Ivoire? Ridiculous! You have to see the native quarter and go to the market. They’re just opening up again after the midday break. You won’t believe the beautiful fabrics. I know a little shop—”
Dana started to respond, but Millicent was on a roll. “Rest!” she repeated. “I’m sixty-three. Did you know that? And I can go all day. How old are you?”
“Twenty-six,” Dana responded.
“Then you can probably keep up with me.”
“You bet I can,” Dana promised. “Let’s go shopping.”
* * *
DANA WISHED she could take back those words a dozen times during their shopping trip. Most of the villagers and half the inhabitants of the surrounding countryside seemed to be crowded into the Port Ivoire bazaar.
Shoppers called back and forth and children chased one another among the thatched-roof shops that sold everything from live chickens to intricately carved figurines. The scents of cooking meat and stewing spices wafted on the air, mingled with the cacophony of half a dozen different dialects. The market was loud and frenetic, hot and dusty. And overhead the relentless sun beat down.
The heat wasn’t all that got to Dana; so did Millicent’s relentless advice and cheerful instructions.
“No, no, dear. Not that pottery. You can buy it much more cheaply at another shop,” she whispered, drawing Dana away from a display of brightly painted pots. “Besides, this is not nearly as special as the carvings. And of course the cloth. And, oh, I know a wonderful shop where you can buy jewelry, authentic pieces, hand set—”
Dana asserted herself. “I’m not buying, I’m just looking, Millie. And I’m sure I’ll get around to all the shops eventually.”
Millicent sighed. “Of course. I forget what it’s like to come here for the first time. But when it’s time to buy, let me be your adviser, dear, so you won’t be taken advantage of.” She wagged a warning finger.
“Thanks, Millie. I will.” Dana stepped out of the sun into the doorway of a corner shop, hoping for a hint of breeze. There was none. She mopped at the dampness on her forehead with a tissue. “I’m a little overwhelmed by all this activity—and heat,” Dana admitted. “But I don’t want to hold you back, Millie.”
“Well...” Millie adjusted her hat to better shade her face. “I am anxious to visit a friend at the other side of the bazaar. She sells the most fabulous handwoven rugs. I’m taking a few back to Brazzaville on consignment. You’d love—”
Dana laughed at Millie’s energy and enthusiasm. “I’m sure I would, but I’m not going to carry rugs back on the plane. Go ahead, see your friend. I’ll wander around on this side of the market. It’s a little shadier,” she added.
“Are you sure, dear?” Millie asked solicitously.
“I’m sure. I’ll look around for a little while and then go back to the hotel.” Dana could tell she was cramping Millie’s energetic style. “Go on. It’s okay.”
“Such a dear girl,” Millie said. “Now be careful what you eat around here or you might end up with toasted grub worms.” Millie chuckled at her humor.
“I’m going to browse, not eat,” Dana called after her. “And I’m not buying anything.”
* * *
BACK AT THE HOTEL, Dana looked at her purchases. Why, when she’d only meant to browse, had she invested in yards of bright colored cloth, a carved leopard and a huge straw hat? She’d have plenty of time later to explore the markets at her leisure, maybe find some real bargains on items she actually wanted. Oh, well, she decided, her purchases were interesting.
She tossed everything on a chair, kicked off her shoes and flopped onto her bed. As the fan whirred hypnotically, the sounds of the river seemed to recede and float away on the hot, moist air. Dana closed her eyes.
She forgot about Millicent, her shopping trip, the useless purchases...and she thought about Alex. She didn’t mean to, but she couldn’t stop herself. Behind closed eyes, she envisioned his face, imagined his voice, even felt his touch on her shoulder.
Betty was right. She’d heard about him on the boat coming upriver—and she had listened to the gossip; there was no denying that. Louis had told her about himself and Alex, that they’d been great friends until they’d argued violently over a woman. Louis also hinted that Millicent and Alex had some sort of deal going; he paid her a percentage for each guest she steered to his hotel. Even with engine trouble, the Congo Queen’s captain somehow managed to make it as far as the Stanley Hotel.
What had Millicent said about Alex? As Dana tried to remember, his face drifted in and out of her mind’s eye again. She tried to hold onto Millicent’s words, but his face kept smiling down at her suggestively.
Then she remembered. Millicent’s accusations involved smuggling. Diamonds? Gold? She wasn’t sure. But there was no doubt that Alex Jourdan had a reputation for walking a little outside the law.
And what about Betty? Dana thought of her bizarre encounter with the journalist. Never had she seen a woman so bitter over a failed affair, and everyone on the boat seemed to be sure there’d been one between Alex and Betty. More gossip, which Dana had tried unsuccessfully to avoid.
Now she put it out of her mind but couldn’t dismiss him so easily. Even as she felt herself drifting away on a soft wave of sleep, his face was still there. Then through the haze of drowsiness, she heard his voice again, but this time he was talking to someone. It sounded like Louis. They were arguing. Outside? On the veranda? In the hallway?
The voices seemed real, not imaginary, not dreamlike. They were raised in anger. She tried to concentrate on their words. She caught one. Pygmy. Something about the Pygmies... Everything went fuzzy in her mind, but Dana hung on, listening. They were arguing about—what? An elephant or elephants? Then she heard her name. Or thought she did.
Dana tried to hold onto consciousness, but she kept falling, falling. And then she slept.
* * *
SHE MADE IT to dinner that night with the conversation still ringing in her ears. And when she observed the two men seated at opposite ends of a long table, not speaking, their eyes rarely meeting, Dana decided the conversation hadn’t been a dream. But she chose to sit at their table anyway, rather than join Betty and Yassif or Mr. Longongo, who dined alone, or the captain and his crew, who shared another table.
Dana sat down beside Father Theroux. Apparently, he often dined at the hotel. Tonight he joined Millicent in trying to keep up a lively conversation while Alex and Louis silently glowered. As for Dana, she had her own agenda. Pygmies. And elephants. That’s what Alex and Louis had been arguing about, and she was determined to get it out in the open. Curiosity guiding her, Dana directed her questions to the priest, a willing participant.
Louis seemed disinterested, more concerned about his bottle of wine than conversation, while Alex lounged back in his chair and observed the room. He’d obviously just bathed. His skin gleamed, and drops of water still sparkled in his hair. He’d changed into a clean, crisp white shirt of gauzy material that draped across the muscles of his shoulders and chest. His rolled-up sleeves revealed the strength of his lower arms, and the white shirt set off his tan and green eyes. Dana had to force her attention away from
