Natives Visit
For the natives, the Tent City Tour started at the stone cottage. They briefly walked in, looked around and left. They saw where the black pitchblende had been roped off. Rishi joined the group, and explained that dark material put off rays that were harmful. He further stated why animal bones grew near the black soil, and not vegetation. The natives did not say much.
Bruny introduced himself, as did everyone except the military men. Isaac introduced himself using the pygmy language he knew and found, to his surprise, the natives understood much of what he said. The expedition had constructed a long table at which the guests were seated. Bruny poured a plastic cup of palm wine. The guest sipped the wine, and smiled at the vague attempt to duplicate their homemade brew.
Before the hosts served the meal, Bruny talked to the natives through Rishi. He said he was pleased the natives were going to allow mining of minerals there. He spoke of wanting peace, with assurances of providing whatever food they needed. Bruny proclaimed he did not want to pollute the river, disturb the villages or their way of life. He asked how much food they needed and how they would want it delivered.
Kombutu explained they would need help at certain times of the year when there were no crops and finding food was hard for them. Between the two chiefs, together they represented nine villages and over one hundred natives. Bruny said if the chiefs approved, he would deliver the food at the riverbank, once a village representative came with a request. Bruny proposed constructing a log house on the opposite bank, that he would keep supplied with canned goods and other items. Both chiefs thanked him, but declined the offer.
Charlie and Carol frowned when Bruny offered the constant supply of food, but smiled when the native chiefs refused the offer. There was a genuine desire to help them, but an intrusion into their life styles would surely affect the natural order of things. The natives realized the offer was more than they needed or wanted.
The pork and honey was served to their delight. They tried baked potatoes, corn, sliced tomatoes, and a salad with spinach and other greens. They appeared to like everything, especially the wine. When they left, all had to be helped down the ladders, and the canoe ended up being paddled in less than a straight line. The natives carried a lot of food back with them and agreed to come back if invited. They were looking forward to Charlie and Carol’s visit. Both ladies were worried that the support already given and future deeds would diminish their unique jungle culture.
As always, the group from the Dominican Republic met around the table, drinking as if they were fraternity partygoers. Lu spoke up first.
“Charlie, we have seen your beautiful body, and now we want to see your gorgeous face come out of hiding. Sooooooo—you are going to get a makeover in the city compliments of Lucero Zacharius,” Lu said.
“You don’t have to do that,” Charlie said.
“We need an excuse to get out of Fort Apache and be pampered. Even though Kisangani isn’t California wine country, we have found a beauty shop and spa attached to a large hotel. We are going to raid it day after tomorrow in a helicopter. You do know I am supposed to be on vacation,” Lu said, waving her arms around like she was going to round up cattle but meant to imitate a helicopter.
“I completely forgot about the vacation thing! Do we still have a room at Abu camp?” Angel asked.
“It’s for sure as hell I don’t have a room,” Zoe said.
“Bitchy little spy. You are going with us. My treat,” Lu said.
“If you’ve got a minute, Lu and I want to talk to you and Roland,” Chris said. He put his arm around them both, and took Lu’s hand. He moved the four of them over by the water, so he could talk to them in private.
“We want to help you with your hotel. You are missing a marvelous business opportunity with all the workers there. And believe me, they will be there for frigging ever,” Chris said. He pointed to the water still lit by dive lights.
“Oh, my God!” Lu said.
“Shit. We left those blown up rubber gloves giving everyone the finger, and the inflated condoms, floating right in front of our native guests,” Zoe said.
“I think they were too sloshed to notice. Anyway I hope so,” Lu said.
“Roland, what do you think?” Chris asked.
“Chris, you have no concept how much I appreciate your offer. Zoe and I were idiots to have accepted a spying job. We were desperate to get back to normal. If you help us, it will only be a loan. That is all I was asking for at our bank. The place was doing well before the earthquake and will do well for a while. We might sell it in the future, but either way you will be paid back in full.”
“Good. That’s settled. Now, Zoe, when do I get to borrow Roland?” Lu said, laughing. Chris put her in a headlock then kissed her on the back of her neck.
“To get started, I will call my bank in Santo Domingo tomorrow, and they will call your bank in Port au Prince,” Chris said. “I’m guessing they have all the construction plans you presented…name of the contractor and all that?”
“Barclays has it all,” Roland said.
“Perfect. This will be easy—I use Barclays too.”
“Want me to get involved and get everyone off their asses?” Lu said.
“No way! Roland and Zoe might need these people in the future.” He knew Lu would rain down fire on anyone not moving ninety miles an hour.
“Hey! You guys planning a revolution over there?” Mit yelled as he moved towards a make shift bar.
“Yes! We just enacted a non-German zone around the bar,” Lu said not realizing that she was assisting in the breaking out of somewhat dark German humor.
“Too late. This Nazi has arrived to enforce the selective drink rule. I select who drinks and who doesn’t. Right now, you must have been a part of a country ruled by Hitler, or a former Jansen swim suit model. No one else is qualified.”
In a strong German accent, Mit apologized with weak sincerity.
“Ha! In diesem fall mein Fuerhrer sie dick kopf bitte mix mit dieser hure einen woodka tonic,” Gretchen said. She had now broken through enemy lines and apparently joined the Nazi party, in order to get her drink.
Mit became unglued and laughed so hard, he could barely fix her drink. Gretchen had a slight smile on her face, but really needed a drink after helping build showers and latrines all day.
“Okay. My German is weak, what did she say Mit?” Angel said.
“In this case, my Fuehrer, you dick head; please fix this whore a vodka tonic.”
There was general laughter, which continued into the night. Carol, Charlie, Peter and Sony joined them, and Gretchen had to repeat her famous line for them. There were snacks left from dinner and plenty of booze. They did not really feel, at least on this night, that they were in the African Congo. Rather, they were at just another party with good friends.
Creeping along the narrow logging road, Bahati’s men were in the truck that led to the spot where the four expedition vehicles were parked. He had been told they stopped at about nine miles in, and he wanted to give a two mile sound buffer before he sent his two commando types ahead. Finally the truck stopped. The driver nodded to Bahati and pointed to the odometer. From somewhere in the truck two men emerged with night vision goggles, flak jackets, and sniper rifles. They disappeared quickly in the darkness. Bahati had his men take a knee and wait either for their return or a radio signal.
Isaac left two of his men to guard the vehicles. Since nothing happened other than forest buffaloes marching through their campsite, they had relaxed any pretense of being vigilant.
One of the guards was asleep in a tent. The other sat in the rear truck, snoring and slumped over his weapon. One of the intruders reached up, put his hand over his mouth until he made no sounds, and slit his throat. The other attacker went to the tent, unzipped it, and poked the soldier encased in his sleeping bag.
“What de fok!” he yelled, before he realized he was under attack. Since he had an automatic rifle pointed at his face, he didn’t bother to grab his weapon.
The commando was joined by his partner who had called in to Bahati. They tied up the guard, and put him in a folding chair in the beam of the headlights of one of the trucks. Not long afterwards, the leader of these UCFF forces stood over this man, asking questions. They spoke a common language, so Bahati assured him he would not be harmed if he cooperated. The soldier knew he was a dead man, whether he talked or not. He wouldn’t tell them anything for a while. Bahati’s men removed the car battery from one of the trucks, and hooked a jumper cable to the battery. They instructed the soldier to stand, pulled down his pants and underwear, and forced him back into the chair. They tied the man to the chair, while others poured water on his groin area.
“Mr. Soldier, do you like your balls? How about your dick? If you tell me what I want, you may keep these items. I need to know where these soldiers went—how many—their weapons. I need to know what they are mining for and what they have found. You know these things because you have a radio. Will you tell me now?” Bahati held the cable and the spring loaded clamps and clicked them together, sending enough sparks to briefly light up the jungle. The truck was started, so the full voltage ran freely through the clamps.
“Fok you,” he said, and screamed. Two clamps tore into his testicles, sending burning voltage and amperage through his body. He almost fainted, but held on.
This was taking too long for Bahati. After the second shock, he decided to remove the soldier’s fingers one at a time. A bloody affair, but usually effective. Bahati asked which finger he wanted cut off first. The soldier had a look of horror in his face.” We will start with the little finger,” Bahati said. “Jambi! Bring me a wooden board.”
Bahati pleaded with the soldier to give him some information, so he wouldn’t have to cut off his fingers. The soldier was well aware of the game. He would endure all he could, give them the information they wanted, and then there would be a bullet to the brain.
“If I give you the information, can you just turn me loose in the jungle?” he pleaded.
“Of course, that would not be a problem. A leopard will eat you for breakfast,” Bahati said.
“I don’t believe you. I will tell you nothing.”
The board arrived. After the third finger was severed, he fainted. The tormentors threw water in his face, and he came to, begging to tell what they wanted. As soon as he told Bahati everything, one of the men shot him between the eyes. For the poor soldier, the bullet was a blessing.
“These are our problems to be solved. We have twenty miles of jungle to go through, and most of it tonight. Once we get through, we have a river to cross. Then, there is a 500 foot cliff with two bunkers, maybe three, at the top of the cliff. After that, there is a forest with a freshly cut trail that goes for about three or four miles, to a rock wall that is circular and twenty feet tall with soldiers in bunkers. Once inside, there are armed workers. There are thirty or forty of them and twelve of us,” he said, smiling the whole time.
The group discussed each problem one by one. Because the soldiers they had encountered guarding the vehicles were inept, they assumed all were poorly trained. The soldier did not tell Bahati there were four Haitian commandos at the quarry, and no one had brought up the subject of the natives.
The main reason Bahati wanted to risk his life to gain access to the quarry was the information the tortured soldier gave up. He told Bahati about the large amount of diamonds found in the quarry, as reported over his two-way radio. Had it not been for the diamonds, Bahati would have turned his troops around and gone back.
Captain Ismael Bahati started that night through the jungle, having charged the hopes and dreams of his men with the promise of an equal share in the diamonds. During their difficult trek through the wet forest and entanglements of the Congo, that promise was all they had.