by Anna del Mar
The exchanged confirmed a lot of the intelligence Rem and Matthias had gathered over the last two years. Rebels, poachers, and criminals traveled via private planes under the sponsorship of a corruptive and corrupted system. Poaching around the world was an endemic disease, supported by the governing classes, who benefited from it.
But the best clue I had so far as to the newcomer’s identity, came from Kumbuyo himself. Someone as brutal and autocratic as Kumbuyo would only submit to the very top of his leadership. Holy shit. This “commander” had to be none other than Lamba himself. Here. In Tanzania!
Lamba’s mirrored gaze shifted my way briefly, before it returned to Kumbuyo. “I’m assuming this is her?”
Kumbuyo’s lips thinned. “Yes.”
Lamba motioned and one of his men marched over to me and began to uncoil the chain around my neck. “Are you trying to kill her?”
“The woman is dangerous,” Kumbuyo said. “She’s best left in restraints.”
“She doesn’t look so dangerous to me right now.” Lamba leaned over me and patted my cheek like a kindly grandfather. “In fact, she looks quite helpless at the moment. Are you awake?”
I moaned and slurred for his benefit. He must’ve found my act convincing, because he turned from me. The bodyguard finished unraveling the chain around my neck before he returned to his post flanking the door. I kept my gaze averted but my ears open.
“This is your best work yet.” Lamba reached out and squeezed Kumbuyo’s shoulder. “I knew on the day I recruited you from your village, you were a promising one. The way you hacked down your own father was…impressive. You ought to be congratulated in this new achievement. Infiltrating the station was an excellent idea and setting the orphanage on fire as a distraction was genius.”
So, the fire had been a part of Kumbuyo’s plan.
“You have succeeded beyond my wildest expectation,” Lamba said, “and for that you should have a fair reward.”
Kumbuyo actually smiled. “In dollars?”
“In dollars, my friend, in millions of dollars, but…” he lifted a fat finger in the air, “those dollars must be procured before they’re distributed.”
Kumbuyo’s smile faltered. “Procured?”
“Yes, son, procured, which is why I need her alive.”
“I…apologies commander, but I don’t follow.”
“I have great plans for her,” Lamba said, “which is why I’ve traveled here personally. The time for change has come. Tomorrow, right here, on this spot, there will be an auction.”
Kumbuyo’s forehead crumpled. “How come I know nothing of this?”
“Secrecy is at the heart of success,” Lamba explained in his silky voice. “I’ve invited some of our acquaintances to take a look at the merchandise. As soon as I heard the news you had the woman, I activated our contacts with Boko Haram, Al-Qaida, and ISIS. News came back fast: They all want her, a westerner, an American, a marine, and a conservation celebrity. Can you think of a better bargaining chip?”
Kumbuyo knuckled his chin. “You want to sell her to the highest bidder?”
“Precisely,” Lamba said. “The auction should bring us a new, powerful ally and much needed capital, since the woman is likely to profit any one of these organizations greatly.”
“How?” Kumbuyo asked.
“You were always a curious one.” Lamba chortled. “Her most important contribution will be in the public relations realm. Who knows? They might try asking for ransom as well. Word is she comes from a wealthy family. Not that they are ever going to give her back. Oh, no. They’ll break her down. They’ll take great pleasure doing so. They’ll tweet, Facebook, Instagram, and Snapchat images of her as they do. And finally, one day, they’ll kill her for all the world to see in an unforgettable spectacle. They might behead her in front of a camera. Or perhaps they’ll put her in a cage and burn her alive, but only after her suffering has been broadcasted all over the world.”
It was a bleak prospect for me, which may explain why I was shivering inside, trying not to think of Mom and Dad having to suffer through a horrible ordeal like that, a nightmare that no family in the world should ever have to experience.
“I was aiming to do some of that myself,” Kumbuyo muttered sullenly.
“I understand your devotion to the cause.” Lamba flashed a condescending smile. “But let’s be honest. We do not have the resources and the public relations expertise and we need the money to bring about true change. She will bring top dollar.”
“But…” Kumbuyo grappled with the notion. “Is this place secure enough for a high-level meeting?”
“It will be, in a day or so, when the war party I sent to procure the ivory returns with its load.”
“You sent for the ivory?” Kumbuyo gawked. “The ivory from the woman’s segment?”
“Indeed.” Lamba’s double chin quivered with a firm nod. “All that ivory, collected in one place cannot be allowed to burn and go to waste. I had to act fast, before it was destroyed. The ivory is an important part of the plan, the glue that brings it all together.”
“How?”
“Questions, Kumbuyo always has questions.” Lamba chuckled quietly. “I’ve made a new agreement with the Chinese cartel. They’ll provide three military cargo planes flying under diplomatic privilege. In the inbound flight, the planes will carry troops, more specifically, our troops, currently awaiting pick up at a secret location in Central Africa. You do see the benefits of transporting the men across, don’t you?”
Kumbuyo nodded. I could see the benefits as well. A grueling march that would’ve taken months would be accomplished in a few hours, delivering chaos and war, and blowing to pieces any chances for lasting peace.
“This agreement gives everyone what they want,” Lamba said, his tone dreamy, his eyes gleaming with visions. “On the outbound flights, the cartel will have their ivory. We will have our troops and their money, lots of it, enough to buy ourselves a new army. On top of all of that, we’ll also have a brand new allegiance, cemented by the woman’s sale. And we’ll have the resources we need to bring the battle to East Africa.”
It was quite the grand plan. Complex, too, but Lamba seemed set on executing it. It was bad news all around. The unholy alliance that Rem feared the most was about to happen and my blood was somehow the ink that would seal the deal.
“With respect, commander,” Kumbuyo said. “I worry about security for the meeting.”
“Why?”
“Two words,” Kumbuyo said. “Matthias Hawking.”
“By your own designs, Hawking has been neutralized, isn’t that true?”
“But he’s not dead yet.”
“It’s only a matter of time,” Lamba said. “You paid the right people in the right places, haven’t you?”
“But I don’t have confirmation that the police have him yet.”
Jesus. Kumbuyo had bribed the police! Thank God that Rem and Zeke had sneaked Matthias out of the station. Otherwise, Matthias would be dead by now. Sorry, Rem and Zeke. Good call.
“Never mind Hawking,” Lamba said. “He’s a dead man walking. Instead, you need to get to work, because our friends will arrive soon and you’re responsible for providing security for the meeting. ”
Kumbuyo grunted something obscene under his breath. He didn’t sound exactly thrilled. A glare from Lamba was all it took to silence his protests and refocus him on the here and now. “What do you want to do with the woman?”
“Keep her secure until our customers get here,” Lamba said. “I don’t mind if you want to use her. I heard you have some personal grievances against her. So, in the spirit of fairness, you can do whatever you want with her as long as you leave her face untouched so that she’s easily recognizable to our audience. One other thing. Whatever else you do, make sure you don’t kill her. We need her alive.”
My stomach squeezed with dread. I wanted to throw up. Between Kumbuyo’s and Lamba’s plans, I was dead meat. A throat cleared at the door. I reco
gnized Kumbuyo’s second lurking at the threshold, the same man I’d named Pot Belly during my first night in Africa for reasons that still stood.
“A visitor has arrived,” he announced eyes shifting nervously from one man to the other. “She says she’s expected?”
She?
“Is it the cartel representative?” Lamba asked.
Pot Belly nodded. “It is, commander.”
“Mei Cheng?” Kumbuyo’s voice tilted with incredulity. “You invited her? Here?”
“She required a face-to-face meeting before she clears the planes for takeoff,” Lamba said. “The cartel is neither as naïve nor as trusting as the Americans. Mei’s cartel is our best customer, so she’ll get her meeting. And since she brings a down payment for the ivory load—in cash—we will not make our guest wait. So put on your shirt and join us, Kumbuyo.”
Hmm. For a bad day, this one was getting interesting.
Lamba lumbered out of the hut, followed by his bodyguards. Kumbuyo lingered behind, lips pressed, forehead furrowed in thought as he shoved his arms into his shirtsleeves and sauntered over to me.
“I’m glad you’ve been listening,” he said, buttoning his shirt. “I wanted you to know the details. Knowing is a different kind of suffering, but it’s suffering all the same. You think you’re so smart, pretending you’re out cold, working those ropes real soldier-like, as if you had a prayer of escaping me. So let’s make sure you don’t have any way to carry out your machinations.”
He bent over and unlocked the fetters from my ankles, but he kept my hands tied behind my back. With the fetters undone, he grabbed my arms and stood me up. My ribs ached. My legs wobbled. I dropped to the dirt. My knees hit the ground hard. I was weak. I hadn’t drunk or eaten anything in a while and the beating had taken its toll. But I had an even better reason to be on the ground.
I allowed myself to fall to one side, eyes on Kumbuyo, hands groping behind my back, fingers searching desperately until they made contact with the razor blade he’d dropped on the ground. I grasped the blade. It bit into my flesh with a sharp sting as I scooped it into my fist and held on tight.
In one brutal tug, Kumbuyo dragged the cot aside. A small, square door had been hidden behind it, built low into the concrete wall right against the dirt floor. Kumbuyo pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked what turned out to be a solid metal door with a thick vault-like profile and worse, the absolute darkness beyond it.
My fears reared up. No. He wasn’t going to put me in there. At first glance, the space was too small, better suited to hide money or weapons as opposed to human beings. But Kumbuyo grabbed my hair and, setting my skull on fire, dragged me over to what looked to me like my personal entrance to hell.
I dug my boots in the dirt. I kicked, I tried to fight him, but it was a wasted effort. He manhandled me without much trouble.
“No!” I braced my boots at either side of the narrow entrance and made my stand. “Not in there,” and then I uttered a desperate “please?”
“So this marine is afraid of the dark.” Kumbuyo flashed his teeth. “What is it that you Americans like to say? Good to know?”
He wrenched my legs together and shoved the lower half of my body into the hole. I tried to resist, but Kumbuyo cuffed me before he shoved me hard and I was all in. By the tenuous light filtering in, I spotted a small space excavated into the soil. It was no bigger than a dog crate and not taller than three or four feet high.
“After my meeting, I’ll come back for my fun.” Kumbuyo’s face blocked the narrow entrance. “I’ll cut you and then I’ll sew you up to teach you a lesson. Then I will take great pleasure in ripping you open, before you’re auctioned like a goat at the market.”
His chilling smirk was my final sight before the last of the tenuous light was gone. The door clunked in its formidable frame and I was helpless, trapped and alone with my worst terrors.
Matthias
The sun was about to set by the time I got within the reserve’s radio range. It’d been a long, bumpy ride as I sped on dirt back roads the entire way. I didn’t need the police to know that I was on the loose or where I was. I didn’t need Rem and Zeke on my tail either. I turned on the truck’s radio and scanned the airways, spying on my own rangers.
By now, Rem probably knew I’d ditched his men. They were top-of-the-line operators, but they weren’t better than me. Once I cut off the zip ties and got my hands free, the rest was easy. In a swift strike, I took the operators by surprise, kicked them out of the truck and left them within walking distance of a small tribal village like the kind, considerate guy I was.
The radio crackled in the designated emergency channel, but the communications came in blurred. I couldn’t make out a word they were saying. Lots of chatter, much more than the usual. Zeke’s typically even voice sounded frantic. I drove another three miles holding the radio to my ear, before I caught on. Every ranger in the reserve was deployed in a frenzied search for lioness A-23, a code name I myself had assigned. To Jade.
My stomach dropped in a freefall. Jade was gone. Missing. The details were sketchy and given in code over the airways, but I caught a reference to tracks and a possible last sighting on the opposite bank upriver. I didn’t know the specifics but I gathered that, in my absence, Kumbuyo had infiltrated the station and extracted Jade from the compound. Son of a bitch. I slammed my foot down on the accelerator and sped down the road, trailing a wake of red dust whirling under the midday sun.
I crossed the river twenty miles south of the station at the old ferry and only after having to fetch the old man who ran the rope and pulley system from his midday, alcoholic-induced nap. Holding my breath against the stink, I dragged him out of his hut, paid him double, then paid his grandsons some more for three pairs of extra hands to help get the Land Rover across faster.
While on the ferry, I pulled out the wanted flyer I carried in my pocket and showed the men Kumbuyo’s picture. Fear flashed in the men’s eyes. None of them admitted to seeing Kumbuyo. Typical. By the time I crossed the river and got to proper coordinates, the rangers were long gone, presumably in pursuit.
I climbed down from the truck and walked the riverbank. Upriver and across, I could spot a distant hint of Jade’s bungalow hidden among the bush. I’d had some of my best rangers patrolling the riverbank. I’d also had a ranger posted on Jade’s door. How the hell had Kumbuyo managed to infiltrate the reserve?
I clenched my fists. Goddamnit, this would’ve never happened if I’d been at the station. Jade could be dead by now. The mere thought made me gag. I swallowed a gulp of sour bile and forced myself to think rationally. If Kumbuyo had gone through the trouble of abducting Jade, it meant he wanted her alive. As long she was alive, I had a chance.
I crouched next to the footprints and the tire tracks my rangers had carefully preserved in an area marked in yellow crime tape. They were a good bunch. I would’ve been proud of them if I hadn’t been so consumed by the anguish churning in my gut. Kumbuyo could be torturing Jade right now. The fury. The helplessness. They threatened to rip my guts apart.
But I didn’t have time to dwell on my fears right now. I had to get to Jade. Kumbuyo could’ve taken her anywhere. The vastness and wildness of the area would make tracking him extraordinarily difficult, if not impossible. But I had an ace up my sleeve, a contingency plan that could help, if only I could get close enough. For now, I focused on the tire tracks. I needed to go where they led.
28
Jade
I couldn’t stand up in my underground cell. I couldn’t even sit up straight in the tight space. But I scooted around on my back, curled against the back wall and kicked the hell out of the little door. My boots slammed against the metal as hard as I could and yet the door didn’t budge.
I worked myself into a kicking frenzy. My breath came in gasps. I was at the edge of hyperventilating, so I willed myself to slow down and kicked in thirty-second intervals. That didn’t work either.
Steady, marine. Keep it toget
her. Focus on solving the problem. I imaged Matthias, safe at the embassy. I was going to see him again. I pictured Sarah and Lara going about their day at the station and Hannah, caring for my godchildren. Yes, I was going to see all of them again, including my parents, who I was not going to put through the ordeal of losing another daughter, not now, not ever.
I worked the blade over the ropes that bound my hands behind my back. I cut myself several times. My fingers grew slippery with sweat and blood. I had no real concept of time, but as I worked the blade on the thick ropes, it seemed like forever. The air in the tiny space grew hot with my breaths. Sweat soaked my shirt and moistened my face. Tears too. I tried to hold them back, but they seeped down my cheeks anyway.
I couldn’t see anything. The darkness was profound, thick, and pervasive. The confinement threatened to undo me. My underground cell brought back the memories in full, all those hours locked in my bio-mother’s closet, the soul-crushing emotions that had almost killed my spirit as a child.
At least the closet where I’d been trapped as a kid had had a keyhole that allowed a ray of light to pierce through the darkness. The keyhole had served as a window. Sure, it’d been a window to a cruel and disgusting world, but at least I’d had a window. Unlike now. God, I wished there was a keyhole, a little opening, a sliver of light somewhere to break up the darkness eating at my soul, steadily chomping down on my fortitude, wearing me down.
As the hours passed, I began to suspect that Kumbuyo wasn’t coming back. He’d left me to rot like a freaking corpse. He’d done it on purpose because he’d somehow gotten into my head and discovered the source of my nightmares. He sat somewhere, watching me suffer, eating up my desperation like a parasitic worm feasting on its host. He wanted me to go mad before I died.
Eventually, the razor whittled down the rope. After several attempts, I was able to snap my wrists apart and break the ropes. I shed the coils. My wrists smarted from the chafing. I took a little heart from my small accomplishment. I tucked the blade in my pocket, leveraged my hands against the opposite wall and kicked the door some more.