Annja made the introductions, giving Garin’s name as Gar Lambert, a professional treasure hunter she’d bumped into while in town.
Hallinger and Ganesvoort seemed pleased by the possibility that someone familiar with the area—and someone who had armed men at his disposal—could join the expedition.
McIntosh and his entourage weren’t so easy to convince. They sat together at the back of the room Garin had reserved for the meeting.
“It’s amazing how you just happened to come along,” McIntosh said.
“Not so amazing,” Garin replied. He’d changed clothes, dropping the suit and slipping into jeans and a khaki shirt. He also affected an American accent. The skill of weaving different accents and behaviors was something Annja had noticed in both Roux and Garin. Both men were as skilled as trained actors. “I’ve been watching the news. I knew Annja was in West Africa. We’ve already been here for weeks.”
The dozen men who followed Garin were hard-eyed and silent. Most of them looked as if they’d fit right in with the Kidira citizens. Except that most of the Senegalese didn’t look like killers.
“When we ran into each other earlier,” Annja said, “I explained what we were doing.” She looked at McIntosh. “I also told him we were short on manpower.”
Garin smiled. “Naturally, I couldn’t let Annja go trekking around the wilds of the savanna unprotected. Especially not with Tafari gunning for her.”
“Naturally,” McIntosh said sarcastically.
Annja didn’t say anything, although the expression on McIntosh’s face made it tempting. She kept quiet, and after a few minutes, everyone began discussing how they were going to get the expedition under way.
“HOW WELL do you know this guy?”
Annja glanced at McIntosh as they walked along the sidewalk.
Garin and his crew of mercenary cutthroats had set out to finalize the vehicles and armament they were taking.
“I trust him,” Annja said.
“With your life?”
“Yes.”
“What about the lives of the rest of us?”
Annja stopped and wheeled on McIntosh so fiercely that he backed up a step. “I trust him with the lives of other people as much as I trust you with them, Agent McIntosh.”
Passersby started going around them, giving them a wide berth.
“Furthermore,” Annja said, “you and your men don’t have to take this trip if you don’t want to.”
McIntosh got his feet under him and leaned into her. “I came this far with you. I’m not going to turn tail now.”
“We’re not on your turf anymore,” Annja said, feeling a little concerned for him. “This isn’t Atlanta. That wilderness out there isn’t like anything you’ve ever dealt with. This is my game now.”
“Except for your buddy. Looks like it’s his game, too.”
“He’s been around this kind of thing longer than I have,” she said.
“Tafari is still out there somewhere, Annja.”
“I know,” she said. “That’ll give you the chance to capture him like you wanted. You should be glad.”
“Well, I’m not.” McIntosh was breathing hard.
Annja got the impression he was about to do something stupid, like try to kiss her. That’s the last thing I need right now, she told herself.
McIntosh cursed and walked away.
“SOMEBODY’S COMING.”
Annja looked up from her computer and stared down the trail that cut through the savanna. Kidira was hours behind them, and the western sky was starting to turn purple with the dimming of the day. They were making their way toward a distant hill to the west. Locals, Annja had discovered when she’d asked, had called the place Brothers of Water. Given that the Spider Stone showed a suggestion of waterways in the map—at least, she hoped it was a suggestion of waterways— Anansi’s treasure was likely to be hidden somewhere near there.
Garin rode in the lead Land Rover. His driver halted. The other drivers behind him fanned out, all of them parking in a formation that allowed for defensive moves.
“I need you to stay put, Ms. Creed,” Annja’s driver said. He rolled the vehicle to a stop, then closed a big hand around the assault rifle between the seats.
Annja put her computer away. She wore a .45-caliber semiautomatic on her hip. Her T-shirt and cargo pants were soaked through from the heat. She wore a New York Yankees baseball cap and wraparound sunglasses.
All of Garin’s crew had drawn their weapons. McIntosh and his people had, too. The possibility of an outside threat seemed to unify the two forces.
The approaching Land Rover halted a few feet in front of Garin’s vehicle. Tanisha Diouf slid out of the passenger side. She was dressed in khakis, a green T-shirt tucked into her pants. Stopping, she called out, “Annja Creed.”
Annja stepped out of the vehicle and onto the trail. “Tanisha.”
The woman’s face split into a wide, generous smile. “You’ve been invited to join us.”
“Us?” Annja echoed.
Tanisha pointed to the side of her Land Rover. Childress Corporation was emblazoned on the side. “I talked to Mr. Childress. He agreed to help you get as far into the savanna as safely as you can. If you’re interested.”
“I am,” Annja said.
Tanisha walked over to her. “I was hoping you would say that. My boys have been worried about you. They thought maybe something had happened to you after you left us.”
Annja grinned. “I’m glad nothing’s happened to you.”
“Mr. Childress believes the train was attacked by bandits hoping to steal some of the cargo,” Tanisha said. “The next time he has a shipment coming in, it’ll be protected.”
Annja nodded.
“Mind if I ride with you?” Tanisha asked. “We can talk along the way.”
“Sure.”
Garin’s men repositioned themselves, making room for Tanisha.
“Follow that vehicle,” Tanisha instructed the driver. “We’ve got a base camp not far from here.”
Tanisha looked at Annja. “Do you have those maps you had on the train? Let me have a peek and maybe I can get you closer to where you need to go.”
“ARE YOU an investor, then?” Victor Childress peered at Garin.
“Yes,” Garin replied. “Well, not really investing so much. That’s a little rich for my blood. But I do speculate. If something catches my eye.”
Annja sat at the folding table their host had provided. Everyone was relaxing after a generous meal.
Bashir sat on her lap and kept distracting Annja with whispered comments despite his mother’s admonitions. Kamil had allowed Annja to take a look at his cut, even though it interfered with his manly acting. She’d been pleased to find the wound was healing well.
“Oil is where the money is,” Childress said. “If you have it, you make money. But do you know who else makes money?”
Annja knew Childress had consumed a fair bit of wine with the meal.
“Who?” Garin asked as if he was intensely interested. For all Annja knew, maybe he was.
“The people who transport it and sell it at the pump, of course,” Childress said. “And the corporations that refine oil.”
“I guess that’s true enough,” Garin said.
McIntosh was ignoring the conversation for the most part. His attention was directed at the dark savanna outside the ring of lights that lit the camp.
“Did you know that Nigeria, not that far from here, actually,” Childress said, “is the largest African producer of oil?”
“No,” Garin replied.
“Well, they are. Unfortunately, that country is being torn apart by American oil interests and a corrupt government. Hobbled as they are, battered between gangsters and native militias, they can’t enter a competitive market. Also nearby, Mauritania’s army ousted their president and are looking to do business. In the past, they’ve had to go through American companies. Childress Corporation is here to change that.”
From the short time she’d been around the man, Annja could see that Childress had a high opinion of himself. With McIntosh and Garin already butting heads over who was the alpha male of the expedition, there was too much testosterone in the air.
“I contracted with the Senegalese government to set up a refinery out here,” Childress said. “We’re in the process of building it now. At the same time, another facet of Childress Corporation is also laying pipe from Mauritania to Senegal. When everything’s finished, we’ll pump the oil across from Mauritania and refine it here. We hope we’ll pick up some business from Nigeria, as well.”
ANNJA WORKED in the small dome tent she’d set up for the night.
A shadow darkened the door and Garin’s deep voice said, “Knock, knock.”
“Come in.” Annja sat cross-legged on the floor of the tent. The computer was plugged into an electrical outlet maintained by one of the camp’s generator trucks.
Garin entered the tent, having to hunker low. He scowled, then spoke in Latin. “Speak this language. I don’t want to be understood by the guards posted nearby, or by the bugs.”
“What bugs?” Annja asked in Latin.
“Our host is spying on us.”
“Why?”
Garin grinned. “Because he’s not a good guy. All that talk he had of setting up a refinery to do fair business with Mauritania and Nigeria? Do you know what he’s really banking on?”
“No.”
“Bandits. Oil thieves. They’ve got them all over those countries. As Mauritania was getting ready to enter the oil market, the army pushed out the president, broke off relations with the Americans and went into business with an Australian firm. Nigeria has been conducting sporadic warfare over oil for years. Tanker trucks are stolen from those fields all the time.”
“That’s going on in the Middle East, too,” Annja said.
“Everyone’s watching the Middle East,” Garin said. He shook his head. “Childress is setting himself up well. He can deal with the bandits in all those countries to subsidize his legitimate business, and have an oil refinery that can sell gasoline right back to the locals, as well as ship it out to the rest of Africa and even Europe. It’s a sweet setup. But do you know what he needs?”
Annja didn’t like where her mind automatically went because it left Tanisha and her children exposed. “A local warlord to handle all the strong-arm work,” she said.
“You know,” Garin said, “you don’t think like an archaeologist.”
“To the contrary,” Annja said, “if you study history, you’ll see that every culture, nation or people that existed or exists was influenced by what they had or what they wanted or needed. If they had something, they lived a life of other people trying to take it away from them. If they wanted or needed something, they lived a life struggling to get it.” She sighed.
She looked at Garin. “So we can’t trust Childress.”
“No.” Garin grinned. “But we let him think we do.”
“You think he’s going to sell us out to Tafari?”
“I think he already has. Once you find Anansi’s treasure, the jaws of the trap will close.”
“Then it makes no sense to try to find it,” Annja said.
“Now you disappoint me. If we try to leave, deviate from our mission of trying to find the treasure, the jaws of the trap will close anyway. We’ll have to fight and maybe lose a lot of people. But if we find the treasure, Tafari and Childress should at least be distracted. Then we’ll act to do what we can.”
“We could try to slip away. Choose the path of least resistance.” Annja didn’t want to chance getting McIntosh, Hallinger or Ganesvoort hurt. It was her fault that they’d come this far.
“What about the woman? The engineer and her kids? The other innocent people who are part of this operation? Do you want to just leave them out here?” Garin asked.
Annja knew she was tired because she hadn’t thought far enough. She’d been using all her energy to try to find a match on the maps. She shook her head.
“I’d be willing to bet that Tafari or Childress will use your connection to them against you,” Garin continued. “After you had the little boy on your knee for most of the night, you’ve left yourself—and them—open to that.” He paused. “If it was me, I would use them against you.”
Annja knew he told her that honestly, even though it would remind her of the reasons not to like or trust him. But he knows I don’t have a choice now, she thought. I have to trust him. And maybe, if he wants to find Anansi’s treasure, he has to trust me.
She took a deep breath and let it out. “What do we do?”
In the darkness of the tent, Garin’s lips curled back in a wolfish smile. “When the time is right, we’ll act.”
Annja nodded.
“I’m going to have to come see you more often, little angel,” Garin said in a light tone. “You do lead an interesting life.” He turned and crawled back through the tent flaps. “I just hope the cursed luck of that sword doesn’t get you killed.” He tossed her a smile over his shoulder as he disappeared into the night lying in wait outside.
THE CARAVAN STARTED out early the next morning. In spite of all he’d drunk and the lateness of his evening, Victor Childress was one of the first to be ready. He wore safari clothes and carried a big-game hunting rifle slung over his shoulder.
“Since I seem to be having trouble with the local toughs,” he said, “what with the equipment sabotage and the train wreck, I thought I’d get better equipped.”
Annja looked at him, wondering if what Garin had told her the previous night was really true. Childress seemed amiable and harmless, actually enthusiastic about helping. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that Garin was right.
It takes a villain to know a villain, she told herself. She wondered again about Garin’s own motivations, and whether he was the villain she’d thought him to be. Here he was, laying his life on the line. But for what?
“You don’t have to come,” Annja told Childress. “I think we’ve got enough people to handle everything.”
“Nonsense.” Childress sipped gourmet coffee from a stainless-steel mug. “If you and your group hadn’t run off those sods that ambushed the train, they might well have made off with all of my equipment. I’m certain that’s what they were after.”
Annja wondered if he was attempting to allay any suspicions about Tafari.
“While we’re waiting on replacement equipment,” Childress said, “I can spare Tanisha and a few of my men to help you out for a few days. Once the new equipment gets here, we’ll have to tend to our own kettle of fish.”
Annja made herself smile and thank him.
The group set out across the savanna, following the course she’d developed from the map on the Spider Stone.
BY MIDDAY, everyone was hot and tired. They followed trails made by wagons and carts when they could, picked up fragments of footpaths and game trails when they couldn’t and blazed new paths when they couldn’t do anything else. One of the Land Rovers went down with a flat tire, bringing the caravan to a halt.
Annja stood in the shade of the vehicle she rode in and compared the terrain to what she understood from the Spider Stone. Either it’s starting to look familiar because I’ve been looking at it too long, or we’re getting close.
As she opened a bottle of water, McIntosh joined her. His shirt was dark with sweat and a film of dust that stuck to the moisture. She tossed him a bottle of water from the cooler in the back of the Land Rover. His men and Garin’s had set up a defensive perimeter around the vehicles.
“I keep getting this feeling we’re being followed,” McIntosh said as he opened the water and drank.
“We are.” Annja nodded upward at the large birds that floated gracefully in the still sky. They were two feet long with a wingspan nearly three times that. Brown feathers covered their plump, ungainly bodies, and their heads were a pinkish bald knob.
McIntosh shaded his eyes and looked up. “What are those?”
“Hooded vultures. You’ll find them in the wild, as well as around towns.”
“I thought I saw some like them in Kidira.”
Annja nodded. “They feed near slaughterhouses more often than they feed out in the wilderness. They’re the smallest of the African vultures, but the swiftest. Generally they’re the first to find a carcass, but they’re so much weaker that everything else drives them away.”
“They’ve spotted us and think we’re going to croak, huh?” McIntosh said.
Despite her misgivings, Annja smiled. “I hope not.”
McIntosh spoke without looking at her. “I think you’re right about Childress.”
She’d gone to McIntosh’s tent after Garin had left hers, and told him what Garin suspected. McIntosh had said he doubted that Garin knew what he was talking about.
“Why the change of heart?” Annja asked.
“Do you know many millionaires who figure they have time in their day to intentionally go out and try to get themselves killed?”
“What are you talking about?”
McIntosh looked at her. “I don’t think Childress would be out here beating the bush with us unless he thought he had a lock on things.” He nodded toward the man, who was conferring with some of his own men. “Whatever’s going on in his mind, he thinks he has a free pass.”
Annja agreed.
“I think we need to drop this,” McIntosh went on. “Just tell Childress that you were wrong, that Anansi’s treasure is a big hoax—”
“He’s not going to believe that if Tafari doesn’t believe that.”
“Tell him the treasure isn’t located anywhere around here.”
Annja was quiet for a moment. The men had finished replacing the tire on the Land Rover, and everyone was preparing to continue.
“It is, though,” Annja said. “And I’ll bet Tafari knows it is, too.” She took out the Spider Stone and looked at the map etched on its surface. She knew every line of it by now. “Leaving isn’t the answer. We’re too deep into it now. The only way out is to go through with this.”