Private Lies (23 page)

Was he being overly cheerful, he wondered? He was certain
Maggie would get the message. Actually, they were no more than a
forty-five-minute walk from the van, but only if you knew the way.

He felt, he admitted to himself, some very slight
trepidation about safety, but the odds of danger, at least from animals, seemed
small, considering that they were approaching midday, siesta time for man and
beast. Also, Carol was well versed in safety procedures.

Briefly, an errant thought flew into his mind. And if there
was danger, real danger? He would not allow such an idea to take root as he started
on the trail through the copse back to the plain.

"May I go?" Maggie asked, as if on perfect cue.
He stopped and turned.

"Good idea, Maggie," Ken chirped, good-naturedly.
"Keep him from getting lost."

"Of course you're welcome," Eliot said. "But
it's not necessary."

"Really, I'd love to."

"I'll sit this dance out," Ken said. "You go
on."

"And I can use the time to stretch out," Carol
said as she swung the other leg over the fallen trunk and bent down low.
"Then do my daily dozen."

"Just don't stray," Eliot called over his
shoulder, chuckling at his double entendre. Indeed stray, Eliot thought. Stray
with all your might. He increased the speed of his stride.

"Wait for me," Maggie said, catching up to Eliot,
walking behind him until they broke into the clear. "I see the method in
your madness."

"I thought you would," Eliot said.

"And there's no danger?"

"Minimum," Eliot said. "Carol understands
all the do's and don'ts."

"You are one foxy fellow," Maggie said
cheerfully.

"We'll sort of meander back to the van. Meade probably
has the truck fixed by now and is waiting for us. We'll take him on a merry
chase until we find them. Give them a few glorious hours alone together."

"One might say you've certainly led the horse to
water."

"Best I could do," he said, laughing, feeling
good. "We may just get lucky."

They continued their walk, reaching a rise that afforded a
view of a vast perimeter. To the west, he could see herds of zebras and
gazelles. To the east, impalas and the occasional oryx. And above them, small
puffs of cottony white clouds floating in a cerulean sky.

"Can they see us?" Maggie asked.

"Through binoculars, yes."

"Can I kiss you?"

"Not until we clear the rise."

"Spoilsport."

They continued to climb, expanding the perimeter of their
vision.

"Can't say we haven't given them every
opportunity," Eliot said. So far the day's conspiracy had worked as he had
planned it. A miracle in its way. After a while, when he didn't return for
them, Ken and Carol would confront some level of anxiety. This could bond them,
establish a commonality, a point of reference between them. Naturally, he hoped
it would spark something more.

"Now?" Maggie asked, interrupting his thoughts.

They were over the rise and he recognized the landmarks as
they continued to move.

"Soon," he said, taking her hand and heading in
the direction of an acacia tree on a low rise ahead of them. The sun was rising
steadily, but a strong breeze kept the heat at bay.

When they reached the tree, he embraced her, kissing her
deeply.

"I love you," he said.

"With all your soul? With all your heart? With all
your body?"

"With everything," he said.

They made love hard and quick against the acacia tree.

"Will it work, Eliot? Will we be together
always?" she asked when they had finished and straightened their clothing.

"Absolutely."

"No matter what?"

"I'll find a way. You must trust me."

"Maybe..."

"No, we mustn't even think that."

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

"I know. I've thought the same thing."

"It's horrible, I know."

"Yes, quite horrible."

He put his finger on her lips to stop her from saying more
and they prepared themselves to walk again.

Holding hands, they moved silently over the plain. On the
next rise they could see the van and Meade and one of his men working on the
motor. They released their hands and moved toward it.

As they came closer, Meade lifted his head and squinted as
he focused on them. The back of his khaki shirt was soaked with perspiration
and great droplets hung from his chin. He observed them with scowling bloodshot
eyes and a snarl.

"Bloody hell. I swear, if I wasn't a trusting man, I'd
say we were sabotaged. I could see one loose, maybe two, even three, but this
is bloody hell."

His man, black skin glistening with sweat, stood to one
side, ignoring them. It was obvious that he had worked hard.

"Damn thing bent the block and got it off alignment.
We've been hammering it back to true, but it's not exactly easy pickings out
here."

"Can I help?" Eliot asked, cutting a glance at
Maggie. He hadn't expected the damage to be that extensive.

"Can't get more than two working on this at
once," Meade said, poking his head under the hood. After a few moments of
grunting and clanking, Meade with a hammer and his man with a huge wrench, he
straightened up and wiped his brow with a sweat-soaked handkerchief. Then he
looked at them in mid-wipe.

"Where are the others?"

"Back there," Eliot said, making a vague gesture
with his hand.

Meade seemed puzzled.

"You left them out there?" he asked, frowning,
inspecting Maggie's face as if to say: Why is this one here?

"We thought you'd be ready by now," Eliot said.
"We're no more than minutes away."

Miracles multiplied, he thought. His plan was to take Meade
in circles in order to give Ken and Carol a few more hours together before they
would be "found."

"You should have brought them back with you,"
Meade muttered.

"We could go back now and get them," Eliot said.

Meade looked at his watch and shrugged. Then he talked to
his man in Swahili and turned back to Eliot.

"Six of one," Meade said. "We think we can get
it fixed before too long. An hour at most."

He poked his head under the hood again and started
clanking, his man beside him. A moment later he poked his head up again.

"Mrs. Butterfield know her location?" he asked.

"She's okay on lore. Bad on direction," Eliot
answered cautiously. In general, it was the truth.

Meade surveyed the horizon, studying the animals. He could
read any danger by their mood. After he finished his hard look, he turned to
the man again and they exchanged words in Swahili.

"Says he heard that damned rogue elephant before dawn.
But not since." Meade shrugged. "It's a long shot. But these bulls
can cover lots of ground. Nasty temper, they have, especially if you make any
move to approach them. Then they'll sooner charge as look at you."

"Carol would know how to handle it," Eliot said,
his words belying his true feelings. The fact was that a rogue elephant could
not be handled, although he was less likely to charge someone who remained
still and ignored his carryings on.

"It's a needless risk," Meade said.
"Ultimately I'm responsible."

"You did say long shot," Eliot reminded him.

"Let's get this bugger on the road," Meade
growled, ducking his head into the motor works again. The clanking sounded like
an endless discordant symphony. Meade and his man appeared to be accelerating
their pace.

Maggie and Eliot moved a few yards away to get into the
shade of an acacia tree and squatted down, their backs leaning against the
trunk.

"I hope one of us is not worried," Maggie said.

"Then it must be you, because I am." Eliot paused
and squinted into the distance. "Carol isn't as knowledgeable as I made
her out to be."

"I think we should go back and be with them,"
Maggie said.

Eliot wavered for a moment. No, he decided. He had gone
through too much trouble to create this situation.

"He's exaggerated the risk," he said.

They squatted silently, watching Meade and his man bang the
block into shape, pushing and sweating, resting briefly, wiping their faces. In
the distance clouds were gathering.

"I'm having dark thoughts again, Eliot," Maggie
said suddenly.

"I know," Eliot said. His own thoughts had also
taken a dark turn. Hadn't he, after all, willed them away in his mind,
fantasized their demise? He searched himself for any feelings of guilt and
found none, for which he was thankful. "Considering the circumstances,
Maggie," Eliot continued, "it's perfectly natural."

"Natural?"

"What I'm saying is that we don't mean it to really
happen. It's not even an option since it's totally out of our control. Isn't
it?"

She did not answer him, but her eyes met his. He looked
into them deeply.

"Yes," she said. "Completely out of our
control."

But she did not turn away.

KEN WOKE WITH a start and looked at his watch.

"Mother of God," he cried, shaking Carol awake.

She was nestled in his arms. They had made love just inside
the perimeter of the copse but a good ten minutes' walk from where Eliot and
Maggie had left them.

The idea was to move to a place from where they could view
the egress to that spot in the copse marked by the fallen tree and yet to be
hidden while they waited.

They had found this perfect spot where they had made love,
and then, despite their pledge to the contrary, had fallen asleep.

"They could have been and gone," Carol suggested,
although Ken thought that unlikely.

"Surely we would have heard them," Ken said.
"No way they would approach silently. Then they would have called
out."

Carol looked at her watch. More than five hours had passed
since Eliot and Maggie had gone.

"Maybe the van hasn't been fixed yet," Ken
speculated.

"Or they're really lost."

"That's two not-so-good possibilities," Ken said.
He had meant to keep his real and growing worries to himself, then had silently
reneged. No lies between us. No disguises and dissimulation. The fact was that
he was anxious.

"Maybe they did come and ... well, saw us making
love," Carol said.

"That's a third not-so-good possibility."

"And highly unlikely unless they sneaked up on us,
which is doubtful."

They stood up, adjusted and brushed off their clothes, and
backtracked to where they had been originally. There was no problem finding the
fallen tree. The sun had arced toward the west by then, throwing the area into
shadows.

"You think we should strike out for ourselves?"
Ken asked.

"I've been warned about that," Carol said.
"Experts suggest staying put. A great deal of this country looks
alike."

"But if Eliot and Maggie are lost, then we're lost as
well. And if Meade's van is still out, we're up shit's creek without a
paddle."

"Above all, we must not panic," Carol warned.
"In such a situation panic is just as dangerous."

"All right, then, let's put it in a good-news-bad-news
context," Ken said. Talking about it was making him feel better.
"Quite by accident, we've thrown them together. That, after all, was the intention.
Maybe they've found true love or got turned on or..." He paused.
"Whatever."

"Don't be ominous," Carol snapped.

"Nervous banter," Ken said. The idea had thrown a
strange sense of elation into his thoughts, which he tried, half successfully,
to shoo away. But it did bring up the matter of danger, despite Eliot's earlier
assurances. After all, this was a primitive wilderness. There were lots of
predatory animals out there who did not conform to any schedules but the rhythm
of their appetites. "Fact is, I'd feel a lot better if I knew exactly
where we were in relation to our camp."

He concentrated on that thought, trying to summon up a
picture of the landscape surrounding the camp, the direction of any landmarks
that lingered in memory, and the position of the sun as it rose and set. He
conveyed the idea to Carol, who thought about it, closing her eyes to
concentrate the picture in her mind. She was the first to make an observation.

She stood near the fallen log and spread her arms.

"The mess tent was open to the north. The sun rose on
my right hand and set on my left hand."

"There you go."

"Which means that the camp is in that direction."
She pointed with her right arm. "More or less."

They did the same exercise to determine the position of the
van, recalling how they had ridden a short distance into the orange sunrise. It
was, Ken knew, a primitive calculation, but a good starting point.

"Chances are, then, that the van would come from that
direction," Ken said, pointing vaguely in an easterly direction. Looking
up, he noted that the arc of the sun was dropping toward what had to be the
west. "We should at least move into the plain and keep this spot in our
sights."

He had paid little attention to where they were going when
Eliot was leading them.

"As long as we don't stray too far," Carol said.
"At least he knows where he last saw us. It's really not like Eliot to get
lost. He knows this land."

Again the unthinkable crossed Ken's thoughts and again he
tried to push it away.

"How would Meade react if his van stayed broken and
Eliot didn't show?" Ken asked.

"Sounds like panic," Carol said, studying him.

"It's not."

Her eyes opened like saucers and he detected a slight
tremor of her lips.

"Why lie to ourselves? The possibility exists."

She seemed to reflect for a moment and the tremors stopped
abruptly.

"In that case, he'd send the boys out on foot. They
know the Samburu well. They're Meade's boys from his hunting days and are
superb trackers."

"Well, then, we should get out into the open and give
them tracks."

"Eliot went in the direction of a rise so that he
could see the surrounding area," Carol said.

"That wouldn't qualify as straying if we kept this
place in view."

He started back over the animal trail they had followed
into the copse, and in a half hour they were once again into the vast plain.
For a moment, Ken studied the topography, looking for the nearest high point.
They were actually in a saucer and he found himself having difficulty choosing
which high ground to head for.

"There first," he said finally, pointing. He
struck out strongly and Carol followed without objection. It took them another
half hour to arrive at the spot he had chosen.

Reaching it, they looked out over the plain. Through his
binoculars, he could see the various herds, predominantly zebras, gazelles, and
impalas, but there was no sign of Meade's van. Behind him, he could still see
the tree-studded thicket that marked where they had just come from.

"Nothing," he said, letting his binoculars hang
from the leather ribbon around his neck. Ken studied the sky and the position
of the sun, estimating that the sun would begin its descent in a couple of
hours. "Now there." He pointed to another high spot across the plain
and started downhill, the stand of trees still in their sights.

As they crossed the plain they passed within yards of a
pair of hyenas tearing apart what was left of a zebra's carcass.

"With their bellies full, they won't bother us,"
Carol said. The hyenas, their mouths bloody and their bellies distended, looked
up for a moment to watch them before going back to their feast.

"I'd feel a lot safer with a gun," Ken muttered,
although he had never shot a gun in his life. "In Hemingway's time, they
would have guns at the ready, both for the hunt and for protection."

They reached the other rise and once again Ken surveyed the
surrounding landscape with his binoculars.

"
Nada
," he said, looking back to their
landmark.

He noted, too, the blanket of silence that hung over
everything. The animals seemed especially silent. He also noted that the clouds
had formed a large thunderhead to the east.

"Looks like a storm is brewing," Carol said.

"A big one?" Ken asked.

"It will make a racket and get us soaked," Carol
said. "If Meade doesn't find us by then, he'll have a fit."

"He's probably already having one."

"As long as he doesn't have a drink," Carol said.
"Maggie was a fool to encourage him like that last night. It almost seemed
as if she was encouraging him deliberately."

That hadn't occurred to him before. Maggie, like the rest
of them, had been warned of Meade's problems with alcohol. Surely she had seen
that she was encouraging him toward greater drunkenness.

"Maybe she didn't realize what was happening,"
Ken said.

"She'd have to be blind."

He noted that there was another rise across the plain with
yet another vantage, which would be their last observation point from which
they could still see the stand of trees where they had been.

"Game?" he asked her.

"Why not?" she said, smiling. "We've gone
this far together."

Ken reached out and gathered her in, kissing her deeply on
the lips. When they parted, he looked up at the sky.

"I'm not afraid," he said.

"Nor am I," Carol said. "Not with you."

He surveyed the surrounding area and the storm clouds
approaching.

"I think daylight is our top priority," Ken said.

"I agree," she said.

They started down the rise into the saucer, then crossed
the flat. The herds of animals seemed to be thickening and there was also the
sense of movement, as if the animals had become suddenly alerted.

"Something is happening," he told her.

"I'm afraid so."

"What?"

"Some lioness looking for the pride's supper, I
suppose," Carol said.

"Hope it won't be us," he said, offering a
chuckle.

"We'd be their last desperate choice," Carol
said.

By the time they reached the high point at the other end,
the light had changed and the sun was descending rapidly. To the east the
clouds were building. They would definitely have rain.

Ken surveyed the surrounding area with his binoculars.
Nothing familiar. An untracked land. Like life, he thought suddenly, feeling
the exhilaration of facing the unknown, perhaps death. From this perspective,
he could understand the haunting beauty of this massive land, the hypnotic
spell it cast on visitors. Above all, he could feel the high that came from the
sense of unpredictability and danger that lurked here.

"Fantastic," he whispered, turning to face Carol,
this woman whom he loved, truly loved. What is all this business of money and
ease and security against the grandeur of this? And their love, in which there
was nobility and danger as well.

He looked up at the threatening sky and gripped her hand,
pointing with the other.

"That's the way," he said, sensing a renewal of
his strength and decisiveness as a man, as if he had found some lost part of
himself here, the essence of his manhood.

"Are you sure?" Carol asked.

"Nothing's sure," Ken said, turning to look at
her. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her long and deeply. "Except
us," he whispered when they parted.

Then he took her hand and led her forward.