Read The Lion Killer (The Dark Continent Chronicles) Online
Authors: James S. Gardner
Tags: #Suspense & Thrillers
The Lion Killer (The Dark Continent Chronicles) (24 page)
“What about the girl?” Rigby asked, changing the subject.
“It'll take twenty-four hours to see if she responds to the drug. Rigby, I think we should go back to Zimbabwe.”
“Maybe you're right. Let's see if we can get some answers.”
Helen rounded up Lynn and Jesse. Rigby stood next to the plane watching them walk towards him. When the silence didn't incite a response, he squinted at Jesse through a cloud of cigarette smoke for a few more seconds before speaking. “Before I get myself killed, I thought it might be nice if you two would kindly tell me what's going on. Let's start with you, Spooner.”
“You already know I'm an ATF agent. Lynn thinks I'm here to arrest Arthur Turner, and she's right. Arthur Turner's involved with his father in illegal arms trafficking. If he decides to cooperate, I might be able to help him. We know he's received large sums of money in Uganda. That money's coming from selling weapons.”
“You don't know what you're talking about. I told you, the money has nothing to do with arms trafficking,” said Lynn.
“Okay, Lynn. Why don't you tell them where he got the money?” said Jesse.
“I sent him the money. I've lost track of just how much money, but it has to be around ten million dollars. I transferred most of it through Barclays. I glued thousands in cash between the pages of the medical books I mailed to an address in Kampala. He needed the cash for bribes. It was the easiest way to get money to him.”
Jesse continued to press her. “Where would you get ten million?”
“We've been blackmailing Max. It was Arthur's idea. I got involved as a money courier. Max has been pretending his money's going to Sudanese criminals. He says its ransom money to keep his son alive. By now, I'm sure Max knows everything.” Lynn shivered when she realized what she'd just told them.
“You're on a roll—keep talking,” said Helen.
“Arthur witnessed his mother's murder. It happened on their family yacht—Max threw his wife overboard. He hired therapists to convince Arthur what he'd seen wasn't real. He's kept his mother's death hidden. The Ugandan massacre triggered flashbacks. Arthur's used every dime of that money to help the Sudanese people. Jesse, do you still want to arrest him?”
“I got news for you,” said Rigby. “Nobody's going to arrest anyone unless I go in there and bring him out. That's assuming he wants to get out.”
“You have to get Arthur out before—.”
“Before what?”
“Max hasn't hired you to rescue Arthur. He's hired you to help him kill his son.”
***
Rigby leaned against a tent pole smoking a cigarette. He had been watching Otto and Dutchy struggle to replace the throttle cable. The sounds of the tropical forest were blotted out by the hum of the camp's generator. Helen walked up behind him and put her arms around his waist. “Penny for your thoughts,” she said.
“Sometimes I think you might have been happier married to someone else. Africa's such a mess. The only thing you've seen is misery.”
“My, aren't we gloomy.”
“I keep hoping it'll get better. Deep down, I know I won't live long enough to see it. I'm sorry Helen, you deserved better.”
“Do you really think I'd be content living in Connecticut? I wouldn't have missed this for all the tea in China. After thirty years, you still don't know me, do you?”
Instead of answering, he kissed her on the cheek.
“How's our little girl doing?”
“She's better. It's too early to tell, but it looks like she'll make it.”
“That's great.” He picked at a scab on his shin.
“Stop picking at it,” Helen said.
He rubbed the wound as if he didn't hear her.
“You said you thought we should go back home to Zimbabwe. Do you still feel that way?”
“Don't try to pin this on me. We both know you've already decided to see this thing through.”
He put his arm around her and grinned. “I'm the one who married the wrong person. A man should never marry a woman smarter than himself.”
Spooner stooped to duck into the tent. Helen bristled and pulled away from Rigby.
“Helen, could I speak to your husband?”
“Not before I say my piece. I can forgive you for lying to us, but you've been a real shit to Lynn, pardon my French. Men have taken advantage of Lynn her whole life, but you've taken abuse to a new level.”
Jesse glanced at Croxford, hoping for support, but Rigby stayed out of it. Helen waited for his rebuttal. When he didn't offer one, she got up to leave. “That's all I have to say.” She walked past him, refusing to make eye contact.
Jesse looked sheepish. He waited for Helen to leave before speaking. “Rigby, do you still need me for the rescue?”
“I'd like to do this alone. It's wrong to take Dutchy. He's got a wife and kids, but he'll raise three kinds of hell if I leave him. I need Otto standing by with the airplane. If I need backup, I can get you on the satellite telephone.”
“I can help you with these people,” Jesse argued.
“Don't think that because your skin's a little darker, these people are going to greet you as their long lost brother. I've got news for you, my friend, I was born in Africa. I'm more like these people than you are. Maybe you don't know that, but they do.”
“Look, you're taking this the wrong way. I just thought you could use some help. If you don't need me, I think I'll catch a ride with Otto to Kampala.” Jesse's tone of voice exposed his annoyance.
“Under the circumstances, I think it might be better.”
Jesse walked away, and then turned back around and stuck his head under the tent flap. “For the record, I've loved two women in my life. One's my mother and the other's Lynn Allison.”
“Why haven't you told her?”
“C'mon, Croxford, you of all people should know better. What kind of a life would she have married to me? She deserves better.”
Khartoum
T
he Arabic word Khartoum mean's elephant trunk. An outline of the city resembles the appendage. It's an ancient capital of clay-colored buildings located on the western bank of the Blue Nile. The metropolis forms a triangle with the Great Mosque at its center. Zealots have fought over Khartoum for centuries.
Nelson Chang pulled the curtain back and mentally recited the slogan written on a billboard across the street from the Chinese Embassy. It was a picture of smiling Chinese workers with the words: Your Close Friend and Faithful Partner inscribed at the bottom.
“The book you're reading about Khartoum's history, what have you learned?” Chang asked, turning to his personal assistant.
“Christians and Jews were not allowed within the city limits until 1881. The only Africans allowed in the city were slaves. The Mahdi laid siege to Khartoum in 1885. His dervishes killed the British General, Charles Gordon, and all of the British and Egyptian soldiers under his command. It was a lesson the British couldn't forget. In 1898, they sent Lord Kitchener to avenge the defeat. Khartoum fell to the British.”
“But hadn't the Mahdi already died?”
“Yes, they say he died from consumption. Historians say Scottish troops blew up the sacred tomb and played soccer with his head. Later, Kitchener had an inkwell made from the Mahdi's skull.”
“That's enough history for today. The British are even more savage than these Africans,” Chang uttered. He moved in front of a mirror and straightened his necktie. “What time does the press conference start?”
“In thirty minutes.”
***
Reporters milled around the embassy's conference room. Nelson Chang entered the room through a private door and found a seat in the back. A spokesman thumped the microphone to start the news conference. The Chinese ambassador sat to the right of the moderator. The Sudanese minister of information sat on the left.
The spokesman asked for the first question. A woman approached the microphone. “Mr. Ambassador, the United Nations Security Council recently passed resolution 1564, which threatens Sudan with oil sanctions unless the Sudanese government curbs the violence in the Darfur. As a member of the Security Council, China has vetoed that resolution. Has China become Sudan's chief international protector for selfish reasons? Is it because of Sudan's vast oil reserves?”
“As a member of the world community,” said the ambassador, “of course China deplores the violence in Darfur. But it makes no sense to punish the Sudanese people for the actions of a few misguided criminals.”
“Sir, as many as four hundred thousand Africans may have been slaughtered. Somehow, calling it ‘the action of a few misguided criminals' seems understated.”
The Sudanese spokesman grabbed the microphone. “That number has been grossly exaggerated by known enemies of the Sudanese people. It's true that unfortunately, some people have been killed. I can assure you, my government is doing everything in its power to address this problem. Next question, please.”
“Mr. Ambassador, China has invested fifteen billion dollars in Sudan's petroleum infrastructure. This includes an eleven-hundred-kilometer pipeline linking the Heglig oilfield in the Kordofan province with Port Sudan on the coast. My question is, has the Chinese National Petroleum Corporation made any geological surveys in the Darfur region? Simply put, what is their estimate of the oil reserves in the Darfur? As a part of that question, how many Chinese troops are currently deployed in the Sudan?”
“No comment. Next question please,” said the Sudanese minister.
A reporter in the back of room yelled, “You have committed terrible crimes against humanity.” Sudanese policemen grabbed the reporter and escorted him through a side door.
Chang touched his assistant on the shoulder and nodded at the exit. Bookended by two armed bodyguards, Chang was whisked down the stairs leading to the parking garage. The Land Cruiser waiting for him was wedged in between two Sudanese police Jeeps.
Chang covered his nose with a linen handkerchief as they drove past the camel market. The road was devoid of trucks and cars. An old man wearing a white robe and turban led a camel in the opposite direction.
The Chinese military garrison was located on the outskirts of Khartoum. It was large enough to house the four thousand Chinese soldiers who lived there. The perimeter barricade encircling the compound was a solid fence topped by razorwire. Nelson Chang presented his credentials at the guardhouse. Two armed guards framed the walkway to a building in the middle of the compound. Chang and his two bodyguards were greeted by a uniformed soldier wearing white gloves. They were ushered into a room where General Muhammad Nur and two Chinese military officers had been waiting.
The Chinese officers jumped to their feet and bowed politely, but the general remained seated. Chang said something in Mandarin to the general. The officers looked mortified, but Chang's bodyguards smiled. The Sudanese general looked inconvenienced by the meeting. He picked his nose and wiped the contents on his robe.
“The general's interpreter asked, “Have you enjoyed your stay in Khartoum?” General Nur offered to shake hands, but Chang refused. Instead, he placed a cardboard box wrapped in brown paper in the general's lap.
“Tell him to open it.” Chang said to the interpreter.
The general had been the recipient of countless bribes from the Chinese. He was too impatient to wait for a paperknife. Instead he used his teeth to tear the paper. There was a manila envelope inside. Disappointed, he turned the carton upside down and shook it. A puzzled smile crossed his lips. “The general says he's confused.”
“Perhaps, I should tell him what the correspondence says. The letter is from President Omar al-Bashir. It places the general under my direct authority. It states that if he fails to obey me or if he demands a bribe, I am dutybound to inform his Majesty. He has assured me that he will have the general executed at my convenience. To protect him, I neglected to say that I've already given him a fifty-thousand dollar bribe.”
The general bypassed his interpreter and gushed, “In the name of the Compassionate One, I am your trusted servant. Tell me what you wish me to do.”
“I want you to finish the job I gave you. It's the American living with the Dinka. This man has been blackmailing his own father.”
Chang got up and walked over to a serving table underneath the office window. He filled a tumbler with water. Instead of drinking the water, he handed the glass to the general. “There's an agent of the American government trying to do great harm to me. I have reason to believe this man is in the Sudan. Here's his photograph.” Chang handed Nur a picture of Jesse Spooner.
“As Allah is my witness, I will do as you wish. This time it will be different.”
“I know it will be different. This time, I'm going with you to make sure you keep your promise.”
“Ah, Mr. Chang, you will love the desert. It's truly a magical place.”
“I'll hate the desert just like I hate everything in Africa.”
***