by Brady Hammes
Edwin smiled and tossed the remainder of his sandwich out the window. “Tell me about Osman.”
“I was hoping you could do that,” Jonah said.
“I understand you met with him.”
“I watched him cut a man’s neck, but I never had the pleasure of shaking his hand.”
“This was in Libreville?”
“Yeah.”
Edwin began writing in a small notebook he pulled from his backpack. “Where?”
“An abandoned factory of some kind. Garment factory or something like that.” Aware that he was being cross-examined, Jonah imagined everything he said being repeated back to him in a courtroom. “Am I under arrest or what?”
“Not yet,” Edwin said, continuing to write. “So was it your first time meeting him—this Osman fellow?”
“First and only.”
“He’s involved with Boko Haram,” Edwin said, looking up from his notebook. “They use the ivory to finance their operations.”
“I know. Slinky told me.”
“What else did he tell you?”
“Just that Osman is a savage, which is quite a statement coming from a man who used a dull machete to hack the face off an elephant.”
“But he knows him?”
“He knows of him,” Jonah said. They passed a small village, where a group of men eyed them suspiciously.
“So they don’t work together?” Edwin asked.
“I thought you said you were listening to my phone calls? These were all things he told me—and apparently you—when I spoke to him in Chicago. I know nothing more than what he told me over the phone. Slinky worked with Mateo, the guy who drove me to Libreville, the one Osman killed. Mateo was an employee of my buddy Laurent.”
“Who’s Laurent?”
“That came out wrong,” Jonah said, trying to walk it back. “Laurent isn’t involved in any of this. I want to make that clear. What I meant was that Mateo worked at the bar Laurent owned. It turned out he also moonlighted for Slinky. He’s the one who drove me to Libreville. And he’s the one who met with Osman, though from what Slinky tells me it wasn’t a meeting he’d personally authorized. It sounds like Mateo went behind Slinky’s back and tried to sell the ivory to Osman, but Osman didn’t want to pay for it so he cut his neck.”
“Do you know what he looks like?” Edwin asked.
“Who? Osman?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s an older guy, in his sixties, I’d guess. Walks with a hunch and travels with a big posse. Wish I could tell you more, but like I said, our time together was brief.”
“It’s no mystery that Boko Haram is behind the political unrest,” Edwin said. “They tried to work their way into the government through the election, but their puppet candidate didn’t fare so well. Luckily, the Gabonese people were sharp enough to see through the charade. But I guess when your guy loses by forty points, you lick your wounds by reverting back to what you do best.”
“I’m getting the impression this is about more than a few dead elephants.”
“It is about the elephants, for me at least. But there are many other people involved now, people whose interest in Slinky and Osman goes far beyond elephants.” Edwin slapped Jonah on the shoulder. “You poor sap. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you?”
* * *
—
THEY EVENTUALLY ARRIVED AT a small concrete building hidden in the forest. It looked like a one-room schoolhouse, with an enormous satellite dish perched atop the roof. A uniformed soldier greeted the truck.
“Bonsoir,” Edwin said, shaking the soldier’s hand.
“Il y a eu un incident,” the soldier said. “Venez voir.”
“What kind of accident?” Jonah asked.
Edwin followed the man into the building, while the two rangers sitting up front stepped out for a smoke. Jonah sat in the back seat, watching a deranged rooster hammer at the dirt. He thought about calling Gavin or Sam to see if Laurent had finally shown up, but Edwin had confiscated his phone back at the train station. A few minutes later, Jonah heard the thump of helicopter blades approaching, and he stepped outside and discovered a military chopper hovering above the compound, kicking up a cloud of dust. The pilot touched down in a grassy clearing ringed by a half dozen dirt-colored military jeeps. Edwin appeared from the building and went to join his rangers, who were no longer smoking but standing at attention. As the blades continued spinning, bending the branches of the surrounding trees, a man in a decorated military uniform descended the steps, escorted by three armed soldiers. He was a tall, muscular man with wire-rimmed eyeglasses and a green military beret. Edwin shook the officer’s hand and followed him inside.
“Hey!” Jonah yelled after them, but the men had already disappeared. He looked to the rangers, who had wandered over to chat with the soldiers from the helicopter. “What am I supposed to be doing here?” he yelled in French, but his words were swallowed by the thwack of helicopter blades. The men didn’t seem particularly concerned with his detainment, so he walked to the building where Edwin had gone and pushed open the door. The room was unfurnished save for a small folding table and a weathered Gabonese flag pinned to the wall. Edwin and the officer and a couple soldiers stood around the table, listening to a garbled French voice emanating from a handheld radio. “We’ve got seven confirmed dead, but that number could rise. Casualties are in the dozens. Most are being taken to the local hospital.”
“Are we collecting evidence?” the officer asked.
“We’re doing forensics, but it’s pretty obvious that Edwin’s team was the target.”
“When did it happen?” Edwin asked in French.
“Shortly after one P.M.”
“How does this affect my mission?”
“It doesn’t.”
Edwin looked up and saw Jonah standing in the doorway. “Get out!”
“What’s going on?” Jonah asked.
“I said leave.”
“Tell me what happened!”
Jonah felt an arm around his waist, and then he was being dragged out of the room. “Take him back to the truck,” Edwin yelled.
* * *
—
EDWIN RETURNED THIRTY MINUTES later and joined Jonah in the back seat while the rangers loaded the truck with an alarming cache of weapons. It seemed whatever was about to happen would be violent, though Jonah hoped his involvement would be purely administrative, like a witness fingering a bank robber from behind the safety of one-way glass. A few minutes later, the rangers hopped in the front seat and steered the truck into the forest. It was growing dark now, the headlights splashing across tree trunks. “Tell me what you were talking about in there!” Jonah yelled.
“There was another bombing,” Edwin said, as if it were becoming a regular occurrence.
“Where?”
“Libreville.”
“And you think Osman had something to do with it?”
“It seems pretty likely. But that’s someone else’s concern.”
“What’s your concern?”
Edwin pulled a map from his backpack and spread it across his lap. “Finding Slinky.”
“And you want me to take you to him?”
“Exactly.”
“So I’m the bait?” Jonah asked, disturbed by what he was hearing.
“Don’t think of it like that,” Edwin said, studying the map in the dull glow of the truck’s interior light.
“If you think he’s just gonna roll over, you’re mistaken.”
“I don’t expect him to roll over.” Edwin nodded to the rangers sitting up front. “That’s why I have these guys.”
“So you plan to kill him?”
“Of course not. I never set out to kill anyone, but I’m willing to if that’s what it takes.” Edwin turned to Jonah as i
f he were about to deliver some significant news. “Here’s the thing you should understand about me, Jonah. I’ve spent the last five years of my life chasing people like Slinky for very little reward other than the fleeting sense that my work is making some kind of positive impact. I’ve had two of my guys killed and I’ve personally taken bullets to the leg, shoulder, and stomach, the last of which nearly killed me. Yet every time I apprehend one of these bastards, they pay off some government official and return to the forest a month later. The problem is there’s a low-risk, high-reward structure in place. What do you think Slinky would be doing if he weren’t hunting elephants? He’d be slumming it in the oil fields twelve hours a day like anyone else with a grade school education. He’s no fool. He knows there’s a tremendous amount of money to be made so long as he greases the proper palms. So why not, right? What’s he got to lose? My goal is to correct that type of thinking, make sure people like Slinky understand that there are consequences to their actions. I’m a pretty reasonable guy, Jonah, but there’s nothing that enrages me more than the slaughter of helpless animals. I think you’d probably agree with me on that.”
“Of course,” Jonah said, strangely moved by Edwin’s speech.
“I know quite a bit about you, probably more than you realize. And despite what you’ve done, I do believe your story. But there’s some pretty damning evidence connecting you to Slinky, so unless you want to test your luck in the courts, you’re going to play for our team. Understood?”
Once again Jonah found himself hostage to someone else’s agenda. “Sure,” he said. “Whatever you want.”
“First thing I’d like you to do is call Slinky and set a time for us to meet tomorrow, preferably somewhere remote.” Edwin handed Jonah’s phone to him.
“Now?”
“Please.”
Jonah dialed, hoping for voicemail, but Slinky picked up after a few rings. “Elephant Man,” he shouted into the phone. “You are back. How was everything? You have a nice time in Chicago?”
“I have your money,” Jonah said. “Let’s meet at my camp tomorrow morning like we discussed.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll be there at nine.”
“Very good. I appreciate what you did, Elephant Man. I think maybe you and me, we can do more business together. I’ll make it worth your time, huh?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Okay, sure. We’ll discuss tomorrow.”
Jonah tapped his phone off and looked to Edwin. “Can I make another call? I need to check in with my brother and sister.”
Edwin nodded, and Jonah dialed. After a few rings he was greeted by Gavin’s curt voicemail message, instructing him to leave a brief message. “Call me back,” Jonah said. “Let me know if Laurent showed up. I’ll be there tomorrow if everything goes as planned. I’m sorry about all this. I’ll make it up to you.” He handed the phone back to Edwin.
“I’m curious,” Edwin said. “Why did you drag your brother and sister into this?”
He wanted to explain that he’d intended to get his sister clean, return the money to Slinky, and resume his peaceful existence studying elephants in the wild, but he realized how naïve that sounded. It wasn’t as if he had some grand plan that Edwin had derailed. It was more like a half-baked itinerary sketched on a cocktail napkin in a taxi on the way to the airport. “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this.”
* * *
—
THEY ARRIVED AT LAURENT’S an hour later. Jonah went to retrieve his camping gear, but the door was locked and the place was dark. He hoped maybe they were asleep, exhausted after the long train ride, but Laurent rarely locked the place, and it became clear that his siblings had not arrived. He walked to the house behind the restaurant, where Helen was sitting on the front porch, chatting with a friend. “Helen,” he called, hurrying toward her. “It’s me, Jonah.”
“Jonah,” she said, squinting into the darkness. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m looking for Laurent. Have you seen him?”
“He’s not with you?”
“No,” Jonah said, looking around, hoping he might materialize from the dark.
“He called from the hospital. He was very worried about you.”
“The hospital?” Jonah said. “Why was he at the hospital?”
“Because of the explosion.”
“What are you talking about?”
She stood and walked over to him. “You don’t know?”
“Helen, what explosion are you talking about?”
She shook her head at the tragedy of it all. “There was an explosion at the hotel. The one you told him to go to—where your brother and sister were waiting. Laurent was looking for them when it happened. I thought you were there, no? They took him to the hospital. His leg is broken.”
“So where are Sam and Gavin?” Jonah asked, flushed with panic.
“I don’t know. He couldn’t find them.”
“When did you talk to him?”
Helen shook her head, trying to remember. “Maybe three, four hours ago.”
Jonah felt a rage blooming in his chest. He charged back to the truck and discovered Edwin’s sleeping body pressed against the passenger-side door, which he wrenched open. Edwin rolled out and fell to the dirt. “You fucking liar,” Jonah yelled. “Tell me what the hell is going on!”
The rangers jumped out of the truck and drew their guns, shouting French profanities. Edwin crawled to his feet and ordered the men to lower their weapons. “I nodded off there for a minute,” he said with a sleepy smile.
“You said the explosion was in Libreville. You lied to me.”
“I didn’t want to worry you,” Edwin said, dusting himself off.
“Where are my brother and sister?” Jonah shouted.
“I don’t know. We’re trying to figure that out.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Jonah was pacing, burning with the idea that his siblings might be dead. “How do you not know? How the fuck is this possible, Edwin?”
“There was an explosion at the hotel.”
“I know that! What kind of explosion?”
“A large one,” Edwin admitted. “But there’s nothing that leads us to believe your siblings were injured.”
“But there’s also no proof they weren’t. Or worse.”
“Correct.”
“Have you tried calling the hospital?” Jonah asked. “Have you tried to do anything?”
“I have,” he said with a quiet resignation. “The lines are jammed.”
“Surely, there’s something you can do besides tell me everything is fine! I need more than that.”
“I’m sorry,” Edwin said, and his voice at least suggested he meant it. “I wish I could.”
“Then take me there,” Jonah said, determined to do something.
“The hospital?”
“Yes!”
“You won’t get in. It’s on lockdown for fear of another attack. We’ll get word soon. Until then, all we can do is wait.”
“Fuck!” he yelled, feeling thoroughly useless. He went and sat on the porch of Laurent’s restaurant, the place he’d spent so many afternoons nursing beers, waiting for batteries to charge. Everything that had gone wrong thus far could be classified as a string of inconvenient setbacks, but the news that his brother and sister may have died in the hotel where he’d instructed them to wait was enough to level him. He’d spent the past ten years on college campuses and had learned nothing about what it meant to be a responsible adult. His carelessness had endangered everyone he loved. He put his face in his hands.
“Look,” Edwin said, shining a flashlight at his feet. “I understand you’re worried. I don’t blame you. But I really believe they’re fine. I was told the explosion took place
in the restaurant and most of the fatalities were confined to the kitchen staff. Information is trickling in, and I’ve requested to be notified as soon as we have confirmation that they’re okay. Because I’m certain they are okay. But in the meantime, we still have a job to do, and I need you to focus on the task at hand. We need to get moving.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Jonah said.
“Come on, Jonah. It’s getting late.”
Jonah gathered his camping gear from the restaurant and went back to Edwin and the two rangers, who now had large backpacks hoisted over their shoulders, automatic weapons strapped to the sides. By the light of their headlamps, they set off into the forest, Jonah leading the way. It was never a good idea to hike at night due to the chance of spooking an elephant, and so they filled the silence with their voices. Jonah asked Edwin about the genesis of his organization, which he seemed happy to discuss.
Edwin explained that he had spent two years trying to figure out where ECTF fit in the constellation of wildlife NGOs. He interviewed high-ranking officials at some of the more well-known outfits, and from what he could tell most were a well-intentioned but toothless collection of bureaucrats with an impressive fleet of SUVs. Their offices, which resembled five-star hotels, were fortified complexes situated next to embassies, as far removed from the front lines of the ivory trade as he was from his home back in London. When he inquired about what they were doing to enforce the existing laws against ivory poaching, he was told about the workshops they conducted with government officials, the educational groundwork that had been laid, their strategic ten-year plan.
“Workshops,” Edwin said, shaking his head at the insanity of it. “Poachers are mowing down elephants with machine guns and these idiots are conducting workshops. Can you believe that? If the projections are accurate, there won’t be any elephants left to protect in ten years, yet there’s no sense of urgency from these guys.” Edwin used a machete to hack his way through a tangle of understory creeping across the trail. “ ‘The government is impossible to work with,’ ” he mimicked, in a whiny, nasally voice. “ ‘We can’t tell the government what to do.’ ” He scoffed. “So that’s when I took matters into my own hands.”