Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her begin to walk in his direction. Pretending not to notice, he redirected his attention to inspecting the luggage rack atop the Rover. It was then that he noticed it: A small transmitter about the size of an American dime had been attached to the bottom of his carry-on bag. Frowning, he climbed onto the Rover’s running board to take a closer look.
“Hi…” her voice reached him from below as he stretched to peel the small tracking device from the bag. Turning it over in his palm, he recognized its Chinese design. When he failed to respond, she continued, “Any idea how much longer before we reach the base camp?”
Glancing down, Corbett found himself staring into Ella’s eyes, a striking mixture of green and amber flecked with gold. It occurred to him that unlike the day before, she wasn’t wearing glasses. She smiled. Unable to help himself, he noticed her blouse was open to the third button. Forcing himself not to stare, he stepped off the running board and dropped to the ground beside her. So close he could smell the scent of her body wash. Self-consciously, he started to turn away.
“According to Gorka, we’ve still got a couple of hours,” he answered. “I’m guessing we should make it before sunset.”
“What’s that?” she asked indicating the dime-sized device in the palm of his hand.
“Nothing,” he lied. “Looks like an old customs sticker. Must have picked it up in Africa.”
“You were in Africa…? Where?”
“Last time was Nairobi. Working for USAID.”
“Kenya… really? Isn’t Nairobi in the south?” He nodded, impressed that she would know. To most people, Africa was nothing more than an amorphous collection of names on a map. “Did you ever get over to the Rift Valley? Olduvai Gorge…?”
“No. Not this trip. Olduvai is in Tanzania just across the border. This was strictly business. But I’ve been there before… on a research grant. Unforgettable.”
“Where everything began,” she smiled. “I’d give anything to go there.” When Corbett didn’t reply, she added: “Is it dangerous…?”
“Yes… and no,” he answered at last. “Compared to New York City say, or London? Definitely less chance of being mugged. But then, there are other considerations.”
“Like what?”
“Nothing you can’t handle. You just have to keep your eyes open,” he teased. “Try not to step on the crocodiles or the vipers or the scorpions…”
Intrigued, she laughed. “Now you’re trying to scare me.”
He liked the sound of her laughter. Was she flirting with him or was she really just interested in learning about the Rift? He tried to keep his ego in check.
“Just being honest. Fieldwork in Africa is not for the faint of heart. But as long as you pay attention and don’t do anything stupid, it all usually works out.” He nodded toward the last Land Rover. “Looks like time to go. Better mount up.”
“Right. But I’d love to hear more about the Rift. Maybe once we’re settled in.”
“Let’s see how the work goes,” he said trying not to commit to anything he might regret. “Once we have things under control, I’m sure there will be time to talk.”
“See you up there.” She smiled and turned away. Watching her move off toward the other interns, he returned his attention to the bug in the palm of his hand.
“Set to go,” Gorka smiled holding up the pouches of tobacco and papers.
Moving around the Rover, Corbett took the tiny tracking device and pressed it hard against the side of the gas pump. Affixed by its adhesive backing, the transmitter stuck to the metal housing.
“Let’s get moving. I want to be there before dark,” Corbett said, climbing back into the Land Rover. Gorka slipped behind the wheel.
“Pretty girl,” the old man observed with a sly grin as he started the engine. Instantly, the Rover roared to life.
“Girl…?” Corbett attempted to sound disinterested.
Gorka tugged at the gray in his hair and shrugged. He looked at Corbett with a broad smile. “Maybe I have snow on roof, but still fire in the furnace, yes?” He laughed as he dropped the Rover into gear and stepped on the accelerator.
*****
The convoy rolled out once more and headed for the higher elevations. Corbett stared at the passing landscape. Out of nowhere, the uninvited memory of Jon Alesander’s body lying dead in the mud flashed once more through his mind triggering a sense of guilt and self-deprecation. With effort, he attempted to drive these thoughts from his mind without success.
Jon’s death in Nairobi’s Kibera slum had occurred three years before during an attempted exfiltration of a Chinese defector named Xi Lin. As a cover for the operation, Langley had secured Corbett a position as consultant on a dig being run by the National Geographic Society just across the Tanzanian border in Olduvai Gorge. Alesander had gone in undercover as a freelance photographer for the magazine Nature. The assignment had been pretty straightforward. Make contact with the subject. Establish the route for removal. Triple-check everything. Leave nothing to chance. And then, when all was in readiness, move with speed and precision. What could go wrong?
And then the rioting broke out.
Random details cluttered Corbett’s mind. Moments of havoc, confusion and pain. He could still remember the motorcycle propped against the red adobe wall just to the right of the broken screen door of the safe house. The echo of gunfire coming from somewhere in the next block,
