Darkness

by David Fletcher

  ‘So what happens now?’

  ‘Well, unfortunately our police procedures require that you provide a written statement of events…’

  ‘I saw a blast. That’s all…’

  ‘I know, sir. But our procedures require this. I’m sure they’re much the same as those that exist in your own country. And Inspector Harrack and his… assistant… will take you through what needs to be done. And while you’re doing that, I will get on with what I know you want me to do: find out who killed your wife. And my apologies, sir, for not offering you our… erhh, I’m not sure I know the word.’

  ‘It’s “condolences”, or “sympathy”. And thank you. I appreciate it – along with what you’re doing now. And by the way, I really want to stay here while you conduct your enquiries. I’m sure you understand.’

  ‘Of course. We would want you to stay anyway. Whether you realise it or not, you are an important witness.’

  ‘A witness! But I…’

  Dan stopped himself.

  ‘Sorry. But I’m still very upset.’

  ‘Of course you are. And I’m sure Inspector Harrack will take that into account. But now I must get on with my work. I hope you understand.’

  And with that, the smartly dressed sergeant stood up and made for the office door. He opened it and was about to walk through it when he turned and asked Dan a question. He made it sound no more than a trifling request.

  ‘One thing,’ he started. ‘Did you notice a red car near the restaurant?’

  Dan jumped out of his seat. He felt as though he’d received an electric shock.

  ‘No! Not near the restaurant. But there was one. It followed us. I’m sure of it!’

  The sergeant looked inexplicably indifferent to Dan’s energetic reaction and acknowledged it with an incurious response.

  ‘OK. That might be helpful.’

  Then he was through the door and Dan heard his footsteps taking him rapidly away. He wanted to follow him. He wanted to quiz him on exactly what he knew about that car and who might have been in it. But the opportunity had been snatched away from him, just as suddenly and unexpectedly as had his wife two days before. And he now realised that he had no energy to do other than stay in the wretched office of this wretched inspector and apply himself to complying with his wretched rules. He would provide him with the meaningless written statement he required in the full knowledge that it would end up in some dusty lever arch file and serve no purpose there other than to assist it in the gathering of more dust.

  He would just have to hope that Sergeant Azoulay knew what he was doing and knew more about that red car than he was prepared to tell. Albeit even if he proved himself a super-sleuth, he could do nothing to bring Kim back. Of course, nobody could…

  twenty-four

  It was a de Brazza monkey, another male, just like the one Dan had seen five days before out of Lango. It was unmistakable, particularly in its facial features. With its orange brow, its white eyelids and its matching white muzzle and beard, it was like no other monkey on Earth, and it could easily be identified, even by a novice such as Dan. Indeed, so unique was its facial appearance that it had earned it another name, one derived from its supposed similarity to the face of a particularly pious person of the recent past. This was the Grand Ayatollah Khomeini, the gentleman who used to run things in Iran, and accordingly the de Brazza’s unofficial alternative name was the Ayatollah monkey. Although probably, thought Dan, not in Iran.

  However, it wasn’t the monkey’s appearance that was of significance this morning, but it was that it had made an appearance. Because Dan had learnt enough about the habits of this shy and retiring creature to know that it rarely, if ever, moved more than two hundred metres from a river. River courses were this animal’s chosen habitat. The riverside vegetation provided virtually all the nourishment it required and the proximity of the river made it a refuge as well. It would take an exceptional food source, such as a fruiting fig tree, to coax any de Brazza monkey out of its riverine comfort zone. But nothing of the sort was apparent this morning. The monkey was just sitting on a branch of a tree, not feeding but just looking warily at these two interlopers in its kingdom. And Dan was therefore able to deduce that he and his talented minder were now very nearly at their destination. The remote Lodié River could be no more than two hundred metres away at most.

  In the event, it was no more than fifty metres. David had succeeded in bringing his charge through miles of dense forest out of the Republic of Congo into Gabon, and had this last morning taken just two hours to deliver him to the waterway that would now constitute the next stage of his singular quest. Dan was both relieved and elated – relieved that he would no longer have to trudge through the forest and elated at the sight of the river. It was simply beautiful beyond words.

  It was relatively early in the morning, and the river’s silky smooth waters flowed through a canyon of greenery that was still wreathed in mist. It hung about the trees in a soft haze and turned a scene that was already sublime into something that was almost magical. And in this near-magical setting there was abundant life. More de Brazza monkeys were on the far bank. A squadron of green pigeons flew overhead. Nearby were assorted flycatchers and bee-eaters. And sitting in a tree directly above where Dan and David were standing was a red-chested cuckoo. It was almost too much for Dan to take in, particularly as he had not forgotten why he was here, and he knew he had some business to conduct. In fact, David was already in the process of getting this underway. He was busy at the edge of the river, pulling a pile of cut vegetation to one side to reveal a canoe.

  It was pale green and, in Dan’s eyes, it looked ridiculously small. He immediately wondered whether he’d be able to get into it and, if he was able to, whether he would ever be able to get out of it. Then there were his doubts concerning whether he could pilot the thing and not turn it over in the process. A magical setting, it appeared, could not extinguish his anxiety or the trepidation he felt at the prospect of soon being on his own – indeed, just as soon as David had prepared the canoe and concluded a briefing, a briefing that would take barely any time at all.

  ‘There are two paddles,’ he started, ‘in case you lose one. Just make sure you don’t lose two.’

  David wasn’t smiling. He meant what he said.

  ‘The other stuff,’ he said, pointing to the canoe’s interior, ‘is what Mike said you’d want. And there’s room in there for your rucksack as well. I suggest you put it towards the back.’

  Dan nodded to acknowledge David’s advice, and then David wound up his briefing with a question.

  ‘Anything else you need to know?’

  Dan hesitated. Surely there was something else he needed to know. After all, it couldn’t be time to go already. Surely not. And there were so many unknowns…

  Nevertheless, he could think of nothing to ask David, and after a slightly awkward hiatus, he finally replied to David’s question.

  ‘No. No, there isn’t anything. I think I know… well, everything I need to know. And if I don’t…’

  Here, he shrugged his shoulders and grinned awkwardly. At the same time he realised he felt awkward. How was he going to say goodbye to this enigmatic man before him who knew so much about so many things but not everything about his companion’s immediate intentions? All he would know for sure was that his companion planned to canoe downriver, and all he could have deduced was that he wasn’t planning to come back. Other than that, he could only guess what the future held in store for this odd stranger. Albeit he wouldn’t guess. Dan just knew he simply wouldn’t entertain any such guessing. Instead he would just accept that this middle-aged white man had come to a decision and that he was now putting into practice that decision, and that was entirely his affair. Dan had needed some help – which David had provided – but that was now at an end and Dan should be allowed to go on his way. With no questions and no vulgar guessing.


  At the same time, Dan could not just disappear with a hurried ‘thank you’ and a firm handshake. He knew he needed to do a little more. And he did. He started by expressing a hope.

  ‘David, you’ll remember what I said last night – about hope. And you’ll remember your reaction, just as well as I do. But despite that, I really do hope that you and your friends are left alone here. I hope “progress” never knocks at your door. Or, if it does, you are able to decide how far to let it in.’

  David looked unresponsive, but Dan carried on.

  ‘As a good friend recently told me, don’t underestimate yourself. And here, I’m talking about you. I’m talking about one of the most remarkable people I have ever met. Somebody who, if he wanted to, could play a big part in keeping any unwanted progress at bay. And I very much suspect you will.’

  David now wore a quizzical look on his face but remained silent.

  ‘It might make more sense when you think about it,’ continued Dan, ‘but right now I’d like you to think about me and how grateful I am for what you’ve done for me. Because I am. I’m bloody grateful and I can’t begin to thank you enough. I’m only sorry we didn’t meet until now…’

  Dan had run out of words, and David seemed to spot this immediately.

  ‘I thank you,’ he announced. ‘And I won’t forget what you have said. I know you mean it.’

  Dan smiled and found his voice once again.

  ‘Right. Well, it’s about time I was off.’

  And with that, he shook David’s hand, then threw his rucksack into the bottom of the canoe and began to push the canoe into the water. With David’s help, he managed to seat himself inside it, and as he armed himself with a paddle, David stood away from the vessel and said just two words.

  ‘Go well.’

  Dan turned to look at him one more time, and he responded with a simple ‘I will’. Then he was away, the languid current of the river taking him downstream at a pace that soon took him out of sight of his departure point and into his very own exclusive world. This part of Gabon was even emptier than the area he’d abandoned in the Congo.

  It was little surprise, then, that he felt a huge surge of relief. Finally he was where he needed to be, and now – if only he could learn how to handle this canoe – he was also fully in control of his fate. Accordingly, he focused on his paddle-craft, and after only a very short time he understood how to use a paddle to the greatest effect while being propelled down the river by the river itself. Essentially, one needed to resist using it too much and allow the river to do most of the work – until such time, that is, as one wanted to make contact with the bank of the river in order to deal with some further essential business. Dan wanted to do this as soon as possible, and within ten minutes of leaving David, he was deploying his paddle to bring his canoe to rest at the side of the river, just next to a huge recumbent tree that would act as a convenient impromptu mooring. When he had satisfied himself that his canoe would not drift away from its berth, he then took his rucksack from behind him and began to rummage through its contents. Soon he had found what he wanted: the package Mike had given him back in Ngaga.

  He held it before him for some time, just looking at it. Its appearance was unremarkable. It was just a brown paper parcel tied with twine and with the dimensions of an undersized house brick. Eventually he opened it. He was able to tear back the twine and then tear off the paper – to reveal a translucent plastic container complete with a translucent plastic lid. This he prised off easily, and then he found himself just looking again, at what the container held, for what seemed like minutes.

  He knew, however, that he couldn’t just look indefinitely. So, he indulged himself in a huge sigh, and then he took from the container a small cut of raw meat, and without hesitating he began to bite it. This was not easy, but marginally easier than swallowing the small chunks he’d bitten off. That made him almost retch every time. But eventually he managed it. Nothing had come back up and nothing remained in the container – other than a small glass vial…

  It took him a minute to gather himself, but then he got on with tackling this. He took it out of the container, broke its seal and downed its contents in one gulp. He couldn’t fail to register the strange metallic taste of the blood, but it wasn’t anything like as bad as dealing with the meat. Nevertheless he soon had a water bottle in his hand, and he lost no time at all in putting some of its contents to good use. They could at least purge the aftertaste of what he’d consumed, if nothing else. Because they certainly couldn’t undo the probable impact of what he’d consumed. Nothing could. At least not out here in the middle of this infinite forest.

  That was Dan’s firm belief as he once again deployed his paddle, first to extricate his canoe from the embrace of the recumbent tree, and then to take it further down the river – and further towards the purpose of his trip.

  twenty-five

  His first night on his own had been tough.

  In all his years on this Earth, he had never spent a night “under the stars”. The closest he had come to doing that was over the previous two nights when he had shared with David a rudimentary shelter and a sense of at least a little protection from the surrounding forest. And, very significantly, there had been David. No matter how insubstantial the refuge, there had been someone else there to provide him with a passive reassurance. His first night on the river had been very different.

  To start with, it had been a long one. He’d brought his active downstream navigation to an end mid-afternoon. Despite some less than energetic paddling, his shoulders had begun to ache terribly, and even using the paddle as just a rudder had become really difficult. He’d also become aware that he needed to find a suitable spot at the side of the river that would provide some sort of shelter and some sort of safety from the local wildlife, especially from the crocodiles that he had now established frequented this river. He was further aware that he was totally ill-equipped to find such a combination of shelter and safety, and the best he could hope for was somewhere that would provide him with just enough confidence to allow him to sleep.

  In the event, and after drifting down the river and examining its banks for almost an hour, he’d found a location that might just serve his purposes very well. It wasn’t easily accessible – but that was its primary attraction. If he could get to it only with great difficulty, a crocodile might have even more difficulty. It was at the top of small cliff of dried mud, a section of the bank that rose steeply from the water and that would require all of his energy to scale. This he did after he had secured his canoe to a convenient tree root at its base with a length of rope and a multitude of unconventional knots. And to make this ascent as easy as possible, he brought hardly anything with him. Accordingly, he could look forward to an overnight stay in his elevated refuge with just a lightweight bedroll, a bottle of water and an energy bar. Cooking and even making a fire were out of the question. He had neither the skill nor the desire to do either, and instead he just wanted to catch up with his situation mentally, after first confirming in his mind that this really was a refuge that he’d found.

  It did look quite promising. At the top of the small cliff was a ledge overlooked by another small cliff, and to one side there was a thicket of dense greenery and to the other side were the buttresses of a huge tree. Crocodiles would definitely find it a challenge to get here, albeit quite a few other animals would have no problem at all. But at least they wouldn’t arrive with the teeth and the instinctive predatory habits of an armour-plated killer.

  Sufficiently content with his choice – and knowing also that he’d probably find nowhere any better – Dan laid out his bedroll next to one of the tree buttresses and then laid himself down. He then tried to take stock of his situation, to process what he had now done and what would result from what he’d done. However, it proved almost impossible. There were not that many, but there were just enough sweat bees around to distract hi
m from his task. And there were sounds, sounds that demanded his attention simply because they were sounds that he had never heard before. Some, he knew, were bird sounds; low booming noises and various different high-pitched calls. But there were others that were not made by birds. They were snuffling and scratching sounds – and he was quite sure he heard the sound of something slithering.

  It was not yet dark, and already he was experiencing what it meant to be in a strange environment, one full of so many unknown creatures and so many unknown threats – whether real or imagined. He therefore abandoned his stock-taking and instead nibbled on his meagre food supply. When he’d then washed this down, he turned his entire attention to the sounds around him, not really through choice but just because they so demanded his attention. Still he could interpret only a few of these, and when the light began to fade – alarmingly quickly – he found himself still unable to interpret most of them but only too able to regard them as the herald of all manner of unwanted visitors.

  The worst were the indistinct slithering and rustling sounds – sounds he’d been half aware of the previous two nights, but from within the haven of a small shelter. Now it was so different. He had nothing between him and the source of those sounds – and nothing to stop anything approaching him, touching him or climbing on top of him. Indeed, for that matter, he had nothing to dissuade the attention of a host of smaller creatures that might make no sound at all but that, with their pincers, mouthparts, mandibles or tiny claws, might take an intimate interest in any part of his body.

  Ultimately, he simply accepted that he was frightened and that, in his situation, any other forest novice would be equally frightened, and maybe with good cause. This helped a little. As did the fright-induced exhaustion that began to overtake him. So that, after less than an hour of darkness, he dropped off to sleep, his bedroll now fashioned into a pillow and his bed comprising assorted leaf litter and whatever lived within it. If anything arrived now, with or without an interest in his unconscious form, he would only ever know about it if it nibbled, stung, scratched or bit him. And, indeed, he dropped into such a deep sleep that he might not even have been aware of any of these assaults on his form, other than possibly a particularly serious bite, such as the sort provided by a croc…