Chapter 31

 

When Nick first rode east on the dirt bike, he tried to follow the exact trail that the Janjaweed had left with their horses hooves, knowing it would probably be the safest route. He knew that the violent tribesmen were enemies of almost everyone in Chad, both the military and the rebel groups. On top of that, they weren’t even supposed to be in this country in the first place—they were from Sudan and technically illegal aliens here.

But it was difficult to follow the indentations the horses left in the dark, through the mud and the puddles from the recent rain, and especially across grassy portions of the terrain. In addition, with the backpack on his shoulders and a two liter jug of fuel strapped to the rear, the bike was top heavy and difficult to maneuver.

After tipping over a few times, he finally decided it was easier to use the GPS tracker and ride in the group’s general direction, even though he would have to be careful to avoid villages and any military and rebel camps that might be in the way.

At least it appeared that the Janjaweed had not discovered the GPS tracker—yet. They were moving steadily east, straight towards the Sudanese border, but at a slow pace that told him they were just lightly trotting their horses. Elaine had said the group had been after her ever since they had left the diamond mine, and Nick figured both the men and their animals were tired and would soon need to stop and rest.

Now, after riding for more than five hours, Nick was trailing only three kilometers behind them. He had quieted the dirt-bike’s muffler considerably by using an old trick he’d learned as a kid, taping a soda can, with holes punched in it, around the exhaust pipe. They would not be expecting anyone on a motorcycle, but he wanted to keep his distance, just the same.

After another half hour of riding, he encountered a large refugee camp, with tents stretching out as far as he could see in the semi-dark, and had to skirt its perimeter. When he came around the far side of the encampment and consulted the GPS tracker, it seemed that the Janjaweed had changed direction a little and were now heading northeast, moving a little faster.

This was a surprise, not only that they were not longer heading in a straight line towards the border, but he had been sure they would stop to rest by now.

Nick followed along for another hour, maintaining the three kilometer distance. Now it was almost three a.m. Surely they would stop soon.

At three thirty, the little green dot on the sat-phone screen finally stopped moving.

Setting up camp for the night, Nick thought. Finally.

He closed the gap to only two kilometers, riding along very slowly, keeping the bike’s engine RPM at little more than an idle so that it wouldn’t make much noise. Fortunately, there was a rather raucous little village just to the south, with non-stop drumming so loud that Nick could even hear it over the sound of his own motor.

He finally stopped the bike, hid it in the scrub, and continued ahead on foot, lugging the extra fuel tank along—he had an idea of the kind of camp they would form, and had already formulated a plan to surprise them and to snatch the diamonds. The terrain here was grassy, with scattered baobab and acacia trees, fairly easy going. His only fear was running across a snake or a leopard or other wild animal—that dead black mamba he’d seen had reminded him of how dangerous this place was.

Elaine had told him what she’d done to scare off the Janjaweed. She had guts. If he were a woman, he didn’t know if he’d have had the nerve to do something like that.

He kept his eyes and ears alert every second, the flashlight aimed at the ground, periodically checking the GPS to make sure the men were staying put.

After ten minutes of walking, he checked the GPS and came to a sudden stop.

The Janjaweed were on the move again, and fast!

And headed right for him!

They had apparently done an about face and were headed back in his direction, only five hundred meters away—galloping at full speed, apparently.

The little dot on the screen was sliding steadily towards the one that indicated his own location.

Nick’s heart started beating faster—had they heard the dirt bike and turned around to investigate? It seemed like the most logical explanation.

Fighting panic, Nick turned back towards the spot where he’d hidden the motorcycle, and glanced at the phone screen again—but at the speed they were moving, there was no time to reach the bike.

And nowhere to hide!

There was nothing around him now but relatively short grass—the nearest tree he could make out across the darkened landscape, and maybe climb, was in their direction, maybe one hundred meters away.

He looked at the display again.

Only a hundred meters away now!

His heart thumping hard, he glanced frantically around again and spotted a patch of much longer, deeper grass to the right.

He started running as fast as he could, still lugging the plastic container full of fuel, making a beeline for the cover, the Kalashnikov bouncing wildly across his chest.

Now he could hear the pounding of horses’ hooves.

When Nick reached the taller grass, he darted through it until it was higher than his head, then slowed. The ground became marshy. There was a pond ahead. At least that would give him a little protection—they wouldn’t go through it.

He scrambled towards it, up to his ankles in soft mud, following its curve around for about fifty feet, then dove to the ground, landing on his stomach with a splash.

Nick could actually feel the earth shaking beneath him now from the galloping horses.

He glanced back at the phone—they had altered course again, and were still coming right at him! Damn it! They had reached the far side of the pond and were galloping around the perimeter—they would reach him in a matter of seconds!

Nick rose to a crouching position, mud caked to his forearms and mosquitoes swarming around him. He clicked off the rifle’s safety, feeling overwhelmed, and the galloping sound grew louder. He couldn’t possibly pick off a dozen of those vicious Janjaweed before getting killed himself. If only he had some grenades or some other kind of weapon...

Now he could see the tall grass being pushed down ahead of him, and he aimed the rifle ahead, his finger on the trigger.

Without warning, all sound and movement ceased.

Instantly.

Nick stayed crouched, wondering what the hell could have happened—had they stopped to let their horses drink from the pond?

Staying low and leaving the gasoline container behind, he began crawling through the grass to the left, carefully spreading it with one hand to minimize movement, making his way towards the far edge of the pond—from there, he could get a look at them and maybe they would pass. He couldn’t understand why they were backtracking and would then stop so suddenly to water their horses.

But that’s apparently what they were doing—he could hear some light splashes and trickles as the animals waded a little bit out into the water. But not a sound from the men.

He stopped and checked the GPS again—they were right there, not fifty feet away.

Afraid to breathe, Nick moved even slower, cringing every time he stepped on the smallest twig and made a sound.

He finally reached the edge of the pond, the grass thinning so much he had to drop down to all fours to stay out of sight.

He slowly raised his head, and his eyes widened.

He found himself staring at a herd of antelopes. Most of them were standing in the water, some of them drinking, some of them glancing nervously around for predators.

What the hell? Nick thought, and he looked back down at the phone’s display, then expanded the map. The dot from the GPS tracker was right there, close to him, at the exact spot where the antelopes were standing.

Two of the animals turned in the water and started coming back out.

One of them was limping.

Nick squinted to try to see what was wrong with the injured animal. In the dim light, he could see that there was a bright yellow rope around its neck.

Then he spotted a white disk dangling from it.

“Noooo,” he groaned, and stood upright.

The entire herd of antelopes blanched at the sound of his voice, whipping their heads towards him in unison, and then took off en masse in the other direction, galloping away through the grass.