Savage Lands by Andy Briggs Page B

the entire conversation.
    The smarmy Edward had appeared and guided them across the mining site to another set of cabins. Floodlights lit the site, attracting swarms of insects, but allowing the workers to maximize their workday. Edward kept to a wooden walkway that spanned the mud. Streams of dirty water ran beneath them. Off to one side, a group of Mbuti pygmies stood up to their chests in the dirty water, hauling large dishes from the brown murk as if panning for gold.
    â€œWhat are they doing?” Jane asked Edward. Robbie recognized her tone; it was enthusiastic interest with a hint of flirting—exactly what she employed when she wanted her own way.
    Edward had obviously forgotten how curt she had been before and returned her smile. Sucker, Robbie thought.
    â€œThey’re washing the mud away so they can reach the heavier coltan beneath.”
    â€œSo they don’t actually mine it?”
    â€œNot in the way you think. Coltan is found close to the surface. Here, all you have to do is sluice the mud away and you can retrieve it. The bulldozers help shift the surface mud off, but it’s still a very labour-intensive process.”
    â€œI guess the pygmies make a lot from doing this?”
    Edward shrugged. “We pay them one hundred and fifty dollars.”
    â€œA hundred-fifty bucks a day?” asked Robbie incredulously. He suddenly thought he was in the wrong line of work.
    Edward laughed dismissively. “Per month.” He caught Jane’s horrified expression and added, “Most Congolese earn about ten dollars a month.”
    They reached the far end of the walkway and Edward took a detour that led to a large steel hopper brimming with unremarkable black stone, forming chips no bigger than gravel. Edward smiled and scooped the ore into his palm.
    â€œColumbite-tantalite. Or coltan to you and me. It’s currently selling at two hundred and thirty dollars a kilo. Sometimes the market can push it up as high as six hundred.”
    â€œYou must be proud,” said Jane, although Edward failed to detect her caustic tone.
    Edward slowly poured the coltan from his palm. “Of course. We’re out here helping technology push forward. Without this, civilization as we know it would be unable to function. We’d be back to Victorian engineering—no computers, no TV, nothing.” He carefully wiped his hand, making certain every last grain fell back into the hopper, then nodded toward a close-by cabin. “Lord Greystoke wanted you to make yourselves comfortable in here.”
    The cabin was large and empty, lined with picnic-style benches to form a utilitarian canteen for the staff. The shutters to the kitchen were down and several dirty windows cast mottled light into the room, adding to the depressed atmosphere.
    Edward hung at the door as Robbie and Jane entered. “I’ll be back soon. I’m sure Lord Greystoke will conclude his business swiftly.” He closed the door.
    Jane let out a long sigh as she leaned against a table. “This is crazy! What are we going to do?”
    â€œWhy should we do anything? If Clark wants to lead them toward a volcano, good for him. I vote we head back to camp, contact Tarzan, and tell him to keep his head down.”
    â€œYou don’t get it, do you?” said Jane, exasperated. “The volcano is where Tarzan took his family. That’s where the new feeding grounds are, and now we’re gonna lead Sir Stuck-up right to them!”
    Robbie peered through the window. He couldn’t see much due to the thick grime coating it, just Edward’s receding back as he crossed the walkway.
    â€œGreystoke said he wasn’t really interested in Tarzan,” said Robbie thoughtfully. “I don’t trust that Edward guy,” he added as he lost sight of the man.
    â€œHe’s a slimeball, just like Greystoke. And I don’t believe a word Greystoke said either. His dad was desperate to find Tarzan.