Part 15 (1/2)
Pygmies could do that. But pygmies were not usually aggressive to strangers. They wouldn't attack an encampment armed with guns.
But the ghosts of slaughtered pygmies might.
Jean s.h.i.+vered, glancing at the leaves. He wanted to be out of the forest. ”Are you done here?”
Lutalo locked wide eyes on him. The bodyguard's dark eyes always looked wild and deranged. Jean hated that gaze.
”It's clear we're being followed,” Lutalo said. ”Double the guards on watch tomorrow night.”
”Maybe we should talk about leaving. We're moving too slowly-”
Lutalo's glare intensified. Jean knew he had stepped out of line. Although Jean was one of Zadu's lieutenants, Lutalo was his personal bodyguard. In that sense, Lutalo outranked him. And the man was insane. He killed men that crossed him.
”Or perhaps not,” Jean finished weakly.
”Come. Let's report what we found to the general,” Lutalo said as he turned away from the corpse and headed up the hill.
Jean followed through the forest until they emerged in the dense thicket that served as camp. The men hurried about, the tents folded and put away. A chainsaw buzzed in the distance and axes thudded into tree trunks. A pair of men dug a hole at the center of the encampment, Imani's body rolled in cloth beside it. The same shallow grave would be used for both men.
Jean watched as a large red truck rolled through the camp. The tires crushed plants and branches, struggling to move the vehicle forward. The hood was rusted straight through in places. Behind the truck, a trailer bounced over the rough terrain. A few supplies were loaded on the back, including two motorbikes, but the true purpose of the trailer lay on the banks of the river not far ahead.
The chainsaw and axes were needed to cut a wide enough path through the jungle to take the trailer to the river. Even with the undergrowth being chopped away, thick roots and trees too large to cut obstructed the path. To make matters worse, the jungle sloped, gradually turning from forested hills to muddy swamp.
Zadu stood among a spa.r.s.e group of advisors. He spoke to them in quiet tones, relaying new orders. Each of the men nodded when he was spoken to. One of them offered a firm salute and sped off toward his appointed task. Zadu turned to address Lutalo and Jean as they approached.
They saluted crisply and explained to Zadu what they had found. Zadu listened, digesting their words. A loud conversation drew Jean's attention to the men cutting into the jungle. The operation had stopped, the chainsaw falling silent. As Lutalo explained his suggestion of doubling the camp's guards, men pointed up into the canopy shouting to each other.
Jean excused himself, drawing cold stares from both Zadu and Lutalo. He strode across the encampment and made his way to the tree line. Stacks of wood and brush piled onto one side. An open swath, barely large enough for the truck, stretched fifty meters back into the forest.
He walked up to the closest soldier. ”What's going on?”
The soldier turned. ”Bazim found something. If you look up there you can see.” He thrust a finger upward at the green ceiling.
Jean lifted his head. His eyes followed the thick, round trunks of the nearby trees until they branched out. From there he searched the ma.s.ses of swirling green. For a few moments he couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. The forest was such a ma.s.s of shapes that it was like sorting through a jigsaw puzzle.
Finally, he spotted something weaving through the leaves. Cables suspended among the canopy. They seemed to originate at the top of a nearby tree. He saw something flash there in the morning light, something metallic. He called out for binoculars. A soldier appeared next to him with a pair. Jean gazed through them up at the canopy. He searched through the green until he saw the silvery flash of metal. Bolts dug into the trunk of the tree, holding up a complex piece of equipment. He spotted what looked like a radar dish, pointed slightly downward and in the direction of the river.
A radar dish? Who would have placed something like that? Was someone worried about aircraft? No, that didn't make sense. The dish was angled downward, toward the river. Was someone tracking watercraft? As he scanned the dish with his lenses he saw places where vines crept around the machine, as if the thing had been there for quite a while. Who could have done this? Were they somehow tracking the militia's movements?
”Get General Zadu,” he ordered the closest soldier. The soldier nodded and ran off.
Zadu and Lutalo came trudging over, sour looks on their faces.
”What is this?” Zadu asked.
Jean handed the binoculars to him and pointed up at the canopy. The general s.n.a.t.c.hed them and looked up. It took him a minute of scanning before his jaw tightened and he snapped the binoculars back down at his side.
”You saw it?” Jean asked.
Zadu nodded.
”Somebody is watching this forest. Someone with a lot of money.”
”The Belgian?” Lutalo asked.
Zadu snapped a glare at his bodyguard. Lutalo s.h.i.+fted uneasily.
”It's pointed toward the river,” Jean reminded them.
Zadu nodded. ”Perhaps he is watching the plane.”
Jean considered that. None of it made sense. Was the radar dish a tracking device? If it were, then why would it be pointed in such a way? And did the Belgian have the resources to employ such devices?
Jean heard whispered murmurs from the nearby soldiers. They spoke quietly enough to not disturb their general. But he could tell their suspicion was high. The discovery of the dish changed everything. A moment before, he had been worried about pygmy spirits. Now he was worried about international conspirators.
14.
A breakfast of a.s.sorted fruits awaited them in the morning; sweet and sour delicacies to start their energy off high. The Frenchman buzzed about the table, singing a lively tune. Temba and Kuntolo stood outside, visible through the house's windows, packing supplies for the trip.
Sam's long makes.h.i.+ft skirt was gone, replaced by her shorts. The pink scabrous rash glowed brightly on her leg. She reached a hand down to scratch it, but pulled it away before her fingers touched.
They ate breakfast while Raoul packed. Sam and Brandon were prepared to go at a moment's notice. They helped Raoul clean up, grabbed their packs, and stepped outside. Temba and Kuntolo waited on the porch. Raoul donned a white hat to s.h.i.+eld sunlight from his eyes. He cleaned up rather well, looking every part the European explorer. He carried a hefty pack on his back, which he attempted to unload on Temba. Temba adamantly refused, stating that Raoul packed way too much stuff anyway.
The five of them joined the five from H. Hurley International in the center of the village. The mercenaries carried the bulk of the group's weight on their backs. The two chemists carried small packs on their shoulders and bags on their hips.
The Australian eyed Temba curiously, when he saw the two pygmies ready for the trek. ”Temba, you boys are coming with us?”
He nodded.
”Whatever happened to, 'the forest is bad? It isn't good for anyone. I won't take you there for any amount of money.'”
He shrugged, ignoring the Australian mercenary as he led Brandon to a place to fill the water bottles.
”Are they paying you?” the Australian asked. When Temba didn't respond, he turned to Sam. ”Are you paying him?”
She shook her head and shrugged helplessly.
”You're doing this for free?”
Brandon bobbed the bottle into the water, noticing the liquid's ruddy color. Maybe he could wait until they reached the river.
”Why not?” Temba asked. ”I am already a rich man.”
”That's not very fair.”
”Life is not fair,” Temba argued. ”I am much better looking than you. It is not fair, but there is nothing we can do about it, is there?”