It was a black mamba.
She watched, mesmerized, as the long snake uncoiled on the cement floor. At first it looked like it might head down the hallway, but then it tensed and raised its head, looking in her direction. It let out a long, low hiss. She stared at it, not daring to move a muscle. She had two choices: remain on the bed in hope that the snake would find a distraction, or find a way around it and out of the apartment—but not the way the intruder had gone. The dilemma was paralyzing. A black mamba was the fastest serpent on earth. It was also a natural climber.
With glacial steadiness she reached out and retrieved her iPhone from the bedside table. The clock on the screen read 3:12 a.m. She called Joseph, praying he hadn’t silenced his mobile before turning in. He picked up on the third ring.
“Zoe, what’s happening?” he asked groggily.
She watched as the snake lowered its head and began to slither along the wall. “Someone broke into my flat,” she whispered urgently. “They left a black mamba in my room.”
He cursed under his breath. “Are they still in your apartment?”
She listened closely and heard nothing beyond the eerie susurration of the snake sliding across the floor. “I don’t know, but I don’t think so.”
“Where is the snake?”
“It’s moving toward my laundry basket.”
He inhaled sharply. “It’s probably looking for warmth. The cement is cold. If it coils up, it will stay put. I don’t want you to leave the room until I’m at your door. Do you understand?”
“What if it doesn’t coil up?”
“Use your best judgment. Give me ten minutes.” He hung up the phone.
She curled her legs beneath her and focused on the snake. It was nearly six feet long and an inch and a half in diameter. It probed the wicker cords of the laundry basket with its coffin-shaped head, its tongue spearing the air like a switchblade, before moving hesitantly into the pocket of air behind the basket. She let out the breath she was holding and glanced toward the doorway, training her ears on the apartment beyond.
She heard nothing.
The next ten minutes were the longest in Zoe’s life. The snake, once comfortable in the corner, did not stir again. Nor did she hear any sound of movement from the apartment. The mamba was clearly a warning, as was the break-in. They—whoever they were—meant to terrify her. But what did they hope to achieve? She was involved in the investigation of Darious, but she wasn’t the face of the prosecution. She was just an expat intern.
She heard the trill of an incoming text and looked at the screen.
“Outside,” Joseph wrote. “Guard with me. No cars outside gate. Intruder?”
“No,” she typed back. “Snake is quiet, too.”
“Can you get to front door?”
“Going now. Send guard back. Come alone.”
Taking a deep breath, she slipped her feet onto the chilly floor and glided stealthily to the doorway, watching the snake out of the corner of her eye. It didn’t budge. She pulled the door shut and turned to the darkened hallway, listening. She switched on the light and moved toward the entrance to the living room. She paused just beyond the threshold, wishing she had a weapon.
At last she mustered the courage to round the corner. Her eyes darted around the living area, searching the shadows for a human silhouette. Her heart hammered in her chest, but she saw only the shapes of furniture. She looked toward the kitchen and saw a reflection, actually many reflections, in the moonlight on the floor. Shattered glass, she thought.
At once she understood how the intruder had gotten in. The window over the sink had been replaced the week before, and its bars had been removed to aid the workmen. Her landlord had promised to replace them, but she hadn’t seen him in days.
She turned on the light and unlocked the front door. Joseph was waiting on the porch, holding his rifle. He entered the flat with barely a glance at her and began to search the apartment. She followed him from room to room. The look in his eyes left no doubt: he was prepared to shoot.
It took him less than a minute to satisfy himself that they were alone, but in that short span a fountain of emotion opened up in Zoe. The protection Joseph offered her was more than the product of his oath as a police officer. It was personal. When he placed his gun on the couch, she went to him and lost herself in his arms.
In time, he stepped back, his face betraying his anger. “How did they deliver the snake?”
“In a sack. It’s in the hallway.”