Mackenzie Ford - The Clouds Beneath the Sun

“You think … you think this is a revenge attack?” said Russell quietly. His face was flushed, his freckles seeming to stand out more today.

“I do,” said Eleanor, setting down her mug on the table. “I wish it weren’t true but I fear that it is. Mutevu is a Maasai. He was around the table when Richard and you let slip what you had been doing in the burial ground. He may have overheard—and told the elders, who authorized him to … to do what he’s done.”

“I don’t believe it,” Russell said, still whispering. “If you’re right, it’s crazy, mad, sick. All we did was steal a few bones. You don’t slit someone’s throat for that.”

“Not in California perhaps,” replied Eleanor tartly. “Though there have been some pretty sick murders there, as I seem to recall.” She thrust her chin forward. “But let’s not run ahead of ourselves too much. The police will be here this morning, I must let the next of kin know, and the foundation that is sponsoring the dig. And I’ll call Jack; he’ll have some thoughts about this. There’ll be no work today, of course, but We’ll meet later, when it’s quieter, and the shock has worn off, to decide what to do.”

She looked at her watch. “Natalie, Christopher and Russell can cope here, I should say. I think you should go back to your tent and write an account of what you saw last night. Sign it and date it and I will then witness it. A fast, contemporary account will be much more impressive as evidence. Do you understand?”

Natalie nodded. She had been up for barely an hour and already she felt exhausted.

“Good.” Eleanor looked from Natalie to Christopher, her gaze lingering on Russell. “There’s a lot more I could say, but now is not the time.”

Eleanor, Natalie, Christopher, and Russell North stood halfway down the Kihara airstrip and waved as the Piper picked up speed, lurched forward, and began to raise a cloud of red-yellow dust behind it. The noise grew, the plane’s tail lifted, and just as it drew level with the waiting group, its wheels left the ground. A few eland grazing near the strip ran away from the noise.

Eleanor led the waving as Dr. Ndome, the coroner, in the pilot’s seat, waved back. The plane gained height, banked, and turned off, away from the sun, on a bearing for Nairobi. The foursome on the ground climbed into the Land Rover for the drive back to camp.

“Three planes in one day,” said Christopher. “I can’t remember the strip being so busy.”

It was true enough. The plane carrying the police and the coroner had been followed by another small plane carrying three journalists. Aggressive, skeptical men who had smoked too much, brought their own beer, and poked around for a few hours, then flown back to Nairobi to file their stories. No one had bothered to see them off. And, shortly after lunch, the air ambulance had arrived. The ambulance men had remained on the ground barely an hour before they had flown back to Nairobi with the body.

During the day everybody in the camp had been interviewed by the police, exact measurements had been made of the scene, a plaster cast made of a footprint of a Wellington boot found outside Richard Sutton’s tent, and endless photographs taken. The police had taken away Natalie’s written statement, though she had also been questioned closely by the most senior of the three police officers who had accompanied the coroner, and he had made a careful record of her answers. To cap it all, one of the other police officers had found a small piece of cloth snagged on one of the dead thorn bushes that formed the fence of the camp near Richard Sutton’s tent. It was part of Mutevu Ndekei’s apron.

For most of the way back to camp they drove in silence, each alone with his or her thoughts. But then Eleanor said, “I’ve informed the next of kin.” She rubbed her eyes. “That’s not something I’ve ever had to do before or want to do again. And I’ve told the foundation. I expect we’ll get reactions over the next few days. Maybe a visit.”

“It’s a pity we can’t release the news about the discoveries,” said Russell. “I mean, it’s something positive.”

Christopher, in the front passenger seat, next to his mother, turned swiftly to him in the backseat. “How can you say that? What have you got in your veins, Russell—ice?” He lowered his voice. “Someone’s just died, horribly. Choked on his own blood. It’s not a question of one press release or another.”

Natalie stared at him. She had never known Christopher to display so much emotion over anything.

“I’m sorry,” breathed Russell to the others after a pause. “I didn’t mean it in that way. Come on. I’m as upset as anyone. After all, I’m at risk too.”

“Yes,” said Eleanor, hissing the word. “I’ve been thinking about that. How do you feel, Russell? I mean, if this crime was committed for the reason we think it was, there is no question but that your life is also in danger. How do you want to manage the sleeping arrangements tonight?”

Russell craned forward. “What do you mean?”

They had almost reached the fence of acacia and sisal thorns that surrounded the camp.

“You have a handgun, I believe. But I think I should give you a better weapon for tonight. I’m not sure who else on the staff is Maasai. Also, I’ll make a show of handing over the gun at dinner, so everyone will know you’ve got it. That might make it safer. Do you know how to use a shotgun?”

He smiled nervously. “I guess. It’s a while since I used one.”

“Hmmm.” Eleanor cast her eye over the fencing as she drove into the camp through the gate. She was responsible for everything. “Here’s what We’ll do,” she said, reversing the Land Rover into its space. “I’ll show you how to fire it, and you can loose off a couple of rounds. The noise will be a warning too.” She switched off the engine and opened the door. “Natalie, you’d better sleep with me.”

“What? Why? What on earth for?” Natalie’s heart sank. What would happen to her late-night winding-down sessions?

“Security. Mutevu is still at large, so far as we know, and you are the only witness. I suppose you could be at risk, too.”

“No! Eleanor, you’re overreacting, surely?”

“It’s your first time here, Natalie. Trust my judgment. I know this part of the world and with independence not far off these are unsettled times. There’s been trouble even at a nurses’ training college, where they require their nurses to become nuns. Local Kenyans say that’s inappropriate now. Independence is affecting everything. No, you’d better sleep with me. For tonight anyway, until I work something out.”

Natalie looked across to Christopher for help but he just shrugged and banged shut his door. His mother was boss.

A woman ran forward. She was dressed in the same white overall that all the kitchen staff wore.

“Yes, Naiva, what is it?” said Eleanor, putting the keys of the vehicle in the glove compartment where the monkeys wouldn’t find them. “Has Mutevu been arrested?”

“No ma’am. But one of his rubber boots has been found. Masera was in Elephant Korongo this afternoon and he saw some baboons playing with it.” She paused, looking frightened. “It’s covered with blood.”

“Do you mind if we have a second nip?” Russell North lifted the whiskey flask off the small table in front of him. “What a day! I don’t want to live through a day like that again, not anytime soon.”

Natalie sat across the small table, as usual. The usual noises came from the jungle, quarrels and moans; the usual stars flickered silently overhead.

“No, go ahead. We broke our one-nip-a-night rule last night. Today certainly counts as a two-nip day.” She flashed a brief smile at Russell.