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

by David Nees

  He placed the call and handed the phone to the Reichard, who asked for the supervisor. When he came on the line, Reichard read the statement prepared. It said that he and his team were being held captive in Maiko National Park. They hadn’t been harmed and would be safe if instructions were followed. If the army or anyone else tried to find them, they would be killed. The ransom demanded was ten million Euros…in cash. They had 24 hours to raise the money. He would be contacted in twelve hours with further directions for paying the ransom.

  Mputu ended the call before the person on the other end could ask questions.

  “They won’t be able to find that much money in cash so quickly,” Reichard said.

  “You should pray they do.”

  Mputu sent Reichard back to the others. He directed one of his men to send in water and some food—bananas, mangos, rice and manioc.

  There was much more he needed to do, but this opportunity that had presented itself took precedent over the others. With the ransom money he could upgrade his weapons, expand his force, and drive back the ADF. Doing that would give him much more local support and aid him in getting control over the coltan mining. He would use this control in his negotiations with Zhang. He had no desire to become his lackey or employee.

  The afternoon wore on. Mputu drilled his men. He sent out patrols to cover the trails that spread out from the camp in all directions. These trails faded after one hiked out a half-day, but incoming and outgoing foot traffic kept them clear closer to the camp. Mputu didn’t like this, it telegraphed his location, but he couldn’t keep changing camps. Some stability was important for his men. With that stability, he could provide some comfort.

  He brought women in occasionally, either captives or prostitutes. His men grew edgy when they were too long without release. They fought better when their manhood was confirmed. Young boys, brought in to fight, were put through training and initiated into the rebel culture. When they were deemed trustworthy after they had fired their weapon in anger, they were treated to a woman, signaling that they had become men.

  Mputu smiled. In many ways, they were not men, but it suited his purposes to allow them to believe it. The initiation ceremonies helped to make them feel invincible in battle. That gave him an edge over the poorly motivated government troops. Yes, the money would help—better weapons and pay. Better than the army received, plus the added sexual benefits he offered. His militia would grow.

  Exactly twelve hours after the first call, Mputu placed the second call.

  “Have you made progress getting the money?” Mputu asked when the man answered.

  “Who am I speaking to?”

  “General Joseph Amunazele Mputu.”

  “Where is Reichard? Is he all right?”

  “He is all right, as are the others. He is not necessary at this point. You will deal with me.”

  “I don’t have the money yet. It will be hard to raise. Even harder to get it all in cash.”

  “Yet it is what you will do if you want you people back.”

  “I’m trying. We are not a wealthy organization.”

  “Do not bother me with excuses. You have wealthy friends. You come from a wealthy country. I’m sure the parents want to see their children back. They will contribute and they expect you to not let them down.

  “I will call you in the morning. If you have not made progress, the hostages will begin to die. I can’t be kept waiting. You will report on your progress and I will decide if it is enough. The fate of the hostages rests on what you tell me tomorrow morning. I suggest you work hard tonight.”

  He ended the call. The satellite phone could be tracked but if he kept the calls short, they would have a hard time pinpointing his location. He has already told the supervisor they were in the Maiko National Forest, but it was a large place. When this was done, he would move his headquarters to another part of the forest. But soon after, he’d be able to set up control over some of the villages and towns, like the ADF had done. He’d rival them in control over territory, especially the mining areas.

  There were no hostages from the U.S. which was helpful. That country was unpredictable. The European countries would not be so quick to send in commandos to attempt a rescue. His threat to kill the captives would further dissuade them.

  Chapter 35

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  T he next day, after a morning smoke of their cigarettes, the trackers picked up their packs and started off. As before, the pace was quick. Dan could only hope they would remember to slow down when they got closer.

  Later in the day, they came on a more obvious trail. It had seen enough foot traffic to keep it visible despite the rapid growth of the underbrush which covered over unused trails in a few weeks.

  The head tracker, Muko, stopped and held an animated conversation with Santu.

  “He says it’s not safe to use the trail. It means were getting very close. Others use this to go in and out of the camp. There is too much danger of coming across soldiers.”

  “We go back in the bush?”

  Santu nodded. “And we must be very quiet.”

  “Tell him to go slow.”

  The group eased into the surrounding bush, not leaving a trace of their exit from the trail. Now they traveled more slowly, being careful where to place their feet. The larger men stooped to slip under branches that the pygmies easily walked past.

  They came across a troop of monkeys in the trees, relaxing after a mid-day feasting on fruit. They stirred uneasily. The tracker stopped and squatted down. After searching the trees to see where they were, the men stopped looking up.

  Muko spoke quietly to Santu who leaned close to Dan. “Don’t look up at them. That is what a predator does. It will set off an alarm and alert anyone in the area.

  They sat quietly, looking down at the forest floor. Finally, the monkeys stirred and moved away through the trees.

  Muko got up, and the group moved off through the bush. The perpetual twilight in the forest had deepened by the time Muko stopped. He had led them into a particularly dense part of the undergrowth, carefully winding himself through a cluster of thorns and vines that grabbed at the larger men’s clothes. It was hard going, but Dan and his men knew not to cut the brambles away. That would leave a sign and would also defeat the natural barrier that the brush with its leaves and thorns provided.

  The three trackers began clearing a small patch of ground. Dan and his two men joined them when Muko indicated to stop. He turned to Santu and spoke to him.

  “He will clear a small spot for his group. Then he will clear a small spot for the four of us. It must not be large. We are close to the camp. We are safe here. No one patrolling will try to get through the brambles. We are even safe from a leopard here.”

  He spoke in a whisper. Santu had no experience in the forest, let alone in dealing with conflict. He only knew they were close to an enemy. A group of men who had kidnapped the volunteers and would probably kill anyone who came to rescue them. Dan could see the stress on his face. Santu would not be much help in what was to come, but he was Dan’s translator, his communications expert.

  Once the ground cover was cleared and the trackers were sure they would not be sleeping on an ant colony, they cleared a second space. They selected individual saplings and cut them off close to the ground. They left no stubs to stick up as a signal of their presence and by picking widely separated ones, no one could see anything had been disturbed when they finished.

  The work went slower since the trackers wanted to leave no evidence. After an hour, they finished both huts. They were small. The pygmies easily fit into theirs, but there was no room for all the larger men.

  “I’ll sleep outside,” Dan said after they realized the hut was too small.

  “You’ll save us from the leopard,” Roland said. “I’ll sleep better knowing that.”

  “I’m going to have to trust the thorns for that,” Dan replied. “I’ll wrap up in my ground cloth.”

 
“No fire tonight, or tomorrow,” Marcus said. “Cold manioc and bush pig.”

  “What’s left of it,” Roland said. “I’m fine with an MRE and heat pouch.”

  “Fine dining,” Marcus said. “Santu, you’re going to love tonight’s dinner.”

  Dan broke out the MREs and passed them around. The trackers watched as Dan and his two men started heating the food. It was beef stew. When the food was hot, Dan passed the package to Muko. The man took the package and then dropped it when he felt the heat. He started talking quietly and rapidly to the other two trackers, pointing to the package. One of them reached out to touch the plastic package. And yanked his hand back.

  Roland chuckled. The trackers looked at him. He demonstrated tearing the package open and putting a spoon in to eat. The three trackers looked at him but didn’t move. Marcus reached over and tore open a pack and handed it to Muko. He sniffed his own pack and indicated for Muko to do the same.

  After sniffing the package, Muko dipped his fingers into the stew and put them in his mouth. He swallowed, and after a moment, repeated the move. The other two joined him and soon they were eating the beef stew in large mouthfuls.

  In between bites, they spoke back and forth.

  “What are they saying?” Dan asked.

  “I can’t get it all, but it amazes them that you create heat out of nothing, no fire. They think you must be a sorcerer, not just a medicine man who brings healing pills.” Santu dipped his spoon into the meal. “How does this heat up?”

  “Chemical reaction. The water hits some magnesium which causes rapid heating. Not enough to melt the plastic, but enough to heat the food. Stealthy. No smoke, no flame.”

  After eating, the men bedded down for the night. It was pitch black inside the dense bushes where they had camped. Marcus and Roland used red headlamps, heavily shrouded, inside the hut, to pull their sleeping gear out. Dan curled up in front of the entrance with an extra shirt as a pillow of sorts and covered himself as well as he could to avoid the mosquitoes.

  The day birds had quieted down, leaving the dark to the night fliers. The hoot of an owl and the occasional clucking of a Congo peafowl could be identified, but there were other sound, trills and cricket-like sounds that were a mystery to Dan. The night was not as noisy as the day, but still full of aerial sounds.

  He let his mind relax. Tomorrow would bring enough tension. A plan was beginning to form in his mind. He just needed more information to shape it.

  Chapter 36

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  T he next morning Dan was eating a couple of power bars and drinking some water when Marcus and Roland came out of the hut.

  “How’d you sleep?” Marcus asked.

  “Not bad, considering.”

  “Considering the mosquitos?”

  Dan nodded.

  “We had the same inside. I hope to hell we don’t get malaria or something worse,” Marcus said. “You know those pills aren’t a hundred percent effective.”

  Dan didn’t answer. He dug through his pack. There was much to do today. Santu followed the other two out of the hut. Muko and the two other trackers were already up. They were rubbing their spear points in a paste they had spread on a piece of wood.

  “What’s that?” Roland asked.

  “Poison,” Santu said. “A particularly nasty poison. You can see, they are being very careful with it while they coat their spears.”

  “Anticipating some action, it seems,” Marcus said.

  “There won’t be any action today,” Dan said. “Tell Muko he and I are going to sneak up on the camp and watch.”

  Dan pulled his ghillie suit out of his pack and laid it on the ground. Santu watched him as did the other trackers after they finished coating their spears. Dan began lacing leaves through the suit’s mesh. He worked at it for a half hour. Once Muko saw what he was doing, he collected more leaves for him.

  When Dan was done, he put the suit over him along with the hood. The pygmies stood up and looked at him with shocked faces. They began talking to one another in excited voices.

  Dan looked over at Santu, whose face was scrunched up in his efforts to understand the rapid flow of words from the trackers.

  “They say you look like one of the jungle spirits. They think you maybe transform yourself into one at night. That is why you slept outside the hut.”

  “Quite a reputation you’re getting boss,” Marcus said.

  Dan reached back into his pack and pulled out his .22 pistol with its suppressor. Then he dug into the dirt, poured some water on the ground, and daubed his face with the mud.

  “You want us to go with you?” Marcus asked.

  “No, you two stay here. Just me and Muko. Any more and we risk getting exposed. Spend the day checking weapons, working on your own camouflage.”

  “We don’t have a fancy ghillie suit like you,” Roland said. “I guess we don’t rate.”

  “I thought you guys were so good you didn’t need a suit to help you.”

  “We are, but it would have been a nice gesture.”

  Dan shrugged. He turned to Santu. “Tell Muko we have to go now.”

  But Muko was involved in a ceremony with the two trackers. They took the few remaining pieces of bush pig and laid them on a large leaf. Standing, Muko spoke some words directed to the surround bush. When he was done, he picked up the food and walked it into the brush and placed it on the ground.

  “More invoking the spirits?” Dan asked.

  Santu nodded. “I think he also asked them to make sure you didn’t turn on them as well.”

  Dan had his pistol in its holster. He shouldered his AK and nodded to Muko. The two of them slipped into the bush and disappeared from sight.

  Muko led the way as the two of them moved through the bush. With Muko going slow so Dan could follow silently in his wake. They stayed away from the well-worn trail

  Finally, he stopped and crouched down. Dan did the same. Muko pointed ahead and then to his eyes. Dan searched the undergrowth in front of him, but couldn’t see anything. He shook his head. Muko pointed again, and now to his ears.

  They listened.

  Dan could hear muffled sounds that could be people talking. A rooster called out. As he focused on the sounds, he could hear a door slam shut. He indicated that they should go forward. Dan pointed to his eyes and then to the binoculars he carried. Muko looked at him, his large, brown eyes showing no expression. Dan couldn’t be sure he understood, but the tracker started forward, now in a crouch.

  A half hour later, both men stopped and listened. The sounds were clearer now. Dan guessed they were less than fifty yards from the camp clearing. He motioned to Muko to stay behind and started crawling forward. He was careful to avoid snapping any fallen branches or dragging any brush along with him.

  Crawl five yards. Stop and listen. Keep looking around so you see what’s in front of you before anyone can see you. Soon he could see more light ahead. The deep forest twilight was giving way to the bright sun of the camp clearing. Dan found an especially thick placement of undergrowth and slid his body into it. His AK was shrouded in camouflage cloth and laying in front of him. He could see the compound through the brush now.

  He marked the buildings in his mind. There was a house with a porch closest to him. He noted the two larger buildings and the smaller structures on the far side of the porch house, which he guessed would be the camp commander’s place. The two larger buildings across an open area might be meeting and sleeping quarters for the men. There were men going in and out of one of them. The two smaller ones on the far side of the camp were of more interest. He guessed one of them might be where the hostages were being held.

  Some younger rebels, looking more like boys than men, were drilling in the main yard. They recited something that Dan couldn’t understand in Swahili as they drilled, punctuating their movements with the rhythm of their chanting. A man came out on the porch of the commander’s building and sat down. He lit a cigarette. He seem
ed to be watching the kids drilling in the yard. Another man came out and brought him a something to drink.

  There were men standing watch at the edge of the compound. They paced slowly back and forth over a thirty or forty-yard section of the compound. One of them walked past Dan, not five yards from where he was lying. He carried a beat-up AK-47 slung over his chest. His uniform consisted of brown pants and a camo shirt. His beret mirrored the one worn by the man on the porch. It was the same color, but didn’t have any medallions on it. He had a pair of scuffed boots with laces partly missing.

  Dan counted only four sentries. Would they put out more at night? While he was watching, two men left the larger building and walked towards him, across the compound. They saluted the man on the porch as they passed by him. That’s the commander. The two men carried similar carbines and wore a similar uniform. They passed twenty yards to Dan’s left and headed into the jungle. Wonder how far out they patrol the trails?

  The man on the porch got up and went inside. A moment later, the other man came out and headed to the building on the far side of the camp. He unlocked the door and brought out a young, white man. Taking him by the arm, he led him back to the commander’s house.

  That’s where they’re holding them. Dan liked that it was on the edge of the camp, closer to the forest. They would have to work their way around the camp to the far side to get close to the building. He turned to go back to Muko and found him lying ten feet behind and to one side. He had never heard him approach.

  Dan motioned Muko to come closer. When he was next to him, Dan modeled the buildings on the ground and pointed to the far one, indicating that was where the hostages were kept. Muko, after studying Dan’s model and watching his gestures, nodded his head. As always, his large brown eyes gave no hint of what he was thinking.

  They watched for another two hours. The young white man left the commander’s building and was brought back to the smaller structure. Muko nodded. He understood where the prisoners were being kept.