BOKURU

Out on the broad African savannah vultures pecked noisily at the remains of an abandoned kill that lay on the top of the bank of a small stream.  To the south, a distant rumbling grew louder as a giant cloud of dust loomed ever closer, slowly blotting out the horizon.  The vultures gave a last stab at the carcass, and then rose seeking the escape of a thermal updraft.

The first of thousands upon thousands of wildebeest galloped just ahead of the swirling dust cloud, reaching the edge of the stream below where the vultures had fed.  They stopped, hesitated momentarily, and then plunged into the water, splashing across the shallow river, then scrambled up the opposite bank.  Pressed by those that followed, they galloped out onto the open plain in their annual northerly migration.  Looming far ahead in the hazy distance was the gray cone of a long dormant volcano.      

The dream faded as Jim Henderson gradually became aware of his surroundings in the plane.  The “Fasten Set Belt” sign was flashing overhead.  Most of the passengers were sleeping.  The flight across Africa from Lagos, Nigeria had been a long one.  The voice of a stewardess gently gave them their landing off instructions.

“We are in contact with the tower at Nairobi International.  We should be in our landing approach in a few minutes.  Please fasten your seat belts.  Be sure all foldout tables are in the upright position and all loose objects are properly secured.”

Jim was a long way from his apartment on North Dearborn Avenue in Chicago, Illinois.  Since graduating from law school three years ago, he had been employed as an attorney at the small law office boutique of Grayson, Grayson, Phillips & Myers.  He remembered his meeting about the case with David Grayson, the senior partner of the firm.  It was that first meeting which led to his being on this flight half way around the world.

Jim had been called in just before noon five days ago.  When Jim stepped into the office, David Grayson was not sitting at his desk.  Instead, he was standing by the large east window, stooped forward, looking through the brass telescope that was mounted on a solid mahogany tripod by the drapes.  Through the window, he could see the blue waters of Lake Michigan.  The thirtieth floor provided a broad, open view that took in the park, the harbor, and the open lake.  The normally placid surface of the lake was stirred into a chop of white-capped waves by a light wind coming out of the north.  A single sailboat could be seen about a mile offshore.

“Jim.  Come on in.  Put your pad down for a minute and have a look,” said David Grayson.

Jim put his legal pad and pen on one of the leather guest chairs and went over to the window where his boss was looking through the telescope.  Jim’s own office was around the corner and down the hall, where the view was restricted to the adjoining office building.  David Grayson stood back so that Jim could look through the telescope.  It was focused on the sailboat.

“Is that who I think it is?”

Jim peered through the telescope.

“I can see it.  It’s a Sparkman thirty-seven.  Yes, I recognize it.  It’s Sea Serpent.”

“I thought it might be.  How can you be so sure?  I could not read the name on the back at this angle.”  

“I can see the logo.  It’s on a pennant flying from the spreader.”

“A pennant?”

“Yes, sir.  He always flies a black pennant with the head of a serpent on it.  It’s very clear, sir.  I know his boat.”  Jim stepped back so that David Grayson could take another look.

“So it is, Jim.  So it is.  It’s Sonny Chesterson.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is he in trouble out there?  I can’t tell what’s going on.  It looks like one sail is down in the water.”  He stood back so Jim could have a second look.

Jim studied the boat for a moment.  “They’re not in trouble, sir.  It’s a botched sail change.  They had a spinnaker up, and they are in the middle of putting up a jib.  They’re practicing, sir.  This is a workday.  He has new crewmembers on board.  He uses weekdays to break them in.  He’s getting ready for a race on the weekend,” said Jim, again stepping back from the telescope.

“You sound like a man who knows Sonny fairly well.”