shut up about it.”

”I should have known you weren't a scientist before,” Guy said as he unlocked the bolts on the door. Each lock made a metallic clunk as they came open. Sam noted the key he used, memorizing it.

”Why's that?” she asked, watching as he slipped the key ring into his trouser pocket.

He turned a smile at her and cupped her shoulder with one hand. ”The comments you made last night. They were a little . . .”

Not resisting his touch, Sam tilted her head curiously. ”A little what?”

”Naif.”

She didn't know how to respond to the small insult. She knew that her reaction was important if she was going to keep the upper hand with him. She finally decided on feigning mild annoyance. He'd expect that much at least.

”I don't mean to offend you, Sam. I would expect that sort of reaction from a layman, especially one as young as you.”

She had to bite her retort this time. She saw the way he studied her and wondered if his last statement hadn't been some sort of test. Guy had to be in his late thirties at the most. After a moment, she forced a smile. ”Twenty-six isn't that young.”

”There was a time when I would have agreed with you,” he replied, finally pulling the heavy door open. ”Actually, I'm surprised how young twenty-six seems to me right now.”

He stepped into the dark room, pulling Sam in right behind him. She couldn't see a thing until he flicked a light switch and a pair of light bulbs on the ceiling sparked to life. Behind them, Kitu followed. As Sam studied the room, Kitu did as well.

The walls were the same stone as outside with no insulation. Thick planks layered the floor. A shoddy wooden table sat in one corner topped with a control panel adorned with dials and gauges. Cords extended into the ceiling and toward the large generator that dominated the room. A few spare jugs of gasoline sat in the corner to her left. She didn't miss the significance. Guy needed to travel to refill his fuel supply, which meant that he had some way in and out of the jungle.

As Sam wondered about that, movement from the far corner caught her eye. A figure, draped in shadow, s.h.i.+fted and sat up slowly. He raised his good hand over his brow and squinted at them, a heavy chain dangling from his wrist. The chain connected him to the wall, limiting him to the small wooden chair he sat in.

”Alfred,” Sam called.

Practically blind without his gla.s.ses, Alfred almost jumped out of the chair at the sound of her voice. ”Sam!”

She turned to Guy. ”Can I go talk to him?”

He gave a quick nod.

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