His feet fumbled on the bottom and half crawling, half staggering he made his way up the bank. Lying on the rocky surface, his mouth wide open sucking in the air in harsh gasps he knew this was only the first hurdle. Looking up at the steep slopes above him Harry wondered how he would ever make it to the top. He forced himself up. Only one end awaited him if he didn’t start the climb and it wasn’t just his fate; starting upwards, one unsteady pace at a time, the vision of Ana’s face as the container doors shut, stood out firmly in his head.
Metre by painful metre, his legs protesting at each step, he edged his way up. His mouth and throat seemed drier than he had ever recalled. Despite the temptation he hadn’t let himself drink from the river, only too aware of the chemicals and human waste polluting the water.
The surface was very loose under his feet and time after time he felt he was about to lose his footing completely. The tips of his fingers were bleeding from endlessly scrambling for balance on the slopes. After what seemed like an age he reached a large outcrop of rocks about half way to the summit. He had to rest, even for five minutes, movement would be all the quicker for it afterwards. His clothes were drying out and the sun was peacefully warm across his body.
He woke with a start, chin on his chest. The sun was lower in the sky, how long had his five minutes turned into? His whole being seemed to protest as he got to his feet. Focusing on the peak of the ridge he scanned the slope ahead looking for the easiest path and then before starting the final climb glanced back at the way he had come. The adrenaline rush was instantaneous. There on the far river bank were several dark figures, their features were indeterminate but he was in no doubt who they were. They seemed to be looking up the side of the ravine and he suddenly realised that where just a minute ago there had only been rocks, now his silhouette would stand out like a beacon. As if to confirm that, three of them started to wade into the river.
Tiredness pushed to the back of his mind, Harry positively attacked the incline. There was a lone tree clinging to the top of the ridge and he set his sights on that to avoid weaving sideways too much and eating up crucial time. He made himself look ahead, glancing back would slow him down and wouldn’t alter the speed of his pursuers. He could only see properly through one eye which made him uneasy, worried about not spotting something important just out of his vision until it was too late, so he developed a scanning technique moving his whole head from side to side, continuing ever upwards. His goal seemed so close now, the individual roots of the tree, like gnarled fingers grasping at life when there was barely anything to hang onto, were remarkably close.
He heard the shots and almost felt the impact of the bullets simultaneously as they hit the ground behind him. He sprang to the right and heard another burst of fire. Five, six steps and he was grasping at the tree roots, now miraculously helping hands as they offered him a lifeline to the crest of the ridge. Hauling himself over the last few metres and collapsing, momentarily safe at the top of the ravine, he allowed himself to peer over the edge to check on the progress of his would be killers. They were gaining, past the rocks where he had rested and striding powerfully, directly towards him.
Harry had no idea what was ahead but whatever it was it had to offer some chance. There was thick bush in front of him which was a blessing in many ways, as it would make him more difficult to follow. Not taking the most obvious path he ran for several hundred metres and spotted animal tracks leading into a small opening. Remembering Kilifi’s advice he darted in between the thick shrubs, knowing that following the prints was likely to give him some sort of a pathway through. Low branches plucked at his clothes and whipped across his face but he barely felt them. Birds squawked out of their perches, flapping away, irritated at the intrusion below.
He dismissed the idea of hiding. There would be no dramatic rescue party arriving at the eleventh hour and given time the Somalis would find and follow his tracks and flush him out of whatever safe spot he thought he had found.
The vegetation started to thin and before Harry knew it he was standing at the edge of the green line looking down a gently sloping hill towards a dirt road with a few small farmsteads beyond. Would he put them in danger and was there anything they could do to help? Those weren’t questions for now. He simply had to put as much of a gap between himself and his pursuers as possible. After breaking the cover of the trees he would be an easy spot, but there was no choice.
The gentle slope was a welcome change from the climb and despite everything Harry lengthened his stride. The road was further away than he had realised but gradually he ate up the dead ground between it and the slope. Then unbelievably there was the distinct dust cloud of an approaching vehicle. He didn’t care where it was going but it was heading in his direction. Could he reach the road in time? His legs simply couldn’t go on like this, his knees were burning, his vision blurring with the effort and then suddenly he was down. The blow of hitting the ground knocked all the air from his body and for a moment he lay there unmoving, looking up at the sky. Then glancing back he saw three figures emerge from the line of trees, further to the right than expected but they must have seen him straight away. How could they not, there was nothing else out here.
Getting to his feet he felt his left ankle protest and looking down realised that he must have caught the edge of an animal burrow. It didn’t feel broken and he couldn’t put much weight on it but still he forced himself on towards the fast approaching dust. His heart sank realising that he wouldn’t make it; they would simply drive on without spotting him. Frantically he waved his arms, shouting, almost crying in desperation and then unbelievably the old white pickup truck began to slow and then finally it came to a halt. Two large men got out and slowly made their way towards him.
“Hurry, please hurry,” he shouted. “We’re all in danger.” They increased their pace and as they got to him Harry pleaded, “Please no questions now. See those men coming down the hillside, well they are Somali bandits and if we don’t move quickly they will do for us all.”
They men looked up and then down at Harry but they didn’t hesitate. There was no love lost between Somalis and Kenyans in this part of the country.
“Come, hold onto us,” shouted the larger of the two and with his arms over their shoulders they part carried, part dragged him to the vehicle. “Squeeze into the middle quickly. They’re closing on us.”
Despite the heavy load of maize cobs in the back, they took off up the road at a surprising pace. They heard the sudden stutter of gunfire but the pickup didn’t falter and as the needle crept up the speedometer dial the danger fast receded behind them.
“My friends call me David,” said the driver. “Just as well we came along when we did, another minute later and you wouldn’t be sitting here. What’s happened to you, look at your face and hands? There’s blood everywhere, and your eye!”
“I know it must look dreadful but I haven’t the time to explain now. Just trust me. I work on the Uwingoni Game Reserve, does this road go anywhere near it?”
“Within about seven miles, I think,” said David.
“Do either of you have a mobile phone I could use for an emergency call, please. It really is life or death.”
“I don’t doubt that.” David dug into the side pocket his right hand on the wheel skilfully dodging the endless potholes on the road.
“Thank you so much.” Harry dialled the now familiar number. Because of the nature of their visit to the dam, Jim had assured them that he would keep his phone on him at all times.
On the fourth ring his voice was there, no longer matter of fact but full of concern and worry. “Harry, thank God. We have been so worried. What’s happened? Are you alright?”
Harry gathered his thoughts. He just had to stick with what was important. The full story could be told later.
“I’ll try to be brief. We ran foul of the Somali and his men who are in league with Michael and goodness knows what other Chinese up there. I managed to escape, but only just. Crucially
, as we speak, Ana is on her way to Mombasa port, a prisoner, locked in a container full of poached ivory. We have to rescue her. And with her will come the ivory and the proof that even the most corrupt officials cannot sweep under the carpet, about what has been going on up there.”
“Right Harry, I’ll get onto the Inspector and Odika straight away. We’ll need more details of course and quickly, where are you now?”
“In a pickup with my rescuers. I’ll see whether they can take me to the main Uwingoni gate, hang on.” Harry looked across at David who had heard enough of the conversation to nod his head in agreement. “That’s fine.”
“Good. Bethwell is down there now, by luck, so he’ll bring you back to camp and by then we will have a plan in place I’m sure. See you as soon as possible.”
“Chinese and Somalis eh!” David spat the words out. “They are ruining the lives of countless decent people, either with their mindless violence or their interference in our country. Anything I can do to help just ask.”
“Thanks David. Just get us to that gate as fast as this old lady will move.”
Two hours later Harry was back in the main camp, a cold compress over his right eye, trying to give a brief summary of the previous twenty-four hours.
Through luck Sergeant Odika had been visiting his team and was in the office with Jim and Mike. Inspector Mwitu was on the speaker phone, as he was down at police headquarters in Nairobi.
Harry tried to keep his account of what had happened as concise as possible, without leaving anything out and his listeners stopped him every so often to ask a question or clarify a point. Although physically exhausted, he was surprised at how alert his mind felt and knew he was driven both by fears about Ana’s safety and his desire to see those responsible brought to justice.
When he had finished the Inspector spoke with a grave authority. “I am going straight from this call to see the Assistant Commissioner. He will have to act and swiftly, especially as a British national has been kidnapped and imprisoned. Jim you need to get onto the British High Commission down there immediately, tell them everything and they will also be able to bring considerable pressure to bear on the Kenyan government. Believe me, when this gets out, corrupt officials will be keeping their heads down. We will need to send a crack squad to Prosperity Dam today. Sergeant I am sure KWS will want some of their best guys in there too. If we act fast we might just catch the Somalis, they certainly won’t have gone with the container lorry as that would arouse too much suspicion. And of course that container is key, both for Ana and the ivory. There are hundreds of containers on the roads every day but being purple with a Chinese name and symbol on the side gives us a lot to go on. I am sure we will be able to authorise a nationwide alert for it. Nevertheless, the driver will have a large wad of shillings to bribe himself out of trouble and that is a powerful weapon. Any questions?”
“Thank you, Inspector. The sooner we all get on with what we need to do the better. I look forward to hearing from you.” Jim clicked the speaker off.
“I am going to talk to my boss at KWS right now. If we can get a top anti-poaching squad sent up right away by plane I will be able to go with them to Prosperity. Speed is the key here.” The sergeant got up to leave, stopping on his way out to give Harry a friendly slap across his shoulder. “Well done out there. We might make a ranger of you yet.”
Jim turned his gaze on Harry, “Yes you did amazingly well. We’re all very proud of you. But there is nothing more any of us can do at the moment. Go and get some well-earned rest and I’ll let you know as soon as there are any developments.”
Chapter Sixteen
Although the fear that gripped Ana as the doors had clanged shut was horribly real and instantaneous, she quickly realised the futility of banging against the metal walls of her prison. If anything that would give those who had locked her in even more satisfaction and that thought alone made her stop and stand away from the sides. She clasped her hands together in front of her, tried to breathe slowly and calmly and in her head repeatedly played back small chants that she had learnt in an effort to block out the terrible danger she knew herself to be in.
On opening her eyes she gave them time to adjust to the surroundings. Just as in Syria, small amounts of light forced their way through the cracks round the doors where the seal was far from perfect. She examined the cardboard box which had a few bottles of water and packets of crisps inside, but that was it. Behind her row upon row of tusks stood, a chilling testament to lives cut short for nothing more than cold profit. Strangely the anger that generated was so strong and the number of tusks so overwhelming that it actually began to replace the fear of her own immediate future.
She stepped across to the nearest ones. Although the lack of light made the inside of the container like a faded, black and white photo, she was able to make out the shapes reasonably well. It seemed as though the tusks had actually been paired up, perhaps so that the ivory from a single elephant could be sold as one lot. Those nearest her were generally smaller, progressing in size to the back where the largest ones reached up, half way to the ceiling. Every poached elephant represented dreadful pain and suffering but, as Ana tried to take it in, she couldn’t help but think that at least those at the back had been able to lead their lives to the full. It didn’t make their death any less horrendous but the ones at the front were not much more than children.
The image in her mind switched. The horrific pictures from 1945 of liberated concentration camps, the bodies of young and old piled one on top of the other; whole families dead on the streets of Rwanda in the year she was born; her own much clearer memories of Syria and another container etched forever into her very being. And now here, more death, wickedness eating into the very fabric of people’s souls.
She took one of the smallest tusks in her hands and sat on the floor, her back to the others with her knees up high towards her chest. She started to caress the ivory, gentle, easy strokes almost as though she was running her fingers through a child’s hair. Was she searching for some connection to that particular elephant, she simply didn’t know but there was something in her actions that provided a form of release.
And then they came, slow at first and then quicker and more pronounced; huge sobs that seemed to wrack her entire body. Tears flowed freely as though bottled up behind a dam of guilt as her hands continued their futile attempt to stroke away the pain. But she was no longer in this container and the tusk was now a young girl’s head like those who had come before and those yet to be thrown into this metal hell to be raped and violated as and when the mood took their captors.
She hadn’t cried like this for ages, the tears buried somewhere deep inside, where emotion was kept under lock and key. She saw it now, the guilt that ate into her. All these young women, their lives ruined forever, nothing more than play things, but it had always been them and never her. Although she had tried her best to ease their pain when the remnants of the person they had been returned, what did she know? She thought she could picture how horrific their experiences were, but of course she couldn’t really begin. And as the days had passed and she had felt outwardly whole at least, she had stroked their heads and tried to mutter soothing words in a language they couldn’t understand as they lay curled up on the filth of the container floor.
Ana angrily wiped the hot tears from her cheeks, her breathing steadying. She couldn’t save those women, just as she couldn’t bring these elephants back to life but perhaps here, despite the huge vulnerability of her position she might be able to play a part in bringing these men to justice.
Guilt and despair banished for the moment anyway, she sat hard against the wall thinking and waiting, the unforgiving metal pressing into her back.
Despite everything she must have dozed off. Her head jerked up at the sound of voices and banging on the side of the container.
She heard the noise of a large engine and the crunching of tyres, shortly followed by the scraping of metal on metal as something was being fa
stened round the container. The engine revs increased, there was a loud creak and some of the tightly packed tusks moved very slightly towards her, then the floor levelled out and they were back where they started.
Ana realised that they were being lifted by a crane. There was further shouting and some gentle swaying followed by a rasping noise and then all was still again. The container was obviously on the back of a lorry. She hadn’t uttered a sound, it would have been pointless. Only when she was out of here one way or another would she be presented with any opportunity. She didn’t even have an idea of what she might be able to do but there would be hours if not days for her to sit, think and plan.
Harry felt a squeeze on his shoulder and tried hard to wake himself from the deepest of sleeps. Jim was standing beside his bed, concern still showing on his face. “Sorry to wake you. I know you really crave rest but needs must.”
“That’s fine.” He winced at the pain in his side as he sat up in bed but realised that he was now seeing out of both eyes again, so progress of a sort. “What’s up?”
Tusker Page 23
