By the time Raymond entered his apartment his mood had improved significantly, at least until he got in the door.

“You’ve had two calls from Africa,” Darlene reported.

“Problems?” Raymond asked. There was something about Darlene’s voice that set off alarm bells.

“There was good news and bad news,” Darlene said. “The good news was from the surgeon. He said that Horace Winchester is doing miraculously and that you should start planning on coming to pick him and the surgical team up.”

“What’s the bad news?” Raymond asked.

“The other call was from Siegfried Spallek,” Darlene said. “He was a little vague. He said there was some trouble with Kevin Marshall.”

“What kind of trouble?” Raymond asked.

“He didn’t elaborate,” Darlene said.

Raymond remembered specifically asking Kevin not to do anything rash. He wondered if the researcher had not heeded his warning. It must have had something to do with that stupid smoke Kevin had seen.

“Did Spallek want me to call back tonight?” Raymond asked.

“It was eleven o’clock his time when he called,” Darlene said. “He said he could talk to you tomorrow.”

Raymond groaned inwardly. Now he’d have to spend the entire night worrying. He wondered when it was all going to end.

CHAPTER 11

March 5, 1997

11:30 P.M.

Cogo, Equatorial Guinea

Kevin heard the heavy metal door open at the top of the stone stairs and a crack of light cascaded in. Two seconds later, the string of bare lightbulbs in the ceiling of the corridor went on. Through the bars of his cell, he could see Melanie and Candace in their respective cells. They were squinting as he was in the sudden glare.

Heavy footfalls on the granite stairs preceded Siegfried Spallek’s appearance. He was accompanied by Cameron McIvers and Mustapha Aboud, chief of the Moroccan guards.

“It’s about time, Mr. Spallek!” Melanie snapped. “I demand to be let out of here this instant, or you’ll be in serious trouble.”

Kevin winced. It was not the way to talk with Siegfried Spallek on any occasion, much less in their current circumstance.

Kevin, Melanie, and Candace had been huddling in utter blackness in separate cells in the oppressively hot, dank jail in the basement of the town hall. Each cell had a small, arched window that opened into a window well in the rear arcade of the building. The openings were barred but without glass, so vermin could pass through unimpeded. All three prisoners had been terrified by the sounds of scampering creatures, especially since they’d seen several tarantulas before the lights had been turned out. The only source of comfort had been that they could easily talk to each other.

The first five minutes of the evening’s ordeal had been the worst. As soon as the sound of the burst of machine-gun fire died out, Kevin and the women were blinded by large hand-held lights. When their eyes had finally adjusted, they saw that they’d walked into an ambush of sorts. They were surrounded by a jeering group of youthful Equatoguinean soldiers who’d delighted in casually aiming their AK-47’s at them. Several had been brazen enough to poke the women with the muzzles of their weapons.