The Jungle Warrior

by Andy Briggs

  •••

  It took close to an hour for Okeke to persuade the remaining bidders to stay. They insisted on seeing for themselves that their attacker had been subdued and came to view Tarzan in the pen, bound like some muscled freak-show exhibit. Only when they were satisfied that the wild man was no threat did the auction continue.

  Rokoff stayed with Tarzan the whole time—he didn’t trust Paulvitch not to do something rash the moment his back was turned. The elephant and rhino were led from the pens and Paulvitch accompanied them, announcing upon his return that they had sold for more than Okeke had imagined possible.

  The last item was Karnath. Two of Okeke’s security men, who bore fresh scars from their encounter with Tarzan, carried the whimpering ape’s cage from the outhouse. Tarzan gave a series of low coughs, but said nothing.

  “That’s the last you’ll see of him,” sniggered Rokoff. “After he’s sold they’ll ship the lot of them out. Then you’re next, my friend.”

  Tarzan said nothing. He didn’t rise to the bait.

  The minutes passed slowly then the security team returned to deliver the animals to their new owners.

  “Let’s see if your family’s ready to see you,” Rokoff said jauntily.

  Although usually highly composed, Rokoff found himself gripped by an excitement he had not felt since the early days when he began hunting. Capturing Tarzan was the pinnacle of his career. Executing him was the only way the hunter could truly claim he had beaten his quarry. He had plans to mount the wild man’s head next to the silverback and white rhino he had on the walls of his private collection back in Moscow.

  Okeke was entertaining his guests with champagne while he waited for their money transfers to be wired to his account. Rokoff kept away from the crowd and sat in the corner using one of the few laptops Tarzan hadn’t destroyed to send a message through to the Greystokes to initiate the video-conference. As he waited for a reply, his leg shuffled nervously, a teenage habit he thought he had lost long ago.

  “And this is the man who made everything possible,” Okeke suddenly said. Rokoff looked up as Okeke waved an arm toward him and beckoned him to stand. All eyes fell on Rokoff, gleaming with respect and curiosity. “Nikolas Rokoff, undoubtedly the world’s greatest hunter!”

  Okeke initiated a round of applause and the champagne in his hand spilled everywhere. He was elated from the sales, which, in spite of the earlier mayhem, had gone better than expected. Karnath had sold for $800,000 to a wiry German—an agent for a wealthy sheikh.

  The applause surprised Rokoff and he found himself suddenly fielding a barrage of questions about how he had managed to capture so many exotic creatures and avoid the authorities. No sooner had he finished one story than the eager audience asked for more details and a glass of champagne was thrust into his hand. Rokoff didn’t notice Paulvitch slowly back out of the room.

  •••

  Paulvitch was a coward who thrived on petty feuds and picking fights with the weak. Although he would never admit it, Paulvitch was quite happy lurking in Rokoff’s shadow. But that was before Tarzan’s beasts had scarred him for life.

  Paulvitch didn’t share Rokoff’s desire to execute Tarzan for the viewing pleasure of the Greystokes. He was impatient and believed showing them a dead body would achieve the same result, but Rokoff was hearing none of it. Paulvitch was too cowardly to kill the ape-man himself, but now that Rokoff was distracted he hurried back to Tarzan with the intention of inflicting serious pain on him. If Rokoff wanted to make the final kill, fine—Paulvitch intended to push Tarzan to the point where he would be pleading for death.

  Tarzan looked up as Paulvitch entered. As soon as he saw the wild man, he was consumed with resentment. He drew his hunting knife and pressed it against Tarzan’s throat.

  “Look at what you did to me!” he snarled, his self-control vanishing. “Look at my face! I should kill you right now!”

  Tarzan lifted his neck, exposing his veins as a clear taunt to the Russian.

  “You don’t think I’ll do it, do you? Like him, you think I’m weak!”

  Paulvitch’s anger blotted out any common sense he possessed and he began pacing back and forth, never taking his eyes off the ape-man while he ranted.

  Although his movements were restricted, Tarzan was still able to move his legs and body. No knife could slice through the steel mesh binding him, but the bottom of the net, around his ankles, was tied with nylon climbing rope—something that a sharp blade could easily cut through.

  Paulvitch moved close, spittle flying as he spoke. “I’m stronger than you, monkey-man! I’m going to make you scream my name!”

  He crouched and pressed the knife to Tarzan’s throat once again. The move put Paulvitch off balance. He had only the stump to support him but it hurt to put pressure on it.

  It was the opportunity Tarzan was looking for. Ignoring the knife, he headbutted Paulvitch in the face. The Russian howled as his nose broke and he reeled against the wall.

  “Aargh! That’s enough! You’ll die by my hand!”

  Paulvitch lunged forward as Tarzan spun around and raised his legs to defend himself. Paulvitch anticipated the attack and slashed the knife in a series of uncoordinated blows. The first bounced from the wire mesh around Tarzan’s legs. The second sliced through the rope and stabbed his calf. Tarzan registered the pain with a gruff snort—then kicked Paulvitch with all the strength he could muster.

  Paulvitch smashed through two wooden pens before crashing against the wall. His back throbbed in pain, but he clambered upright now determined to slay the wild man there and then.

  Tarzan stood and pulled the wire netting off his body. Paulvitch saw the ragged nylon rope at the base of the net and realized his mistake. The Russian charged forward with a scream, hoping to reach the wild man before he could fully free himself.

  •••

  Rokoff’s keen hearing picked up the faint shrill scream over the noise of the conversation. His gaze swept the room.

  “Paulvitch!”

  Rokoff pushed past a red-faced American bidder with whom he had been sharing hunting anecdotes and powered to the stables as fast as he could. He took several steps into the building then froze. Paulvitch was swinging from the rafters, the metal net that caught Tarzan now a noose around his neck. His eyes bulged, his tongue was swollen; he had died a painful death.

  There was no sign of Tarzan. Rokoff suddenly realized his only defense was the small pistol in his jacket. He drew it and spun round, shooting into the dark corner behind him.

  There was no Tarzan.

  He swept the gun to the rafters—the ape-man was not there. A dull thumping noise caught his attention outside and slowly he backed into the daylight. Standing away from the building, with plenty of space around him, he felt a lot safer than he had moments ago. The animals near the vehicles were becoming restless; the noise was scaring them. Rokoff shielded his eyes and peered into the sky. He tracked the noise and saw a pair of helicopters swoop low over the plains toward the ranch. Rokoff was certain they were not part of Okeke’s plan. He ran toward the mansion, taking cover by the pens.

  Okeke and the bidders stepped outside to see what the noise was, just as the choppers banked around the ranch. They were Bell UH-1 Hueys, sporting Uganda Wildlife Authority logos.

  Everybody panicked as they realized the trouble they were in. One Huey hovered over the compound, the rotor’s downdraught creating a cloud of dust that sent the caged animals into a frenzy. Rokoff saw the side door slide open and he recognized Milton Muwanga from the UWA’s frequent press statements, sitting half out with an automatic rifle aimed on the crowd. Next to him sat Jane and Robbie, pointing at Rokoff.

  Milton’s voice boomed over a loudspeaker. “This is Uganda Wildlife Authority. On the ground! You are under arrest!”

  A second Huey landed a few hundred feet away and armed UWA security filed out, rifles raised. Everybody dropped to their knees, including Rokoff. He cursed his decision to keep Robbie ali
ve, but he had needed the boy as bait to lead Tarzan the final steps to the ranch rather than rely on the GPS tracker alone. Knowing Robbie’s past he had assumed he would never turn to the authorities for help. A costly mistake.

  As the security team moved in, Rokoff calculated his escape route. There was no way he would allow himself to be caught. He fell backward and swung his leg out, breaking the lock on the elephant’s cage. The young elephant immediately bolted. Scrambling to his feet, he did the same with the rhino cage and it too raced for freedom. The young animals caused a stir among both the surrendering men and the rangers. Dust from the rotors added to the confusion and gave Rokoff the chance he needed to open Karnath’s cage and pull out the shrieking ape. The little gorilla was almost as strong as Rokoff. He bared his fangs and bit deep into the Russian’s arm.

  Rokoff shrieked as Karnath drew blood, but he continued to hold Karnath close and ran for the house.

  In the helicopter, Milton took aim at Rokoff—he had a perfect shot—but he hesitated when Rokoff turned and used the ape as a shield.

  Rokoff carried the struggling gorilla inside. Then he took off his jacket and threw it over Karnath’s head. The trick seemed to subdue the ape a little and he started to whimper. Quickly, Rokoff found one of Okeke’s tranquilizer guns and shot a dart into Karnath’s back.

  Outside, Milton’s Huey landed and the troops piled out. Robbie and Jane followed, keeping well behind. Unsmiling rangers already surrounded Okeke and his men.

  Rokoff knew he only had seconds to make his escape. He shoved the tranquilizer gun in his belt, grabbed his hunting rifle, and picked up the drowsy ape. The dart contained just enough sedative for Okeke to subdue any animal that might become too frisky for his clients while still keeping it awake.

  Using Karnath as a shield, Rokoff held out his rifle with his free arm. He smashed through a window at the back of the house just as Milton led the raid through the front door.

  Rokoff ran for the first chopper that had landed. The rangers were six hundred feet off to the side, surrounding Okeke’s group, so he had a clear run to it.

  Behind, Milton’s team had stormed through the house, following Rokoff’s trail through the rooms and back out the rear doors.

  “Stop!” Milton shouted from behind.

  Rokoff half turned and bounded sideways toward the helicopter, while firing at the same time. The rifle’s powerful recoil almost kicked the weapon from his hand. As he was unable to aim, it was nothing more than a warning shot, but it had the desired effect, forcing Milton and the UWA rangers to hit the deck. With the gorilla in the way, they didn’t dare return fire.

  The pilot hadn’t seen Rokoff approaching from his blind spot just behind him to the right. As soon as he saw movement he reached for a pistol stowed under his seat—but he was too slow and a second later Rokoff was pointing the rifle menacingly at him. The pilot raised his hands, moving slowly so as not to alarm the Russian.

  “I can’t fly this thing if you shoot me,” said the pilot as bravely as he could.

  Rokoff threw Karnath into the back of the Huey, then pulled the tranquilizer gun and shot the pilot in the chest.

  “I’m afraid you’re not needed,” purred Rokoff, booting the man out of the helicopter.

  Milton stood and sprinted for the chopper just as the Russian throttled the engine and the aircraft rose from the ground. Several rangers opened fire, bullets pinging from the fuselage.

  “NO!” screamed Jane.

  “Hold your fire!” shouted Milton. “The gorilla’s on board!”

  The helicopter wobbled as Rokoff fought the controls. It had been a while since he had piloted one, but it soon came back to him. The nose dipped and the Huey shot forward—so low that everybody was forced to hit the ground.

  At the controls, Rokoff laughed as everybody ducked out of his path. Then he saw movement from the ranch. Tarzan swung from a top-floor window and somersaulted onto the hot solar panels on the roof. He sprinted along the angled panels as the chopper flew alongside.

  Rokoff pulled on the collective, making the aircraft rise. Tarzan’s intentions were clear—but leaping aboard would be impossible, so Rokoff thought.

  Tarzan jumped from the rooftop without any fear of the spinning rotor blades while everyone watched in horror, expecting him to be shredded.

  But Tarzan had no such anxieties. For him, this was no different from navigating through the tree-tops. He soared under the rotors and caught the landing ski with both hands. Momentum sent him under the fuselage and as he swung back he flexed his arms and flipped through the open slide door, into the cabin.

  Rokoff was searching the ground to see where Tarzan had fallen. The thrashing rotors masked any sound from inside the cabin as Tarzan picked up Karnath and held him tight. The little ape’s arms had just enough strength to hold on.

  Rokoff caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned in the pilot seat, inadvertently leaning on the stick and banking the aircraft to the left.

  “That’s impossible!” he screamed, his words almost lost in the roar of the engine.

  Tarzan didn’t have time to talk. He just wanted justice. As the helicopter sharply angled under him, Tarzan punched Rokoff so hard across the face that teeth flew out and bounced against the canopy. Rokoff fell against the stick, sending the chopper into a nosedive.

  Revenge would have to wait. Tarzan’s priority was to get Karnath to safety. He stood at the doorway and braced himself with one hand, holding Karnath in the crook of his other arm. The ground was rapidly catching up.

  •••

  Jane saw Tarzan jump from the Huey seconds before it completed its uncontrolled arc and ploughed into the middle of the mansion. Dust obscured Tarzan and her gaze was drawn toward the devastation as the roof collapsed, solar panels shattering. The Huey’s rotors severed and the aircraft tipped onto its side.

  Jane braced herself for a huge explosion, but instead a massive cloud of debris shrouded the scene and the smell of fuel grew stronger.

  “Run!” shouted Robbie, grabbing her hand and sprinting from the building.

  Then the leaked aviation fuel set alight, ignited by sparking electrical wires exposed within the mansion. The helicopter blew apart and the explosion struck the middle of the house like a wrecking ball, effortlessly demolishing walls and floors.

  Okeke watched in despair as his mansion was torn in two, but then he was forced to duck for cover as burning wreckage fell around him.

  “Tarzan!” Robbie screamed.

  •••

  Robbie and Jane stayed with Milton for an hour. The fire had spread through the building and razed it to the ground with surprising speed, spitting fat black ashes across the plains. Okeke and his clients were handcuffed and taken to UWA trucks when they arrived on the scene. The caged animals were taken to a vet and a team of rangers went looking for the stray elephant and rhino. Milton assured Jane that they would be humanely caught and safely relocated.

  An immediate search of the wreckage revealed no sign of Rokoff, Karnath, or Tarzan. Robbie and Jane had watched silently, dreading what they might find. The lack of bodies confused Milton, who swore that nobody could have escaped the disaster and got past his men.

  He sheepishly approached Robbie and Jane as they sat on the tailgate of a truck. He gazed around, almost unwilling to look them in the eye.

  “I suppose I owe you an apology for not believing you, eh?”

  Jane shrugged. “You did in the end. That’s what counts.”

  Milton nodded, then finally looked at them with an embarrassed smile. He offered his hand. “Congratulations. You broke a major international smuggling ring.”

  Robbie winced as Milton crunched his hand. “I think you should take all the glory for this one.”

  Milton smiled; he wouldn’t say no to being branded the hero of the hour. “If you insist, but I will still need your details to contact you so we can follow up the investigations.”

  Robbie hesitated, but Jane s
moothly chipped in. “No problem. We’re staying at the Hilton in Nakasero Hill. We’ll be there for another two weeks. Ask for me, Mary Winter.” She had no idea where the pseudonym came from but there was no way she was going to use her real name.

  Robbie had a flash of inspiration. “And I’m Robbie Canler, from New York.”

  Milton nodded as he wrote the names in a small notebook he kept in his breast pocket. He didn’t see the shocked look Jane gave Robbie.

  When Milton was taken aside to process Okeke and the others, Robbie steered Jane toward one of the bidder’s jeeps. The keys were in the ignition, and they took it, slipping away without anybody noticing.

  Jane gave directions from a map she found in the glove compartment. They were soon bouncing along a rough track and eventually stopped at a crossroads, parking in the shade of a lone acacia tree ten miles from the ranch. This was the predetermined meeting spot they had arranged with Tarzan: an easy decision, as it was the only landmark for miles. Jane only hoped nothing had gone wrong and he could make it.

  Minutes blurred, and Jane estimated an hour had passed before the long grass suddenly moved and Tarzan stepped out with a wide grin, Karnath knuckle-walking along by his side. The tranquilizer had worn off by now and the little ape jumped into Jane’s arms. He was more cautious about Robbie, but encouraged by Tarzan, the young ape soon allowed Robbie to stroke his greasy fur.

  When Jane told Tarzan that Rokoff had disappeared in the crash, Tarzan just studied the landscape thoughtfully. Nothing further needed to be said.

  •••

  Without the constant pressure of pursuing Rokoff, the journey home was a little more leisurely. Tarzan had an impressive sense of direction in retracing their steps, this time driving around Lake Victoria and across Tanzania. They were able to refuel the jeep using a credit card Robbie had taken from Okeke’s apartment.

  After a day, Robbie used his satellite phone to call Clark.

  “Robbie? Where the heck are ya?” There was no enquiry as to their well-being, just straight to business.