African Ice by Jeff Buick Read Free Book Online Page B

watched. She had seen the aftermath much more clearly four years ago. The hatred still embodied in the Tutsi people as they strove to live alongside the Hutus, who had randomly killed over 800,000 of their brethren. And the fear in the Hutus. The massive refugee movement had been just returning from the Congo as she worked on her doctorate in geology. Two worlds so far apart, she thought. The other was her life in New York, with the penthouse and money in her bank accounts. Anything she wanted was available, providing she had the cash. But not here.
    Central Africa could not provide for its people. And what it did provide often proved deadly. Floods in the rainy season washed away entire villages and poisoned the water supply with human feces. Drought in the dry season killed the cattle and starved the masses that lived hand to mouth. Malaria was rampant in the forested areas, and the temperatures on mountaintops were cold. Even snow was possible. She wondered how anyone could survive here.
    They pulled up in front of the Meridien Kigali Hotel Umubano on the Boulevard de L’Uhunganda. The hotel was a testament to what the local business community could do if given a chance. It wasn’t a new structure, but was well kept and nicely renovated. The facade was white stucco with adobe brick highlights. Generous arches welcomed the traveler into the foyer, where a fountain gurgled softly with crystal-clear water. McNeil headed straight for the concierge desk, and returned a minute later looking pleased.
    â€œI need a few things, and our concierge tells me there will be no problem getting them. Remind me to tip him well when we leave.”
    Samantha followed him into the lobby and across the tile floor to the registration desk. The clerk was efficient by Rwandan standards, and they had their rooms in under a half hour. McNeil pointed at the restaurant as they made for the stairs.
    â€œLunch?” he asked, glancing at his watch. “It’s almost two o’clock.”
    â€œSounds great,” Samantha responded. “Okay to eat here?”
    â€œYou’re the one who’s been to Kigali before. Didn’t you stay here?”
    â€œBriefly. Headed from the airport into the jungle. None of this five-star decadence for me.”
    He grinned as he pulled a chair back for her. The hotel was okay, but certainly not five-star. She sat and a moment later their waiter appeared. They ordered drinks and Samantha said, “I don’t know much about you, except that you were born in San Antonio and spent time with the SEALs when you grew up; being macho and saving the world. Anything else you’d like to add?”
    He grinned again. “If I leave it like that, I’ll come off a lot better than if I start telling stories,” he said. “I’m a bit of a klutz.”
    â€œReally,” she said, interested. “How so?”
    â€œOh, like the time I fell out of an airplane.”
    â€œFell or jumped?”
    â€œJumped. But my parachute screwed up. It folded in on itself at about a thousand feet, and I hit the ground like a lumpy meteorite.”
    â€œThey usually burn up,” she pointed out.
    â€œThat didn’t happen, but I did break one hundred seventeen bones. And spent the next year in a hospital. I haven’t jumped since.”
    â€œThat’s why you didn’t want to fly into Butembo from Kinshasa. You’re scared of flying.”
    â€œFlying doesn’t bother me. It’s what can happen if the plane stops flying when it’s supposed to be flying. Parachuting from a crippled plane into the Congo rain forest is dangerous. In fact, it’s probably one of the top ten extreme sports on the planet.”
    She looked thoughtful. “How about something a bit more personal about the kid from San Antonio—what your parents did, that kind of thing.”
    He fumbled in his breast pocket for his cigarettes. He tapped the bottom of the package and