Ghost of Africa

by Chuck Van Soye

  Before leaving the Rio’s lobby, Zhu asked the concierge to suggest a restaurant for lunch near the bank. “If you like hamburgers and craft beer, RocoMamas is just a block away,” was his response.

  En route, Bret contacted TD and briefed him on Mia’s call. They agreed to meet for lunch at the RocoMamas Gastropub to coordinate their respective responsive actions. He then phoned Chu.

  “Babe, we need your help once again. Please arrange transportation and hotel for Zhu and me to Bangui, the city capital of the Central African Republic. We need to be there ASAP, but no later than six days from now. Presumably, that’s where and when the Stinger has to be shipped as well.”

  “I can do that,” she said, but I’ve been waiting to tell you for more than a week about an idea I’ve had. You’ve always cut me off to respond to a door knock or to answer another phone or some other excuse. Please tell me you have time to listen now. I think it’s important to our mission and your safety.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Babe. It wasn’t intentional. I’m anxious to hear any of your great ideas.”

  “Well, here it is. We should use LRAD to protect you and Zhu and help capture Kunga.”

  “Huh?”

  “Here’s one possible scenario. Assume you and the dummy Stinger eventually make it to Kunga’s jungle hideout. Soon after, it’s my bet, he’s gonna want to personally inspect it and see it work.”

  “Yeah, quite likely.”

  “He may just grab it out of your hands and aim at something. But then, if he pulls the trigger, nothing happens; no missile goes flying out. Instantly he knows it’s a fake, and your goose is cooked.

  “If, however, when he pulls the trigger, he and everyone else nearby become temporarily incapacitated, stone-deaf, and confused. You and Zhu get a chance to live a few more minutes, and possibly to capture him.”

  “I like the second scenario. How do you propose to make that happen?”

  “We employ a miniature LRAD device hidden inside the FIM-92E Stinger.”

  “Doesn’t sound feasible.”

  “It is. I found that there was a small, lightweight, portable LRAD system commercially available. It’s officially designed for voice communications up to 600 meters away, and for small crowd control. Up close, like a yard or two away from the system speaker, hidden behind the Stinger’s right-side antenna grid, it’d be ten times louder than a bullhorn. If electronically modified to make it even more effective, it might be able to force nearby people to their knees.”

  “Can you really get it to fit within the dummy?”

  “I’ve already discussed it with Quality and a guy who works there, who’s also an electronics nut. They think it’d be relatively easy, but only if they incorporate the changes now, before they finish the machining work.”

  “By all means, get it done.”

  “It’ll cost another $7000, but Julien’s already committed to spend more as needed.”

  “Chu, you never cease to amaze me. We still make a pretty good team together, you as the brains and me as the . . . well never mind.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  RokoMamas Gastropub, Rockwill Square, Klerksdorp

  As they walked through the door, Zhu said, “This place reminds me of the TGIF I used to frequent during my college days . . . walls full of color, huge windows, wooden plank tables, and orange-painted metal chairs. Fridays had beer; hope this burger joint does too.”

  Bret ordered a bottle of Tusker beer, “’Africa’s favorite lager since 1922,’ according to the waiter.”

  Zhu made an ugly face and said, “Tusker sucks. I’ll have a Skeleton Coast IPA.”

  TD arrived minutes later. The menu choices were smashburgers, ribs or hot chicken wings. Everyone enjoyed their respective selections as well as the unique ambience of South Africa’s “Most Instagrammed Restaurant.”

  Bret turned the casual mealtime chitchat to a serious side. “TD, the small talk and food’s been great, but we’ve got another plateful of real issues to digest: Mia and Zuluka came to our room again; the missile demo is in the works; $60 grand’s in the bank; and our dummy weapon’s being redesigned.”

  TD added, “I’ve got a couple more to add to the list: making you a mobile GPS, and devising a rescue plan for you two.”

  “I’ll start,” said Bret. “Mia and Zuluka have become convinced that we can supply the Stinger system. They paid in advance for the missile that’ll be fired during an upcoming demonstration, presumably in the presence of Kunga. Both Zhu and I will be present. I’ve already deposited the check in our bank account.”

  “Now here’s the interesting part. Zhu and I have been instructed to be situated in Bangui, CAR within the next six days, and to have the Stinger dummy delivered there.”

  “The Central African Republic!” exclaimed TD, a little too loudly, even for a noisy place like RocoMamas. Several Afrikaners turned in their chairs to see the source. “Holy cow,” he continued with a now-hushed voice, “you couldn’t have picked a more dangerous out-of-the-way place on the face of the earth.”

  “Well, we didn’t pick it; they did. Chu is currently making our travel and hotel reservations. We’ll be contacted there and given further instructions before the end of the six-day period.”

  TD added, “The U.S. Department of State constantly puts out CAR travel advisories that warn ‘Do NOT go there due to rampant violent crime.’ So help me, the three advisory rules for travelers that insist on going there anyway are: ‘1. Draft a will; 2. Leave DNA samples with your doctor; and 3. Appoint one family member as the main point of contact.’”

  “What’s the point-of-contact for?” asked Zhu.

  “The person that hostage-takers, media, government agencies and Members of Congress can contact if you are taken hostage or just disappear.”

  “I’m not sure we ought to be doing this, Bret.”

  “Sure we should. Don’t you go getting cold feet on me, Bro. Besides, being taken hostage might be an interesting experience. Something you could tell your kids about. That’s if you ever have any. Clearly, we’re gonna be there in the next day or two anyway, like it or not.”

  “What’s the story on the Stinger redesign?” asked TD.

  “Gotta hand it to my sweet wife. She’s figured out a way to help save our necks once we’re in the LRA’s camp. She developed a way to put an LRAD in the dummy system. When Kunga pulls the trigger, that sound cannon will incapacitate everyone except Zhu and me, because we’ll have special ear plugs on. The bad guys’ll all be deaf and dazed.”

  TD smiled and said, “What if all the bad guys put fingers in their ears?”

  “Won’t help much because LRAD is directional, and we’ll have most of them corralled right in front of Zhu, directly adjacent to the speaker.”

  “Incredible! If it really works, that’d be a great time for the good guys to come charging in for the capture and rescue mission. Timing would be critical. Does she really think an LRAD can be put into that relatively small dummy?”

  “Yup. Already has Quality Welding incorporating it. Should be ready to ship in less than two days.”

  “I gotta get on the horn with Baker and brief him on this design change. It presents a real opportunity to save your asses. He now has a much clearer path to work with military commanders, marshal the assets and develop and coordinate a plan with you two.

  “Before I leave, I want you both to know I’m all in on this deal. I’ll be physically there somewhere when all this goes down.”

  Zhu asked, “TD, what’s in that bag you’ve had on your lap all through lunch.”

  “Oh, thanks. I almost forget it in all the excitement I’ve felt. One of the items is a specially designed shirt for you Bret. It has a GPS sensor/transmitter hidden between cloth layers in the right shirttail. The left one has a pressure-sensitive switch to turn the three-hour battery on. All of the seams leading to your neck enclose an antenna wire. Don’t activate it until you’re moving close to Kunga’s camp. ”

  “
That’s clever and somewhat comforting.”

  “Also in this bag is a pair of worn jungle shoes for you to wear. GPS gizmo’s are built into the heels. Between these three GPS’s, we think we’ll be able to track you anywhere, even if you get on a plane. Satellites will keep watch on your every move.”

  “Really impressive,” said Zhu. “I’m gonna stay right next to you, Bro.”

  TD added, “I’ll soon meet you both in Bangui to go over last-minute details, and synchronize timing with whatever military team shows up.”

  “Okay, but don’t run off just yet, TD. Tell us what you think Baker and his rescue resources are planning. We don’t expect every little detail, but it’d sure be nice to get some idea of a likely overall scenario.”

  “I don’t think anything is firm yet, other than they’re gonna do whatever’s necessary to get you guys out while capturing Kunga, or at least putting him out of business.”

  “Who’ll be coming to this party. Who’s ‘they,’ the good guys?”

  “There’s been some disagreement between the service commanders, each wanting the glory that’ll accrue to their branch for a successful capture. Right now, says Baker, the Army’s Green Berets seem to have the upper hand over the Seals.”

  “I’ve always believed in ‘the more the merrier,’ said Zhu.”

  “In special ops, it doesn’t always work that way,” said TD. “Too many people can trip over one another, and transit secrecy demands the minimum that can do the job. You can only fit so many fighters into a chopper.”

  “Is that how our rescue guys arrive? Helicopters?”

  “Whoa, you’re getting ahead of me. I don’t know how the whole operation comes down. They’re still planning it. You gotta trust and be patient. I’ll let you know everything I know during that final meeting in Bangui.”

  Bret and Zhu looked at each other with raised eyebrows, both wondering, What have we gotten ourselves into?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  O. R. Tambo International Airport, Johannesburg

  “Wake up, Zhu! We’re here,” said Bret as he was paying their fare and tip to the taxi driver that brought them from Klerksdorp.”

  “Umph,” mumbled Zhu as he sat up from the back-seat prone position he’d maintained for their nearly three-hour trip. “Cripes, it’s midnight. What a crummy time to be arriving at an airport. Why couldn’t we have flown in the daytime?”

  As they entered the Kenyan Airways terminal, Bret responded, “We could have, Bro. The plane we’re flying is a fourteen-hour redeye, stopping in Nairobi and arriving in Bangui at 3:20 p.m. today. Chu said our next best choice would have been an eighteen-hour trip. It would have left late afternoon tomorrow, flown all night with another layover in Nairobi, and arrived near noon the day after.”

  “I guess I agree. Four hours fewer in the air and a day sooner makes sense. Chu’s always right. Damn, that’s the way she was when we were kids. Always right.”

  “It didn’t take me too long after I married her to learn the same lesson. I resisted, but ended up paying a penalty one way or another. Now I just roll along with the flow.”

  “I’m still sleepy Bro. If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk any more about my sister. As soon as we board, I’m gonna get more shuteye. You should too, while we can.”

  Fourteen hours later, their Boeing 737 made its final approach for landing at Bangui M’Poko International Airport. Flying low over this capital city of the CAR, Bret was able to peer down and see most of the entire old colonial town, still retaining its planned wide boulevards leading towards a central market square. He’d read online that Bangui was home to some 750,000 people, about the size of Portland, and could see that, unlike Portland, the flat city sported only a handful of tall buildings, most likely hotels, and one large cathedral.

  “On entering M’Poko’s terminal, they walked towards the ‘Transportation’ sign. Bret asked the agent for directions to the Noubangui Hotel, per Chu’s reservations.”

  “Bangui’s five-star accommodations are in the Hotel Ledger Plaza, and it is within walking distance from here, Sir.”

  “We already have reservations at the Noubangui, but thanks for your suggestion.”

  “The Noubangui is only three-star, Sir, and most foreigners seem to prefer the Ledger’s luxury features, especially the swimming pool.”

  “Again, thanks for your helpfulness, but the Noubangui will be fine.”

  “Getting to the Noubangui will require a taxi ride. May I call one for you, Sir.”

  * * *

  Lee Double Room at Hotel Noubangui, Bangui, CAR

  When Chu made the Noubangui reservations, she’d requested a suite, but learned that the hotel’s only provision for two unmarried adults was adjoining one-bedroom units with a connecting inner door.

  “How disappointing,” said Bret, when inspecting their rooms. “We’ve been spoiled by all the luxurious suites we’ve rented since leaving the states. No bar and comfy sofa here.”

  “Yeah, when I threw my suitcase on the bed, a cloud of dust blew up.”

  “Not much in the way of decorations either. Just grey walls, dirty white curtains and one cheap 8X12 picture of a lion.”

  “We should have listened to that guy at the airport, even if he was shilling for the Ledger Plaza. This place is a dump! Didn’t Chu read the Noubangui reviews before she made our reservations here?” asked Zhu. “I just pulled them up online. Listen to this review:”

  ‘Stay away from this place if possible. . . tiny, rundown, unsecure and pretty much dirty...I had no other choice but to stay there for 3 nights... room on the 12th floor gave a breath taking view, however elevator did not work 90% of the time.’

  “Here’s another two-star:”

  ‘Take a concrete monstrosity with 1980s technology and decor, stick it in the jungle and let it rot for 30 years: Voila, you get the sorry, derelict, dilapidated Noubangui. The elevator is highly erratic and often out of order. I had to change rooms twice.’

  “Zhu, for Pete’s sake, before you criticize Chu, remember that we gave her only a six-day window. In that time, she had to work with Quality Welding to redesign the Stinger dummy to accommodate an LRAD inside, to complete its fabrication and to get it shipped here. Somewhere during that process, she also found a way to transport us to Bangui, and reserve a place to sleep too. For all we know, she may have tried to get us into the Ledger, but found it sold out.”

  “Sorry Bro, I was being self-centered. She really did do good. We’ll likely be here only a day or two anyway.”

  “It’s dinnertime. Let’s go downstairs and have a drink at the bar and a bite to eat in the restaurant.”

  “Not in this hotel’s restaurant! One of the other reviewers claimed she ordered a grilled chicken and ‘got something resembling chicken bones and burned skin, with some fat.’”

  “Zhu, we gotta eat, but I’m not willing to go looking for a friendly neighborhood restaurant while ignoring TD’s warnings about rampant violent crime in the streets here, especially at night. So, if we imbibe enough bar booze in advance, the food here might even seem palatable.”

  “Just don’t order chicken.”

  “I’m gonna play it safe and order vegetables only.”

  ”I just realized something. Eating here has a hidden advantage. We’ll be able to go to bed earlier. I need lots of sleep to recover from that redeye.”

  Just then, there was a knock on the door. Bret opened it to find a note pinned on its exterior. It read: “There’s a package for you at the DHL office, Centrafricque Sarl Avenue Barthelemy Boganda BP 2256.”

  “Great news!” shouted Bret, as he shut the door and then read the note’s message aloud to Zhu, adding, “Hurray for Chu. She got that dummy Stinger here on time.”

  “You sound surprised? We both knew she’d do it. We can go get it in the morning. Right now I really want the first of those many drinks. Coming?”

  Both men had several drinks, and then an acceptable dinner. On returning to t
heir room, Zhu immediately collapsed on his bed. Before retiring, Bret sent a short email home congratulating Chu.

  During the night, he was briefly awakened by the noise of an angry mob in the streets below. He was too sleepy to get up to investigate.

  In the morning, they left to retrieve the DHL shipment. As they walked through the lobby towards the front desk, they had to navigate around a pile of broken glass being swept up. The source of the glass appeared to be a shattered street window.

  “What happened to the window?” they asked.

  “The damn looters were out there again last night, a whole mob of them ranging up and down the street smashing and grabbing whatever they could. Happens every couple weeks.”

  “Don’t the police stop them?” Zhu asked.

  “Ha, none work at night. Too dangerous.”

  Bret and Zhu exchanged shocked glances. “Well, we need to go to DHL to pick up a package. Can you help us arrange transportation?”

  “We have a part-time handyman that owns a pickup truck. He’ll do it for a fee.”

  “What would a roundtrip cost us?”

  “He charges 2000 for anywhere in town.”

  “Dollars?”

  “No, CFA. Central African Francs. Less than four dollars.”

  Bret and Zhu picked up the two crates without incident. On the way back, however, they heard a siren coming up fast behind them. Anticipating he’d need it soon, the driver pulled out his wallet.

  Oh no, not a problem now when we’ve got that dummy weapon aboard flashes through Bret’s thoughts. They’ll want to see what’s in the crates. We’re toast.

  Zhu is also dismayed. “Just when everything was going so right,” he moaned.

  The driver slowed and pulled over. The Bangui police car sped by.

  * * *

  Lee Double Room at Hotel Noubangui, Bangui, CAR

  “Are we going to remove it from the crates?” Zhu asked.