by David Nees
“No one’s going to grab me right off the street.”
Dan glanced at Marcus. “Probably not. But there’d be a hell of a firefight which would be almost as bad.” He turned back to watch the road ahead. “No, I have to be a ghost, never seen before or after.”
Marcus sighed. “I guess you’re right. I still don’t like leaving you there to find your own way back. You’ll stand out as much as me.”
“I’ll figure it out. Even if I have to hike all the way back. I’ve hiked farther in hostile territory.”
“How long do I wait?”
Dan thought about the question. If Marcus and Roland had to leave, they knew what to do. He knew he could get out by himself if necessary. Still, he didn’t like splitting up.
“Wait two days. I’ll call as soon as I get into cell phone range. If I haven’t called in two days, pay Santu and help him get out of town and then get yourselves out. You know the route.”
“Goma, to Burundi, then possibly Rwanda or Uganda, then Europe.”
They drove on in silence. Once past Kimoho they turned north on the rough road that led to the plantation and ended in the village of Lukweti on the Luhulu River. Marcus stopped when the reached the place where they had parked before.
“End of the road, amigo.”
“Beginning the last leg of the journey,” Dan said.
He got out and shouldered his backpack, which had the gun case carrying his Sako sniper rifle strapped to it. Dan also had his Kalashnikov along with his 9mm.
“Food for five days, water, weapons and ammo.” Dan checked off his gear. “Spotting scope, ghillie suit, knife. I’m good to go.”
Marcus gave him a bear hug. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”
“Expect it.” He smiled at Marcus. “And Marcus, promise me you’ll get Yvette the hell out of the country…right away. Roland can carry on with this romance on his own time, but she needs to be gone.”
“Yes sir!” Marcus gave him a mock salute.
Dan smiled and turned to the forest. Within moments, he was lost in the dense foliage.
Dan hiked through the forest, using his compass to maintain direction. He stopped when he reached the field. He noticed with satisfaction that he could not find evidence of their previous crawl through the grass and low shrubs. Taking a deep breath, he dropped down and started crawling, mindful of the black mamba which inhabited the forests in the area. It was large, aggressive, and deadly.
Once on the other side, Dan shouldered his gear and started in through the trees. After an hour of hiking, he turned more to the east, aiming for the edge of the forest. Once he reached the edge, Dan oriented himself to the plantation’s main house. He then faded back into the cover of the trees and moved farther north.
Wonder if I can find the spot I had picked out before? It really didn’t matter, since there were many suitable spots to set up. An hour later, Dan moved to the edge and set up a shooting hide. He found a fallen log near the edge of the trees. After marking a sight line to the house, he cleared selected branches and leaves. Just enough to give him a clear view of the house, yard and helipad, while leaving him and his rifle shielded from being seen.
Behind his shooting area, Dan tried to construct a hut like he’d seen the Twa pygmies do in the national forest. His efforts were not nearly as good, but it would provide some shelter. He found the large leaves that Muko and the others had used and spent an hour lacing them through the sticks he had bent over. In the end, the hut looked serviceable and would give him some shelter from the rain.
With the camp completed, Dan went back to the shooting spot and scoped the distance. It was eight hundred and sixty yards. Just about the same as he had measured before. He sat down to calculate the settings on his scope with the elevation drop figured in. Once he had done that, he set the dials. Then he went back over his numbers again, coming up with the same settings which he then double checked on the scope.
“One chance. One shot,” he said out loud. “Then all hell breaks loose.” WWIII? Dan didn’t know. Much rather be killing terrorists. Not so complicated.
“Now we wait.” There was always the waiting.
Dan watched until the sun abruptly shut down behind him. Clouds formed in the eastern sky with lightning flashes. Rain tonight. He went back to his hut and opened up an MRE. There’d be no more watching in the dark. General Wu would not arrive at night. He’d come in the day. Probably on Zhang’s helicopter. And Zhang would be out front to meet him. That was when both men would meet their fates.
Dan thought about how bold Jane had become. It was not her alone. She couldn’t drive such an agenda. Luckily, the CIA still had a director that was not crippled by PC dogma and its focus on playing nice, even with the not-so-nice. The president would not approve this mission and many senators would have the hides of anyone who did.
Yet there were still a few who knew they had to act. But in a manner that could not come back on them or the president. They believed the action would disrupt China enough for them to miss their moment of opportunity. It would put off what might be inevitable, a hot war over, what? Taiwan? The South China sea? Dan shook his head. It could be any of those.
China played the long game. A long-term dictator could indulge in such behavior. He didn’t have to worry about getting elected and re-elected. He wasn’t changed out for another model after eight years at best.
In some ways a dictatorship is more efficient. Churchill’s words came to mind. “Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others.” Lots of truth to that. In the end, Dan thought, we needed a new president. One who would steadily push back against China, re-balance the trade, lower our dependency on them, all the while letting their built-in weaknesses grow and begin to cripple them.
The trick lay in keeping China from lashing out into a hot war, even regionally, when their problems became too great. All regimes in the end are about self-preservation, no matter what the cost. He shook his head. Glad I don’t have to manage that problem. But here he was now, playing a crucial part in a drama that could backfire on all the bright minds in Langley and unleash a destruction not seen before.
That night Dan lay in his ground cloth, covering himself as best he could against the onslaught of mosquitoes. He was on a bed of the same large leaves that formed his roof. The rain came, which gave some relief from the incessant, biting aerial monsters. His hut dripped rainwater in many places, but overall kept him much drier than if he had been out in the open. When the rain stopped, the mosquitoes started up again. Much later, nearer to the morning, the flying barrage quieted down and he could get a few uninterrupted hours of sleep.
The sun popped up over the hills behind the plantation house, lighting the valley and the opposite hillside where Dan lay hidden. He crawled out of his hut and stretched in the early cool. Nights in the higher elevation of the forest were cool, but it would soon get hot and steamy. After an MRE and some coffee that came packed with it, Dan took up his watch.
Patience. He reminded himself that Jane had told him it might be a couple of days before Wu arrived.
Chapter 56
___________________________________
M arcus stopped at Kimoho. He was not going to go back to Goma. He would find a place to sleep, stay out of sight so he wouldn’t cause a stir in the village, and wait for his friend and fellow warrior to return. The village had one of the diesel-powered cell towers, so he could wait for Dan’s call and respond quickly. Dan would have a long journey if he had to get back to Goma on foot.
A few inquiries in the market area in his limited French netted him directions to a building just off the main road. Marcus walked in and was able to negotiate a room with a window facing the street for 40,000 Congolese francs, or about twenty-two U.S. dollars. He guessed that even this price was jacked up due to his obvious western looks. He didn’t mind. The room kept him off the street and it had a mosquito net over the bed, something Marcus considered a great luxury.
With
the Toyota locked up below his window, Marcus settled down to wait.
*
Roland got the call later the same day Dan and Marcus left. It was Marcus.
“I’m going to wait for Dan. We’ll be out for a couple of days…don’t know for sure. I need you to do two things for me, buddy.”
Roland waited for Marcus to continue.
“You got to send Yvette home. Do it now. Things may get hot and she should not be around. She has no idea what we’re involved in and how messy it can get.”
“She’s got some idea—”
“She doesn’t know the half of it. Send her home. You can take time off after this mission. Go to France, go hiking, sailing, biking, fucking, whatever you want to do. Think about the relationship and where you want it to go.” Marcus paused. “But right now, get her out of Goma.”
Roland didn’t answer.
“Roland, you hear what I’m saying?”
“Yeah,” he finally said.
“You know I’m right, so get it done. I can count on you, can’t I?”
“Yeah. You can count on me.”
“Good. The next thing is that you and Santu should visit Dieu Merci and give him the fetish. It was not cheap. And hopefully Santu can pass on his fear to the man. Dan wants that done so we can bug out after his job’s completed.”
“It’s going to take a few days to get Yvette out of here. And a few days to get hold of Dieu.”
“Jesus. Roland. Put her on the next plane out, to Rwanda, Uganda, or Kinshasa. She’s a big girl and can make her connections from there, but get her the hell out of Goma. She should be gone with the rest of the NGO staff. If she isn’t, shame on you.”
He didn’t wait for a reply, but continued.
“It might take a couple of days to connect with Dieu. Meet him in his office if you have to. Or grab him off the streets and take him out to the country.”
Marcus suddenly stopped.
“Fuck! I’ve got it!”
“What’s that?”
“Grab him off the streets and take him to the sorcerer. That’ll scare the bejesus out of him.”
“If I can get Santu to go back. That last visit really freaked him out.”
“Yeah. You’ll also need more money. That fucker doesn’t work for free.”
“Don’t be disrespectful, he’s a professional after all.”
Roland’s sense of humor was beginning to return.
“Oh, right. Sorry about that. Don’t tell him I disrespected him.”
The conversation continued. Roland would meet with Yvette that night and get her on the plane tomorrow. Reichard had not yet left, so she would fly with him to Kinshasa. Roland figured he could convince Santu to go back in order to create the right impression on Dieu. They guessed it would take another 100,000 to 200,000 francs to have the sorcerer scare the hell out of the man.
*
Dan watched throughout the next day with nothing going on. He saw Zhang once on the front steps of the main house and another time heading out to the coffee tree groves in the back. During the day, men came and went. On one side of the property was a large shed with long tables under a roof. Through his spotting scope, Dan could see coffee beans spread out on the tables. Regularly, one or two women would manually spread the beans around, turning them over. Drying them out. Inside the building was some machinery that Dan couldn’t identify. A mechanical dryer and a bagger? He knew the beans had to be dried and bagged before they got shipped out. They would load them on trucks and take them to Goma. From there, Dan had no idea. A portion of the product was probably smuggled into Rwanda or Burundi. Avoiding the taxes would help improve profit margins. They would export the rest through Kinshasa, with taxes being paid on the produce.
He passed his time musing on the economics of the coffee trade. It was an addictive product, like cocaine, but milder…and legal. Hope to hell they don’t figure out they can grow coca bushes here, just like in Columbia. That would really ruin the country. The enormous profits from such an industry mixed with the current culture of corruption would tear the country apart. Farmers would abandon their food crops for something that created so much cash. Imagining the warlords and the amount of money they could corral gave him an apocalyptic picture of the DRC’s future. Got to hope that never happens.
Far better would be for the U.S. to help the DRC get their coltan mining under control; consolidate the artisanal mining and do it in a more environmentally safe manner. It could create hard, but decent paying jobs, and provide needed government income. The only problem with such Pollyanna thoughts was that no government officials would become inordinately wealthy. It would be hard to convince such men to give up the graft that enabled them to amass private wealth at the expense of the country.
In the midst of such thoughts, his mind wandered to his two targets. Did they have families? Children? What would be the effect on them? He grimaced and steered his thoughts away from that direction. It would do no good. They were who they were and it was his job to eliminate them. They were soldiers. They might not realize that they were on the front lines, but that was not Dan’s problem. China was maneuvering against the U.S. Against the west. His job was to interrupt those actions. Cut off the head and the body dies.
He sighed. Only this time the body wouldn’t die, but he would disrupt China’s plans and buy time for the U.S. to get its policies together to meet the challenges the country presented.
That night brought thunderstorms again. Dan hunkered down. Day would come soon, and he could dry out somewhat before the heat began to steam up the forest. I might start growing mold soon if I have to stay much longer. He longed for a stream to wash his sweat-soaked body clean.
Chapter 57
___________________________________
I won’t do it. This is too much. Much more than I signed up for. I’ve helped guide you from Kinshasa to Goma, given you background on our country, helped you out with the villagers and bluffed us out of trouble—you weren’t there to see it. But I’m not going back to that sorcerer. He’ll want to suck me into his world.”
Roland smiled. He didn’t have answers to Santu’s objections. But he knew that eventually he would get Santu to do what he asked.
“I’m going to protect you, Little Buddy.”
“Don’t ‘little buddy’ me. You only care about your mission. You’ll discard me once it’s done and I’ll have to live with the mess while you go off to America.”
Roland shook his head. “That’s not how we work. We don’t abandon our mates. You’re part of the team, so you don’t get abandoned. Look, we all go our separate ways when we’re done, but we make sure each person is good before we do.”
Santu turned to the window. They were in the large suite that they rented in the Ihusu Hotel.
“You make sure I get back to Kinshasa?”
“You got it.”
“Alive?”
Roland laughed. “Of course. That’s the only way that counts.”
“I won’t handle the fétiche.”
“Agreed. Now let’s figure out where to grab Dieu Merci.”
“We don’t set this up with the sorcerer first?”
“Nah. I don’t think that man goes out much. He’ll be home and he won’t mind the money, or the opportunity to show off.”
Santu gave Roland a look of disdain. “He’s not showing off. You be careful around him.” He turned and walked over to Roland. “And don’t put that thing in your pocket. Put it in a bag. I like you, even if you try to get me into trouble.”
The two of them staked out the government office where Bakasa worked. After following him home, they decided to grab him the next morning when he left to go to work. His neighborhood was more secluded than the office building, so there was less chance of being seen.
“You’re the driver,” Roland said. “I’ll do the intercept.”
The next morning they were sitting in a rental car fifty yards away from the entrance to Bakasa’s house. The house was w
alled off with a gate for the car and a parking area inside. Bakasa would be in his car as he entered the street.
“I’ll pull out when he turns onto the street. Accelerate past his car and then pull sideways to a stop. You jump into the driver’s seat after I get out.”
“You don’t want me to drive from the start?”
Roland shook his head. “No. The ambush has to be precise. Can’t let him drive around the car, so I have to get close, but not so close as to cause an accident. It’s tricky.”
Roland had a hood he had made up the night before from a pillowcase. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do.”
“You’re not going to shoot him, are you?”
“Not unless he makes me.”
At 8:30 am the gate swung open. Roland started the car.
“Here we go.”
Santu buckled his seat belt.
“Don’t buckle your belt, dummy, you have to change seats.”
“I didn’t think.” Santu’s voice evidenced his stress.
“You okay?”
Santu nodded.
Bakasa’s car, a black BMW, pulled out of the drive and turned right onto the street. Roland accelerated away from the side of the road and pulled up to the car. He swung around it and, when past, hit the brakes and slewed sideways in front of Bakasa’s car. The rental car blocked the side road. Bakasa slid his car to a stop just short of Roland and Santu.
Roland jumped out of the driver’s side and ran back to the BMW while Santu shoved himself into the driver’s seat.
Roland grabbed the door handle, which was locked. Inside, Bakasa looked at him with eyes wide in fright. Roland took out his 9mm CZ and pointed it at Bakasa while motioning him to roll down the window.
Bakasa let the window down about six inches.
“I’ll give you my money,” he said in French. “I don’t have a lot.” He started reaching for his wallet.