Chapter Five
No Ordinary Voyage
Traveling with a child was never an easy task, or so I’d always been told. By the end of the next day, I felt that I could safely confirm that particular statement. I could not imagine what some parents went through, for I knew that Ashley was a good little traveler and mature beyond her years.
Even so, getting us to Africa was no easy feat, I reflected later the next day. Our encounter with Officer Jones and his men the night before was a shock that was hard to overcome. Although to my way of thinking, the events of the previous night really shouldn’t have come as a surprise. I was getting used to being the hunted. But one look at my daughter reminded me that I had to stay strong. There was always a way out and I made a silent promise to her that I would find that way. The decision to take her back to Terlain was not one that was made lightly, even if I had felt—for a long time anyway—that Terlain was where I wanted to be. And it seemed that every step I took tied me to that strange place even more, invisible silken threads that twisted and turned and pulled until the moment was upon me. That it had all led to this moment. To Terlain.
Yet the logical part of my brain insisted it had been sheer luck that we’d escaped with our lives the first time around. I briefly wondered if we were crazy for going back. What’s done is done, I reminded myself as I watched Ashley sleep in our hotel room. We had arrived in Zaire only hours before, thrust into the middle of heat and light and the dust.
I was still counting my lucky stars that we had managed to escape the previous night with—for the most part—everything we needed. I considered us extremely fortunate to have not only my purse and our passports, but also cash, credit cards, and a weapon. Truth be told, I was doubly thankful for the weapon.
We had driven early into the morning, arriving at the congested, overcrowded airport just after daybreak. Our good fortune had further held when I’d found a private pilot, albeit a shady-looking one who appeared to be in his mid-forties and wore darkly tinted glasses, and arranged for him to fly us to Zaire. The rate was reasonable and he had not asked too many questions. I’d found him skulking around the outskirts of the airport, schlepping his pilot services for cash, and I had the feeling that he wouldn’t have welcomed prying questions any more than I would have at that particular moment. No matter. It was what I had been hoping for all through the long, desperate night, and was probably the best option that we’d had available to us. I hadn’t wanted the hassle that would have gone hand-in-hand with a commercial flight, not to mention booking a flight with the airline would have left a paper trail.
A record of our activities was the last thing I wanted to leave behind. Although it was inevitable that we would eventually be tracked, it was always best not to blatantly invite trouble. Plus, we would need all the time we could get. In situations like this, every second truly counts, I thought with a hint of dread, remembering my first trip to Zaire, and the terrifying trek to the Cave of Shadows. I had been followed that night, deep into the cave, by John’s hired guns. The fact that people had been sent to kill me, had been paid to literally snuff out my life, still weighed heavily on my mind at times. I figured it to be a pretty normal reaction, though, all things considered. Who wouldn’t be a little on edge after something like that?
One of the many men who had been sent to trail me that night had caught up with me during the last leg of my journey, in the two-mile long tunnel that was too narrow to stand in. I remember crawling the duration of the confined space with fear and uncertainty dogging my every move. I was grabbed as soon as I had entered the chamber that housed the carvings and the hidden portal. John’s men could have nabbed me at any time that night, but following strict orders, they had waited and stalked and watched, holding off until I had led them to the cave and its elusive inner chamber. At that point, I was of no use to John Hanlen if I were dead. At least not before I had led him to the portal to Terlain and he had taken what he wanted from me. That would not be the case this time around, I reminded myself, resigned to the unfortunate fact. John was serving a prison sentence that meant he would likely live out at least the next twenty years of his life in a jail cell behind a set of thick steel bars. Terlain and its riches held no real value for him, not anymore. Sure it was always a possibility that one of his hired killers would have heard of the legend and realized the significance of our location, of what we had in our possession, but I was forced to admit that the scenario was highly unlikely. A more probable outcome would be something along the lines of me and Ashley taking a bullet behind the ear should we allow ourselves to be tracked and cornered. Maybe the key would even be hocked at some pawn shop for the equivalent of a new television and a case of beer, maybe a gold watch or a set of cuff links. Most likely, the man, or men, sent to do us in this time would have only been given the traditional fifty percent of their pay up front and one very simple set of instructions; kill us both and dispose of our bodies, which wouldn’t be all that hard to do in the African wilderness. We couldn’t afford to let anyone get close enough to get a shot at us. Period.
Even though it was unlikely, I knew that had we taken a flight through the airline, Lance Jones and the others who were after us could have traced us in a matter of minutes and been waiting when the plane touched down at Zaire International. We would have been cornered and defenseless.
Finding a hotel had been a cakewalk as well. I used a fake name and even paid in cash for good measure. We checked in at three twenty-five in the afternoon, and even as Ashley had protested being forced to take a nap, her eyes were closing. I knew the signs; she was on the verge of exhaustion and fighting it to the bitter end. I was near collapse myself, but didn’t dare close my eyes and go to sleep. The journey ahead of us would be long and physically taxing. I also knew that at some point Ashley would have questions about the night before and if I knew my daughter at all, I was banking on having to answer those questions sooner rather than later.
I drew the curtains tight against the window and gazed down at her sleeping form, long lashes resting against her heart-shaped face, her mouth curled into a tiny crescent-shaped bow. So peaceful; so still and not a care in the world. It was soothing to see her like that. Then I thought about how she had looked the previous night, and a sigh broke free at the memory of the fear and shadows that had played in her wide dark eyes. She had reacted swiftly, doing everything I’d asked of her. And while it was true that she wasn’t the average child, I knew her well enough to know that she had been terrified.
I stroked baby soft dark hair away from the smooth skin of her forehead and for the tenth time that day, wished like hell I didn’t have to take her on this journey with me. But there was no choice. Leaving her behind was definitely out of the question. She was not safe. For that matter, neither was I. I knew that, had accepted it even, but somehow, it still didn’t make it any easier. You see, survival was a way of life to Ashley. One that I had hoped to change for her.
“What’s past is past,” I muttered with a shake of my head, vowing not to dwell on things that I knew I didn’t have a shot in hell of doing anything about. At least, not right then. More importantly, there were other things, more pressing matters, that required my immediate attention, things that I actually had some control over, no matter how minuscule and fragile that control may have been.
As usual, there was little else to do but pick up the pieces and move on. I stretched and smothered a yawn, all the while wishing I could lie down and get some rest. The double bed looked both warm and inviting. I stood up and crossed to the small sink that sat at the edge of our room and made a fresh pot of coffee instead. We were set to leave that evening, and a quick glance at the wall clock told me there was a little over an hour left before I had to wake Ashley. We would take time to eat a quick dinner somewhere, but after that we would have to be on our way, I acknowledged with a sense of foreboding. Night would have fallen by then and we had a long way to travel.
Despite the fact that I still
remembered the way to the Cave of Shadows, it was still long, hard travel over increasingly rough terrain. Ashley was only six years old. I couldn’t very well expect her to make the entire fifteen-mile journey on foot. It was a sad fact, but she would have to be carried most of the way.
Once we reached the cave…well, I was trying not to think about that.