What would it be like to see Sarah again? Could they make it work this time? All she knew for sure was that she had to try. Life without Sarah had been merely existence.
Sarah had gone off like a bombshell in Alex's life. She recalled when they'd met. She'd been shooting some pool at the back of Krazy Kate's, and sipping at her third beer. It had been hot as hell that day, and Alex had gone straight from class to work the afternoon shift at the construction site. She laid brick. She was good at it. Both her dad and granddad had been masons, and they'd been damn good when they were on the wagon. It was late at night, and
she was feeling a bit punchy with lack of sleep and not enough food to go with the beer.
Sarah had arrived with two other women. They'd been to a show and had stopped in for a nightcap. The other two were clearly a couple, and Sarah was obviously a newbie. The beer had got her over there. The aggression brought on by the heat had kept her going. "You wanna dance?" she'd asked, politely enough, she'd thought.
Sarah had looked up with eyes like a deer's in a pair of headlights. One of the other women looked concerned. "You don't have to, Sarah. If you don't feel like it you can just sit and have a beer with us."
Alex had let a slow, sexy smile spread across her face. "I never take advantage of a woman on the dance floor... I only give private lessons. Come on, newbie, you're safe."
The dark green eyes that she had looked down into had flashed with fire. "Oh, I'm not afraid. I'm just not sure dancing with you won't ruin my image."
"Only one way to find out," Alex had said with a grin as she offered Sarah her hand. The small hand that had slid into her strong, calloused one was soft and warm. It felt just right there, and Alex was surprised at the sudden shot of desire that dropped to the centre of her need. She had smiled and thought, play your cards right, Alex, and you 're going to have virgin for dinner tonight.
How wrong she had been. They had danced until Krazy Kate had thrown them out, and then Sarah had taken Alex to her apartment, cleaned her up, and made love to her until she thought her eyeballs would pop out with coming.
The next morning, they had sat in Sarah's sunny breakfast nook enjoying coffee and chocolate croissants. Alex was making an effort to develop some table manners, mimicking Sarah's actions with deep concentration. It was a second before she realized that Sarah was checking her out with a look that could only be interpreted as predatory.
"What?" Alex demanded, forgetting not to talk while she chewed.
"I'm going to marry you," Sarah said simply, and took a sip of coffee.
Alex's eyes had grown big with surprise, but she rallied quickly. "You're gonna have to do better than one night in the sack to get me to make a commitment, babe."
Sarah's answer had been to stand up and slip her housecoat off. Alex savoured the beautiful, muscular body as Sarah came around and mounted Alex's lap. She wrapped her arms around Alex, and the kiss that followed almost tickled Alex's toes. Slowly, Sarah worked her way under Alex's T-shirt and panties until she was eating Alex for breakfast. Alex took it for as long as she could and then slipped like a puddle to the floor, where Sarah used her fingers to take Alex screaming over the top and rushing down the other side. "Marriage is a possibility," Alex had managed to mutter after.
That had been a long time ago. After the first disastrous visit to Alex's family home, she had made up her mind that she would do everything she could to make Sarah proud and not let Sarah feel that she ever had to justify her love to anyone. Alex had done just that. She had not only excelled through her training but she had gone on to join one of the most prestigious medical associations in Vancouver, write a best seller on lifestyle and diet, join some of the best clubs, and cultivate an interest in the arts. Alex had thought that she had lived up to Sarah's trust and love in her. She knew they were going through a difficult time—couples did from time to time, but she was simply not prepared to come home and find Sarah gone. Three years later, she was still reeling from the impact.
Chapter 4
By late afternoon, Sarah was back at the camp. She had showered and given special attention to her inflamed shoulder. Then she'd dressed and walked over to the open-air bar of the camp and ordered a beer and a tomato juice, mixing the two together. Another habit she had picked up from Alex. Of course in those early days, Alex called it breakfast, not a nightcap. Three days from now, she would be meeting Alex at the airport. How did one meet a former lover? It was too unreal for words.
She remembered taking Alex home to meet her parents. Alex had worn a black muscle T-shirt and a pair of black jeans. Her hair was short and spiked, and attitude dripped from every pore. Her parents were wrestling gamely with the fact that their only child had picked a lesbian lover. They had tried to make conversation.
"So Alex, Sarah tells me that you want to be a doctor," her mom had said.
"I don't want. I am going to be," Alex had replied abruptly.
"What does your dad do?" Sarah's father had asked, letting his distaste for the whole situation start to show.
"Mostly he drinks. Sometimes he lays brick. I lay brick. And before you ask, 1 drink too." It had gone downhill from there, and they had left shortly after dinner. It had been their first real fight, and it had been a good one.
Sarah finished her drink and rolled her shoulder uncomfortably. The damn scratch was hurting like hell since she had cleaned it.
"You need a shoulder rub?" asked a voice behind her.
Sarah turned to see the tall, ageing figure of James Phillips. "No way. I hurt it the other day."
Phillips nodded. "Let me buy you another one of those disgusting mixes you drink. It's an abomination to beer lovers everywhere. I need to talk to you."
Sarah shrugged and then winced. She wasn't going to full asleep easily tonight anyway, the way her shoulder was aching. Another drink would be okay. "Sure. What's up?"
"That's what I need to know," Phillips said as he painted patterns with a bony finger in the condensation on the side of the glass the waiter had put in front of him. Sarah waited, enjoying the sound of the crickets and the rustle of the wind through the grass. The stars spread from horizon to horizon and seemed so bright and close that she felt she could pick them from the sky. "The bombing of the American Embassy some years back opened our eyes to a very real and dangerous fundamentalist movement in East Africa. We need to know how widespread it is. You have the trust of the local tribes. Do you hear anything?"
"I hear a lot of things. The reason they trust me is because I keep my mouth shut about it." Sarah smiled kindly as she spoke.
"Sarah, you know how serious this has become now, with the concern about Islamic terrorism. There's a lot of pressure being put on the government to get a pulse on how deeply certain fanatical groups might have infiltrated some of the communities in North Africa." Phillips sighed. "No country can ignore the threat of terrorism today, especially countries carrying large foreign debts."
"When Egypt called on the UN to hold a world forum on terrorism some years ago now, the US vetoed the idea," Sarah said. "The fear of terrorism wasn't so important then, when it was only third world countries feeling the pain."
Phillips sighed again. "The lack of foresight makes fools of us all, Sarah."
Sarah nodded. "Forgive me for being so difficult. I'm tired and my shoulder hurts. You're right. It was important to do something then, and it's more important to take action now. The Masai in this area are a law onto themselves. They don't easily accept ideas into their culture that are in conflict with their beliefs. Nor have they felt the impact of global warming and AIDS as much as other tribal groups have. Food, water, and land are still available here. AIDS has spread slower here than elsewhere, so villages are still bigger than graveyards. I don't see fundamentalists getting a strong foothold in this area—but in other areas of Kenya? You bet."
"You want to be more specific?" Phillips asked.
Sarah took a sip of her beer to give her time to organize her thoughts before going on. "Kenya has a significant population of poor, and it's growing. She has three borders that are under constant
stress. Look nt the countries around her: Somalia, Uganda, and Ethiopia. They are, or have been, household names in the human slaughter trade. Refugees have poured into Kenya, primarily to the cities, and they've brought a lot of hate, crime, sickness, and violence with them."
"Tell me something I don't know." Phillips smiled sadly, meeting Sarah's eyes.
Sarah considered her words carefully. "The Masai let their boys decide if they want to live a traditional life or go to a western school. Those that choose to get a European education often end up in the cities, but their roots and family are here. They're expected to come back and participate in the different rites of passage and to marry locally. When they return, they have often picked up the hates that breed in the slums of cites like Nairobi."
"Do you think we should be monitoring this area more closely?"
"I think European nations have been selling toys of war to African nations for years. The whole continent is a pile of guns and explosives. I don't think any monitoring in the world is going to do a damn bit of good. There could be a flash point anywhere, at anytime. There are very few stable areas left in Africa, and it's only going to get worse."
"1 was hoping to find the end of the fuse that's burning," Phillips said, before downing the last of his beer.
Sarah shook her head. "There are so many fuses burning I don't think it is going to be possible to snuff them all. All I can suggest to you is that you keep an eye on the local bar at Matarra. What I would consider high-risk individuals for trouble hang out there."
"Thanks, Sarah, I'll do that."
Sarah nodded and watched him leave.
Chapter 5
The trip to Africa had been anything but enjoyable. Alex had always found air travel difficult. Even in first class, there wasn't enough room for her long legs, and now, with the intense security checks and the worry that the strange looking individual across the aisle might be a terrorist, it had gone from uncomfortable to unpleasant. It was with relief that she unbuckled her safety belt in Nairobi, ran a comb through her thick, dark hair, and followed the others to the immigration area.
"Good day. You are staying how long in Kenya?" asked the officer, after Alex had handed over her passport and visa.
"Two weeks." Two weeks to try to revive a relationship that had been terminated so long ago.
"The nature of your stay is?"
"I'm here on a holiday, visiting a friend," she answered. Is that who Sarah was now, a friend? Someone from the past whom you meet and exchange histories with, only to discover you have nothing really in common anymore?
He stamped several pages and passed her documentation back. "Enjoy your stay," the officer said.
Alex moved on to the baggage pickup area. The relief she had felt earlier was quickly being replaced by something that felt a lot like panic as she stood watching the conveyor belt bounce luggage around in a circle. What the hell do you say to someone whom you've loved and lived with for nine years and haven't seen in three? How much had Sarah changed? What if she had a girlfriend?
Alex grabbed her bag as it came past on the conveyer belt and pulled out the handle on the wheeled luggage. Then, a few minutes later, she snagged a small, well-wrapped box of medical supplies that Sarah had requested that she bring for the local clinic and balanced it on top before heading over to Customs. The bored-looking cleric took her declaration card without a word and waved her through.
Alex came out through the arrival doors of BA Flight 518 from London and looked about uncertainly at the crowd of people gathered there.
"Hi Alex," said a familiar voice from beside her.
Alex turned and looked down. Sarah looked beautiful; well tanned, fit, and healthy. For a minute, the world around vanished and there was just Sarah. Then someone put his arm around Sarah, and the world came back into focus with a rush. Alex's dark eyes snapped up and made contact with an equally dark pair. "This is Paul Na-tana, Alex. He came along to help me. He works for the Kenyan Cultural office, like I do. He's stationed here in Nairobi. Paul, this is Alex Aubin."
"Hello, Paul," Alex managed to say evenly.
"Hi, Alex. I'll take your bags. We have a bit of a walk to the van." Paul smiled, a little too smugly for Alex's liking.
Alex relinquished the bags and gave her attention to Sarah, who seemed to be looking her over critically. "Give me your watch, ring, and necklace," Sarah ordered.
Alex complied. "Theft that bad here?"
"Yes. But more than that, someone snatching your watch could scratch you, or they might cut off a finger to get a ring. Then you have the real danger of disease. Don't wear any jewellery while you're here."
"Okay," Alex said, handing the items over to Sarah, who tucked them away quickly in an inside pocket. This wasn't going so well. Sarah and Paul seemed to be good friends, and so far, Sarah had treated her like she was a business associate passing through.
"Only the one case, the box, and your overnight bag? Good. Come on, then." Sarah organized Alex's luggage, and she and Paul set off through the milling crowd with Alex in tow. The van turned out to be a battered old Toyota held together by a thick layer of dust. Paul tossed Alex's bags in the back and opened the side door for Alex to get in. Much to Alex's annoyance, Sarah didn't follow, but went around to the front passenger side and got in beside Paul.
"Welcome to Nairobi, or Nairobbery, as some of the disenchanted would say. You need to be very careful," Sarah said as she turned in her seat to face Alex. "How was your flight over here?"
Alex gritted her teeth. Sarah was acting like a tour guide, not a lover, not even a friend. "Cramped and uneventful," Alex
responded. Sarah nodded and turned around again, leaving Alex to her own thoughts. All of them pretty gloomy.
Chapter 6
James Phillips settled back with his gin and tonic in the lounge of the Norfolk Hotel. He had showered and changed into grey flannel slacks, white shirt, school tie, and navy blazer, but he still felt seedy. It was a feeling that was with him all the time now, having slowly built up over the years. He watched the comings and goings in the lobby. Nervous and excited tourists dressed in department store safari wear waited to be organized into rooms by their tour guides. Kenyan porters patiently arranged the tour groups' luggage, ignoring the fretting Europeans around them. Two British businessmen were painstakingly going through their bill at the counter, and in a small room off to one side, a Kenyan woman, elegantly dressed, helped guests with the slow and clumsy internet system.
The scene at the old Norfolk Hotel never really changed, just the styles and toys. Phillips's grandfather had come to Kenya full of hope that he would make a fortune in the new groundnut plantations. His dreams blew away with the topsoil when the rains failed to come. His son, Phillip's father, had tried planting an orchard, tangerines, and almonds. When the Second World War came he enlisted, the possibility of being killed in combat better than the slow death of poverty. He didn't die, and his small disability pension for the loss of a leg made it possible for him to feed his wife and son.
It was a scholarship that allowed James to escape the farm and get a good private school education in England. He had chosen a career in the civil service, believing that the confines of European society were not for him. For most of his career, he had been in some part of Africa. Now his life had come full circle, and he was back in Kenya. Like the country, he was slipping into slow disrepair. At least for him, there was the escape of retirement; for the country there was none.
He supposed that once he retired he would stay on in Kenya for as long as he could. Then, when he was too old or sick, or the country too unstable, he would, with regret, head to England. He'd get a cheap flat near Dover were he could live out his days, looking out to sea, his heart yearning, as his father's and grandfather's had, for the promise that was Africa that never materialized.
He ordered a second drink, a luxury that he didn't usually allow himself. He felt he had earned it. He had been on the road for weeks listening, watching, and, he hoped, asking the right questions of the right people. He stretched out his long legs stiffly and watched and waited. A good deal of his life had been spent watching and waiting. He was good at it.
Phillips noted that Paul Na-tana left Alex and Sarah once he had unloaded the bags from the van and handed them over to a waiting porter. By slipping a few pounds to the waiter, Phillips found out that Sarah booked them into one room. He watched as Alex, with a barely concealed smirk, followed Sarah out through the morning room to the large garden courtyard beyond.
James Phillips let them go. He drained his glass and refused the offer of a refill. He thought he would get a few hours reading and perhaps a nap before dinner and then he would see what developed.
Alex thought the room was lovely. The carpets were thick and deep and the walls polished mahogany. The room was finished with good quality furniture in rich colours. A beautiful writing desk sat near the sitting area, and a large bay window overlooked the gardens of the courtyard. The bathroom was large, with teak walls and marble countertops. The Norfolk Hotel was a colonial bastion that had steadfastly refused to change with the world around it.
"Which bed do you want?" Sarah asked, lifting her bag onto the rack provided. Pain shot across her face and she had to bite her lip to stop the tears.
Her soft gasp brought Alex's eyes from sad reflection of the two double beds to Sarah's face. "What's the matter?
Sarah smiled. "Nothing."
"Sarah, God damn it; don't do that!" Alex snapped, far more forcefully than she had meant to and added to soften her outburst. "I... I just want to help."
Sarah blinked in surprise.
Alex hadn't thought that they'd be yelling at each other the first day, but if there was something wrong with Sarah, she wanted to know.
"I was wounded in a cattle raid the other day. A spear just scraped my shoulder. It was nothing, but I stayed at the Masai village, and I think it got infected. I've cleaned it and put disinfectant cream on it."
"Why didn't you get a shot of antibiotic at the clinic?" Alex asked, coming across the room.
"Alex, nobody willingly has a needle in Africa. With the shortage of supplies, lack of proper facilities in most clinics, and the widespread epidemic of AIDS, a needle could be a death sentence."
"Let me see," Alex demanded, her emotions hidden behind a well-cultivated professional neutrality as she stood a few feet away from Sarah.
"Alex, I don't—"
"I'm a doctor, and I have medical supplies, including needles and antibiotics, with me. Take off your shirt and let me have a look." Alex turned her back before Sarah could argue and went to open the box of medical supplies she'd brought with her. Behind her, she could hear Sarah slipping out of her shirt. Alex smiled with relief. She didn't want a scene over this. She was here to win Sarah back, not fight with her.
When Alex came back with a stethoscope, blood pressure cup, and thermometer, Sarah was sitting on the edge of the bed looking flushed and vulnerable. Alex felt desire pool deep in her gut. Sarah was beautiful, her skin soft and clear, and scented gently of sunlight and fresh herbs. The shoulder, however, was swollen, and the scratch now weeping and an ugly red. Thin red threads of infection were spreading out like roots down her arm.
Alex put the thermometer under Sarah's tongue and then sat beside her to listen to her chest. Fighting back the urge to wrap Sarah in her arms, she gently wrapped the blood pressure cuff in place and pumped it up, reading the numbers as she slowly let the pressure drop. "You're going to have to lie down. I'll need to give you some freezing and clean up some of this tissue before I bandage it and give you a shot."
"The medical supplies are for the clinic," Sarah said, but she did lie down once Alex stood to go root in the supply box again.
"And you're for the graveyard if you don't let me treat that infection. It's well on the way to a serious situation. Your
temperature is already up." Sarah lay still after that and let Alex do what she needed to. Alex was gentle, yet quick and efficient in her actions. It reminded Alex of when she had been doing her training and would practise listening to Sarah's heart and taking her blood pressure. Sarah would laugh when she'd find the oranges in the bowl on the kitchen table punctured with needle marks from Alex practising her technique. They had been happy then.
Despite Alex's care, her treatment had hurt, and tears brimmed in Sarah's eyes and rolled down her face as she lay there. "There, all done," Alex said gently, as she finished bandaging the wound. "I'll need to keep an eye on it for a few days to make sure the antibiotic is going to do the trick," she said, wiping a wad of cotton soaked in alcohol on Sarah's arm.
"You know I don't like needles," Sarah said with a sigh.
Alex got a roguish grin and raised her eyebrow, "Well, I could kiss it better, but you might prefer the needle."
"The needle is fine. I won't look," Sarah answered.
Even though Alex had anticipated this response, it hurt. She gave the shot as quickly and as gently as she could. "There, you should be okay in a few days."
"Thanks, Alex."
Alex looked down into Sarah's eyes and then nodded, too emotionally wired to respond. She got up quickly to put the medical supplies away. What if this didn't work out? How could she leave Africa without Sarah?
"Who is this Paul Na-tana? Are you involved with him?" Alex heard herself ask, and wished she could take back the words as soon as she had said them.
"Are you jealous?" Sarah asked. Her good arm was draped over her eyes.
"Have I reason to be?"
"It's been over for three years," Sarah said.
"Not for me, it hasn't."
Sarah dropped her hand from her eyes. She looked intently at Alex. "Paul works for the main office here in Nairobi. It's best to have someone who knows the city. Robbery and muggings are common. He was along for protection. He'll take us to the airport when we leave, as well. There hasn't been anyone else, Alex. I've been busy with my research."
Alex would have felt happy if it hadn't been for Sarah's last line. "I've been busy, too," she mumbled, and went back to packing the medical supplies neatly away.
Once they were settled into their room, they went down to the pool. Sarah contented herself with a good book and a lounge chair, while Alex did laps until she was so tired she could have sunk like a stone. She knew she needed to open the lines of communication with Sarah, but communication, except in terms of commands and temper, was not something Alex was good at. That's why she had opted for surgery. She didn't need a bedside manner for that, just good feet and steady hands.
Swimming slower, Alex watched as a man walked over to Sarah and struck up a conversation. She felt the old need to protect, and had to resist the urge to get out of the water and go to Sarah's side. She settled for floating on the surface, staying close enough to overhear what Sarah and the man discussed, but not so close as to be obvious.
"Hello there, Sarah, I thought I saw you crossing the lobby earlier today." Sarah looked up.
"Hi, James. It's a small world. Didn't we just have a drink together the other night out on the Masai Mara?"
Phillips chuckled. "Yes, I believe we did. We migrate about as much as the herd animals, it would seem. May I join you?"
"Sure."
"How is that sore shoulder of yours?" Phillips asked as he settled in a chair in the shade. Alex watched the man closely. He seemed to have a sort of old-school charm. Alex, who had never been good at social conversation, was jealous.
Sarah smiled. "Better now. My friend," she nodded towards Alex, "is a doctor, so she was able to give me some medical treatment."
"Lucky you. One can't be too careful these days." Phillips nodded at Alex, who felt herself bristle.
"Tell me, do you know John Cattleman?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Interesting chap. You know, he has a degree from Leeds in palaeontology. He worked with the Leakeys in Olduvai Gorge, Tanzania, as an undergraduate. The focus of his doctorate, though, was the Silk Trade routes. He spent a good deal of time in the Middle East, primarily Afghanistan."
Sarah put down her book and looked at Phillips. "I've always found John to be reliable and friendly whenever he's been home. Where are you going with this, James?"
Alex heard the change in Sarah's voice and swam to the side of the pool, ready to get involved if she was needed.
Phillips hesitated before speaking, rubbing his lip with a finger. "He's home now. I need you to be aware of him. Listen, watch, and report back to me."
Sarah looked annoyed. "I'm not going to do that. It's taken me a long time to gain these people's trust. I'm not going to betray that. I'm here to observe a unique culture, not get involved in international politics."
Sarah and James went quiet as Alex climbed up the pool ladder and came their way. Alex's black Speedo clung to her body like a second, skin, and beads of water dripped down her lean, muscular form. Alex was aware that both observers watched with open pleasure.
Alex approached like a panther, letting her strength and confidence radiate out. She hadn't liked the sudden change of expression on Sarah's face. Although she didn't know the history of the subject being discussed, it was apparent the man had said something Sarah didn't like. Alex picked up her towel and gave it a crack before wiping dry her wide shoulders.
"Alex, this is James Phillips. James, Doctor Alexandria Aubin."
Phillips stood and waited for Alex to offer her hand. She made her handshake a little too firm to be polite, but Phillips reacted only with a smile.
"A pleasure, Doctor. Sarah tells me that you've fixed her shoulder. That's good news. Of course, if she hadn't been out stealing cattle, it wouldn't have happened, right, Sarah? Well, I must be off. Keep in mind what I said, Sarah. It never hurts to keep one's eyes open. Nice meeting you, Dr. Aubin. No doubt I'll see you around. Good day, ladies."
The two women watched as Phillips made his way up the brick stairway that led from the pool gardens. "What did he want?" Alex asked bluntly.
"I'm not sure. Rumour has it that James works for MI6 and probably at the moment the CIA, too. He wants me to keep my eyes open. There's a lot of political unrest just below the surface in Africa."
Alex finished drying and wrapped the towel around her waist before sitting on the chair that Phillips had vacated. "Why the worried frown?"
"I never told him I'd been wounded on a cattle raid, only that I'd hurt my shoulder. Was it a slip or a warning?"
"Are you in trouble, Sarah?"
Sarah smiled, shrugging off the chill that Phillips's visit had left. "No. It's just African politics. Nothing to do with me. Let's go to the room."
They took turns showering and discretely changing clothes out of sight from one another. Alex chose black tailored slacks and a silk shirt. Sarah wore cream cotton slacks and a matching T-shirt decorated across the front in gold with the Big Five of the African animals.
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