Tall, Dark And Deadly

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Millicent was thoughtful. “I’ve known Alex for a long time, and I understand what he’s capable of. A little larceny here and there, lying when it suits him, womanizing, it goes without saying. But murder—”

Dana felt a burst of anger. “I don’t believe this! No one wants to admit that Alex could be guilty—not you, not Father Theroux, certainly not Kantana. In spite of the fact that the man’s practically a criminal. Whereas everyone immediately assumes I’m guilty when I’m the least likely person in the world to commit murder.”

“But you, my dear girl, are a stranger here.” Millicent’s response, meant to be kind, sent cold chills down Dana’s spine. “The rest of us know one another, our capabilities as well as our frailties, while you are an unknown element. Of course, you’d be an obvious suspect.”

Dana felt sick. She was a stranger in a far-off land—with no one to stand up for her, no one to take her side. “You will help me, won’t you?” she asked in a shaky voice.

Millicent’s voice was strong and reassuring. “Of course. I’ll get on it right now. I’ll keep after that captain until he gets the radio working.”

“Thank you.” Dana couldn’t keep the tremble out of her voice.

* * *

NIGHT FELL over Porte Ivoire like a thick, heavy cloak. Strangely, as I’d noticed often, the darkness didn’t muffle sound; noises seemed to intensify. The beating wings of a raptor swooping down on its prey; the rustle of a night animal in dry grass; the rumble of laughter from the waterfront. It had been that way the night Louis died. All the sounds magnified. I remember distinctly the whisper of the dart. The sharp intake of Louis’s breath. The sound of his body falling across the path.

Too bad he had to die. He had such a love for life, for fine wine and good food. And women. Most of them fell for his world-weary, French dilettante line. Few women knew what Louis was really like or what he was up to.

* * *

DANA PUT ON the clean slacks and shirt Millicent brought and tried not to be intimidated by the darkness that was creeping into her cell. It was hard to ignore when the animals outside increased their frantic calling. And the shadows lengthened...her heartbeat accelerated.

It was the rapid beating of her heart that told Dana she was in trouble; getting through the night was going to be hell, and she wasn’t sure she was prepared for it.

Kantana made a last visit before leaving for home and dinner. Victor, his aide, was left in charge. And that was not comforting, particularly when he came to the office door every few minutes and looked down the hall at her. After the third time, she crawled onto her bed in the corner of the cell, out of his view.

The black night was illuminated by a single bulb swaying in the hall, casting its crazy shadows on Dana.

I could die here, she thought.

And the only thing that could prevent her death would be action on Dana’s part. She needed a plan of some kind. But what? She had no money, no passport. She couldn’t even bribe her jailer!

Dana drew her legs to her chest and tried to make herself into a little ball. Tried to disappear. She was too tired to think and too scared to sleep. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks. She felt alone and very sorry for herself.

Against her will, she dozed off. Voices awoke her, two men speaking French in whispers. She couldn’t make out what they were saying. It seemed like déjà vu, that conversation, so similar to what she heard—or thought she heard—between Alex and Louis that fateful night.

Then it was quiet, and she heard only the noises of the night, those terrifying sounds that kept her on edge, huddled on the bed, ready for anything.

“I wonder how many stars Louis would have given this place?”

The voice came from the window, and at the sound of it, Dana bolted to her feet. “Who is it?” she cried. Then she saw his face, briefly, as the bulb cast a quick illumination on the cell window.

“Alex Jourdan! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Keep your voice down,” he ordered, “so Victor doesn’t hear you. Wait until he turns the tape recorder on. There...” he said as the music wafted from the jail office.

Dana listened for a moment to the sound of jazz. “You brought him a tape recorder?”

“Sure. He loves jazz. I brought him some beer, too. that’ll help him pass the hours while he guards his dangerous prisoner.”

Dana shot him a long, hate-filled look. “Are you crazy?”

“I needed to talk with you. The jazz and the beer will give me that chance, keep him occupied while you and I make a deal.”

“A deal? You are insane! There’s no way I’m dealing with Louis’s murderer. Now get away from the window or I’ll scream for Victor.”

“No, you won’t,” Alex said calmly. “You’ll listen to what I have to say because, lady, I’m your only hope.”

“Then God pity me,” Dana said flatly, “if I have to depend on the likes of you.” She moved into the corner and climbed onto her bed, as far away from him as she could get. Even though he was on the other side of the bars, she felt safer away from the window.

“You don’t have to depend on me,” he said, “but I think you’ll want to when you hear what I can do.”

“And just what is that?” Dana asked.

“I can break you out of this place,” he answered in a hoarse whisper.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied loudly.

“Be quiet or I’ll never get a chance to show you. I can get you out of here now. Tonight. We can cross the border into Zaire and then fly to Kenya. You can go to the American Embassy, get a new passport and be out of this part of the world before Jean Luc gets organized enough to put together a chase. You can be free, Dana.”

Free. The word sounded wonderful, but there was no way freedom would come from Alex Jourdan. There was no way she could trust him.

“Come here, Dana. I don’t want to shout. Come here so I can tell you what I have in mind.”

Curiosity got the best of her. Whatever he had to say, listening to him would be preferable to cowering uselessly. She went to the window. When she was within two feet of him, she stopped.

“Come closer,” he urged.

“No, this is good enough.”

“What I have to say is for no ears but yours. If you don’t come close, I can’t speak.”

Warily, she approached. She was obviously the crazy one for even talking to him. Their encounter in the garden the night before, the perplexing mixture of emotions it aroused in her, was all too immediate. She didn’t just remember those feelings; she felt them. Attraction. Excitement. Anger. And danger; it had been there in the garden, and it was here in the jail.

But she’d already taken the first step toward him. She took another. His face was in shadow, but she could make out his features in the dim light. The look in his eyes was dark and intense, and the seductive whisper of his voice drew her on.

“I can help you, Dana.”

She kept her voice low. “You don’t strike me as the altruistic type. There must be something in this for you.”

He flashed a smile, and she caught a glimpse of his even, white teeth. “No, I’m not altruistic. Let’s put it this way. I’m meeting a mutual need. But I can’t explain unless I can see you. Step a little closer, into the moonlight.”