Chapter 8

 

Promptly at ten pm, a rumble sounded in the distance, growing louder, and a truck came into view as it turned a corner. Behind it came another Jeep. He saw the warehouse men tense on his screen. This seems like it.

The truck parked next to the first one, both underneath a crane. Kabongo climbed out gingerly from the second Jeep, along with three other men. The two shooters from the first Jeep joined Kabongo and the six men huddled together briefly.

One man split off, headed to a crane and started climbing to its cab. Kabongo looked around and through his NVGs, Bwana could see beads of sweat on the crime lord’s face. The night was warm, but not hot.

Maybe he’s nervous. Maybe he’s wondering where I am.

Kabongo went to the first truck and spoke to its driver, who followed him, climbed into the crime lord’s Jeep and drove it away.

He wants no witnesses. Second truck’s driver is in the loop. He can stay. Five men on the ground. Remaining truck driver in his cab. One man in the crane.

A few men had appeared on the ship’s deck and a lot of yelling ensued between Kabongo and them. One of the ship’s crew gave thumbs up and he and his buddies disappeared from view.

The crane whined to life, and after yet another searching look, Kabongo motioned to its operator who was visible in his glass cab. The crane’s spreader started lowering and locked onto the second truck’s container.

Kabongo turned around slowly. He didn’t seem to find any threat. He jerked his thumb up and the crane started lifting.

All eyes were on the container as it started easing on the truck and then started rising.

Bwana let it rise for a foot and then he acted.

 

 

Two heads were poking above their concrete blocks, watching the crane operate. The warehouse men were watching too.

Bwana’s first shot took out the first concrete block man. To his right. Three seconds to turn the G28, sight, and take out the second concrete block man.

Grasp the HK416. Rise. Jump off the ledge. Fall four rungs down. Catch the fifth rung. Point the HK416 at one of the warehouse men, and spray. Lob a grenade at the second warehouse man who was standing upright, wondering what the commotion was.

The grenade exploded. No back blast reached Bwana. He was too far from it. The first man offered no resistance. He was down.

Bwana was already falling as the explosion sounded. Another five rungs. Catch. Release. He started spraying through the open doors of the warehouse. At the grouped men near the truck. Some of who were reacting. Turning. Their rifles rising.

Catch. Release. Land on ground. Roll to the side. And this time Bwana fired a sustained, long burst. Magazine quick change. Crouching low. Darting through the warehouse doors. His back was covered by Meghan. She would call out if any of the warehouse men rose to attack. They didn’t.

Bwana went forward. Under the floodlights. Seeking any movement.

None. Five bodies down. A hand moved. Bwana shot. It went still. No shouts. No groans. His bursts of fire had caught all the shooters plumb.

One body moved. His finger was tightening on the trigger, when a voice called out, ‘DON’T SHOOT.’ It was Kabongo.

 

 

He was alive, miraculously. Must have dove behind one of the shooters. ‘Raise your hands. Get up. Slowly,’ he ordered.

Kabongo rose awkwardly and stood trembling.

‘Ask your man to return the container.’ He fired at the crime lord’s feet when Kabongo hesitated. The man jumped and made hand signals, hollering at the same time.

The crane stopped its upward movement. It started lowering.

Bwana gestured with his rifle. ‘Ask the truck driver to come out. Hands raised.’

Bwana’s vision was narrowed to a tunnel. The two trucks. The crane. The bodies. That was all he saw.

The driver jumped out and stood next to Kabongo, as the container settled on the truck.

Bwana aimed at the two men, ‘Is the crane man armed?’

‘No,’ Kabongo replied quickly.

‘You will die if he is.’

‘No. He isn’t,’ Kabongo insisted.

‘Give me your phone. Toss it to me. Slowly.’ Bwana held the HK416 with his right hand and caught the incoming phone with his left. A second to check its screen. No recent call history.

‘Throw me the driver’s phone.’

No calls on it either.

He crushed both phones with his heel and gestured with his gun, ‘Kabongo, step aside. Take ten paces to my right. Your left. Stay there. Don’t move. You,’ he beckoned to the driver, who had turned white.

‘Open the container.’

The driver looked at Kabongo who yelled angrily, ‘DO IT. DO YOU WANT TO DIE? HE WILL KILL US ALL.’

The driver turned to the container. Bwana watching him carefully. The driver placed his hands on its locking lever and started lifting it. Bwana went closer to the truck. Ten feet away. Four feet behind the driver. Kabongo very much in his vision.

The driver looked back in fright. Bwana pointed at the doors. He went back to opening the container.

Bwana took six quick steps to his right as the doors started swinging open.

TRAP!

 

 

His body was moving even before his mind had processed what his eyes had seen. Four men in the container. Armed. Rifles ready. No girls.

Bwana’s left arm blurred and threw a grenade at the container. Even as the men started firing. And he started diving. The men were firing straight ahead, figuring Bwana would be right in front of them. Bwana wasn’t. The driver was, who went down like a rag doll.

Bwana saw nothing more as he landed beneath the truck. Just as the grenade exploded and the truck shook on its wheels. For a moment Bwana feared the truck’s bed would collapse on him, but it stood firm.

Bwana crawled quickly behind one set of rear wheels. ‘Kabongo?’ he called at the crime lord who had dove to the ground at the blast.

‘KABONGO!’ He roared when the man didn’t move.

Kabongo raised his head.

‘Is anyone in the container alive?’

Kabongo shook his head wordlessly

‘Get up. I should kill you, but not right now,’ Bwana grated.

The crime lord rose slowly, his hands going skywards automatically.

Bwana took a grenade out of his pocket and waved it in the air, ‘Do you see this?’

Kabongo nodded, ‘Please. I didn’t – ’

‘SHUT UP. CATCH IT WHEN I THROW IT AT YOU. REMOVE THE PIN AND THROW IT IN THE CONTAINER. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?’

‘Yes, yes.’

Bwana tossed the grenade at him in a gentle arc. Watched as the crime lord caught it. Kabongo removed the pin, threw it in the container and flung himself at the ground. It would have been comical at any other time.

Bwana was already crawling away from the truck when the second grenade exploded. This time the truck sagged as one of its tires gave way. Bwana rose, and went to the container’s mouth and peered cautiously. There was no more threat from inside it.

Where are the girls? Kabongo would –

The crane’s whine caught his attention now that silence had fallen. He whirled to look at it descend on the first container. On the first truck.

Of course!

He was turning at Kabongo in rage when the round caught him in his back. Over his left shoulder, which wasn’t covered by the armor. Bwana stumbled. Made himself fall. Rolled desperately, his rifle rising as more rounds pinged the air and some hit the container.

Kabongo! There was a gun in his hand which he was triggering as fast as he could, breathing loudly, almost crying, as he turned to track Bwana.

Too late.

Bwana fired from beneath his body. Cut the crime lord down and lay gasping as Kabongo fell limply.

Get up. You are not dead. It’s only a shoulder wound.

‘Bwana?’ Meghan. Urgently calling out in his ears.

She could wait.

Bwana got to his feet and fired a long burst in the sky to scare the crane operator. ‘STOP,’ he commanded.

The crane’s downward moment stopped.

‘COME DOWN.’

The operator came down, panic on his face.

‘Open that container,’ Bwana pointed to the first container.

The operator didn’t move. He had seen all that had happened. There could be a trap in that container too.

Bwana fired above his head. The operator flinched and ran to the container. Bwana palmed another grenade and followed at a distance and at an angle.

‘OPEN IT,’ he bellowed, his eyes sighting down his barrel, the container’s door in his vision.

The operator complied and swung the doors open. The same white boxes were revealed.

‘Remove them.’

The operator grasped one and heaved. And stumbled as the carton proved to be lighter than he had anticipated. He jumped back as the rest of the boxes fell out of the container.

Bwana didn’t see them fall. He had eyes only on the container’s open doors. On what he could see through them.

Wide eyes. Terrified faces.

Bwana Kayembe had traveled from Siberia to the Congo to rescue twenty-five kidnapped girls.

He had found them.