Foreign Hostage

by Aiden L Bailey

  “You’re with Isengwe and Orszak, and one of my best anti-poaching commandos, Corporal Joshua Sauko. You’re in capable hands.”

  “Orszak? Seriously?”

  “What about him, Ashcroft?”

  “Sir, the man’s an alcoholic. He’s hung over. Probably still drunk.”

  Kiwango looked over at the American, who was laughing and joking with a few of the uniformed commandos. “You don’t know Orszak the same way we do.”

  Simon massaged his forehead, trying to hold his frustration and disgust in. “I think you better clarify that one, sir.”

  “Orszak is a performer. He loves an audience. He plays up everything he does.”

  “You mean he’s not hungover? This is all an act?”

  Kiwango shook his head. “I’m just saying it’s not as bad as he would like you to think it is.” He patted Simon on the shoulder. “Isengwe tells me you haven’t shared yet? The intelligence you promised to swap with us? That is why you are here in Tanzania, no?”

  Simon stared at Kiwango, refusing to break eye contact. It was possible that the Head of Intelligence was the one feeding the assassin with their intelligence on the poachers. It could be anyone in this room. Simon had to be very careful with everything he said. “Sir, you have a leak in your organization. How else do you explain last night?”

  “Ah, the so-called vigilante assassin?”

  “Yes. He got to the poachers before we did, knew all about them. He knew who they were and how to take them all out.”

  Kiwango kept his hand on Simon’s shoulder, squeezing it in a fatherly gesture. “It was you, wasn’t it Ashcroft, who found the business card that led us to the Mango Express?”

  Simon was about to retort, but stopped himself. Yes, it had been him who had found the card. In hindsight, the intel had been rather easy to follow.

  “Ashcroft, you will not be a problem, will you?”

  He looked across the room. Orszak was talking with Isengwe and a young Tanzanian corporal who had to be Joshua Sauko. The American still grinned from ear to ear, even when he looked up at Simon, gesturing that he should join them.

  “No sir,” Simon said through gritted teeth. He was certain he wasn’t the one who would be the problem.

  Simon signed out an AK-47, a combat vest with plenty of pockets to carry enough extra clips for his assault rifle, body armor and more 9mm rounds for his Glock 19. This was a war. Poachers shot rangers. He had to be prepared to shoot and kill the enemy. Yesterday, after he had witnessed what these people did to elephants, he knew killing them wouldn’t be a problem, if it came to that.

  Sauko approached, already equipped with a M16A2 and his own combat vest and body armor. “Lieutenant Ashcroft, sir, just wanted to introduce myself. Corporal Joshua Sauko. Commando Battalion. Seconded to the NTSCIU since February last year. Before I was with UNAMID, the joint African Union and United Nations peacekeeping mission in Darfur.”

  “That’s quite a resume Corporal.”

  “Sir, thank you, sir. What about yourself, if I may ask?”

  Simon smiled. The young soldier was here to understand Simon’s capabilities in the theater of war. Simon didn’t blame him, incompetent team members sometimes killed soldiers on their own side. Sauko didn’t want that ‘someone’ to be Simon.

  “I served with the Australian Army for six years. Saw action in Afghanistan. Now I’m with ASIS where I’ve served across Africa and Asia, including again in Afghanistan. I’ve also trained with and been on missions with the SAS special forces. I can’t tell you any more than that, as it’s classified.”

  Sauko snapped off a salute. “Thank you, sir, it will be an honor to serve with you.”

  Simon returned the salute. The young man seemed set on making friends. Perhaps he was also feeling like an outsider, cut off from whatever it was Isengwe and Orszak had going on. Simon wanted to ask Sauko what he thought Isengwe’s story was, but now didn’t seem an appropriate time. So far, she’d been too accepting of Orszak’s crazy antics, and that didn’t add up. Which made him wonder — was Sauko’s attempt to make friends with him because he didn’t trust Isengwe and Orszak to look after him out on the field either?

  Orszak came up behind Simon and pounded him on the back. The act dressed up as camaraderie, but the force hurt. “You ready for this bud?”

  Simon nodded.

  “Good, because it will not get any easier.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Taveta, Tanzania-Kenya Border

  One civilian and two police four-wheel drives sped east along the bitumen road. The passing landscape was expansive grassland, scrub, thorn trees, rolling hills and orange dust. The pasengers bothered only to acknowledge the occasional bolt of lightning as it crackled through the dry air, fueled by the dark clouds gathering around the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro to the north.

  No one spoke. They had driven for hours and there had been no sign of the poachers. Jack Orszak concentrated on keeping pace with the police vehicle in front. When they stopped to ask a pedestrian if they had seen the vehicles they were looking for, they replied ‘yes, an hour’s drive ahead.’ The team would pursue again, hopeful. But hope faded as they passed a sign noting the Kenyan border was less than five kilometers distant. Unless the border control officers had detained or slowed the poachers, the enemy would already be in the next country.

  All too soon they reached the Taveta Border Control checkpoint.

  Isengwe talked to the border control officers. After ten minutes of subdued conversation and record checking, her expression said it all: don’t hope. “The suspects crossed two hours ago. Customs tried to delay them but nothing was amiss. They had to let them through.”

  Simon felt the pangs of disappointment. He’d thought they might save some elephants today. That alone would have made his trip to Africa worthwhile. He asked himself if the poachers had bribed a speedy and safe passage into Tanzania. Across East Africa, bribes were a normal part of daily life.

  “Fuck!” Orszak paced up and down the road.

  Isengwe grabbed Orszak by the arm, stepped in close and said in a whisper , “You know we can’t cross. We have no authority in Kenya.”

  Orszak spoke with volume, “You are the Transnational Serious Crimes Unit, aren’t you?”

  “Jack,” she kept her voice low. “Don’t make a scene, please?”

  “You’re giving up, just like that?”

  She held her tongue, her guilt obvious as she looked away. But guilt about what?

  Orszak grinned, then looked to Simon. “Hey, Aussie?”

  “Yes, Yank?”

  “You and I? Fancy a trip into Kenya? Mano-a-mano?”

  Isengwe rolled her eyes. Behind her, Corporal Sauko remained motionless and alert, like a good soldier, but he looked worried, like a child who sees their parents fight and wonders if they will divorce. The other soldiers and officers in their team were also perplexed.

  “Our authority over there would be what it is here, don’t you think? Ashcroft?”

  Simon said nothing as he considered the options. Orszak’s suggestion carried risk, but it was what he wanted to do. In Tanzania he had achieved nothing. Over the border he could protect elephants and interrogate any poachers they captured, chasing intel on the Philippines smuggling routes. As a career intelligence officer, he’d spent most of his life spying in foreign countries and taking down bad people in places where he had no authority and no rights at all. It was no different here.

  He looked again at Orszak. Simon’s only hesitation was the American himself, because Orszak might lead Simon into a trap. Once inside Tsavo West National Park they might find themselves a hundred kilometers or more from the nearest human. If Orszak wanted to put a bullet in Simon’s head, it wouldn’t be difficult, and it was an act that could he could blame on poachers. The question was, did Orszak have a reason to do away with Simon?, Simon didn’t have a definitive answer.

  He turned to Sauko. The young man was a veteran of one of Africa’s worst wars, so
he understood risks. Like Simon he was itching to see some real action again, but he also seemed an outsider in this group. If he was keen to go, it meant he thought Jack Orszak was reliable. “What about you, Corporal? You want to join us, as a civilian?”

  The young soldier pursed his lips as he glanced at Simon. He was keen. When he shot a glance at Isengwe, Simon understood where his fears lay.

  “No way!” Isengwe interrupted. Her tone carried a confidence that suggested she was the only voice of reason here, and perhaps she was. “I can’t control Orszak, or you, Ashcroft. But I do not permit you to corrupt my officers.”

  Simon nodded. He looked at the remaining soldiers, police and intelligence officers in their team. Some stood with their arms crossed. Others kicked the dust. It was getting way too tense for all of them. Everyone here despised wildlife poachers, and now when they could strike first, they were powerless to do anything. If it were permissible, there was no doubt many would jump at the opportunity to hunt these men in another country. If Simon didn’t decide soon, Isengwe would soon send them all back to Arusha before the situation got out of hand.

  “What the heck!” Simon said to Orszak. “Let’s just do this. You and me.”

  Orszak grinned.

  Isengwe fumed.

  The two men cleared customs, then jumped into Orszak’s four wheel drive and crossed the border.

  The American laughed as the road opened up and they sped into the dusty badlands of central south Kenya. “I didn’t think you had the balls, Ashcroft.”

  “That’s because you don’t know me.”

  He laughed loud and long. “And you think you know me?”

  Simon said nothing.

  “It’s a simple enough question.”

  “No. I don’t know you. Does that make us even?”

  Satisfied with Simon’s answer, the American grinned as they continued in silence.

  Twenty minutes passed, and the landscape lost its few patches of lush green vegetation. After passing through the township of Ziwani, they entered Tsavo West National Park paying the fifty U.S. dollar entry fees at the ranger station. The landscape transformed into flat and dry plains interspersed with distant rolling hills.

  “It’s the elephants who create this,” Orszak explained.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Elephants are environmental engineers. They break down trees, clear land. They keep the savannas in that halfway point between forest and grassland. Killing them all would create a catastrophic gap in the African ecosystem.”

  “Your friend Bridgette told you all this?”

  That shut him up, and Simon didn’t mind. He preferred driving in silence. It allowed him time to think, to put puzzle pieces together hoping to see a bigger picture.

  They hailed the first safari van they passed. No one in the group of Norwegian and Danish tourists had seen the poachers. The second and third groups they passed gave the same answers.

  “We’ve got this all wrong,” Simon exclaimed. He asked the Maasai guide in the latest safari van they had stopped, “Have you seen elephants?”

  “Yes,” said the guide. “Head north, about fifteen, maybe twenty kilometers. A group of twenty.”

  “When did you last see them?”

  “Three, four hours ago.”

  The American and the Australian looked to each other. They both nodded in agreement. This was their best and only option. They left the roads and drove north through open savanna.

  For the next few hours the trip was all flat, dry grasslands. Then from nowhere and for no reason, Orszak halted, like he had the other day when he spotted Kuifie. He jumped out and examined a steaming mound of animal shit. “It’s elephant, and it’s fresh.” He searched the immediate vicinity, finding tracks. “The Tsavo River is where they will be.”

  They drove again. The closer they got to their destination the more anxious Simon became. They might drive to another massacre site, or into a gun battle with the poachers, or both. Each option was daunting. He checked over his weapons, then cradled the AK-47 in his lap, finger resting on the trigger guard and hand tight around the grip.

  Then they heard what they had dreaded hearing. Gunfire. Short controlled bursts, then rifle shots.

  They were too late.

  Elephants materialized, sprinting from the thorn trees growing along the river bank. Orszak sped up, their jolts on the rough terrain throwing Simon in every direction. His seatbelt was the only thing stopping him from being thrown out the vehicle.

  “There!” Simon exclaimed. He pointed with a shaky hand. “Two o’clock. Two vehicles. Three hundred meters.”

  Orszak pressed down on the accelerator pedal.

  “Stop!” Simon exclaimed as they drew close. “Let me out. You distract them, I’ll surprise then.”

  Orszak grinned. “I like that plan.”

  Simon disembarked as the four-wheel drive slowed. In a crouch he jogged towards the poachers. He saw an elephant stagger on its feet, then fall. When Orszak had driven fifty meters, he pressed the horn hard. The poachers saw him, oblivious to his presence until now because of the gunfire and wails of scared and dying elephants.

  Simon sprinted forward, certain that no one had seen him with Orszak’s reckless distraction. A poacher beaded his hunting rifle on an infant elephant. Simon didn’t hesitate, fired a short burst, impacting the man in the thigh, stomach and chest, killing him. The young elephant kept running.

  A poacher fired at Orszak with an AK-47. When he spotted Simon, now a closer target, he turned and shot again.

  Simon dropped, making himself as small in the dust. When the man had emptied his clip, Simon lined him up along the sights on his barrel. Another short burst made quick work of the second foe.

  More gunfire tore up the surrounding dirt.

  Ducking backwards, startled, Simon regained his composure. He looked for the assailant, spotting a young man with a raised M16. The man didn’t see the old mother elephant coming up behind him, and Simon watched, horrified yet relieved, as she impaled him with her horns, and flung him five meters through the air.

  Simon heard bones breaking as the young man hit the ground hard.

  The matriarch didn’t hesitate. She charged at the downed poacher, trampling him until he was nothing more than pulverized meat.

  Simon clambered to his feet, ejecting his spent magazine and replacing it with another. He pulled back on the charging lever, loading the first round.

  The matriarch stopped, turning to face Simon.

  Staring him down, her eyes locked on his.

  Simon didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t run because she was much faster. He didn’t want to shoot the old mother either. That would go against every reason he was here. Plus… those eyes… she stared at him like she knew him. Or wanted to know him. Was he friend or foe? How could an elephant tell?

  Without conscious thought, Simon stood, raised his arms high, AK-47 in one hand and the other open and empty, in a gesture of surrender.

  She kept staring.

  He maintained eye contact.

  He perceived the gunfire, of Orszak taking on the poachers alone.

  Time stalled. He held his breath.

  It was a situation that couldn’t last forever.

  CHAPTER 7

  The shared moment between Simon and the elephant seemed like an eternity, but it couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds. Simon couldn’t comprehend what he was feeling. A moment, where everything else around him — the shooting, screaming and wails of both man and beast, the frantic movements of animals and humans, the dust in the air and the haze in the distant horizon — it all just faded away. Nothing existed but Simon and the old matriarch.

  A baby elephant cried out.

  The mother turned, comforting the terrified creature with a call of her own, moving to protect it as they backed away from the killing ground.

  Shaking himself, Simon returned his focus to the battle. Orszak had rammed one poacher vehicle side on. Pinning
the driver, the American pounced from his four-wheel drive, anger etched across his brow, and put three bullets into the man. He walked around to the other side where another dazed man trapped with his lock-up seatbelt. Orzsak put three more bullets into him killing him instantly.

  With AK-47 raised, and checking all approaches, Simon jogged towards the American.

  “Fucking perfect day to be alive!” Orszak bellowed. Then sobbed and tears rolled down his cheeks. “They killed two at least. One matriarch. One baby. I need to do a recon.”

  Simon felt sick. “Any idea how many are alive?”

  “At least twenty. That’s got to count. It counts.”

  “How many poachers? I need at least one alive.”

  Orszak held up a single digit. “He ran down to the river. I guess no one told him what lives there.”

  Simon had already guessed, but he didn’t want to make any assumptions, “And what would that be?”

  “Hippos and crocs, bud.”

  “You coming?”

  The American shook his head. “If I see him, I’ll kill him. That’s what I do Ashcroft. I kill bad men. I can’t help myself.”

  Simon thought of arguing the point. Poachers were people, with families and children surviving on a continent where life for many was a daily struggle to provide food. Many of the men they had killed today would have slaughtered elephants because they felt they had no other choice. Many would have been fathers, leaving devastated children behind who would now have to fend for themselves. Nothing was simple in Africa.

  But Simon said none of that. “Fine. I’ll meet you back here.”

  He turned to leave.

  “Ashcroft?”

  “Yes, Orszak?”

  “Don’t get eaten.”

  Simon nodded and took off at a sprint.

  Tsavo River was wide with a gentle flow. Rock and earthen outcrops covered in grass broke up the smooth watery surface. Simon identified hippopotamus frolicking in the waters, keeping cool and hydrated in the day's heat. Of all the megafauna in Africa, hippos were the biggest killers of people. He watched a two ton male hippo stretch open its mouth, the extended jaws wide enough to become almost in line with each other. Its lower canine teeth were like daggers protruding from its jaw. Simon would keep his distance.