Polomo stepped forward and placed a hand on Temba's shoulder. "You could join us, Temba. You could come here and live with us. He can provide us with all the food we need. He can protect us from the militias. Out here we can live the lives we were always meant to, without fear."

Temba's eyes met Ndola's. They were talking about magic. Such things were impossible. This man they were speaking of was a trickster, a charlatan. He had taken advantage of the Mbuti pain and duped them. He turned to Polomo. "Give me Sam. That's all that I ask. Give me Sam, and I will forgive you for Kuntolo's death. I will leave this place and never come back."

Polomo's fingers slid off Temba's shoulder and closed around his spear with a look of regret. "We can't do that."

"Why, because he wants her?" Temba's back went rigid. His thigh muscles tensed, ready to spring.

"He won't be happy when he learns Temba was here," Ndola pointed out. "No one can know of this place. We know Temba cannot be trusted."

"You should leave here," Polomo said. "If you will not join us, you need to leave now."

"I won't leave without Sam," Temba answered. "What? Will you kill me like you killed Kuntolo?"

Polomo hesitated. His palm slid across his forehead. A look pa.s.sed between Ndola and Polomo. Temba watched Ndola's hand slide to the small bow at his shoulder.

Sam scoffed.

Guy's grin mocked her.

"You don't believe in magic, Sam?" he asked.

"Are you f.u.c.king serious?"

"'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.' Are you familiar with that statement?"

She shrugged half-heartedly. He was teasing her, and she was tired of it.

"Arthur C. Clarke," Guy clarified. "I wouldn't have kept you here if you weren't a scientist. I think I've made that quite obvious. But in order to understand the forces at play, you're going to have to keep a very open mind. And, you're going to need to be a lot more cooperative. Will you reconsider coming with me now? Have I aroused your curiosity enough?"

She grimaced. "I'd rather sit here on the floor."

The Belgian scowled. "Suit yourself, American," he hissed and pulled something from his pocket.

Temba's heel struck Polomo between the ribs, blasting air from the Mbuti's lungs. He tumbled to the ground at the feet of his fellows. Temba's other foot slipped in the mud, and he stumbled, catching himself with one arm before he collapsed.

Ndola's bow came up, arrow drawn. Half a dozen spearheads rose with it.

Temba turned and sprinted. His feet slipped in the mud, but he kept his balance as he ran. An arrow sliced the air near his shoulder. His instinct kicked in, and he pivoted and bolted in the opposite direction.

The change in direction sent him barreling into a small BaMbuti hut. Wood and leaves splintered under the crashing weight of his body. Mud flung into the air. Temba collapsed amidst the torn boughs to see the others right behind him.

Kitu came down at him, spear thrusting in an overhead jab. Tangled amid the debris, Temba couldn't get out of the way. The spearhead drove toward his ribs. Temba's fingertips brushed a wooden shaft to his right. He swung the shaft to block the coming blow. An axe blade hooked around the spearhead and drove it to Temba's left. Kitu stumbled off-balance, and Temba raised a heel, connecting solidly with the Mbuti's chest.

Kitu fell back, gasping for air.

Temba rolled to his feet, axe still in hand, now held defensively. He squared off against the Mbuti who moved to surround him. As Kitu climbed to his feet, Temba swung the axe to hold his attackers at bay. They kept their distance for the moment, spears held at length.

Temba found his opening before they encircled him completely. He took off running for the undergrowth at the edge of the clearing. He heard the tw.a.n.g of a bowstring and ducked. The arrow flew overhead and split a low hanging leaf.

Temba dove into the foliage a moment later. With the undergrowth so thick, he kicked his feet up high, arms extended. He hit the ground headfirst and ducked into a roll. As he came up to his feet, he heard a spear thwack into the brush behind him.

He remembered his planned escape route and followed it exactly, only pausing for a moment to retrieve his bow and arrows. Temba heard the others shouting at the edge of the clearing. Instead of chasing after him, they stared into the forest with bows and spears ready.

Temba wondered how many of their arrows were already tipped with lethal poison.

They've all gone mad.

He didn't wait to find out if they'd chase him. Surely they'd only wait so long and they were excellent trackers. Temba picked a direction and ran.

Sam almost expected death. She thought he had gone for a weapon. What he produced confused her even more.

"When you are ready to cooperate, perhaps I'll answer your questions," Guy told her. "Until then, you can refuse my hospitality. But I will leave you this to consider."

Tiny scratches at the corners of the familiar pink plastic casing showed how long she had owned it. She had carried it with her through Africa, even though its uses in the wilderness were limited.

"The battery is long dead. Even if it weren't, there is no service to speak of in a hundred miles. Take a long look at it. Like me, it holds all the answers you're looking for."

Guy tossed it at her feet and turned away. As he disappeared, Sam watched the cell phone skid to a stop on the rough wooden floor. There it sat, just out of reach.

22.

Water trickled through as the last raindrops made their slow descent through the thick canopy. Darkness fell in the jungle. The cloudy sky took on a periwinkle hue with dusk upon them.

The click of a gun's safety jolted Ike's nerves. His hands tightened around his rifle. He didn't have time to raise it before he was staring down the barrel of his own Desert Eagle. Gilles' intense eyes stared back at him.

The tension lasted only a moment, before the Congolese mercenary relaxed and lowered his weapon.

"Sorry, Ike."

"No worries, mate," Ike replied uneasily. "It was an honest mistake."

"I didn't hear you coming is all," Gilles explained.

"Easy. Just relax," Ike a.s.sured him with a pat on the shoulder.

Delani emerged from the jungle behind Ike and the three mercenaries walked to the embankment. Occasional flooding kept this stretch of sh.o.r.eline from overgrowing and provided a small beach against the stream for the group to relax. Raoul, Brandon, and Nessa sat at the edge of the undergrowth collecting their breath.

Ike crouched beside Nessa. The chemist sat on a thick branch, hunched forward to inspect her leg. The leg of her pants was rolled up to her knee and a tight b.l.o.o.d.y bandage constricted her calf.

"How y' holding up, luv?" Ike asked her.

"Not bad, considering," she replied with a slight grin.

"We're gonna be crossing the stream soon. How do you feel about that?"

Nessa watched the slow-moving water. A few old logs clogged this particular bend, washed downstream by yearly flooding. "Do you know how many parasites are in there?"

"I'd say quite a few."

She smiled again, and Ike felt an urge to kiss her. He would have if he weren't so aware of Delani standing not far behind him. The South African whispered something to Brandon. The poor American was probably worried sick about his wife, still lost somewhere in the jungle, possibly dead.

Ike wondered if Nessa was worried about Alfred. Just in case, he placed a hand on her shoulder. He meant the gesture to be rea.s.suring, but his thumb found the hot skin of her collarbone, just above the collar of her shirt. They shared a look.

"They're going to expect us to follow the river," Delani pointed out.

Ike turned from Nessa to face his boss. "Well, there isn't much we can do about that now, is there? And that's the problem. They know we have no choice. If we wander into the jungle we're going to get lost."

"You think they're still behind us?" Brandon asked.

"I know they are, mate," Ike replied with certainty. "For some reason they want us dead. And bad. This means, they either think we've got something they want, or they're trying to cover something up."

Ike saw a realization flash across Brandon's face. "These militias are government-backed right? They depend on foreign money to operate, don't they?"

"That's right."

"Well. What if they committed some truly horrible war crimes out here? Rape, cannibalism, genocide."

"Cannibalism?" Ike scoffed. "I've heard stories, but . . ."

"Just listen to me for a second. If stories of those crimes got out; I mean if foreigners like us saw evidence of them, there could be a lot of pressure for those governments to pull out their support."

"I'm not sure Rwanda and Uganda are all that worried about what the world thinks of them," Ike argued.

"What about other countries?" Brandon challenged.

"What other countries?" It was all speculation, Ike realized. He'd never known Americans were so paranoid.

"Why they are after us is not a concern," Delani said. "It doesn't change the fact that they are."

"He's right," Ike agreed. "We need to be getting out of this mess. We can wonder about it later."

"Let's start getting across the river then," Delani ordered. He gestured for them to get to their feet.

Nessa rose slowly, testing her lower leg before putting her weight on it. "But it won't matter if we cross the river, will it?"

Delani studied Nessa.

"You already said. They know we're following the river, because we don't have a choice," she continued.

"We could double back and follow it the other way. The stream branches from the pond in other directions."

"And walk right past them?" Nessa asked doubtfully.

"What do you suggest, Doctor?"

"We can find another terrain feature to follow. If we can find the lowlands, there should be a swamp. We can circle that until we come to the other side of the river." Nessa turned and pointed to Brandon. "He said he could show us how to get there."

All eyes turned toward Brandon, who looked up in surprise. "I never saw any swamp."

"Well, the wetlands," Nessa said, stepping closer.

Brandon shouldered his pack, while carrying Sam's. His feet sank in the mud of the riverbank. "I never saw any wetlands. Sam said she did. But . . ."

"But what?"

Brandon took a deep breath. Nessa stood across from him, her expression masked in the dim light of dusk.

"Sam might have made it up," he admitted with great difficulty.

"Made it up?" Nessa's jaw dropped. "Why the h.e.l.l would she do something like that? So we'd help you get your b.l.o.o.d.y plane? Is that it?"

He moved his mouth as if to speak an apology, but nothing came out.

"Let me see if I'm hearing you right," Nessa fumed. "You lied to Alfred. Lied to us, so we'd come out here with you and help you get your f.u.c.king plane, is that right? And now there are only six of us left, out of ten. Four of us have been f.u.c.king killed, when there isn't even a G.o.dd.a.m.ned swamp out here at all. We came out here to help you and now my partner and our guides and your lying b.i.t.c.h of a wife are dead!"

"Nessa, please," Ike whispered stepping closer, ready to get between them.

"Shut up, Ike," she growled. "I've had it up to here with this place. And the flower isn't even out here. This is just another waste of time, another dead end."

"Sam isn't dead," Brandon replied quietly, a slight tremor in his voice. "You don't know her. She's still alive and Alfred is fine. Temba is with them both and they're going to be okay."

"You're insane," Nessa cried. "Give it up, will you! You saw what happened to the pygmy. That was a poisoned arrow. They're dead. For all we know, Temba was in on it. He leads you all off into the jungle and then disappears?"

"Dr. Singer," Delani warned. "Please try to keep your voice down. There are still rebels in the forest."

Nessa's voice quieted, but she stood rigid and pointed an accusing finger at Brandon. "I hope you realize while we're all dying, that it was your fault this happened. You and your f.u.c.king wife."

Brandon's face reddened. He was about to respond when something caught his attention. He froze, his eyes locked on the water. Ike followed his gaze to the black stream and the dead logs, half-submerged beneath the surface. Ike was suddenly aware how close to the stream they all stood.

"Dr. Singer," Brandon whispered.

Nessa looked at him curiously.

"Get away from the water," he urged.

The closest log sprang to life. Ike nearly choked on his own innards. A flash of reptilian hide exploded from the water, moving onto the muddy sh.o.r.e with lightning speed. Although, long and built low to the ground and with those sleepy lizard eyes, the monster displayed incredible agility. Long razor jaws snapped shut. In one moment, Nessa stood on the sh.o.r.e facing Brandon, and in the next, she was yanked to the ground, chest and face in the mud, thighs clamped tight by a deadly vice.

For half a second Ike stood stunned, unable to react.

Brandon acted a second sooner. He had seen the crocodile in the water. He grabbed Nessa by the arms to pull her away. The crocodile was the stronger and the muscles in its jaws would not open once locked. Stiletto teeth sank into the flesh of Nessa's thighs, crushing the bones underneath. The creature backpedaled toward the stream, dragging her with it. Brandon held on tight as his knees and feet were dragged through the mud behind him.