Warrior in the Shadows by Marcus Wynne Page A

her nose. "This needs more sugar. I'll be back. Anybody else?"
    Charley shook his head no and Kativa said, "No thank you."
    "You were born in South Africa?" Charley said.
    "Yes, actually in a suburb of Johannesburg called Bredell. I went to university in Pretoria, then Cape Town for my Ph. D."
    "Patel, that's an Indian name, isn't it?"
    "Yes. My father was of Indian descent, my mother was Portuguese."
    "So you grew up under apartheid?"
    "Yes. We were considered Colored."
    "Ah."
    "Yes," Kativa said. She looked into her coffee cup, at the fine brown café au lait that very closely matched the color of her skin. "Yes, those were hard times for everyone."
    "Is your Ph. D. in Australian art?"
    "Well, to be specific, it's in Australian Aboriginal art and ethnography."
    "What's ethnography?"
    "It's the study of Australian Aboriginal cultural heritage. It's quite fascinating. Australian Aboriginal culture is the oldest 'primitive' surviving culture we have on earth. Many of their belief systems are completely integrated in their artworks, which encompass a variety of forms. While I studied all of them, I focused on the rock art, both the engravings and the drawings. I came to that really as a fluke… I met a young man who worked for an outfitting company that took tourists on tours in the Laura River regions, looking at the rock art there. He introduced me to Percy Tracy, who is the foremost living authority, at least among whites, in the Laura region. Percy liked me, actually he loves all the girls, even though he's well into his eighties, and allowed me unfettered access to his notes and helped me quite a bit. That's how it came about for me."
    Charley reached into the battered canvas valise he'd brought with him, then took out a dark brown manila collapsible file with the Minneapolis Police logo on it.
    "Are you a policeman?" Kativa asked.
    "No, but I work for the police department. I'm a crime scene photographer, and I wanted to ask you about the images in these photos."
    "What do you do for them?" Kativa said.
    "Nothing dangerous," Charley said. His smile seemed especially amused. "That sort of police work scares me. I just take pictures."
    He handed over an 8© 10 color print. Kativa took it, then picked up her glasses, large round lenses in a frame that even when pressed in place slid down onto her nose.
    "This is a very high-quality photograph, Charley. Do you do your own developing?"
    "No. But the shop I work with does good work and they know how to work with my stuff."
    Kativa was so engrossed in the photograph she didn't notice Mara standing at the door, looking at the two of them.
    "This is very familiar," Kativa said. "The design is definitely from the Laura region, I'll tell you this… I think I may actually have seen this before."
    "What do you mean you've seen this before?" Charley said.
    "Obviously not this particular painting, but the painting this is a copy of. Or rather the rock art image."
    "Where?"
    Mara came in silently and sat down. Charley set his coffee cup down on the edge of Kativa's desk closest to him. Kativa spun her chair around and scooted to the closest bookshelf and began running her finger across the neatly organized spines of the books.
    "Here," she said with satisfaction. She pulled out a book titled Australia's Living Heritage , then flipped quickly through the well-thumbed pages till she came to one section. She skimmed it quickly and said to herself, "Not that…" then set the book down on the floor and began looking again. She plucked out a small 6© 6 bound booklet titled Quinkan Rock Art and said, "Ah. Here we go."
    She flipped through the pages and stopped at one, then handed the booklet to Charley. "That's where. It's a copy of that image."
    Charley took the booklet, pushed aside some papers on Kativa's desk, and set the booklet beside his 8© 10. The three of them compared the two. The likeness was unmistakable. The photograph in the booklet was of a figure on what appeared to be a