“Don’t know. There was a little medical emergency she volunteered for.”
“How do we get to Odienné?”
It was an indisputable fact that any trip, no matter how well planned, no matter how experienced the travelers, had the potential for disaster. It was also indisputable that the trouble usually began with a question like, “How do we get to…”
They rented an old Land Rover in Korhogo and took turns driving, headed due west. Roads between most major towns in Côte d’Ivoire were paved, with one major exception. The road from Korhogo to Odienné was paved only as far as Boundiali, a town whose name means “drum dried in the sun,” but which might have been more aptly named “dust so thick you can’t even see the goat standing next to you.” If all roads were like the last hundred miles from Boundiali to Odienné, the wheel might never have been invented.
They reached the outskirts of Odienné just before sunset. In two hours they’d seen only one other traveler, a skinny, naked boy riding a brown-and-white cow. On one level it seemed as though they were in the middle of nowhere, yet Jack could appreciate why leaders of another era had chosen this site as the capital of the entire Kabadougou Empire. To the west, the Dienguélé range rippled over to the Guinean border. To the east rose Mont Tougoukoli, an eight-hundred-meter peak that was quite impressive, if only because it rose from the midst of seemingly endless grasslands. Jack pulled off to the side of the road, giving them a moment to shake off the dust and savor the view before driving into the city.
“My back is killing me.”
“Don’t blame me,” said Theo.
“Nobody’s blaming anybody for anything.”
“Which only proves what a great guy I am.”
“What?”
“Next time we’re hoppin’ a plane from Abidjan. I don’t care if I have to pistol-whip you and tie you to the fucking wing.”
Jack cooled his face with a splash of water from his canteen. Theo was working on his second giant liter of Bock beer, which had been ice cold when they left Korhogo, but an afternoon temperature of thirty-four degrees Celsius had taken off the chill in short order.
“You think we’ll find her?” asked Jack.
“Yup.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Cuz if we don’t, you’ll bitch all the way home like a teenage girl, sayin’ this trip was all for nothin’. So get it through your head right now, Jacko. We ain’t leavin’ till we find her.”
“That was truly powerful,” said Jack. “Have you considered a career in motivational speaking?”
Theo sucked down the last of his beer and pretended to scratch the side of his head with just one finger, the middle one, fully extended.
They entered the city around six-thirty, minutes after the largely Muslim population of forty-seven thousand had finished the sunset prayer. It was a historic agricultural town, but the grand mosquée was all that remained of its architectural treasures. The rest of the old quarters had been hastily razed as part of a radical urbanization plan that replaced shady streets and traditional old homes with utterly unremarkable modern buildings, one more facet of the development crazy mentality that cost Côte d’Ivoire more of its rain forest than any other country on earth.
“What’s that smell?” asked Jack.
“Like charcoal,” said Theo.
They drove to Hôtel les Frontières, one of the best hotels in town, which was not where Rene Fenning was staying. Her colleagues back at Children First headquarters in Korhogo had drawn a blank on where she was staying, and they could only tell Jack that she was at some joint right next to Hôtel les Frontières. It turned out to be Hôtel Touristel, which catered mostly to budget travelers on their way to or from Mali. The clerk behind the desk was not exactly fluent in English, but he was conversant enough.
“Was fire in market three day ago,” he said.
“That explains the smell,” said Theo.
“Dr. Rene come here to make help. Come. Follow.”
He led Jack and Theo outside, down a dusty walkway to the back of the building, where a large cafeteria had been converted into a hospital. About a half-dozen beds lined one wall, another dozen cots lined another wall, and dozens of brightly colored woven mats covered the floor. Most of them were empty, as if the emergency had passed. Jack counted eleven patients remaining, many with bandaged hands or arms.
A woman wearing a makeshift surgical mask, the only white woman in the room, approached them and said, “You must be Jack Swyteck.”
“Yes. This is my friend, Theo.”
She removed the scarf from around her face, and Jack realized it wasn’t a surgical mask, but rather an appropriate covering for a woman in a Muslim community, particularly a blond American trying extra hard not to offend. “I’m Rene,” she said as they shook hands. “You fellas mind stepping outside with me? You’re a little dusty, and we’re doing our best to keep down the risk of infection.”
She led them out the back door. Night had fallen, and it surprised Jack how the temperature had dropped in such a short time since sunset.
“Sorry I had to skedaddle out of Korhogo on you,” she said.
“That’s all right. Obviously it was an emergency.”
“The worst is over now. It took some doing, but we finally evacuated the most seriously injured to Abidjan.”
“Bet they wouldn’t have been afraid to fly,” said Theo.
“Excuse me?”
“Ignore him,” said Jack, shooting his friend a look that asked, “Is nothing sacred?”
Rene said, “Sorry for the way I look. I’ve hardly slept in two days. I know you’ve come a long way and would like to talk about Sally.”
“We can do it in the morning,” said Jack.
“Lunchtime would be so much better,” she said with a weary smile.
“That’s fine.”
She said, “There’s a maquis next door.”
“What’s a maquis?”
“You boys haven’t been here long, have you? It’s like a café. Let’s meet there at noon.”
“Great. See you then.”
She smiled and went back inside. As the door closed behind her, Jack and Theo looked at one another, as if sharing the exact same thought.
“Wow,” said Theo.
“Uncanny, isn’t it? She looks exactly like her sister.”
“Ten minutes in the shower, and she is an absolute knockout.”
“Gee, all these years I thought you were shallow, and here you are, able to look past a woman’s outer layer of sweat and see all the way down to her true, naked, dripping-wet worth.”
“What the hell did you just say?”
“I said she looks pretty damn good even without a shower.”
“That’s what I thought you said.”
“Come on,” said Jack, walking toward the hotel, “let’s get a room.”
Thirty-two
Where’s your friend?” asked Rene.
She and Jack were at the maquis, the open-air café next to their hotel. It was the epitome of informal dining, just a smattering of rickety wood tables and benches in the sand. They were seated across from each other in the circle of shade beneath a thatched paillote. The air smelled of cooked fish and some kind of steaming carbohydrate, appetizing enough, though the buzzing flies and oppressive heat would take some getting used to. Jack was sweating just sitting there, though Theo had been right about Rene: A shower and a good night’s sleep had vaulted her right into another league.
“Theo’s still sleeping,” he said.
“Jet lag?”
“More like jet fuel. He and a couple of Belgians on their way to Man were up late drinking something called pitasi.”
She flashed a knowing smile, as if she’d been there. “African gin. Deadly stuff.”
A waiter brought them sodas and recited the menu in French. Jack let Rene order for both of them, trusting that he wouldn’t end up with boiled eye of impala.
“You and Theo make a pretty interesting friendship.”