Page 64 of Murder Island

I saw them both blink. Then I felt something hard against my temple. A hand reached around and yanked the rifle away. A white hand.

“No trades.” His voice was in my ear. French accent. “We’ll take it all. The sword, the cash, and the truck.” He barked some orders in Swahili to the other two. “And the Mauser.” He tossed my rifle toward the Land Rover, way out of my reach.

I knew the pressure against my skull was from a pistol barrel. I could feel the guy’s bulk behind me. He wasn’t tall, but he was thick. I wondered how fast the other two were with their rifles. Then I remembered one of Kira’s lessons. Act weak, finish strong.

I sank to my knees. “Please!” I moaned. “You can’t leave me alone out here!” I felt the gun barrel slide off my head.

“Don’t worry,” said the guy behind me. He leaned around, far enough for me to see his ruddy face in my peripheral vision. “You’re on the savanna, and it’s about to be dark. You’ll have company soon enough.”

I dropped my head and felt for the tusk in the grass. I grabbed it with both hands. Then I whipped around with every ounce of strength I had. I heard a sound like an axe splitting a watermelon. When I looked up, the tusk was rammed through the guy’s mouth and poking out the back of his skull. I grabbed his pistol as it dropped.

The Black guys started to pull their rifles off their shoulders. Way too slow. I stepped forward and made a couple quick downward jerks with the pistol. They got the idea. Both of them dropped their rifles on the ground, then their machete scabbards, then their hunting knives. My cutlass and the open bag of money were lying on the hood of the Land Rover.

I used my basic Swahili again.“Nenda!”This time, they took the hint. They both turned around and started running, knees high, until they disappeared into the tall grass. The humane part of me hoped that they’d get back to their camp or their truck before dark. But when I thought about what they’d done to that poor elephant, I didn’t hope quite as hard.

I tucked the pistol into my pocket and tossed theMauser back into the truck. I grabbed both automatic rifles and slung a machete scabbard over one shoulder. I tried to imagine what my students back in Chicago would think if they saw me right now. They’d probably assume I was a big-game hunter or a homicidal maniac—or maybe a live-action role player from some video game.

The truth is, I looked exactly like Doc Savage. The OG. And I was afraid that I was starting to turn into him. I’d just killed a man with an elephant tusk.

But if that’s what it took to get Kira back, I’d do it again.

CHAPTER 78

THE SUN WAS directly overhead. Kira was on her hands and knees at the bottom of the mine, using her shovel to scrape loose dirt off yet another pile of rocks. It was hot, sweaty, endless work. And at the moment, she didn’t see a way out.

While her complexion could take a lot of sun, it was not meant for this kind of intensity for days on end, especially when the sun was directly overhead, shining down into a pit that concentrated the heat like an oven. Her pale skin was blistered, and her hands were raw from the constant digging. Each worker was allowed four bottles of water a day, barely enough to replace what they sweated away. Kira had already gone through most of her ration.

“This one, not that one.” The young woman named Vanda worked right next to her, helping her sort the valuable rocks from the junk. She had a good eye. Otherworkers, especially the children, stayed clear. Vanda said they still thought Kira possessed evil powers.

When they first met, Kira spoke to Vanda in Swahili. Then, word by word, she started teaching her English. In the beginning, the vocabulary was limited, like their world. “Rock.” “Water.” “Copper.” “Tired.”

And, of course, “baby.”

Once Vanda had enough English in her brain, she talked about her baby all the time, usually with tears streaming down her face. She also talked about how dangerous the mine was, how many other people had died there.

“This place means death,” she said. “I will die here, too.”

Kira wiped the sweat from her eyes. “No,” she said. “You won’t.”

Suddenly Vanda’s spade was blasted out of her hand. The handle shattered and flew away from the blade. A bullhorn crackled from above.“No talk. Just work.”

Kira jumped up to check Vanda’s wrist. It was grazed by the bullet, but not broken. Kira poured what was left of her water bottle over the wound. Vanda pulled away. She crawled to a wooden crate and pulled out another tool.

Kira pulled the broken handle of Vanda’s spade under her sleeve. She let Vanda see it, but nobody else. Then she hunched over and picked up two junk rocks. With small, quick movements, she started pounding and filing the three-inch metal prong.

The pit was a prison. And she was honing a shiv.

CHAPTER 79

LATE THAT NIGHT, the five giants from Belgium sat slumped on their cots in their sweltering barracks tent. It was too damn hot to sleep. A generator-powered fan blew air from one side of the tent to the other, but it wasn’t enough to dry the sweat from their bodies, even with their shirts off. And it didn’t deter the massive insects, which managed to dodge the currents to land on their backs and necks.

Blodgett wiped the damp dirt off his crew cut. “God, it stinks in here.”

“My ball sack is drippin’,” said Fenwick. His rough Scottish brogue somehow made the image even more visceral.

Marley reached into a Styrofoam cooler and pulled out a beer. He uncapped it with his teeth and drained it without stopping. White foam dribbled down over his dark skin. He tossed the empty out through the tent flap and wiped his chin. “When’s payday?” he asked.

“End of the month,” said Harper. “Ten days.”