The Jungle Warrior

by Andy Briggs

  Since the only way to Karnath was across the lake, after checking that no one was around, they took one of the boats. Jane had no trouble starting the outboard motor and they headed across the calm water.

  The journey was long and uncomfortable. Farther out, the water became choppy and soon the small boat was being tossed on waves more likely to be found at sea than on a lake. It was clear they had the wrong boat for the voyage but they had no choice other than to press on.

  Jane tried to ignore her seasickness. The cool wind and water spray made her feel a little better as she gripped the boat’s wheel to keep it on course. After a couple of hours her arms were numb and she felt so exhausted that she had to hand steering duties over to Tarzan.

  Hours passed as the storm jostled the boat—several times it keeled far over in the water and Jane was convinced they would flounder, but Tarzan stayed firm at the wheel and kept their course.

  After several restless hours the weather calmed and they saw land, which Jane initially mistook for the shore. A chart she found on the boat revealed it to be the island of Kalanga. They navigated around Kalanga and it was almost dark before they saw the lights of the lake’s northern shore ahead.

  They docked in the small city of Entebbe. Even at night, Jane could see it was a more civilized place than Sango. People were dressed in suits or work clothes and gangs of youths wore grubby sneakers. Tarzan looked completely out of place there and it made her even more anxious.

  Jane noticed several trucks loading cargo from a ship that had docked. “We need to hitch a ride into the city,” she said and nodded to a truck. “That might take us there.”

  The vehicle she pointed to was adorned with faded lettering on the door: “Kampala Wholesale.” Rokoff had mentioned the city of Kampala before—it was their only lead. The GPS marker was close and hadn’t moved so she suspected Kampala wasn’t too far off.

  She guided Tarzan onto the open flatbed of the truck just as the driver started his engine. They hid between sacks of grain as the vehicle pulled onto smooth roads. Signs for the airport passed them by, and another one indicated Kampala was only twenty miles away. A quick check on the GPS confirmed that they were heading in the right direction.

  As they got closer to their destination their surroundings increasingly became man-made. An endless sprawl of tin shacks came into view, stretching into the darkness. Laundry hung from lines and stray dogs picked through the rubbish in the street.

  “Is this the furthest you’ve been into a city?” whispered Jane.

  Tarzan nodded. “Furthest Tarzan been from home.”

  The shantytown soon gave way to more sturdy cream and orange brick buildings, some stretching ten stories high. The concrete jungle was becoming denser by the minute, and when the truck pulled up at a large warehouse the stowaways took the opportunity to slip off the truck. Keeping out of sight, they walked off down one of the main streets.

  The solid pavement felt uncomfortable under Tarzan’s bare feet and he found the maze of brick and concrete claustrophobic. Power and phone lines hung overhead. Litter blew in the gentle breeze and every shop was heavily shuttered. Signs for mobile phones, pizza restaurants, clothing, and alcohol were everywhere they looked. Jane thought they could have easily stepped into any downtrodden street in America. She was thankful they had arrived late when the streets were deserted and they were less likely to draw attention to themselves.

  At the end of the street the road climbed gently up toward a cluster of skyscrapers marking the city center. The GPS was leading them there. Shop signs around them started to change, most bearing the name “Nakasero Hill,” which Jane guessed must be the name of the suburb.

  She adjusted the scale of the GPS regularly. It was beginning to look like Rokoff was located in one of the huge tower blocks ahead. One well-lit stone building looked so luxurious and futuristic, with its sloping walls and saucer-shaped roof, that for a second she forgot they were in Africa. The name Hilton was highlighted at the top of the hotel and Jane suddenly felt pangs of homesickness with the thoughts of warm showers, comfortable beds, and room service . . .

  Her daydreaming was cut short by a wolf whistle. Jane snapped back to reality. A gang of teenagers appeared from the shadows, barring her path ahead. She glanced around and saw more had appeared behind her to block her escape. Parked cars to the left hemmed her in. More alarming, there was no sign of Tarzan. Was the big city too much for him? Where had he gone to?

  “Looks like someone took a wrong turn,” taunted a large boy with a crooked nose. He looked like a fighter.

  “Yeah,” chimed a girl next to him, who had a piercing through her lip. “This is our street. And you’s trespassin’.”

  “I’m just going home,” said Jane pointing ahead. “I don’t want any trouble.”

  The boy flashed her a menacing grin. “Well that’s tough, ain’t it? ’Cos we do. Gi’z your money and passport and that phone too.” He indicated to the GPS.

  As Jane slipped the GPS into her pocket, something snapped inside her. She felt a confidence she had never experienced before. Recently she had faced far worse danger than a bunch of bullying kids and she wasn’t about to let herself be mugged this close to her destination.

  “I suggest you turn around and walk away real fast. No, not walk. Run. Run as fast as you can.”

  With a chorus of clicks, an assortment of switchblades and butterfly blades appeared in their hands. The gang leader flipped the knife over his fingers and around his palm, but Jane was not intimidated.

  “Really? You want to do this?” Her defiance caused murmurs of uncertainty amongst the muggers. They were used to their victims immediately surrendering and cowering in fear. “Well, come on then. Let’s get it over with.”

  Jane saw the leader give a quick nod and heard movement behind her. After being in the wild for so long she was surprised to discover her other senses had improved and she anticipated such a simple ambush.

  Jane nodded her head backward and heard a satisfying crack as she struck the boy behind her in the face. She dropped to her knees as he went to grab her again, causing him to trip over. He crashed to the floor and Jane stood on his back, one foot pressing his face into the sidewalk, and shocked herself by screeching wildly like some savage ape.

  The teenagers hesitated, then just as their leader raised his knife to strike, Tarzan’s feral roar answered Jane’s. The concrete amplified the ferocious cry. The gang looked around frantically, thinking a lion had strolled into town.

  Tarzan stood at the top of the three-story building next to them, poised on the corner and silhouetted by the moon. He howled again and beat his chest before jumping down.

  A parked car broke his fall. The roof buckled and the windows shattered, blasting the muggers with safety glass. The vehicle’s alarm began to wail as Tarzan went for the leader, grabbing the hand wielding the knife. Bones crunched under Tarzan’s viselike grip. The teenager screamed as Tarzan picked him up and effortlessly threw him through the windshield of another car.

  Most of the gang scattered. They had no intention of facing such a crazy man. Only two stayed to challenge Tarzan. One slashed his knife through the air in a figure-eight movement while the other pulled off a heavy chain he had been wearing across his chest and flicked it at him and Jane.

  The chain arced over Jane’s head, narrowly missing Tarzan as it slammed into a parked car, denting the door. Before the thug could retrieve it, Tarzan grabbed the chain and yanked the boy forward. He caught him in his crushing embrace. The boy screamed as Tarzan squeezed so tight that bones began to crunch.

  “Tarzan! No!” shouted Jane. Tarzan paused. The boy was crying and gasping for breath. “We don’t kill people in the city.” It was all she could think of to prevent bloodshed. “We have laws.”

  Tarzan stared at her for a long moment and Jane began to wonder just how she could make him understand. Then Tarzan dropped the boy to the floor.

  “Tarzan is law,” he growled.

 
The boy limped to safety. Jane and Tarzan looked around and saw the final mugger was still standing there, blade raised, frozen to the spot. Tarzan took one step forward. The teen dropped his knife and fled.

  Jane took her foot off the first mugger’s head and gave him a nudge with her foot.

  “You can go now,” she said lightly.

  The boy whimpered and bolted across the street as fast as he could. Tarzan gave Jane a disapproving look.

  “Tarzan not like civilization. Too much danger.”

  The sky was getting lighter and, as dawn approached, Jane urged him on. Soon they reached the base of the first skyscraper. Jane slowly swept the area with the scanner until the dot on the screen aligned directly in front of her. She looked up at the twenty-story apartment block straight ahead. It looked new, gleaming with white stone and glass, and the tracker seemed to be stationary up in the penthouse.

  “Rokoff’s on the top floor. Question is, how do we get inside?”

  Tarzan approached the entrance and ran a hand over the smooth walls. Then, to Jane’s astonishment, he took a running leap at the wall. His powerful leg kicked off from the smooth surface and propelled him higher. He landed on the narrowest of ledges, his toes hooking to grip as his strong fingers slipped into the flimsiest of gaps between the polished brickwork.

  “Come,” said Tarzan, indicating upward with a nod of his head.

  “I’ll wait here,” Jane said, knowing she couldn’t follow Tarzan up the wall. “You go in then come back down and open the door for me.”

  Tarzan continued his daredevil ascent, using the balconies as springboards to each higher level. Jane thought it was an impossible task without ropes and climbing gear, but Tarzan ascended the smooth structure with grace and ease. Never once did he pause or hesitate. Every action was fluid and natural. In just forty seconds he reached the top floor, where he flipped onto the balcony and out of Jane’s sight.

  •••

  Robbie flinched as the patio window suddenly imploded and Tarzan rolled into the apartment. Flecks of glass cut his back, but as usual Tarzan didn’t react.

  “Tarzan!” shouted Robbie, desperate to remind him that they were friends and not enemies. “They’ve gone.”

  Robbie was bound to a chair by a thick rope. Tarzan tore the ropes away and Robbie rubbed his limbs to restore his circulation.

  “Where Karnath?”

  “They’ve taken him. Where’s Jane?”

  “Jane outside. Where Rokoff go?”

  Robbie ran to the video intercom and saw Jane waiting at the doors downstairs. He buzzed her inside. “To a ranch . . . I don’t know where. This place belongs to Ataro Okeke, who ordered the kidnapping. He’s preparing to auction Karnath to the highest bidder.”

  Tarzan looked around the room, seeing the macabre display of dead animals decorating every surface. Robbie cowered as Tarzan vented his fury. He smashed display cabinets, casting their contents to the ground. He tore pelts from walls, threw the huge plasma-screen television through the window, and hurled the leather sofa into a thin partition wall, knocking off several mounted animal heads. The sofa lodged midway through the wall, hanging like a bizarre artwork.

  Jane entered during the rampage and watched as Tarzan suddenly calmed when he finally noticed the gorilla’s skull that had fallen from a shattered display cabinet. He gently picked it up and ran his fingers over the bone.

  “Karnath gone. Tarzan can’t find . . . Tarzan fail.”

  They had seen Tarzan pass through a range of emotions, but defeat was the most chilling. Jane couldn’t bear it.

  “But why did the GPS lead us here?”

  Robbie showed her the tracking marker that Rokoff had placed in his pocket before he had left. “He wanted you to find me and not Karnath.” But exactly why had been bothering him. What game was Rokoff playing? It was obvious Robbie would tell Tarzan about the ranch. Was that what Rokoff wanted? With the clock ticking, he didn’t have much time to dwell on that.

  Jane looked around the room. “If this apartment belongs to Okeke then there’s a good chance we’ll find information about his ranch.”

  Jane and Robbie began hunting through the cupboards and drawers, reading every scrap of paper they could find. Tarzan stood on the balcony feeling wretched as he watched the sun rise over Kampala’s urban sprawl. Traffic was beginning to clog the streets below and aircraft circled in the distance, their wings catching the sun as they prepared to land at the airport. It was a bleak, alien landscape to him.

  “Got it!” Jane suddenly said. “Look.” She spread out several documents on the floor. One was a map showing the layout and location of the ranch. “These are the deeds. Okeke owns all of this.” She tapped an address on the page. “We’ve got to get there.”

  “How?” asked Tarzan.

  Robbie grinned. “When they brought me here, I noticed some very nice cars in the garage.”

  20

  Rokoff had been on edge since they’d left Kampala and headed the fifty miles northwest to Okeke’s ranch. The hunter was happy in both the wilderness and the city, but today was different. He knew, without a doubt, that the greatest opponent he had ever met was on his heels and death came with him.

  Okeke had been keen to start the auction as soon as possible and sent word to the bidders that they, or their representatives, must be at his ranch by midday. Already the starting price for a young mountain gorilla in perfect condition had climbed to $400,000 as more bidders joined the auction.

  The ranch was well away from the prying eyes of the law and approachable only by a long dirt track from the main road. Despite the wide open spaces, Okeke kept the animals he traded in the stables where the small pens restricted their movement and made them easier to handle.

  Rokoff placed Karnath’s cage in an empty pen, then slowly walked back along the line of miserable-looking prisoners: an okapi, a pair of young giraffes taken when their mother was killed, a juvenile elephant, and a highly endangered baby white rhino. Rokoff had trapped most of them. When the animals were first caught they were noisy and aggressive, now they were quiet and passive. The fight had been beaten out of them and replaced with fear.

  Rokoff crossed to an open corral outside the large wooden mansion, which was kitted out with the very latest technology; the roof was clad in solar panels and a large satellite dish hung from one end.

  Parked outside were several vehicles that had arrived in the early morning; these belonged to private collectors for whom money was no object and obtaining the rare and protected species was a badge of success. Rokoff had no interest in the bidding. Although he hunted for money, cash wasn’t important to him. It was just a useful aside to what he enjoyed doing. He looked through the window and studied Okeke entertaining the collectors. Several laptops were open displaying satellite video feeds of other collectors who were unable to make the meeting at such short notice.

  He sat down in a swing chair on the porch, his hunting rifle across his lap. He had stripped and cleaned the Saiga with meticulous care, wiping away the moisture from the jungle and the dust from the savannah.

  He peered down the winding driveway as a trail of dust rose; the telltale signs of an approaching vehicle. Out here, the flat dusty plains made it impossible to launch a surprise attack. Rokoff’s fingers tightened around his rifle as he waited to see who it was.

  •••

  Tracing Okeke’s ranch on the map had been pretty straightforward. Jane found several car keys in the apartment and they took a heavy-duty Range Rover from the garage. Within an hour and a half they would reach the ranch but they had no plan on how to tackle Rokoff and Okeke once they were there. This would be the last chance to rescue Karnath and both Robbie and Jane thought a direct assault would prove disastrous.

  “We don’t have Numa, Sheeta, or Tantor here to help this time,” cautioned Jane. “Rokoff has guns and you know he’s not afraid of using them. Even you can’t stop a bullet, Tarzan.”

  Robbie nodded. “And who knows what k
ind of security Okeke will have at the ranch.”

  “Tarzan hunt Rokoff to the death,” snarled Tarzan.

  Jane sighed. “If we just run in there and bullets start flying, then what about Karnath? He could get shot. We have to think about this carefully.”

  Tarzan stared stubbornly through the window. He was restless and eager to end the hunt.

  “There’s another thing we should think about,” said Robbie suddenly. “Rokoff knew I had planted the tracker on him. Why was he letting us follow him?”

  “Rokoff like Sabor. Play with prey not kill straight away.” Tarzan indicated to Robbie. “You still alive because of this.”

  “Why would he do that with us?” said Jane.

  Robbie shrugged. “Because he can? People like Rokoff love watching the misery of others. He’s just like my stepdad.”

  Jane felt uneasy but couldn’t pinpoint what bothered her. She knew Rokoff was a ruthless manipulator, but toying with them all this time, almost killing them with every step . . . it didn’t make sense.

  “We need some heavy muscle,” said Robbie, breaking Jane’s train of thought. He glanced at Tarzan. “If you can’t get an army, maybe I can.”

  Jane frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  Robbie pointed ahead to a building complex off the side of the road: Its sign read “Uganda Wildlife Authority.”

  There was a gleam in Robbie’s eye. “Let’s hit Rokoff where it hurts.”

  •••

  Rokoff relaxed when he saw a Hummer growl up the driveway and the last bidder climbed out, hurrying into the house. With everyone assembled the auction could now begin. Rokoff watched dispassionately as Okeke’s ranch hands led two young giraffes over to a small pen next to the house. The potential buyers could sit in air-conditioned luxury and look at the animals through large floor-to-ceiling windows. Okeke was determined to sell his whole stock today and was keeping Karnath back as the prize exhibit.

  Rokoff would get a bonus if the sale exceeded expectations, but he wasn’t interested in the auction—from where he sat, he couldn’t hear anything inside the house. The hunt was over for him.