“Tell me.”
“He grabbed a gun. So, we killed him.”
“You yourself?” asked Katie, her tone eerily monochromatic.
Procenko looked her right in the eye and said, “Me. Myself. I was the one who put the bullet in his head.”
Which was when Billy’s own sister saved Billy the guilt of carrying on his back for the rest of his life another dead man, and at point-blank range shot Viktor Procenko in the chest.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Carmen Tedesco
Among the survivors of the ill-fated safari was Carmen Tedesco, whose husband, screenwriter Felix Demeter—son of legendary movie director Rex Demeter—died while struggling with one of the Russian captors. “We were all out of our element,” the actress said from her hotel in Nairobi. “This wasn’t a film set with blanks in the guns or an Ernest Hemingway short story. And so what Felix did? It was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”
—Los Angeles Times, November 26, 1964
She ran to the plane, her legs churning, and as the pilot climbed out and she saw that he was white and he wasn’t wearing a uniform—khakis and a moss-colored shooting shirt, the quilted pad against the right shoulder obvious even at a distance—the idea crossed her mind that perhaps this wasn’t part of a search and rescue team, and he was among the group that had kidnapped them. But then, right behind him, came two Black rangers in their cocoa-colored uniforms, rifles slung over their shoulders, and following them…Charlie Patton. At least she thought it was Charlie. Perhaps she was mistaken. And so she slowed to a jog, but they continued to sprint toward her, all four of them, and when she saw it really was the hunter, she fell into his arms, weeping because she wasn’t going to die out here after all.
He patted her back as one of the rangers pulled a list from his front shirt pocket and asked Charlie, “You had three women on the safari. Is this one—”
“It’s Carmen,” Charlie told him. “It’s Carmen Tedesco.”
The rangers were roughly her age, though one, who was tall and heavyset and wearing a sunhat that looked a little small for him, was clearly more senior. He was holding the paper with Charlie Patton’s manifest.
She pushed herself free of the hunter, sniffed, and still had to wipe her nose on her sleeve. “God. I thought…” I thought I was going to die out here was how she had planned to finish the sentence, but the words caught in her throat.
“You thought what?” Charlie asked.
She gathered herself and stood a little taller. “I must be pretty damn ripe,” she said, trying to make a small joke.
“Your eye,” he began, but she waved him off.
“It’s not the eye itself. At least I don’t think it is. It’s just the swelling.”
“Okay.”
“I guess I should be relieved you’re not with Movie Star Confidential.”
“For a lot of reasons,” the hunter said. “But not because of your eye.”
The shorter of the two rangers reminded them, “We have water in the plane. I’ll get some.” Then he jogged back to the aircraft.
The pilot had taken off his sunglasses and was surveying what was left of the baobab, his hands behind his back. The flames were dwindling now. “Nice work on the tree,” he said. His accent was British. “At least I’m guessing it was you who turned it into a flare.”
She nodded sheepishly.
“Carmen, this is Jack Chamberlin,” said Charlie. “Jack, meet movie star Carmen Tedesco.” The pilot gave her a small bow but kept his fingers entwined behind him.
“Are you alone out here?” Charlie asked.
She pointed at the acacia, where the vultures had returned to feast on Reggie Stout. “Reggie was with me,” she said, and her voice cracked when she said the publicist’s name.
The ranger took his rifle, planted the butt against his shoulder, and fired two quick shots in succession into the ground near the birds. They scattered instantly, flying up and around the acacia.
“When did he die?”
“A few hours ago. This morning.”
“And you’re sure he’s dead?”
Jack Chamberlin, the pilot, brought his hands from behind his back, put on his sunglasses, and said, “Jesus Christ, Charlie, your eyesight isn’t what it once was. The son of a bitch is half eaten. I think Carmen can be sure.”
“What happened?”
The other ranger returned with a canteen of water and she drank so ravenously that she coughed up great swallows. She gave him back the canteen and bent over with her hands on her knees. “God, I’m a mess,” she murmured. “I can’t even drink like a human.”