The Crocodile's Last Embrace (37 page)

Jade tried it, but the odor was too strong. She sat up instead, her back against the palisade and her legs drawn up. That was, until another nanny scrambled onto her lap,
maa
ing softly. But something other than goats kept her awake: concern for Jelani. Why was Finch keeping him? If they hadn’t already found Pellyn, she’d have suspected him more than ever.

She pulled her legs back up and wrapped her arms around her knees. Sleep finally overtook her, and she dreamed of Boguli, the old gray man from Mount Marsabit, the brother to the elephants. The soul of an elephant, if she believed the evidence of her last photograph on Marsabit.

In Jade’s dream he stood before her next to Jelani’s mother. The old woman kept saying, “
Mamba
,” and both of them pointed to Ol Donyo Sabuk. Just as Jade was about to turn in her dream and see what they wanted to show her, a pair of sharp little hooves dug into her thigh and she woke.

Jade could have sworn, as she shoved the persistent goat away, that she heard an elephant trumpet, but this time it sounded frustrated, as though a message had been interrupted.

 

HARRY HAD BEEN UNABLE TO FIND any sign of the crocodile, and had gone back into town Thursday, opting to spend his evening at the Norfolk hotel bar before going back to his own room and falling asleep. He woke on his bunk, fully dressed, his mouth tasting sour and his head throbbing. He splashed cold water on his face and decided some breakfast at the New Stanley hotel was in order.

That was where he ran into Neville Thompson.

“Hascombe,” called Neville. “Thank heaven. I need you to join us.”

Harry took one look at Neville’s face and gave up any hope of having a decent breakfast. “Cripes, man. What happened? Don’t tell me that bloody croc has struck again.”

“Worse,” said Neville. “Jade’s missing. She was flying yesterday and—”

Harry grabbed Neville’s shirtfront in both hands and yanked him closer. “What happened to Jade?”

“She didn’t come back. Inspector Finch is calling up Dr. Mathews and I’m rounding up a search party.”

Harry stifled a ripe swear. Somehow he couldn’t imagine Jade being in any serious trouble. But Thompson was a level-headed man and he was clearly agitated. “Likely she ran out of fuel and had to put down somewhere. Do you have any idea where she was headed?”

“She was flying back to my farm from Kinangop,” said Neville. “Is Blaney Percival about?”

Harry shook his head, but stopped when it only made his headache worse. “No. Still on Mount Kenya taking care of that elephant problem. I’ll grab some coffee and get my gun and truck. We’ll find the little minx, Thompson.”

By the time Harry returned in his vehicle, Neville had netted nine other men, including Finch, Mathews, and two reporters anxious for a scoop. The eleven men drove off to Kinangop, where they regrouped around Thompson.

“Miss del Cameron took off from here,” said Neville. “That was yesterday afternoon and she should have arrived back at the hangar within half an hour. I noticed she was still gone when I returned home last night, but by then it was too dark to do a proper search.”

“Mr. Thompson,” said the reporter with the big sunshades and wide straw boater, “I represent the
Leader
. What was Miss del Cameron doing out here, and how do you know that this is where she’d been?” The man asked deferentially, but his counterpart from the
Standard
licked the tip of his pencil, waiting to write every word of what promised to be a good story.

Neville pointed to the flattened grasses. “You can see the marks of the aeroplane’s wheels and the tail skid. That proves she took off from here.”

“Right,” said Finch, elbowing his way past the reporters. “And I happen to know that she was making some deliveries to Naivasha.”

“I saw the plane yesterday,” said the reporter from the
Standard.
“It looked to have someone sitting in the front seats. Is that correct, Mr. Thompson?”

“None of that matters,” snapped Finch. “We’re here to find Miss del Cameron, not to write stories. Thompson, you say she’d have headed straight back to your farm? No chance that she’d have diverted course?”

“None, Inspector,” said Neville. “As I understood it, she had adequate petrol for the trips she made and to return, but not much extra. She’d have to have landed and refueled. I checked the petrol drum this morning. It was at the same level as yesterday when I helped her fuel the plane.”

“Very well,” said Finch. “I want each of you to fan out your vehicles into a wide line and hold in that position unless you come to a ravine or something that you need to go around. Once you’re around, resume your proper place in the line. We want to cover as much ground as possible in one pass.” He pointed to Neville and Harry. “I want you two to take the ends of the line. You’re the most experienced in the bush. You can keep an eye on the others, keep them from straying. No one should be more than twenty yards from the man next in line.”

“Where do you want me, Inspector?” asked Dr. Mathews.

“You and I will take center point positions. And you reporters,” Finch barked. “You’re not here for a story. I expect you to assist in this search or I’ll throw you into prison for interfering with a rescue. We’re here to find this woman and, if possible, rescue her.”

Harry took his position on the north end of the line, clenching his jaw to bite back his distress. What optimism he’d first felt quickly fled like antelope in the presence of a lion pride. Jade was many things—foolhardy, brave, reckless—but she was also trustworthy. She’d never have taken Featherstone’s plane nor left her friends without a damned good reason.

Twenty minutes into the search, two cars had stalled out when their oil pans hit rocks. The line of vehicles collapsed to take up the slack. Harry checked every ravine before he drove around it, but so far all anyone had managed was to flush out several bush pigs and to panic a mongoose.

Then he spied a patch of yellow.

“I see something ahead,” Harry shouted, the words nearly choking him.

News of his discovery passed down the line and every man converged on the distant point where a bit of yellow stuck up above the grass like a guidon. Harry’s heart raced as he watched for any movement, any sign of life. He saw none.

“It’s a wing,” exclaimed the reporter from the
Standard
. He removed a large camera and a tripod from his Buick’s rear seat and began setting up a shot.

Harry fought the urge to smash the camera.

“There’s the propeller,” said Dr. Mathews. “That crumpled mess must be the wings, but I don’t see Miss del Cameron’s body anywhere in this debris.”

“There!” exclaimed Harry. He pointed north towards a patch of white and another bit of yellow. “Could that be a parachute? Thompson, did Jade have a parachute?”

Neville nodded. “She wore something bulky strapped around her when she left the farm. It hung rather low, as though she might sit on it. I thought it might be a cushion to elevate her for better visibility so I asked her about it. She said that Featherstone had left a parachute behind so she decided to keep it handy . . . in case.”

“In case,” repeated Harry. His jaws worked again, clenching and unclenching. “I thought she knew how to fly Featherstone’s damned machine. What was she doing up in it to begin with?”

Harry moved in closer to Thompson. Dr. Mathews joined them and Neville lowered his voice. “She was taking my wife and child to safety, along with Lady Dunbury and her baby.”

“To safety? From what, for the love of Pete?” roared Harry.

“Keep your voice down, Hascombe,” cautioned Neville. “From an old enemy.”

“An enemy!” Harry’s voice rang out. He looked from Thompson to Mathews, waiting for someone to explain. He saw the two reporters pull out their notebooks.

“Tell us about this enemy,” said the
Leader
reporter.

“Just what or who was she taking to safety?” asked the hatless and sunburned
Standard
reporter with the camera.

“Someone tried to kidnap my son,” said Neville. “We feared another attempt.”

Harry wanted to ask where Jade had taken the children, but the reporters had closed in like jackals on a carcass, Mathews following close behind.

Finch called over from the wreckage, “You should have a look at this.”

Harry and the others trotted over to where he stood by the rudder. Finch poked at the parachute silk with his foot, nudging it gently aside.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat.

 

“IT’S TRUE!” whispered Jade. “It’s as if that elephant had kept me away until Bev and the girls arrived. “Father Jacquinet thinks he’s a guardian angel.”

They walked the rest of the way in to Harry’s ranch, Sam pushing the cycle. They kept their conversation low as Jade related her account of seeing Boguli and the old elephant.

Sam snorted in disbelief. “Well, if he’s protecting you, he’d better let us know whether or not Lilith is holed up in Harry’s house before she shoots us.”

There was no sign of activity in or around the building except for a few rodents that skittered away. If Harry or anyone had been back here recently, Jade saw no fresh evidence.

Sam drifted around the rooms, his lean, muscular body shifting like a slow-stalking wolf. He checked every shelf and every cupboard and peered into the side rooms, examining the floors for dust and footprints. “If she was here,” he said after two hours of intense searching, “she hasn’t been in here since you found Holly. And neither has Harry, by the looks of it.”

“Even my footprints are partially obscured by dust,” said Jade. “This can’t have been her headquarters.”

“Wasn’t there a second farm near here?” Sam asked.

“There’s Roger Forster’s place around to the east. If the tales are true, it burned just after a woman bought it. I always suspected it was Lilith’s doing to remove evidence incriminating her in her husband’s death. But I’ve already been there. There’s nothing but one storage shed and it’s got a tree growing right up against the door.”

Sam’s boot toe nudged aside a pile of rags, revealing several small wriggling pink and hairless bodies. He quickly pushed the rags back into place over the little mice and slipped past Jade to the door. “The only rats in here are the honest ones. Probably scared the mother away when we came in. Let’s go on to Forster’s. I want to see it.”

 

HARRY STARED AT THE MEAGER REMAINS, struggling to maintain control.

“Is she dead?” asked one of the searchers, hanging back.

“Very likely, yes,” said Finch. “There are no actual human remains, but judging by the shredded clothing, it would appear that our young lady did not survive her jump or, if she did, she was seriously injured and couldn’t move. Wild animals found her and . . . well, you can imagine the rest.”

“It appears that the parachute lines snagged on the rear of the plane,” said Neville.

“Are you
absolutely
certain?” asked the
Leader
reporter. “I mean, isn’t it more likely that she left that rigging behind and walked off? Perhaps she’s waiting for us somewhere? Surely we can track her.” Several of the other men murmured agreement.

Harry tried not to listen to them. They reminded him of ghouls, voraciously discussing the events. Instead he inspected a loose cable.

“I know you think tracking is easy,” said Finch, “but the plain fact is, we haven’t had rain for two weeks now and the ground is hard. We’re not likely to find any footprints, especially,” he added, “since we do have one of her boots here.”

Harry lunged forward, following the inspector’s line of sight, and stumbled. There, below his feet, was a solitary boot, or what remained of one. Little was left of the leather beyond the heel, sole, and a few inches of the legging. A few feet away lay a knife.

“Here’s her knife,” exclaimed Neville. “She always carried one in her boot.”

“Predators and scavengers leave very little behind,” said Finch. Harry watched him put a hand on Thompson’s shoulder. “I’m very sorry,” said Finch. “She was a fine woman.”

“Wait a minute!” growled Harry. “Jade carried a knife with a bone hilt. This one is different. And where’s her rifle? She never went anywhere without that Winchester.”

Neville cleared his throat. “The Winchester wouldn’t fit in the cockpit. As to the knife? I don’t know why she changed blades, but I did see her use
that
one to scrape discharge off a piston yesterday.”

“This was no accident,” said Harry. “I found a broken cable that worked the tail. It looked to have been filed thin.” He showed Finch. “You can see a shininess where a file or something worried it down.”

“So you think someone tried to kill her?” asked Finch as he examined the cable. “Don’t pilots check their aeroplanes, Thompson? Would something like this show up?”

“I don’t know if she did a full preflight,” said Neville. “I know she worked on the plane earlier in the week. Maybe someone did this when we had the fire at my farm.”

Most of the men milled around the pitiful remains, hands in their trouser pockets, eyes downcast. The reporter for the
Leader
accosted Dr. Mathews for a few minutes, as though he expected the doctor to provide some explanation or evidence. Mathews said little, only nodding or shaking his head at times. The thought of Jade’s death being turned into a story angered Harry and he roused them all into action again.

“Spread out and gather what we can for a burial. It’s little enough, but we can do her that much honor.” The men fanned out on foot, stooping to retrieve a scrap of fabric, a button, a pair of goggles. Harry watched for a moment but he didn’t join them. He grabbed Neville’s arm and pulled him farther aside.

“Now what the devil was Jade doing?” Harry demanded. “Who was she running from? And what’s this about a fire?”