Diamond Legacy. Monica McCabe

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ what do you believe you will find?”

      Blood diamonds. The trail led straight to Katanga’s door.

      “Someone at the Center has interesting friends,” Matt replied. “I’m hoping for an introduction.”

      Nik grunted his skepticism. “Whatever it is you are not telling me makes my brain ache. I don’t like it.”

      “I need your trust on this one, Nik.”

      His friend sat in silence, mulling it over. Matt gave him time and lifted his beer, finishing the bottle in one long draw.

      “You worry me, Bennett. Things have a way of blowing up or becoming bullet-ridden when you’re involved.” Nik’s troubled gaze dared him to deny the facts. “I need assurance you’ll take care. Katanga is the pride of Gaborone’s scientific community. They will not take kindly to its destruction.”

      “What sort of lout do you take me for?” Matt scoffed and set the empty on the table. “I like animals. Some are even my best friends.”

      Nik narrowed his eyes.

      “Scout’s honor!” Matt tried to recall the hand salute from the year his straight-laced uncle made him join the boy scouts.

      “I am crazy to even consider it,” Nik said.

      “Don’t beat yourself up. No one can resist me when I’m at my most charming self.”

      His friend snorted. “Give me a couple days to make arrangements. Call on Friday. I’ll have details for you then.”

      Matt grinned. “I knew I could count on you.”

      Nik grabbed his beer and took a long pull, like a man who needed to drown the insanity of his decision. He stared at the half empty bottle and shook his head. “Just do me one favor.”

      “Name it.”

      “Get out of this alive. No one else gives me half as much grief, but Botswana would be a lot worse off without you.”

      Chapter 3

      Miranda shielded her eyes against the glare of Botswana’s late afternoon sun and descended the plane’s rollaway staircase. The last leg of their journey had been the longest—that final hour of airtime between Johannesburg, South Africa, and Gaborone, Botswana.

      Katanga Wildlife Center wanted them here fast, which translated into a rigorous flight schedule with no real breaks. She and Jason snatched what sleep they could, dined on airport fare, and for the past twelve hours, her insides vibrated like the whir of a jet engine.

      “Thirty-six hours across ten time zones and the international date line.” Jason sounded every bit as worn out as she felt. “All in a day’s work, eh?”

      She managed a half-hearted laugh as they trudged across the tarmac. Sweltering heat radiated off the concrete, threatening to sap what little energy she had left. Off in the distance, the heat wavered, warping the brown savanna landscape and defying the onset of cooler autumn temperatures. Then the doors of Khama International Airport whooshed open, luring them inside with the promise of air conditioning.

      They followed the flow of travelers past a short oval of boarding gates to a large open room split between ticket counters on the right and baggage claim on the left. Noisy and chaotic, the place overflowed with activity and little room to squeeze through.

      Jason pointed to a far wall where the crowd seemed thinner, and they maneuvered through a maze of bodies to reach it. Miranda wearily leaned against a convenient column and yawned, brushing a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “I really hope Zimbali Lodge comes through with the driver they promised.”

      “Amen to that,” Jason replied.

      A loud buzzer rang, signaling the arrival of a baggage train. The crowd surged forward, leaving the outer fringes open. A wave of relief washed over Miranda.

      “Here, hold this.” Jason handed over his new camera bag, and she lifted a brow in question. “If you promise to guard it with your life, I’ll get our luggage.”

      With no inclination to argue, she accepted his offer, content to stay put. He disappeared into the dense crowd, and she leaned her head back, well past tired and craving several hours of sleep.

      Until a loud, bone-jarring crash jolted her clean to her toes.

      Fifty feet away, the glass doors to the parking lot slammed open, and a very thin, very frantic man burst through at a dead run, another guy right behind him.

      They raced in her direction. Within seconds, they were close enough she could see panic in the lead man’s face. Close enough she could feel the rush of air when the pursuer lunged into a floor-slamming tackle.

      They rolled, struggled, and the panicked one cursed loudly. He fought like hell’s worst demon had him cornered. A wild kick brought down a gumball machine and its glass globe shattered against the floor, shooting rainbow marbles of gum in every direction.

      “You’re going down, slimeball!” Harsh determination rang in the tackler’s voice.

      She believed him. Especially since he rolled right over top of jagged bits of glass and seemed oblivious to the pain. An agile move landed him on top, pinning the skinny one down.

      It didn’t last long. Wiry, limber, and far from subdued, the guy snapped up a bony knee and jammed it into the tackler’s back, knocking him sideways. With a deft twist, he broke free, launched himself up, and turned to run.

      The gathering crowd surged backward, but just as fast the chaser snagged an ankle, bringing him down again.

      “Stinking cop!” The man screamed his fury. “I’ll kill you first!” He kicked at his attacker, missing his head by inches.

      “Not…today…dirtbag!” Struggling to contain his thrashing quarry, the tackler locked onto the man’s knees and swept up a handful of gumballs and glass, flinging them at his face. When the other man jerked up his arms to block the missiles, the cop pounced.

      Adrenaline thudded in Miranda’s veins. Her first real bust! Africa had a reputation for lawlessness, but she’d only been here half an hour.

      The dirtbag screeched, arched his back, and dug in his heels to prevent being flipped onto his stomach. He threw a desperate punch and landed a hard clip to the cop’s jaw, knocking the larger man backward.

      In a split second, the bad guy snatched something from under his pant leg, scrambled to his feet, and leveled a revolver at the cop.

      A collective gasp echoed in the cavernous room. Someone screamed. A stampede began as bystanders raced for cover.

      Time slowed as Miranda watched him pull back the hammer and take aim. With no thought for consequences, she tightened her fist around the strap of Jason’s camera bag, rushed up behind the gun-toting offender, and leveled a power swing against his head.

      The dirtbag dropped like a stone.

      Dead silence reigned for a matter of seconds. Then everyone began shouting СКАЧАТЬ