The obvious copyright warnings still reply.

CHAPTER TWELVE

March 18 2001

John had read up on the Sect, pouring over the journals of the policemen who had extracted the confession from the villagers who told of rites so horrifying that it took the numerous bottles of whiskey, as well as being tied to one's chair to prevent one from doing injury to oneself. The facts were that horrible.

Now every civilized man back in the nineteen hundreds knew that the human sacrifices were part of the savage nature, but some things were beneath even what the basest of men would do. However, these were simple people, who had been misled and so the Kenyan police gave them time in jail rather than the death penalty considering this a matter of native justice. The sentence still seemed rather severe until John (who had grown up in a small village and knew what it was like to be ignorant of what was civilized behavior) learned that the police let the men out during the weekends and around harvest. Considering this was in 1890, they got off quite well.

Making this Isaiah trust him, however, was another matter and there were no white lions in the Wild life parks or zoos in the area.

"This is a strange country and why are we not in our homeland?" he asked.

"Why are you far from our country?"

John shrugged. He had memorized the crimes of the man he was impersonating. It was a series of petty crimes finally increasing to manslaughter and smuggling. The FBI wanted him to be a man who they considered dangerous but not quite. They wanted their man to be a follower rather than a leader. "I came to escape from the police. They mistake me for another man."

"I see." Isaiah was smart. He had seen the fake wanted poster the Kenyan authorities had put out on this man. "Perhaps we can rectify this error. And you can return home."

"Maybe, but why are you here?"

To this, Isaiah signaled the waitress and gave her a five-dollar bill. She came back with a newspaper. He quickly thumbed through it until he reached the foreign news section. "They are trying to mate two lions, both with the particular makeup here in New York."

"Why would they do that?"

"Because I asked them to," said Isaiah bringing out a card from his wallet.

John read it and handed it back. "So you're a Veterinarian. No wonder and none were unaware."

Isaiah smiled. "We must be ready for a new set of sacrifices."

John could not wait to contact the VCTF. He sat down nursing his drink, waiting until Isaiah had to go to the washroom, but so far, the man did not move so both men sat across from each other, each trying to see what made the other tick.

He noticed the other man had something in his jacket. It looked like a gun, but John was not sure. Now how could he get Isaiah to trust him? John thought of the information the two agents had given him, in case he could not exactly make contact. He knew that if he got on the phone, Isaiah would be right besides him, listening to his call.

"Excuse me, I must make a phone call," he said. Yes, being forthright is always the best way, thought John as he walked towards the telephone box.

"You have just arrived and you must make a phone call?" asked Isaiah as he watched John dial the numbers. .

John grinned. "I met a girl on the plane. She gave me her number."

"Careful of these American girls."

"She's from Kenya as well."

"Oh." Isaiah gave him a wink. "A virgin?"

"No, she has a husband but he is lazy. You understand we only have certain times together." He dialed the number. 'Hello darling. John here, from the plane—tonight?" He looked over at Isaiah who winked and nodded. "Of course—I'm in heaven. Is that not an American song?"

Isaiah put his ear close to the phone and heard the small love talk. Suddenly his ears rang from the slamming of a door and John got a little pale.

"I'll hang up right away," he said and whispered to Isaiah. "Her husband's just got home. I guess our rendezvous' is off."

On the other end of the call, Rachel Burke hung up the phone. "You sure played the angry husband, Jarod," she said.

"I've had plenty of practice."

"Pretending to be a husband?"

"No, being angry."