The Secret Rival
A Palmchat Islands Mystery - Short Story
Rachel Woods
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
The Silent Enemy Excerpt
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Also by Rachel Woods
About the Author ~ Rachel Woods
About the Publisher
1
Rural Malawi
“Vampires? Are you serious?” asked Matilda. “That’s why we have to leave? Because the villagers might think we’re vampires?”
“That’s what I heard,” said Francine. “That’s what I was told.”
“Is that true, Gus?” asked Matilda. “Are we leaving because the villagers think we’re vampires?”
Cursing under his breath, Gustave Stewart made sure his seatbelt was fastened securely as the Range Rover jostled them to and fro, making its way over the dusty, narrow unpaved road, marked by deep grooves from last week’s torrential rains.
Pausing before answering Matilda, Gus stared through the windshield. Ahead of them, the sun slowly sank behind the mountain, the hazy orb casting an eerie orange glow across the rural Malawian landscape.
A week ago, during an emergency meeting with the founder of Instruct-Africa, Wilhelm Weschenfelder, Gus had been informed that the staff and volunteers would have to leave the compound, which was located at the center of three rural Malawian villages. As the director of the foundation, Gus would be responsible for facilitating and organizing the evacuation.
Yesterday, Gus, the foundation’s assistant director, Matilda Ross, and the principal of the school, Francine Xarras, had been cleared to leave the compound. As the three essential staff members, they’d been required to remain until all non-essential personnel had been safely transported to the organization’s temporary lodging—a small boutique hotel in the capital.
As the sun sank lower, Gus thought about how to answer Matilda’s question, which annoyed him as much as she did. Gus should have known why they were leaving. He should have been told, he felt, given his position, but he had been given no other information besides the fact that all of the aid workers had to be evacuated from the compound within one week.
The message he’d received from Weschenfelder had been abrupt and succinct: Leave immediately without hesitation. Something was up, Gus suspected. But what? At first, he’d thought they had to leave because of an outbreak of Ebola.
Now he wondered if maybe the staff removal had to do with funding issues.
Weschenfelder’s family was as rich as Midas, but the parents were supposedly sick of his “teach the world, make it a better place” disposition. They wanted him to join the family business, which was oil and gas.
Rumor was the family planned to cut funding to his little volunteer project, which cost them a fortune because they had seen very few rewards. The family expected Weschenfelder to make contacts and help them secure oil leases in Nigeria, but the kid was an altruistic, anti-capitalist.
“Gus?” prompted Matilda, sitting directly behind their driver, on the rear bench seat.
“This business about vampires is nonsense,” said Gus, opting for an indirect response so as not to reveal his ignorance concerning the organization’s flight into the capital.
After some silence, Matilda asked, “Frannie, who told you about the vampire rumors?”
Gus groaned inwardly. Removing a cigarette from the breast pocket of his denim shirt, he held it between his fingers and longed for a match. He’d stopped smoking years ago, but sometimes the craving returned like a beast. Usually, he wanted a smoke when he was pissed off. And nothing annoyed him more than the two women in the back seat.
Francine answered, “One of the teachers’ aides, Judy Shenango, has a brother who’s a cop. He heard about the vampire rumors.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” said Matilda. “How could the villagers think vampires are real?”
“Witchcraft and voodoo abound in rural Africa,” said Francine, “Villagers are often superstitious. So yes, it’s possible they believe vampires are real.”
“Ridiculous rumors should not be spread,” warned Gus, turning in his seat to face the women. “We have a dozen much-needed volunteers that we don’t want to scare into leaving for good, so please don’t—”
“What’s going on up there?” asked Matilda. “Why are we stopping?”
“It looks like some sort of roadblock,” said Francine, craning her neck.
Gus faced the windshield. About thirty feet ahead, nearly a dozen villagers, all of them men, stood around the back of an old, faded pick-up. Dressed in American cast-offs, they wore dingy jeans and faded T-shirts. And several of them carried flaming torches. The fire was not uncommon. Villagers didn’t carry flashlights, and the sun was setting. Soon, it would be as black as death, and the flickering illumination would be necessary. Still, an unsettling unease slithered through Gus.
“Why would the road be blocked?” asked Matilda.
“Sometimes to catch criminals, fugitives,” said Francine.
Gus doubted it. This wasn’t a roadblock. More likely, it was a shakedown. Gus recalled the first “roadblock” he’d encountered in Nigeria, during his first trip to Africa, several years ago. The Nigerian police officer, casually holding an AK-47, had asked him to identify himself and provide a driver’s license. Then the cop had searched the trunk of his car, looking to make sure he had a fire extinguisher, a warning triangle, and other documentation, insurance, and a roadworthiness certificate. Having all those things, Gus had thought he’d be free to go on his way. He’d been wrong. The policeman had made mention of how hot the weather was and Gus discerned that the man wanted money to buy himself a drink.
“Can’t we go around them,” asked Matilda.
The driver shook his head. “Not a good idea,” he said, decreasing the SUV’s speed.
Matilda asked, “Why are we stopping?”
“I’ll be back,” said the driver, cutting the engine before he exited the vehicle.
Gus said, “Be prepared to pay a bribe.”
Matilda asked, “Will the driver negotiate for us?”
“A few US dollars from each of us should suffice,” said Gus, reaching for his small backpack, stored beneath the seat.
“Not so sure about that,” said Francine.
“Doesn’t seem as though the negotiations are going so well,” said Matilda.
Concerned by the worry in Matilda’s tone, Gus looked up.
Ahead, the village men made threatening advances
