by Bill Brewer
Diegert put his fingers across his lips to silence Felix and the women. Diegert signaled that, at the count of three, Felix should open the door, get all the women aboard and make a run for it. Moving to the rear edge of the van, Diegert peered around to see the men lifting a tarp with Ozinwa’s body into the yellow truck. Diegert held up his fist and extended his first, second and third finger. Felix pressed the button on the fob to open the passenger door and the three women climbed in, staying low on the floor. Felix took the driver’s seat, started the van and threw it into reverse. Diegert walked next to the van with his MP 9 up and ready. When the van stopped to shift, Diegert opened up, sending bullets into the bodies of the surprised men. Both men in the bed of the yellow truck, as well as the driver, fell dead where they were. One of the passengers in the green truck took a bullet to the shoulder which hit a major artery, sending blood pulsing into the air like a Las Vegas fountain.
Diegert stepped on the bumper of the van as it accelerated. He reached high on to the roof of the van clutching the crossbar of the roof rack. Shots rang out, hitting the back of the van. Diegert took a bullet through the calf of his lower leg. Gutting the pain, he pulled with all he had to lift himself onto the roof of the van. With a vice grip on the roof rack, Diegert slid around facing backwards. Two men jumped into the green truck to chase the van. From a prone position, Diegert aimed his weapon to fire at the Chevy in controlled three round bursts. The truck was gaining on them, but Diegert’s fire kept the 50 cal from being brought into the fight.
Felix drove the six-cylinder Toyota as fast as he dared on the uneven dirt road. His navigation of the potholes made a rough ride for Diegert on the roof, who struggled to hold on while also replacing his spent magazine. Diegert’s pause to reload allowed the man operating the mounted 50 caliber gun to get into position. He racked the feed, steadying the pivoting gun before firing multiple heavy rounds at the fleeing minivan. Diegert had to keep his face down as the pressure waves of the massive bullets passed over his head. The heavy suspension and V8 engine allowed the Chevy truck to gain on the van. Looking up, as he struggled to reload, Diegert saw the big gun being aimed at him. The 50 cal fired, but the bullet went low. The Sienna’s rear window shattered into shiny diamonds as the big bullet burst through the safety glass, continued over the heads of the women, penetrated the center of the dashboard to lodge in the engine destroying several piston rods. Smoke blew back into the cabin and out from under the hood. Diegert coughed as the cloud of acrid smoke enveloped the van. The disabled vehicle slowed, before suddenly lurching to a stop.
With a fresh magazine in place, Diegert pointed his weapon at the truck. Squeezing the trigger he hoped for the best. Watching, as 9 mm bullets left his barrel, Diegert was shocked when the green Chevy pickup exploded into a ball of flame. He looked at his submachine gun, incredulous at the power in his hand.
Klaus Panzer had doubled back to see what was happening. From his position in the air Panzer could see the truck pursuing the van with his son laid out on the roof. The drone was equipped with missiles. Panzer used a reticle equipped pair of glasses to target the truck and lock it into the missile’s control panel. Upon release, remote pilots in Austria controlling the flight fins directed the missiles to the designated target, delivering the intended destruction.
The truck’s fuel tank exploded sending the rear of the truck skyward, forcing the grill of the vehicle into the dusty red road. The driver and passenger were dismembered as the truck became a twisted piece of flaming scrap.
Panzer climbed to a safe position above the treetops.
Seeing the fireball behind him, Felix exited the van. Sliding off the roof hurt like hell when Diegert’s injured leg had to bear weight. Limping, he led Felix, who clung to his MP 9, and the three women into the forest off the side of the road. From his view in the sky, Panzer could see the yellow truck coming up the road. He texted Diegert, Yellow pick up one KM back, 2 men coming up fast.
Hobbling as fast he could to the smoking van, Diegert grabbed the gray duffel. Making it back to his group in the woods, he saw the yellow truck approach. With the road blocked by the burning and smoking vehicles. The yellow stopped, the driver remained in the cab as he told his passenger to get out and investigate.
Signaling with this hands, while imploring everyone to remain silent, Diegert instructed Felix to shoot the passenger when he moved forward toward the damaged truck and van. He indicated that with a knife and a pistol from the duffel he would attack the driver to acquire the yellow truck. He handed two of the women the remaining MP 9’s, making it clear they should use them only in an emergency.
Diegert took Felix’s phone and set the timer for two minutes. He set his own phone for the same period. He informed Felix to shoot when the two minutes were up. He started both timers before sending the tall, thin man forward. Felix’s nervous smile and inexperience left Diegert doubting the plan, but his two minutes were counting down. Creeping through the forest to flank the pickup was a painful process. Diegert made a wide circle, crossing the road out of sight of the truck. Once on the other side of the road, he moved quietly, coming up low to the passenger door of the pickup. He drew his knife and checked his phone: 1:50. Drawing slow deep breaths, he readied himself, 2:00.
No shots. Shit. Diegert texted Felix: Shoot damn it!
Felix was freaking out, he couldn’t kill someone. When his timer hit 2:00 minutes he started hyperventilating and remained behind the trunk of a very big tree. Receiving Diegert’s text he realized he might face an even more dangerous enemy if he didn’t shoot the passenger.
Diegert stared at his screen, realizing it would do no good, but frustrated at not being able to influence the situation. A moment later the staccato blasts of the MP 9 ripped through the eerie silence of the forest. Diegert flung open the truck’s passenger door with his Gough knife ready. He launched himself across the cab, driving the blade point into the side of the driver’s neck. The blade dug deep, passing through muscle and the esophagus. Diegert thrust the sharp edge forward, severing the trachea and carotid arteries.
Felix had never fired a gun before. He had seen it done in movies and figured he’d just go John Wick on this bad guy. Pointing the weapon, with his arm fully extended, he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. The MP 9, set on full auto, began emptying its magazine as Felix’s arm rocked around in an out of control circle. He had all he could do to keep the gun in front of him. The bullets flew, startling, but not hitting the target. The surprised passenger ran back towards the yellow Ford pickup.
Diegert wiped the blade on the man’s pant leg as he backed out. He saw the other man returning as he set one foot outside the cab. The passenger, having drawn his gun as he ran back, stopped, raised his barrel and fired at Diegert, who ducked down using the door panel as a shield. Diegert dropped his knife to pull out the Glock 17. He stuck the gun under the truck door and fired. The shots hit the passenger in the boot and the shin. The injured man howled as the bullets tore through his leg and foot, felling him to the ground. Diegert jumped up into the cab, pulled the door shut, leaned out the window, and shot the man as he writhed on the dirt road.
Diegert texted Felix: All clear, bring the women to the truck.
Exiting the vehicle, Diegert stepped over to disarm the dead man. Shoving the acquired Berretta in his waistband, Diegert also slipped the guy’s phone from a cargo pocket on his pants. The guy had a full beard and wildly unkempt hair, but it was his BH tattoo on the back of his neck that identified him as having completed his training with Boko Haram.
Limping to the opposite side of the truck, Diegert opened the driver’s door as Felix and the women arrived. The driver’s body fell sideways, Diegert caught the falling body, slowing the descent while the nearly severed head dangled by the vertebrae, and blood spurted from the gaping wound. Dragging the corpse a couple of meters into the forest left Diegert covered in glistening blood.
The yellow Ford’s extended cab allowed all three of the women to c
limb into the back seat. The tallest one, with the black eye, handed Diegert an oily towel from the floor of the cab. Wiping as much blood as he could from the driver’s seat and steering wheel, Diegert then rubbed his hands, arms, and clothing. The towel was pretty saturated and did more to smear the blood than remove it. With no other option, Diegert tied the towel as tight as he could around his injured calf muscle. Nodding to Felix, he directed him to drive. Four wheeling around the smoldering Chevy and the smoking Sienna, Felix got the truck back on the dirt road and they all rode in silence even after reaching the LB expressway. Diegert couldn’t help but wonder what lay ahead for this strange band of travelers.
CHAPTER 22
The smooth roll over pavement was much more comfortable than the dirt road. Two of the women fell asleep as Felix kept the truck at 60 miles per hour. Lost in thought as the ribbon of asphalt stretched across the Nigerian coast, Diegert had to re-consider his perception of Klaus Panzer. He was so surprised by the decisive action displayed by his newfound father. The old man was extremely aggressive. He instigated and dominated the battle. He was ruthless with his weapons. Why he should find that surprising was perplexing, but having always seen the distinguished German as a power suit executive, left Diegert little room to perceive the guy as an effective combatant. From now on Panzer’s skills and abilities to personally deliver violence would never be overlooked. He also had to acknowledge that all five passengers in this truck would have been toast had the 50 cal not been taken out by Panzer’s return in the drone.
Snapping his head to the left, Diegert caught the gaze of the tall girl with the black eye. When their eyes locked she did not alter her peering stare. Diegert maintained the contact while asking, “English?”
She nodded.
“How long have you known Tiberius and his sister?”
“All my life.”
“What’s the sister’s name again?”
“Nikea.” She used her index finger to make a little swoosh in the air.
“What’s with the finger?” asked Diegert while mimicking the movement.
The girl reached down, removed her sandal and held it in front of Diegert pointing to the Nike swoosh emblem on the band.
“She’s named after a shoe company?”
“They make a lot more than just shoes,” she replied, replacing the sandal on her foot.
Smiling, Diegert asked, “What’s your name? And don’t tell me it’s Addidasa.”
The girl flinched and then smiled. “I am Kashani,” she said with pride. “My name has a long family history and needs no corporate sponsor. Felix is my brother.” She let her smile linger before adding, “What is your name Mr. white man and why are you here?”
Diegert looked into the bold eyes of this young woman, struggling to imagine anyone hitting her or keeping her captive. She projected confidence and her spirit seemed strong.
“I’m David and I’m here because my father brought me. I really don’t have an explanation or any idea about Boko Haram.”
Kashani’s smile dissipated. “Boko Haram is a bastardization of Islam. They are criminals masquerading as disciples of Allah. They shit on the Quran with their twisted interpretation of its rules.”
The anger simmering in the young woman was now at full boil.
“The man that Nikea killed, kidnapped us, holding us for three years. Chibueze Ozinwa mutilated our genitals and he and his men raped us for pleasure. Nowhere in the Quran are men given permission to treat women with such brutality and degradation. His death was justified and now his mutilated body,” Kashani used her thumb to point behind her, “lays in the back of the truck.”
Diegert’s mouth fell open. “It sounds like you endured real torture.”
“The only thing that helped me survive was the strength of my sisters.” Kashani put her arms around the two women sitting on either side of her, pulling them close. They both woke up, gradually re-engaging themselves.
Felix announced, “Up ahead there’s a police checkpoint.”
Conversation halted as all eyes focused on the cones in the road and the gray uniformed officers directing motorists to pull over into the inspection lane or waving them through to continue.
“What’s going on?” asked Diegert.
Shrugging Felix replied, “They do this if they’re looking for someone, but you can also see it is the nicer cars being delayed.” Felix turned his gaze on Diegert, “They’re collecting bribes.”
“Shit, how much?”
“Two thousand to five thousand nairas.”
“I’ve got a hundred US dollars.”
“No, no don’t let them know you have dollars. They will arrest you.”
“What for?”
“To ransom you.”
Diegert’s African naïveté was greeted by the ever-present smile of Felix. A thought occurred to Diegert, which if it worked, could solve two problems. Speaking to his fellow occupants he said, “Follow my lead and go along with what I say.”
Kashani said, “That’s all you’re going to tell us?”
With the truck slowing to a crawl in the traffic, Diegert stepped out, “I don’t have time to explain.” Closing the door, he looked back in. “But I know you’re smart.”
Vaulting into the bed of the pickup, Diegert unwrapped Ozinwa’s bloodstained head. Rearranging the tarp so it looked like a proper set of bed sheets, Diegert made certain only the head was visible.
As Felix approached the first officer, Diegert shouted out, “Injured man, let us through.”
The officer kept his hand raised as he stepped to the edge of the truck bed. His suspicious eyes studied Diegert’s face.
“He was injured at a construction site near Ado Odo.” Diegert stroked the forehead of the corpse, feigning concern and empathy. “We need to get him to a hospital.”
“Are you going to Lagos?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s still a long way. I’m a medic, let me see his wounds.”
Diegert said, “He was treated by a specialist before we left, please let us continue.”
“I am a police officer and also a medic.” Turning to one of his men, he barked, “Go get the medical kit from the truck.” He faced Diegert. “Before this truck will pass I am required to inspect the treatment of this man’s wounds.” Stepping to the back of the truck he dropped the tailgate. Diegert had the Berretta in his waistband, but he knew if he drew the weapon, he and his companions would die.
Lifting the tarp, the officer was aghast to see the man’s pants bunched up at his ankles and his genitals, covered in bloody red mud, separated from the body lying between the knees. With the officer’s astonished eyes upon him, Diegert raised his hands. “I hijacked this truck and made these people drive me.” Surrounding the truck, the other policemen trained their weapons on Diegert. “I have a gun, I will disarm.” Diegert used one hand to remove the Berretta, dropping it on the bed of the truck. The officer’s Glock was pointed at Diegert. With his hands returned to a raised position, the white American said, “Arrest me, but these people only did what I forced them to.”
The officer ordered, “Get out of the truck, lie face down on the ground.”
Stepping from the truck’s bed he was hit from behind with a rifle. His face hit the dirt hard before he got both feet on the ground. Sucking air, he choked, spitting blood and dust while his arms were cuffed behind him. A boot on his back compressed his chest. Diegert struggled to breathe.
“Good God they cut his balls off,” said the officer.
Three men dragged Diegert to a Nigerian Police pickup truck and threw him in. Peering out under the truck’s canvas canopy, Diegert saw the police inspecting Ozinwa’s body.
Felix leaned out the truck’s window with his effervescent smile masking his fear. To the closest policemen, he said, “Do you know who the dead man is?”
The policemen looked at him sternly as he shook his head.
“That is Chibueze Ozinwa.”
The surprise on the poli
ceman’s face made the smile on Felix’s grow even bigger.
“There is a bounty for him dead or alive,” he told the policeman.
Returning his attention to the rear of the truck, the policeman stepped over to the officer and spoke in his ear. The officer’s startled reaction and raised eyebrows triggered the policeman to locate a photo on his phone and show it to the officer. They stepped closer to the corpse and, upon inspection, the officer ordered the truck that held Diegert to pull up next to the yellow Ford.
“Get the prisoner out and move this body into our truck,” barked the officer.
Pulled from the truck and thrown to the ground, Diegert once again tasted the red dirt of Africa. The tarp with Ozinwa’s body was moved into the NP truck.
From the ground, Diegert overheard the officer instructing his men, “At the station, keep the body wrapped up. I will file a report and claim the bounty. We’ll all share in this prize.” The policemen excitedly prepared to depart.
“Don’t forget to retrieve your handcuffs.”
“Do you want to let him go?”
“He is of no value to us.”
Diegert anticipated a bullet in the head, but sighed with relief when he felt the cuffs removed from his wrists.
He remained on the ground until the NP trucks drove away. Sitting up he saw traffic resuming movement on the highway. He wobbled as he stood, the pain in his leg searing through his nerves. Felix, with his beaming smile, helped him to balance while Kashani, looking quite mischievous, held up the officer’s medical kit.
Spitting sand as he took painful steps Diegert groaned, “Let’s get to the Lagos Airport.”
CHAPTER 23
Kashani’s medical skills were put right to work as she administered a local anesthetic and began suturing Diegert’s leg wound. “I was studying to be a doctor when I was kidnapped,” she said. “Now I’ve gone three years with only experience educating me.”
“You have good skills,” said Diegert with a hand gesture toward his leg. “Will you go back to school now?”