Three hours later we arrive back at the camp on the Zambezi. It is late where she is but Ishmael calls the baby-wanting lady from his satellite phone, borrowed from a friend specifically for the trip. She tells him everything is well back home.
“Kids are well. They miss you. Your parents are fine. X, Y and Z came up but I took care of it. I got the money from M. I checked in with your office and everything was running smoothly.”
Ishmael, obviously relieved, sauntered back into camp where dinner was being served and downed three drinks in lieu of said dinner and then switched over to wine. When everyone got done with their desserts, Ishmael was ready to talk. There, I couldn’t believe it, but he opened up to Lin a bit – told him a few stories of the old days – stories I had only heard him speak of to one other person – the blue collar worker in Maryland. Of course, he didn’t tell them all but he did tell some and I suspect he was trying to give an explanation to Lin of why he was the way he was.
I always liked hearing the old stories. I couldn’t tell if Lin did or not but he only gave him a taste. Nowhere near as much as he and the blue collar worker discuss some nights long after the lady and children go to bed. They’ll talk of the animals shot – 100's of them. And then it will get weirder and I can only make out certain words like “spoonbills” and “caviar,” “Russians,” “alligator hides,” and “55 gallon drums,” and then there was that one night that it got really dark and sinister and I heard some things I wish I hadn’t.
“Detroit”
“Prince so and so”
“You broke Rule 1” and several other things I don’t feel comfortable publishing. And then afterwards it got really strange and quiet and he and the worker didn’t talk again for quite some time and when Ishmael finally went to bed that night, the bottle was much lighter than it normally was.
I’ll hear other conversations too when he’s in his study at night. Conversations with a former coworker I'm guessing. They’ll talk of old cases – 1000's of them. Most of these conversations seem fun and lighthearted as do the aforementioned conversations of the shot animals and the snippet he gave Lin.
There are also of course text messages to which I’m not privy. I get the feeling it’s to a group of perhaps three others. Peers of some sort but like the sinister conversation from before I get the feeling that these are not enjoyable. I cannot imagine what they are about. My magazine tells me they center around illegal activities but I know Ishmael is too smart to leave such an easily traceable electronic trail. I can only tell you that after these messages, Ishmael doesn’t thumb through his elephant books and, as described before, the bottle will take a beating.
But there are no more conversations tonight on the Zambezi. Lin has long since gone to bed and Ishmael zig-zags to his room, asks Siri to wake him in exactly 2 hours and 10 minutes and pours himself into bed.
“Kids are well. They miss you. Your parents are fine. X, Y and Z came up but I took care of it. I got the money from M. I checked in with your office and everything was running smoothly.”
Ishmael, obviously relieved, sauntered back into camp where dinner was being served and downed three drinks in lieu of said dinner and then switched over to wine. When everyone got done with their desserts, Ishmael was ready to talk. There, I couldn’t believe it, but he opened up to Lin a bit – told him a few stories of the old days – stories I had only heard him speak of to one other person – the blue collar worker in Maryland. Of course, he didn’t tell them all but he did tell some and I suspect he was trying to give an explanation to Lin of why he was the way he was.
I always liked hearing the old stories. I couldn’t tell if Lin did or not but he only gave him a taste. Nowhere near as much as he and the blue collar worker discuss some nights long after the lady and children go to bed. They’ll talk of the animals shot – 100's of them. And then it will get weirder and I can only make out certain words like “spoonbills” and “caviar,” “Russians,” “alligator hides,” and “55 gallon drums,” and then there was that one night that it got really dark and sinister and I heard some things I wish I hadn’t.
“Detroit”
“Prince so and so”
“You broke Rule 1” and several other things I don’t feel comfortable publishing. And then afterwards it got really strange and quiet and he and the worker didn’t talk again for quite some time and when Ishmael finally went to bed that night, the bottle was much lighter than it normally was.
I’ll hear other conversations too when he’s in his study at night. Conversations with a former coworker I'm guessing. They’ll talk of old cases – 1000's of them. Most of these conversations seem fun and lighthearted as do the aforementioned conversations of the shot animals and the snippet he gave Lin.
There are also of course text messages to which I’m not privy. I get the feeling it’s to a group of perhaps three others. Peers of some sort but like the sinister conversation from before I get the feeling that these are not enjoyable. I cannot imagine what they are about. My magazine tells me they center around illegal activities but I know Ishmael is too smart to leave such an easily traceable electronic trail. I can only tell you that after these messages, Ishmael doesn’t thumb through his elephant books and, as described before, the bottle will take a beating.
But there are no more conversations tonight on the Zambezi. Lin has long since gone to bed and Ishmael zig-zags to his room, asks Siri to wake him in exactly 2 hours and 10 minutes and pours himself into bed.
)
