Suddenly, a movement in my peripheral vision distracted me. It was a man on his knees, in a begging position. I was as certain as I could be that it was the same DRC officer who’d captured us earlier. Standing over him were two soldiers, both young and gangly, wearing uniforms that were a size or two too small, as if they’d taken delivery of someone else’s laundry. One of them secured the officer’s forearms on top of a tree stump. The officer was wailing and speaking rapidly in a language I didn’t understand and that wasn’t French. Then the other man swung down several times with a machete, and the officer’s arms came up, without hands on the end of them, blood spurting from the stumps.
The officer screamed long and hard and the hair on my head stood on end.
‘Jesus . . .?’ West whispered.
The Asian guy came out of his tent again briefly to investigate the noise and then went back inside, uninterested.
The officer howled as he bent double, curled over his spurting stumps. The guard and his pal who had done the machete work reappeared with a metal poker, its end steaming. They pulled the officer back on his haunches and smoke rose as each wound was cauterized while the victim shrieked.
I tapped West on the shoulder, and we wriggled backward. The tents, including the one occupied by the Asian guy, obscured a third of the clearing. Though we’d seen enough in one sense, our reconnoiter wasn’t complete. I led the way on my stomach and forearms around the clearing’s circumference, moving slowly, trying to get the picture of the officer having his hands chopped off out of my mind.
The position of the underbush on the other side of the clearing allowed us to crawl to within ten meters of Twenny Fo and Peanut, close enough, perhaps, to let them know that help was near, though of course it wasn’t. Giving our position away to the armed guards wouldn’t help our principals or us, or the folks depending on us to return. Twenny stumbled a little, and his arms pulled upward behind his back against their natural range of motion. He cried out in pain as he regained his footing. A couple of the guards wandered over to check on him, but then lost interest when they saw that the prisoner’s bonds were working as intended. Dickfucks. They had to know Twenny was an American, but did they know what he was worth? Maybe they did. Maybe, as I’d suggested to Leila, the possibility of a ransom with a big payday was keeping Twenny Fo and Peanut in possession of all their appendages, at least until . . . until what, exactly? Did this theory also account for Fournier and Ayesha’s absence? Had they killed them because they couldn’t cough up bags of loot?
I heard a roar above the sound of the ravine. Rain. It moved across the HQ like an attacking formation.
West motioned with a tilt of his head to take a look at the Asian’s tent.
Ayesha was being led away from it by two guards. She was naked, cowed and terrified, some kind of fruit jammed in her mouth, her hands tied behind her back. The guards took her to a trestle table barely discernible in the night shadows and tied her to it face down, securing her wrists to the table legs. One of the men, joking with his buddy, undid his fly buttons, pulled out his dick and jerked it around a few times until he was happy with its condition, then rammed his way into her from behind while she struggled, twisting away from him, grunting in terror. His pants fell around his ankles, and the man pulled back to speak with his pals. He wasn’t happy about something. That something was resolved for me when I saw them each take one of Ayesha’s legs, force them wide apart and bind them to the legs of the table.
I backed away, my face hot, muscles twitching with anger.
‘Stay here,’ I whispered to LeDuc, then signaled West to follow.
I was back on my stomach, pushing through the mud, keeping to the shadows, slithering fast through the bushes. On this side of the HQ, the rain together with the water rushing through the nearby ravine was making a hell of a racket. I lost visual contact with the compound for a brief period while I skirted around some bushes armored with thorns. When I regained it, the tactical situation was in danger of becoming Defcon Fucked Up. Number one rapist had blown his load, number two was undoing his fly, and now a third guard had joined them. West and I were outnumbered, and it was only a matter of time – moments, perhaps – before more of these fuckwits got the scent and wandered over for their turns.
The front of the trestle table was hard up against a massive tree trunk. I came up behind the tree, with West at my shoulder. I could hear Ayesha whimpering, making the sounds of the utterly terrified and powerless. I turned to West and signaled what I wanted him to do. He shook his head vehemently. I repeated the signal and mouthed that it was a direct fucking order. I unsheathed my Ka-bar and waited while he pulled his. I gave him no choice. The plan was only going to work if we did it quickly, and together. I got down low and had one last look at the angles, because the first few steps coming around the tree would be blind. Then I moved around behind the trunk to the opposite side and, using my fingers, gave West a count of three.
Three.
Two.
One.
Walking around the tree, nice and casual, I resisted the desire to run past the front edge of the table, keeping my mind on the job by counting steps. The asshole bending over Ayesha glanced up helpfully, presenting his throat. I slid the Ka-bar across it, making sure the steel found his jugular before I finished the slice and he had the pleasure of watching his own blood mingle with the sweat and rain on Ayesha’s ass before slumping over her, dead. I took another step past him, angling the knife so that it would slip unhindered between the fourth and fifth rib of the number two party guy. I buried the blade almost to its hilt, venting the fucker’s heart, his mouth open in a big silent ‘O’ of surprise. He was a corpse before the surprise left his lips. I lay him down in the mud for the first few moments of his eternal rest, stood on his chest, and pulled the knife free. West took out number three guy, giving him a smile from ear-to-ear with his Ka-bar that made him gurgle softly. Apart from that, there was no sound. We gave them no warning and made no mistakes. Neat and professional. None of the other guards even looked our way. I gathered the dead soldier’s weapons, a submachine gun and two M16s, and patted down the bodies for extra mags.
The deceased were tall but not heavily muscled. I pulled the body off Ayesha, laid him beside his limp buddy, then grabbed both their lapels and dragged them behind the tree. Twenty meters beyond it was a screen of bush, then a drop into the ravine. I reconnoitered it quickly. Satisfied that the area was clear, I dragged the bodies behind the bushes and rolled them into the roaring darkness but didn’t hear a discernible splash over the sound of the churning waters. I prayed that they were gone, washed downstream by the torrent, and not jagged on a rock or hung up on driftwood where they would be easily found come morning. West dragged the other corpse to the edge.
‘Strip him first,’ I said, before going back to Ayesha.
I cleared her mouth, cut her bonds and stuffed them in a pocket, and then helped her off the table. She whimpered and cringed away from me.
‘It’s Cooper,’ I whispered.
But Ayesha was still afraid, unable to see past the DRC uniform. I grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a quick shake.
‘Ayesha, it’s me, Cooper.’
She swallowed and blinked and grabbed my forearms, her nails digging into my skin.
‘Cooper,’ she whispered, as if pulling herself out of a nightmare.
West put the dead man’s shirt over her shoulders and handed her a pair of pants. I scouted the ground quickly for signs of a struggle. There was plenty of blood, but the rain would take care of that. Leaving no indication of what had happened here would be a big help. West put a finger to his lips so that Ayesha knew the drill. We still had to get around the other guards and make our way out. We led her behind the back of the tree and crawled into the bush on our bellies. We picked up LeDuc where we’d left him, then found the tree I’d put in charge of the satchel and the M16.
There were four additional weapons to pull through the mud in silence, making
the outbound journey slower. We kept heading for the rear, toward the flatter ground behind the HQ, where there was less chance of crawling into someone. We encountered no pickets and quickly found ourselves in unoccupied rainforest. But as the adrenalin wore off, exhaustion set in.
I watched Ayesha walking ahead, silently pushing aside the foliage with the barrel of one of the captured M16s. She was a combat veteran now and, like me, she’d have the nightmares to prove it.
Enemies
Approaching Cassidy, Rutherford and Ryder in complete darkness and dressed in enemy uniforms was probably more dangerous than infiltrating the FARDC’s lines. Three of us had gone out two hours earlier, so it made sense that only three of us should come back; only, now there were four of us. LeDuc and I came forward with Ayesha – she didn’t want to be left on her own – with our hands raised high. I made the prearranged signal: a short, low whistle.
A whistle came back.
I relaxed. We lowered our arms and walked toward our encampment, West not far behind.
‘Ayesha,’ Leila cried out when she saw her makeup artist’s silhouette in the dark. She ran down and threw her arms around her friend. Aye-sha wept and buried her face in Leila’s neck, and the two women stood there sobbing in each other’s arms, their shoulders quaking.
Eventually I heard Leila say, ‘You’re safe now, honey. Safe,’ as she stroked the back of Ayesha’s neck.
Boink and Ryder gathered around the two women.
‘Ayesha – you okay?’ I heard Ryder ask his old school chum. She nodded. The nightmare was hers and she didn’t want it shared around. I knew that feeling. If she kept it to herself, then maybe it never happened.
Cassidy and Rutherford pulled West and me aside, leaving LeDuc with the principals. ‘What about Twenny and Peanut?’ Cassidy wanted to know.
‘They were alive when we left them,’ I said. ‘And all of them still had their hands.’
‘What?’ said Rutherford.
‘Tell you in a minute,’ West replied, gesturing at the civilians. They were still within earshot and what we had to report was not for general consumption.
‘Hey, Cisco, where’d the ponchos come from?’ I asked. Several of them had been strung up to provide shelter from the rain.
‘They walked here. A FARDC patrol – three men. They’re over there, getting cold and wet,’ Cassidy said, nodding uphill, ‘though I don’t think any of them will mind. At first we thought you were another patrol out looking for their lost buddies.’
‘What changed your mind?’ I asked.
‘You weren’t singing and smoking like they were,’ said Rutherford.
‘They were carrying these.’ Cassidy showed me a submachine gun.
I pulled mine out from behind my back and said, ‘I think they grow on trees here.’
‘The QCW-05,’ Rutherford said. ‘Made in China.’
‘Ain’t everything?’ I replied.
The QCW was a handy weapon. I’d tested one on the firing range back at Andrews – a rate of fire up around four hundred rounds per minute, a fifty-round magazine, a reasonably accurate sight, and less weight than the M16. Best of all, it was silenced.
‘There was a Chinese guy back at the FARDC HQ,’ I said.
‘Chink weaponry, Chink advisor,’ said West. ‘Gotta be related.’
I took several more steps away from our civilians and West, and debriefed Cassidy and Rutherford on what we saw: numbers, layout, weaponry, conditions, pickets, naked babes on playing cards, and so forth. I also told them about the officer and what had happened to him.
‘As punishments go, makes latrine duty seem rather tame,’ Rutherford observed.
‘What about Ayesha?’ Cassidy asked. ‘How’d you pull that off?’
‘There was a window. We took it,’ I said.
‘And no window for the others?’
‘If there was, we’d have taken it,’ West said.
‘Ayesha was kept a little apart from the rest and the isolation worked for us. We could take out the men guarding her without alerting their buddies, but that wasn’t an option with Twenny and Peanut.’
‘How many were on her?’ asked Rutherford.
‘Three.’
‘Three guards for one prisoner?’
‘Maybe they thought she was dangerous,’ I said, not wanting to go into details. Ayesha had made West and me promise to keep the rape a secret and neither of us was prepared to break that trust. I changed the subject. ‘Fournier is MIA. No sign of him.’
‘You think he’s still alive?’
‘I wouldn’t put money on it. They rocketed the chopper. Maybe they’ve got a special dislike for the UN.’
‘Guard numbers overall?’
‘Twelve that we saw,’ I said.
‘Can they be rescued?’ Cassidy asked.
‘The guards seem happy where they are,’ I replied.
Rutherford grinned. ‘You lifted one of their prisoners. Surely alarm bells must be going off down there now?’
I glanced over at our principals, who were now having a group hug with Ryder and LeDuc.
‘We fxed it so they might not know what happened to Ayesha and the men guarding her,’ I said.
‘So there is a chance we could get the others?’ said Cassidy.
‘My honest opinion? No,’ I said. ‘It’s a suicide run. They aren’t good soldiers by our standards but they have modern weapons and plenty of them, and you can’t ignore the numbers. And leaving all that aside, lifting them from the HQ isn’t the problem, it’s getting away. How do we vacate the area? There’s no handy Chinook on a hilltop with Apache gunships flying air support. We don’t have the tools for the job.’
I put my hands on my hips and the cans in the satchel I was carrying clanked together. Food – I’d forgotten about it. I dropped the bag on the ground and tins spilled out of it, to which I added the ones stuffed down my shirt.
‘What’s on the menu?’ asked Rutherford
‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ I said.
‘Lucky dip. Every army’s favorite.’ He leaned down and picked up one of the cans, and then examined it in the darkness before giving it a shake. Liquid slopped around inside.
I hadn’t eaten in six hours. My endocrine glands had been keeping me going and, now that I thought about it, I was hungry enough to eat bark. Prior experience told me that the first twenty-four hours without sustenance were the worst. Get past them, and the next few days aren’t nearly so bad. Go without food for longer than four or five days and the body starts to go out on strike. Water was more critical, but there was plenty of that around. We just had to make sure that what we drank was clean. I glanced at our civilians, who were still huddled together. Maybe I could sell the rationing to Leila as a miracle military diet. All I had to do was figure out how to work astrology or Kabala into the program and she’d swallow it, no problem. Boink, I wasn’t so sure about.
‘We need to move further away from the FARDC’s lines,’ said Cas-sidy. ‘If they sent one patrol out here, they’re gonna send another, even if it’s just to go looking for their missing buddies.’
He was right about that. Cassidy, Rutherford and I rejoined the principals while West assumed the watch.
‘Thank you for giving Ayesha back to us,’ said Leila, her voice thick with emotion.
‘Yeah, thanks, Vin,’ said Ryder. ‘And Mike,’ he said a little louder. West gave him a quick wave without looking back over his shoulder.
‘We were lucky,’ I told them. ‘Right now, we have to move.’
‘But it’s night,’ said Leila.
‘The best time to do it. We’re too close to the enemy here.’
‘What ’bout Twenny and ’Nut?’ asked Boink, slapping the mosquitoes on his neck.
‘Strategic withdrawal,’ Rutherford said. ‘You know, we pull back, make a plan . . .’
The big man didn’t buy it. ‘You leavin’ him behind, yo,’ he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, angry, disappointed, a
nd helpless.
‘No one’s getting left behind,’ I told him and waited for lightning to strike me dead because, as things stood, we really didn’t have very much choice but to leave Deryck and the others to whatever fate held in store for them.
‘Bull fucking shit, motherfuckers,’ said Boink, seething, seeing through the lie.
‘You can’t leave them behind,’ said Leila. ‘No sir, I won’t allow it.’
Ryder opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off with a look before he said something he’d regret.
‘We need to move because the danger is still too close.’ I didn’t wait for consensus. They got the drop on us once; next time we might not be so lucky. ‘Get your personal items and let’s go. Leave nothing behind.’
None of the principals moved.
‘Now,’ I said.
Still no movement.
‘Hello?’
Ayesha began to walk and resistance from the others crumbled. Our principals seemed to give a collective shrug and put one foot in front of the other. I wasn’t going to complain. We stopped by the nearest anthill. West kicked the top off the mound, and wiped his face and neck with the foul-smelling dirt while he explained why.
‘I’m not doing that!’ Leila exclaimed.
‘Malaria is not something you want, ma’am,’ said West. ‘It’s a bitch to get rid of. You get chills, fevers, enlarged spleen and liver. Get it bad enough and it’ll kill you. The mosquitoes carry it, along with Dengue Fever, Philariasis and River Blindness. The dirt mixed with dead ant will keep them at bay.’
‘No.’
Ayesha rubbed the dirt on her neck, face and hands. Boink did likewise.
‘There’s no paparazzi here,’ I reminded the celebrity.
‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’ she said as she resigned herself to what she considered ignominy and smeared a handful of dirt on her cheeks.
‘Whatever gives you that idea, ma’am?’
‘You’re smiling.’
I looked away and took Cassidy forward to scout the path ahead. The volume of water coming down the hill was mind-boggling, the ground criss-crossed by rivulets gurgling, splashing and dribbling. We picked our way silently in the dark through the dense foliage, heading for the deep, rumbling sound of a massive volume of water tumbling and boiling in a confined space; a waterfall, perhaps. It turned out to be a ravine like the others we’d encountered. I reconnoitered upstream a hundred meters while Cassidy headed down and found us a fallen tree to use as a bridge. Fifty metres further on, another ravine. We crossed this one by wading through a waist-deep pool of icy water where the current wasn’t as strong. With luck, the ravines were natural barriers that discouraged patrols. Not far beyond this second ravine, we came across three trees in a clump, surrounding a small room-sized clearing. Thick liana vines hung down from branches hidden somewhere in the total blackness of the canopy. This was as good a place as any to hole up and get some rest. It was two thirty-five in the morning and we were all dead on our feet.
Ghost Watch Page 14
