Amir Ngeze was one of those men. Powerful, and now into his late sixties with short white hair, his dark face and eyes resembled anything but a killer.
But inwardly Ngeze was, in fact, the very embodiment of corruption and death. He was a man well-known for his unforgiving ruthlessness and feared by everyone who knew him.
However, to Ngeze, the “genocide” was nothing of the sort. To him, it was the cleansing of a virulent pest. One responsible for the infestation and downfall of their once great country. A country that was now overrun with them.
But as dark as Ngeze was, he was also a man of extreme patience. The day would come when the tide would turn once more––when the Hutu would reclaim their country and their birthright, and God willing, Amir Ngeze might become their next president.
Ngeze was certain of the resurgence. Because unlike the Tutsi, he had something that no one else did.
Now dressed in ornate, embroidered clothing of red and gold, Amir Ngeze stood in a large, beautifully decorated courtyard with hands placed calmly behind his back––staring down at a man on his knees, sobbing.
The elitist watched while the man begged for his life, and he shook his head with a look of pity. He inhaled and let his eyes rise to scan the walls of his complex, peering out over the five-meter-high walls at the lush green mountains beyond.
“What did you see?” he asked in a low voice.
But the man on the ground did not hear him over his own pleas.
“I said,” Ngeze repeated impatiently, “what did you see?”
Now the man stopped and squinted upwards. His eyes filled with tears and a trace of spittle dripped from his lips. “Nothing! I saw nothing! I swear it!”
Ngeze’s cold eyes darted to one of his own men, standing next to him. He was dressed in red crimson fatigues. The color of blood.
Ngeze’s soldier shook his head silently.
Why were the lower class so extraordinarily stupid? he thought to himself. Why was it always the same? Saying anything to try to turn their lies into truth.
“You saw nothing?”
“No!” cried the man. “I swear to you! Nothing!”
Now Ngeze nodded to both soldiers. They reached down and pushed the man flat against the cold stone. One soldier pressed his boot hard against the man’s neck, keeping him in place, while the other pulled an arm free, nearly dislocating it at the shoulder.
The man screamed in pain, echoing eerily against the thick walls.
The soldier moved down the man’s arm until he held it like a vice at the wrist.
“Listen to me,” Ngeze said, raising his voice over the man’s wailing. “Are you listening?”
The man struggled to speak with his face and lips pressed against the floor. “Y-yes.”
“You have lied to me four times. And now you will lose four.” Ngeze bent down closer to him. “But I will have the truth. And you will only have six fingers left to tell it.”
***
Less than an hour later, Ngeze sat in a plush chair, shaded by a broad overhead umbrella. The terrace, adorned with statues and handcrafted chairs, provided a cool breeze as Ngeze sipped and savored a cup of Columbian coffee. It was considered an imported delicacy after Rwanda’s own coffee and tea industries had been utterly devastated.
He set the cup down and had just reached for a pastry when one of his soldiers appeared, waiting at a distance. Beside him was a young boy.
Taking a bite, Ngeze chewed slowly and deliberately. He then leaned back against the cushion before motioning them forward. He peered contemptuously at the boy who he’d seen before.
“Yves. What do you want now?”
The ten-year-old stepped closer and spoke in native Kinyarwandan. “My Eminence, you told me if I had information to bring it to you.”
“What is it now?”
“Some Americans are here.”
He shrugged. “So what?”
“They are scientist people.”
Ngeze took another bite of his pastry and waved them both away. “I don’t care.”
The soldier was already reaching for Yves when he quickly stammered, “They come to learn about the one that died. The Mountain Lady.”
Ngeze stopped chewing and held up a hand. The soldier froze with a hand on the boy’s arm.
“What did you say?”
“They came to learn of the Mountain Lady.”
“What did they say?”
“They wanted to go to the mountains.”
“For her?”
“Yes,” Yves nodded.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Ngeze glanced at his man before letting his eyes fall back on Yves. “When?”
“This morning.”
This morning? Ngeze’s eyes became more intent. “Have they already left?”
“Yes.” Even at ten, Yves was smart enough not to mention who took them.
“What do they look like?”
“Two men and a woman. And two monkeys.”
“And you’re sure they’re Americans?”
“Yes.”
Ngeze stared at the boy for a long time. “You can go.”
The boy nodded and stepped back away from the hand of the soldier. But he wasn’t done. “Is this enough? To help my father?”
Ngeze squinted at the boy. “We’ll see. Maybe.”
Yves smiled. The man had never told him maybe before. He promptly turned and left, reaching the stairs and descending out of sight.
Amir Ngeze watched his man disappear behind Yves. He let himself chuckle at the boy’s naïveté. He wanted so badly to have his father set free, he would continue to do anything. It was too bad the kid hadn’t figured out yet that his father was already long dead.
Ngeze pushed his chair back and stood up. He looked out toward the top of the distant mountain. It had been a long time. What exactly did the Americans want to know about the Fossey woman now?
64
The Jeep’s engine roared loudly as it crawled up a steep embankment and around another washed-out section of road. Overhead, the towering mahogany and kapok trees shrouded the area under dense canopy for as far as they could see. Rich green plants leaned out from the edge of the dirt road, their leaves slapping the sides of the vehicle as they passed.
Now on DeeAnn’s lap, Dulce eagerly leaned out the side window laughing when brushed by a passing leaf or small branch. Her eyes caught sight of a cluster of bright pink bromeliad flowers, before they disappeared again behind another wave of green flora.
But to Dulce, the excitement was not just in what she saw. It was in what she smelled––a symphony of scents and odors that seemed to reawaken her senses. Sensations that her olfactory system remembered, even if the young gorilla’s memory did not.
Even Dexter seemed mesmerized by their surroundings. He sat, cautiously, half perched on John Clay’s shoulder with his thin gray arms resting on the window strip.
It had taken two hours to reach the first crest of the Volcanoes National Park and nearly another to spot the first glimpse of the snowcapped peak of Mount Karisimbi.
Mommy. Dulce hooted, turning back and motioning with her hands in front of her. We home. We home.
Clay leaned in closer. “Did you ever meet Dian Fossey?”
DeeAnn nodded. “Once. In college. She was giving a talk, and a friend invited me. To be honest, I’d never even considered this kind of work until then.” A deep pothole shook the Jeep from side to side before she continued. “I remember thinking that I’d never seen anyone so passionate about what they were doing before. I even got to talk to her for a few minutes. But she wouldn’t have remembered me. It was after that when my friend and I started following her work. Fascinating woman.”
Clay smiled. “Like you and Ali, I think.”
DeeAnn let out a small chuckle and turned away, looking out the window with Dulce.
***
Several minutes later, Janvier leaned forward in the front seat, peering through the
dirt-splattered windshield. When they came around another tight bend, he bolted upright. “Stop! Stop here!” he shouted over the engine.
Caesare slowed and pulled to a stop against the inside embankment, leaving just enough space for Janvier and Clay to open their doors.
“Is this it?”
“No. The cabin is far ahead, but this is where we can get in.”
All four climbed out. Dulce, rather than reaching for DeeAnn, readily climbed down onto the dirt road and touched it gingerly with her fingers. She sniffed several times and scampered across the road to the opposite side, looking down the mountainside through the trees.
“What does it smell like, Dulce?”
After the translation, she grinned up at Caesare. Smell happy.
The exchange was the first time Janvier had realized what was happening, and he was immediately taken aback. “Y-you can talk to them?”
“To her. Yes,” DeeAnn replied.
The teenager stepped forward in amazement and studied the strange vest. “How?”
“It’s a computer,” Caesare explained. It was a tremendous simplification, yet it seemed to satisfy the youth who nodded and continued watching.
Behind them, Dexter also crossed the road and approached Caesare. He lowered his arm and the monkey promptly climbed up onto his shoulder.
“He’s really beginning to trust you,” DeeAnn declared.
“I wouldn’t hold it against him,” Clay joked over his shoulder. “I’ve made the same mistake multiple times.”
Caesare squinted at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be the strong silent type?”
“I forgot.” Clay noticed an odd look on DeeAnn’s face. “Everything okay?”
She moved several steps back and motioned both men toward her. When they stepped forward, she lowered her voice. “I think I should remind you of the other reason I didn’t want to come back here.”
“Which reason was that?”
“The poaching. We talked about it, but I need to re-emphasize just how serious things are here. In Rwanda, gorilla poaching isn’t just bad, it’s really bad. Probably as bad as any place on the planet.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
DeeAnn took a deep breath. “We’re talking about a very bad place, where poaching ends and outright murder begins.”
“I thought poaching was for capture?” Caesare asked.
“Some of it is.”
“Then what would be the purpose of just killing them outright?”
DeeAnn shook her head. “Primarily for their meat. But as bad as that is, it brings certain…consequences. That we all need to stay aware of.”
“Such as?” Clay questioned.
“The other reason I didn’t want to come here is that if we see other gorillas in the wild, things may not go well.”
“And not well means what exactly?”
DeeAnn glanced past them at Dulce, who was playing with the branches of a small kapok tree. “Dulce has not experienced other gorillas before, at least not that she can remember. And certainly not in the wild. I don’t know how she’s going to react. But that’s not the part I’m worried about. It’s what happens when they see her. It’s one thing to run into a female adult out here. Even a mother with her young. But it’s very different if we see a silverback.”
“A male?”
“Exactly. The males are the protectors. And they’re not stupid. They are intimately aware of what’s happening to them up here. They understand who’s doing the killing. Which means that if a silverback spots us with Dulce, he will most likely conclude that she has been kidnapped. And he’ll try to recover her.”
“So he might attack?”
DeeAnn shook her head. “Not might. Gorillas fight to the death to protect their young. If he thinks Dulce has been kidnapped, there’s no question that he’ll attack.”
Caesare frowned. “Crap.”
“And believe me, a silverback is the last thing you want to fight. They are not just strong, they’re Superman strong. Strong enough to literally rip arms off if they get angry enough. And they can run much faster than you think.”
“How fast?”
“Let’s put it this way. Unless there’s a significant distance between us, we won’t have a chance.”
Caesare folded his arms and glared at Clay. “Okay, I don’t want to sound negative, but this trip is really losing its allure for me.”
Clay turned to DeeAnn. “Remind me exactly why we bought Dulce?”
“Because I had to,” she replied. “Once we leave, I don’t plan on coming back here. Ever again. And although Dulce is young, this is still her first home. This is where she came from. As difficult as it is for me, the choice ultimately belongs to her.”
“Plus,” DeeAnn added, “there is a chance Dulce and Dexter can help us. And we’ll need all the help we can get.”
After a thoughtful pause, Clay nodded and turned back to the teen. “Where to from here, Janvier?”
“That way. A path in the trees. We get in from the other side.”
***
The path was about a half mile through dense rain forest. Brushing through broad, hanging leaves that were still wet, everyone’s clothes gradually becoming soaked as they pushed through. It wasn’t long before they heard the sound of a waterfall.
It was small. Whitewater cascaded down several sections of rock before rolling over a larger boulder and disappearing from sight. A cool mist floated outward, lightly coating their arms and faces as they stepped closer.
Janvier raised his voice and climbed carefully toward the wet, slippery rocks. “Up there.” He pointed up to where the others could see a very tall chain link fence strewn across the embankment. It passed over the small waterfall, continuing through the jungle on either side.
Where the fence billowed out over the water was a small opening large enough to climb through.
“What?! Up there?”
Janvier smiled proudly. “Yes. I can lead you.”
DeeAnn scanned the incline and turned to look worriedly at her companions. Caesare winked. “At least we’re not jumping out of a plane.”
“Some consolation.”
Fortunately, what little path there was up the embankment was not steep. Instead, it narrowly zigzagged its way to a larger and wider boulder, which jutted out close to the fencing. When they reached it, DeeAnn watched the others’ technique before rotating one arm underneath and wrapping her fingers through the fence for support. She then turned to reach for Dulce only to have the gorilla scamper up effortlessly from behind, passing DeeAnn and waiting for her on the next group of rocks.
Bringing up the rear, Caesare ducked below the fence, careful, like Clay, to keep his pack from getting caught. Dexter watched with interest before suddenly jumping onto the chain link and climbing effortlessly over the top.
After nearly another hundred feet of climbing, the group made it to a wider open area, where they stopped to catch their breath.
“How much further, Janvier?”
He studied the way above them. “Not far. We are close now.”
“Thank God,” DeeAnn muttered.
After a short rest, they continued, veering away from the cascading stream. They found an area where the dense foliage was easier to climb, and gave them more to hang onto.
When they reached the final ledge, what they were looking for was almost completely obscured inside thick vegetation. Dozens of trees and tall bushes were slowly reclaiming the area, including what was left of the old cabin.
On either side of a deteriorating foundation were signs of a once larger, flatter open area––all being methodically restored by Mother Nature.
“This is it?”
Janvier smiled with pride. “Yes.”
Clay and Caesare approached slowly and rounded both sides of the structure. The walls were missing most of their planks. The entirety of the original roof had caved in, filling the inside of the structure with a mix of debris and vegetation.
&nbs
p; “I’m guessing it cleaned up a little better thirty years ago?”
DeeAnn anxiously studied the scene, taking it all in. “I’m sure,” she replied absentmindedly.
Caesare nodded and raised his leg, pushing over a broken beam. It fell away, along with a span of old shingles, onto what was left of the wooden floorboards indicating two or three original rooms. In the corner stood a small iron stove, covered with a thick layer of dirt and mud.
In the ruins of a second room were remnants of tattered bedding, where a bed had been. Just a few feet away remained pieces of a small table, strewn with unrecognizable items completely caked in dirt.
Clay studied the remains of several empty shelves, most in pieces on the floor except for one still dangling precariously from the wall.
“Why would they keep this?” he asked quietly. “Why fence the whole area off rather than just tear the structure down?”
“I don’t know,” DeeAnn said. She peered up at the trees above them. “There was an investigation and the only person who was ever charged was one of Dian’s friends, in absentia. He had already returned to the U.S. A lot of people felt it was merely a formality by Rwandan officials. Bribery and corruption run deep here. Especially in these parts with the Rwandan National Park guards.”
Caesare frowned. “Then why not get rid of what’s left of the evidence? They’ve had plenty of time to do it.”
“It doesn’t make any sense.”
The three were interrupted by Janvier, still standing outside. “It was for purpose.”
They all turned toward their guide.
“The man who rules this area, he is very powerful. He rules the mountains. He leaves this place as a reason. As a message to everyone.”
“A message?”
“I think he means a warning,” Clay answered.
DeeAnn rolled her eyes. “My God. What is wrong with people?” She shook her head and dropped down onto a tree stump, staring at the remains. “What is wrong with everyone? Why does everything have to turn into a damn fight?! She did not deserve this! She was just trying to help the gorillas from getting slaughtered. Innocent animals that did nothing to anyone. And for that, they kill her? For trying to help? For trying to be kind?” DeeAnn gritted her teeth. “It’s exactly what we’re trying to do!”
Ripple (Breakthrough Book 4) Page 22
