Treasure of the Golden Cheetah (19 page)

Since he couldn’t turn back the wrath of the Chagga spirits, he would build a defense instead. He’d sacrifice to his own ancestors, calling on a long line of
mondo-mogos
to protect Jade. He wondered if he should try to call on some of her own protective spirits, the ones she called saints. There was one in particular, he recalled, that she invoked most often, a Saint Peter, and something that he carried.
A bait bucket!

But somehow, he didn’t think this man or any of the others would respond to the death of a goat. He’d once heard about the death of a special lamb from some missionaries, but he hadn’t understood what they meant. No, this kid goat was a good one and his ancestors would be mightily pleased. When he was done, Simba Jike might not be completely out of danger, but she would have a fighting chance.

“BEBE, YOU’RE GOING to have to accept my decision,” said Julian in a firm voice. “We’ve been over this already several times.”

“Graham told me that
she
,” Bebe said, pointing across the camp to Pearl, “was only going to be my body double for certain scenes. Now you’re telling me that she’s actually going to take my best role?” Her voice, controlled at first, rose in pitch. “You’re shooting
her
in this scene?”

“Graham approved this. I thought you knew that. But you still have a very dramatic part,” Julian said. “You’re the reincarnated lover. It’s a powerful role.”

The pair argued near Jade’s tent, away from the other actors. Since they probably didn’t know Jade had gone inside a few moments ago, she was reluctant to come out and embarrass them. Better, she thought, that they maintained their sense of privacy.
Not that they’ll have it much longer if they don’t keep their voices down.

Privacy!
That was almost amusing, considering this morning’s scene. Pearl’s gossamer costume left very little to the imagination, even with a well-placed fringed sash draped down the front, especially once she’d immersed herself in the Una River. When she’d emerged a moment later, the fabric pasted to her skin and nearly disappearing into it, Jade had wondered why she was the only one blushing. No one else seemed to think anything of it.

At least Harry hadn’t been there. Somehow that would have embarrassed Jade more than the other actors’ presence. But he’d left that morning to climb up higher to hunt. For some reason, their second-to-last goat, a kid, had disappeared. It left them short of meat. Jade had looked around for Jelani and, not finding him, had assumed he’d accompanied Harry as gun bearer.

“You wouldn’t be doing this if Graham was alive,” Bebe exclaimed. “It’s Cynthia’s fault. She hates me because she knows he loved me, not her. I was all ready for this scene.”

“Bebe, you’re getting hysterical,” said Julian. His voice was growing less controlled and would soon approach his usual dictatorial bellow if the actress didn’t watch herself. “I don’t know why you’re getting mad now, Bebe. I told Morris to tell you this a week ago.”

Jade had woken with one to begin with, feeling groggy. A good stout cup of coffee would have helped, but Muturi had overslept and only just gotten the cook fire started. Jade went to the spring and splashed icy cold water on her face to wake up, Biscuit at her side. The big cat didn’t seem to want to leave it either, not even when she’d set out the remains of last evening’s stew, which she’d tucked away for his breakfast. So she’d sat on a stump nearby while he ate and tried to figure out why she felt so awful. And while she thought, she watched the others.

The loud yawns told her that the entire camp had slept heavily, enough to make her suspicious. When she’d told Harry about it, he’d dismissed her notion that they’d been drugged.

“There’s nothing missing,” he’d said after a quick check of the storeroom. “We just had a trying day yesterday, that’s all.”

He’d been right about the trying day. He’d been wrong about nothing missing, but no one seemed to make too much of the absent kid goat.

“Something ate it,” Harry said.

“There’s no blood,” Jade countered.

“Something scared it then and it ran off.” He shrugged and flashed his toothy grin. “You worry too much,” he said, crooking a finger under Jade’s chin. Then he left camp, whistling.

She finally decided Harry was right and they’d just been overly tired from the hikes and from the distressing scene in the Chagga camp. The ones who hadn’t made the trip weren’t necessarily the earliest risers anyway.

She’d piled on an extra blanket, but for the life of her, she hadn’t been able to shake the bone-penetrating cold that had enveloped her again last night. Even when Biscuit had plopped down beside her it hadn’t helped. And when the blessed cup of coffee hadn’t appeared as planned, she’d resorted to the aspirin in her tent. Now she was stuck in here until either those two stopped arguing, or she decided she’d had enough and she let them know she could overhear them. At least Biscuit seemed content to nap at her feet while she waited.

“You can say Graham agreed to this all you want, but I don’t believe you. And my name had better appear on the screen before hers, and in bigger letters,” said Bebe. “I may have to watch that harlot do my scene now, but I refuse to take second billing to her. She’s not an actress. She’s a second-rate circus sideshow.”

“You have my word, Bebe. Now come on. I need to get your, er, her scene shot.”

Jade listened to a moment of silence while, she presumed, Bebe made her decision.

“I have your word, Rex?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want
that
,” said Bebe. “All right, but I want
my
scenes punched up.”

“Don’t get your drawers in an uproar, Bebe. Your part is still bigger than hers.”

Their voices diminished in volume as they walked away. Jade waited a discreet moment before she slipped from her tent, Biscuit at her heels. The actors had clustered on chairs near the set, eating sandwiches for lunch. Some were dressed in modern safari clothes. Others wore flannel bathrobes over their period costumes. The mix of old and new looked comical.

Jade wondered where their Nyamwezi men were and spied them standing by a tree. They were decked out in colorful striped kilts that looked rather Egyptian. Gaudy breastplates of shiny tin and bronze covered their muscular chests. One wore a tall helmet that Jade thought looked like an upside-down metal pot. The
panga
that they’d used on their arrival to slash away the undergrowth hung at his side.

“Ah, there you are, del Cameron,” said Julian. “I need that cat in my movie.”

Jade noticed his choice of words. Not “want” or “would like to have” but “need.” His tone suggested it was an order rather than a request.

“Why?”

Julian stared at her. “Why?” he repeated. “You heard that old Chagga man’s story. Menelik traveled with a cheetah. It’s vital to the picture. He’s already in the scene with that crazy native woman. I can’t just have him disappear from the story.”

Jade wrapped Biscuit’s lead around her hand.

“He won’t do anything dangerous. He’s a prop,” said Julian. “That’s all. I’ll pay you twenty dollars.”

“What can I do with American money out here?”

“It’s all I have except a bit of Tanganyikan coins. Exchange it when you get to Nairobi.”

“He won’t do anything dangerous,” Jade echoed.

“Cross my heart and—”

Jade flipped a hand in the air. “Spare me the histrionics, Mr. Julian. Put it in writing and make it fifty dollars, cash up front.”

“Done.” Julian pulled out his wallet and peeled off five ten-dollar bills. He handed them to Jade. “Morris!” he yelled.

His assistant, standing right next to him, jumped. “Write up a contract for Miss del Cameron authorizing me to put her cheetah in the picture.” He glanced over at Jade. “Put in a clause that the cat won’t do anything she deems dangerous.”

“Right away, Rex.” The harried assistant ran off to his tent and Jade soon heard the sound of clacking typewriter keys.

Jade pocketed the money
. That should keep Biscuit in chickens for a while.
Suddenly the picture seemed more interesting.
Wait till I tell Sam that Biscuit had his second role in a motion picture.
She thought about the cheetah’s first part in Sam’s movie, herding a zebra stallion. “Lunch is over,” declared Mr. Julian. “Everyone in their places for the next scene.”

Cynthia sat down by the camp table, fluffing her hair. “I’m ready. This is where I find that coffer that has my husband all worked up, and I open it and confront him, right?”

“No, Cynthia, I changed my mind. We’re shooting your scene later today. I want to get this scene first while it’s in my head. It’s where Menelik’s lover puts the necklace in the box.”

“But Conrad’s already in costume,” she replied.

“We don’t need him in this scene. I just want the lover and her maidservant. The sets are all made up.” He pivoted around. “Where is that woman?”

Jade assumed he meant Pearl, who’d gone to her tent once her wading scene was over.

The director looked at Jade. “What’s her name, that African woman we hired?”

“Do you mean Lwiza?”

“That’s her. Lwiza!” he bellowed.

The maid came from the house wearing her embroidered white dress and sandals.

“Ah, there you are. I need you in this scene,” said Julian.

Pearl emerged from her tent, no longer wearing the wet gown. This time she had on a pale blue linen robe wrapped around her chest, leaving her shoulders and arms bare. The ends of the fabric were tied under her bosom and hung down the front. While less sheer than the other gown, it still clung seductively to her curves.

Lwiza studied the effect for a moment, then shook her head. She hastened over to the actress and fussed with the arrangement, untying the knot and rewrapping one side so that it draped over one shoulder.

“Hey, I like that,” said Julian. “That’s good. It looks more exotic.”

“It is the right way,” Lwiza said with a shrug.

“I think it looked better the first way,” said McAvy.

“You would,” Julian said, “but
I
think the native’s got the knack. Just like she did with the men’s getup. So we’re going with it. Now take your places.” Using gestures and pantomime, he directed the Nyamwezi to stand stiffly at attention in the background.

Jade wondered what they thought of all this, but decided it was probably the easiest work they’d been hired for so far.

“Okay, Pearl, this is
your
scene now. Do it like I told you. You know that you’re going to lose your king, your love. You’re agitated. He’s going up the mountain to die. You want something of his to treasure. You’ve taken his royal pectoral from his tent and you’re going to hide it in your jewel box. Understand?” He pointed to the broad, jeweled collar that nearly resembled a breastplate in its size.

Pearl watched him from under heavy lashes and smiled. “I understand perfectly.” She shot a sidewise glance at Bebe, standing to her left, her arms folded across her chest.

“Good.” Julian turned to Lwiza. “All you have to do is stand here”—he pointed to a side table—“and look like a servant. When Miss Zagar asks for it, you bring her the jewel box and set it on the table.” He didn’t wait for her to reply. Instead he turned to Jade. “Put that cheetah there.” He pointed to a fringed rug in front by the table.

“Come on, Biscuit,” Jade coaxed. “Time to go to work.” She led the cheetah to the rug and unhooked his lead. “Lie down. Stay.” Biscuit stretched his long form out on the rug, half reclining, his great head and barrel chest upright, his forelegs extended.

“That’s fine. Now . . .” Mr. Julian stopped and studied the set. “Where’s the damn box?” he snapped.

Jade wondered how anyone could find anything among all the clutter of the set. The great tent, open in front, was festooned with hangings and pillows and incense burners. Large wooden props, cut and painted to look like giant urns, stood next to each of the Nyamwezi.

“Morris!” yelled the director. “Where’s my jewel coffer?”

Homerman ran out of his tent, a sheet of paper in his hand. “Here I am, Rex. I finished that contract for you.”

“Hang the contract,” shouted Julian. “I need that jewel box for this next scene. Why isn’t it on the table where it’s supposed to be?”

“I . . . I don’t know, Rex,” stammered Homerman. “I guess I don’t remember what—”

“Well, you’d better remember,” roared the director. “I can’t waste all day on your incompetence.”

“I swore I had it out already,” Homerman muttered. “I’ll go look for it, Rex.” He trotted off towards the house to search the supply room for the missing prop.

Jade pulled a pencil from her shirt pocket and handed it to the director. “Might as well sign this while we’re waiting, Mr. Julian,” she said. The director groused but he signed his name to the paper and handed it back to Jade.