Savage Lands (8 page)

“What are they doing?” Jane asked Edward. Robbie recognized her tone; it was enthusiastic interest with a hint of flirting—exactly what she employed when she wanted her own way.

Edward had obviously forgotten how curt she had been before and returned her smile.
Sucker,
Robbie thought.

“They're washing the mud away so they can reach the heavier coltan beneath.”

“So they don't actually mine it?”

“Not in the way you think. Coltan is found close to the surface. Here, all you have to do is sluice the mud away and you can retrieve it. The bulldozers help shift the surface mud off, but it's still a very labour-intensive process.”

“I guess the pygmies make a lot from doing this?”

Edward shrugged. “We pay them one hundred and fifty dollars.”

“A hundred-fifty bucks a day?” asked Robbie incredulously. He suddenly thought he was in the wrong line of work.

Edward laughed dismissively. “Per month.” He caught Jane's horrified expression and added, “Most Congolese earn about ten dollars a month.”

They reached the far end of the walkway and Edward took a detour that led to a large steel hopper brimming with unremarkable black stone, forming chips no bigger than gravel. Edward smiled and scooped the ore into his palm.

“Columbite-tantalite. Or coltan to you and me. It's currently selling at two hundred and thirty dollars a kilo. Sometimes the market can push it up as high as six hundred.”

“You must be proud,” said Jane, although Edward failed to detect her caustic tone.

Edward slowly poured the coltan from his palm. “Of course. We're out here helping technology push forward. Without this, civilization as we know it would be unable to function. We'd be back to Victorian engineering—no computers, no TV, nothing.” He carefully wiped his hand, making certain every last grain fell back into the hopper, then nodded toward a close-by cabin. “Lord Greystoke wanted you to make yourselves comfortable in here.”

The cabin was large and empty, lined with picnic-style benches to form a utilitarian canteen for the staff. The shutters to the kitchen were down and several dirty windows cast mottled light into the room, adding to the depressed atmosphere.

Edward hung at the door as Robbie and Jane entered. “I'll be back soon. I'm sure Lord Greystoke will conclude his business swiftly.” He closed the door.

Jane let out a long sigh as she leaned against a table. “This is crazy! What are we going to do?”

“Why should we do anything? If Clark wants to lead them toward a volcano, good for him. I vote we head back to camp, contact Tarzan, and tell him to keep his head down.”

“You don't get it, do you?” said Jane, exasperated. “The volcano is where Tarzan took his family. That's where the new feeding grounds are, and now we're gonna lead Sir Stuck-up right to them!”

Robbie peered through the window. He couldn't see much due to the thick grime coating it, just Edward's receding back as he crossed the walkway.

“Greystoke said he wasn't really interested in Tarzan,” said Robbie thoughtfully. “I don't trust that Edward guy,” he added as he lost sight of the man.

“He's a slimeball, just like Greystoke. And I don't believe a word Greystoke said either. His dad was desperate to find Tarzan. He paid Rokoff to hunt him down—so why wouldn't he be as ruthless?”

“I don't know,” muttered Robbie distractedly. He was still peering through the window. Something didn't feel right, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Jane continued. “Look at what they've done to this place. Do you think if they find this city they'd be interested in its archeological value? Oh sure, that Werper probably is—but he's in for a shock when it gets bulldozed down for coltan.”

“Greystoke was keen to get rid of us.”

“Of course. He knows we won't agree to help him and that we'll try to put Clark and Dad off.”

Something nagged at the back of Robbie's mind, an idea to which he couldn't quite latch on. A look Greystoke gave him, an offhand comment that sounded wrong. “He probably thinks we'd sabotage the expedition.”

“Exactly,” said Jane.

Then it hit Robbie, the idea that had been bothering him. “Exactly. Why would he want us around?” His mind was racing. He suddenly remembered Greystoke had used Clark's legal name, a name he'd long since dropped. Greystoke had done his research. On all of them.

Jane looked puzzled. “You think he's going to try and send us back to the camp?”

Robbie caught sight of movement through the window. Edward was returning with another man. He tried to wipe the glass for a clearer view, but the dirt was on the outside. “He knows that wouldn't work. He knows we'd warn Tarzan.”

Jane shrugged. “So what can he do? Hold us hostage?” Even as she said the words the reality of the statement sank in.

“Worse,” muttered Robbie as the door to the canteen opened and Edward walked back inside with a man in his fifties. The man's red sunburn indicated he hadn't had time to acclimate to the tropics.

“Mr. Canler?” said the man with a grin that revealed a missing tooth. He spoke in a soft Midwestern accent. “You led me on a merry chase—up rivers, around Uganda… . But here we are.”

“Who are you?” asked Jane.

The man's eyes never left Robbie, and the smile never left his face. “You can call me Baxter. Private detective, although I prefer the term ‘bounty hunter.' Has a cooler ring to it, don't you think? I have an arrest warrant for you, Mr. Canler. You're wanted for murder in New York. And I'm here to bring you back home.”

B
y daybreak, Tarzan grew concerned for the female. She still had not awoken and her skin burned with a fever. He placed her in the shade offered by a small cave, and the Mangani sniffed at her, but otherwise gave her a wide berth. Except little Karnath, who warily approached. His trust in strangers had been stretched to breaking point after Nikolas Rokoff had abducted him, but still, the little ape mustered his courage and edged closer, gingerly poking the woman with a stick to elicit a response.

Tarzan kept one eye on the woman, the other on the dense jungle. He was anticipating a merciless Targarni reprisal, but none came. He pondered the strange woman who seemed to lead the Targarni. Who was she? Was she like him—raised in the wild? Or was she an outsider like Jane, who had come to love the jungle as much as he did? The thought of Goyad putting up with interference from a human confused Tarzan. There must be more to the underground city than he could fathom.

It was clear the female's condition was growing worse, despite the herbs that Tarzan had gathered that should ease such a fever. He started to feel a sense of responsibility; after all, he had saved her from death, so to have her die while in his care didn't seem right. Perhaps this was something Jane could help with. Tarzan might not know all the technology the loggers had, but he had seen enough to know there were some things beyond even his understanding. Besides, it had been too long since he had last seen Jane.

Tarzan was confident that a Targarni attack was not forthcoming. He left the unconscious female with the apes and sprinted for the trees. With one mighty leap he vaulted into the low-slung branches. The momentum spun him around higher and deeper into the jungle canopy.

• • •

I
t
was dawn, and events moved at a rapid pace. Baxter roughly grabbed Robbie and shoved him against the wall.

“Get off me!” growled Robbie. But before he could strike out, he felt steel snap around his wrists as Baxter deftly handcuffed him.

Jane tried to pull Baxter off, but the man was stronger than he looked and held her back, though not before she had delivered a stinging slap across his cheek.

“The warrant's for him only, but I dare say the judge would be interested in whoever was aiding him,” he snarled, rubbing his cheek.

Jane tensed, ready to strike again, but Robbie shook his head. “Don't, Jane. This isn't your fight.”

“Good boy,” said the private detective mockingly. “Just remember, being one step ahead don't make you any smarter than me, boy.” He dangled the handcuff keys tantalizingly in front of Robbie, and then slipped them into his pocket. He turned to Jane. “Any last words?”

“You're making a mistake,” Jane muttered, not taking her eyes off him.

Baxter hesitated. There was a hint of wild rage behind the girl's blue eyes. Something feral that unsettled him. He quickly composed himself and led Robbie to a secure room without another word.

• • •

J
ane
sat sullenly as Greystoke told Archie and Clark that Robbie was wanted in connection to the death of his sister and attempted murder of his stepfather. Archie was shocked and Clark admitted to having suspicions about the boy since he'd found him stowed away on the freighter that had brought the loggers to Africa. He'd never spoken up, believing that most people deserved a second chance.

Jane tried to tell them the truth. Robbie's younger sister, Sophie, had died of neglect under the hands of his drunken mother and abusive stepfather. Robbie had found her dead and attacked his stepfather, then fled America. Robbie had thought he'd accidentally killed his stepfather, but the burden of murder had been lifted from his shoulders when he discovered the man was still alive. However, his stepfather had twisted the facts and accused Robbie of murdering Sophie and attempting to murder him, neatly shifting the blame from himself and getting revenge in one fell swoop.

Archie and Clark found Jane's explanation dubious, although Clark was willing to give Robbie the benefit of the doubt and wanted to talk to him.

“I'm afraid that is not possible,” said Greystoke flatly.

“I don't see why not,” said Archie, keen to ease tensions now that a deal with Greystoke had been agreed upon.

“Because Mr. Canler is a liability,” said Greystoke. “I have given Baxter full authority to keep him here until I return. Then we will ship him to the United States—”

“You'll just keep him prisoner here?” Jane was aghast.

Greystoke waved his hand dismissively and continued. “Where he will face legal proceedings. And much better here than locked in some Congolese jail, don't you think?” He placed a hand on Jane's shoulder and smiled warmly. “Whatever you may think of me, I am no monster. He'll be treated well.”

Jane shucked him off. “It's rather strange that Baxter tracked him down here, isn't it? Here at your mine. Quite a coincidence.”

Greystoke's smile vanished so suddenly Jane wondered if she had imagined it. “I placed my life in the hands of that
accused
murderer, and he deliberately led us astray. I think your father would be relieved not to have his only daughter mix with such company.” He smiled as he turned to Archie. “Perhaps you should return to your camp and explain what has happened. They will be worried.”

Clark wagged his finger. “Now wait a second, pal. You ain't shipping us off just so we have to rely on your good word that you didn't find anythin' at Opar. Besides, it ain't like I'll be drawin' you a map, is it?”

“Very well, you come along and lead the way.” His eyes darted to Clark's injured leg. “I only hope you don't slow us down.” He turned to Archie. “And perhaps you could stay here with your daughter and await our return?”

Archie considered for a moment before nodding in agreement. Jane wanted to insist on going with them—but she couldn't leave Robbie to his fate. Already she was trying to concoct a plan to spring him from Greystoke's prison. It was times like this when she really needed Tarzan to show up. She hoped he wouldn't let her down now.

An hour later, Greystoke's safari was under way. Werper and Idra had spent most of the night putting together the equipment. It was more than they could carry alone, so six Mbuti pygmies had been enlisted as porters. Idra was apparently some kind of expedition expert and had packed food, a satellite phone, a pair of rafts, which could be inflated into rigid-hulled powerboats to navigate the endless jungle rivers, and several waterproof boxes filled with Werper's scientific gear.

Clark had asked why the helicopter or floatplane couldn't be used to take them the whole way; it would have been easier to identify the volcano from the air. Greystoke had explained that they were traveling beyond the chopper's range; plus, there was no likelihood of finding a clear patch of ground to which they could be airdropped even half the way. The plane had a longer range, but again there was no guarantee they could find a stretch of water safe enough to land on. Worst-case, the machines were on standby should they need to be airlifted out in a hurry—at least if they were on the ground they could clear a landing area or judge if a body of water had any unwelcome surprises just below the surface.

Archie put his arm around Jane's shoulder as Clark, Greystoke, Werper, Idra, and the six porters crossed the muddy mining site and disappeared into the jungle.

“I'm kinda glad we're not hacking our way through there,” said Archie with forced levity. “I've done enough jungle to last me a lifetime.”

Jane didn't say anything. She was hatching a plan to follow the group once she had freed Robbie.

• • •

A
lthough
Archie acted relaxed, Jane knew he was keeping a sharp eye on her. Edward hovered around, now flanked by two large Congolese security guards with unsmiling faces. Another was permanently positioned outside the cabin Robbie was housed in. Jane saw Baxter twice, no doubt eager not to stray too far from his payday. Freeing Robbie was going to be tougher than she had anticipated. The easiest approach was to wait until nightfall then sneak her way past the guard, but for every minute she wasted, Greystoke was a step closer to the Savage Lands, Tarzan, and potentially destroying the apes' home.

Several times, Jane thought she caught movement in the trees and her heart jumped with excitement, convinced it was Tarzan. But if the ape-man didn't show himself, it was for reasons she couldn't understand. The movement was becoming so frequent that she realized she'd probably been watching monkeys at play in the trees. The thought that Tarzan wasn't about to save the day made her more resolved than ever. It was up to her.

Toward lunchtime, the Mbuti workers stopped and took shelter in the canteen from the beating sun. Archie tried to cajole Jane into eating, but she refused. He knew better than to argue with her, so sat with Edward to eat. Baxter joined them, and soon the three men were talking animatedly.

This was her chance. The lone security guard sat outside the cabin, everybody else was distracted by their hungry bellies. She had to act now, but was still stuck for a plan. She had found a pair of bolt cutters she hoped could slice through Robbie's handcuffs, but they were useless against the security goon, who was almost twice her size. There was no way she could beat him in a fight. She looked around, desperate for something—anything—to reveal itself. Then she saw it, her weapon of choice.

Double-checking the coast was clear, Jane darted across the muddy site, almost losing her balance. She hid behind a bulldozer. Peering over the dirty yellow monstrosity to check that she hadn't been seen, she gripped the external handrails and hauled herself into the cab. Her foot slipped on the wide mud-slick caterpillar tracks, and—for one precarious moment—she was hanging from the cab, legs flailing. She regained her foothold and hoisted herself into the driver's seat. It bounced under her weight, a series of springs and tension cables designed to give the driver a smooth ride no matter what the terrain.

She had sat in the cab of the bulldozer at Karibu Mji many times, although she had been forbidden to drive it. It had been a rare place of solitude. Her hand found the seat adjustment control, which had been set up for the short stature of the Mbuti who had been driving. The key was in the ignition and she had watched Mr. David and the loggers drive their dozer so many times that she had a rough idea of what to do.

When Jane turned the key, the machine shuddered to life, black smoke spewing from the stack at the back of the cab as she revved the engine. She glanced through the grubby windshield and saw everybody was still inside eating, and not paying the slightest bit of attention to her. The sound of machinery at the mine was so common that nobody would question it.

She found the throttle lever on the right and slid it forward, the engine responding with a satisfying roar. This machine was much more advanced than the one back at camp, but the basic principles looked the same. Jane gripped the control lever and pushed forward—the machine moved without question. It gently rocked over the uneven terrain, but it felt more comfortable than most cars she had been in. The blade at the front of the dozer grazed the ground, which would only slow her down, so Jane pulled the right-hand joystick back to raise it and felt the machine spur on a little faster.

Still, nobody paid any attention to the bulldozer speeding toward them. Jane jogged the controls to the left, changing direction toward the cabin Robbie was in. Her thumb found the gear selector switch on the joystick and she moved up a gear, the dozer gaining pace. It was all automatic, so there was no messing with a clutch. In fact it was almost too late when she remembered the only pedal she needed was the decelerator, which served more as a brake.

She jogged the joystick to the left some more, lining up both the canteen and cabin in her sights. The guard looked up twice before thinking anything was amiss. Jane raised the bulldozer blade farther up and punched the horn when she was just yards away.

Now everybody turned to see the bulldozer veering toward them. She was relieved to see Archie move first, pulling Baxter to his feet as the bulldozer's blade slammed into the side and roof of the canteen. She didn't want to hurt anyone, just create a diversion. She could only imagine her father's complaints if he was hurt.

Inside, Jane barely felt a jolt as the dozer tore through the canteen's supporting wall—half outside, half inside. Workers fled as the caterpillar track flattened the tables they had been eating at. Wood groaned and the roof suddenly collapsed at an angle since there was one less wall to support it. Jane had noticed it was made from thin panels, designed to do nothing more than keep the rain out, so as it collapsed on the fleeing workers within, she hoped they wouldn't suffer anything more severe than a few bruises. But, if Tarzan had taught her anything, it was that only the wiliest survived.

Just fifteen feet ahead was the cabin with Robbie inside. She saw the guard pull a sidearm pistol—obviously following strict orders—and fire at her. She ducked, hitting the horn again and praying the stubborn guard would move aside in time.

The first bullet pinged off the blade; the second shattered the toughened windshield, spraying her with safety glass. Still crouched low, she couldn't see where she was going, but through the open side door she saw the guard leap into the mud to avoid being crushed. She reached for the horn again, but missed as the cab jolted when it struck the cabin. She only hoped Robbie had heard her coming.

The blade tore a chunk from the side of the cabin and the structure collapsed against the vehicle. Jane killed the engine, preventing the cabin from falling any further. Robbie had jumped into the far corner of what proved to be a supply room. He looked at her with wide eyes and for a moment Jane thought he was about to run from her. Then he burst into laughter.