Luana (14 page)

Trembling inwardly, he held it up to the distant light of the campfire. The light danced through it, transfigured, serviceable illumination turned to dazzling color that would shame the finest stained glass.

The reverse side had rougher edges and another five simple facets. Where the stone was chipped and not smooth, he found the final convincer. Quartz would also scratch glass, and a variety of it had a similar lemon hue. But no hunk of citrine had that unmistakable milky adamantine luster.

The chain was so much window dressing. The stone, the stone was a near-flawless yellow diamond. He had a pretty good idea of just what the stone would be worth on the open market. It would have to be recut, of course. That was no reflection on the fashioner of the necklace. The jewelers of Amsterdam had far better equipment than their fellow craftsmen of ancient Zimbabwe. The extra faceting would raise the value of the stone, not lower it.

Let’s see—four or maybe five hundred thousand. That would be enough to—

He remembered he was not alone.

“Does it please you?” asked Luana.

Barrett took a deep breath, slipped it into a pocket as casually as possible.

“It’s very attractive, Luana. Thank you.” Then someone made him furious by speaking with his voice, and without his permission. “It’s worth a great deal of money, Luana. You could live very well anywhere in the world for the rest of your life with what it would bring.”

From anyone else her reply would have sounded snobbish. From her it was perfectly natural.

“I’m not interested in the rest of the world. Not for now, anyway. You like it? Then I’m glad. It is yours.”

“Thank you, again, Luana.” He had his own voice back. “The place where you found it, where no one goes . . . are there more shiny things?”

“I did not see any,” she replied, thinking. “But I did not look for any more. I was swimming in the stream by the cliff, and saw it shining on the bottom.”

“Stream by a cliff?” echoed Barrett excitedly.

“Yes. You know the place, too?”

Barrett smiled. “Not yet. Could you,” he hardly dared ask the question, “could you take us there?” She looked uncertain.

“It is a long way and very hard.”

“We’ll struggle through somehow,” he pressed. “Can you take us?”

“If you want to go, George Barrett, I will take you.”

“Beautiful,” he told her, “terrific.” Of course, there wouldn’t be anything there. No telling where this amazing hunk of glass had come from. But, by God, it was something real! Not theory, not imagining, as solid a piece of dream as anyone could hope for, and he sure as hell was going to check it out.

“You are pleased,” she said.

“Yeah, Luana, I’m really pleased. Pleased no end.”

“Good,” and before he knew what was happening her arms were around his neck. “Then you must make love to me.” She started kissing him enthusiastically, if awkwardly.

“Wait a minute—Luana—” He backed up and tried to push her away. But those soft-looking arms were anything but.

“What is wrong, friend George? Is there something wrong with me?”

“No, Luana, it’s not that.” He ducked and weaved but couldn’t shake her loose. “Ouch!” He put a hand to his left ear. It came away daubed with red. Now he began to get angry.

“First of all, goddamnit, you don’t know what the hell you’re doing! I’m not one of your bloody cats! Second, I can’t make love to you.” He finally jerked free.

“Why not?” Her tone showed honest puzzlement.

“For one thing I’m not in the mood.” His hand went to his ear again. “Also, you’re just a bit too aggressive for my taste, and—”

“It’s because of her, isn’t it? It’s because of her!”

“Luana,” he began pleadingly, “Luana, believe me when I . . . Luana!”

She’d dashed past him into the camp. Oh mother, he thought, and pounded after her.

There was a scream from inside Isabel’s tent. Then yelling and confusion. Men tumbled out of their tents, some terrified, some trying to run and buckle their shorts at the same time, others with machetes in their hands and frantic eyes hunting unknown enemies. Barrett went straight to Isabel’s tent and yanked aside the door flap.

Her cot was overturned and the two of them were locked together on the floor, chicks-in-blankets.

Under normal circumstances, Luana would have beaten the other girl to a pulp in a few minutes. But Isabel, resisting with the strength of the utterly terrified, somehow managed to keep Luana at bay.

“Luana!” he shouted, coming quickly up behind them, “that’s not nice!” He grabbed her under the arms and hauled her bodily off Isabel.

“I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. I’m no damned speechmaker, and . . .”

Everything was suddenly upside down. It was followed by blackness and a suffocating heaviness. He flailed about wildly at the unknown smotherer, then relaxed. Murin’s voice was close, and reassuring.

“We’ll have you out in a minute, George. Take it easy.”

The clinging weight was gone and light once more filled the tent, reinforced by lantern fire. Two of the bearers continued to rearrange things.

Isabel sat to one side, unmindful of her state of attractive undress. She had both hands at her mouth and was panting heavily. Barrett rose slowly, painfully, and arched his back. There was a thumping bruise on the back of his neck.

“I’m a little disoriented,” he admitted, sitting down next to Isabel and putting an arm around her. “Did
you
see what happened?”

Her hands dropped to her lap and she looked uneasy.

“She threw you into the tent pole. Pretty hard. You went right into it and the whole tent came down on us. Are you . . .?”

“Fine, I’m fine. But what about you? She looked like she was trying to kill you.”

Isabel smiled faintly, shook her head. “No, not kill me, I think. Just trying to mess me up. But she was so mad she couldn’t see straight. George,” she asked earnestly, “what made her so mad?”

“Nothing at all. We’ll go into it some other time. You
sure
you’re okay?”

She rubbed at herself. “Couple of scratches, that’s all. It was a helluva way to wake up, though.”

Barrett grunted, suddenly looked around the restored tent.

“Mur, where is she?”

“Waiting outside,” the Breeded replied, somewhat surprisingly. He grinned. “I think she wants to make sure you’re not hurt. What’s between you two, anyway?”

“Why is everyone harping on that all of a sudden?” he said irritably. “Nothing, damnit!” He looked back at Isabel. “Wouldn’t help if you hid inside. You feel up to seeing her again?”

She smiled. “Sure.” Then she rubbed at the low neck of the filmy nightgown. As she did so, something small and shiny glinted there. Barrett blinked, nearly fell. She noticed his stare.

“Something wrong?” Then she grinned. “Nothing there you haven’t seen before.” She didn’t move when his hand dipped, raised the tiny chip of metal. It consisted of three coils of silver, a tip of a tail, and a hooded head. It was a charm, in the shape of a striking cobra.

“Where’d you get this?” he asked breathlessly. “How long have you had it?”

“Hey, slow down!” His interest startled her. “It’s only a little charm.” She fingered the object gently. “No, it’s more than that. I’ve had it since I was a baby. Put it on every night before I go to bed. My father gave it to me. Why? It’s not even real silver, George. George?”

He stood and left the tent. She hurried to follow.

Murin had sent the bearers back to their own tents, the excitement over. But Kobenene and Albright were there, a safe distance from Luana. Arms folded, she stood facing away from the tent, towards the campfire.

“See here, Barrett,” Albright began as the guide appeared, “what’s been going . . .”

“Shut up, Einstein.” Barrett put a hand on the scientist’s chest and shoved him out of the way. Kobenene jerked slightly, but that was all.

He put a hand on Luana’s shoulder and spun her around. She was so startled she didn’t resist. His hand went straight between her breasts, into the flimsy halter. When she stood you couldn’t see the small chain. It was dark with grime and exposure. So was the silver cobra.

“George Barrett,” she began, more in surprise than anger, “what—”

“Isabel!”

She walked over, eyeing Luana uneasily. He merely indicated the charm and said nothing, watching her. It was enough.

“Oh my God!” she gasped, taking a step back. He nodded knowingly.

“I might’ve guessed. Luana,” he said, turning back to her and gesturing at the silently watching Isabel, “say hello to an old friend. Your sister, I think.”

“Barrett,” sputtered Albright into the silence that followed, “you’re being preposterous!”

“Preposterous it is, Albright, but not me. Or maybe she’s not your sister, Isabel. Maybe she’s your cousin, hmmm, or just a good friend of the family?”

Luana was the most confused of any.

“Sister?”

Isabel looked at her but could say nothing. She tried several times, failed, and finally nodded violently. Luana sat down on the dark earth, slowly. She was thoroughly mixed up.

“And now,” said Barrett, walking over and gently taking Isabel’s hands from her face, “maybe you’d better tell me just what the hell’s going on, huh? I thought there was no one on that plane but your old man.”

“Isabel,” began Albright anxiously, “I think you should—”

“You keep out of this, bright boy,” Barrett warned.

Albright started to say something else, then turned abruptly and stomped back towards his tent. Kobenene trailed.

“My mother died when I was very small,” Isabel said softly. Then her voice got stronger. “Father never remarried, not formally. He’d been working a long time in Indonesia. He met this woman in Brunei, in Borneo. She claimed to be a princess of some sort. Others said she was just a very high-paid prostitute. Whatever her ancestry, she definitely had a—well—a reputation.

“Our family was very straight Especially my mother’s. Father’s parents weren’t exactly screaming liberals, either.” She smiled ruefully. “He put them in a very difficult position.

“Father was world famous and respected in his profession, and as a man. But in Peoria he’d made himself a pariah. Fortunately he wasn’t the party-going type, so he saved a lot of Illinois matrons a lot of embarrassment. From what I was told, you couldn’t imagine two more different people than my father and this woman. I’ve seen pictures of her. She . . . she was many things my natural mother wasn’t. Extraordinarily beautiful, for one thing. Exotic as hell.

“They never married, though they lived together openly. That sort of thing is a lot more acceptable now, but it wasn’t then. And for a man my father’s age to do so, with a woman half his, an Oriental, a non-Christian, well—” She shrugged.

“There’s more,” prompted Barrett.

“Anyhow, when he came to Africa to do his work, she came with him.” Isabel looked over at the silently listening Luana.

“They had a child—a girl. Both she and the woman were with him when they disappeared. It was naturally assumed they’d all been killed. Especially when they couldn’t even find the plane. My father’s parents and my mother’s were still alive at the time and they,” she paused bitterly, “they wanted to protect his memory, and hers. So whenever Father was mentioned, his . . . his concubine and their child were never discussed. It took me years to find out about it myself.” She sounded anxious.

“I would have told you, George, but there didn’t seem any need to!”

“Take it easy, Izzy. It’s all right.” Barrett tried to soothe her. “It wouldn’t have made any difference.” He looked over at Luana. “She
is
your sister, then.”

Isabel spoke slow and deliberate. “Her name is Lu-Ling Honeysuckle Hardi.” Luana gave a gasp, rose to her feet. Her eyes were wide. “Luana was a baby name, I guess.”

“It’s true! I remember . . . I remember another little girl.” Her brow twisted and when she spoke again it was a shout. “Bella! You’re Bella!”

“Yes.” Isabel took a couple of steps forward, her arms outstretched awkwardly. “Dear Lu-Ling . . .” Luana stepped back uncertainly.

“Lu-Ling is a dead name for a dead person. I am Luana, only.” She smiled sadly. “I cannot fight with you then, it seems. That does not mean I must love you, though.”

Isabel’s face lit up suddenly. “The plane!” she shouted. “Can you find my father’s . . .
our
father’s plane?” She was quivering with anticipation.

The great bird, old Uma had called it. And Wu, too.

“Is that all you have come all this way for? Yes, I can take you to it. It lies four days march from here and the journey is very, very hard.” She looked meaningfully over at Barrett. “It is not too far from a place where no one goes.”

Isabel looked puzzled. “What does she mean, George? ‘A place where no one goes’?”

“Probably nothing, Izzy. But you should be happy. Happy, hell, you should kiss your lucky you-know-what! Looks like you’re going to find your father’s papers after all. If there are any to find.”

“Yes, oh, yes! Dear Luana, I don’t know how to thank—” She started forward. Luana turned and ran. Vanished into the jungle. Isabel stopped, the words waiting to flood from her lips. Barrett put an arm around her, squeezed gently. They stared at the silent barrier of green, garbed in color of night and touched lightly here and there by the curious campfire light.

“She hates me, George. Why?”

Barrett considered. “She doesn’t really hate you, Izzy. It’s something else, and I don’t think she even knows what. Not yet, anyway.” He patted her lightly. “Come on, let’s put the rest of your tent back together.”

From another nearby tent Albright watched them disappear into Isabel’s. He slammed the flap closed—a more futile gesture would be difficult to imagine—and slumped worriedly onto his cot. The khaki-and-green roof was singularly uninstructive.

Kobenene lay across from him, watching his partner.

“Well, that pretty well tears it, doesn’t it?”

“Be quiet, you fat idiot!” the scientist growled. “I heard.” He was slamming his right fist into the opposite palm over and over. After indulging in a few minutes of this minor masochism he rolled over to stare at the big man.