Julian Makombe’s eyes closed.
Nick heard his own swift intake of breath and stepped back swiftly from the bed. Dr. Ngoma stepped forward and took the President’s hand.
“Go now, both of you,” he ordered sharply. “Yes, yes, he’s still alive. But get out of here!” He bent over the leader of his country, oblivious to the two men quietly leaving the shadowed room.
Rufus Makombe plunged out into the sunlight like a man wrenching himself from a nightmare. Nick stood behind him on the hospital porch, half-hearing the call of the wild birds that reminded him of Kenya and half-seeing the brilliance of the extravagant flowers that thrust their way through the vines that lovingly entwined themselves about the huge, gnarled trees.
Jefferson and Liz walked quietly past them toward the waiting car. Nick turned to Rufus Makombe, searching for the right words to say to a man whose brother was the President of his country and a man whose brother was so close to death by the bullet of an assassin. But he stopped before he started.
The look that Rufus Makombe turned upon him was one of absolute hatred.
“He still thinks there can be some other explanation,” he said very softly, his handsome face working. “But I do not. What is clear, is clear.” His hot eyes bored into Nick’s. “As long as he says I must help you, so I will. But I will tell you this: Only the gods themselves can help you if my brother dies.”
Mysterious Africa
Rufus Makombe’s sports car preceded them to the city, buzzing shrilly like an outraged bee. He had not stopped to waste insincere courtesies on anyone. The roar of his exhaust was like a slap in the face.
The Police Chief’s car made its way back to town more sedately. Nick had time to fill in the details missing from his first hasty survey of the troubled town. There had been armed guards and military vehicles at the hospital. Now he saw them everywhere. Hard-faced, uniformed men sat poised on throbbing motorcycles at the roadside, as if waiting for the starter’s signal. Armed men patrolled on foot. A convoy of jeeps passed them on the highway, heading out of town toward the hilly north.
Chief Jefferson sat in the front seat murmuring quietly into a two-way radio. Liz stared out of the window away from Nick, her lovely face pinched into a frown. Now that the sun had climbed past ten o’clock the day was hot and bright and the light almost harsh in its incredible clarity. The birds still sang as though they had something to be happy about and the air was fragrant with the warm scent of leaves and honeyed flowers in the sun. But there was something ominous in the very intensity of the light and the wild sweetness of the birdsong. The shadows appeared all the darker and the sound of marching feet and barked command all the more incongruous and unwelcome.
Jefferson clicked off his radio mike and turned to Nick.
“Government House?”
Nick shook his head. “This afternoon. As part of a general tour. I’ll have to send my respects to Vice-President Adebe, I expect, and then make arrangements with young Makombe for a car and some introductions.”
“I’ll supply the car,” said Jefferson. “In fact, if you will permit the suggestion, you may find it more satisfactory to put all your requests to me until Rufus Makombe is more himself.” His dark monkey-face was pleasant but inscrutable. “It is understandable that he is extremely distressed right now and is not concerned with the amenities. I shall be honored to assist you in any way I can.”
Nick smiled faintly. “You should have been the diplomat,” he commented. “May I ask why you don’t seem to share the prevailing resentment toward Americans in general and me in particular? Is it because your job demands that you keep an open mind, or has it something to do with your name?”
Abe Jefferson bared white, perfect teeth in a companionable grin. “Both. And more. I would gain nothing for my country by antagonizing you, whether or not the United States is behind all these frightful crimes. And then I have to admit that I am slightly prejudiced in America’s favor. I was brought up by an American family, on their farm about two hundred miles south of here. They taught me everything they could, from how to wash behind my ears to how to listen to music. Somewhere along the way they let me choose a name for myself. I’d lost my own, you see.” He said it casually, as though losing one’s name was an everyday sort of thing requiring no explanation. “We were doing history at the time. Otherwise you might have come to Africa to meet Huck Finn or Davy Crockett. Oh... by the way — slow down, Uru — that’s the Russian Embassy.”
He pointed out of the right hand window. Nick saw a mess of jagged walls and fallen brick. Torn trees thrust their raw branches through spaces that had once been windows. A piece of roof hung crazily over part of the front wall like a flap of torn and bleeding scalp. The rest of it had either crashed down inside the building or been blown to powder. Two soldiers stood watch over the ruins. But there was little left that needed watching.
“Two people were killed in that one,” said Liz, and her voice cracked. “It’s a miracle that it wasn’t any worse.”
Nick grunted agreement. “Pick up anyone for that, Chief?”
Jefferson shook his head. “No one even saw anyone. We think it was a time fuse. Could have been planted by any messenger or tradesman or repairman.”
“How about our Embassy? In anything like that shape?”
Liz answered. “Not quite that bad, but bad enough. The living quarters held up pretty well, and it happened over the weekend so no one was in the offices. Good thing, too, because they were wrecked.”
“I’d like that car for this afternoon, Chief,” Nick said thoughtfully. “And your presence too, if you can make it. My hotel at two o’clock?”
“Without fail,” nodded Jefferson.
“And something else,” said Nick. “I’m going to be at the Café Croix du Nord at noon. Uh... at the risk of stepping on someone’s toes, may I talk freely?”
“Absolutely.” Jefferson’s nod was emphatic. “Stonewall and Uru are more than staff. They are trusted friends.”
“Good.” Nick pulled thoughtfully at his ear, a habit he had caught from Hawk. Liz watched him, thinking to herself that he had very finely shaped ears. And a strong, decisive chin. Not to mention the almost godlike nose. And piercing eyes that could look hard as steel one moment and be filled with laughter the next. And beautifully muscular chest and shoulders... Down, girl, she told herself. These lonesome travelers with kiss appeal always turned out to have a wife and six or seven children.
“I’d like a messenger,” said Nick, pleasantly conscious of her scrutiny. “Someone you can trust, who isn’t known to be associated with you. I’ll be at a table near the door, conspicuously waiting for someone. Getting nervous and looking at my watch, because your man’s a little late. Have him there at about ten minutes past twelve, and let him bring me a verbal message of some kind. I don’t care what it is, just so long as he’s properly secretive and gives the impression that he’s bringing me information of immense significance. I’ll talk to him for a few minutes and then give him his cue to leave. Do you have anyone who can play a role like that? It’s particularly important that he should look capable of... let’s say, selling information, and yet be completely trustworthy. Also, as I said, that he has no known connection with you.”