by Peter Riva
Bob, for his part, dreamt that he was a lamb staked to the ground, and lions were closing in. His boss was supposed to be ready to shoot before the lions got the sacrificial lamb, but they were too busy talking about how wonderful their jobs at Treasury were. Bob died over and over again.
The satellite call awakened Pero, who found he had it in his right hand, which was pinned underneath his chest, his arm tattoo of his deceased wife Addiena once again touching his heart. It took him a moment to realize where he was, but then he pushed the sequence of buttons to answer.
“Lewis here; two hours ago, thirteen thirty-two Zulu, SUV and Nissan used truck with two in open bed passing over small lake on boat then entering compound of logging company, perhaps sawmill, southeast side of train line near Kombe.”
Pero thought, Thirteen thirty-two Zulu; that’ll be local time four thirty-two. “Copy that. Distance from Kombe to Moyowosi airstrip at Mgwesi? Size of lumber yard or mill?”
“Distance as the crow flies, twenty or twenty-five miles. Approx. six acres, perimeter wired fence. Two entrances, one for railcars taking logs and cut timber away, one facing lake. No road access, only rail is visible. Six semi tractor-trailers in compound, all log carriers. Three flatbed trucks, all similar. One Mercedes SUV and one utility truck, specialist type.”
“Unimog?”
“Could be. Also, train schedule shows expected pickup freight sixteen hundred hours Zulu coming from east but currently no rail cars in mill compound or seen loaded. Second freight train expected from west, leaving Kigoma and Ujiji, arriving oh-eight-hundred hours Zulu, may be carrying empty cars as computer manifest shows collecting timber. No visual on incoming train yet. Schedule shows same train type leaves westward from Dar for Kigoma every day at approximately five a.m.”
Pero made a mental note. If the Kigoma train arrives on time, they are planning to load lumber and logs within two hours. “Who runs the train company? How accurate are those times?”
“German rail technicians, so should be reliable times, plus or minus.”
Pero paused. “Lewis, if anything happens, you’ll take care of Susanna, won’t you?”
Without hesitation, Lewis responded, “I’ll have to fight that sister of hers and probably Heep and Mary, but of course I will.” Pero was pleased that he said I and not we. “Look, get Ube out of there and run, run like the wind.”
Run, a command to run from Lewis? Pero thought. What does he know that we don’t? “Lewis, what are we really up against. This is not like you.”
“Just do as I say for once, and I’ll explain after. The less you know . . .”
“Yeah, the less I can tell if I’m not lucky.” Pero knew the risk of working in the field. If you were only doing something simple and had no other knowledge, you were more likely not to be a threat worth killing if captured. “I’m not happy here, but I’ll run like hell once we get Ube back.” He avoided saying if we can get him back. He disconnected the phone and went to talk with Mbuno and Bob, giving them the update on the lumber mill.
Mbuno asked Teddy to fetch the rifle he carried on safari. Mbuno knew Teddy probably could not shoot very well; askari were hardly ever given live fire practice. Teddy handed the aging rifle to Bob along with the only two shells the safari had been issued under license and Pero told Bob to dry practice with the rifle and be ready. Bob looked happy to have something to do as he cycled the rifle’s bolt action. “Thirty-aughtsix, good rifle. Old, but it’ll do man, it’ll do.”
Pero said, “Now we eat again and break camp. Get everything into the Land Rover on the top, and we’ll head to the airstrip to the plane. It is time for them”—he pointed to Teddy and Keriako—“to leave.”
CHAPTER 13
Njia Moja Pekee, Mji Mmoja—Only One Road, Only One Town
At the airstrip two hours later, the pilots professed their surprise to be taking the two askari to Nairobi alone with all the equipment. Bob retained his medical kit and rifle; Pero, the RT and a good pair of safari binoculars the brothers had handed him; and Mbuno, the extra biscuits and the refilled water container. Pero gave the pilots instructions that, on landing, they were to turn the two brothers over to Tone Bowman and Tone Bowman only, then they were to stay with the plane and be ready to fly and pick them up, no matter where. They agreed, happy to be getting overtime pay.
As soon as the Cessna departed, Mbuno told Bob to park the Land Rover, now empty of the camp equipment, deep in the forest at the eastern end of the runway. Mbuno and Pero drove behind him on the airstrip in the other Land Rover that was still full of fuel, with an extra jerrycan on the back. When Bob emerged from the forest, he climbed into the back of their Land Rover and raised his eyebrows upon seeing that Mbuno was not driving. Pero explained, “He sees and knows better than I do. He’ll tell me where to go.”
They set off for Kombe. The graded two-lane dirt road ended a half mile from the airstrip, petering out to a single track with twin tire ruts, deeply gouged, some filled with mud and water. Mbuno seemed satisfied. “It is well traveled, see the sides?” He pointed to the cut into deep ruts. “Something very big, not long ago.”
“Surely those Volvos couldn’t navigate this road, could they?” Bob asked.
Pero had recognized the trucks for what they were and explained. He had seen the same models in Alaska, all-wheel-drive behemoths, six-by-eight axle configurations, capable of traversing thirty-degree inclines while hauling over twenty tons. Dirt roads were no match for their thirty-eight-inch tires. Mbuno commented, “Two passed here; see tracks.” He pointed, but neither Bob nor Pero could see what Mbuno’s sharp eyes had discerned. It didn’t matter; they both knew Mbuno would not make a mistake. Mbuno continued, “It has not rained since. They were very heavy when they went.”
Pero asked, “Could they be the same ones we saw this morning?” Mbuno thought they could; the heavy load gave them away. Pero concluded, “Logs, freshly cut from up alongside the Moyowosi.”
“Ndiyo.”
As they drove along, bouncing from one rut to the other, Pero tried to straddle the ruts and often failed, slipping and sliding in and out of them. He bottomed out the Land Rover on the packed earth hump in the middle. He knew the vehicle was built strong and that the fuel line and brake lines would be tucked up into the chassis. What he was more concerned about was ripping off the exhaust and releasing the diesel’s raucous sound. He slowed to decrease slippage and hard contact.
At one point, as darkness began to fall, Mbuno unlatched the observation hatch that all safari vehicles have cut into the roof and stood on the front left seat to get a better view. After a few moments, he squatted and told Pero to pull into the bush off to the right and cut the lights and motor. Pero turned the wheel, advanced a dozen yards, knocking down small bushes and grass, turned the key just enough to silence the engine, and pushed off the headlight switch.
Mbuno stood again. Bob and Pero sat silently, waiting, listening intently to the surrounding wildlife sounds and calls. Mbuno kept watch unmovingly. Suddenly, he flopped back down on the seat, whispering, “Ndovu.”
Elephant! Here? Pero recognized Mbuno had used the Liangulu word instead of the Swahili word tembo. He stared out the windscreen into the gloom. The early stars illuminated the bush, but there was no moon yet. Pero could see nothing resembling an elephant and whispered, “Where, Mbuno?”
Mbuno made a circle, just barely visible in the glow of the Land Rover’s instrument panel. Pero looked from side to side and could see nothing except vegetation. Suddenly, a thin tree trunk moved six yards to their right, its uppermost branches sweeping the night sky. Mbuno popped up through the hatch again just as the herd surrounded the Land Rover, passing by, jostling the chassis that was clearly in their way. Once they were past, Mbuno sat down in his seat again and simply said, “A good family, twelve, two totos.” He made a gesture to Pero spinning his finger in the air.
Pero started the engine and looked at Mbuno as he touched the headlight switch. Mbuno shook his head and said
, “Follow, tafadhali, no light.” Pero did as he was told, slowly in first gear, the bush now flattened before the Land Rover, the elephants’ passage easy to follow slowly. When the elephant reached the rutted road, they turned right in the same direction Pero had been driving. Pero glanced at Mbuno who nodded, just visible in the dark.
From the back seat, Bob said, “Oh my God, man, I could’ve touched them! Real elephant, man, this is so damn cool.” Even Pero grinned. In Africa, even with the wildlife all around, nothing was as unique and wonderful as elephant. The spirits of all three men rose as the miles went by, the Land Rover slowly following the herd.
Pero was aware that compared to the massive bodies in front of them, one Land Rover should not be easily spotted. It was like moving camouflage. But he had to ask, “What’ll we do when they turn off this path?”
Mbuno knew elephant; more than anything, he knew elephant. Elephant marching with determination, not feeding when there was food all around, meant only one thing—a need for water. They were headed to water, to bathe and drink in the cool of the night. So he gave Pero his best guess. “Mr. Lewis said there was a lake. Then the mill. They head to water. We will follow. We will see the water from the forest, or we will see a marsh. I do not know, but we will be hidden. That is good. The elephant will help us.”
Pero and Bob thought Mbuno meant that the elephant were useful, getting them safely out of sight, nearer the mill. But Mbuno had other plans.
CHAPTER 14
Kuoga na Tembo—Bathing with Elephant
The half-moon was finally up, and the road through the forest was widened by the herd, their giant feet pounding the soil to become almost a level roadway. Briefly looking up through the open hatch, Pero could see the stars and even the Southern Cross framed by mature trees on each side of the Land Rover. The driving was slow, steady, and the elephant did not seem to mind that the men were driving along, a few hundred yards behind.
As Mbuno predicted, once they came over a rise, they could see a little lake below, not more than a mile long by half a mile wide. The forest ended at the top of the rise, replaced by dense bush and then tall grasses for the half mile downhill to the edge of the water. A quarter mile before the lake’s end, train tracks stretched from left to right. Next to the train track was a dirt road following the tracks.
The elephant wasted no time, plunging straight ahead, over the railroad ties and dirt road, oldest elephants first, followed by the totos, entering the water with playful glee. Mbuno made Pero turn the Land Rover off into the shimmering water before the last elephant disappeared. They stopped, hidden by rushes and tall marsh grass, some taller than the vehicle itself. Mbuno told Bob and Pero to join him through the hatch.
Pero was the tallest of the three, and he could just see through the rushes above the grass across the lake. He scanned with the binoculars and saw nothing, just some industrial yellow lights about a half mile away across the lake. Even with the half-moon, there was not enough light to make anything out. Besides, clouds were scuttling across the moon now and then. He explained what he could see to Mbuno, who merely said to wait. Bob wanted to know where they went from here as the truck tracks ended at the lake, turning neither left nor right, and didn’t follow the train tracks or service road.
Mbuno pointed to a rock outcrop fifty feet to the right of where the elephant entered the water. Pero trained the binoculars but did not know what he was looking for. As he swept left to right, he watched an elephant that seemed to trip and tumble over in the shallow water, immediately righting itself and moving away from the place he had tripped. Pero saw a glint of metal. He peered intently through the binoculars and said, “Wire.”
Mbuno nodded.
Bob said, “What, where?” Pero pointed at the rocks and then moved his finger down to the water. He handed over the binoculars. Bob focused and leaned forward, trying to see what was possibly there. “Ah, got it. Big, thick cable. What’s it for, man?”
Mbuno answered, “It is a ferry cable.” He pointed to the flat beach. “It goes from here across the water to the other side.” That was half a mile away. Bob wanted to know why they needed a cable; there was no current in the lake and you could simply drive a boat across. Mbuno explained, “When there is no bridge for trucks, you need a strong boat—”
Pero interrupted, “A barge?”
“Yes, a barge, tafadhali. A barge cannot have a motor in the water, it is too shallow. It has a motor that pulls along the cable.”
It appeared simple and effective to Bob and Pero. No propeller to get tangled in the weeds or rocks in shallow water, the barge would simply winch itself across. Pero asked, “So I guess the barge is over on the other side, right?”
“Ndiyo.”
“So we drive around, or walk around the lake?”
Mbuno shook his head. Pero was worried. Pero guessed what Mbuno was going to suggest. He was unfortunately right when Mbuno explained, “We must swim. There is no path we can take without lights to drive. On foot there is great danger from hippo. No, we must swim.”
Bob was alarmed. “What about crocs?”
In the starlight and moonlight, Mbuno’s smile was radiant. “It is why we need the ndovu. The crocodiles will be in shallow water, but not”—he pointed at the frolicking herd—“anywhere near ndovu. They would be trampled.” He patted Bob on the shoulder. “It will be all right.”
Pero said, “What do we need?” They compiled a list of what they had and what they would take. Bob volunteered a plastic bag for the satellite phone. Each carried a knife, and they found a flashlight in the Land Rover that appeared waterproof. “What about telling Nairobi?”
Bob suggested a quick call on the phone, but Pero had an idea and quickly opened the Land Rover’s hood and connected the alligator clips to the battery and powered up the RT set. “This is Auxiliary Z4WD broadcasting in the blind. Come in Nairobi.”
“We’re here. Go ahead.” Pero heard a groggy Tone responding, and Wolfie as well.
“Okay, we’ve left the campsite; we’re proceeding to the airstrip to meet the plane coming to pick us up. No sign of the person we were looking for. We’ll have to wait and see if he’s lost and turns up somewhere. Over.” He heard the disappointment from everyone listening and signed off without any further discussion. Then he asked Bob for the satellite phone and dialed Lewis. “Baltazar here, need to speak to Lewis.”
“Standby.” Moments later: “Lewis here, go ahead.”
“Please call Interconti and have them carefully contact Tone Bowman and also Wolfgang in Loiyangalani and tell them I told them a lie. We are not returning to Nairobi yet. Instructions: One, call Sheryl at Mara Airways and have her dispatch our Cessna after it lands, or if it has already landed, as if we ordered its return to the airstrip. Once airborne, have them divert to any airstrip in Kenya and await next command. Two, investigate Zanzi-Agroforestry if we do not return. All roads lead to them; no other location for missing Ube is possible. Three, we are going to cross a small lake, enter the compound, and rescue Ube if we can and then, as you said, run like hell. Please wait . . .”
“Standing by.”
“Bob, there’s a map in the glove compartment. Haul it out, will you, and let’s see if there’s an alternative airstrip we can use in daylight.” Bob quickly pulled it out and folded it to the relevant section. Pero spotted it almost immediately. “Tabora, do you copy, Lewis?” Pero heard two clicks, meaning affirmative. “Good. Tabora has an airstrip—actually, an airport. Have the Cessna also file a flight plan for Tabora but only once they are out of Wilson radio range. We’ll meet them in Tabora tomorrow afternoon. Copy?”
Two clicks and then: “Be careful, Pero. Get him, get out.”
Lewis is being unusually emotional, Pero thought as he disconnected. He checked the battery level on the phone, and it showed more than half full. He turned it fully off, and Bob put it in the plastic bag and sealed it, twice, with rubber bands.
Mbuno, Bob, and Pero discussed the plan that Pero ha
d laid out. Pero knew he was being paranoid about someone tracing the plane or listening in on the RT transmission, but, as he said to Bob, “Look, better be safe than sorry, right?” Bob agreed. Pero explained the Tabora idea. “If we get Ube back, we return here, drive the Land Rover away from the lake, and pick our way east. The rail line is a few miles south of here, but too near the mill. But it loops north after a while”—he pointed at the map—“and we should run into it if we head due east through the forest.” His finger traced the route of escape, perhaps eight or ten miles until the train tracks. “Then we drive the railroad ties until we come to the main road, drive to Tabor, get on our plane, all in daylight. I figure by the time we cross the lake and then cross back, the sun will start to come up so we won’t need headlights, and the forest up there”—he pointed back up the hillside—“will hide an army, let alone one forest-green Land Rover.”
Mbuno agreed it was a plan. Bob saw nothing to contradict or suggest so he just nodded, checking the satellite phone in the plastic bag, carefully wrapping it one more time, tightly, with waterproof wound dressing tape from his medical bag. Once satisfied, he made sure his two companions saw where he put it, in case they needed to retrieve it—inside a money belt beneath his shirt. Mbuno added, “Take off your shoes and leave them here. People here do not have shoes. We must be like them.”
After they put their shoes in the Land Rover, the three men walked over to the boulder standing next to the two-inch-thick cable. Mbuno whispered, “No talk, ever.” The elephant were still bathing, splashing water, the totos rolling in the shallows. Mbuno started making a noise, what seemed to Bob to be burping. The sound became more like a stomach-rumble belch. Two of the elephants turned to stare Mbuno down. Mbuno increased the belching rumble, and the elephant flapped their ears, and in the moonlight, Pero was certain he saw them quizzically cock their heads. Mbuno waded into the water, motioning for Bob and Pero to stay behind him. Mbuno grabbed hold of the cable, signaling the other two to do the same, and lowered himself into the water, deeper and deeper until only his head was visible. The elephant stopped paying any attention to them.