“Chris, darling, thank you so much for taking me on this safari. We really needed to take a break away from Reid and…what was that?”
No sooner had Lu gotten the last word out of her mouth than Chris saw a flash of yellow run across an out stretched limb of the acacia tree and landed right behind Lu on the edge of the front seat of the double elephant saddle. His tail brushed against Jambi’s back. The leopard opened his mouth, snarled and flashed his enormous teeth.
“Don’t move!” Chris commanded.
As the leopard laid his ears flat and growled, he also lowered his body in position to spring. Chris found the safety on the .50 caliber pistol, clicked it off, and pulled Lu closer to him. He held the pistol behind her bare back with a bead on the big cat. The dilemma was firing at the leopard without killing Jambi in the process.
“Lu, cover your ears!” As soon as she did, Chris fired a round well above the cat and woke up the entire country of Botswana in the process. The big leopard flew off the elephant and disappeared into the brush. Animals all over the area sounded off, but Chris and Lu could barely hear anything as they were temporally deafened by the explosion of the mighty weapon.
Their troubles were not over. Cathy was scared shitless and was on a dead run back towards the marsh. Jambi slid off his perch behind the giant ears of the elephant and hung on to one of the tusks for dear life. The two lovers grabbed the sides of the basket and did their best to hold on. Two naked people being bounced in and out of the basket and their mahout hanging on to a tusk would have made a great video. However, if Jambi fell off and was trampled by the huge beast he might rather have the .50 caliber slug in him instead. As the elephant hit the water it was obvious she was going to the elephant enclosure at Abu Camp. She wanted to go it alone though, and once in the water she shook off the riders and headed for home.
Completely naked, wearing hiking boots, and dripping swamp water and weeds, Chris and Lu walked onto the back deck of the beautiful Abu Camp Lodge while the other guests were sipping drinks and eating hor d’oeuvres’. Chris had his pistol in hand and threatened to shoot anyone that laughed at them. Regardless, they all laughed. Jambi could be seen running after his elephant. Chris and Lu knew their robes would be delivered to them the next day washed, ironed, and ready for a new adventure.
Chapter 16
Elephant Rides
An elephant safari filled the next two days and nights for the guests. By day, they traveled on the backs of elephants. At night, they enjoyed first-class food and beverage service in luxury tents. On the first night, Chris and Modesto sipped bourbon and African creek water near the campfire in the bush. Some members of the group went on a guided hike.
Chris was on the satellite phone to Bruny Jean-Baptise, the head of the Haitian expedition to Africa. He was a graduate of France’s military academy and had served five years as an officer in the French Foreign Legion. Now, he was Haiti’s Military Liaison Chief, a strange title, since Haiti no longer had an official army.
“Chris, we are now in Kinshasa putting together our convoy. Most of our supplies are here, including the scuba gear and the compressor you guys wanted. Our estimate is we will be able to get our truck within twenty miles of our target. We’ll have to walk the rest of the way in. We do have a couple of copters to ferry some of the supplies to the site though. Will you guys be ready in about three or four days to meet the advance party at the airport in Kisangani?”
“Should be, Bruny, since we told the ladies we were going on our big lion hunt about that time,” Chris said.
“Good deal. We will call you about twenty four hours before we reach the target. You guys have fun on the safari.”
Modesto looked at Chris and frowned. “My sources tell me Kony’s LRA forces might be active in that part of the jungle. Don’t you think they’ll get wind of what the Haitians are up to?” Modesto shook his head. “Truckloads of mercenaries with guns strapped to their backs guided by some of the Democratic Republic of the Congo’s best soldiers. Guess what? That stuff will be communicated to everyone using everything from jungle drums to e-mail.”
“Maybe we should have made an announcement on the African five o’clock news.” Chris smiled, but he realized this was not the secret mission everyone had hoped for.
“Nothing we can do now, but I’ll put those Haitian mercenaries up against anything the Lord’s Resistance Army can throw at them. Don’t forget our friends, Jackie and Devil Man, are with our group,” Chris explained.
Jean-Jacques Boyer was called “Jackie,” and his life-long friend Heraux Dartiquenave answered only to “Devil Man.” Both of these Haitians had been rejected from hell. Jackie had an indentation on both sides of his cheek where a round had penetrated. It also knocked out teeth and jawbone. Devil Man was much worse. He had a hideous scar at the top of his right scalp that traveled down to his glazed, white eye. From the eye the scar branched off, one branch leading to an ear with a large chunk missing. The other ran down to his deformed lip. He stood over six feet six inches and weighed in at about two hundred and eighty pounds. Both of these men had proven themselves to Chris, Modesto, and Mit in battle in Haiti and the Dominican Republic. As monstrous and fearless as they were in battle, they were faithful friends. Lu loved them and had invited both to her wedding.
Loud talking and laughing signaled the return of the guests from the nature hike. Lu ran over, sat in Chris’ lap, and kissed him.
“We had fun while you boozers stayed safe by the campfire.” Lu said. She kissed him again. Gretchen went over and whispered something in Chris’ ear. Angel followed and did the same thing.
“No! They’re not going to let you go out at night on elephants after what we did.” Chris was in disbelief after getting the message from the two girls.
“Oh, yes! My man, we can go, but you and Lu are banned for life from humping on elephants. If you haven’t noticed, Cathy snorts any time you guys get near her.” Mit said.
“From now on, what you two did is going to be a “Rite of Passage” for this camp—required of all Abu Camp guests who can still get it up,” Gretchen said, laughing
Chris looked at Lu. “Well, dear, maybe we can climb a tree, and do it up there while they’re gone.”
“If the leopard will move over for us, then I’m game.” Lu sounded serious, but Chris hoped she wasn’t.
The Okavango Delta shifts from savanna flat lands with trees and bush to wet marsh lands that are green with vegetation. Chris planned this trip for the season when those contrasting environments existed. They were in the time period, after the wet season, before everything dried up and the animals migrated to areas where they might find more abundant food. The trip happened several months after the devastating earthquake in Haiti in January the same year. This earthquake gave dire importance to the alternate part of this safari vacation for the country of Haiti.
Chris had met with the captain of the old ship, the Afrik-Rev, in an attempt to learn what was going on with the gold shipments to the Ivory Coast. The old captain, Plato, was helpful, but there were still too many unsolved mysteries. After reading the original ship logs, Chris realized Papa Doc never made a single trip to Africa—not on the Afrik-Rev nor on any other ship, airplane or other mode of transportation. Research showed no record of Papa Doc ever making such a trip. His only connection to the continent was a brief visit in 1966 from Emperor Haile Selassie of Ethiopia to Haiti. The two men exchanged some sort of made up medals. Ethiopia became the only country to make an official state visit to Haiti during Papa Doc’s reign. The two rulers also exchanged gifts, and Selassie hit the road, never to return.
On every journey to the Ivory Coast, the Afrik-Rev docked outside the major city of Abidjan. Trucks met the boat and departed to places unknown with that month’s load of gold. Records indicated the trucks always numbered five. It wasn’t clear if there was enough gold to require more than one truck, but five always made an appearance. One or two Haitian government officials would tag along, and they would
disappear for several days. Presumably, they traveled hundreds of miles inland. Since none of the officials who came back on board ship ever disclosed where they went, no one really knew. These government representatives would never discuss the purpose of the trip while traveling to Africa or on the voyage back to Haiti.
The wooden crates were never opened on board. Usually, there were only ten or twelve, but when the crew came to unload them, they appeared to be heavy. Plato’s crew was not allowed to touch the crates, either in the loading or unloading process. “Property of the Haitian Government,” stenciled in French, was the only marking on the crates.
After 1966, a different sort of personnel began to make the trek with Haitian officials. Geologists took the passage along with their support personnel. They packed gear for the bush and didn’t always come back with the crew when the ship departed. At times, some of them never were seen again. These changes started happening after the Selassie and Papa Doc meeting, so in some way, the state visit to Haiti had to be connected.
Only after Chris told Plato of his planned trip to Africa, did the real truth emerge. Plato revealed he now felt confident that a real expedition was going to take place, so he gave his most secret and coveted journals to Chris. The journals far surpassed what had been written in the ship’s crusty old log and validated some of the information Chris received from his private investigators. Included were copies of Sony, Marc, and Jan’s account of the trip to the quarry. Later he would obtain John and Vikki’s handwritten journals with personal relationship passages deleted from Vikki’s entries. They told the real story of all the trips to Africa and presented an accounting of every asset that belonged to Haiti. The truth was astonishing and incredible—and could possibly help an entire country recover from a horrible earthquake. Plato had been the officer in charge of millions of dollars of assets from the very beginning. Papa Doc would trust no one else.
Angel and Mit were the first to return from the elephant ride. If huge smiles could be interpreted as “the sex was great,” then their faces said it all. Both of them just wore shorts and tee-shirts so that little time would be wasted.
“Did you guys see the leopard?” Lu asked.
“It could have been in the basket with us and we wouldn’t have noticed,” Mit said.
“He came to visit us because he was attracted to all the passion,” Chris said, laughing.
“It was Lu’s fake orgasm! He just had to see for himself,” Angel said.
Angel and Mit had been together for three years but had yet to tie the knot. Angel had been married to a rocker who wouldn’t get off of drugs; Mit’s wife was killed in a car accident back in Germany a few years back. From the time they first met there was a special connection. Maybe it was the shared pain of failed first marriages, or maybe they liked the freedom of a partnership without paperwork. In either case, they hadn’t picked a date, or discussed marriage, except when Chris, Lu, Modesto, and Gretchen pestered them.
The next elephant to lumber into camp had Modesto and Gretchen hanging over the side rails laughing and hanging their tongues out to show their exhausted pleasure. Chris and Lu were really glad those two workaholics were having a good time. Modesto had completed law school a year back and was the Dominican Republic’s assistant Attorney General with his sights on even higher public office. Gretchen had finished her residency requirement at a large teaching hospital in Santo Domingo. She joined the staff as a vascular surgeon and was in charge of every German tourist who walked through the door. Modesto stepped down as head of the D.R.’s military intelligence to go to law school. Both were at the top of their class in everything they did, and none of their other friends felt they played or had nearly enough fun. On this safari, however, they were off to a good start.
The camp staff invited everyone to sit at an elegant long table replete with candles. The glassware sparkled and the gorgeous china and silverware were in place, as it would be in the Dorchester in London or any fine hotel. In the distance, monkeys, hyenas, and an occasional far off lion would sound off for their benefit. Behind the table on both sides were magnificent tents decorated with lanterns. The setting was more than magical. Everyone just looked at each other like they were in a dream taking place in the bush in Africa.
They didn’t care to wake up.
Chapter 17
The Lion Hunt
The lion hunt would be tricky. Besides the deception they were putting over on their wives and girlfriend, the men had only three days to bag a few rogue lions and then meet up with an expedition to explore a deep blue hole in the middle of the Congo. All this in the general region where the Lord’s Resistance Army killed people for sport. Rational tourists would have stayed in camp and continued to have sex on the back of elephants.
The adventure following a three day safari had been planned for the next morning after returning to camp. After lunch the three men would be flown to an airstrip, transfer to a private jet, and fly for several hours to the airport in Kisangani, formerly known as Stanleyville. A jet helicopter would take them deep into the Congo to rendezvous with other crazy people like themselves.
A few nights previously, the phone conversation had changed everything. Chris learned the expedition they were to meet might not be on site for two or three more days. The lion hunt would have to come first.
Rogue lions and elephants have lost their habitat in so many areas of Africa that sometimes they come into villages and kill livestock and humans. Once they become man-eaters, a cycle begins that requires them to be removed by lethal means. Rangers hunt them and issue game licenses and permits for hunters or guides for a sanctioned kill. Permits are not free, but cheaper than the thirty or forty thousand dollar lion hunts that take place in some African countries. Man-eaters present a special problem. Since the lions normally attack at night or at dusk and have no fear of humans, the hunts are particularly dangerous. Such was the case in the village of Mlogulu, south of the town of Tabora in the country of Tanzania. Game wardens did not often frequent the area because it was not part of a protected game reserve. A special expedition would be called in to protect the village. Chris, Mit, and Modesto paid for the hunting permits and two guides to go with them, and the local game warden.
Their small plane landed on a dirt strip north of the village. The game warden met them and introduced himself as Frank Stiner. Behind his thick German accent was a very friendly gentleman. Frank was reaching retirement age, maybe he already had, and was just hanging in there. He was short and slightly built, and his face was wrinkled beyond his years from the African sun.
They loaded all the equipment into the Rover and waited on another Range Rover that held the experienced big game hunters the group had hired. The second car fell in behind Frank’s vehicle for the hour-long drive to the village. Most of the hilly and dry terrain looked too poor for farming or cattle raising. The land appeared desert-like except for some areas around rivers and streams that had vegetation. Maybe a goat would be happy here.
“Frank, what’s this I hear about Tanzania’s lion population being in such good shape?” asked Chris.
The game warden had given his speech so many times that the words were second nature, and would fill the time needed to reach the village.
“Tanzania has the best record for maintaining their lion population of any country in Africa, and they do it by killing lions.” He looked at the three men to see if they were shocked, but they were composed. “You duck hunters in the U.S. understand this somewhat twisted logic, since ‘Ducks Unlimited’ uses a similar conservation method. Duck hunters provide the money and direction to insure that the ducks are allowed to maintain their flyways and nesting sites. The hunters vigorously coordinate limits on types of ducks and quantities harvested with state and federal wildlife officials.
Tanzania operates a similar program with laws that only allow killing of mature male lions. The country fiercely protects females, cubs, and young male lions. Their lion population is the largest in Africa and fa
irly stable. Poaching is still a problem everywhere in Africa. Income from hunting supports the economy and funds conservation of the lions. Proposed laws in the U.S. are putting this income in jeopardy. If the United States passes a law restricting the import of lion pelts because they see lions as endangered, which they are in other countries, then Tanzania would lose sixty percent of their hunting related income.” Looking at all the men he continued. “You Americans would not come to hunt a species that you couldn’t mount on your wall back home especially after spending thousands of dollars on travel and hunting fees. This strange dilemma is something we Tanzanians understand, but the rest of the world is left scratching their collective heads.” He smiled with pride, for being so well informed.
“Uh, Frank, my man. I am not an American—German.” Mit explained.
“Frank—dude…I only went to college in the U.S. I’m Dominican.” Modesto added.
“Sorry, I guess I should have made my speech with an international flavor,” he said sarcastically.
“Arkansas is almost a third world country,” Chris said, laughing.
The two Land Rovers slowed down before they reached the village, so the red dust wouldn’t blow from under the vehicles and turn Mlogulu into another Pompei. Both vehicles came to a stop outside the thornbush barricades that surrounded the village. The scene looked like a thousand others in Africa.
This village rested in an area of Tanzania which hadn’t been converted to Christianity. Mormons, however, were active nearby so the locals needed to stay on their toes. The people of the village have clung to a strict Muslim faith, so they don’t eat wild bush pigs. Since the swine were never thinned out, the bush pigs often raid the vegetable crops grown in Muslim villages. Lions followed to prey on the pigs. Being opportunistic animals, lions had been killing and eating the villagers who were slow and catchable rather than pursuing the speedy wild pigs. Now that the big cats had developed a taste for the local natives, they had placed the villagers high on their menu of delicious and easy prey. Although the village had built bush pig fences around the crops, it was too late to stop the lions from attacking.
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