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

by David Nees

  There was a long moment of awkward silence.

  “So, what’s the plan going forward? What about Mputu and Dieu?” Marcus asked.

  Dan looked up. His head had been bent down, as if asleep or in deep thought.

  “We’ll go with him. Santu will be the driver. You’ll drop off before the meeting point. Set up firing positions along with retreat routes.”

  “What will you do?” Roland asked.

  “What I do best. I’ll set up on a nearby hill and provide overlook protection. We’ll be in contact with our radios. I can guide you around any soldiers and help you retreat.”

  “You want to take Mputu out? Start a firefight?” Marcus asked.

  Dan shook his head. “Not necessarily. I’m hoping Dieu will use the fetish to strike some fear in Mputu, certainly in his men. If that works, no shots need to be fired and Dieu will have some power to resist Mputu going forward.”

  “And if he can’t?” Marcus asked.

  “I’ll take Mputu out with the first shot. You engage the others. My sniping should pin them down, giving you time to retreat. Tell Dieu what to do if shooting breaks out. He’ll be exposed until you guys can get him to cover.”

  “Sounds dicey,” Roland said.

  “It always sounds dicey,” Dan replied.

  Santu and Dieu came back as Dan had instructed. Dieu called Mputu and told him he would not get to Buniole until the next day. Mputu was not happy and made threats, but Dieu assured him he was trying to find if any hostages remained in Goma before he met with the rebel general.

  Chapter 67

  ___________________________________

  S antu pulled into the intersection and swung the Toyota ninety degrees. The maneuver would allow him to drive away without making a full turn. He was twenty yards away from two pickups, both with machine guns mounted to them. Behind the two trucks were three more parked along the dirt road, next to the vendor stalls.

  The vendors were nowhere in sight. They had left the stalls along with their goods and disappeared. Like everyone else in the village, they supported Mputu, but were all wary of him, knowing his tendency for violence. He provided money for a school and a small clinic, but with the support came intimidation and, sometimes, aggression.

  Mputu stood in front with five of his lieutenants.

  “So, you have finally worked up the courage to come see me,” he said. “Who is this other man with you?”

  “He is my assistant and driver.”

  “Where are my hostages? I told you to bring them.”

  Dieu put his hand in his jacket pocket and gripped the fetish. His fear now gave in to its promise of help and protection.

  “I cannot get them if they have gone. I am not a magician. They all flew out two days ago. Before you called me, I looked for them and talked with many people. The ones at the airport said they all went to Kinshasa. From there, who knows?”

  “You have failed me.”

  “I did not know I was part of your hostage-taking plan.”

  “You talk to me like that? You think you are a big man? You act like one, with your

  driver. You can pay for an assistant and driver? Because you play me against Zhang? Taking money from each of us for your benefit?”

  Dieu could see Mputu’s legendary anger growing. He gripped the fetish even tighter.

  “General Zhang is dead.”

  “I know that.”

  “He and the other man killed with him yesterday were both generals in the Chinese Army.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I am not without my sources. In Goma, news travels quickly.”

  Mputu didn’t respond. Dieu could see he was digesting the news and considering how this would affect his need for Dieu.

  “So, your scheme to play both of us for payment, trying to spread your influence around is over. You will work for me only now. You will turn over leases to me. Zhang is no more, so I will control the mining.”

  Santu nudged Dieu. He understood. If he allowed Mputu to follow this line of thinking, he would get the upper hand and the fetish would turn on him.

  “I control the mining. My minister wants me to do my job.”

  Mputu laughed and walked forward with his men following. Dieu held his ground even as he appeared cowed by the rebel leader’s show of force.

  “You? You are nothing. If I eliminate you, feed you to the crocodiles, I can work directly with the minister, not his deputy.”

  Dieu pulled his fetish out of his pocket. He held it up towards Mputu and his men. The large, white eyes stared at them. The mouth opened wide in a silent scream, or curse. Mputu stopped. He and his men stared at the nearly human figure with its monkey-like hair and its accusing stare.

  “This is my fétiche. It forces me to do my job or it will curse me. It also will protect me from those who want to stop me. Men like you. A powerful sorcerer gave it to me. Bompaka is his name. Do you know of him?”

  Mputu just stood staring at the figure.

  “He is as powerful as your sorcerer. He is ancient, he was alive when the first whites came here. His magic keeps him alive. It will keep me alive…or curse me if I disobey.”

  “And what does that mean?” Mputu seemed to be caught off guard by this turn of events.

  “It means that I no longer let you steal miner’s leases. It means that I have to try to make the mining more productive and not pollute the water. It means that I have to protect the forest.”

  Dieu shook his head.

  “I did not want this gift. I will not make money from this anymore.” He looked directly at Mputu. “But if I refuse, my family and I will be cursed. And if you try to stop me, you will see your flesh start to rot away. Your men will see their flesh rot as well. You will experience it before the curse takes you.”

  *

  Dan reached the top of the hill and found a shooting hide. He picked a spot where the slope fell away too steeply to hold trees. From his position above the drop-off, he could remain in cover, but he had a clear line of sight over the trees below into the village. He placed his backpack on the ground to provide a shooting rest for the Sako. He laid out the magazines for easy grabbing if there was to be a firefight.

  He scoped the distance to the village center where Mputu was waiting and confirmed it was 885 yards. After adjusting the scope for height and distance, he examined the wind both on the trajectory and near the target and made his windage adjustments. He was ready.

  Through the scope he could clearly see Mputu’s face. This was the man who had killed so many, had captured the volunteers, and had chased him and his team through the jungle. It was a face full of violence and danger.

  “In position,” Dan radioed.

  “Check. In position,” Marcus answered.

  “Copy that. In position,” Roland said.

  “Mputu’s got five pickups, three with machine guns mounted. Two of them are pulled up right behind him. The others are parked along the vendor stalls. I see five men standing with Mputu and fifteen back by the trucks. There must be more, but they’re not in sight.”

  “Copy that,” Marcus said. “I’ve got eyes on Mputu. Clear shot at him and the other five.”

  “Ditto that for me,” Roland said.

  “If things get hot, we’ll go on my shot. I’ll take out Mputu. The two of you open up on the five and I’ll try to take out the machine guns. From there, we’ll have to play it as it happens.”

  “Roger that. We take out the five,” Marcus said.

  “Then it’s improvise time,” Roland said.

  “Ready. Here come Santu and Dieu,” Dan said.

  Dieu was holding out the fetish like a shield as he spoke his words. Mputu stood looking at this man. Dieu could see his sudden bold declaration had unsettled the warlord. The men with Mputu looked nervous.

  A smile began to form on Mputu’s face. It was cruel and without warmth.

  “You take me for an ignorant man? I know about the magic. It protects me. I al
so know a fake when I see it.”

  Mputu raised his Kalashnikov in slow motion.

  “Maybe I take your life right now. So my men can see my magic is greater than your sorcerer’s magic.”

  “You risk your life.” Dieu’s voice now cracked with fear, his boldness dissolving before Mputu’s rifle.

  “Here we go,” Dan said into his throat mic. “He’s going to fire on Dieu.”

  Before Mputu could pull the trigger, his head exploded and he collapsed to the ground. Dieu stood frozen, shaking. Not believing what he had just seen. Mputu’s men were frozen as well. There was no sound, only a clap, like thunder, but seeming to come from no direction.

  Then gunfire opened up and the five men went down. The men in the pickups manning the machine guns swung them in an arc, looking for the source of the shooting. Before they could bring their automatic weapons into play, their heads burst open and they dropped to the beds of the pickups.

  Behind the machine gunners, the men were now firing indiscriminately, not knowing where to aim. Unfortunately for them the return fire was deadly accurate. They kept dropping.

  Santu was the first to unfreeze. He grabbed Dieu, who was still holding out the fetish and staring at the dead men in front of him, just yards away.

  “We have to go!” Santu shouted.

  In a daze, Dieu let himself be dragged back to the Toyota. He still held out the fetish. Bullets flew around them, but they were not hit. Mputu’s men kept dropping from the return fire coming from Marcus and Roland. Others were falling from Dan’s silent assault from the hilltop.

  They jumped into the SUV and Santu spun back down on the road. Bullets flew around them. They heard some rounds hit the Toyota, but they didn’t seem to do any damage. Santu turned off the road and was now shielded by the shacks. He sped down the dirt lane and then slid around to the left along another lane. He saw Roland step out from behind a building and wave him down.

  The SUV skidded to a halt and Roland jumped in.

  “Take the next left!” he shouted.

  Santu accelerated down the lane.”

  “Go across the road. We’ll pick Marcus up on the other side.”

  As they crossed the exit route they could hear bullets whizzing past, but none hit the vehicle. They pulled up as Marcus unleashed a full auto burst and emptying his mag. He turned and ran to the Toyota and jumped into the back seat.

  He ejected the spent magazine and inserted a fresh one. Roland clicked his throat mic.

  “We’re all aboard. Time to go.”

  “You guys bug out. I’m going to stay and keep them pinned down. I can disable their pickups so they won’t be able to follow.”

  “We ain’t leaving you, buddy,” Roland said.

  “You can’t wait. It’ll take me ten minutes to get to you. You can come back and pick me up later down the road.”

  “Negative,” Marcus said. “You take out the trucks. Then get going. The Toyota will be near where we dropped you off. Roland and I will work our way back to it and meet you there.”

  “Just go.”

  “Negative. No time to talk. Take out the trucks and get going. We’re on it.”

  Marcus nodded to Roland and they got out of the SUV.

  “You know where we dropped Dan off?”

  Santu nodded.

  “Go there, pull the Toyota off the road. You’ll be out of the firefight. We’ll come to you and we’ll all go when Dan arrives. Got it?”

  Santu nodded. Marcus slapped the side of the truck and he and Roland headed back towards the shooting.

  Chapter 68

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  O nce Marcus and Roland left their positions, no sound of incoming gunfire could be heard by the rebel soldiers. Yet they kept dropping. Anyone who ventured out from behind one of the trucks, or who came out of one of the shacks, was dropped. After a few minutes of eerie silence only punctuated by a clap of sound right after one of their comrades fell dead, the soldiers realized there was a sniper shooting at them.

  The knowledge didn’t help. The killer was unseen, somewhere far away. One rebel finally decided the shots were coming from the far hillside, way beyond the reach of their carbines. And no one wanted to risk trying to bring the machine guns into action.

  Some of the men slipped away to go after the other shooters, who had now gone quiet. They took a circuitous route to avoid exposure to the far-off hill.

  Dan steadily acquired his targets and dropped them. For a while it was like a shooting gallery in a county fair.

  He kept feeding the Sako with fresh magazines. He knew the barrel was getting hot. It could handle five or six mags at a time, but more was asking a lot of the weapon. Then the targets dried up. The rebel troops had figured out there was a sniper at work and were now staying under cover and moving to close off his retreat.

  Then he saw some figures dash across a small open space.

  “You got some enemy coming your way. Maybe four or more.”

  “Roger that,” Marcus said. “We’re near my position, closer to your hill. Are they to our right or left?”

  “To your left. Looks like they’re heading to where Roland had set up.”

  “Copy that. Now get the hell off that hill.”

  “Let me work on the pickups and then I’m gone.”

  Dan was down to his final two mags and shot out the left side tires on all the pickups. For good measure, he put his remaining rounds into the hoods of the trucks. The .338 Lapua Magnum round would not do the same damage as a .50 caliber. That round could penetrate an engine block. Dan hoped the .338 would hit something vital like an injector or ignition component and disable the engine.

  When he had emptied the last magazine, Dan pocketed them and slipped back from his shooting hide. He shouldered the Sako, being careful to not touch the barrel, and started back down the hill and away from the village.

  His scrambling descent, on his butt as much as on his feet, brought him quickly to the base of the hill.

  “I’m down. Heading for the rendezvous.”

  “Roger that,” Marcus said. “Roland just left to set up a reception for the rebels coming our way. I’m going to follow. Head to the Toyota. We’ll see you in a few minutes.

  Dan jogged his way towards the pickup point. He heard Kalashnikov’s rattling away. From the controlled sound, he knew it was Roland and Marcus springing their surprise on the rebels. There was some sporadic return fire and then it went silent.

  As Dan had gotten off the hill, a rebel who had worked his way to the right stepped out from behind a shack. Dan dove for a ditch as the AK opened up. The bullets zipped past with their deadly sound. One tore through his left bicep and flung him into the ditch. His right knee hit a rock with a loud crack.

  A sharp rush of pain shot out from his arm and knee. The ditch saved him from being killed, giving him a moment of safety from the shooter, as he dropped out of sight. Ignoring the pain, Dan squirmed to his back and pulled out his 9mm. He’d have only one chance; a brief moment to fire when the shooter came into sight. After that, he’d be riddled with multiple 7.62 rounds.

  He steadied his breath, trying to not focus on the pain. He had a firm grip on the pistol and watched. He heard the rustling of boots coming through the grass and dirt. The shooter was searching for him as he approached.

  His head appeared. The man was looking to his left and a fraction of a second passed before his eye noticed Dan to his right. That fraction was fatal. When the rebel’s head appeared, Dan loosed three shots and the man dropped dead just as he noticed Dan lying in the ditch.

  Dan let out a long sigh. Now he assessed his body. The round had torn through his bicep but hadn’t hit the brachial artery which was on the inside of his arm. It had pierced his upper bicep and possibly the deltoid muscle, making his left arm useless. His right knee was beginning to swell and he probably wouldn’t be able to walk on it in a few minutes.

  Got to get out of here, before more come. He had only his
9mm, which put him at a severe disadvantage. He lurched to his feet, grunting with the pain and started hobbling to the pickup point.

  Some painful minutes later Dan arrived at the SUV. Santu was sitting in the driver’s seat, looking around nervously. Dieu was staring straight ahead, his eyes wide with fear, still clutching the fetish.

  “What happened?” Marcus asked.

  “Got ambushed. The guy worked his way around to the right of your position and jumped me as I got off the hill.”

  “Get in the back,” Marcus said. “Santu, get us out of here.”

  Roland put Dan’s sniper rifle in the back and then jumped in with Marcus and Dan.

  “Let’s go!” Roland shouted.

  Marcus cut off a piece of Dan’s shirt and took part of it to bind the wound.

  “That’ll hold you until we get back to Goma. We’ll have to get you to a hospital and clean out the wound.”

  Dan shook his head. “No hospital. That exposes us.”

  “You can’t run around with an untreated bullet wound. You risk losing your arm before we get back.”

  “Got to be another way.”

  “Some of the people Yvette and me ran into at the bars were doctors and nurses volunteering in Goma. Maybe they could help,” Roland said.

  “I can ask around,” Santu called out from the front.

  “I know of some. I’ll get one to fix you,” Dieu said. He turned around to look at the men in the back. His face was flushed and he had a strange look in his eyes.

  “You all right?” Roland asked.

  “It works,” Dieu said in an excited voice.

  “What works?” Roland asked.

  “The fétiche. No bullets hit us.”

  Roland chuckled. “We worked. We killed them faster than they could get organized to come after you.”

  Dieu shook his head. “Non, non. The bullets flew but they didn’t hit us. The truck was hit, but not us.”

  Marcus looked over at Roland and shook his head.