Part 31 (2/2)
Guy and Ndola led Sam inside, trailing muddy footprints on the cold wooden floor.
”I have work to do in my study,” Guy explained. ”I will see you tomorrow.”
Sam nodded hesitantly. She took one look at the wooden planks and the thick beam that served as her bed and turned to face him.
”I'm so tired,” she whispered, ”but I can't sleep here again.”
Guy's eyes searched her face. Sam feared he doubted her until he smirked. ”You know the rules, Sam.”
She nodded, not hiding her reluctance. It was only natural and Guy would expect it. ”I just want to sleep in a soft bed. Please.”
He touched a hand to her shoulder, slippery from sweat and raindrops. ”Of course. That can be arranged. Come with me.”
Her captor stood near the doorway and pushed aside a curtain of leaves in one motion, beckoning her to enter. A long room stretched before her, complete with a bed, desk, cabinets, a bookshelf, chairs, and a table. Thick wooden planks served as a floor with wide gaps filled with shadow. A pair of lanterns blazed at either side of the room, giving off the scent of burning oil.
”What do you think, Sam?” Guy asked as he moved in beside her.
”It seems very . . . cozy.”
”It's small, I know. But it's private and peaceful. And it is conducive to my work.”
She moved further in, her bare feet stepping lightly on the splintering wood. She noticed a stack of notebooks beside the desk, marked in pencil. The books on the bookshelf were mostly in French and looked to be of a technical sort, but they ranged in a variety of topics like psychology, anthropology, medicine, zoology, and physics.
”I know the bed is small, but I promise there is room for two,” Guy told her as he stepped up behind her and placed a hand against the base of her neck. She pulled away from the touch before she had time to think.
He moved past her to the table. He pulled out a chair on one side and left it there before heading around the table and taking a seat opposite. ”Please, if you would have a seat.”
As she moved to accept the offered chair, her eyes could not help but scan the books on the bookcase. They looked very advanced, some old and some new. They reawakened a new curiosity in her. As she took her seat, Guy crossed to pull a bottle of champagne from its perch on a shelf.
”You can't know how long I've been saving this.” With that, he popped the cork off and watched the bottle froth with white foam. ”Wine, Sam?”
She licked her dry lips. She shouldn't drink when she was so thirsty and hungry, she knew. As she watched the white puffs slip down the curved bottle, she couldn't help herself. ”All right, maybe a little.”
”Excellent.” He poured a gla.s.s for each of them and slid one to her.
She took it and sipped it, immediately regretting her decision. It tasted so good she wanted to drink it fast.
As she drank, Guy slid his chair beside her. She became distinctly aware of his presence. He would not waste time, and she needed the rain to stop. That was Alfred's cue.
”Okay,” she said suddenly with a soft, playful smile. ”You have my curiosity.”
”I do?”
”Yes. You mentioned my cell phone. I-I don't understand what that means.”
”You haven't figured it out yet? The answers have been right here in front of you the entire time.”
She paused, trying to remember everything she had seen. It did not help that as she tried to think he casually placed his hand beside hers and brushed her wrist lightly with his finger. Her first instinct was to pull away, but she resisted, focusing on the question at hand.
Her mind raced through every possible thing she had witnessed that might have something to do with cell phones: fast communication, making the world smaller. Everybody had one of the d.a.m.n things in their pocket, on them, talking, texting all the time. But what did that have to do with anything? Out here in the Congo there wasn't a cell phone tower for . . .
”Power lines,” she said suddenly.
”Hm?”
”It's the buzzing sound.” She felt suddenly light headed.
”Ahh yes, the buzzing.”
”I've heard that before.”
”Where have you heard it?”
”By the power lines.”
”Power lines out here?” Guy asked, leading her on as his hand slid over hers.
”No. Power lines back home. The noise is the same here.”
”Yes, it is. What are you hearing, Sam?”
She remembered the radar dish pointed toward Chui's den, the power station with the lines extending into the jungle. ”I'm hearing radio waves.”
”Precisely.”
Water soaked everything, seeping into Brandon's clothes, so that even in the consistently warm tropical weather, he felt a chill. He lay in the mud without a tent or a fire, surrounded by black jungle. This rain was unlike the previous rains he had experienced in the Ituri. While frequent, the rains from before lasted only a while; this one had already lasted long enough that the raindrops broke through the canopy in torrents. The muddy ground moved in rivers around him.
Delani insisted on keeping to the ground and staying absolutely quiet. They would wait at the appointed spot until Ike returned from scouting and do absolutely nothing except watch for the militia soldiers in the meantime.
Brandon stared into the darkness looking for signs of approaching men. The raindrops played tricks with his mind, long spears became twisting serpents. As the leaves above bowed under the weight of water they dropped buckets to the ground, sounding more like footsteps.
The forest was getting to him. He stopped trusting his own eyes and ears and ignored the dread growing in his heart.
”Traitor!”
Raoul was thrown to the mud, where he rolled to a stop and cowered with his hands over his head. Gilles emerged from the jungle behind him. Raoul had gone behind a row of bushes to relieve himself and Gilles followed after him. The Congolese mercenary towered over the Frenchman, drawing Ike's large pistol from his belt.
”What's going on?” Delani demanded, rising to his feet.
Gilles pointed the gun at Raoul. ”I saw him in the forest,” Gilles cried. ”He was talking to one of them.”
”What? Who?”
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