Death in the Congo: Book 5 in the Dan Stone series

by David Nees

  “We’ll get a lot of looks, especially since you’re so tall, but the crowd is mostly curious, not threatening.”

  “I’m pretty good at registering threats. Something you learn in the military and then in bodyguard school.”

  “There’s bodyguard school?”

  Roland laughed. “No, just pulling your leg, as we say in the US.”

  “It’s far too early in our relationship for you to pull my leg. Maybe after I’ve known you for a while.”

  “Let’s not wait too long, who knows where fate will take us. We met by chance. I’m worried that I may never see you again, after you go back to the jungle.”

  She reached up and patted him on the cheek. “Don’t worry about that, mon amour. Let’s enjoy the night’s adventures.”

  The music grew louder as they approached the nightclub.

  “It sounds very Caribbean,” Roland said.

  “I think you mean Caribbean music sounds very African. It comes from here.”

  “You are correct mademoiselle.”

  He put his arm around her and kissed her on the top of her head. They made their way through the crowd. Roland noticed some looks of curiosity from the young men outside. Some stared at Yvette as well; a tall European beauty who carried herself with a certain boldness.

  Inside the music dominated with its booming bass sound; bodies were packed tightly together, either dancing or just gyrating in place to the rhythm. On the stage, a band played with a female singer belting out a Congolese pop tune. A disco ball rotated and flashed lights in a moving circle around the dark room.

  They worked their way to the bar and ordered a round of drinks.

  “It’s kind of like a seventies Paris disco,” Yvette said.

  “In the US this would be more like an urban club, but there would be rap music going. But I got to tell you, if they start playing techno, we have to leave.”

  She laughed. “I don’t think you have to worry about that. Although I’ve heard some rap-type lyrics. Everyone still wants the music. I don’t blame them. You can’t sit still.”

  “Or stand still.” Roland drained his beer and set it on the bar. “Let’s show ‘em we’ve got some rhythm.”

  They went out and danced, jostling among the others on the crowded floor. On stage some dancers had joined the band and were gyrating and twerking in a semi-organized fashion. Roland only had eyes for Yvette, who moved with a mixture of grace and seductiveness.

  Later they stood in a corner at the end of the bar, now nursing their drinks. It was two in the morning and both knew their limits.

  “Do you think this guy you spoke of, Dieu Merci, is a problem for what you’re trying to do?” Roland asked.

  “I do.” He’s like many Congolese bureaucrats. I hate to say it. I could see it made Santu sad.” She looked up at Roland. “How did you ever connect with him?”

  “It was in Kinshasa. He intervened to stop some guys from starting something they wouldn’t have been able to finish.”

  She nodded her head.

  “He showed up when we were leaving. I think he impressed Dan with how he figured out where we were staying. He convinced him he would be useful.” Roland paused. “So far he’s proven to be correct.”

  “A fixer, I think that is what he is, helps everything go smoother, even for tough guys like you.”

  Yvette. I’m only tough on the outside. Inside, I’m tender and warm.”

  “But not soft, I hope.”

  Roland smiled. “Never soft. Gentle, but not soft.” He straightened himself up for a moment. “There’s an old blues line. It goes, ‘men don’t like me ’cause I speak my mind, women like me ’cause I take my time’.”

  Yvette turned the phrase over in her mind. “That’s very racy, monsieur. Are you trying to embarrass me?”

  “Never mon amour. Trying to entice you.” He gave her a large smile and took a pull from his beer.

  After another hour of dancing and another round of drinks, Yvette declared it was time to go.

  “Et un peu enivrés, I’m getting a little tipsy.”

  “As you wish, my dear.”

  Roland led them outside. The crowd had thinned a little since they had entered two hours ago. They started down the street. Before getting to the Toyota, they heard a stifled scream coming from an alley to their right. Roland stopped instantly and turned.

  “We should not go in there,” Yvette said, putting a hand on his arm.

  “That’s a woman in trouble. I can’t walk away. Wait here.”

  He started forward.

  “I’m going with you,” she said. “I’m not standing out here by myself.”

  “Okay, but stay behind me.”

  Roland’s voice now held no hint of flirtation. It was flat and commanding. He gave her the car keys.

  “Put these in your hand and make a fist around it. Let the key stick out between your first two fingers. If someone gets past me and comes for you, punch them in the face with the key. Not the arm, not the shoulder…the face. And no round-house swing. Punch straight out at their face, hard.”

  As they stepped into the greater dark of the alley, Roland could hear some scuffling ahead. In a few steps he could distinguish figures. It was four men groping a young woman. One of the men was holding his hand over her mouth as she twisted and squirmed in his grasp. The others were trying to pull her clothes off of her.

  “Arrête ça!” Roland said in a forceful voice.

  The men looked at Roland in surprise. They obviously hadn’t heard his approach.

  “Better leave, if you don’t want to get hurt,” one of them said in French.

  Yvette translated from behind him.

  “I’ll give you one chance to let her go and you walk away. After that you will get hurt.”

  Three of the men looked as if they didn’t understand. The fourth grinned as if he thought it was a bluff.

  Yvette translated in a loud voice.

  Now two of the men flashed a smile.

  “White guy. Go home. This is not your country or your city. You don’t tell us what to do.”

  The woman whimpered; her mouth still covered by the man’s hand. Her eyes looked at Roland, wide with fright and pleading.

  “Last chance. Then I’m going to do some hurting.”

  “Maybe we take your white girl too? You should not bring her back in here.”

  Roland took a step forward. He stood relaxed, his arms at his side. The three not holding the girl stepped forward and spread themselves out. They tried to encircle Roland and Yvette. Roland edged to one side with Yvette matching his move from behind.

  The man to Roland’s left was just out of his reach. Roland waited; his hands balled into fists. The man lunged towards Roland to strike at his head. Roland turned his body to the left and deflected the blow with his forearm. He swung with his right and slammed his fist into the man’s neck. The man’s head flopped forward as Roland’s blow stopped his charge. Then he collapsed to the ground. Roland continued spinning to the left, coming full circle in time to deliver a ferocious kick to the crotch of the man on the right. The strike lifted him off his feet and he dropped to the ground, grasping at his testicles.

  The third man leaped onto Roland’s back, delivering a punch to his neck. He wrapped his arms around Roland’s neck, trying to strangle him. Roland lurched backwards and slammed the man into a concrete wall. He could hear the sharp exhale as the wind was knocked out of him.

  In that moment, Roland reached up and applied a pinch to the nerve in the man’s elbow. His grip loosened as his arm went numb. Roland peeled the man’s arm off of his neck and pulled the man around in front of him. He delivered a sharp punch to the man’s nose. There was a loud crack as it broke and flattened against his face. The man fell to the ground with blood spurting from his smashed nose.

  The fourth man released the girl and took off down the alley into the darkness. Roland picked up the man holding his crotch by his arm and leg and, like a discus thrower,
swung him around and threw him ten yards down the alley after his fleeing companion. Meanwhile, the girl ran up to Yvette, who held on to her as she gathered her torn clothes around her.

  Roland stepped over to the man he punched in the neck. He had missed the trachea, which he intended to do. He hadn’t wanted to kill him. After seeing he could still breathe, Roland also picked him up and flung him after the other man. Both men lay on the ground either stunned or knocked out after their flight through the air.

  Lastly, Roland knelt over the man with the broken nose. He looked up at Roland, now with fear in his eyes.

  “Tell him,” Roland said, “this is what happens to men who don’t respect women.” Yvette translated. “Ask him his name.”

  Yvette asked him.

  “Jonas,” the man said with a phlegm-filled voice.

  “Tell Jonas if he tries this again, I will put a curse on him and his cock will rot away.”

  Yvette told the man, once in French and once in Swahili. The man’s eyes grew wider.

  “Tell him I’m a powerful man and my uncle is a powerful sorcerer. He will be cursed if he goes against what I tell him.”

  She repeated what Roland had said. Now Roland got up and pulled the man upright. He sent him staggering down the alley with a sharp, painful kick to his butt.

  He turned to the two women. They both were looking at him with wide eyes, not in fear but in amazement.

  “We’ll take her home. We should go now.” He started towards the street and the women fell in with him.

  They drove through Goma in silence. The girl directed Roland to her house. Both women sat in the back seat. When they reached her home, a small house with concrete block walls, she gave Yvette a big hug and got out.

  “Merci,” she said to Roland and then went through her gate.

  Yvette got into the front seat with Roland and they drove off.

  “That was amazing,” she said. “I was scared, but you handled them like they were children.”

  “They’re not professionals. This is what we do in the military, learn how to fight and kill if necessary.”

  “And in bodyguard school as well?”

  Roland stopped the car and turned to her and smiled. “Of course.”

  She leaned over, reached up to his head, and pulled him close to her. Their lips met, and she opened herself to his kiss. They sat there lost in a long embrace until horns started honking behind them.

  Pulling back, Roland laughed.

  “Guess the middle of the street is not the best place to kiss a pretty girl.”

  When they arrived at Yvette’s hotel and got out, Roland took her in his arms and kissed her long and deep. She didn’t resist and let her body move close to his, pressing against every inch of skin. He could feel her breasts and flat belly against him; her hips shoved forward to meet his.

  “It’s been…quite an evening,” Yvette said after they pulled apart.

  “Will I see you again?” Roland asked.

  Without answering, Yvette took out a pen and piece of paper and wrote her cell number on it.

  “Call me tomorrow, but if we can’t get together before I go back in two days, you call me at the park. We have a cell tower at the headquarters. I want to see you again. I want to see more of you.”

  “You promise you won’t take advantage of me? I’ve got a sensitive nature.”

  “I promise to take as much advantage of you as I can. I think you’ll like it.” She gave him an inviting smile and turned to go into the hotel.

  Roland stood there watching her disappear into the building. What have I gotten myself into?

  Chapter 21

  ___________________________________

  B ack in Langley, Virginia, Garrett Easton, the DDO, was concerned. That wasn’t unusual in his position. Hot spots were always flaring up; crises looming on the horizon. His job was to evaluate them and give the Director sound advice so he could pass that wisdom, such as it was, on to the President.

  This time the NSA had reported an increase in diplomatic communications from China. Messages, encrypted, from the government to embassies around the world. This activity was not all that unusual, what was unusual was the dramatic rise in intensity of the communications. There also were increased troop movements in China, including large numbers being positioned near the coast. By themselves these were not ominous, but together, coupled with the increase in aggressive language directed towards Taiwan…it made one pause to think. Was there something going on? Something he should be aware of or make a reasonable guess about? Garrett shook his head. Such was the nature of his job; always working in the fog.

  *

  Dan woke before any of the others. They were sleeping off the previous night’s activities. He went down to the hotel’s restaurant and got himself a cup of coffee and juice—pineapple and mango—and stepped out to the patio overlooking the lake. If one didn’t look too closely, the view could be Switzerland or Northern Italy—one of the lake towns where the wealthy had their lakeside homes.

  Soon things are going to get real, he thought. Rough and dirty. Might as well enjoy the small luxuries while I can. He took out his phone and called Jane. After five rings, a groggy voice responded.

  “I hope this is important.

  “I’m sorry to wake you. It’s morning here, and I wanted to know what you found.”

  “You couldn’t wait until I get up? It’s the middle of the night.” She paused for a moment. “I’ve got the address you wanted. Your information was correct. Zhang purchased a plantation that was owned by a rich Britisher. His company ran the plantation, but they abandoned it when the revolts sprang up. They have coffee investments in safer parts of the world, including Rwanda and Uganda. It appears Zhang paid quite a pretty price for the place.”

  “Not him, his government.”

  “You can put the next step into action. Do you have a plan?”

  “Working on it today. Send me the details of the plantation.”

  “Let me know when you go into action. I want to be kept up to date. No going dark on me, understand?”

  “I’ll do my best. But you know how it is. It generally gets too busy to keep you informed in any semblance of real time. That’s what you hired me for, isn’t it? Get the job done.”

  “It is, but I like knowing what’s going on as well.”

  “I’ll call you when we’re ready to act…and when it’s over. That’s all I can promise.”

  Dan ended the call and got up. He drained his cup and headed back up to the room.

  Everyone was beginning to rouse themselves. Santu had gone to the dining room to see if he could get the staff to bring a large plate of eggs along with coffee to the room. Roland was sucking down a bottle of water.

  “That was some night,” he said. “I’d have filled you in, but you babies were all sound asleep when I got back.”

  “How’d you do? Did you score a home run or finally strike out?” Marcus asked.

  Roland turned to him. “Don’t be so crude.”

  “We just want to know how our Casanova fared, that’s all.”

  Santu came into the room with a large pot of coffee. “Omelets are on the way along with assorted fresh fruit,” he announced proudly.

  “You are the man,” Roland said.

  Everyone poured themselves a large mug of coffee.

  “We’ll get the waitress to refill the pot when she gets here with the food,” Santu said. “Be sure to give her a big tip.” This last he directed to Dan.

  “So…about last night?” Marcus said as everyone settled down with their mugs.

  “I think I’m in love,” Roland replied.

  “Did you stay at the Kivu Club after we left?”

  Roland shook his head and began to recount the evening to everyone’s rapt attention. His story was only interrupted by the waitress who brought in a platter of omelets along with plates and silverware. She left with the coffeepot and a large tip from Dan.

  “Damn. What part
of not drawing attention to yourself didn’t you understand?” Marcus asked.

  Roland gave his Delta Force partner a cold look. “You’d of done the same thing.” He shook his head. “Not going to let some girl get raped when I can stop it.”

  “You’re right.” Marcus sighed. “It just seems like trouble finds you, even when you don’t look for it.” He paused to gulp some coffee. “You think you’ll see her again?”

  “She said she wants to see more of me. I’m looking forward to it.” He turned to Dan. “Seriously, boss. This woman is something special. When I took on the thugs in the alley, she didn’t flinch and stayed with me step-by-step. I could sense she was ready to defend herself, vigorously if necessary. She may have been afraid, but she had it under control. I’ve never felt this way before about a female.”

  “Roland,” Marcus said, “calm down. This is someone you’ve known for one evening. She’s probably star-struck at you playing the hero.”

  “But a lot happened in that evening. We were clicking even before the incident.”

  “Beyond finding the girl of your dreams, a French girl, hidden away in the deepest part of Africa, a girl on a mission to save gorillas, who you now think might make the perfect wife, did you learn anything that might help our mission?” Dan asked.

  “Yeah. You expect you’ll just take her back to civilization?” Marcus asked. “She’ll become the faithful housewife in Fayetteville while you go off on adventures? She’ll join the other wives in their weekly bridge club meetings or fitness classes?”

  “Fuck you,” Roland said.

  To Dan, he seemed genuinely hurt.

  Marcus caught the look as well. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to throw water on your flame.”

  “Let me dream a bit. Maybe there’ll be something in it, maybe not. But that’s my business. I don’t need both of you giving me love advice. I can handle myself just fine.”