Dangerous Deception - A Short Story

by Anne Patrick

  Another patrol car arrived and two more officers joined them.

  “I think we better head back to the orphanage,” Tom suggested.

  After no answer, Jack hung up and turned to his friend. “They better not lay a finger on her.”

  Tom wrapped his arm around Jack’s shoulder. “C’mon. She’ll be all right.”

  “You guys go on. I’ll be there as soon as I get some answers.”

  * * * * *

  A man identifying himself as Major Anthony directed Gwen to a metal chair centered in the middle of the room. On the ride to the police station her fear had turned to anger, a trait that had served her well over the years when faced with extreme danger. Under no circumstances was she going to let these so-called good guys scare her into a confession.

  “I’m an American citizen. You have no right…”

  “I know who you are, Miss Jacobs, I have your passport,” he spoke in English with a heavy accent. “According to which you were in Liberia last year?”

  “That’s right. I’m a journalist.”

  “Bringing us to the reason why you are here. I’m sure you were made aware of the new press guidelines when you registered at the embassy and were warned that any journalist found guilty of publishing reports adverse to operations of government forces would be prosecuted.”

  “I’m well aware of your regulations, Major. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “What would you call collaborating with a known leader of the RFAGC?”

  “I did an interview with the man, we didn’t trade international secrets.”

  He glanced at her backpack. “Did you record your conversation?”

  “No.”

  He took the backpack and dumped the contents onto the table.

  “Hey, scumbag!”

  He turned sharply as if to strike her and Gwen immediately clamped her mouth shut. She watched him rummage through her things, thankful she had left her notes back at the orphanage.

  After searching through the empty notebook, he tossed it on the table, his glare hardening. “Where are your notes?” he demanded.

  “Am I being arrested? If so I wish to have a representative from the embassy present for this interrogation.”

  He ignored her plea. “What did the two of you talk about?”

  “I asked about the murders and the other atrocities taking place and he told me mercenaries for hire were the ones responsible.” She hoped if she cooperated a little they might let her go.

  “That is a lie.”

  “I didn’t say I believed him.”

  “What else did you talk about?”

  “His upbringing; where he went to school.”

  “Keep going.”

  “That’s about it. It was a short interview.”

  “I want your notes.”

  She knew if she handed them over they could be used as evidence against her if a trial came about. “Look I’m sure you know more about this man than I do.”

  “Where are your notes, Miss Jacobs?”

  “I tore them up and threw them away after I sent my post yesterday.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I think you better call the embassy because I’m not answering anymore of your questions.”

  “Very well.” He opened the door and motioned for the young soldiers.

  She quickly gathered her things and shoved them back into her backpack. Before she could slip it over her shoulder, he grabbed it from her.

  “You won’t need this any longer.”

  Gwen watched the two men come toward her. Her heart felt like it was going to burst. A hundred thoughts ran through her mind. She’d been in a lot of sticky situations during her career, but she had a feeling this could turn out to be the worst.

  Neither of the men acknowledged her as they took hold of her elbows and led her from the room.

  Where are you taking me?” She demanded.

  They escorted her down the corridor and down two flights of stairs. The rank smell of rotting sewage assaulted her senses. When they reached what she assumed was the basement, they led her to a door in one corner of the area.

  Fear gripped her as thoughts of their intentions filtered through her mind: Would they rape or torture her? Would they kill her? She thought of her notes. She should just tell them where they were. A prison sentence wouldn’t be as bad as some of the things she knew these men were probably capable of.

  One of the men yanked the door open and motioned for her to enter.

  She leaned forward to peer inside and they shoved her down the two steps. Quickly gaining her balance she turned toward the door just as it slammed shut and was locked. “Animals!” she screamed, slamming her fists against the door.

  Gwen took in her surroundings. It appeared to be an empty storage room with a cement floor and four walls covered with peeling white paint. The only window in the room stood a good two feet above her head with four metal bars on it allowing a steady stream of sunlight to filter into the room.

  For the next hour and a half, she passed her time counting the forty-seven cracks in the ceiling and watching a lone fly buzz back and forth across the room. She thought of swatting it once when it landed on the wall near her, but figured she’d probably miss the entertainment it provided.

  The sound of footsteps stole her attention away from the fly that she’d fondly dubbed ‘Fred’ and she turned toward the door just as it opened. She quickly recognized her visitor as one of her earlier escorts.

  With barely a glance, he sat a tray down on the top step. “Eat,” he said and closed the door.

  She waited until she heard the click of the lock before venturing toward the tray. After glancing at the plate full of rice and flat bread she opted for the sealed container of fruit juice. “It’s all yours, Fred. Bon appetite.” But the fly didn’t seem to want any part of it either, as it continued to flutter on past.

  It wasn’t long 'til the soldier returned. “Done?” he asked as he picked up the tray.

  She nodded. “Hey, do you think maybe I could get a light bulb in here?” She glanced up at the empty light socket in the middle of the ceiling.

  He followed her gaze then shook his head. “No light.”

  “I know there’s no light, it needs a bulb. Surely you have an extra bulb in this hell hole.”

  He shook his head again. “No light.”

  “Okay, how about something to sleep on or maybe a chair?”

  He shrugged his shoulders and then turned to leave.

  “Please. I can’t sleep on the floor. It’s cement.” Her plea fell on deaf ears, though, as he quickly shut the door and locked it.

  Moments later, she regretted her ingratitude at the sound of running water. She looked over and saw a steady stream rushing underneath the door and down the steps. Within minutes, the water had covered the soles of her tennis shoes.

  The sound of laughter filtered through the door.

  “I hope you all rot in hell,” she shouted back.

  When the water reached the calves of her legs, she started to worry. She glanced up at the window and then toward the door, wondering how deep it would get before the pressure would cause the door to give way. Just about the time she came to the conclusion of breaking out the window once she was able to reach it, someone pounded on the door.

  “Sleep well,” was followed by more laughter.

  Instead of an acknowledgement, she was thankful the water, now at her knees, had stopped. She was even more thankful for the streetlight directly outside the window as darkness began to fall on her surroundings.

  The eerie silhouette of the bar-framed window displayed on the wall prompted memories from a year ago to come filtering back to her mind. She thought of the many nights she and Michael had spent in the compound of square huts that filled the village of Kirabo. At least they’d had hammocks to sleep on, she recalled, as she kicked her leg causing a spray of water to fall across the silhouette.

  She thought again of Kirabo. The villagers,
known for their warmth and hospitality, had welcomed them into their modest homes and shared their meager meals throughout their stay. She had made many friends in the months they’d spent interviewing the ex-rebels. Their wives, leery of her at first, had, in the end, become very fond of her, sharing everything from recipes to lessons in Krio. But Gwen and Michael had taken advantage of the situation to gain the respect and recognition of their colleagues. Though warned repeatedly of the danger and consequences the village would face if the RFAGC were to find out, they had continued reporting to the BBC.

  In an attempt to keep the memories at bay, she stared out at the moon hovering just above the windowsill and began to hum the hymn Evelyn sung while she fixed breakfast that morning. ‘Amazing Grace’, was one Gwen remembered fondly from childhood. She wondered if God would extend that grace to her for what she did in Kirabo.

  * * * * *

  Tom met Jack at the door of the orphanage. “Thank God, you’re all right. Where’s Gwen?”

  “They’ve locked her up. They won’t even let me speak to her.” He followed them into the dining room and collapsed in the nearest chair. He’d spent the last four hours phoning everyone he could think of that may be able to help. So far, his efforts were fruitless.

  “Have you contacted the embassy?”

  “I’ve got a call into Craig Whittmier, he’s on the staff. Hopefully, he’ll return my call.” If they didn’t get Gwen out soon, there was no telling what would happen to her. If only he had prevented her from doing that interview.

  “She’s going to be okay, Jack.”

  “I sure hope so. I’ve grown rather fond of her.”

  Tom smiled. “We all have.” He put his arm around Jack’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go have some coffee and think this thing through.”

  Chapter Nine

  Gwen’s morning was just as miserable as the night. The sun had been up at least two hours, its morning rays heating up the small room like the inside of a furnace. Standing knee deep in water she still had sweat dripping from her forehead. She had just completed lap fifty-five around the room, to loosen up her stiff muscles, when someone pounded on the door. Turning sharply she met the amused expression of an unfamiliar soldier.

  “Come,” he said as he held the door open.

  “It’s about time.” She followed him up the stairs. “I want to see someone with the embassy. I’m not answering any more questions 'til I do.” If the soldier understood her, he didn’t acknowledge it. “You’ve got some nerve treating a U.S. citizen…”

  “Gwen.”

  She glanced up. “Jack,” she screamed and ran into his arms.

  “Gwen Jacobs?”

  She raised her head from Jack’s shoulder and met the curious look of the stranger standing behind Jack holding her backpack.

  “Craig Whittmier, he’s with the U.S. Embassy,” Jack said. He eased away from her, but continued to hold her hand. “He’s been working all night to secure your release.”

  Gwen extended her hand to him. “Guess I wasn’t the only one who didn’t get any sleep. Thank you.”

  “Why are you soaked?” Jack asked.

  Only then did she realize she had gotten him all wet. “Sorry. The scumbags tried to drown me last night.”

  General Anthony cleared his throat. “In order to isolate her from the male prisoners we had to hold her in the basement. Unfortunately a pipe busted and there was some minor flooding.”

  She turned around to face him, “Liar!”

  “I think we’d better get her out of here,” Mr. Whittmier suggested to Jack. They both took an elbow and led her from the building.

  “Are you okay?” Jack asked once they were outside. Only then did he release her hand.

  “I’m fine. I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to see anybody as I was to see you.”

  Mr. Whittmier led them to an awaiting black sedan. “You’re a lucky woman, Miss Jacobs. There’s been at least a half dozen journalist’s killed or injured in this region in the last year.”

  “I know. Thank you, thank you both for getting me out of there.”

  “Just be thankful they didn’t find anything in the search of your apartment.”

  “They searched the apartment?”

  “Demolished it is more like it. Poor Evelyn has been up since sunrise trying to get things put back together.”

  She thought of her notes underneath her pillow and wondered how they could have missed them.

  “There is a country wide censorship on the press. I urge you to take that in consideration when doing your story.”

  “Please know I would do nothing to jeopardize any hopes of a peaceful solution to this war.”

  “Then I trust there won’t be any more clandestine meetings with the RFAGC?”

  “You have my word,” she promised. “Standing knee deep in water with only a wall to lean against was lesson enough for me.”

  “You must be exhausted,” Jack said.

  “And hungry.”

  “They didn’t feed you?”

  “Rice and bread, and I hate rice.”

  “Well, get in and I’ll buy us all breakfast,” he offered.

  * * * * *

  Over breakfast, they discussed the events of the past year. Craig Whittmier, a few years older than Jack and Gwen, had seemed annoyed with the situation at first, but was now less anxious. Gwen suspected it was the change of scenery. As an employee of the embassy, he had probably heard the horror stories about the military and police.

  “I relayed to the president what Jack told me of your interview with General Kabassa,” Craig said.

  “Then he knows about the deadline.”

  “Yes. He has already acted on the tip. Nigeria has deployed thousands of troops who are to be flown in between now and the first of the year.”

  “I take it the peace talks have been postponed?”

  “They’ve been on hold since the diamond district fell into the hands of the rebels.”

  “So, you weren’t surprised by the suggestion of a possible coup?”

  “No, but we didn’t know Kanneh was backing the movement. We knew he was friends with Chidike, but we didn’t figure he would risk unrest in his own country.”

  “I imagine gaining control of the diamond district played into that equation,” Gwen suggested. “Greed is a powerful motivator.”

  “Were they really considering letting Chidike out of prison,” Jack asked.

  “Not very likely. Too many people want him dead.”

  “I think General Kabassa was counting on that,” Gwen said.

  Craig took a drink of his coffee, his gaze resting on her. “We appreciate you cooperating with us, but in doing so you’ve placed yourself in a very dangerous situation. To be on the safe side, I’m going to have one of our security team keep an eye on your group.”

  “I appreciate that,” she answered.

  “I suggest you think seriously about evacuating as soon as possible, though.”

  “We’re hoping to wind things up by Sunday,” Jack announced.

  “We are?”

  “According to Craig all foreign governments have started evacuating their citizens and embassy staff. If we stay behind we do so at our own risk, and that’s not something I’m willing to do.”

  Gwen considered the deadline Michael had given her. If she filed the story now, there was no telling what impact it would have. Whether Kabassa had lied or not, it could divide the country in half.

  * * * * *

  When they arrived back at the apartment, Evelyn met Gwen at the door and greeted her with a bear hug. “Oh dear, I was so worried about you. Those men, they were so frightening. I’m sorry to say they tore your room apart searching it.

  Gwen ran into her bedroom. It looked as if a tornado had been through it. Going to the bed, she picked up the pillow that lay askew near the head of the bed and searched underneath. “There were some notes here. Do you know what happened to them?”

  “Oh my…I’m afr
aid I threw them out the other day when I was cleaning. They were lying near the waste basket and I just assumed it was trash.”

  Gwen remembered tossing and turning that night, thinking about Jack’s kiss. She must have knocked them to the floor. Gwen stepped to the woman and gave her a hug. “Bless your heart.”

  “Then they weren’t important?”

  “Not anymore.” Michael may ruin her career, but at least she wouldn’t be the cause of anymore lives lost.

  Chapter Ten

  Sunday morning, a large explosion rocked the orphanage. Gwen jerked her eyes open. For a brief moment, she thought she was back in Afghanistan. Shoving back her sheet, she settled on the side of the bed and reached for her robe.

  The bedroom door burst open and Celeste came in with a horrid expression plastered across her face. “We’re leaving for the airport in fifteen minutes.” She gathered her suitcases she packed the night before and moved back to the door. “Hurry, Gwen. Rebels have breached the security posts on the north side of the city. They’re moving through neighborhoods systematically burning people out of their homes.”

  “I’m coming.” Gwen shimmied into her jeans and t-shirt. She thought briefly of Michael’s deadline. He was going to be livid, but she didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was making sure Celeste and the others got out of there alive. “Have Robbie and Kay decided what they’re going to do?”

  “They’re staying. Omar is driving us to the airport.”

  * * * * *

  Downstairs, Gwen was met by several of the children she had come to love over the last week. It broke her heart to leave them, knowing the possibilities. Tears welled in her eyes as she knelt and hugged each one.

  “We need to get moving.” Jack placed a hand on her shoulder. “Omar, will you take her bags to the van?”

  Gwen stood just as Tau tugged at her hand. “Be safe,” he said.

  She peered down at his angelic face. His bright smile hit her like a ton of bricks, breaking her reserve.