Death in the Congo: Book 5 in the Dan Stone series

by David Nees

  Dan looked at Santu as he stared up at Dan.

  “Do you understand me?”

  Santu nodded and dropped his eyes.

  I’d like to hear you say it. We’d all like to hear you say it,” Dan said.

  “I understand…I’m a part of the group.”

  Marcus clapped him on the back. He had been watching the exchange. Dan was right. Santu could not go around being a cracked cog in the plans. He had to accept his position whether or not he felt it was foisted on him.

  “Good for you. We need you to be a reliable partner. Roland’s going to be that for you. He already promised.”

  “Tomorrow you two find out where he lives. Follow him after work. Then we can move on to other items.” He was looking at Santu. “You can drive?”

  Santu nodded.

  “Good. Tomorrow you drive. It will look like a taxi service with Roland being the passenger. You won’t draw as much attention.”

  “And after we locate his house?” Santu asked.

  “You come back here. Just make sure you know where he lives. If we need to get ahold of him, I don’t want to be looking, I want to know where to go.”

  *

  After they had eaten, Roland hired a boat to take them out on the lake. It was a quiet night with little wind.

  “From the streets, you can’t tell just how beautiful some of these homes are,” Yvette said. The houses present their best face to the water.

  She reached over and kissed Roland on the cheek. Since meeting Yvette, he was being more careful to trim his beard back from its full-on bushiness. He presented a much more civilized face to the world.

  “I’ve never taken this ride before. Thank you for thinking of this.”

  “It’s new to me. I’m glad it’s also new to you.”

  In the tropics there was only a brief period of sunset. They sat and enjoyed the show with the clouds on the horizon being lit up by the sun behind them. There was no lingering twilight, and once the sun dropped out of sight, the boat turned and headed back to the shore.

  Roland and Yvette quickly walked up to the street and found a taxi. The mosquitos were advancing on the populace in the calm evening.

  “We need to find a good, smokey place to have a drink,” Roland said.

  Yvette laughed. “It does help with keeping them at bay.”

  They spent the evening in small talk. Roland was happy to listen to Yvette tell about her work. It sounded frustrating to him and ultimately futile, but he made no comment. He admired her enthusiasm and optimism in the face of such limited resources and so much disfunction.

  “How long do you think you’ll do this?”

  Roland had only a guess as to how old Yvette was. He was mid-thirties and estimated her to be mid-twenties.

  She sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know. You listen to me talk about my work. You don’t tell me I’m foolish or that it will have no effect. I know it makes a difference, but I also know that these efforts don’t go very far and we’re not going to solve the problem.” She paused and looked at her glass. “Maybe that is enough. To help, if not to solve.”

  “I don’t want to judge how effective you are. Hell, most people spend their lives doing work that seems to make no difference. We put our own meaning into our work. You have much more meaning to put into yours. But do you see yourself doing this for the next ten years?”

  She looked at him.

  “Do you see yourself doing what you’re doing for the next ten years?” Her look was both affectionate and challenging.

  Roland smiled. “You’re evading. Answering a question with a question.”

  “So, you are the master interrogator now?”

  “Slow down, mon cher. I’m joking with you.”

  She smiled, and her look softened. “I’m sorry. Maybe I am a little defensive about the question.”

  She put her hand over his. Hers didn’t begin to cover his larger hand as it lay on the table.

  “If I go back to France, what do I do? Work in a museum? A zoo? Taking care of the poor gorillas and chimps locked in there? Or maybe I teach in a university? Teach bored kids about the amazing forests of the Eastern Congo and the amazing animals that live there?”

  “Any of that, I guess,” Roland said.

  “It all sounds a bit boring, don’t you think?”

  Roland squeezed her hand. “I don’t know. What I do know is that you’re not boring. I enjoy listening to you, your voice, your accent, your expressions when you talk.” He smiled. “I’ve never said that to a woman…ever.”

  “I’m flattered.” She leaned forward. “Now you answer my question. What do you see yourself doing ten years from now?” She paused and frowned for a moment. “I don’t even know what you are doing now.”

  “I told you, I’m a bodyguard.”

  Yvette shook her head. “Non, non. You are more than that. A professional fighter, warrior—”

  “That’s what a bodyguard is. At least the best ones.”

  “And you guard Dan? He is the body you guard?”

  Roland nodded.

  “You are not being honest with me, Roland.”

  A spark jumped inside Roland at her use of his name. He tried to keep it hidden.

  “I don’t want to pry, but you ask me questions. Questions one asks of another when they are serious about each other, yet you hold back from me.”

  Roland felt a sadness flow through him. He knew his face betrayed it.

  “I haven’t been. You are right. There is an element of undercover to our work. Due to its sensitivity, for our company and for the U.S. It’s important to not compromise that confidentiality. It also keeps you from becoming entangled in any messy affairs. That’s probably important with your work.”

  Yvette caught the waitress’s eye and ordered another round of drinks.

  “That is fine…for now.”

  Later Roland asked, “Can we go somewhere? Is your roommate going to be out tonight?”

  “No. I could not ask her to move out two nights in a row. What about your roommates?”

  Roland snorted. “We are in a suite. All four of us. Even if we could get some privacy, you don’t want to be closed up with those guys.”

  “Do they smell bad?”

  “And act bad. They’re not as civilized as I am.”

  Now she laughed. She grabbed him by the arm and started for the door.

  “We will go to my hotel. You will negotiate a room. I’m sure with your skills, they will find an open one for you. I go back to the park tomorrow and I want you with me tonight.”

  They walked out to the street.

  “We will not talk about my future or your future,” she said. “We will focus on tonight. Tomorrow will bring what it will bring.”

  Chapter 26

  ___________________________________

  T he next morning Roland said goodbye to Yvette. They embraced in front of the rest of Yvette’s friends, making them wait in the SUV until they had finished their farewell. Each had the other’s phone numbers. It remained unspoken between them, but each felt there was only a slim chance that they would come into contact again. Yvette because of her work in the bush, Roland because of what he knew was coming.

  After seeing her off, Roland got a taxi and headed to the Ihusu Hotel to catch up with the others.

  “Out all night again,” Marcus said when Roland showed up. “We had to get our report from Santu.”

  “I’m sure he was able to do that small thing.”

  “Were you with your girlfriend?” Dan asked.

  “They’re going back to the park today. I saw her off.”

  “Now we can focus on our job,” Marcus said.

  “Go to hell. You’re just jealous,” Roland said.

  “Give it a rest, both of you,” Dan said.

  “The next step is to find Bakasa. I want to know where he lives. Roland, you and Santu will stake out his office and follow him home tonight. Once we have that pinned down, I can concentrate o
n other things.”

  Dan made his comments suitably oblique. It might not confuse Santu, but he didn’t plan to give away the complete game. Santu only needed to know his part.

  Roland and Santu spent the entire day waiting near the office building. They never saw Bakasa emerge. Not having gotten there first thing in the morning, they weren’t sure he had ever come to work.

  “Got to go out again tomorrow,” Dan said that evening when they reported back. “Get there early so you know he’s comes to work.”

  “Easier said than done. We don’t know exactly what he drives, just what he looks like.”

  They came back at the day’s end. Again, with no Bakasa sightings.

  What the team didn’t know was that Bakasa was not going to work. He wasn’t in Goma. He was at Zhang’s plantation. An SUV, a Land Rover, had picked him up at his home and driven him out to Zhang’s residence.

  Zhang let Dieu Merci Bakasa sit alone in his room and ponder why he had been brought to the plantation. The general felt no need to observe the protocols of good manners. Bakasa was not a man who could understand manners the way a well-educated Chinese man could. Zhang enjoyed dealing with Bakasa less than he did with Mputu. At least Mputu was who he presented himself to be. He was a rebel, a commander. A lethal man who followed his principles, which now involved making himself rich. Zhang could understand and accept that.

  Bakasa was weak. He dealt in trafficking his influence and maneuvering to gain more. Switching allegiances was a well-used tactic with him. He was not a man one could trust. Mputu was not a man to trust either, but he was easier to predict. If you did what aided him in his goals, he would be on your side.

  He finally met with Bakasa after lunch.

  “Why did you bring me out here? I have work to do in my office.”

  Zhang didn’t answer, but stared at Bakasa. The man spoke in French, which Zhang could readily understand. He spoke both English and French in addition to his native Mandarin. Zhang sat at an ornate, wooden desk made of African mahogany. It had come with the property and he assumed the previous owner had it made locally.

  Bakasa was sitting in a smaller chair on the other side of the grand piece of furniture. His chair, less comfortable, less high, left him looking and feeling smaller than Zhang.

  “I have to get back today. I should leave soon. It is not good to be on the road after dark.”

  “You are here because I want to talk with you. You will spend the night. I’m sending no vehicles back to town today.”

  A look of anger flashed across Bakasa’s face, followed by fear. He adjusted the glasses on his face.

  “I am an important man. My office will wonder where I am. I insist that you take me back today.”

  “Your office has been informed that you will spend the night. They think you’ll be going to see some of the mining operations first hand. Something you should probably do more often. They might wonder at your newfound enthusiasm, but they won’t question it.”

  Bakasa was quiet as he digested what Zhang said.

  “But what do you want? What’s so important that you have to kidnap me?”

  “I didn’t kidnap you. You got into the SUV on your own. You were smart enough, at least, to do that.”

  Bakasa seemed to have made a decision and sat back without any more protestations.

  “I am a DRC official. You are a guest in my country. I will not pursue whether or not you kidnapped me and compounded it by not letting me leave. Now tell me what you want.”

  “First of all, you are free to leave any time you wish. Just get up and walk out that door. You know the way. Just follow the roads. I imagine you can be in Goma in two days with steady walking. That is, unless the rebels don’t kidnap you first.”

  Zhang leaned over his desk. “Then you will get to experience a real kidnapping.”

  Bakasa glared at him. Still trying to hold on to his defiance.

  Zhang slid a photo across the desk to Bakasa. “Do you know this man?”

  Bakasa looked at the picture. It showed a man with a severe face. He was thin and wiry with a dangerous look in his eye. He had a scar running down his neck. His beret and clothing spoke of a military person. There were armed men standing behind him. The picture looked to have been taken out in the bush somewhere.

  Bakasa knew who it was. General Mputu. He had met with him before, both in the city and out at the mining fields.

  “General Mputu. Who doesn’t know the face? He slaughtered many in Goma during the revolts.”

  “And you meet with him?”

  Bakasa held back from denying it. Zhang watched and could see him evaluating how much he might know.

  “Yes. I’ve met with him. I am the Regional Deputy Minister of the Interior.”

  Zhang slid another photo across the desk. It showed Mputu and Bakasa standing together on the street outside of the ministry offices.

  “I’m glad you didn’t lie to me. You meet with him. Why do you meet with him?”

  “That is business between the two of us. I don’t talk about that. Just as I don’t talk about our business with anyone.”

  Suddenly Zhang slammed his hand on the massive desk with a loud crack. Bakasa jumped in his chair. Zhang let his calm façade drop and a fierce look show on his face. His contempt for this corrupt underling came out without any softening.

  “You meet with him to do the same business as you do with me. Do you think I am a fool? Someone to be played with, deceived? You try to play both sides. I pay you to facilitate getting those leases in my company’s name. While I do that, you take money from this rebel to do the same. Then he can sell them to me or use them as leverage against me.”

  Bakasa was now shrinking in his chair.

  “I am a minister in the government,” he said in a now not-so-forceful voice.

  Zhang looked at him with an icy expression in his eyes. He wanted Bakasa to see his disdain.

  “Ministers also disappear. We headed out to the mining area and were attacked by a rebel group. They overpowered us and kidnapped you. They didn’t know who I was, so they let me go. We hope they will treat you right and contact the government about releasing you.”

  He paused and took a sip from his teacup, which sat to one side on his desk.

  “But of course, the rebels will not contact the government and you will never be found again. They will assume you died while in captivity or were killed while foolishly trying to escape.”

  “What do you want?” Bakasa asked. His quiet voice evidenced his defeat.

  Zhang waved his hand as if to dismiss him. “We will talk tomorrow. I have work to do now. Give your cell phone to my head of security. You can stroll around the grounds with someone to protect you, or you can sit in your room. But I suggest you think about what you can do to correct this problem you have created.”

  He picked up his desk phone and spoke in Mandarin. The door opened, and a man stepped in. He held out his hand and Bakasa put his phone in it.

  “Heng will show you your room. He speaks only a little English, no French. If you want to go out, there is a house phone in your room. Call, and he will accompany you. You will be notified when it is time to eat.”

  Zhang thought the attempt to present manners along with power might be lost on Bakasa, but it was worth the attempt.

  Chapter 27

  ___________________________________

  T he next day Dan went out to walk the streets. Marcus insisted on coming with him. Roland and Santu left for their stake-out at the ministry headquarters.

  Dan and Marcus had coffee in a small sidewalk café that tried to emulate a European setting, but couldn’t pull it off with the run-down furniture and breeze block walls surrounding the patio. After, they continued exploring the streets. Dan found himself drawn to the street-side markets with the women presenting their produce, sometimes on tables, sometimes on a ground cloth laid on the dirt.

  All the fruit they had become accustomed to were on display along with rice,
corn, manioc and sweet potatoes. In addition, were fruits or vegetables that neither man recognized.

  “Some of this is definitely for the adventurous,” Marcus said as they strolled past the displays.

  “Can’t tell if some of it is fruit or vegetable,” Dan said.

  “Like, what do you call a tomato?”

  “Technically, it’s a fruit,” Dan replied. “But most people think of it as a vegetable since it’s not sweet.”

  “You are the fountain of knowledge, aren’t you?”

  “I try to keep you CAG boys well informed.”

  At one table, an old man reached out and grabbed Dan’s sleeve. He had a mixed collection of T-shirts and caps arranged on his table.

  “You buy a shirt? A cap?” He gave Dan a sharp look.

  Dan shook his head and replied in French, “Non. We are just passing by.”

  “But you stop now. Talk to an old man.” His dark pupils were surrounded by sharp white. There was a power in them. A power Dan had seen before and recognized.

  “You come…talk with me.” The man nodded in the direction behind him. There was a wooden door opening into a shack with wood and sheet metal siding. Dan motioned to Marcus to come with him and they both followed the old man inside.

  It was dark. The floor was tamped down dirt. He motioned for them to sit at a rough table. There were four wooden chairs placed around it. An opening in the back wall led to another room. The old man continued to the back wall, which had shelves attached to it. There were cooking pots and pans, vegetables, some candles, and plates on the shelves. He grabbed three cups and brought them back to the table. Then he went to a gourd sitting on the lower shelf and leaning against the wall. He picked it up and brought it back to the table and sat down. Next, he poured some liquid from the gourd into the cups and pushed two of them in front of Dan and Marcus.

  He picked his cup up and took a long drink. Putting it down with a sigh, he nodded to the men in an encouraging way.

  “Drink up. It’s palm wine. My first wife makes it. Very good.”