Treasure of the Golden Cheetah (11 page)

Bebe took a step back and raised her chin a touch higher. “I beg your pardon,” she said icily. Then, pursing her lips, she seemed to think better of her words, pulled over a nearby chair, and sat down next to Jade. “I do apologize, Miss del Cameron—”

“Jade.”

Bebe smiled. “Very well, Jade. I think I was still reacting from that fright.” She chuckled softly. “In retrospect, I suppose it seems silly, doesn’t it? Taking fright from a sock puppet, but after that horrid night at the Muthaiga . . .” She covered her face with her hands. “Forgive me. It’s just too much to handle.” She sat up straighter and sniffed. “I loved Graham so much. And to think he died defending me . . .” She sobbed once and rose. “I think I need to be alone for a while.”

Jade wondered if she should follow when she heard a soft, purring laugh nearby. Pearl Zagar stepped into view. The woman walked with a slow, languid movement, accentuating her curvaceous build without the usual hip wiggle that Jade saw some women affect. Her riding breeches hugged her hips like a second skin, and her white linen blouse was unbuttoned down to her cleavage. “Poor dear,” Pearl said.

“Good morning, Miss Zagar,” Jade replied, wondering who Pearl meant.

“Please. Call me Pearl. And may I call you Jade? It would be nice to have another woman to talk to out here. One I don’t have to try to upstage, if you know what I mean.”

Jade nodded. “Have a seat. I seem to be holding court this morning.”

Pearl moved the other camp stool and sat down a few feet from Jade, facing her. “Jade,” she repeated. “What a seductive name. I wish I’d thought of it. Rather makes us the two gems of the camp, doesn’t it?”

Jade’s shoulders twitched in a brief chuckle. “I doubt many people would agree with you. At least as far as
I’m
concerned. I’m more frequently associated with annoying animals that people tend to shoot. You’re familiar with the term ‘varmint,’ aren’t you?”

“Hmmm. I suppose that is more in keeping with the image you’re cultivating,” Pearl said. When Jade arched her brows, the young actress shifted her position in the chair and added, “I wasn’t implying that you’re a phony, Jade. On the contrary. I think
you’re
the real deal. But maybe that’s why I usually find men so much more agreeable than women. They’re less deceptive about what
they
want from me.” She crossed her legs and leaned forward. “Tell me
your
story.”

“I’m not certain what you mean.” First names or not, Jade didn’t care to confide her life story to this woman. “I grew up on a ranch. I drove an ambulance during the war, I came to Africa afterwards, and I like it here.”

Pearl’s lips twitched in amusement. “Succinct. How did you happen to fall into our little party?”

Jade shrugged. “I write stories for
The Traveler
. I plan to write one on Kilimanjaro, so this job gives me a chance to see it
and
get paid for the trip.” She decided the best way to shift the conversation from herself was to redirect it to Pearl. “Tell me about your part in this movie.”

Pearl rolled her eyes, made more expressive by thickly applied mascara and carefully plucked brows. “
My
part!” She twisted her body in the seat, straining her blouse. “You’re looking at my part, if you catch my meaning. Rex didn’t think Bebe’s body was good enough anymore to play Menelik’s seductive lover. But our dearly departed producer was head over heels for her, so she got the role. Though,” she added, “I’m not sure she could have kept it.” Pearl’s lips twitched in a knowing smile. “One overhears things, you know. Trouble in paradise.”

Jade pondered this information. “I don’t understand what Mr. Julian didn’t like about Miss Malta’s figure. She’s very pretty.” She felt uncomfortable engaging in gossip, but she needed to understand what motivated these people.

Pearl’s lips twitched again. “Yes, she is rather well preserved for a woman her age.” When Jade didn’t prod her for details, she continued. “Bebe’s thirty if she’s a day, no matter what
Cinema
writes about her.” She snorted. “Bebe’s not even her real name. Not that most of us use ours. Who would want to see an actress named Prudence Schiffenstrasse? Not,” she hastened to add, “that she hasn’t had a fine career. She’s been in pictures since the start, but age doesn’t play on the screen. She just won’t admit it and accept the older roles like Cynthia has.”

“If I’m understanding you correctly,” said Jade, “they use you to play some of Miss Malta’s scenes, but don’t film your face?”

Pearl shrugged. “That about puts the bow on the box. Oh, I’ll wear the same wig. And our faces are not all that different when you get down to it. My eyes are a bit more hazel than brown, but that won’t show on the screen. Not with the stage makeup we’d wear and the softened blur of the lens.” She stretched like a sleepy house cat. “But I still might end up with the part of Menelik’s lover all for myself.”

Harry marched by on his way to Nakuru, and Pearl watched him intently. “Now,
that
is an intriguing man,” she said. “How well do you know him, Jade?”

“He’s a good safari leader,” she said. “Beyond that, I don’t want to know more.”

Pearl chuckled. “Hmm. I’d like to add him to my collection. I hear the natives call him Bwana Nyati. What does Nyati mean?”

“Buffalo.”

“Buffalo? For his, er,
prowess
, I suppose?”

“More likely for his thick skull,” said Jade.

They watched as the director and the cameramen set up the cameras by one cluster of tents. “Looks like Rex is ready to crank film,” Pearl said. She smiled. “Lovely talking with you, Jade. I’d better make my presence known, even if they don’t need me today. You never know, do you?”

Jade had met her share of cold, calculating women, but this one made her skin crawl. Was that what came from always being in the public eye? She thought about Sam’s film. He had cut and edited for two weeks, using the darkroom bungalow built by the Dunburys. Then they’d all congregated at the Theatre Royal to watch it. Sam had bribed the projectionist into letting him use the equipment late one night in return for a ride in Sam’s airplane.
African Dreams
was wonderful, and Maddy, a settler’s wife, came to life on the screen with warmth, courage, and beauty unalloyed with anything artificial. Jade stood and slipped her rifle over her shoulder. No, Maddy would not feel at home with these people.

A group of Chagga natives emerged from the nearby forest. Jade counted seven men, six with the more traditional leather or rusty-colored cloth wrapped about their waists. One wore castoff khaki shorts. Partially hidden back in the trees were several girls laden with baskets of produce. The man in the shorts, acting as leader, motioned for the others to wait. Then he strode confidently towards Harry. Jade joined him as they exchanged greetings in Swahili.

“This is Zakayo,” Harry told everyone. “He speaks Swahili pretty well in addition to the Chagga language, Machame, and a smattering of English, probably more than he admits. I hired him as an interpreter on my last trip. He duly noted our arrival and came back, bringing men with him to hire and some of the belles to sell us food. He’s trustworthy enough, although he drives a hard bargain.”

“We’ll need fruit and vegetables in a few days,” agreed Jade, “and I don’t relish making the trip back to Moshi often. Do you think we can buy more chickens? Biscuit alone will need at
least
one a day.”

“And an extra goat every now and then would be a good idea, too,” said Harry. “Hunting’s not all that easy here. Too much chance of hitting a passing native in the forest.”

“Hascombe!” shouted Julian. “Hire those men to be in the picture. I’ll want them here each morning, but I can’t guarantee what day I’ll actually use them.”

“As long as you’re paying them, they won’t mind sitting and waiting,” said Harry. “Something tells me they’re going to find this very entertaining. You might end up with the entire village coming in.”

“I don’t want the village,” Julian said. “Well, I do, but I’ll go there to film it. Arrange it for me. And make sure that interpreter is with us when we go.”

Harry touched his hat brim. “Yes, sir.” He turned back to Jade and muttered, “Blasted son of a cross-eyed mongoose. I feel like a ruddy butler.” He explained the situation to Zakayo, who listened with a growing smile as the remunerative possibilities dawned on him. The two dickered back and forth, bargaining for the men’s time.

“The men have much work to do in the village. Fields to clear, herds to protect,” Zakayo said, adding to the litany of improbable chores.

Jade knew that the women did the gardening work and children often tended the flocks. But it made a good story, and Harry, for his part, didn’t contradict the little man. In the end, they agreed on a daily wage for the men, as well as a higher one for Zakayo. After that, bargaining for food went relatively quickly.

“He’s agreed to a chicken a day unless we ask for more and a set price for every basket of vegetables and fruit. You should see to that,” Harry suggested, “considering the women will bring the produce in. Have the cook inspect it all first before you buy it.”

“What about your goat?”

“All taken care of,” said Harry. “He’ll—” Harry stopped abruptly as shouting reached them. “Now what!”

Jade listened to the two voices, trying to identify the speakers. “That’s Jelani,” she said, and took off at a run.

 

 

JELANI STOOD OUTSIDE Jade’s tent, feet apart, his arms folded across his chest. “No one enters Simba Jike’s tent,” he declared.

Lwiza stood facing him in an equally defiant pose, both her chin and her hand raised in front of Jelani’s face. The woman was two inches shorter than Jelani, but her posture made it painstakingly clear that she did not intend to back away meekly. “It is my duty to see to her tent,” she said. “As I see to the other women.”

“Stand down, you two,” said Jade. When neither of them shifted so much as an eyelash, she rephrased her order. “Stop it now!”

Their postures relaxed a fraction. Lwiza’s hand lowered till it was even with her waist. Jelani’s hands went to his hips. Both of them turned their heads a few degrees in order to see both Jade and each other.

“What is this
shauri
all about?” Jade demanded. She was uncomfortably aware of all eyes watching her. As in a pack of dogs or wolves, her status as a high-ranking animal would be determined by Jelani’s and Lwiza’s responses to her challenge. There was a time when Jade would have bet on Jelani’s reaction, but not anymore. Neither of them answered. “Jelani?”

The youth—a boy in her culture, an adult in his—turned towards her, his head high. He matched her for height now, but Jade didn’t care if he towered over her.

“This woman”—he jerked his chin in Lwiza’s direction—“was inside your tent. I pulled her out. When she would go back inside, I blocked the way.”

“Lwiza?” Jade asked, waiting for her version.

“I entered to repair? No, to smooth your cot,
bibi
. I am your maidservant, am I not?”

Jade smiled to soften her next words. “No, Lwiza. You are not. I do not need or want a maidservant. I thank you for wanting to tend to me. But you have enough duties as it is.”

Lwiza bowed and turned to leave. Jade let her go, but motioned for Jelani to sit down. With no prospects of anything entertaining, the Americans returned to their spots for their scene. Jade pulled up another folding camp chair and sat facing Jelani. She leaned forward, her forearms resting on her thighs, her hands clasped.

“Now, please tell me what this was about, Jelani,” Jade said in a soft voice to prevent further eavesdropping.

“That woman had no business in your tent, Simba Jike.”

“Isn’t that for me to determine, Jelani?” She sat back and crossed her legs, purposely adopting a more relaxed pose to put him at ease. From behind her, she heard Julian’s stentorian bellows for someone to bring him a chair. “I’m happy to see you again, but maybe it is time now for you to explain why you’re here.”

“My teacher told me to come. He placed a great task on my shoulders. I am here to protect you, Simba Jike.”

Jade shook her head. “I don’t understand. I’m not in any danger. These people,” she said, and waved her arm to the side, “are playactors. You’ve seen movies at the mission house before. They’ve only come here to make a movie. They aren’t even hunting. Their guns shoot blanks.”

Jelani’s gaze never left Jade’s face. He watched her with the look of a patient grown-up trying to convince a child of what was best. Jade noted the look. “Very well,” she said. “From what do I need protecting?”

“From danger.”

“I could use something a little more specific, Jelani. Is an animal stalking me? Are the Chagga going to attack? Is a German soldier still hiding here ready to fight the war?”

“My teacher does not know what form death is taking this time, Simba Jike. But he has seen its shadow hugging your trail. He would have come himself, but he is too old. So he sent me. I will guard you, but I will do more. I will use what he has taught me to hold back death.”

Jade sighed and examined her hands a moment while she decided just how to respond. “Jelani, I thank you very much. And I thank your teacher. It’s good to have people care for me. But I do not . . .” She stopped herself and tried again. “I would prefer not to wear any more of his potions or charms.”

“It protected you from the witch and his animals when you first came,” Jelani retorted.

It smelled to high heaven and kept everyone away
. She held that thought to herself. “I believe in your friendship, Jelani, but you must know that I don’t believe in your teacher’s magic.”

Jelani’s brows rose in puzzlement. “But I have heard you and other white people talk of such magic. Do you not say to each other, ‘I will pray for you’ when someone needs help?”

“Of course, but—”

“And you speak to the Maker and ask him to protect someone or to heal them.”