"The pygmies did it for the money," Delani said. "Don't bring them into this."

"Even so," Ike said, stepping closer to Delani.

"I'm worried about getting my company to safety," Delani explained softly and dangerously. "If there is an easier way to do that, then let me know."

"There's another way we can go," Ike reasoned. "The militia army hacked us a trail straight through the forest. You can bet it leads to a road."

"That would be suicide," Delani argued.

"Once we're out there we can lose them and make for the village."

"Enough, Ike, there's nothing here for us. I'm not risking our lives anymore."

Ike turned to Gilles. "Help me out, mate."

Gilles held his hands up. "This place is cursed, Ike; the sooner we are out, the better."

Ike shook his head. Brandon thought about the militia attacking the village; if that happened he'd have no way of finding Sam.

"I can't . . ." Ike began.

"You can't?" Delani asked. "If you can't, Ike, then by all means do what you want. Stay here and fight. Maybe the lying American or the drunken Frenchman will help you, but Gilles and I are leaving."

With that Delani gestured for Gilles to pick up his pack and they headed east along the river. Raoul glanced back and forth between the mercenaries, confused and wide-eyed. Brandon's attention stayed on Ike, who shook his head and clenched his fist.

The AK-47 dropped from Ike's shoulder and came up in his hands, c.o.c.ked and ready. Ike stared down the barrel at the back of Delani's head.

Brandon's eyes went wide, but he didn't intervene.

"Delani!" Ike yelled.

The South African turned around. The moment he saw the gun pointed at him he reached for his pistol, but thought better of it as Ike took aim. For a few long seconds, the river trickled in the distance. Somewhere a cackle rose and fell silent, a distressed animal.

"Take one more step and I'll put two bullets in your head," Ike warned.

Brandon felt too close to Ike's line of fire and wanted to back away, but he feared any movement would bring attention to him.

"I can't let you do it," Ike said. "I can't let you. Not today. I've done it before. I've just sat by and watched, but I can't do it anymore. I don't have it in me."

"What are you talking about?" Delani asked, his voice wavering.

Ike used the back of his forearm to wipe sweat from his brow so he didn't have to divert his weapon. "I'm staying. You can bet I'm staying, mate. But it won't do any good if you go leading them straight to the village anyway. So I'm going to have to shoot you if you try."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Of course, I would," Ike replied immediately. "You don't believe me? I'll tell you why. Because you and me and Gilles, we're killers. Worse, we're hired killers. Those people back in that village are nothing of the sort. They went through that whole trouble of hiding themselves, just so they could live in peace and not have to kill. That puts their worth above you and me, if you ask me.

"I'd value just one of them above us three at this point. h.e.l.l, Brandon here's worth more to me than us. So is the drunk. We're a sorry lot, mate. The world would never miss us. We're nothing if we're not protecting them as far as I'm concerned. You might be here for the money. Maybe your contract is up. That's not why I'm here. If you do it. If you take one more step in that direction, I will put you down and I won't hesitate. Or you can forget about it and come along with me. What do you say? It's your choice."

Brandon read the look in Delani's eyes and realized the inherent flaw in Ike's tactics. The moment Ike lowered his weapon Delani would raise his.

"Two hundred thousand dollars," Brandon blurted.

The two mercenaries refused to turn from each other, but both looked at him out of the corners of their eyes.

"I'll pay you two hundred thousand dollars if you go with Ike's plan. I don't have it with me, obviously, but I'm good for it. Ike knows-he's seen me on television."

"That's true," Ike said quietly.

Delani's cold gaze fell on Brandon.

"Two hundred thousand dollars for a couple of days in the jungle has to be worth it," Brandon said.

"It won't change our odds," Delani replied.

"Well, that's okay. Ike's got a plan," Brandon countered. "I'm gonna guess it's a good one. Raoul's in. I can't ask him, but I know he is. I'll do everything I can to help. Anything you ask. I'll even write up the check now. That way, if something happens to me, you're still guaranteed the money."

"You have a check on you right now?" Delani asked.

"It's in my pack," Brandon promised. "I'll go get it."

He headed to his pack. Two hundred thousand dollars was a small price to see his wife back safely. He'd go much higher if they asked. When he looked back at them, he witnessed an exchange between the mercenaries.

After several moments, Ike lowered the AK-47.

They followed the river west, staying along the north bank. While they took a roundabout route, straying far into the forest, Ike broke away from them and skirted the riverbank. He hoped to spot the militia soldiers pa.s.sing on the opposite bank. They needed the rebels to see they had turned around or else the army would follow the river straight to the village anyway.

He needn't have worried.

Around mid-day, Ike spotted the trailing militia soldiers, but not on the opposite bank. Somehow they had crossed the river and now moved behind the mercenaries, heading west. And so as Ike planned, he would lead them straight back to their own camp.

Ike met up with the others soon after spotting their pursuers. Delani gave Ike a look that said he had better know what he was doing. Ike's plan put them right between the main militia body and the a.s.sault group dispatched to hunt them down. A small mistake would leave them surrounded and doomed.

By mid-afternoon, they again crossed the river, this time not far from the pond. They easily found the trail cut in the forest and, while Gilles helped by carrying Nessa, Ike took a point position. Smoke from campfires gave away the army's position, so they stopped in the nearby jungle while Ike went on ahead.

As the Australian mercenary crept through the brush toward the encampment, the sky finally began to darken. And as had happened every night for the previous month, before the stars began to shine, dark storm clouds gathered above. But that night, as thunder rolled across the distant hills, and Ike watched blue shafts turn deep indigo, he began to think that this storm wasn't like the previous storms. Something more menacing, something more spectacular awaited.

He couldn't know how right he was.

28.

Mind control: Alfred's words reverberated in Sam's mind. He uses the river as a sounding board, but a sounding board for what? She clutched her useless cell phone as if it held untold answers as she followed Guy through the rain. She had to stand close to him to stay under his umbrella. An Mbuti guard was never far away.

The words "mind control" were firm in her mind for other reasons as well. Like some cult leader, Guy kept her isolated, forced her to depend on him, and invoked her name like it held some sort of magical power.

By the time they returned to the meeting hall, the thick rain and the dark sky blotted out the enormous elephant skull, except when lightning flashed and the haunting eyes flared to life.

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?"