A Touch of Betrayal (33 page)

“Ol-oibor siadi.”

The voice behind Grant startled him. A dark hand gripped his shoulder as he jumped and swung around.

“Kakombe? Oh . . . it’s you.”

“E-miureishoyu,”
Kakombe said, reassuring his friend that there was no need to be afraid.

“How did you find me here?” Grant asked in the Maasai tongue. Once the two groups of climbers had made it on foot down to Oloitokitok, they had driven to the meeting place designated for the airplane sent from Amboseli. The pilot had known of a stretch of deserted roadway flat enough to accommodate a landing and takeoff.

“In the
kraal
, we learn of many things.” Kakombe stood at Grant’s side to watch the Land Rovers pulling away from the landing area. “She of the long legs was injured?”

Grant nodded. Wrestling with his memories, he pictured the moment when Jones had pulled the trigger. From that instant—through countless hours as the climbers labored to bring the victims to safety—until this moment, Grant had not allowed himself time to think or even to feel. Now his anger flooded in.

“Her enemy shot her,” he ground out. “The man who attacked my camp many days ago.”

Kakombe leaned on his spear. “And how was this enemy killed?”

“He wasn’t killed. He escaped.”

Kakombe let out a whistle of disbelief. “Then we must find him, my friend. We must put him to death.”

Grant rubbed the back of his neck. There was nothing he’d like better than to see Jones get his just deserts. But his focus was not revenge.

“I have to go to Oloitokitok again and speak to my sister on the telephone,” he said. “I want to make sure Alexandra is safely in the hospital. Then I must drive to Nairobi. She needs me.”

“This is good. I believe you have given Alinkanda the silver chain. She will be your wife.”

Grant shoved his hand down into his pocket and touched the chain. “I don’t know what will happen about these future matters, Kakombe. I know only one thing. I promised to protect Alexandra, and I failed her. I have to go and be with her now.”

The Maasai warrior regarded the plumes of red dust rising from the road as the Land Rovers threaded their way toward the main highway. “Night comes soon,” he said. “That wicked man will try to make his escape from the forests of Kilimanjaro soon. Will you permit your enemy to flee?”

“My first responsibility is to Alexandra.”

“Yes, you wear her blood on your hands and your shirt. Your love for her is great. It is for this reason you must destroy her enemy. Only then will you truly protect her. Only then will she welcome you to the doorpost of her hut.”

Grant let out a hot breath. How could he tell his friend what had happened to him as he climbed to the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro? How could he explain the treasure he had found there? Unexpected peace in the face of turmoil now filled his heart—and it lessened his need for vengeance. Sure, he was angry. Enraged. But his focus was on Alexandra. On a new life and a new path.

“Here is a good plan,” Kakombe said. “Go to your camp and fetch the things you need for your journey. I will return to the
kraal
and summon the warriors. We will all drive up to Oloitokitok. There—at the edge of the forest—we will begin our search for the enemy of your woman. We will track him like a rogue bull elephant. And we will find him.”

“Kakombe, I must drive to Nairobi tonight.”

The Maasai frowned. “This evil man cannot be allowed to go free. Like a mad elephant who attacks a
kraal
, he has touched many lives with his wicked actions. Do you not know that this man shamed all Maasai people when he tied the great warrior Loomali to the tree in your camp? You are our friend, the adopted son of our tribe. Do you not know that your enemy attacked
us
when he attacked your mother? Do you not know that he wounded
us
when he injured your beloved woman, Alinkanda? Yes, we warriors have discussed this dangerous man. We have decided he must taste the bitter medicine of justice.”

Grant understood enough about the Maasai way of thinking to know Kakombe spoke in deadly earnest. But he had to think of Alexandra. Had to get to her as soon as he could.

“Will you permit that enemy to track down your woman once again?” Kakombe asked. “Will you permit him to kill Alinkanda?”

“I will never allow that. But, Kakombe . . .” Grant paused, searching for the words to explain himself to his friend. “Today, on Mount Kilimanjaro, I met God—the one, true God. I heard his voice, and I asked his Son, Jesus Christ, to enter my heart and direct the path of my feet. So, how can I take the death of another man into my own hands? Justice must be brought by God.”

A broad grin spread across Kakombe’s face. “Oh, my friend! This is the way my father has also chosen—a worthy path indeed. But now you must go to your camp. I will return to the
kraal
and summon the warriors. We will meet soon and drive to Oloitokitok. Perhaps there the justice of God himself will rain down upon the wickedness of our enemy.”

Grant lifted a hand in farewell as his friend loped away. Filled with a sense of mission, the young warrior would not rest until the honor of Loomali had been restored and the attack on “Alinkanda” had been avenged. As much as Grant loved the Maasai, he knew he would never fully understand their ways. Nor they his.

All the same, one God had created them both. One God loved them both.

“God,” Grant said aloud, “please keep her alive. Don’t let Alexandra die!”

A small brown face materialized above Alexandra. Sharp brown eyes sparkled amid a wreath of wrinkles. A bright scarf in a pattern of lemon yellow and blue provided a jaunty contrast to the scar that ran along one cheekbone.

“They have not permitted me to return the blood you gave me,” the old woman said solemnly.

“Mama Hannah?” A warm tingle ran down Alexandra’s spine. “Is it you?”

“Do you know another who looks as I do?”

Alexandra tried to smile. “No, it’s just . . . where am I?”

“In the Nairobi hospital.” Tillie McLeod’s face appeared beside that of Mama Hannah. “You’ve just come out of the recovery room. You arrived here earlier this evening. They had you in surgery for a while, trying to stabilize you. How are you feeling?”

“I can breathe better.”

“They reinflated your lung. By the time you got here on the plane, the whole thing had collapsed.”

Alexandra shut her eyes, remembering the pain and panic of suffocation. “Where’s Grant?”

“He’s at his camp. I’ll talk to him when I get back to the apartment. He said he’d call me later.”

Alexandra tried to process the information. Grant wasn’t with her. He hadn’t come. Why not? She loved him. She wanted him beside her. But maybe he didn’t feel the same way.

“Is he coming here?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. There really wouldn’t be much point.” Tillie glanced at Mama Hannah. “Alexandra, the surgeon who stabilized you wants to evacuate you to the States immediately. He’s working right now on setting you up with a pulmonary specialist in Dallas.”

“Dallas? But I’m . . . I live in New York.”

“Alexandra, the bullet caused a lot of damage. You’re going to need more surgery and the best care available. We just can’t provide that in Nairobi. But you’re going to be okay. Really.”

“Jones?”

Again, Tillie looked at Mama Hannah. “That man has not been captured,” the older woman said, laying a warm brown hand on Alexandra’s cheek. “But do not fear. He will be far from you.”

“An official from the U.S. consulate is sitting out in the waiting room,” Tillie went on. “He’s cleared all the paperwork to get you on the first flight out. In fact, there’s already a plane scheduled for you. An ambulance will take you to the airport in a few minutes.”

Alexandra searched the two worried faces that hovered over her. Jones didn’t concern her much. Even her own health seemed oddly unimportant. But Grant . . . What about Grant?

“You’ll be happy to hear this,” Tillie said. “The consulate got word from the FBI that your stockbroker has been apprehended.”

“James Cooper.”

“That’s the guy. They nabbed him on some kind of embezzlement charges. Right now, they don’t have any solid evidence that he hired Jones to kill you, but they think they can show he was messing around with your stocks.”

“The money of which you like to think,” Mama Hannah said.

“I don’t care about that money anymore,” Alexandra whispered. “I surrendered it.”

“Ehh, this is of God. And the dying of which you also think?”

Alexandra shut her eyes. “I used to be so afraid of death, Mama Hannah. I wasn’t afraid to be dead—I knew I’d be in heaven. But I was frightened of the actual
process
of dying. I didn’t want to go through it.” She opened her eyes and held the old woman in her focus. “I’m not afraid anymore.”

“You have found peace.”

“Surrender.”

“A difficult thing,” she said. “Yet, such joy it brings when we surrender all to Jesus. All, my dear Alexandra.
All
.”

Mama Hannah’s benevolent face was replaced by that of a frowning African in a pale green cap. “Miss Prescott, I’m Dr. Karanja, your surgeon. How are you feeling?”

“I’ve felt better.”

“Indeed.” The flicker of a smile crossed his lips. “You will be escorted to the airport by a gentleman from the United States consulate. He will accompany you to Dallas, Texas, where you are scheduled for further surgery. A former instructor of mine will perform the surgical reconstruction necessary and will see that you obtain the finest medical care and therapies available. Do you have any questions, Miss Prescott?”

Grant,
she wanted to ask.
Where is Grant? When will I see him again? What’s to become of this ache in my heart?

“Very good, then,” the doctor said. “The airplane cabin will be fully pressurized, of course, but you may continue to experience some pain in your lung. I do not anticipate any further collapse of the organ. The wound in your arm also may give you a measure of discomfort. I suggest you attempt to rest as much as possible during the flight. I’ve prescribed some pain-relieving medications to be transmitted to you through your IV. Should these prove insufficient, you must inform the consulate representative. He has my instructions to assist you in all matters.”

“Thank you,” she managed.

“My best wishes to you, Miss Prescott,” he said. “And I hope you will not hold our country responsible for the misfortunes you have endured during your visit.”

“No . . . of course not.” She was still speaking as the gurney on which she lay began to roll.

As the doctor vanished, Mama Hannah’s face appeared again for a moment. “Good-bye, Alexandra. May God hold you in the palm of his hand.”

And then Tillie. “Get well, Alexandra! We’ll miss you.”

As she approached the doorway, another face materialized. “Get better, Alexandra,” Hubert said, his eyes filling with tears. “Thanks for helping me up that mountain. You and Grant are the best. The best.”

You and Grant. You and Grant.
Alexandra saw the starry sky unroll over her head before she was lifted into the back of a waiting ambulance. As the sirens began to whistle and the lights flashed on and off, she watched the stars of the Southern Cross gradually fade in the pink light of dawn.

“What do you mean she flew to the States?” Grant bellowed into the telephone.