The Crocodile's Last Embrace Page 19

  —The Traveler

  THE OX-5 MOTOR’S SONG reminded Jade of Biscuit’s throaty purr, surrounding her as did the blue sky and the plane’s Irish linen. Avery sat in the rear of Sam’s Curtiss JN-4, manning the controls, while Jade took over the front of the plane and scouted for anything out of the ordinary on the ground. Avery had offered to let Jade fly, but she’d declined. It was uncomfortable enough being in Sam’s beloved Jenny without him. Flying it would have felt dead wrong.

  Neville had gone home Sunday to wait for Finch’s man and to guard against further attacks on his farm. He’d left Cyril and Madeline at the Dunburys’ estate under the Dunburys’, Biscuit’s, and Farhani’s watchful eyes. Jade and Avery took Maddy home later Monday morning to help Neville continue searching the grounds for any sign of an intruder. Beverly had promised to do something nearly unheard of during the day: she’d shut and bolt the doors, admitting no one until Avery returned.

  Madeline had been torn between duty to husband and to son, but Beverly had finally convinced her that Cyril would be safe, allowing Madeline to search with Neville. Jade had never seen such a look of determined and controlled fury on Maddy’s face. She could still hear Maddy’s voice saying, “I want to be the one to find that bastard so that I can shoot him first!”

  Avery banked the Jenny and broadened the search circle, moving outward in an ever-increasing spiral. Below them on the Thompsons’ farm spread burned grassland, a patchwork of black blotches amid wetter wallows where fresher grass had resisted the blaze. She spotted trampled areas where the men had stood and fought the fire. She pointed down and Avery dropped lower and crisscrossed over the burn. Jade looked carefully for any telltale tracks at the point of origin. She spied some and pointed again.

  Avery followed a set of tire tracks as they cut a wide path around the farm nearer to the house. The vehicle had never been any closer than a quarter mile. If they hoped to find where the person had come from or escaped to, they were disappointed. One set of tracks eventually doubled back on the other and all tracks were lost at the road. The vehicle could have come and gone from anywhere.

  Below, Maddy and Neville continued their own ground search for anything dropped by the would-be kidnapper. Jade saw them look up and wave. Avery waggled the wings in reply and turned away. With little more to be gained here, they’d continue to fly around the area and especially Ol Donyo Sabuk, hoping to spy a camp or an unknown vehicle. As they headed southeast, Jade kept her eyes on the landscape, but her mind played with the morning’s first visit to the land office.

  The spectacled clerk, a Mr. Lippincott, had insisted that no mining claims had been filed for anyplace in the colony in the past year.

  “But that’s not a surprise,” he’d said. “It’s common knowledge that the colony is sadly lacking in valuable minerals. Why should anyone even attempt mining? Getting Tanganyika Territory from the Germans might prove useful. Shame we couldn’t win the Belgian Congo, right? That Leopold, he sure fell into a rich pot. Copper by the score. Gold too, but some of that is in pretty rough country. But they have a new governor-general running things now, don’t they?”

  “Yes, but it took long enough,” said Avery. “Leopold died in 1909, but the scoundrels in the Congo continued running things for years and the war only aggravated the problems.”

  “What do you know about the mining under Emperor Leopold?” asked Jade.

  “Terrible tales,” Lippincott said. “Butchery and brutality. Open season on Africans, it was.”

  “Did you ever hear of anyone named Worthy or Pellyn committing these crimes?”

  “Those are English and Cornish names,” said Lippincott. “Can’t say I recognize them, but I did hear of an Englishman involved in one mine. Put a brand on his workers in case they tried to run away. Oddest part of that story was that once, a white woman came into camp and sliced the ears off some men.”

  “When did you hear these tales?” asked Avery. “Were they reliable?”

  “During and just after the war. And reliable enough. Settlers and traders proving up land would swap tales in the office. I heard that one twice after the war.”

  Now Jade pondered those facts. The Congo was reported to hold gold, especially in the Katanga province. That obnoxious parrot was a species from the Congo. It stood to reason that Waters had been prospecting in the Congo, legally or illegally. The question remained: had he been prospecting in Kenya Colony as well or had he brought gold back and used it to lure gullible settlers into investing in a fake mine?

  Salting the mine. Salt!

  If that parrot was trying to say “Pellyn” rather than “pile in,” then either Waters was actually Pellyn or had worked with him long enough for the bird to have learned the name. Jade didn’t think Waters was Pellyn. For one, he wasn’t Cornish. He was a Cockney. True, the drugged South African red tea had been given to her before Waters died, but Cyril’s abduction pointed to someone still active in the area. Perhaps Waters had run afoul of Pellyn and tried to cheat him. That would explain his death, but why would Pellyn try to take Cyril?

  The drugs were meant to either drive me insane or chase me away, possibly so I could be captured away from my friends. If they all thought I was fleeing, it would be months before anyone knew what had become of me and by then I’d be dead.

  And it might have worked if Harry hadn’t been taken ill, exposing the scheme. Now she was still here and she’d have to play a part, testifying in any inquests or trials concerning the recent deaths. Is someone now threatening me through my friends? Is their safety the price of my silence? Or does Pellyn hope that my friends will drive me out? She thought of Mary’s plea to help her uncle. Jade had grudgingly agreed, but Holly’s suspicious behavior suggested he was involved as more than a victim. Was he told to lure me to Harry’s farmhouse?

  Whatever Pellyn had in mind, he was in for a surprise. Jade didn’t run away from a fight. She’d find him and deal with him.

  Jade pushed her speculations to the back of her mind and concentrated on studying the landscape. She loved seeing Africa from the air; the distant zebra herds looked like living shadows as they milled and grazed, and she wished she could give herself over to the view. They next followed the Athi downriver from the falls. A tent and a boxy car attracted Jade’s notice and she pointed them out to Avery. He passed over them at fifty feet and Jade recognized Blaney Percival’s truck. This was where he was camping as he continued to look for the elusive mottled crocodile. They flew over Jelani’s village before turning back west for Ol Donyo Sabuk. Several women hunkered over the river, washing broad swaths of cloth. Others stood nearby, throwing rocks and beating the water with sticks to drive off any lurking crocodiles.

  She couldn’t hear them over the airplane’s motor, but she knew they were chanting and singing loudly. Jade prayed their ruse would work, but somehow she doubted it would fool any crocs for long. She’d heard reports of the reptiles savaging migrating herds of wildebeest as they crossed rivers. If all those slashing hooves didn’t deter them, a few poles wouldn’t either. The Kikuyu’s best defense lay in the game warden killing this croc and patrolling the upper reaches of the Athi to keep more away.

  They next flew around the mountain, clockwise from the south. Jade leaned over the lowered right side of the plane. She didn’t see Harry’s truck or another tent. She wondered if he’d given up looking for the crocodile or if Percival had sent him even farther downriver.

  After they circled the mountain once and succeeded in startling one buffalo and two giraffes, Avery turned the plane and reversed the route, heading counterclockwise. Jade had suggested it earlier, hoping that something hidden from view in one direction might be visible from the other. But with so much of Roger’s and Harry’s land returning to wild growth, it was difficult to spot anything amid the tangle of vegetation. Jade did see old tire tracks here and there, but they might have been made by Harry. Avery had made inquiries and found that McMillan’s farm hadn’t had visitors for months.


  Jade wasn’t sure what she’d expected to see. She’d hoped to find someone encamped in the grasslands with a clear trail leading to and from the Thompsons’ farm, unrealistic as it had seemed. Avery reached forward and tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned in her seat, he pointed down to his fuel gauge, then back to the Thompsons’. She nodded. They needed to return. Fuel was still difficult to come by and they’d used enough already.

  Once they’d landed and tended to the plane, they rejoined Madeline and Neville. Neither of them had anything to report.

  “You’d think he’d have dropped a button or something,” said Maddy.

  “We’ve questioned every one of the Kikuyu and no one remembers seeing anyone near the house,” said Neville.

  “But then they wouldn’t, would they,” said Avery. “That was the intent of the fire.”

  “I don’t suppose you found anything from above?” asked Neville.

  Jade shook her head. “Tracks, but we lost them at the road. Still, not seeing any camps tells us that this person most likely came from one of the towns.”

  “Do you think it’s safe for us to bring Cyril back home?” asked Maddy. Jade heard the longing in her voice.

  Neville patted his rifle. “We won’t let the little chap out of our sight, Maddy,” he said. “Anyone who tries anything won’t live to try it again. I’ll go get him now.”

  “Jade and I will locate Steven Holly at the Blue Posts,” said Avery. “He may know something.”

  “Very well,” said Neville. He shook Avery’s hand. “Thank you. I can’t imagine a better friend and ally at present.” Then, as though he felt embarrassed by this exuberant display of masculine emotion, he coughed and added, “Not excepting you, of course, Jade.”

  “Will you stay and take lunch before you go?” asked Maddy.

  “Thank you, but no,” said Avery. He flexed his hands in a manner that bespoke an itching to connect a fist to a jaw.

  Jade thought he’d need to get in line after her.

  THE BLUE POSTS HOTEL was mainly a large round hut surrounded by a veranda upheld by blue posts, surrounded by several whitewashed sleeping huts and stables. When the hotel first opened in 1908, it boasted only four huts. Now there were more, testimony to the popular Chania Falls, which thundered nearby. But the same nearly deaf manager stood behind a wooden desk. He was known to all as Major Breeches ever since he misunderstood a question as to who made his breeches. Avery did his best to inquire after Holly, but the fall’s din, only partially subdued after the end of the rains, did nothing to help the man’s hearing.

  “Mr. Steven Holly,” shouted Avery for the third time.

  Jade took a more direct approach and pulled the guest registry towards her. She looked in vain for the name Holly but found the name Smith. She showed this to Avery.

  “If he was really afraid someone might find him, he wouldn’t use his real name,” she said.

  Avery pointed to the signature and shouted “Smith” at Major Breeches.

  The manager beamed and nodded, his bald pate shining. “Very good, Mr. Smith,” he said.

  “We want to see him,” yelled Avery. He pointed to himself and then to the book.

  “Are you newly married?” asked the manager. “How very nice.”

  Avery shook his head. “No.”

  Major Breeches’ smile evaporated as he looked from Jade to Avery and his mustache drooped as though it had wilted. “I run a respectable hotel, sir. If you’re not married, I don’t think you should stay here.”

  Avery sighed. “Any ideas, Jade?”

  Jade looked about for paper to write a note and, seeing none, started to write in the registry. The manager immediately snatched it out of her hands. At that point, Jade pantomimed writing and was promptly rewarded with a sheet of paper. She wrote very carefully, We wish to speak to Mr. Smith, and handed the message to Major Breeches.

  “He’s not here. He checked out this morning. Took the omnibus.”

  “Blast and damn,” muttered Avery.

  “Did he have any visitors?” asked Jade.

  Major Breeches smiled. “Always nice to have visitors here. So many people come to see the falls.”

  “Now what?” Jade asked Avery when they left. “We can’t visit every hotel in the colony.”

  Avery shook his head. “We’ve run into a dead end, it seems. I for one want to get back home and make certain that Beverly and Alice are all right.”

  They drove back to Parklands in silence. Jade felt she’d learned nothing the entire day, and her frustration had reduced her to introspective brooding.

  Beverly must have been watching for them from a window, for she met them at the door and hurried them into the front parlor. She explained that Emily was out purchasing a ticket. “She was quite upset that we didn’t include her in the search or confide in her. She plans to take the down train to Mombassa tomorrow and stay for a few days. I believe she’s over Mr. Holly, at least. What did you two discover today? Why did you let Neville take Cyril so soon?”

  Her inquiries were quietly answered by Avery. Jade, tired, waited for an opening so that she could politely excuse herself and go back to her own rooms.

  Farhani came to the sitting room door and coughed to announce himself.

  “What is it, Farhani?” asked Beverly. “Is Matthew mpishi having difficulty with my new recipe?”

  “No, memsahib,” said Farhani. He stood ramrod straight, his white robe falling in stiff folds. One arm was behind his back. He brought it forward now, his white-gloved hand holding a silver tray. “A boy has delivered this message for the bwana. I have already paid him a rupee and sent him on his way.”

  Avery took the paper from the tray and thanked their majordomo. Farhani bowed, his white turban nearly brushing Avery’s shoulder.

  “What is it, Avery, darling?” asked Beverly.

  “It’s a telegram,” he replied.

  “Sam!” said Beverly. She smiled broadly. “I knew we’d hear from him soon.”

  “It’s not from Sam,” said Avery as he read the return address. “In point of fact, it’s from my brother.”

  “Marcus? Whatever could be so urgent?” Beverly’s eyes opened wider. “Oh, I hope he and his family aren’t on their way to stay with us. I’m not sure where I can fit any more relations.”

  Jade felt her neck hairs tingle. Avery could have had any number of estate-related telegrams, but for some reason, she knew this was different. She watched Avery’s normally placid face tense as he clenched his teeth. “Avery?”

  “For mercy’s sake, Avery, don’t keep us in suspense. What does it say?” asked Beverly, her hands knotting around her skirt.

  “Quite simply, ‘The bird has flown.’ ” He crumbled the paper in his fist and sank into a chair. “It means that Lilith has escaped.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Some tribes say, “A thirsty frog does not let the crocodile’s

  threatening eyes keep it from drinking.” The message is, “Do not be

  intimidated from doing what you must,” but frogs don’t make much

  of a meal and have less to worry about to begin with.

  —The Traveler

  “ESCAPED!” shouted Beverly. She jumped to her feet. “Lilith?”

  Jade said nothing. She fought down the panic, her heart pounding as the force of this news hit home. When she closed her eyes, Jade saw Lilith rise up like a specter, an icy woman in black silk, a mockery of a grieving widow. Mamba jike! The female crocodile.

  Avery smoothed out the telegram and studied it as if some hidden message would rise out of the paper. “I’ll read it.” He cleared his throat. “‘In London. Found old telegram at house. Date December twenty-six. The bird has flown. Marcus.’ ” Avery folded the paper and set it on the side table. “That was the code phrase I told my acquaintance at the prison to use if Lilith escaped.”

  “Then she escaped over the Christmas holidays two months ago,” said Beverly. “I understand the telegram going to the Lond
on house, but why wasn’t the message sent on?”

  Avery put his head down and ran one hand across the back of his neck. When he looked up, he seemed older and haggard. Jade had never seen him this way. Avery was always the epitome of British pluck and dash. “I fear this is all my fault,” he said. “When I originally arranged for these messages, we were in London awaiting Alice’s birth. When we left early for Nairobi, it was rather sudden and”—he looked at his wife—“I confess I had more important concerns on my mind at the time. I neglected to leave notice with the prison warden.” He stood up and paced around his chair. “But I never really expected Lilith to escape. To attempt it, perhaps, but—” He broke off and dropped back into his chair.

  Beverly hurried to his side, kneeling beside him, her hands on his. “It’s not your fault, darling,” she said. “I don’t understand why the message was not sent on to us from the house.”

  Avery patted her hands. “The London house was shut up. The only person there was Mrs. Delvin, and that’s only because the dear old soul has been with the family for so long that we let her live there in retirement. She probably hasn’t employed anyone other than a part-time cook. Marcus must have had business in London and decided to stay at the house rather than the club.”

  “Does he know what this means?” asked Beverly.

  “ ‘The bird has flown’? No. Probably thought it had to do with an aeroplane.”

  Jade listened to their conversation as if she were eavesdropping from another room. At least, that was how she felt—unconnected. It seemed as if neither of them fully grasped the magnitude of the situation, like someone who smells smoke but doesn’t realize that the room they’re sitting in is on fire.

  “You have to leave,” Jade said, “and take the baby with you.”

  Her voice broke through, but her message did not. “What?” asked Beverly. “The baby’s asleep. Why would I wake her?”

  “Bev, Avery, listen to me. You have to leave and take the baby with you. Hide. Get Maddy and Cyril to go with you.”