The trail crossed a two-lane paved road, traffic going in both directions and congested with a variety of small trucks filled with people riding in the bed and seated on the side rails, busses and scooters. Leone skillfully blended into the flow of traffic behind the other vehicle. Though each direction had a single lane, in most cases, three vehicles occupied that spot, jockeying for position and avoiding contact.
In the minutes that followed, more and more commercial properties came into view. Bus stops with brightly colored advertising and gas stations started to appear. As they rounded a gradual turn to the left, they could at last see the huge city sprawling up the gentle slope, literally covering the entire landscape. Spires of churches were prevalent, as well as several prayer towers and domes. As they entered the city proper, the traffic came to nearly a standstill. Along the side of the road were sellers of various wares, including water bottles. Once, when they were stopped, a small boy tried to sell Tucker a baby crocodile no longer than a foot, its mouth secured shut with a rubber band.
Chickens dodged cars, carts, and bicycles. Dogs slept in doorways and under concrete benches. Tucker also noticed rows of unemployed men sitting on their haunches, watching the noisy procession in front of them.
The temperature of the city was cooler than where their bunker was. Most of the larger buildings were covered in red clay tiles, but smaller single-story structures like homes and shops were covered in rusty corrugated metal, patched and repaired numerous times. The roofline looked like a colorful patchwork quilt. Here and there, a large banyan-like tree arched above the buildings, but in general, there was very little landscaping.
Leone followed the Areva Afrique truck ahead as it turned west and headed toward their planned meeting point. Tucker read several signs directing tourists to Nigerian museums, frequently dedicated showing off artifacts of the slave trade. A large customs house was located a block away from the river bank, the area surrounding it paved with brick, making it a huge open-air marketplace filled with vendors stalls. A painted green and white sign on the building indicated it was the old slave marketplace, with a date chiseled in a stone block below it of 1502. Beneath that were the words Point Of No Return.
The vehicles pulled to a stop while Leone gave out instructions. “Follow Jean through the marketplace. We have a few minutes before the boat guys should arrive, so feel free to wander but not too far. Stay in groups of at least three.”
“Can we use our dollars?” Tucker asked.
“They love dollars. That’s more than a day’s salary, but show your money cautiously, and be very careful about pickpockets. The locals don’t figure it’s illegal to cheat or steal from you. Do not use any of the cash machines, if you can find them, and don’t exchange your money at a Chinese trader.”
Danny asked for the exchange rate.
“I think roughly three hundred sixty Naira to the dollar.”
“So where do we meet up?” asked Tucker.
Leone pointed to a small gate next to the custom house. “We’ll be meeting them as they come through there. We have a place where we can leave the boat undisturbed, and Obe will guard it. You can leave your bags in the vehicle for me to guard. Be at the gate no later than,”—he checked his watch—“eleven hundred. That would be about right.”
Tucker’s group stuck together as they wandered through the marketplace. There was a section that sold fish and meats and another that sold local vegetables and cheeses.
They came upon a stall selling handmade stringed instruments of all sizes that attracted Jameson’s attention. He drew quite a crowd when he pulled down a long stringed instrument looking like a banjo, consisting of stretched skin over a calabash, and tried to play it. The neck on the instrument was nearly a foot longer than a classical banjo, and it had only three strings. The owner asked Jameson if he wanted a demonstration.
The musician began a series of repeating refrains varying slightly in syncopation but keeping to the same time. With that background, the musician chanted, his voice picking up notes in harmony to the stringed beat, cutting in and out at half-intervals similar to a blues performer. Several small children instantly appeared and started dancing in a circle at their feet, each one trying to outdo the other. Another shopkeeper picked up a thumb piano and joined in the song and dance.
Kyle’s group heard the music and turned to see what the ruckus was all about. Tucker threw his arms to the side, and Kyle closed his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief.
As soon as the music stopped, several shopkeepers ran to the circle, pushing their instruments in Jameson’s face, holding out their percussion bells, wooden xylophones, reed flutes, and animal skinned drums, as well as every size of stringed instrument imaginable. He was overwhelmed and overridden with vendors all wanting his dollars.
Tucker helped extricate him from the crowd, purchasing the thumb piano from the original vendor, which seemed like the only way to get Jameson free. The transaction cost him ten bucks.
They located Kyle’s group very close to the gate and stayed focused on catching up. Several of the men stopped along the way and bought beaded bracelets sold by children but passed up the dried fish heads, snakes and mummified baby crocodiles.
Jean was on his phone and then approached Tucker.
“We have to return the specimen to my contact at the local Civil Guard, since it’s an internal matter. I’m going to ask him some questions, and we’ll go from there.”
Tucker retrieved it from his backpack. The package was dripping and was starting to smell. He gingerly handed it over to Jean, who reluctantly took it.
The small Jeep-like vehicle with blue lights arrived and pulled some distance away as Jean ran over to meet him, clutching the package and letting it drip in his hand. Just then, DeWayne and the two boat guys came through the rusty gate to greet them.
“Uneventful trip?” Kyle asked.
“We had some traffic just before we came to the city limits. But the river looked pretty deserted today,” said Carson.
“How’d you like the ride, DeWayne?” Tucker asked.
“Cool. Felt like I had become my daddy in Nam. It was a time warp,” DeWayne answered.
Jean returned with news there had not been any kidnappings reported for nearly two weeks. But the policeman suggested they speak with the aid agencies and one of the pastors.
After their guide rinsed his hands in the fountain, he asked them to join him in a quick tour of the city.
They stayed to the main street, detouring down only a few side streets. Jean noted the police stations and the emergency pharmacies, letting them know what could be purchased there. He pointed out the government offices, most of them in their own separate, gated compounds. He recommended which restaurants to stay away from and which street vendors had food that would not make them sick.
He showed them the great houses of some of the civic leaders and which homes were owned by their own African-Bollywood celebrities and wealthy businessmen.
Kyle split them into two groups. Tucker was in the group that made the trek to the Baptist Foreign Mission Church, to speak to the new, young reverend. T.J. and several others went off in search of the Africa Corp Administration building.
Reverend Gordon Schusler was picking up bibles and hymnals left in the pews, being helped by a couple of young boys who chased up and down the rows of seats, dropping books and chattering with excitement.
Schusler looked like he was fresh out of seminary. Tucker noted a bulge under the back of the pastor’s shirt, and assumed he was probably carrying a firearm.
“We’re here on a humanitarian mission, assessing some electrical grid issues for Areva Afrique,” Jean began. “We came across evidence of a campsite and discovered a severed body part.”
The reverend turned pale. His eyes shifted nervously amongst the group.
“The local Civil Guard told us to check with you to see if you were aware of any disappearances, especially perhaps any white woman?”
The reve
rend quickly scanned his little chapel, swallowed hard, and appeared not to have hardened to the realities of the region. He checked the area behind him before he spoke.
“Oh, that pains me to hear. There is so much talk of violence now that the elections are coming up. But no, I’m not aware of anyone missing amongst our ex-pat community. But I can ask around on Sunday, if you like.”
“Would you, please?”
“You hear any talk about active human trafficking groups lurking in the area?” Kyle asked him next.
“The locals trust me. We discuss many things,” he said as he set the books on a table in the narthex. “I was just telling some of my colleagues in other regions that it appeared to be quieting some. I was hoping that perhaps the Civil Guard were doing a good job with apprehension.” He shrugged. “But you never know here. These people could be members of my church. My understanding is they blend in very well with the local population.”
Tucker could see fear written all over the young reverend’s face.
“I know you’re going to think I’m insane, but there was a rumor earlier in the year that a local dentist was conducting raids. One of the teachers recognized him. Can you believe that?”
Jean handed the clergyman his card. “Call me anytime if you hear of anything.”
They regrouped an hour later, the boat crew team returning to the shore and the rest of the team heading for the vehicles. T.J. was quite animated with his discovery at the medical mission.
“They’ve got three new teams just arrived to do health evaluations and give vaccinations at the schools, which start back up in two days. They’ve had a national holiday.”
“And?” asked Kyle.
“They’ve lost contact with one of the teams, who were supposed to check in day before yesterday.”
Kyle and Jean shared a look.
“This is out of your jurisdiction, Kyle. We have to let the locals handle it, and I’ll get my trusted friend on it. But it means we’ve stumbled onto one of the cells, I think. We’re close.”
Chapter 14
Brandy got the call from Tucker just before she was leaving for work. His handsome face was such a welcomed sight.
“You look great, Tucker!”
He gave her a crooked smile and winked. “I could say the same. How are you doing, sweetheart?”
“I’ve been busy painting, spending some time with Dorie and Jessica, and had lunch with Libby Brownlee. And of course, there’s Dad with his schoolboy crush.”
He chuckled. “I can only imagine what that’s like. He probably feels like he’s starting over.”
“At first, I think he wanted to hold back, you know, because of my mother. Now, well, I finally had to take a couple of days off he was getting to me so much.”
“Ah, let him have his fun.”
“So how have you been? Anything interesting you can tell me?” she asked.
He rolled his eyes. “Nope. But I’ll have lots of stories when I get home. Very different over here. I spent most of my time in Iraq and Afghanistan before, so this is a change in one way and not so much in others.”
His voice quieted and Brandy sensed he wasn’t anxious to go into detail, even if he could.
“You staying safe?”
“I think so. We’re in a pretty good spot. Oh, and you’ll love this. We went into the market today, and I bought some trinkets, but you should have seen the instruments. They have this long banjo-looking three-stringed thing that Jameson loved. Course, he couldn’t play it worth a damn, so we got a little concert from the shopkeeper. The kids were dancing all around us. A real Sound of Music moment. You would have loved it.”
“That’s totally not what I expected! So did he buy the banjo?”
“Nope. Way too big to lug that thing home. But I bought him what’s called a finger piano. It’s got—well, next call I’ll get it out for you. You can search the internet too. There is a metal plate carved into fingers that are different lengths. The whole piece is nailed to a wooden bowl, and they use soda pop bottle lids to hold it in place. Very different and makes a beautiful sound. He’s driving us all crazy with it.”
“Sounds cool. Is the weather okay?”
“Muggy. Bugs. Dusty. I’m sure you get the picture.”
“How do you feel being back in the Scouts?” She knew he’d pick up on the code word for Teams.
Tucker shrugged. “Work is work. Some fact finding today. Got a tour of the city, visited a little mission chapel, saw some unbelievable houses owned by the wealthy, too. It’s just different. Lots of lucky chickens and lazy dogs. Parts are incredibly beautiful, and then there are other parts that break your heart.”
Brandy saw a wrinkle develop on his forehead.
“How’s Brawley doing?”
“Fine. He’s doing fine.”
Tucker’s smile was flat. Fine was not a word he used very often, and Brandy sensed there was something deeper behind it.
“Have you eaten any of the local food?”
“We have a cook, if you can believe it. He’s made some tasty stuff. They use coconut yams and peppers in everything. Make a red and green curry-like sauce and eat it over rice or potatoes, like a chutney. A lot of seafood. Some of it reminds me of Cajun food, like jambalaya. There’s this red oil that takes your breath away. So far so good. Not had any stomach issues yet, but it’s early.”
“How long will you be, or do you know?” she asked.
“We’re just getting started, really. I can’t say, even if I knew.” Tucker turned around to speak to someone. “Hey, we got another line tonight, so I need to sign off soon.”
“No problem. I’m thrilled we got to talk. Always makes me feel better when I can see your face. So glad we get to do that.”
“Me too. I’ve been writing in the journal you packed for me. Kind of my evening routine before bedtime. Wish I could write a letter, but you’ll get caught up when I bring it home.”
“Can’t wait. Well, you take good care of yourself. I’m proud of you, Tucker. They’re lucky to have you. Just remember what you promised.”
“I think of that all the time. I’ll be home before you know it. I really appreciate being able to see a little bit of home. Not enough, of course, but it will tide me over for now.”
She kissed her phone screen. Tucker gave her the peace sign and disconnected.
She was left standing in her living room, her body shaking. She hoped they’d have longer next time, and she kicked herself for not asking when he’d be contacting her again. But she was grateful for the call. She sensed he was covering a little for Brawley but knew better than to get a report over the phone.
It was just good to hear his voice, feel that connection.
After work, Brandy had made an appointment with a personal trainer Dorie recommended. It was to be a trial, complimentary session. She met Cory in the equipment room. He was a much shorter and more compact version of Tucker, and he eagerly showed her a routine she could follow, marking machines and numbers of reps on a card he created for her. She wanted to show him how strong she was by pushing herself to the limits of exhaustion, though he cautioned to take it slower.
“I want to have guns like yours by the time my husband comes back,” she announced.
Cory gave her a goofy scrunched up expression and responded, “Doesn’t work that way, Brandy. Just be consistent. You don’t have to push yourself, experience all that pain. Besides, if you do that, you won’t enjoy it.”
She went ahead and booked another three trainings at their introductory discounted price and was feeling really good about concentrating on her health. She could also feel the effects of her exertions and knew she’d be a little sore tomorrow, but put it out of her mind.
Instead of going home to a heavy dinner or eating fast food, she sat in the juice bar and ordered a healthy green drink that was gritty and tasted terrible. She was about to dump it and leave for home when three of Dorie’s bridesmaids walked into the spa, dressed in their designer workout
sets, complete with headbands and fancy shoes she knew cost hundreds of dollars.
The ladies attracted quite a bit of attention as they sauntered through the lobby. Marsha, the one who was married to a Team 5 guy, recognized her and came bounding up to say hello, her perky ponytail flapping behind her like a school girl.
“Brandy? Is that really you?”
The initial blast of Marsha’s perfume made Brandy’s eyes water. She drew down a large slurp of the green drink, trying to look as if she was enjoying it, before she answered. “Oh hi. You’re Marsha, is that right?”
“Come on over here, girls. You remember Brandy? From Dorie’s wedding?”
The other two floated to Marsha’s side. “Who could forget that wedding?” one of them said.
“And I’m so glad we finally got that bustier on you, Brandy. How embarrassing it would have been if we’d torn the material or we couldn’t get it on,” the other girl said.
“That would have been a good America’s Funniest Videos, for sure,” answered Marsha.
Brandy wanted to throw the drink in her face. Instead, she laughed at herself with the rest of them and slurped. The seaweed and grass something-or-other drink was starting to grow on her and didn’t taste as bad the third time.
“So how is Dorie? We haven’t seen her here in ages,” Marsha asked.
“Jessica takes up a lot of her time now that she’s walking.”
The other two squealed their O.M.G.s and surprise that they’d had a baby. “I’ll bet Brawley is a divine dad,” said one of them.
Brandy wanted them to just go away and leave her alone. But she was surrounded by other people, including her new personal trainer. “How’s married life treating you, Marsha?” Brandy figured that would be mean enough.
“Gone.” She held up her bare ring finger.
Brandy wasn’t surprised. She wrapped her fingers around her straw, taking another sip and showing off her very small diamond. But it was a diamond given to her by a man who truly loved her just the way she was.
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