The Lion Killer (The Dark Continent Chronicles) (27 page)
Read The Lion Killer (The Dark Continent Chronicles) Online
Authors: James S. Gardner
Tags: #Suspense & Thrillers
“Well, it was a lovely gesture. Don't you agree, Dutchy?”
“Jesse looks more like a Zulu,” the Dutchman bellowed.
“We could use some Zulu warriors, right about now,” said Rigby.
***
The landscape turned crueler as they drove eastward. They had been driving for ten hours when Dutchy noticed the feathery wisps of campfire smoke on the horizon. Rigby turned to a more southerly heading. A short time later, he spotted the sand dunes that overlooked the camp.
He stopped at the base of the dunes. “All right boys, this is as far as we go. Let's climb so we can get a looksee.”
They waded up in the heavy sand and crawled the last few feet on all fours. The men slithered up to the edge and looked down at the camp. Rigby used his binoculars to scan the area. He whispered to Spooner. “It looks harmless enough. Keep an eye on me. If I drop my weapon and hold up my hands, you'll know it's not going well. Wish me luck,” he said. He stopped and turned to face them. “Jesse, remember our agreement. Make sure the girls get back to Zimbabwe. Dutchy that goes for you too.” He took a deep breath and rolled over the edge.
Spooner re-focused the binoculars on Rigby as he watched him struggle down the slope. He scanned the tents and tarpaulin-covered lean-tos. The area was teeming with hundreds of Africans. Many of them huddled around the cooking fires. A few boys played soccer. Older boys tended a small herd of goats and some hollow-rumped cows.
The children saw Rigby first. They ran away screaming. Tall African men poured out of the tents and started to climb up to meet him. Two of the men were carrying old rifles. Everyone in the camp was pointing and yelling. Spooner handed the binos to Dutchy and picked up his rifle. He zeroed in on the man closest to Rigby. He pushed the safety off and set the crosshairs on the man's head.
“Whatdayathink, shall I drop him?” Before Dutchy could answer, Rigby turned around and waved. Jesse let out a sigh. “That was close.”
It took thirty minutes to drive around the dunes. By the time they arrived at the camp's barbedwire gate, it was almost dark. Cheering children and old women gathered around them as they climbed out of the truck. Rigby stood between a white man and a young African couple. He was not smiling.
“Jesse Spooner, Dutchy Bosshart, this is the elusive Mr. Arthur Turner. And these are his friends, Abel and Tabitha Deng.” Both men stepped forward and shook hands with Arthur and Deng.
Arthur Turner was distinguished-looking with affable blue eyes. There was an aura of serenity about Turner that Jesse found puzzling given the chaos of his surroundings. When Jesse noticed Rigby's dire expression, he realized something was wrong.
Rigby put his hand on Arthur's shoulder before speaking. “Mr. Turner has just informed me that he has no intention of leaving the Darfur. As a matter of fact, he says he's prepared to die here. And if the information I just received from the young Mr. Deng here is correct, he may get his wish in short-order.”
Turner motioned for them to step into his tent. “I'd like to offer you a drink, but the best I can do is warm water.”
A young girl ran out of the crowd and latched onto Rigby's leg. He reached down and picked her up. She was the girl his wife had treated for sleeping sickness. He handed the girl back to her mother. The woman pressed a gift in Rigby's hand.
Once they were inside, Turner continued. “There's no need to upset these people. They've suffered enough. At this point, I'm not sure much can be done for them. We've survived attacks in the past, but we hear this one will be brutal. Gentlemen, these people think you're here to save them.”
“What's he talking about?”Spooner asked.
Rigby outlined what Abel and Tabitha had told him. The Janjaweed was planning a massive attack on the refugee camp. In twenty-four hours, three groups of armed militiamen would sweep into the defenseless camp from three directions. They would charge their war camels and decorated horses into the tented city, killing as many Africans as possible. To make it even more horrifying, the Sudanese military had provided three Chinese attack helicopters.
Jesse glanced at the crowd gathered outside. All of them were dressed in rags. Many of them leaned on walking-sticks. Their lives were so bleak, yet they appeared hopeful.
When Turner spoke, his words were strangled with emotion. His beleaguered expression was illuminated by a campfire. “Mr. Croxford, you need to take your friends and leave. The Arabs usually attack in the afternoon. Just be sure to tell the rest of the world what they're doing to us.”
When Croxford spoke, it was as if Turner's warning hadn't registered. “So Deng, how many Arabs were in the group you encountered?”
“About fifty,” he answered, glancing at Tabitha for confirmation. She agreed.
“So that's one hundred and fifty Arabs, plus the three helicopters. Boys, I guess the odds could be worse, although I don't see how. Jesse, at first light you get in the Rover and hightail it out of here. This is more than you bargained for. I won't think any less of you.”
“Does that mean you're staying?” asked Turner.
Jesse stepped forward before Rigby could open his mouth. “Mr. Turner, we're all staying.”
Croxford shook his head and grinned at Jesse. “Just when I think I've got you figured out, you throw me a bumper. Don't look so dumb-founded, a ‘bumper' is a term we use in the great game of cricket.”
“I need one of your cigarettes.”
“I didn't know you smoke.”
“I never have, until now.”
“I've got a bottle of whiskey under the front seat. Spooner, it looks like I'm gonna make a proper African out of you yet.”
***
Rigby, Dutchy and Jesse marched around the camp perimeter twice before daylight. The desert morning was crisp in the predawn darkness and the sand was still dewy. As the light broke, Rigby spotted a snake eagle soaring high above the dunes searching for geckos. He started to identify the bird for Jesse, but hesitated. By the time he turned around, the bird had vanished in the smoky haze.
The men attracted a mob as they inspected the camp's defenses, or lack thereof. The refugees chattered optimistically and seemed almost giddy. Their spirits had been buoyed by the men's interest in their welfare. When they arrived back at Turner's tent, he was already busy treating sick Africans. Tabitha handed them mugs of hot tea.
“Good morning, Arthur. I trust you slept well,” said Rigby. “And you, Mr. Croxford, how did you sleep?” Turner answered, tearing a long strip of surgical tape from its roll. “I've never had a better night in my life. I could get accustomed to living in the desert. What about you, Jesse?” “I'm getting that queasy feeling again. Helen warned me about your exuberance.” “I have surveyed the upcoming battleground and I've found a flaw in the Arab's battle plan,” Rigby said. “How do you even know their plan?”
“The key is in the terrain. Think about it, Spooner, an army of three outnumbered by one hundred and fifty bloodthirsty, screaming Arabs. And Spooner, you will have been a part of it.”
“I can hardly wait,” said Jesse.
Croxford walked to a sandy spot in front of the tent and drew an outline of the camp. At one end he heaped a pile of sand to replicate the sand dunes. He pulled Dutchy forward and pointed at the sand map. “Dutchy, assume you were a Janjaweed commander. From what direction would you attack?” The Dutchman looked down at the map and scratched his head. “I would come from this direction and trap the Africans against the dunes.”
“Don't you see? They're the ones who'll be trapped.”
“I'm sorry,” said Jesse, “I don't get it.”
“Don't worry, it'll all come together. Gentlemen, let's get to work.”
***
Abel called for the Dinka men who owned firearms to assemble. A dozen tribesmen came forward with five antique rifles and seven shotguns. The women, children and elderly who were physically able to run would gather at the base of the sand dunes at the first sign of the Arabs. Tabitha took charge of those too weak to walk, directing them to hollow out shallow bunkers under their tents. Arthur Turner suspended his medical duties to lead a work detail digging trenches at the foot of the dunes. Spooner and Croxford climbed to the crest and dug two foxholes twenty meters apart, connected by a ditch.
As Jesse watched the preparations unfold, he realized Rigby's strategy was brilliant. If the Arabs took the bait and attempted to trap the Africans against the sand dunes, they would find themselves targets in a perfect field of fire. The militiamen used the weapon of choice for most Third World countries, the AK-47. It was an ideal weapon for close combat, but no match for the long range of the M-24 rifles. They would also be disadvantaged by trying to shoot uphill from galloping camels and horses. Rigby had carefully estimated the height of the dunes and found the distance to be beyond the accurate range of the Kalashnikovs. If things went according to plan, the defenders would wreak havoc on the Arabs with total immunity. There was only one stumbling block: the attack helicopters.
It was no secret, that the success or failure of the plan lay squarely on Spooner and Dutchy. They would be firing the fifties, and would have to disable the helicopters. If they could shoot one down, the remaining helicopters might turn and run.
Jesse practiced aiming the Barrett at one of the tents below. Thinking about the imminent violence made him feel weak. He distracted himself by thinking about Lynn.
***
When Lynn heard the thumping of a helicopter, her heartrate quickened. She watched the helicopter turn back up into the wind, hover and then momentarily disappear in a dust cloud before touching down. Max and two people exited the Jet Ranger before its rotor stopped. Otto hobbled down the makeshift runway to meet Max and the woman with him. A second man lagged behind, struggling with some duffel bags.
As soon as they were clear of the rotor, the pilot increased the throttle. The helicopter lifted off, dipped its nose and headed back in the direction of Uganda. It took them a few minutes to walk from the far end of the dirt airstrip to the tents. Helen whispered, using her hand to block the sound. “Lynn, he's got your sister with him. God, I wish my husband was here.”
“Good morning, Dr. Croxford,” said Max, looking over the top of his sunglasses. “Sorry to pop in on you like this, but I've been worried sick. Otto tells me your husband isn't here.”
Helen's response was interrupted by Lynn, who ran forward to embrace her sister. Max glared at the two women as they walked hand in hand behind the tents.
“Mr. Turner, I'm expecting my husband anytime now. Hopefully, he'll have your son with him.”
“Otto says the refugee camp is a short flight from here. You wouldn't object if we fly out and make sure everything's running smoothly. I've endured this nightmare for so long, I'd like to be reassured. I'm sure you understand.” Max appeared distracted and moved away from Helen to look over her shoulder at the sisters. He studied them for a few seconds before speaking. “Oh Dr. Croxford, I almost forgot, I don't know if you remember Bob.”
Reluctantly, Helen accepted his handshake. “I think you met my husband in the Bahamas.” Bob's grin disappeared.
“My husband gave explicit instructions. He wanted Otto to stand by in case there's an emergency.”
“Nonsense. You can use my satellite telephone to contact your husband,” he said, nodding at Bob, who showed her the phone.
Max put his arm around Helen and started her in the direction of the plane. “Well now, I guess we've fixed that little bump in the road. Otto, get the plane ready. Bob, if you'll get the girls, we can be on our way. Please, after you,” Max said to Helen, picking up her medical bag.
***
General Nur pointed at a herd of elephants browsing on an island in the Sudd. The dominant bull whirled around to challenge the strange noise. He shook his ears and trunk like a dog shaking off water. The rest of the herd encircled him. In Arabic, Nur instructed his helicopter pilot to make a low pass. Chang gave him a thumbs-up response, but showed little enthusiasm. He reclined his head and closed his eyes. One hour later, the pilot flared to land in the middle of an Arab militia camp.
Ali Osman stooped to avoid the whirling rotor blades and helped General Nur and Nelson Chang exit the helicopter. The men came forward and gathered around them. Nur waited for the whining turbine to winddown before speaking. “In the name of Allah, today you will destroy the black seed that has soiled our beloved country. You are doing God's work by exterminating the defilers. Feel no remorse in killing the infidels. Spare no woman or child, as their offspring will continue to plague this land.
“This man is a friend of the Sudanese people,” he continued, introducing Nelson Chang. “We will pay each of you twenty thousand dinars for the work you will do today, and we will pay the additional sum of two hundred thousand dinars to any man who brings us proof that he has killed one of these two Americans.” He passed out pictures of Arthur Turner and Jesse Spooner. “The Americans are sworn enemies of Islam.”
The assembled Arabs fired their weapons in the air and gave a trilling ovation. Osman dispersed his men and turned to Nur. “A scout has informed me the American known as the
Khawadja
is with the savages. The camp is undefended. The Prophet himself could not have designed a better place to trap the
Zurgas
. In the name of Allah, I pledge my life. My men will corner them like rats and cut them to pieces. If it pleases the general, I would like to postpone the attack until tomorrow morning.”
“Why not attack now?”
“Our camels and horses will have better footing in the wet morning sand. And the rising sun will be at our backs. They will be expecting an afternoon raid. Better to surprise them.”
Nur was conflicted by different motivations. The attraction of a soft bed and his mistress in Khartoum was potent. He was about to over-rule Ali when he envisioned Nelson Chang spending the night in the desert. He could almost hear him complaining. Witnessing Chang suffer was too good to pass up.
Nur's disfigured face twisted badly as he addressed Ali. “Osman, I may have underestimated your abilities. Your plan is excellent. I couldn't have designed it better myself. When this is finished, you should consider a career in the Sudanese Army. I have a place for a man with your talents.”
“I will order some of my men to construct a place for your sleeping,” Osman offered.
“Nonsense, we shall sleep under the stars with the rest of the men.” The general laughed inwardly at the thought of Nelson Chang sleeping in the open.
“Sir, I hope I can live up to your expectations.”
“Let's pray your raid is successful. Your life depends on it.” Nur smiled at Osman stroking his sidearm.
***
Croxford and Spooner inspected the camp from the highest sand dune. Jesse pointed at Dutchy, who was leading a native towards them. There was a rope tied around the man's neck. They were followed by a dozen Dinka tribesmen. The camp women were yelling insults and making obscene gestures at the man. The native who was the object of their taunting was a toad of a man with bowed legs. Clearly, he had suffered a beating. The Dinka men appeared ready to kill him.
“What's this about?” inquired Rigby. “This man's a Murle,” the big Dutchman said, jerking on the man's leash. “Someone caught him making love to a goat.”
“What? You must be kidding.” With that, Spooner and Croxford burst out laughing. Tears ran down their cheeks. Dutchy and Rigby hunched over, holding their sides. The Dinka men were not amused. They failed to find humor in this vilest of human indecencies.
“What in God's name do they want me to do?” Rigby asked, trying to act serious.
“I'm not sure,” said Dutchy. “I guess perform a marriage.” His remark triggered another bout of uncontrollable laughter. The frowning tribesmen tightened their circle. The commotion attracted more curious onlookers. Upon learning of the man's sin, they also became enflamed. Rigby realized the offender's predicament was grave.
“Will the owner of the violated goat please come forward?” Rigby yelled. He looked away trying to regain his composure. The owner of the goat was pushed to the front of the crowd. He appeared saddened, but seemed to relish his role as the injured party.
“Since you're the plaintiff in this felonious enterprise, it's only fitting that you should pass sentence on this man,” he declared, giving the goat rapist's leash a jerk. “Speak up. What do you want us to do with him?” Rigby had to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing. He glanced at the perpetrator. The accused looked pitiful but, oddly, not overly embarrassed by his deviant behavior.
The goat owner shrugged his shoulders in resignation. Someone in the back of the crowd shouted, “As the father of the goat, you should demand a dowry.” The man's comment caused an eruption of laughter among the Africans. The giggling started slowly, but escalated into hysteria. The people weakened by malnutrition laughed until they were exhausted. Satisfied, the villagers staggered back down the dune. Rigby released the goat violator, banishing him from the camp. The refugees had been sitting on pins and needles. They needed something to defuse the tension, and it had happened.
The dunes merged into the shadows as the sun began to set.
***
Rigby watched Otto's Cessna zoom overhead. As the airplane circled to land, he ran down to find Spooner and Dutchy. The Italian nurse and hundreds of camp children rushed out to meet the plane as it shut down on the far end of the airstrip. Rigby lagged back until he saw his wife and Max Turner emerge from the crush of the crowd.
Otto shrugged his shoulders at Rigby. “Don't look at me like that. I didn't have a say in this.”
“I'll deal with you later. How much time do we have before it's too late to take off?”
Otto glanced at the sun and said, “thirty minutes at best.”
“Otto, did you see the Arab encampments?”
“It looks like they're getting ready to move at first light.”
“If I were leading the raid, that's the way I'd do it,” Rigby stated.
Rigby moved to the head of the crowd and whistled to focus their attention. “All right, listen up. Max, you and your daughter-in-law step into that tent. Your son's waiting for you. Helen, you and Lynn come with me and Jesse. Otto, get your plane turned around and ready to fly the hell out of here. Dutchy, your job is to keep an eye on him,” he said, nodding at Max's bodyguard, Bob.
“I'm giving the orders here,” said Max. “Maybe you've forgotten who's footing the bill for this operation.”
“I could forgive you for showing up unannounced, but putting my wife and Lynn in danger is unforgivable. I'm gonna say this one time, and one time only. You will do as I say or I'll deal with you in ways—Max, it won't be pretty.”
Max Turner mumbled and looked to his bodyguard for support. Bob raced forward to defend his boss, but Dutchy stepped in front of him. When Bob stepped to the side, Dutchy also moved. He wagged his finger in Bob's face like he was reprimanding a child. “Do you want me to break his neck?” he asked, grinning.
‘‘We need him for tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? What's so special about tomorrow?” Helen asked.
“Not now, Helen. We're running out of time.”
The ensuing quarrel between Rigby and his wife was like a new song scored to old music. She went through the half-hearted motions of trying to convince him to abandon the refugee camp, but deep down she knew he wouldn't leave the Africans. His final words to her were “Besides you, Africa's the only thing I ever loved. You know I can't leave these people. If I did run, you'd end up not liking what I would become. I know I wouldn't.”
Helen tried to persuade Rigby to let her stay with him, but that also failed. She kissed him and ran to the idling airplane.
Lynn tried the “this isn't your fight routine” on Jesse, but she also realized it wouldn't work. He told her he was staying and ended the discussion. He walked her out to the airstrip. Otto motioned impatiently for Jesse to bring his last passenger. The window for his takeoff was closing.
Arthur Turner waited for his father. He clasped his hands together to stop the trembling. He heard his pulse throbbing in his ears. He had dreamed about confronting his father, and now that the time had arrived, he felt sickened. Max entered the tent with his son's wife, Ashlyn, in tow. He hugged his son, but there was an antiseptic stiffness to the embrace. Ashlyn hung back in the shadows.
They stood frozen, sizing each other up. Each one was reluctant to speak first. Arthur thought time hadn't changed his father's looks, only deepened his wrinkles. Max sensed his son seemed more self-assured; it annoyed him, and, as much as he tried to hide his annoyance, he couldn't.
Max's voice sounded cool and impersonal. “How're you feeling, son? I know you've been through a lot, but you have no idea what this has done to me. I've got the best psychiatrists in the world standing by to treat you. They believe someone has been manipulating you. Call it brainwashing, whatever you want. You were always a sickly child. I'm here to protect you like I've always done.”
Arthur held up his hand to stop his father. “What are you really doing here?”
“I've come to take you home, son. Tell me you're ready to end this madness?”
“Do you really think I'd risk becoming a despicable bastard like you?”
“You mean a despicable bastard who spent millions keeping you alive?”
“No, I mean someone who stole millions from his clients. Someone who'd do anything to avoid giving his wife, my mother, a decent settlement. My God, you've got no idea how long I've waited to say those words.”
“You're delusional. Your ordeal has driven you to the brink of insanity.”
“Can't we end this charade? Ask her if I'm crazy.” Arthur glanced at his wife.
Ashlyn walked away from Max and put her hand on Arthur's shoulder. He put his hand on top of hers. There was no need for her to answer. Max squirmed under her glare. He shook his head in disgust. “Arthur, there are things about her you need to know, sordid things about her background. I've got it all documented. I tried to protect you from the truth. Did you know she's been blackmailing me? You heard me. I could have had her arrested, but I didn't want anything to get in the way of your rescue. It's all in these,” he said, holding up some letters. “Here, read them if you don't believe me.” There was desperation creeping into his voice.