by David Nees
On the other side was another field with taller crops, almost tree-like. Manioc? The woody shrub grew high enough to provide some cover for him. From there, he could get into another section of forest. That would be his tactic; cross the planted fields quickly and patch together as many of the wooded sections as possible.
He heard the truck engines as he moved from the peanuts into the manioc field. Dan dropped down and watched as the top of a pickup appeared. It was moving fast down the narrow dirt road, heading towards Kimoho. Probably set up a perimeter near the intersection. When it passed, he got up and kept moving south.
*
Marcus stayed in his room for two days, only going out to get something to eat. He knew that the people in the village were fully aware of his presence and had many questions. He dropped a hint that he was writing a book and needed to spend time in a small village in order to not be disturbed. The story didn’t make the locals wonder about him less, but at least it gave them an explanation for this strange white man’s behavior.
Every couple of hours, he tried Dan on his cell phone but always got the message that a connection could not be made. Dan would leave his phone off, whether or not in cell range, as a safety factor. Marcus was counting on him turning the phone back on once his mission was completed and he was exiting the area. Eventually, Marcus expected to get a hit.
On the third day, the small eatery where Marcus got coffee and a plate of food seemed more animated than usual. Most of the time, the people patronizing the place were relaxed and in a pleasant mood, joking with the proprietor who knew them all. They ignored Marcus and the oddity he represented, but seemed comfortable around him.
Today people seemed on edge. Many had tense conversations with the owner. Sometimes they were in French, but most often in Swahili. Marcus thought about the change and wondered if it could have anything to do with Dan. News could travel down the road pretty quickly. Servants, if there were any at the plantation, could pass along the story. People living along the road would notice something in the response that would have arisen.
When there was a break in customers, Marcus asked the owner what had stirred everyone up. The owner looked at him for a long time as if wondering whether or not to let him in on the local gossip.
“An important man has been killed,” he finally said in French. He spoke in simple sentences, knowing Marcus was challenged in his French-speaking abilities. “He had a guest who was also killed. Both important. Big men. It will not help us here in the village.”
Kimoho provided some small services to the plantation. Apparently, Zhang understood enough to let locals gain some benefit from his presence, even as he was working to cheat the country out of much of its resources.
“Did they catch who did it?”
The man shook his head. “They are setting up a roadblock just outside of town. They will catch them when they come down the road. It is the only way out of the area.”
Fat chance of that, Marcus thought to himself.
“You should stay in your room,” the man went on.
Marcus looked at him with a question in his eyes.
“You are a stranger. We know you are here to write, to be alone, but others may look at you with suspicion.” He picked up Marcus’s plate. “The men who protect the big man are Chinese. They will not understand…and they follow their own rules.”
He turned and went towards his kitchen at the rear of the shack.
Marcus thanked him and got up. He headed back to his hotel.
That night he called Dan. This time the phone rang and Dan answered.
“You okay?” Marcus asked.
“Yeah. I’m on my way south. Where are you?”
“In Kimoho.”
“I told you not to wait.”
“I know. But I just wanted to hang around, see if I might be helpful.”
“They’ll be looking for strangers.”
“Yeah. But I’ve been here for three days. The locals are getting used to me. I’m writing a book and hiding away in order to complete it.”
“You? Writing a book?”
“It’s not so far-fetched.”
“It is if you’re you.”
“Funny guy. Listen, there’s a roadblock just outside of town, you’ll have to go around it.”
“Not a problem. How do I connect with you?”
Marcus thought for a moment.
“They’ll be at the north side of town, along the road heading to the plantation. They’ll assume you’re on foot, since they won’t have found a car. I expect they’ll block the R529 heading east and south.”
“You’ll be blocked in.”
“Yeah. I’m getting out tonight. I’ll go south a couple of miles to where the shacks thin out. I can find a section of woods to hide in with the Toyota. I think you need to swing wide to the west and then follow 529 south. Stay clear of the road. There’ll be watching it.”
“That works. You be sure you’re south of any roadblock. I don’t mind hiking a couple miles more.”
“See you maybe tomorrow night,” Marcus said.
“With luck. And thanks, buddy. I didn’t relish hiking all the way back to Goma.”
Chapter 63
___________________________________
M putu will harm me if I show up with no hostages. He thinks I can stop some of them from leaving. We have to go to the airport,” Dieu said.
“We’re not going to collect any hostages,” Roland said.
“Do you want to get me killed? You heard him. I don’t want to cross him.”
Roland gave Dieu a condescending look. “You aren’t…I am.”
“What are you thinking of doing?” Santu asked from the front.
“I haven’t quite figured it out, yet.”
“That’s not reassuring,” Santu said.
“It will involve neutralizing Mputu. I’ve had enough of his interference.”
“Does that mean what I think it means?” Dieu asked.
Roland just stared at him.
“Because if it does, I don’t want to have anything to do with it. You could start another rebel uprising. His men would be cut loose with no leadership. There are probably over five hundred men under his direct control and another thousand sympathizers. Do you know what that means? They would seek revenge and start looting and burning. You’ll put Goma back into a terrible time. The UN will just stay inside their compound and the rest of us will suffer.”
Santu looked at Roland in the mirror. “He may be right.”
“Maybe. In my experience, you cut off the head of the snake, the body dies.”
“It can cause a lot of damage while it’s dying. That is the problem,” Dieu said.
Roland felt a pang of doubt. Killing Mputu would not be hard. Surviving the strike would be harder, but not impossible. But he had not factored in a rebel group going wild in the city.
“We are not making any ex-hostages available for this guy. That is one thing I can promise you.” He looked at Santu in the mirror. “Let’s head to the airport. I want to make sure all those kids are gone.”
“Then what?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
At the airport they confirmed that all the hostages had flown out on the morning flight to Kinshasa. Dieu groaned. He didn’t look forward to facing Mputu’s wrath.
“I am a dead man.”
*
Mputu’s caravan of five pickup trucks loaded with soldiers and weapons reached the checkpoint set up by the Chinese just west of Kimoho late in the day.
Two pickups stopped side-by-side, facing the blockade. They each had 7.62 mm FN Mag machine guns mounted in their beds. A third pickup with an older model M60 machine gun was sticking out at an angle from behind the other two. All three machine guns were manned, trained on the soldiers blocking their route.
The men at the checkpoint were clearly out-numbered and out-gunned. The Chinese started shouting at one another, none of it understandable to Mputu or his men. The gen
eral got out and yelled in French, “Who’s in charge?” He repeated his question.
Finally, a man got out from a truck and stepped forward.
“I am.” He spoke in heavily accented French. “We have to question you. Two men were killed today and we are trying to catch the ones who did this.”
“We are coming from Donga. Do you know where it is?”
The Chinese soldier nodded.
“Where were these men killed and who were they?” Mputu was suspicious, seeing that the soldiers were Chinese.
“General Zhang and his guest.”
The soldier had unwittingly let slip Zhang’s true identity. Mputu smiled. He had suspected as much.
“How was he killed?”
“A sniper. Both men.”
“We are not who you are looking for. You must let us through immediately or there will be trouble.”
The Chinese soldier considered the demand. He turned to the others and gave some orders. The pickup trucks backed up and Mputu and his men drove through.
Dan watched the incident from the cover of some trees on the north side of the road. He guessed it was Mputu. Would he be heading for Goma? To try to stop the hostages from departing? Dan could only hope they had already left for Kinshasa or other destinations.
I’ll wait until late tonight to cross. Then I can get to Marcus by dawn and get the hell out of here.
It was after midnight when he crept up to the dirt road. He was a half mile to the west of the checkpoint, having shifted his position hours earlier. He scanned the road and ditches back towards the checkpoint. There was no one about. The men were staying put in their vehicles. Dan had crawled into a ditch at the edge of the road an hour earlier. His ghillie suit, while hot, even after the sun had gone down, offered some protection from the mosquitoes that plagued the night. Now, with no sign of any activity for an hour, he started crawling across the road. From a half mile away, even if someone were looking that far, he would resemble some debris or a dead animal.
He moved in slow motion, pausing often to listen. A half hour later, he reached the cover of the ditch on the far side of the road. From there Dan melted into the nearby trees. A mixture of shacks and houses stood along the road and on the small paths leading away from it. Dan threaded his way south, keeping as much distance as he could between himself and the buildings. The few dogs in the area could sense his passage and started barking. Dan only hoped that the dogs often barked at wild animals that stalked the night, and the owners didn’t pay much attention to them.
He wound his way through the huts, keeping to any cover he could find. A small creek appeared in front of him. Crocodiles? Dan shivered. It wouldn’t matter, he had to get across. He scanned in each direction, but it was futile in the dark. A light would have caught any crocs by the reflection in their eyes, but using a flashlight was out of the question.
Dan held his breath and slipped into the water. It was thigh-deep. He waded forward as quickly as he could, making no large splashes. On reaching the other bank, he scrambled in a not-so-stealthy manner up the bank and into the grass. He caught his breath and hurried out of range of the creek and any potential crocs that might have come close to investigate his passage.
Dan’s route was full of twists as he tried to keep to the larger brush and trees. He awakened more dogs along the way, but kept moving. If their owners got up, he would not be in the area.
When he had gone what he guessed was over a mile to the south, Dan turned east towards the road. He knew the road went eastward before bending back down to the south. Two hours of careful hiking finally brought him close.
He approached with caution, not knowing where the checkpoint would be set up. Once at the edge of the road, Dan looked both ways. Nothing. He crept back from the packed dirt surface and moved south again. Again, there were detours to avoid the small houses.
After going a half mile, he approached the road again. The sky was growing lighter in the east. Shortly the sun would leap up into the sky as it did in the tropics. Daylight would help him see, but also expose him.
Dan picked up his phone and called Marcus.
“Where are you,” he asked.
“I’m in the woods along a section of the road that is running east to west,” Marcus said.
“I think I’m south of you. The road here is running north and south.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure about the direction. Unfortunately, there’re no mile markers or anything to go by. I can’t just tell you to go three tenths of a mile past the Exxon station.”
“Don’t be a smartass. I thought you were a famous tracker, never got lost.”
“Stuff it. Just drive south. I’m past a section of trees where the road does a zig-zag. I’ve got no huts in sight.”
“I’m on my way. I’ll go for ten minutes. If we haven’t met, we’ll have to try something else.”
“I’m definitely not on the section where you’re parked. The road is going north-south here.”
Dan hung up and sat back to wait. His camo suit hid him well in the roadside ditch.
Chapter 64
___________________________________
W hoa, you stink like hell,” Marcus said as Dan jumped into the Toyota.
“Thanks, buddy. I’m glad to see you as well.”
Marcus rolled down his window.
“We have a problem,” Dan said.
“What’s that?”
“Mputu came by late yesterday afternoon. He’s ahead of us and we don’t want to run into him. He’s got five pickups, three with machine guns mounted.”
“I saw the trucks. Where do you suppose he’s headed?”
Dan shook his head. “Maybe Goma?”
“Would he be crazy enough to go there?”
“If he thinks he can get the hostages back, he might. I don’t think the UN is going to stop him. We’ve seen militia patrols in town before. They weren’t part of the UN or AFDC.”
“True. I can’t believe he’d think the hostages would be hanging around Goma, though.”
Dan took out his cell phone. “I’m going to call Roland. See what’s up. We need to get everyone together—”
“Then get the hell out of here?”
“You got it.”
“What’s going on?” Dan asked when Roland answered.
Roland filled him in on Dieu, the fetish, and the call from Mputu.
“Why does Mputu want to meet with Dieu? He can’t help with the hostages, they’re long gone, aren’t they?”
“Yep…including Yvette.”
“Then, what?”
“Don’t know. Dieu doesn’t know either. I think Mputu may want to solidify his hold on him and keep transferring mining leases into his name.”
“You think he knows Dieu is working both sides? Helping Zhang as well?”
“Can’t really say, but I doubt it. Is Zhang neutralized?”
“Yeah. Both of them. You’re sure he’s going to meet Mputu?”
“He has to. Mputu threatened to kill him and his mistress. It’s not an idle threat. Apparently, he can maneuver in and around Goma when he chooses to do so.” Roland paused for a moment. “Dieu wants me and Santu to come with him.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I know. But he’s caught between a rock and a hard place. He thinks Mputu won’t harm him if he has others with him.”
“Bullshit. Mputu will just kill him and whoever he’s with if that’s what he decides to do.”
“The meeting’s supposed to take place in Buniole.”
“Where the hell is that?”
“Not sure. It’s off the larger road, the R529 that you’re on. Dieu says its north of Mushaki.”
“There’s a UN post near there.”
“Yeah. Mputu controls much of the territory beyond it. From there to the Maiko National Forest and north to some of the mining areas.”
“He controls all of that?”
“According to Dieu. Either cont
rols it directly or has a dominating influence over it. That gives him cover to move around.”
Dan made a decision.
“Don’t let him leave until we connect. We’re moving as fast as possible. We’ll meet you in Goma and figure this out.”
He hung up and filled Marcus in on what had transpired in their absence.
“We should just let the fucker meet Mputu by himself. He deserves anything Mputu dishes out.”
Dan didn’t answer but stared out of the windshield.
“He has the fetish,” Marcus said. “We paid a lot for that. It should be worth something. From the way Roland said he reacted to it, it might deter Mputu as well.”
“Maybe. Maybe it’s an opportunity to strike a blow against some rebels.”
Marcus looked over at Dan. “What the hell are you thinking up now?”
“Watch the road!” Dan shouted as they careened through a huge hole. The Toyota slammed down on its suspension and then rebounded, almost taking off of the ground. “You’ll break a spring or something if you don’t slow down.”
“Just sit tight and watch a master at work. This Toyota is a tough bird, and we need to get to Goma quickly. We don’t want to hang around for too long. You keep that in mind as you think about more things we can do. We’ve done enough.”
Marcus continued to push the SUV down the bumpy dirt road at a rapid pace. He only slowed when they passed roadside huts or small villages. If no one was about, he hammered past them down the rough surface.
After arriving in Goma, they made their way towards the Rond Point Chukudu, where they were to meet Roland and Santu. As they were driving, an old man, thin and bent, stepped out into the road in front of the Toyota. Marcus slammed on the brakes and the Toyota skidded to a halt in front of the man. He didn’t flinch, but stared through the windshield with his intense, dark eyes. Dan recognized him as the Watcher he had talked to many days ago. It seemed like in another lifetime.
“What the hell?” Marcus said.
Dan opened the door and stepped out.
