Blood Ransom

by Lisa Harris

Joseph reached up and touched the spot with his fingertips. Chad handed him a mirror.

  “Not a bad job if I do say so myself.” Chad pulled off his gloves, then squeezed some liquid soap onto his hands before turning on the water to wash up.

  Joseph jumped down from the table, grabbing the edge to catch his balance. “Can I go?”

  “Hey, slow down.” Chad poured some water into a plastic cup and handed it to him. “This is more than just a bump on the head, isn’t it? You look like a boy with a problem. I’m a doctor and am used to listening and seeing what I can do to fix things. Maybe I can help you.” He shot the boy a broad smile as he urged him back onto the table.

  Joseph shook his head. “You can’t.”

  Can’t or won’t let me? You’ve got to talk to me, boy, so I can help. “Why do you think I can’t help you?”

  The young man shrugged.

  Chad glanced at Natalie. “Do you know what happened?”

  “You’re right. Joseph didn’t just hurt his head.” She paused, pressing her lips together. “There’s a lot more involved.”

  Chad caught the panicked look Joseph shot Natalie as he picked up a thermometer from the tray. He placed it under Joseph’s tongue for a reading. “Will you do something for me? Stay still until this beeps. I need to talk to Natalie in private, but I’ll be right back.”

  Halfway down the narrow, empty hallway, he leaned against a rough section of the chipped cement wall. Three volunteers from Houston were arriving in two weeks to paint the buildings and do general repairs. He was already looking forward to the spruced-up work environment, some spiritual encouragement, and perhaps a few Snickers bars.

  Natalie glanced up at him. “You’ve got great bedside manners.”

  “I learned from the best. If you remember, my father was a doctor.”

  Natalie smiled. “I remember seeing him at school functions. He always had a handful of root-beer candies in his pocket and wore that handlebar mustache.”

  Chad laughed at the memories. “He died seven years ago. I still miss him.”

  “I’m sorry. He was a good man.”

  It might be nice to reminisce together one day, but at the moment he had a feeling the boy in the exam room needed more than a few stitches. “What about Joseph? Do you know how he hurt his head?”

  She stood with her arms folded around her waist, her smile vanishing. “He told me he was returning to his village when it was attacked by Ghost Soldiers.”

  “Ghost Soldiers?” Chad pinched his nose with his thumb and forefinger and closed his eyes for a second. “There have been rumors of Ghost Soldiers for years, Natalie, but their existence has never been proven.”

  “Joseph says he has pictures.”

  “Did you see them?”

  She shook her head. “He told me he dropped the camera while trying to get away.”

  “So there’s really no evidence of what happened.”

  Her voice rose a notch. “The evidence is that he watched his mother and father and sister being forced from their village by gunpoint, and those who weren’t strong enough to work were murdered. He’s got a concussion from the butt of a rifle from one of the soldiers. Isn’t that enough evidence?”

  “From the reports I’ve heard, no one has ever been able to substantiate the existence of any kind of hidden, modern-day slave trade in this country.”

  “All it would take would be a few well-placed bribes and the truth vanishes.” She gnawed on the edge of her lip. “But what about this? For the past seven months I’ve been doing some demographic work for the minister of health and asking a few questions. While I can’t confirm anything yet, my research points to the fact that entire villages have vanished.”

  “Many of these people are nomadic—”

  “I know. And that’s the official response from the government. But you and I both know that the country’s potential for wealth is enormous. With its vast quantities of gold, diamonds, and other natural resources ready to be taken by the highest bidder…” She paused for a moment. “I know this is hard to believe, even for me, but what if he’s telling the truth, Chad?”

  He still wasn’t convinced. “The government’s financial motivation to exploit its people is valid, but I’ve followed the politics of this country for the past decade. The president seems to have finally realized that it’s in his interest to go along with the United Nations. Following the rules of the game brings in millions in extra aid relief for his people.”

  “Or gives him another place to skim off a large portion for himself.” She pointed at the room where Joseph waited. “You’re the doctor. You saw him. The boy’s traumatized.”

  He held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ve seen enough horror in this country to last me a lifetime. Little girls raped by their uncles, kids missing limbs because of landmines, women forced to sell themselves to feed their children…and that’s just the beginning. You can add AIDS, polio, and other outbreaks.”

  She jutted out her jaw and took on a determined stance. “Then what’s so hard about believing in the Ghost Soldiers?”

  “Do you really believe in them?”

  “I wasn’t sure until today. Joseph’s a bright young man. He has no reason to lie.”

  “But with no proof…” Chad looked away, trying to make sense of it all.

  There was another, more realistic, possibility.

  He lowered his voice to ensure Joseph couldn’t hear him. “Have you considered that he might think you’re his ticket out of here?”

  Natalie’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “I grew up here, and I’ve seen it dozens of times. Joseph speaks English, which means he’s educated. He meets you, a compassionate foreigner with the financial means to buy his way out of here to something better. What Dhambizan doesn’t dream of living in Chicago or Dallas with a decent job and enough food on his table for his family?”

  Natalie threw up her arms. “He’s not after me for a handout. He didn’t even want me to bring him here.”

  “I’m not saying that he’s lying.” He clenched his jaw. He hadn’t wanted to start an argument, but it was a possibility that had to be addressed. “But what if he took advantage of an opportunity?”

  “He told me about his sister, Aina. They dragged her away, Chad. Along with his mother and father. They shot and murdered his grandfather—”

  “Just consider the possibility. A story like his could go a long way in helping him receive political asylum in the States.”

  He’d seen enough of Africa to know that there was often a fine line between truth and lies, and that embellishments were more often than not rolled into the facts. And there was nothing Natalie could do to change things even if the existence of the Ghost Soldiers was proven to be true.

  “I have to consider the fact that he’s telling the truth.” She rubbed her temples with her fingers. “But I’ll also concede that the upcoming election has me on edge.”

  “Which is all the more reason not to overreact.”

  “Maybe.” Natalie started walking back toward the exam room. “I need to get going. I was planning on throwing a party for my boss tonight at my house, but I can still make sure Joseph rests tonight.”

  “And then?”

  She stopped and shrugged. “I don’t know. The authorities are occupied with the upcoming election. I doubt they have the time or resources to investigate Joseph’s story.”

  He reached out and gently squeezed her forearm with his fingers. “Don’t get involved in this, Natalie. If you have to, call your boss or your senator back home—or forget about it for all I care. But don’t get involved.”

  A hint of anger registered in her eyes. “You’ve turned cynical.”

  He dropped his hands to his sides. “No. I’m a realist. I decided to return because of my love for the people. It’s the corruption and suffering I hate. And as much as I’d like to take it all away…realistically, I know I can’t.”

  “Joseph mentioned somethin
g else too.” She stared down the hall at the examination room. “He overheard two of the men speaking in English. They inferred that they’d be in power in four more days, that President Tau would be taken care of, and that they had the support of this district behind him. Which sounds to me like the election’s being set so the opposition wins.”

  “The election is rigged?” Chad’s stomach muscles clenched. “That’s hard to believe. The UN has an election committee in place to ensure something like this doesn’t happen. Forget about this. Just go home and make sure Joseph gets some rest.”

  “I’ll go home.” She turned and caught his gaze. “But if Joseph is telling the truth, then the lives of a whole village—and perhaps the entire country—are at stake.”

  FOUR

  MONDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 8:14 P.M.

  NATALIE’S HOUSE, KASILI

  “So what are you saying, Patrick? That the United Nations is using the Republic of Dhambizao as a poster child for fair and peaceful African elections?” Natalie set another bowl of homemade salsa on the wooden table next to the vegetable tray and frowned.

  As she’d expected, Patrick Seko had waylaid the conversation to fit his own political agenda, leaving little openings for topics other than the country’s upcoming elections. But while she hadn’t wanted a political debate at tonight’s birthday celebration, if Joseph was right and there were plans of a presidential takeover, it wouldn’t hurt to find out everything she could about the election. And Patrick was the perfect place to start.

  “ ‘A poster child.’ I like that.” Patrick picked up a handful of fried plantain chips and popped one into his mouth. “And yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” His tall, burly stature hovered over Rachel’s tiny figure as she stood beside him finishing a plate of curry and rice. “And if something does happen to go wrong, we blame it on the election committee. Either way, we come out looking good.”

  “Another violent election won’t make anyone look good, Patrick, and you know it.” Stephen balanced his plastic plate on his lap and picked up his drink from the floor beside him.

  “Stephen’s right.” Natalie scooped a spoonful of the salsa onto her plate. “I’d like to know what kind of security measures are being implemented so history doesn’t repeat itself.”

  Patrick grinned, clearly in his element. “I can assure you there is nothing to worry about. Troops are out on the streets in force from here to the capital, and if necessary, the UN has promised to employ extra reinforcements to ensure there are no serious security issues.”

  One of Natalie’s other guests stepped forward. “But do you actually think that the UN’s extra security is going to make a difference in the end for the people of this country?”

  Patrick’s smile faded. “I’m sorry, Miss…”

  “Gabby Mackenzie. I’m a journalist from the States in town for a couple days.”

  Natalie turned to Gabby, who’d contacted her recently for help in finding a translator and lodging while in the country. From what Natalie had since learned about her, the up-and-coming journalist wasn’t likely to be afraid of taking on a tough interview, the wilds of Africa, or Patrick, for that matter.

  “What exactly are you implying?” Patrick asked.

  Gabby kept her gaze even. “I’ve spent the past three weeks talking to dozens of investors and government officials from Lusaka to Dar es Salaam to Bogama, and while there are some who, I admit, want to help the people working for them, others are obviously exploiting their workers and pocketing the profits. So my question is how will having a new president, or even another term with the current president in this country, change things for the thousands of people being exploited?”

  Stephen dropped his fork onto his plate. “I believe our current president has promised to continue to fight against foreign and local investors involved in the exploitation of workers.”

  “I’ve heard the promises.” Gabby obviously wasn’t done making her point. “But the workers are the ones who pay the price—sometimes with their lives—while foreign investors pay paltry wages and pocket the huge profits.”

  “I’m assuming you have a solution to this problem?” Patrick asked.

  Gabby set her empty plate on the edge of the table as if ready to take on the challenge. “For starters, business and foreign investors have to be held accountable, instead of allowing their workers to perform under such despicable conditions. Nor should governments accept every offer promising schools and roads when in exchange they are stripped of their natural resources—”

  Shaking her head, Gabby took a step back and caught Natalie’s gaze. “I’m sorry. Tonight’s supposed to be a celebration, not a time for me to stand on my soapbox.”

  Natalie couldn’t help but be impressed with the woman’s passion. “I don’t think anyone here is beneath a good debate. Isn’t that right, Patrick?”

  “Well said, but for now…” Patrick held up his Coke for a toast. “To Stephen and the Republic of Dhambizao. May both have many fruitful years of productivity—and peace—ahead of them.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Stephen held up his drink, smiled, and took a sip.

  While the group dispersed to help themselves to more food, Natalie poured more peanuts into the glass bowl.

  Gabby helped herself to a small handful. “I appreciate your inviting me here tonight. I’ve never been able to turn down a good homemade meal or a political debate.”

  “Then you’re at the right place.” Natalie chuckled. “At least for the political debate part.”

  Gabby laughed. “I don’t see anyone complaining about your food.”

  “Just know you’re welcome anytime you’re back in the country. Are you still leaving in the morning?”

  “I’ve got an early flight to the capital in the morning and one more meeting before I fly back to DC.”

  “I am intrigued by the premise of your article.” Natalie pressed her lips together, wondering how much—if any—of Joseph’s situation she should bring up. As a journalist, Gabby would want solid proof. Something Natalie didn’t have. “I’ve seen how the workers are treated in several of the outlaying mines, but what if…what if there was more involved than simply low wages and dangerous working conditions?”

  Gabby cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

  “Have you ever heard of the Ghost Soldiers?”

  “What exactly are Ghost Sol—”

  “So I see you’re not the only one asking questions about the Ghost Soldiers, Natalie.”

  Natalie spun on her heel to face Patrick. “Gabby and I were discussing the article she’s writing.”

  Patrick swirled the ice in his glass and shot her a smug grin. “Perhaps you should join the ranks as a reporter.”

  Natalie frowned at the sarcastic suggestion. “I’m quite happy to leave journalism to the experts like Gabby.”

  “Sound advice, don’t you think, Miss Mackenzie?” He turned back to Natalie. “Of course, I would have thought a potential hepatitis epidemic would have you too busy to worry over unverified rumors of Ghost Soldiers.”

  “So what do you think about these rumors, Patrick?” Natalie ignored the man’s hard stare, wondering what Rachel saw in him.

  “I’ve been investigating them.”

  “Really?” That would explain his interest in her demographic reports and the questions they raised. “And what have you discovered?”

  “That the villagers are ‘disappearing’ because they are nomadic. You can’t expect accurate counts when over ten percent of the population lives deep in the mountain jungles and has little contact with the outside world. I say the Ghost Soldiers are nothing more than rumors spread by the opposition to discredit the president.”

  “Do you have proof they don’t exist?” Gabby asked.

  “Of course I do.”

  No doubt laced with lies and exaggerated facts.

  Someone buzzed at the front gate. Natalie glanced at the door and made a mental note to finish the conversation at a lat
er date. “If you’ll both excuse me.”

  She set her uneaten food down on the edge of the kitchen counter and took the chance to slip away from both the conversation and her tumultuous thoughts. Hurrying down the front steps, she tried to shake off her simmering anger. She’d come here to help an impoverished people, and the fact that most of the government leaders were more interested in lining their own pockets than confronting real concerns like people’s lives made her furious.

  She stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and looked up at the night sky. Stars hovered above her—thousands more, it seemed, than the view she’d had from her apartment balcony back home in Portland.

  The heavens declare the glory of God, and the skies proclaim His handiwork.

  Breathing in the sweet scent of jasmine that crept along the outside wall, she willed her nerves to settle down. Sometimes the natural beauty of this place was the only proof she could see that God even existed here.

  Chad stood at the gate.

  “Hi.” She shot him a broad smile as she unlocked the gate. “I’m glad you came.”

  “I’m glad you invited me.”

  Natalie felt a blush creep across her cheeks. He’d changed from his scrubs to blue jeans and a khaki T-shirt and looked relaxed. His hair was curly like she remembered from high school, cut short in the back and left a little longer on top. The time that had passed since she’d last seen him in the States had given him a mature confidence, along with a few gray hairs.

  He might not agree with her stance to do whatever she could to help Joseph, but as she left the clinic she’d decided to invite him anyway on the premise he might enjoy a home-cooked meal and meeting a few people. Truth was after eighteen months of living in Dhambizao, there was always a certain wave of security that encircled her when meeting another American. Which was the same reason she’d invited Gabby.

  He stepped inside the compound, and she shut the gate behind him. “Sorry I’m late. I was tied up at the hospital longer than I expected.”

  “No problem. Hungry?”

  “Starved.”

  “Good. I’ve got hot curry and rice, fresh fruit, and chocolate cake.”