Fortunately for the many innocent people affected by the war in The Congo, a ceasefire was currently in place and a withdrawal of all foreign troops had recently been ordered, which was why Sam was heading to Kinshasa.
However, for him personally, this had far greater significance as it represented perhaps his last remaining chance to catch up with Purcell before they were all evacuated out.
If that happened, he would almost certainly lose track of him again and this time it might possibly be for good.
Either way, Sam’s time in Africa was undoubtedly running out.
The evacuation order had heightened the urgency and forced his hand, leaving him knowing only one thing for sure.
It was now or never.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Sam’s platoon arrived in Kinshasa just before ten that night to find the detachment Purcell was with had been unavoidably delayed. Furthermore, they were not expected to rendezvous with them until sometime the following day.
The news came as no real surprise as delays and changed plans were to be expected in a conflict involving so many different factions.
However, the men Sam had been travelling with could not have cared less and upon reaching their destination quickly showered and changed into civilian clothing before heading into the bustling city in search of alcoholic refreshment and sexual release.
As soldiers of fortune, they had no barracks or army camp to speak of, so were put up in a hotel instead. The Kinshasa King was an old and crumbling establishment that had clearly enjoyed much better days. Nonetheless, even though war and hardship had done much to mar its original grandeur, the owners worked hard to maintain appearances.
Indeed, Sam was pleasantly surprised by the room he had been allotted on the fifth floor which, whilst extremely basic by Western standards, was no less comfortable. What is more, it looked out on the wide Congo River, upon which the city stood.
Once a collection of small fishing villages, Kinshasa was now a sprawling, colourful, metropolis that was fast-rivalling Paris in size. Full of brightly dressed, mahogany skinned people, it was a heaving melting pot of life in all its forms. Indeed, all things could be found there, it was just a case of knowing where to look.
As one of Africa’s most dangerous cities it was rife with gangs that hailed from the poverty of Kinshasa’s slums. Muggings, robberies, rape and kidnapping were all commonplace whilst homicide rates were rising rapidly. Orphaned children roamed the streets; tragic victims of the two Congo wars and an abusive, highly corrupt system.
Yet the thrill that such a place represented to the hardened killers of Sam’s platoon was just too much to resist.
Sam had to remind himself that he, too, was a killer. But he considered himself to be nothing like the men he served with. In fact, they made his stomach churn, so he remained at the hotel alone where he did not have to look at them any longer than absolutely necessary.
He was tired and missed home, although he was not entirely sure where home was anymore. Was it America or was it England? He did not really know. Indeed, he had spent so long away from either place that he was honestly not sure where he belonged at all.
Yet home was not the only thing he missed. He missed Claudette and his parents dreadfully, the thought of never seeing them again fuelling his need to carry on with the terrible vengeance he was still hell bent on exacting.
He missed Vas, too, his best friend who had been so loyal to him these past years; loyalty that could never truly be repaid. But thinking of Vas made Sam smile, the memories of the fun they had during their younger days never ceasing to cheer him in times of desperation and loneliness.
Times such as now.
But what made him feel so alone was the thought of forever being without the one person he so longed to be with; the very person he missed most of all; Miriam Dufour.
She would be thirty-one by now, maybe married, a couple of kids perhaps, undoubtedly a brilliant and successful doctor as Sam always knew she would be.
At the thought of her he again felt the familiar stab of regret, knowing the life they might once have shared together.
But it was not to be.
Sam’s destiny had been mapped out differently to Miriam’s, his future inextricably set since that afternoon in Cambridge so long ago.
His one hope, however, was that she was happy. Indeed, if he knew in his heart that Miriam had forgiven him and moved on with her life then it would be of some small consolation.
Nevertheless, Sam knew such wistfulness was not helpful to his general state of mind so stripped off his clothes and turned on the antiquated shower, eagerly looking forward to feeling the hot stream wash over his weary body.
However, he was just about to step in when he noticed only one small hand towel dangling from the rail in his bathroom. After a quick search he realised it was the only towel of any kind he had been provided.
With a prickle of annoyance, he picked up the phone and buzzed down to reception where a polite female voice assured him several fresh bath towels would be sent up to his room immediately.
Sure enough, less than five minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door.
Sam was still naked so he wrapped the tiny hand towel around his waist to disguise his modesty, although it only barely did the job. However, it was sufficient enough for his requirements.
He snatched open the door, for some reason expecting to see a man standing out there in the corridor but instead he saw a young woman.
Sam was immediately struck by her beauty; dark, chocolate coloured skin, large almond-shaped eyes, finely sculpted cheek bones and plump, dusty-pink lips. Indeed, her proud, regal features were surely those of an African princess not a hotel maid.
Shocked by Sam’s near naked appearance, she could not help but notice him either, immediately impressed by his ripped, muscular physique and ruggedly handsome face.
“Sorry,” said Sam with a start, “I was expecting a man not a—“
“Your towels, sir,” the girl interrupted, slightly embarrassed as she tore her gaze from his carved torso and stared directly into his kind blue eyes. “Please accept our apologies.” Her voice was soft and slightly husky, the accent distinctly French with a faint African undertone, as was only to be expected in The Congo, but her English good.
“That’s fine, thank you,” Sam replied, taking them from her, feeling a little frisson of electricity as their hands briefly touched.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, after passing the towels over. “Will there be anything else?”
“No, I think that’s everything.”
She nodded her acknowledgment, pausing just a second longer than necessary as their eyes met once more, then quickly turned and scurried away.
Sam watched her for a moment as she hurried up the tired hotel corridor and was sharply reminded of how long he had been without the tenderness of a woman’s touch.
However, after a moment he realised he was still wearing nothing but a towel so finally closed the door.
Time, at last, for that shower.
***
An hour or so later, his week old growth of thick stubble now cleanly shaven and his body feeling thoroughly refreshed, Sam headed down to the hotel bar for a much needed drink.
He was now wearing a white cheesecloth shirt, open at the neck, and a pair of clean, beige cargo trousers. On his feet he wore a tatty pair of suede desert boots but they were soft and comfortable and made a pleasant change from the hard, leather combat variety he had been wearing for weeks on end.
The bar was busier than expected although far from packed; the clientele seemingly made up mostly of foreigners. Sam spotted several Europeans along with one or two Americans, all of whom, he suspected, were profiting in one way or another from the strife riven country they were guests in.
Nonetheless, they paid him no attention,
nor he them, as he strode over to the bar, content to keep his own company.
As he perched himself on a torn, vinyl barstool, he immediately saw the girl who had brought him the towels again. Now, however, she was serving behind the bar.
Sam eyed her surreptitiously as she handed a fat German businessman in a light grey suit a frothy pint of Tembo beer. In turn, the man threw a couple of notes at her, barely even acknowledging her presence.
Yet Sam could not help but notice her. She was tall, around twenty-five years old and dressed very much in the Congolese style - brightly-coloured turban, plain white linen blouse and an ankle-length, loudly patterned sarong.
Her figure seemed to Sam to be also typically African; lean with a slender neck, large round breasts, narrow waist and a generous, well padded derriere which, he was willing to bet, sat atop a pair of long, shapely legs.
When she had finished with the German she saw Sam waiting and hurried over. “Hello again, sir. What can I get you?”
Sam smiled warmly. It was a good smile, probably his best feature, and it quite took her breath away, as had his physique which she had witnessed in almost all its glory just a short time earlier.
Nonetheless she had learnt through bitter experience to be wary of the mercenaries who came to her country supposedly to free her people from injustice. In fact, she had found the truth to be precisely the opposite. Yet something about this one was different. Moreover, he seemed kind - considerate, even - which was something else she had not previously encountered amongst those of his ilk.
“Hello,” he said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.“
“It’s Natalie, sir.”
“Hi, Natalie. I’m Sam. Nice to meet you - again - I mean,” he said, suddenly feeling awkward. It had been a very long time since he had spoken to such a beautiful women and was seriously out of practice. “Thanks again for the towels - they were great.”
‘They were great!’ Sam inwardly berated himself, what the hell was that supposed to mean?
Natalie sensed his discomfort and suppressed a giggle. She could not help but like him, regardless of her initial misgivings. “Nice to meet you, too. And the towels were my pleasure.” She thought of his hard, muscular body once more. Indeed, it was very much her pleasure.
“What would you like?” She said.
“Beer please.”
“Tembo okay?”
“Sure. Anything - as long as it’s cold.”
Natalie smiled. “One ice cold Tembo coming right up.”
A few moments later she returned with his pint of beer as promised. “You want to open a tab, Sam?”
“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”
“No problem,” she replied and was about to turn away when she added, “Much better by the way.”
Sam looked at her quizzically. “Better?” He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Natalie rubbed her chin with her long dark fingers, “The clean shave - it suits you much better. I like it.”
Sam smiled, “Ah, good, I doubt I could’ve looked much worse.”
“Believe me,” Natalie replied, feeling quite effected by his very pleasing smile, “you’ve got nothing to worry about.” She felt herself flush, suddenly aware of how coquettish she was being which was most out of character - especially as she had been treated very badly by a soldier in the past.
Yet she could not seem to help herself from flirting with Sam. “Anyway,” she added, “like I said, it looks nice.”
“Thanks,” said Sam, pleased with the compliment. “So, how many jobs do you have here anyway? Housekeeper, bar maid - I’m guessing it was you I spoke with on reception earlier, too - is there no end to your talents?”
Natalie grinned, her pretty face lighting up as she displayed a perfect array of shiny white teeth. “What’s that expression the British use? Jack of all trades, master of none - is that it? Well I guess that’s me.”
“I don’t buy that one little bit,” Sam countered, “it looks to me like this place can’t do without you.”
“Ah, well, that’s because it belongs to me - at least to my family,” she replied.
“Seriously?”
“Cross my heart - is that right?“
“Yeah, that’s right,” Sam beamed.
“Good.” Said Natalie, “Then, yes, it belongs to me - well, my father actually, but he has been ill for a long time so now I run it on his behalf.”
“So then I was right,” Sam replied, “a woman of many talents indeed.”
Natalie gave him a mischievous smirk. “Yes, then I suppose I must agree.”
As much as she was enjoying their conversation, people were now waiting to be served so she had to go.
“Give me a call when you need another, okay?” She said, “I’ll be right over there.”
Sam raised his glass in thanks, “Sure. Will do.”
***
By the time Sam was halfway through his third pint the bar had cleared significantly. In fact only the fat German, the three other men he was with, and Sam remained.
He and Natalie had chatted briefly during the previous hour or so, flirting just a little, but clearly signalling their interest in each other. Yet she had been kept too busy for them to pursue their mutual attraction any further.
Now, however, with things much quieter, she wandered over to where he was sitting. “You’re an American, yes?”
“That obvious, huh?”
She smiled. “You’re a long way from home.”
“Further than you can imagine.”
“So you’re with the soldiers who came in earlier?” She asked, knowing very well that he was, even though she still found it hard to believe.
“Kinda. But not really. It’s a long story. Suffice to say my reasons are not what you might think.”
“And what might I think?” She asked coyly.
“Oh, I dunno - that I’m in it for the money I guess, or that I somehow get off on violence.”
Natalie looked at him squarely in the eyes, surprised by his candour, her gaze suddenly intense. “What and you don’t?”
He stared directly back at her. “No. I don’t,” he said emphatically.
She was in no doubt that he was telling the truth. Indeed, she could detect no malice in him whatsoever, nothing that her instincts told her to be wary of, which made him very different from the majority of men she had met in years, soldier or otherwise.
“And not the money either?” She asked, unable to disguise her astonishment.
“Definitely not that,” Sam replied.
But he was uncomfortable now, aware that he had already revealed too much. Yet it was just so nice, so welcome, to have a woman’s company for a change.
And Natalie was certainly all woman. Indeed, he found her intoxicating.
“You’re very beautiful, you know that?” He said, the beer now speaking on his behalf.
She grinned at the unexpected compliment, unable to stop herself. Even though they had spoken little, she felt strangely drawn to him - his dashing smile and sad, gentle eyes - it was easy for her to see why.
Yet his reasons for being in her country puzzled her too. In fact everything about him was intriguing and she found herself eager to find out more.
However, no matter how much she wanted to spend more time in Sam’s company, it was late and she had to shut the bar.
“You are something of a mystery, I think,” said Natalie tenderly. “I suspect you have great depths that need to be explored—“
“Then come to my room tonight,” Sam blurted, unable to stop himself, the alcohol having loosened his inhibitions. Suddenly he was desperate to feel the touch of her skin and the softness of her lips upon his. They hardly knew each other, had barely spoken, but there was a definite spark, he could tell and he knew she felt it too. However, he immedi
ately felt guilty at his inappropriate outburst. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Please forgive me. It’s just that it’s been such a long time since—“
“Hey! Four more beers!” The fat German shouted from the other end of the bar, interrupting Sam from what he was about to say.
Natalie turned to face the man. “I’m sorry, sir. We’re closing now - but there’s another bar just around the corner that stays open until the early hours - I’m sure you could get—“
“I said four more beers!” The German shouted again, completely ignoring what Natalie had said. “Now!”
“No, sir. I’m sorry. We’re closing.” Natalie was now being polite but firm. “Like I said, there’s a place around the corn—“
“Listen you filthy black bitch - you either get me four more beers or I will pour them myself!”
However, Sam had heard more than enough. “No, you listen. The lady said no. Now be a good boy and be on your way.”
The German turned to face him, his fat face fixed with a snarl as his friends climbed off their barstools and stood beside him. “You would do well to stay out of it, yank,” he growled.
“Yeah? Well maybe,” Sam said, “but good sense was never my strong suit.”
“I mean it, yank,” the German said, “If you know what’s good for you - walk away. This is between the woman and us. All we want is four more beers, that’s all.” Then he grinned wickedly before adding with a snigger, “Oh, and now maybe a blowjob, too.”
Whilst the fat man and his friends burst into fits of drunken laughter, Sam stood up from his stool so that they could all take a really good look at his tall, muscular frame.
Immediately the laughter died away.
“Not gonna happen, boys,” Sam said with steely resolve, “If you want more beer then I suggest you go to the bar around the corner. If you wanna blowjob then you better look to each other cos you sure as hell ain’t gonna get one here.”
Perfect Day Page 35