by Jack Ford
It had been a long trip, with the heat hitting them like they’d just opened a stove door. The twenty-mile taxi ride from the airport hadn’t helped either. The driver hadn’t seemed as if he’d known what he was doing; swerving precariously and speeding, weaving along the city’s half-built tarmac roads like he was the emergency services.
The city was a mass of contrasts; high-rise luxury apartment blocks and offices stood centrally, surrounded by eroded housing with bad sanitation, and crumbling roadways. Kinshasa was home to more than six million people. Homeless young children hid amongst the rubble of derelict buildings and the displaced sat alongside the roads as the disorder of the traffic mirrored so many people’s lives, and poverty roamed the streets like a predatory beast.
And as Cooper stood contemplating all this in the hotel lobby, dressed inconspicuously in casual blue jeans and t-shirt, he stared at Rosedale, dressed in a gaudy canary yellow suit.
‘Do you have to wear that?’ It was Rosedale who spoke.
‘Me?’ Cooper looked at him incredulously. Said nothing else. Took a drink from his water bottle to help the two pills he had under his tongue to go down easier, and walked across to Maddie.
‘You okay?’
‘Yeah, I’m cool, Tom. Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘You just seem quiet. How does it feel to be back?’
‘I’m fine and it feels fine.’
‘You don’t have to pretend.’
Snapping, Maddie said, ‘Well you’d be the expert on that wouldn’t you? It’s a bit late to start worrying about me now… God, where did that come from? Sorry. I’m just tired. Listen, why don’t we go straight to the address we’ve got once Tweety Pie over there finishes checking in.’
Cooper grinned. ‘I know, right. But as long as I’ve known Rosedale, he’s dressed like that. But don’t ever be fooled by him, when he wants to be he’s one of the most dangerous…’
‘Okay, guys, you want the good news or the bad?’ Rosedale’s voice boomed across the lobby, interrupting the rest of Cooper’s sentence. Then Maddie, with zero tolerance of Rosedale, sighed.
‘Just tell us already.’
‘Well the bad news is the booking’s been messed up and they’ve only got one room. But the good news is, it means you, little lady, will be sharing a bed with me, and maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll show you what a real Texan cowboy can do with his lasso.’
22
‘If you go left down the Avenue du Kasai for about three miles, we should be close to where we want to be.’ Absentmindedly, Maddie directed Rosedale as they drove the battered white Toyota they’d been overcharged to hire.
The place looked exactly the same as it had been when she’d visited years ago. And the tight knot in her stomach told her what she’d refused to think… Maybe she shouldn’t have come. Maybe she just wouldn’t ever be ready to come back here. A place where anarchy and the chase for survival was part of the daily life. And the overwhelming pain in the street children’s eyes rushed out of them like an unexpected snow storm. But it was a place, a country which was part of her soul and one she’d once loved. Sighing, as an overwhelming sense of sadness descended on her, she closed her eyes.
In the backseat of the SUV, Cooper was having similar thoughts. Doubting the wisdom of coming. The last time he’d been here, he’d been looking for Ellie, after watching a news report talking about a group of long-forgotten foreign hostages who’d originally been kidnapped in Somalia, but who had been found enslaved by the M23 movement – a Congolese revolutionary army, based mainly in the eastern areas of the Democratic Republic of Congo and operating on the whole in the province of North Kivu. A violent, militia rebel force, known for their use of torture and rape as weapons of war, with forced recruitment of both men and boys.
Of course the search for Ellie had been futile. But it was probably the first time he’d prayed for her to be dead. The idea that somewhere, somehow, she was caught up in the tragic legacy of the relentless scrabble and pursuit of violence and power, along with the merciless use of sexual torture, was beyond contemplation.
Rosedale broke his reverie. ‘Down here?’ he asked, but turned left anyhow as the road they were driving on turned into a risky obstacle course of potholes. Maddie nodded but didn’t say anything. Turned round to look at Cooper. ‘Okay?’
He stared out of the window. ‘It’s not great, is it?’
Giving a half smile, Maddie replied with a hint of wistfulness. ‘No. Sadly, this country seems to have just been forgotten by the rest of the world. The DRC has got so much potential, and okay I know I’m biased, but I just don’t get why the US isn’t doing more work in partnership with this government. President Woods seems to be at a hiatus over Africa. His foreign policy has just been focused in the Middle East. There’s a lot of catch up to do in sub-Saharan Africa in general. And when I think about it, every time Woods speaks about Africa, this country hardly gets a mention. The man’s a real disappointment.’
Cooper bristled. He couldn’t help it. And he had to work hard to ignore Rosedale’s quick, sly, sideward glance. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘Complicated! Tom, look around you. There’s nothing complicated about homeless, starving children. On this journey alone, how many kids have we seen? Twenty? Thirty? The Post and New York Times need to come and spend a week here. This should be splashed across the front pages. And it’s not just because my daddy’s side of the family come from here. It makes me so mad that Woods gave us all the one world, one people speech, talking about helping to make strong nations, because that’s what we want. No-one’s looking for pity, and a Band-Aid record with a group of over privileged westerners looking to come to help the underprivileged is not going to help. This isn’t about poverty porn. This is about helping to develop and grow a strong and sustainable economic market and future for the next generation. It’s always the same thing, everyone thinking the next president is going to be better than the last. They said Woods was going to be something special, Kennedy-esqe. But it’s bull, he clearly doesn’t care.’
Cooper mumbled quietly. Shifted in his seat. ‘I’m sure he does, Maddie, but like I say, it’s complicated. I guess to understand the place you have to understand the history. The colonialism, the dictatorial rule, the plundering of the country’s wealth by the government and other nations, and of course the wars which left the people scarred and traumatized. And now there’s a complete lack of state rule, with militia and rebel forces running amok. It’s a mess, and there aren’t any simple solutions.’
Maddie stared at Cooper. Her face reddening, she spoke in a high pitch tone, which always sent Cooper crazy. ‘Don’t. Don’t you dare tell me about the country I spent a lot of my childhood in, Tom. The place my daddy was born in and eventually had to leave. I understand it all too well. This place is in me. And it breaks my heart to see it how it is, to see those children back there without any hope. And I know only too well why it is how it is. So I don’t need you to give me facts out of a history book, when what I know, and what my family have been through is real.’
Cooper looked at her evenly. ‘Have you finished now? You’re getting yourself upset.’
‘Don’t patronize me.’
‘Me? Patronize you?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Cooper shrugged. ‘Nothing. Forget it. We’re all tired.’
‘You can be so arrogant at times, Tom. That’s one of the things that always annoyed me about you. Why did I think it’d be any different now we’re not together?’
It was an audible groan from Cooper. ‘Maddie, please.’
To which Rosedale whistled. Grinned. Turned his head to wink at Maddie. ‘You are some kind of woman, Miss Maddison. I think I’m getting to like you. What do they say? Never mix politics with affairs of the heart. But you, honey, you are just throwing that goddamn rule book away. Lord only knows I can feel this is going to be one helluva trip.’
The trio fell silent and Cooper glanced round as Roseda
le continued driving at speed downtown. He felt ridiculous, being so defensive over Woods.
What was it with him? He could see exactly what Maddie was saying. He could see it all. He’d travelled extensively throughout the place. And even watching out of the window, as he was now, it was there. Staring at him in the face. All there, yet he could never just sit back and let anyone say anything about Woods or his politics. And it pissed him off.
Hell, it wasn’t as if he even agreed with all of Woods’s policies either. There’d been many a time he and Jackson had had heated, midnight discussions with John about home and international issues. Often ending with John or Cooper knocking off a couple of plates from the table. But when it came to anyone else saying something, relative or otherwise, he was ready to endorse every goddamn one of John’s decisions.
It was another reason for him to keep people at a distance. The less people knew he had any sort of relationship with Jackson, never mind Woods, the better. Even Maddie.
Sometimes he felt bad for not telling her, but even after she had his child, he’d never mentioned he knew Jackson, and neither had anyone else. He guessed Maddie knew better than to ask where he was going. She’d just come to accept that was him. That was how it was. So it’d been easy to go and visit Jackson and John when he wanted to. And so far it’d been fine to take Cora – well it had been, until she’d drawn the picture of John. He guessed he needed to rethink it all, especially as Cora’s favorite pastime now was to convey in great detail the events of her day and tell everyone about her secrets.
And as for Granger, he’d been friends with John and Beau, growing up together in Hannibal, Missouri, so of course Granger knew of his connection with Woods, as did Rosedale. The other person who’d known, apart from Levi and Dorothy Walker, who he’d confided in a long time ago, was Ellie. He’d told her everything. Everything. There wasn’t anything she hadn’t known about him. But then, Ellie had been perfect… was perfect.
So there it was. Beau, Granger, Levi, Dorothy and Rosedale. Five people who knew some or all of his business. Five people all keeping a secret from Maddie. Secrets and lies. Always secrets and lies.
‘What the…’ Rosedale began to speak but trailed off, as an erratically driven minibus, for no apparent reason, slammed on its brakes, causing him to do the same.
A stream of street vendors wandered between the lines of cars carrying everything from household objects to an array of pungent smelling foods, adding to the already stifling air. Cooper leant across from the back to try to get a better view. ‘Can you see what’s happening?’
‘No, but it looks like this line goes down quite a way.’
For the next ten minutes, sweating and stifling, they sat alongside one of the many markets in the heart of Kinshasa. It teemed with energy as sellers sold everything from live chickens to live tortoises piled high, one on top of the other, and delicacies of grasshoppers and goats heads swapped hands.
‘Toilet seat?’ A young boy no more than eight, covered in dust, nails full of grime, banged with enthusiasm on the window, waving a seventies-style aquamarine toilet seat.
Rosedale rolled down the window, letting in the heat. ‘Hell, why not. It probably beats the one back at the hotel… Thank you.’
Having given the boy ten times the asking price, which equated to the entire contents of his wallet, Rosedale threw the toilet seat into the back. Watched a throng of people casually walk into the road as if on some kind of procession. Lit a cigar. ‘Maybe it’s best to ditch the car here. Walk the rest of the way and stretch these little ol’ legs of mine.’
Maddie glanced about. There were people coming in every direction. But looking at it now there was no way of even turning the car around. They were totally blocked in by a human wall. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Sounds like a good idea. It’s not far from here. We can cut through the alleyways.’
Cooper grinned. ‘And the good thing is, Rosedale, if we do get split up, there’s no missing you in that suit.’
And with the cigar hanging out of the corner of his mouth, and the smoke in his eyes, Rosedale squinted. Rubbed his hands eagerly. ‘Well let’s go then, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s go and see if we can find the elusive Mr. Mutombo.’
23
‘They’re asking for comments on what the VP supposedly said in private about the new Iran deal. It’s all over the dailies, they even did a call in on C-span this morning. How do you want us to shut it down? We can do a press briefing.’
John Woods sat back in the soft black seats of Cadillac 1, being driven to the latest in what seemed to be a never ending circuit of fundraising dinners. The last couple of days had been difficult and the last thing he needed was his vice president speaking and then being taken out of context by the Washington muckrakers. ‘No, send out a tweet, something along the lines of the White House does not comment on private conversations between individuals. What else? Any updates on the Nashville shooting?’
Woods’s senior advisor, Mattie Brown, ginger haired and on the unhealthy side of slim, sat opposite the president and Teddy Adleman. ‘We’re keeping in constant contact with the hospital. The three students who were critical last night, well I’m afraid it’s not looking good, sir.’
‘Jesus.’
‘You’re scheduled to fly out to see the families at thirteen hundred hours tomorrow, but I think we could manage to create an earlier window by changing the morning visit from the North American Baptist Women’s Union, though we probably won’t be able to reschedule them for another three months.’
‘Teddy what d’ya think?’
Adleman adjusted the gold plated cufflink on his somewhat over-starched white shirt and noticed a stain on his blue suit. Tried to wipe it off. Failed. Then tried to ignore the tight, burning sensation on his scalp from where he’d left the hair relaxer on too long the night before. Eventually he spoke. ‘I think it’d be worth keeping the meeting with the NABWU. They’re big advocates for gun control, and there’s a lot of support for this administration. It’s important to keep the women’s vote. Their influence amongst their families and communities is pretty powerful. You don’t want them to be pissed with you.’
Woods nodded. ‘Hell hath no fury like a Baptist Women’s Union scorned.’
‘Unless of course it’s a drop in the polls,’ said Mattie.
The men sat in silence for a moment until the president spoke. ‘Teddy, have we been able to contact Senator Walmsley?’
‘No, sir. I think he’s running scared. He’s not returning any calls, but there’s a possibility he might be at the fundraising dinner.’
John stared at his senior advisor. Who the hell did Walmsley think he was? The man was an A-class jerk. And if all things were equal, knocking a bit of sense into him in a downtown bar would be the most gratifying option to sort this out. As it stood, he was going to have to act the circus dog and roll over and hope and beg and plead with the senator to reconsider his support on the reforms.
Walmsley was playing games. Games with the welfare of the American people while sitting on his fat ass up at the Hill where the air of dysfunction and paralysis was at an all-time high. America was losing faith, and the only comfort he had was that in a recent poll, Congress came out lower than he did in the approval ratings.
He got that the pro-gun groups were putting pressure on certain senators, but they had to grow some. Think about others, like he had to. These gun control reforms weren’t about him. Hell yes, he had an ego like any other red blooded male, but contrary to what the double page spread in the Wall Street Journal last week had reported, his mission was not to be put on the presidential map because of his own narcissism.
The truth was a cliché. One which no-one seemed to believe, and which echoed a beauty pageant finalist. But he’d worked hard. Been ambitious. Been determined, all to make a difference. And God, how simple did that sound? Yet if any word should have a semantic shift, it was that one. Simple. Because simple seemed nothing short of goddamn impossible.
/> 24
‘Well I think we’ve found our address, but look…’ Rosedale pointed at a small, single storey concrete house. A group of around fifty people stood jeering. Shouting and heckling as a man, dressed in a gray tattered t-shirt, held a semi-filled glass bottle with a soaking, hanging rag wrapped round it.
Maddie ran forward. Sprinted down the partly laid tarmac road, followed by Cooper, with Rosedale fractionally in front. Recognizing the bottle for what it was. A crude incendiary bomb. She shouted, ‘He’s going to light it! Quick!’
‘Move…! Move!’ Cooper pushed through the crowd, barging the congregated group out of the way to get to the front. He could see Rosedale and Maddie doing the same, but he was nearer, almost within touching distance of the man.
He heard Maddie shout. ‘Drop it! Now!’
Instruction ignored.
The home-made petrol bomb was lit, aimed and thrown. Perfect shot. It shattered on impact and engulfed the front door along with the wooden roof in a fireball of flames. A loud cacophony of applause rose up along with the heat of the fire and the fervour of the people. Cooper grabbed one of the perpetrators, disarmed him and pulled him quickly down. He stopped the man from reaching for yet another makeshift firebomb, as the now-angry crowd began to close in.
From the corner of his eye Cooper could see Rosedale taking on three other men with ease, they being no match for the skilful, highly trained, CIA veteran. And Maddie, helping to hold off the rest of the crowd – a mix of women, men and a scattering of young children – although vocal, seemed hesitant to fully take them on.
Cooper stared at the crowd… Wired.
‘Can someone tell me what the hell is going on…? Ce qui se passe?’
A sinewy, dark skinned man stepped forward, the whites of his eyes distinctly yellow with vessels of red marbling through them. Pulled down the sleeve of his pinstripe blue suit monogrammed in gold with the letters, NRC. He looked first at Rosedale, a hint of ridicule in his eyes, then at Maddie and finally Cooper, who he directed his speech towards.