But Purcell suspected that name to be merely an alias and that Ryder and Beresford were actually one and the same person.
In fact, the very same person who had gone to great lengths to have himself incarcerated in a prison camp in Siberia for the sole purpose of killing Williams himself.
Now, four years after Williams’ death, a man calling himself ‘Ryder’ was in The Congo apparently hunting him, too.
In the insane turmoil of Purcell’s mind, the boy they had left for dead in that glade in Cambridge had now become a wraith-like creature; an angel of death who had grown strong, dark and menacing - a vengeful spectre who could strike anywhere, at any time, without warning, to claim yet another life in retribution for the one Purcell and his cohorts had stolen so long ago.
To combat this threat, he had written to his former commanding officer, James Locke, at his last known address, in the hope that together they might meet the phantom that was stalking them head on.
But there had been no reply to his letter and Purcell could not help but wonder if Locke might be dead too.
Yet somehow he thought it unlikely. James Locke was a skilful and ruthless soldier - a stone-cold killer - much like himself. Yet recently, the vividness of Purcell’s dreams had made him question everything around him. He found it increasingly difficult to determine what was real and what was not which in turn had made him insecure and distrustful of his own capabilities; his judgement seriously impaired.
Nevertheless, it was clear to Purcell that Locke was no longer an option and whatever was coming he would have to face alone.
With the terror of it crawling up his spine like a giant spider, Purcell knew he had to get out of Africa before he, too, joined the four dead men who had been with him in Cambridge.
Thankfully there had been a full withdrawal of all troops ordered so Purcell now knew for definite that he would be leaving. What is more, a helicopter carrying him and his platoon would be flying out of Kinshasa in just a few days.
Very soon he would be able to leave all his fears far behind and start a new life where no one would ever find him, living comfortably on the wealth he had accumulated from his long service as a mercenary.
He squinted his eyes to shield them from the last dazzling rays of the setting sun as it slowly disappeared behind the tallest buildings of the city, the bright crescent moon scar on his cheek shining white against his deeply tanned face as he thought about what he might spend his money on.
The endless possibilities played over in his mind as he drove his jeep into the beating heart of the troubled capital; winding his way through the swarming streets en-route to the designated rendezvous on the banks of The Congo River, the rest of his detachment following in the trucks behind.
The convoy’s progress to Kinshasa had been slow; hampered by a series of unforeseen delays, and even now they were over two days late but finally the end was in sight.
Yet it still seemed somewhat ironic to Purcell that the rallying point was a hotel in which he had spent so much time in the past. In fact, he could not help but wonder if the girl who ran the place back then might still be there.
If so, she may yet provide some distraction again whilst he waited to be airlifted out.
He had endured a long, hot, dusty journey without so much as a sniff of female company and she would certainly be the tonic he needed to make his last remaining hours in Africa just that bit more tolerable.
The threat of demons notwithstanding, he had needs and desires just like any other man and The Kinshasa King was a place where his sadistic demands could be amply satisfied. Indeed, the delights to be found there might also be enough to temporarily vanquish the very demons he was so scared of - whether they be real or imagined.
Either way, the very real threat from the man who had been doggedly tracking him across Africa for the last four years would soon be a thing of the past as very shortly he was due to be evacuated out of The Congo - and after that, Darius Purcell would never be troubled by such demons again.
***
Sam was beginning to wonder if Purcell had slipped through his fingers yet again. Helicopters had been leaving the city all day, all packed with heavily armed troops who would not be coming back.
The hotel was swarming with yet more soldiers and he had only caught the odd glimpse of Natalie since she slipped out of his room in the early hours of that morning - she and the rest of her staff struggling to cope with the sudden influx of so many men.
The hotel, along with the expanse of open ground between it and the river, was buzzing with life; a manic hive of activity packed with troops, trucks and heavy equipment, all scheduled to be airlifted out in the coming days.
Sam’s platoon had been allocated their slot on a helicopter leaving Kinshasa the following afternoon and he was expected to be on it with them - but he had still not set eyes on his prey.
Indeed, his task of finding Purcell had been made even harder by the sheer volume of people swarming around in the organised chaos of the evacuation.
With the hotel now at full capacity, each of its rooms having been very quickly occupied by the men who had been arriving in a steady stream over the last forty-eight hours, many of the late-comers had been forced to bivouac on the banks of the river in a makeshift army camp that was, in fact, a confused and bustling hotchpotch of hastily erected tents.
Nevertheless, Sam was one of the lucky ones who had managed to secure a bed in the hotel. What is more, thanks to Natalie, he had a room all to himself, whilst many others had been forced to share. Several of the larger rooms housed up to ten men sleeping on whatever available mattresses, camp beds or just blankets on the ground the hotel could offer them.
Yet it was only temporary and within a few days the troops would be gone and The Kinshasa King would once again return to the quiet, under occupied establishment it more usually was.
However, whilst Natalie had no fondness for her rough, boisterous clientele, the revenue she earned from their short stay there would greatly assist the hotel’s struggling finances for some time to come. Indeed, the money they spent in the bar alone would pay for the refurbishment of many of the bedrooms.
The only sad thing about it was that she would not be seeing Sam anymore. With his departure set for tomorrow their time together was very limited, especially as she was now so busy.
Each of them knew, of course, that their romance was little more than an intense sexual attraction; an enjoyable yet fleeting distraction from lives following two entirely separate paths. But the knowledge of this did not diminish the pleasure of what they had shared, in fact it seemed only to enhance it. What is more, Natalie hoped to repeat the experience again that night before Sam was airlifted out of Kinshasa tomorrow.
Whilst the idea of this appealed greatly to Sam also, he had other more pressing matters to attend to before he could even think about another night with Natalie.
Indeed, before he set foot on that helicopter tomorrow, he had to first find Darius Purcell.
And then he had to kill him.
***
Sam had spent the better part of the day milling around outside the hotel, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as he wandered through the mishmash shanty town of tents that had sprung up almost overnight, frantically looking for Purcell.
Yet his efforts had been fruitless.
Furthermore, as dusk fell over the city, his search was made even more difficult. Many of the men whose allotted evac time was not imminently scheduled began wandering away from the assembly point and into the bars and clubs of Kinshasa, thereby making Sam’s task nigh on impossible.
Before long, he had no choice but to give up entirely as the grounds around the hotel were very nearly deserted, with only those set for departure that night loitering around in readiness.
The hotel itself was now equally void of life as Sam strolled back inside. He saw
Natalie still behind the bar, looking utterly exhausted, but whereas earlier she was serving a crowd of men maybe six deep, all shouting their orders and crammed into the barroom shoulder to shoulder, she was now serving just a few; the rest having staggered into the city with their comrades.
She glanced over at Sam and smiled yet before he could respond in kind she was called away by a customer demanding a refill.
Leaving Natalie to her work, Sam sauntered over to the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor feeling more than a little depressed; his four years in Africa seemingly amounting to nothing but false leads and missed opportunities.
Once again, Purcell had slipped through his fingers and the reality of it weighed heavily. His long search had drawn a blank and he did not have the slightest clue as to where he might look next.
As he exited the elevator, he thought again of Claudette; of how badly she had suffered at the hands of the men he had sworn to kill.
He could picture in his mind’s eye the disgusting sight of Darius Purcell pulling on the chain around her lacerated neck, rutting on her from behind as his cohort, Brendan Williams, brutally forced himself down her throat.
Furthermore, Sam could still vividly see his fiancé’s eyes bulging as she choked and fought for breath, yet neither of her attackers would relent, such was their evil thirst for gratification.
Sam opened the door to his room and stumbled inside; bile rising in his throat and tears of anguish burning his eyes as he tried desperately to shut the image of Claudette’s struggles out of his mind, knowing he had failed her.
Indeed, with Purcell most probably gone, he found himself right back at square one.
His only hope of rescue from the tide of overwhelming depression that threatened to wash over him was Natalie.
Her tender ministrations perhaps being enough to console him for at least a short time and delay the crushing sense of defeat he felt in the very depths of his soul.
But then, as Sam stripped off his clothes, about to step into the shower, he heard the sound of yet more trucks rolling in. It surprised him as he thought all those being airlifted out were already accounted for.
Quickly he turned off the water and strode naked onto the balcony to see the trucks pulling up below and troops being off-loaded.
His spirits soared. Perhaps he had been premature in his belief that Purcell had evaded him - perhaps he might yet find the man he sought amongst these late arrivals.
If there was even the slimmest chance then there was not a moment to lose.
Aware that Africa might not yet have done with him, Sam was suddenly pulling his clothes on once more, determined to get back downstairs as quickly as possible.
Swiftly he grabbed his trusty Damascus Bowie knife which had been his constant companion for the last four years and tucked it back into his boot where he kept it, securely, in case of emergencies.
Then, snatching up his gun belt; his heart pounding and his adrenaline pumping, he bolted from the room, desperately hoping that fate might still have one final hand to play.
***
The sun had fully set by the time the convoy had wound its way through the sprawling city and as they finally approached the hotel Purcell slowed the jeep to allow the trailing truck to pull alongside.
He had already received a radio message to inform him that due to their late arrival rooms were no longer available for them at The Kinshasa King so his platoon had been advised to find a space to pitch camp within the recently erected tent village.
With the vehicles still moving at a steady pace, Purcell shouted this order to the driver of the lead truck, adding that he had business to attend to and would find them later. The driver nodded his acknowledgement as Purcell let the truck go on ahead, followed by the three others in the convoy.
Once they had all passed, he followed on behind. However, whilst the trucks headed for the front of the hotel, he veered the jeep away and navigated it around to the delivery entrance at the rear of the property, pulling into a parking bay in the quiet, deserted area near the kitchens.
The Kinshasa King had once been his base in the city; a place he considered to be a home of sorts, so to be told there was no room available to him was nothing short of an insult. To his mind, there would always be room for him and if none of the guest accommodations were available then he was damn sure the woman who ran the place would make space in her own bed for him.
Indeed, the more Purcell considered this, the more it appealed. In fact, it was the delicious thought of Natalie’s bounteous delights that had kept him going for the last few hours; his parched mouth watering as he recalled the pleasure of her darkly voluptuous curves struggling beneath him and the little whimper of pain she would emit as his belt lashed the tender meat of her generously proportioned rump.
As he turned off the headlights and leapt from the jeep, he felt himself stiffen at the promise of such forbidden delights; the idea of surprising Natalie fuelling his excitement.
Firstly, however, he had to get her alone.
Silently he pulled his Glock from its holster then carefully opened the door to the kitchen before stealthily slipping inside.
The kitchen was a hive of activity; six staff busily tidying up and cleaning down surfaces after a hectic day’s work which had now, thankfully relented. Indeed, once they had finished with their chores they were all heading home for some much needed sleep before returning again at dawn when the onslaught would inevitably be repeated.
They were all so busy with their work that no one noticed Purcell enter - nor him standing by the door with the Glock pointed at them. Indeed, it would have been so easy for him to pick them off one by one - just like shooting fish in a barrel. He even flirted with the idea briefly; his finger poised impatiently on the trigger as the tantalising thought of it scampered merrily through his brain. Christ it was tempting.
Yet the temptation of Natalie was stronger.
“Hey!” He said in a loud whisper that would not carry beyond the confines of kitchen.
The six members of staff, all native to Kinshasa, turned as one, clearly alarmed by the sight of him standing there, his gun aimed directly at them. A couple made to scream but Purcell jabbed a finger to his lips. “Ssh! Not a word or you die - understand?”
All nodded silently in terror.
“Good. Now, get out,” whispered Purcell, gesturing to the door through which he had just entered. “Go - and don’t come back!” There was no need for him to tell them not to say anything to anyone as he knew they would not. They would not dare approach any of the soldiers and the authorities were not to be trusted. Much better to stay quiet and keep their heads down, as was the best way to survive in The Congo.
Indeed, after only the briefest hesitation, each of them did exactly as instructed, sidling warily past the intruder, scared for their lives, before hurrying through the door into the comparative safety of the night.
With the large room now empty, Purcell strolled casually across to the swing door that led to the bar and took a peep through the circular window in its centre.
Sure enough, Natalie was there, right where he suspected she would be - as he remembered her being on almost every evening at this time. She was cleaning glasses as her last two customers downed their drinks and very shortly she would be alone.
All Purcell had to do was wait.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Sam charged out of the elevator, through the deserted lobby and passed the unmanned front desk in his hurry to get outside, yet the grounds surrounding The Kinshasa King looked unlike those of any hotel he had ever seen before.
To the right, towards the river was the sizeable tented encampment, whilst along the boundary at the front, military vehicles clogged the roadway. In the parking lot, located to the left of the hotel, heavy equipment and stacks of crated supplies stood waiting to be airlifted out.
Also in evidence were several members of the private security firm who were overseeing the complicated logistics of the operation; their khaki attired employees visible at strategic locations around the property.
Various representatives of this security team were presently attending to the combat unit who had just arrived in the three dusty trucks that had pulled up directly in front of the hotel and were busily directing the tired and disgruntled troops to the nearby camp site.
However, aside from these small pockets of activity, the hotel grounds were otherwise free of human life; the boisterous temporary inhabitants having all ventured into the dangerous city for one last taste of its nefarious delights.
But Sam was not concerned about them as it was the new arrivals he was interested in.
Once outside, he forcibly adopted a more casual demeanour as he strolled nonchalantly over to where they were gathered, hoping to discover if Purcell was amongst them.
He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and slid one between his teeth as he approached the soldier nearest to him.
“Hey, got a light pal?” He asked.
The man immediately recognised Sam to be a fellow comrade in arms. “Sure,” he replied, taking a Zippo from his pocket and deftly flicking it open to produce a long yellow flame.
“Thanks,” replied Sam bending his head to it. “Just in, huh?” He added, puffing on the cigarette until it was properly lit.
“Yep. Four days in the back of a goddamn truck to be told we’re sleeping on the fuckin’ ground cos there ain’t no rooms left in the hotel.” The soldier was clearly unhappy.
“You’re not alone,” said Sam, “most of us here are in the same boat.” He neglected to mention that he had a nice comfortable hotel room all to himself.
“Yeah, guess so.”
“Who’s your C.O.? Maybe he could sort it out.” Sam asked.
“You gotta be kidding, that bastard ain’t interested in anyone but himself.” Sneered the man.
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