Blood Ransom

by Lisa Harris

  Ten minutes later, they exited the plane. Nick folded his arms across his chest, irritated. Time was passing. If something had happened, and Chad and Natalie were still out there on the river somewhere, he couldn’t even call to let them know to be careful.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Not that he knew for sure what they’d hoped to find. It wasn’t as if he could have stashed two Americans beneath the floorboards.

  “We’re going to need you to come with us.”

  The knot in Nick’s stomach tightened. “I’m not sure that’s possible—”

  “Oh, it’s very possible. A reward has been issued to bring them in, and you’re going to help us.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 3:06 P.M.

  SOMEWHERE ALONG THE CONGO RIVER

  Chad looked at his watch, surprised at how much time had passed. While Joseph dozed behind them in the afternoon sun, he had tried not to stare at Natalie as she answered his questions about her life in Africa and shared snippets about nights preparing dinner by candlelight and listening to the BBC over a shortwave radio.

  Water lapped against the sides of the boat, rocking it gently. The sky had cleared, alleviating any chances of a storm. The last thing he’d expected during his six-month stint in the RD—besides his current position of floating down the Congo River—was meeting someone who made him want to stick around and find out more about her.

  Chad cocked his head and caught her gaze. “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay.” She laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I’ve never had a day quite so…I don’t know.” Natalie took off her sandals and stretched out her toes. “Scary doesn’t seem quite strong enough an adjective.”

  “Terrifying?”

  “You’re getting closer.”

  “At least you’re smiling.” Now it was his turn to chuckle. “Plus, we’re alive, and we have the photos.”

  “So far, though I’m beginning to wonder if we’ll ever make it to the capital at this pace.” She looked up at him again. “What if we were wrong, Chad? What if the incident on the boat was some isolated attack that doesn’t have anything to do with the photos? You know the statistics as well as I do. Terrorist attacks against foreigners are rising. There are dozens of unidentified militants and rebels on the loose, magnified even greater by the upcoming election.”

  Part of him longed to believe her theory that they had simply blown the entire situation out of proportion. She was searching for the same alternate answers he was. Trying to find that one inkling of truth in a situation that didn’t make sense. One excuse to abandon the precarious quest they’d begun was all he needed.

  “I suppose there is that off chance that all this is nothing more than a coincidence. A couple of misdirected thugs who happen to have a deep-seated vendetta against foreigners.”

  He wanted to accept her reasoning, but from the look on her face, they both knew it wasn’t true. Someone was determined to make sure no one else saw those photos.

  “I knew there were risks to living here, but I guess I thought I was immune.” She pulled her legs up against her chest, facing him. “These past couple days have changed everything. It didn’t even matter that I’m here to try to help.”

  He read the fear and vulnerability in her expression. It hadn’t taken much to shatter any remaining traces of safety. “It’s easy to think that because we’re trying to do this noble act for mankind, we have some sort of shield surrounding us.”

  “Which means there is no assurance that something like that won’t happen again.” She pressed her lips together and blinked back tears.

  “Chances are it won’t.”

  “Maybe not, but what about Joseph’s family? When is someone going to put a stop to their horror?” This time she didn’t try to stop the flow of tears from streaming down her face as her voice continued to rise. “After hundreds of more villagers are ripped from their homes, their women raped, children left starving, and their dead rotting beneath the African sun? Or maybe when another civil war erupts and thousands are butchered in the bloody coup? Do you think the rest of the world will take notice then?”

  “I don’t know, Natalie.”

  She wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands and stared out across the churning river. A crocodile splashed into the water, its head bobbing along the surface as it swam away from them. “I don’t know either.” She followed the crocodile’s trail through the water, then turned back to Chad. “We talked yesterday about coming here to make a difference, but I’m starting to wonder if I can do this anymore. It’s like when you hear about some horrid tragedy and you can’t fully grasp the reality of what has happened. This time, though, I saw the results with my own eyes, and I still can’t comprehend what happened.”

  “I’m struggling with the same questions.”

  She glanced up at him and caught his gaze. “Then tell me, where is God now?”

  Chad struggled for answers—answers to the very same questions he was grappling with. “All I know is that man’s greed and wickedness can’t diminish God’s goodness or His plan for us. His death ransomed us along with every tribe and people group. That’s the reality I have to hold on to right now.”

  She grabbed a handful of tissues from her bag and blew her nose. “I know my faith falls short in all of this, but then I think about how one of us—or maybe all three of us—might not make it out of here alive. Joseph’s family is suffering right now; his father might be dead…”

  “It’s not a lack of faith, Natalie. And it’s okay to be scared.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  “Try and find some answers.” He knew from experience that action was one of the best strategies against fear. And at the moment, besides some fervent praying, it was the only answer he had.

  “How?”

  “Tell me about Patrick.”

  Natalie wadded her tissues in her hand and took in a deep breath. “I think I told you that he used to be the former head of security to the president. He now leads a specialized task force that is apparently involved in investigating rumors of the Ghost Soldiers.”

  “Could he be involved with the opposition?”

  Her eyes widened. “I suppose. If Okella or someone in his party were willing to pay more, I’d say Patrick could be a willing candidate.”

  “What about his fiancée?”

  “Rachel and I used to work together in Kasili, where we became good friends. About six months ago, Patrick helped her get a job with the minister of health in the capital, which is why I want to talk to her first. She has access to information, including a compilation of demographic research for the country that might help us narrow down where Joseph’s family is.”

  “And you trust her not to tell Patrick?”

  “I think any information she might have is worth any risk.”

  Chad paused, wondering if they were even on the right track. Without telephone access, finding out who was behind this wasn’t going to be easy. “Okay, what about Stephen?”

  “For starters, he’s not nearly as compulsive as Patrick. He’s organized, educated, of course, and seems to be well respected in the community.”

  “What about his weaknesses?”

  “Weaknesses.” Natalie shook her head. “It’s hard to say. Stephen tends to try to pacify everyone. Even with the photos, he acted as if he didn’t want to get involved.”

  Chad clasped his hands together, mulling over her answers. “I don’t know. Maybe that figures in somehow. Let’s look at another angle, then, not related to the election. Have you ever noticed any irregularities in the books, or skimming of funds?”

  “Stephen runs a very tight ship and has always struck me as honest, though indecisive.” She shrugged, wincing at the movement. “I’m sorry I don’t have more answers.”

  He eyed her dressed wound. “Has the pain eased any?”

  “For the most part, and I think the bleeding’s stopped
.”

  He leaned forward to push back a strand of her hair that had fallen out of its clip. “You’re getting a sunburn.”

  Her smile, reflecting across her brown eyes, caused his heart to lurch. She was close enough that he could see the dark color that encircled her irises. He brushed his thumb across a sprinkling of freckles on her cheek and wiped away a stray tear. He wasn’t sure exactly when he’d first realized it, but Natalie was exactly the kind of woman he’d spent his life looking for. And all he could manage to think about at the moment was how badly he wanted to kiss her.

  “Natalie, I…” He stopped midsentence and leaned back. What was he supposed to tell her? That he wanted to kiss her? That he’d like to be sitting together with her at his favorite restaurant back in Portland right now discussing their dreams for the future and not racing toward the capital on some sort of James Bond-like mission?

  “You okay?” she asked.

  He dropped his gaze to the frothy water lapping against the side of the pirogue and nodded. Maybe when all of this was over…

  He looked up at her again, wishing she wasn’t quite so beautiful and her lips not quite so kissable. “Do you happen to have any sunscreen in that bag of yours?”

  “I think so.” Her brow lowered. “I should have thought about it hours ago.”

  She dug around for a minute, then pulled out a small tube. Before he could stop her, she’d dabbed some on his nose.

  “Hey!” He caught her wrist and laughed.

  “I’m not the only one turning into a lobster.” She continued spreading it across his nose and cheeks while he tried to keep his thoughts in line. “Now could you get the back of my neck?”

  He complied and spread the sunscreen across her neck and shoulders. Sometimes life could be so unfair.

  She dug in her bag again and pulled out a package of licorice.

  “Hey, forget the sunscreen.” He snatched the candy from her hand and held it up above his head.

  “Now you wait just a minute. I told you I have a sweet tooth.”

  He quirked a brow. “And I thought your stash was for emergencies only?”

  She shot him an exasperated look. “This is an emergency. And any woman who’s been chased then left to fend for her life on a perilous escape down the Congo River at the very least deserves a gallon or two of double-fudge ice cream.”

  “Possibly.”

  She grasped for the candy and missed. “Unfortunately, in this situation, one small package of licorice will have to do.”

  “Touché.” He tossed the candy her direction, but he wasn’t through yet. “Will half a package do?”

  She glanced behind her at Joseph, who was still sleeping, then ripped open the package. “How about a third?”

  Chad took his share with a grin before gazing across the churning waters of the river. The thick tangle of jungle had faded into green, rolling hills as they approached the chaotic harbor now framing the bottom of the capital’s skyline. In the distance, blocks of apartment buildings rose alongside governmental buildings and a couple of hotels built for the occasional tourists and businessmen.

  Ahead of them, a ferry lowered its plank along the shore, allowing laborers to drop heavy bags of rice onto the dock below. Hordes of passengers charged up the loading dock past several wheelchair-bound polio victims struggling to make a living selling goods along the river.

  Chad turned away from the confusion and looked further abroad. All they needed now was a taxi into the city…and a miracle.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 5:26 P.M.

  OUTSIDE BOGAMA HARBOR

  Natalie grasped the edge of the seat with her fingertips as the taxi driver raced down the two-lane dirt road heading away from the harbor, making her wonder if it had been worth waiting over an hour for the ride. Not like they had any options. The city’s taxis were the only transportation available between the harbor and the capital.

  The driver swerved to avoid a herd of cows on the edge of the road. Natalie’s shoulder smashed against the window, shooting pain down her arm. Obviously, the brand-new cabs with their new coat of paint and drivers wearing ties and name badges didn’t guarantee safe passage. She glanced out at the shoreline, now tinged orange from the setting sun. The silhouettes of a dozen pirogues skimmed across the golden waters alongside an overcrowded barge.

  The view vanished behind the crest of a hill, leaving instead the dozens of sprawling slum rows before them. Women wearing tattered dresses and carrying loads of wood on their heads lined the edge of the dusty road. Half of them had infants tied to their back. For the thousands of Dhambizans living here, none of the makeshift shacks had running water or electricity. Sanitation facilities were inadequate, and access to health care was virtually unobtainable. The goal for living here simply meant survival.

  She tried turning on her cell to call Stephen, then groaned at the dead battery. Great. Finding a taxi at the busy harbor might have been difficult, but communication had become a nightmare. She dropped the phone back into her bag. Maybe it was a good thing she couldn’t reach him after all. If Stephen was involved, it was better he didn’t know where she was. Her gut feeling, though, told her he had nothing to do with the shooting on the barge. Or, for that matter, the Ghost Soldiers.

  Chad snapped his phone shut, yanking her away from her thoughts.

  “No luck?” she asked.

  He shoved his cell into his pocket and shrugged. “Dead battery.”

  “Me too. What about the driver’s phone?” Natalie asked.

  “All my numbers are on my phone.”

  Natalie groaned again at the realization. So were hers. And there was no calling information in Bogama.

  Joseph tapped Innocent, their driver, on the shoulder and spoke a few words. Innocent pulled over, flipped on the overhead light, then picked up his cell phone as Joseph climbed out to use the restroom.

  Natalie lay her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes to block out light from the bare bulb overhead. The chatter of the driver intensified her pounding head. All she wanted was a decent place to sleep for the next eight hours. Bogama boasted a couple of adequate hotels, but she’d prefer a mat on Rachel’s apartment floor. Not only was staying with someone she knew more appealing than a hotel room, but if Rachel could give them answers, they’d be that much closer to locating Joseph’s family.

  The chattering in the front seat increased. Chad squeezed her hand.

  “Ouch.” She pulled her hand away and opened her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head, motioning for her to be quiet. “We’ve got a problem. Do you have a piece of paper?”

  Natalie grabbed the backpack off the floor and rummaged through the front pocket where she remembered putting a pad of sticky notes and a couple of pens. She found both at the bottom. At least no one could accuse her of being unprepared.

  Chad grabbed the pen from her and started scribbling on the paper. Driver arguing over price of reward for two Americans. Taking us to a military compound.

  Natalie’s mouth went dry. She blinked her eyes and looked up at him. “You’re kidding—”

  Chad held his finger to his mouth. She clenched her jaw shut as slivers of panic sliced through her. She had to relax. Panicking wouldn’t help. She glanced out the open door. They could run now, but then what? They were still miles from the city. They needed a vehicle to get to safety. But where in the world could they get one?

  Joseph slid back into the car, slamming the door shut behind him. Innocent flipped the light off, gunned the accelerator, and merged into the light traffic.

  Natalie tried to think. She’d been certain that she’d exaggerated any ideas of a conspiracy theory. Apparently that assumption was wrong. And radioing the police, military, and taxi drivers to be on the lookout for two Americans would be fairly simple in a city where less than one percent of the population was foreigners.

  Chad brushed against her arm. “How much time will it take to get
there?”

  The only military base she knew of lay in the northern outskirts of the city. “Fifteen minutes. Twenty, tops.”

  Chad leaned over and whispered to Joseph, who hesitated, then tapped the driver’s shoulder again. This time the man was obviously irritated. He shouted something in Dha, but pulled over. Joseph scurried halfway up the short embankment that ran along the side of the road.

  Moving quickly, Chad pressed against the front seat, then wrapped his right arm around the driver’s neck. Innocent flung his arms toward Chad’s face, hollered, then stopped in mid-sentence. His cell phone clattered against the console. Three seconds later, he slumped against the back of the seat.

  “Chad!” Natalie sucked in a breath.

  Chad released pressure, but kept his arm around the man’s neck. “I promise you, this is the safest way to take someone out if it’s done right, and considering our circumstances, I think we’re pretty much out of options.”

  Her mind spun with the implications of what he’d just done. They already had the entire RD army after them. Now if he’d killed the man…

  “And you know how to do it safely?”

  “It’s a martial-arts move.” Chad rushed around to the driver’s door and swung it open.

  Natalie leaned across the seat to check the driver’s pulse. At least he was still alive. “You told me you dabbled in martial arts.”

  “I guess I forgot to mention that I have a black belt in karate.” Chad undid the man’s seat belt.

  “You said ‘dabbled.’ I dabble with painting and playing the piano in my spare time, and you…you just knocked a man out.”

  She needed to stop babbling, but all she could see at the moment was an unconscious man. She swallowed hard. “How much time till he wakes up?”

  “Anywhere from a few seconds to a couple minutes. There’s no way to know, but we’ve got to get him out of here.” Chad hollered at Joseph to help him.

  Natalie jumped out of the cab. “We can’t just leave him—”