He reaches across to take my bribe from my hand while I push down firmer, not letting the payoff go just yet. His yellow tinted eyeballs meet my firm stare again. Words are not required right now. I judge from his face this has been done before. He leans back and calls the official who promptly looks up and spots the bribe still under my hand. He walks closer and, as quickly as the mobile phone appeared earlier, it disappears into his pocket.
My intuition tells me to let go at this point. My eyes though are still locked on theirs. I can sense Quinn, standing dead still behind me, grinding his teeth. I'm certain he stopped breathing five seconds ago, but I dare not look away now.
The official reaches for the stamp and hands the payoff to the controller who quickly slips the notes under the ink pad before stamping both passports. He pauses, as if to warn me, and hands them back before slipping the cash out from beneath the ink pad into his pocket.
"Next!" he shouts signaling us to move on.
I elbow Quinn who still stands rooted behind me.
"Come. Let's go!"
My legs resemble the jelly in Mrs. Parsons' Christmas trifle. Somehow the adrenaline of my new found corruption talent propels them forward with the agility of a gazelle.
"Keep up Quinn. We're not out of the woods just yet. We need to find our way to the pickup. Hurry!"
"What about our luggage?"
"We'll have to send for someone later. We NEED to go now Quinn."
Soundly aware of several police officials' watchful glances, I walk on. I am fully aware that they have already been informed to either keep an eye on us or wait for another opportunity to gain payoffs.
"I can't believe you pulled that off. That was amazing! How did you know they were going to take the bribe? Where did you, in any event, learn how to do that?"
Quinn's admiration does not quite grab my attention. My senses are on high alert while I try to maneuver us through the busy airport.
"Where are we going?"
"The Pick-up. We have to find our way out of here. Let's just hope the ground team got the message and had someone ready and waiting. My father has always had a knack for rounding up the best ground teams. But I don't have the foggiest if Professor Keating managed to relay a message to them or not. Unfortunately, we do face the odd chance that they were also captured or worse, killed when they kidnapped my father."
"Well, what if the ground crew aren't at the pick-up?"
Fear grips me in my throat. They had better be waiting for us, or we are as good as dead.
"Africa is spectacularly beautiful but if you face their bad side the people can be your worse enemy. And judging from our first encounter, we're not likely to be off on a good footing. Someone will be waiting for us, I'm sure."
Quinn's tanned face drained a pale grey as he realized, what he thought was going to be a walk in the park, might change his life forever.
Once through the airport's South end, we slip through the maintenance exit. This is the one spot in the entire airport not covered by a surveillance camera. Knowledge Professor Keating somehow acquired. I dared not ask how. We are now in Africa though and judging from how quickly those officials took the bribe; I'm guessing he bought the intel in much the same way. Chuffed that we appeared to have lost the entourage, we pause for a couple of seconds making sure no one spots us.
Please God let them, someone, be outside. The end of the corridor drags as we hurriedly move closer, eventually flinging open the heavy steel door.
"Lakicia!"
Hearing the sound of my Swahili name overwhelms me with immense relief. Several years have passed since I experienced such delight.
"Jelani! Golly, you are a feast for my eyes, my old friend."
"Me too Lakicia. You have been gone for too long but come; we go now. We talk later. Militia they follow me. Ol' Jelani still faster." and he chuckles without a care in the world.
"I've missed you, my friend," I say in his native tongue, met by his surprised look that I still speak Swahili.
"Lakicia, you still remember? How many years and you still remember the language?" he quickly replies, smiling to reveal several missing teeth.
"The two of you do realize that I don't speak a word of Swahili, so I frankly don't have a clue what you're saying. But be that as it may, I'm hoping you remember we have some assailants chasing us?"
Seeing my old friend, Jelani with the Jeep again was refreshing so much so that I clean forgot about Quinn and the imminent danger behind us.
"Sorry Quinn. Meet my old friend, Jelani. We spent a lot of time together as children. His father was my father's trusted mshauri. He taught him everything he needed to learn to survive here in Tanzania. Jelani, this is Quinn. He's apparantly one of the top students at the university, or so I'm told. Trustingly he has a hidden skillset to help me find my father underneath all this."
"I am not so sure about that Lakicia. His clothes say the opposite." letting out another chuckle while skimming Quinn's formal attire.
"Okay, okay. I still can't understand what the two of you are saying, but I am no one's fool. I'll change my clothes okay?" hopping into the Jeep's backseat and loosening his shirt's buttons while Jelani speeds off towards a dirt road behind the hanger.
Chapter Three
Charles
"We know who you are Professor so give us da key! We can do this da easy way or da hard way."
My jaw throbs under another punch in response to my silence. I'm sure this one dislodged my tooth. The harsh metal taste of my blood fills my mouth as I try to catch my breath and spit a ball of saliva in his face.
"So... den you choose da hard way? You stupid bastard!"
The blow to my stomach crouches me forward, and I struggle to breathe as he circles around me and comes in for another punch. My weak legs give out beneath my tortured body. The giant behind me tightens his grip on my bound arms forcing my body upright as another blow thrusts into my stomach. That one hurt.
"We can do dis all day, Professor. Your sissy assistant not here to rescue your sorry ass. Better give up and tell us where to find da key."
In spite of his broken English, his voice is hoarse with impatience. I'm not sure how long I can keep this up. I'm no longer the spring chicken from thirty years ago. Back then I would have given this buffoon a whipping he would never forget.
The blood gushes from my swollen eyebrow making it nearly impossible to use. I recall how the rebels ambushed us in the village and all hell broke loose. The ground team scattered all over the place. I lost sight of Eric when they pulled the black cloth-sack over my face. I did recognize the gunshot. One single bullet. Is it possible that Eric got shot?
Yes, they're busy torturing him for information too. For all, I know they have by now killed him once they realized he did not see anything. Izzy was right. This boy is not hardened enough to cut this robust industry.
If they are torturing him, I am pretty sure he will die in vain. He doesn't have a clue as to where Rhapta is though. I was careful not to share too much information with him. In hindsight perhaps this is now his saving grace or maybe the very thing that got him killed.
I'm as good as dead if they captured or killed him. He no doubt did his job of relaying communications to the uni, despite the fact that he went M.I.A several times, but I'm not sure he was able to send news back to the uni in time about our whereabouts. No-one is aware of our location. I'm not even sure Alexandra heard anything when I tried calling her. I have to think of something to at least buy me some time. I seize the welcoming break from his punches as he stops to guzzle down his jug of banana beer. He comes over and spits a mouthful in my face.
"So you quiet Professor? You say nothing?"
"I don't have the key. I'm here on personal business. I told you. I've come looking for my wife".
"Ha! Your wife!" spitting out another mouthful of the drink as he chuckles in ridicule.
"Everyone knows your wife is dead Pro-fes-sir! She did not want to give up da key either you idiot."
I ignore his parody. I realize I only have one shot at this. If my plan works, fantastic, but if he doesn't fall for my schemes though, I'm dead. It is worth a try; I decide as I wait for them to finish mocking me.
"No, she's not."
"What you say, white man? You think I'm stupid?"
"No, I don't. My wife is alive. She's not dead. She called me from here a week ago, but the line was too bad and went dead. So I've come here to look for her. If I find her, I find the key. Then you can take the damn thing and let us go."
I dare not look up at him now. I'm sure he'll spot the deceit in my eyes, so I keep looking down at the stone I focused on through all his punches. The pebble helps me focus on the memory of when Alexandra and I picked up similar ones on the beach after Izzy died. We put them on her grave. She loved the ocean.
"Aikona, that is a lie. Sir. Who says he's speaking the truth? He's a liar."
The giant behind me speaks for the first time. I don't understand much Swahili, but Aikona I interpret to mean rubbish. The rest, however, is gibberish but I'm pretty confident he doubts my words.
Where's my sweet Alexandra now? My mind recalls her as a little girl playing with the village kids. She always did manage to click her tongue in exactly the right way reciting the Swahili rhymes. Being so young she picked up the language relatively quickly. My sweet little girl.
My happy thoughts are interrupted as the giant jerks my head back forcing me to look the Rebel leader in his eyes.
"If I find out you lie about dis Professor, I slice your throat with my knife."
As if that wasn't clear enough he emphasizes his threat with spitting in my face before he walks off.
My exhausted body aches from the beating, but grateful my bluff paid off. My feet drag trails in the sand behind me as the giant pulls me back towards my makeshift bamboo cell.
My body aches as I slump down sideways on the sharp stones purposefully laid down to extend my torture. I try shuffle onto my feet to lean back against the bamboo rods. He kicks me from behind which causes me to fall face down into the stones. Bloody bastard, I think, spitting out another mouthful of blood. His foot pushes heavy on my back forcing me flat onto the jagged rocks. The slicing sound of his knife taken out of its sheath triggers my body into a curled up ball as I await the stabbing.
This marks my end. My bluff failed. My life flashes before my bleeding eyes as I shoot up the last prayer for God to keep Alexandra safe. A vigorous tug at the rope around my still bound hands sends quivers up my spine as he slices into the ropes around my wrists. The ropes rip and scatter on the ground beside me. My hands spring free. Instinctively I cover my hands over my head and curl back into my fetal ball. Convinced he missed his mark, I ready myself for the fatal stabbing. But none come. Just deathly silence.
For the first time, I raise my head and face the giant who towers above me. Assumedly six foot, at least, with every bit the physique of a professional football athlete. His khaki military shirt and trousers carry stains of my blood mixed in with months of dirt and grime. His teeth are brilliant white against his black, sweaty skin.
I look full into his curry tinted eyes before he turns and fiddles with the lock to the bamboo door behind him.
"Water. I need water if I'm going to find my wife."
The giant freezes. My heart skips several beats, but I conclude that they could have killed me earlier if they wanted to. They have no idea if I'm leading them on or telling the truth so I've got them smack-dab cornered. For now at least.
Damn, I still have it. Balls of pure gold. Age might not be on my side but guts I have until the day I die.
Minutes later the giant is back with a bucket of water and a lump of ugali.
I haven't had anything on my lips since they brought me here. If I'm going to create an opportunity for escaping I have to eat and drink whatever they give me. Although the water is murky with dirt and the ball of dough is transported in his filthy, sweaty palms.
"You gonna look or eat white man?"
My hands open in the nick of time as he tosses the ball of Tanzanian staple to me. The dough is warm and grossly gooey and quite possibly days old, but I immediately take a bite unable to deny the hunger pangs that suddenly ambush me. The maize and milk mixture should sufficiently sustain me for a little while.
He swears at me under his breath and drops the bucket of water hard on the floor next to me causing the pail to almost topple over. Some of the brown, muddy water spills over the sides.
I salute him with two fingers in a mocking manner which of course he didn't appreciate evoking him to reciprocate with a forcible ejection of his saliva on my face.
You piece of rubbish. My mind fills with a long string of unsavory words I dare not say to the giant's face.
I have to keep my wits about me now. I'm ahead in the game, and these guys are fully aware. His eyes tell me that he would much rather kill me than only spit in my face. But his higher orders to keep me alive are abundantly clear. I need to eat and rest, so I build up my strength enough to endure my escape. I have one chance tomorrow when we all go off looking for a phantom Izzy.
I taunt him well enough by not reacting to his spitting and take another bite of the dough. I look him square in his eyes as he walks off. I will show no fear.
The sun is blazing hot though the sun sits quite low already. I hazard a guess and peg the time somewhere in the late afternoon. The sun is generally at its hottest around then. I have no idea how late in the day it is. They stole my wrist-watch along with the rest of my belongings when they captured me.
That wrist-watch was my last chance of being found. With any luck, they're not smart enough to figure out that it has a built-in GPS tracker. If they haven't switched the tracker off yet, the signal will lead the ground crew straight to me. As long as I'm with the rebels, that is, and as long as the ground crew is still alive.
My hands are filthy, but I scoop another few sips of the water. Most of the sand and grit now lies at the bottom of the bucket having let it stand for a bit. The water still tastes and smells like stinky feet, but it is water nevertheless and welcoming under the sweltering heat.
The night will fall soon, and the temperature will drop and most likely bring lots of rain. If they leave me in here, my sleep-over under the stars could make for a long, wet night.
The heat and exhaustion gets the better of me, and I pass out. A loud bang brings me back to a conscious state. I'm dreaming, so I lie back down. The sound echoes again. Not quite sure what woke me, I sit up looking around, noticing the sun has just about set. Clusters of rebels scatter in all directions running for any form of cover behind their bunkers and the trees. The sound of cocking guns and shouting commands come from every direction.
"What the..." They are under attack by most likely a rival group.
I lie down flat on the ground. The sharp edges of the rocks under my tummy pierce through my skin. I am wholly exposed here. Where the hell is the giant?
Someone unlock this cage! I am a sitting duck in this cell and as good as dead. Okay, think. What if I merely pretend I'm gone?
Yes. If I lay still, they might think I'm dead already and shoot at someone else. The shots fire off again. Undoubtedly gunshots! And they are coming closer.
I look around. I have no idea where I am since my kidnappers covered my head with the sack. The coastal regions are relatively familiar to me after all the years of exploring but without being privé to my exact location there is no telling where I am. I might as well be running blindfolded. As long as I run though, right?
If only there were a way out of this damned cage. I can't lie still. I have to try to break out of here. I kick the bamboo poles with my one foot and at that moment groan with pain as the sharp rocks cut my other foot open. I'm too weak. My feet are also too severely injured to inflict enough force on the bamboo poles. I rip my shirt, wet them in the little bit of water I have left and tie them around my bleeding feet.
I look for the giant who'
s still nowhere to be found, so I lie down again.
The nearby rebels who took hiding behind my cell are on-edge. Their nerves shot as they sit silently waiting in high alert, guns cocked and aimed, upon their pending attack.
Battles like these are a regular occurrence between the various insurgent groups to fight each other for territorial rights and power and whatever else they can find to argue over. I only have to devise a way of breaking through these bars if I am to stay alive. A rival gang will have no use for me whatsoever so kill me they most certainly will. My hands scoop around the base of the poles to try pull the bamboo sticks from the ground. They stand firmly planted, and my efforts deem futile.
I raise my head keeping an eye on the rebels and spot the giant squatting against the large tree directly behind me. He is probably standing guard over me, and he would have been ordered to keep me alive no matter what. I'm their passport to a sizable fortune when I lead them to the Key.
"Tell me about da key old man! You die today. Where is da key?"
The bloody key. For decades archaeologists and relic hunters have been scouring every nook and cranny down the coast in the hope of finding the Lost city of Rhapta.
"Nothing but a fairytale you idiot!" I shout back at him.
"I no believe! What is story? You say NOW!" He points his gun at my face.
"Believe me. I am telling you the truth. But if you must know. The story is said to be a Key which will unlock a sequence of riddles and clues that will lead to the golden door of Rhapta. We have no proof of a key ever existing. Legend tells us that something will unlock a secret passageway to the sunken city filled with chambers of gold, treasures and ancient relics. But no one has ever seen the key."
He scoffs at me, still in disbelief.
The idiots still haven't figured out that so-called key is in all probability, not a physical one but rather a solution.
ALEX HUNT and the Chase for Rhapta Page 3
