“Is there another?”
Jack laughed at himself. “Why turn to us? Why not Oxford?”
Samuel sighed and fixed his eyes on the road.
Jack tried to read him. “Why not Oxford, Samuel?”
“I did contact Oxford. They are in shock. They knew Gabriel quite well. They knew how much he longed to return to Kenya. The news of his death was difficult for them, and . . . they don’t want professors or students put at risk.”
“I see. So, . . . the Americans . . . it’s the Wild West over there. Go get one of them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Americans like playing with guns.”
“No. It was not that at all.” He swerved around a vehicle, then back into the lane.
Jack bounced against the door. “Then, why us, and why the urgency? Why not wait? Or find another university, maybe here in Nairobi?
Samuel’s face turned stone. Not even a flinch.
“Simple questions, Samuel.” Jack gave him a moment, then, “Never mind. Sorry to pry.”
“My usual avenues for seeking collaboration and support were closed. By the Ministry.” He flashed a subtle smile. “But, I have connections. Here and there, people with appropriate levels of influence. My connections put me on a path to your International Affairs Office.”
“Okay, but why the urgency?”
Samuel drew in a long, slow breath. “Some in the Ministry think Gabriel’s research should be ended. I and my connections believe that would be a mistake. We must continue Gabriel’s research. We must not let them push us aside.”
“I don’t understand. Why would the ministry not support it?”
“Discomfort. Lack of political will. The prospect that Gabriel’s research would yield inconvenient findings.” Samuel turned and seemed to study Jack’s face.
“Hey, don’t worry about me. I’m a scientist. Always big on research.” He raised a brow and smiled. “Tell me about his work.”
“Multi-faceted. Some of it similar to what I’m told your agency calls, vital signs.”
“Indicator species and systems?”
“Precisely. But the more controversial aspect of the work focused on habitat fragmentation. The relationships between intensity of human activity and the health and viability of wildlife habitat and populations. Wildlife corridors, and eventually, through collaboration, ecological economies.”
“Tough nuts to crack,” Jack said. “Is that why he was killed?”
“I do not believe so. I believe it simply an unfortunate encounter with a poacher.”
“But you’re not absolutely certain.”
“Not entirely. The investigation continues.”
“When will they know?”
“There is no they. It is I conducting the investigation.”
“I see. Back to Gabriel’s work. The things he focused on. They take time. There are no quick, easy answers, and I can’t be here forever.”
Samuel appeared to consider the words. “There is seasonal migration of wildlife into and out of Nairobi National Park, even as it exists on the edge of Nairobi. Fences surround the park to the north, west, and east, but not to the south. Not entirely. But Maasai lands, and even more so, the private ranches owned by individuals and land brokers, and corporations intending to cash in on appreciating land prices due to population increases . . . these are strangling the migration corridors. If we do not do something now, or soon, the migration corridors will be gone. The beauty and rhythms of nature subdued. The park will become little more than a zoo.”
Jack nodded, watching the road, noticing traffic becoming lighter as Samuel skirted what seemed a different part of the city. Industrial. Large buildings alongside a rail line. “Where are we going, and who am I working with?”
“We are going to the south of the park, where we have a ranger outpost for you to stay. And it is me with whom you’ll be working.”
“Are you a scientist?”
“I am not a scientist. I am ranger, a warden.”
“Who also happens to be investigating two murders.”
“Do not concern yourself with that,” Samuel said, steering into a roundabout, taking the third turn. “Teach me to do Gabriel Kagunda’s research, and I will assure that it continues.”
Jack studied him a moment. “Did you know him well? Did you know either of them?”
“Very well. The other ranger—David Ole Nalangu—had been under my command for many years. He was Maasai, a good man, a good ranger.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Samuel raised a hand to his beret in salute. “And thank you for coming. Do you know why your government sent only one?”
“Is that a problem?”
“Maybe just as well.”
“Why?’
“It might make things easier. I wasn’t exactly following protocol.”
“Interesting. Care to share?”
Samuel chose not to answer.
“Sorry. None of my business.”
The cityscape became something less, yielding to a fence and an entrance sign. East Gate, Nairobi National Park.
Within minutes of driving past a cluster of buildings, they were on open expanses, a moonlit picture of Africa. Looking back, lights of the city. Looking forward, grassland, scattered fever trees and acacia. After several turns and road junctions, they came to an encampment. A cluster of small buildings. Samuel steered through, stopping at a solitary building, small and unmarked. He killed the engine and climbed out. Jack followed him in.
The house held a small, functional kitchen, and a room with a desk and what was little more than an army cot. Jack dropped his duffle on the bed.
“Will this be adequate?” Samuel asked.
“It’ll do fine.”
“If not, we can try again to find a room in Nairobi, or at one of the lodges or safari camps. I was not expecting such a rapid response from your government.”
Jack laughed. “Impressive, wasn’t it? Doesn’t happen very often, I promise.” He looked around the quarters. “This will
