Free The Chimera Sequence by Elliott Garber Page A

saw a slender white hand pushing through the tent flaps.
    “Excuse me, Miss—” The guard’s voice was firm.
    “Get your filthy hands off me!” The woman’s hand drew back through the flaps. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
    Olsson stood up.
    “No, he doesn’t. And neither do I, for that matter.” He glanced one more time at the open message on his computer screen before walking to the front of the tent. “It’s okay, Pierre, you can let her in.”
    Just what he needed, some distant cousin of the royal family who fancied herself a writer. Couldn’t she have gone chasing rhinos in South Africa instead? God knows they needed all the help they could get. But no, this second-tier future duchess would take nothing less than the deepest heart of darkness for her big breakthrough story as a serious journalist.
    Claire Clifford, only child and heir apparent of the Earl of St. Andrews. Did she really think he would be impressed? Ha. But if she wanted a story, it was hard to go wrong with the mountain gorillas. They had been tugging at the heartstrings and pocketbooks of the adoring Western world for a hundred years.
    She wasn’t bad to look at, though. Olsson fixed his eyes on the back end of the woman’s skinny jeans as she turned to leave his tent. Yes, he would be quite happy to spend a few days showing her around. In three months he’d already slept his way through what was left of Goma’s female expats, but he wasn’t quite ready to start breaking the official prohibition on romantic interludes with his colleagues at the field hospital. This feisty royal visitor could not have come at a better time.
    “So you really thought you would be able to get up into the park to see the gorillas?”
    She might be pretty, but she clearly didn’t understand the realities of war in central Africa. Olsson nodded to the guards as he left the tent.
    “I may be new to this journalism game, Dr. Olsson, but I’m not ignorant of the advantages that come along with my family’s connections.”
    “Call me Lars, please.” He could play nice, when he wanted to. The doctor slowed his pace slightly so her Ladyship would not have to jog quite so obviously beside him. “And yet, you do seem to be ignorant of the fact that we are in the Belgian Congo. This is not Kenya, or Uganda, or another one of your cousin’s former colonies.”
    He glanced at his guest to appreciate the effect of his words, then continued on. “I can guarantee you that your family’s name and history are meaningless to the average rebel commander staking his claim here in North Kivu province.”
    They stopped outside the main entrance to the large hospital tent.
    “Lars, darling, if that’s what you prefer.” Her facial muscles relaxed into a practiced smile as she stepped forward to place a hand on his arm. “Thank you for the history lesson. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that there are in fact no former Danish colonies here in Africa, or anywhere else in the world, for that matter.”
    “If you say so,” he replied with a smile. He couldn’t care less about the relative lack of empire-building ambition among his forebears, and he would wait for another day to remind her of Greenland and the Faroes.
    “I’m also aware of certain other advantages I have that often help to open closed doors in a world so unapologetically run by men.”
    Olsson felt her hand tighten in a gentle squeeze. She released slightly and let her fingers slip down over his tanned arm.
    “And a week of closed doors here in Goma has left you ready to start playing with these advantages?”
    She brushed a strand of strawberry blond hair behind an ear and crossed her arms over her chest. “You only wish it were so easy, don’t you, doctor?”
    “Oh, I’m not worried about myself, Claire.” This was a lie, of course, but he wasn’t going to crawl into her lap so easily. “You should be careful with those tender touches, though. Some of the locals might not like