professorship at Yale. I’ll be an even bigger fish next year.”
She stared at him. “But how on earth could that work? You’re the one … you and Richard were the ones who set this whole thing in motion.”
He cracked more ice with his teeth. “You’d be surprised how money talks, money and imagination. Sutton and I have been conferring. Maybe our interests coincide. If Ndekei is convicted and sentenced to hang, there will almost certainly be trouble, political violence, on a small scale maybe but newsworthy. And there’ll be an appeal. That will provide a focus for further trouble. Richard Sutton Senior will then intervene and say that, justice having been done with a guilty verdict, he will campaign for the commutation of the death sentence and that, as a mark of respect for his son, who committed a blunder—but no more—he wants to help the tribe. He will donate several millions to whatever causes the Maasai hold dear but only so long as they spare the gorge, which from now on will be excavated by Americans chosen by Richard Sutton Senior.”
“You’d do all that? Will it work?”
“I don’t know. What I do know is that Marongo is a political animal and that Richard Sutton Senior has funded politicians and political campaigns in the past, in New York City and in Washington. He is not, shall we say, without experience, hardly wet behind the ears. I remember saying in one of my letters—one of my letters that you didn’t reply to, by the way—that Sutton was a man who makes things happen, and to beware. I was right and you were warned.”
Across the bar some of the British journalists were gathering, men who had been at the press conference. One or two looked in Natalie’s direction but she did her best to ignore them.
“Russell, when Richard Sutton Senior came to the camp, with his wife, he said some very unpleasant things—”
“Yes, he’s not the choirmaster type, is he?”
“That’s unfair and unkind and it’s not what I meant. He threatened me, he threatened me, he actually boasted about some of the … unorthodox things he has done in the past, corners he has cut, toes he has trodden on, and he guaranteed to make my life a misery if I didn’t give evidence. He had me followed to Lamu, as you well know, because, presumably, he thought I might abscond, something that never crossed my mind.” She paused. “Are you sure … are you certain you want to be mixed up with that sort of person, that sort of … roughneck?”
“Hmm,” growled Russell dismissively. “All he wants from you is that you testify. Since you are going to do that there’s no problem—”
“No problem? You’ve seen the lengths he’ll go to, to ensure I do testify. This is a man … a man who isn’t shy of taking the law into his own hands.”
“Which, as I seem to recall, is exactly what Ndekei did.” He snorted again. “So we are all square there. But—” he went on as she tried to protest, “I agree that Sutton Senior is the type who knows how to—well, cut corners, shall we say, when it’s needed. But where his son is concerned there’s a difference. If he can’t have his son alive, then he wants his memory up there in lights—respectable, academic, professional lights, and my plan has tickled his imagination and sense of power. He doesn’t like Eleanor Deacon any more than I do, or her view that the gorge is more important than his son.” Russell wiped his lips with a paper napkin. “So get used to the idea that, over the next few weeks, this whole can of worms is going to slither and slide and writhe out of control, with one of only two possible results, assuming you give evidence. One, the Maasai will destroy and reoccupy the gorge; or … two, I will take over and you lot will be out in the cold—on your way, dare I say it, to becoming fossils.”
He paused, to let this sink in.
“Of course, all this doesn’t necessarily apply to you. Through it all, Natalie, you say you have never wavered, about your testimony, and I have never wavered in my feelings about you. That must mean something—and one of the things it means is that there’s still time for you to change sides.” He leaned forward and touched her knee. “I know you went to Lamu with Jack Deacon and you know I