“What about them?” Melanie asked.

“Never mind,” Kevin said. “I’ve got enough to worry about.”

“Okay, good luck,” Melanie whispered.

“Yeah, good luck,” Candace echoed.

Kevin tried to stand up and start out, but he couldn’t. He kept telling himself that he’d never been a hero, and this was no time to start.

“What’s the matter?” Melanie asked.

“Nothing,” Kevin said. Then suddenly from some place deep within himself, Kevin found the courage. He rose to a hunched-over position and began to pick his way along the path of moonlight toward the mouth of the cave.

As Kevin moved, he debated whether he would do better to move at a snail’s pace or make an out-and-out dash for the canoe. It was an argument between caution and getting the ordeal over with. Caution won out. He moved with painstaking baby steps. Every time his foot made the slightest noise, he winced and froze in the darkness. All around him, he could hear the stertorous breathing of the sleeping creatures.

Twenty feet from the cave’s entrance one of the bonobos moved so suddenly, the branches in his bed snapped. Again Kevin stopped in mid-stride, his heart pounding. But the bonobo had only stirred and was still breathing heavily, a sign of sleep. With additional light from the proximity of the cave entrance, Kevin could clearly see the bonobos sprawled about him. The sight of so many sleeping beasts was enough to stop him dead in his tracks. After a full minute of paralysis Kevin recommenced his progress toward freedom. He even began to feel the first wave of relief as the smell of the damp jungle replaced the feral scent of the bonobos. But that relief was short-lived.

Another clap of thunder followed by a sudden tropical downpour scared Kevin to the point that he almost lost his balance. It was only after frantic arm swinging that he managed to stay upright and in his planned path. He shuddered to think how close he’d come to stepping on one of the sleeping bonobos.

With another ten feet to go, Kevin could now see the black silhouette of the jungle below. The nocturnal sounds of the jungle were now audible over the bonobos’ snores.

Kevin was close enough to begin worrying about how to make the steep descent to the ground when calamity struck. His heart leaped into his throat as he felt a hand on his leg! Something had grabbed him around the ankle with such force that instant tears formed in his eyes. Looking down in the half light, the first thing he saw was his watch. It was on the hairy wrist of the powerful bonobo number one.

“Tada,” shouted the bonobo as he leaped to his feet, upending Kevin in the process. Luckily, the floor of that part of the cave was covered with refuse which broke Kevin’s fall. Nevertheless, he landed on his left hip in a jarring fashion.

Bonobo number one’s yell brought the other bonobos to their feet. For a moment, there was utter chaos until they all understood that there was no danger.

Bonobo number one let go of Kevin’s ankle only to reach down and grasp him by his upper arms. In an amazing demonstration of strength, he picked Kevin up and held him off the ground at arm’s length.

The bonobo gave a loud, long, angry vocalization. All Kevin could do was wince in pain at the animal’s tight grip.

At the end of his tirade, bonobo number one marched into the depths of the cave and literally tossed Kevin into the smaller chamber. After a final angry word, he went back to his pallet.

Kevin managed to push himself up to a sitting position. He’d again landed on his hip, and it felt numb. He’d also sprained a wrist and scraped an elbow. But considering the fact that he’d been literally thrown through the air, he was better off than he’d anticipated.

More cries echoed inside of the cave, presumably from bonobo number one, but Kevin couldn’t tell for certain in the darkness. He felt his right elbow. He knew that the sticky warmth had to be blood.

“Kevin?” Melanie whispered. “Are you okay?”

“As good as can be expected,” Kevin said.

“Thank God,” Melanie said. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Kevin said. “I’d thought I’d made it. I was right at the cave’s entrance.”

“Are you hurt?” Candace asked.

“A little,” Kevin admitted. “But no broken bones. At least, I don’t think so.”

“We couldn’t see what happened,” Melanie said.

“My double scolded me,” Kevin said. “At least that’s what I think he was doing. Then he threw me back in here. I’m glad I didn’t land on either of you.”

“I’m so sorry I encouraged you to go,” Melanie said. “I guess you were right.”

“It’s good of you to say,” Kevin said. “Well, it almost worked. I was so close.”

Candace switched on the flashlight with her hand shielding the front lens. She held it near Kevin’s arm to check his elbow.

“I guess we’re going to have to count on Bertram Edwards,” Melanie said. She shuddered and then sighed. “It’s hard to believe: we’re prisoners of our own creations.”

CHAPTER 20

MARCH 8, 1997

4:40 P.M.

BATA, EQUATORIAL GUINEA

JACK realized he’d been clenching his teeth. He was also holding Laurie’s hand much harder than was reasonable. Consciously, he tried to relax. The problem had been the flight from Douala, Cameroon, to Bata. The airline was a fly-by-night outfit that used small, old commuter planes, just the kind of aircraft that plagued Jack’s nightmares about his late family.

The flight had not been easy. The plane constantly dodged thunderstorms whose towering clouds varied in color from whipped-cream white to deep purple. Lightning had flashed constantly, and the turbulence was fierce.

The previous part of the trip had been a dream. The flight from New York to Paris had been smooth and blissfully uneventful. Everyone had slept at least a few hours.

Arrival in Paris had been ten minutes early, so they’d had ample time to make their connection with Cameroon Airlines. Everyone slept even more on the flight south to Douala. But that final leg to Bata was a hair-raiser.

“We’re landing,” Laurie said to Jack.

“I hope it is a controlled landing,” Jack quipped.

He looked out the dirty window. As he’d expected, the landscape was a carpet of uninterrupted green. As the tops of the trees came closer and closer, he hoped there was a runway ahead.

Eventually, they touched down onto tarmac, and Jack and Warren breathed simultaneous sighs of relief.

As the weary travelers climbed out of the small, aged plane, Jack looked across the ill-maintained runway and saw a strange sight. It was a resplendent white jet sitting all by itself against the dark green of the jungle. At four points surrounding the plane were soldiers in camouflage fatigues and red berets. Although ostensibly standing upright, they’d all assumed varying postures of repose. Automatic rifles were casually slung over their shoulders.

“Whose plane?” Jack asked Esteban. With no markings it was apparent it was a private jet.

“I can’t imagine,” Esteban said.

Everyone except Esteban was unprepared for the chaos in the airport arrival area. All foreign arrivals had to go through Customs. The group was taken along with their luggage to a side room. They were led to this unlikely spot by two men in dirty uniforms with automatic pistols bolstered in their belts.

At first Esteban had been excluded from the room, but after a loud argument on his part in a local dialect, he was allowed in. The men opened all the bags and spread the contents onto a picnic-sized table.

Esteban told Jack the men expected bribes. At first Jack refused on principle. When it became apparent that the standoff was going to last for hours, Jack relented. Ten French francs solved the problem.

As they exited into the main part of the airport, Esteban apologized. “It’s a problem here,” he said. “All government people take bribes.”