Matthias

I woke up to the rattle of a rough road. My head ached, my stomach churned and I had to rip my cheek off the Land Rover’s vinyl seat. For a moment, I couldn’t figure out where I was. I forced my mind’s rusty gears to turn and took in the dark sky. A sliver of light offered a shy outline of the flat horizon, revealing we were racing south. I peeled my tongue off my parched mouth’s roof and remembered. The mission. Drake. Rem. I looked around. Jade wasn’t in the truck.

I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached. The notion that she had put my safety above hers did nothing to appease my fury. Rem and Zeke were right up there with Jade on my shit list.

Sometimes, friends and lovers were a major pain in the ass.

I tested my hands. They were bound at the wrist with zip ties. Rem had made sure I wasn’t gonna give his men hell. Well, fuck Rem. My Ka-Bar was back at the station, but a SEAL always had a plan B. Moving very slowly, I reached down for the backup knife I kept tucked in my prosthetic. I was gonna do my best not to hurt Rem’s men, but hell no, I wasn’t going south, not without Jade.

* * *

Jade

A muted rasp broke through my mind’s silence. I struggled to place the peculiar sound. Rasp…rasp…rasp. The quiet rhythm lulled my senses into a false sense of security. A thought broke through the murkiness, awakening the pain throbbing on the side of my head. Danger. The echoes of my last memories reverberated in my head and shook me out of oblivion. Kumbuyo had found me. Cara and Stoats were dead. Rise and shine, marine.

I kept very still but peered between my eyelids. A murky grayness welcomed me to the unknown, interrupted only by the flickering light of an oil lamp. Underground, maybe? Above me, I spotted a wooden framework stuffed with soil and grasses. A rigid surface creaked beneath my body, but I couldn’t move much. A hard hold squeezed around my neck.

I tested my arms. My wrists were bound behind my back. Looking down the length of my body, I spotted my legs, spread apart, and my ankles, bound by a pair of iron shackles fastened to opposite sides of the cot. Initial assessment? Not good. Situation critical.

The rasp stopped, replaced by the low rumble of a snicker. “I know you’re awake.”

I tried craning my neck. The chain coiled tighter around my throat. The links dug in and made me gag. Still, I managed to turn my head and forced my eyes to focus.

Kumbuyo’s vicious stare met mine on the cracked little mirror hanging on the corner post. He stood with his broad muscular back to me, his face illuminated by the lamp’s flickering flame. He faced an old basin, chest bare, cammo pants riding low on his hips, cheeks and chin covered with suds. The first thought that came into my head was that he looked like a rabid animal, foaming at the mouth.

Rasp…rasp…rasp. He scraped his face with an old razor, edging the corners of his mouth with careful strokes. I started to work my bindings right away, pulling on my legs, trying to slip my feet through the shackles, tugging my wrists apart to loosen my bonds.

“You didn’t think I’d forget, did you?” Kumbuyo bit down on his upper lip and scraped at the bristle beneath his septum. “Not after our last encounter. Not after you wrecked my chances to find the ivory and finish off the game warden.”

My gaze swept over my surroundings. We were in a small hut with mud walls and no windows. The dampness and the muffled noises confirmed we were underground. I recognized my empty backpack on the table. Kumbuyo must have taken it from my bungalow. My cameras were on the table, along with my laptop. The only door out of the hut stood right next to Kumbuyo. Not that I had a chance at getting at the door. I kept tugging on the chains. They didn’t give an inch. I wasn’t going anywhere soon.

“By the look on your face, I don’t think you like our accommodations.” Kumbuyo tucked the razor in his belt and rinsed the suds off his cheeks. “Never mind that.” He grabbed a rag and patted his chin dry. “We’ll be moving on soon enough.”

I wondered how long it’d been since he knocked me out at the reserve. A day, maybe two? I’d been unconscious most of the time, but I must have come to at times, because snippets of our trip flashed in my mind. I remembered the oars dipping quietly in and out of the water as we traveled upriver in the darkness, the violent rattle of a crowded truck bed as we raced away, and the steady knocking of a shoulder against my ribcages as someone hauled me to…where?

Kumbuyo ambled to the cot and looked down on me. “Time for a little chat.”

I held his stare. “You and I have nothing to chat about.”

“You’re wrong, Jade. You’re going to tell me where the elephants hide in the reserve, plus every single thing you know about that huge pile of ivory you featured in your segment.”

So, he hadn’t gone after it yet. He was smarter than we’d given him credit for and more cautious too. This was shitty news for me, because my best hope for a quick release involved Rem’s team chasing after Matthias’s decoys and finding me along with the ivory.

It didn’t look like that was going to happen today. I suppressed a shiver of fear. I was on my own.

“I’m ready for you this time around,” Kumbuyo said. “Now that I know you were a marine and worked on intelligence gathering missions with special ops, I won’t fall for your tricks.”

He had looked me up real good, which could only confirm that Lamba and his terrorists had high-level contacts capable to access lots of information. Kumbuyo and Lamba were not the ignorant savages that the world press made them to be. They had knowledge, connections, and resources at a global level.

“When we met, you wanted to interview me.” Kumbuyo lowered himself onto the bare springs and sat next to me. The cot bent under his weight and whined with a loud screech. “But now it’s my turn to ask questions. I think you’ll find my methods much more persuasive than yours.”

I felt naked under Kumbuyo’s stare. It was worse when he slid his hand under my tank top and beneath my bra. His touch sickened me. His fingers closed about my breast, cruel and painful. His callous thumb rubbed against my nipple, harsh against my skin.

“I do remember these beauties from the first night we met.” His fingers pinched and hurt. “I remember the way you looked and felt, and what you promised me. I’ve been looking forward to collecting on that debt.”

Heaven help me. I strained in my bonds, but the chains held. I couldn’t move to stop him. Helpless again. I gritted my teeth. For the second time in only a few weeks, I felt powerless. But I wasn’t going to let Kumbuyo know that. Or anything else for that matter.

“I don’t have any info that interests you,” I said. “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

His smirk froze the blood in my veins. “We’ll see about that.”

The dark lust clouding his eyes announced that I was a bug about to be squashed. My stomach churned. He was so controlled, watching me as he touched me, stoking my fears, sending gushes of adrenaline to flood my brain. But the one thing he didn’t know about me was that fear led to fury and fury led to defiance.

I pushed the words through my dry lips. “Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

Kumbuyo’s smug smirk widened. “The short answer?”

It took all I had to flash my fangs at him. “Sure.”

His lips straightened and his stare hardened on my face. “Because I want you to suffer.”

The chill in his glare iced my spine.

“You humiliated me in front of my men.” He traced his fingers over my lips, softly for a man who harbored such violence in him. “You distracted me from my primary task: killing the warden.”

I tried to jerk away from his touch, but the chains were too tight. In the interest of self-preservation, I kept my thoughts to myself. There was no point in further provoking the brute. I knew what he was capable of. I’d seen him in action. Killing came as easy as breathing to him.

“Women like you must be tamed.” He slid the shaving razor from his belt, opened it and plucked out the rusted blade. “I know a traditional method that works well. It will help you become humbler, respectful, servile. If nothing else, it will make you talk.”

My skin crawled and an involuntary shiver shook me all the way to my bone marrow. I had a bad feeling that I knew what he was talking about. With a sickening rip of the blade, he slashed the crotch of my pants into a ragged V.

“So that you know.” A conspiratorial gleam brightened Kumbuyo’s eyes. “As per the World Health Organization’s classification, I’m going for type three.”

A surge of fear squeezed my throat worse than the chain around my neck. I tugged on those bonds with all I had, pulling on the shackles, one foot, then the other. In preparing for this trip, I’d done tons of research. I’d read the reports condemning the heinous practice of female genital mutilation and describing the different times of procedures commonly performed on young tribal girls. In type one, the clitoris was held between two fingers and sliced off. In type two, the outer and the inner lips were also removed in addition to the clitoris. In type three, all of the female genitalia were amputated and then the wound was sewn tightly closed, leaving only a tiny opening to allow for the flow of urine and menstrual blood.

Millions of women had been submitted to this horror over the generations. Activist all over the continent were trying to curb the atrocious practice. Not Kumbuyo. Oh, yeah and by the way, these procedures were traditionally done with a razor just like the one that Kumbuyo held between his fingers.

Panic sent a jolt of fear through my system. Outrage lent me superhuman strength. I can’t really explain how it happened, only that after pulling on my bonds throughout the entire disturbing exchange, the chain that held my left ankle snapped. I kicked up and struck Kumbuyo on the head with my knee.

He stumbled off the cot, taken by surprise. The razor blade tumbled in the air and dropped to the floor. Kumbuyo roared, leapt from the floor and came after me. I batted the sweeps of his fist with my free leg, but he caught my ankle, held it down and landed some vicious punches on my torso, growing more savage with every strike.

His ferocious fury found a target in my body. I didn’t think he was going to stop. Pinned and bound as I was, I had no real way to defend myself. I took the pounding and fought for breath as pain flared and black dots obscured my vision. I was about to pass out when then the door slammed open and a rotund, giant of a man strode into the hut.

“What in the name of God are you doing?”

Kumbuyo’s fist landed in my gut.

“Stop him,” the newcomer ordered as I fought to stay conscious.

Two heavily armed men wearing jungle fatigues grabbed Kumbuyo by the back of his pants, pulled him off me, and hurled him halfway across the room. Kumbuyo crashed against the wall. The collision must have returned him back to his senses, because he looked up and gawked at the newcomer, blinking hard, as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes.

“Commander?” He grappled for words. “What are you doing here?”

Commander? The title brought me back to full alert mode. My ribs ached and my gut was on fire, but I was alive for the moment, and that was a lot more than I expected a few seconds ago.

I pretended as if I were drifting in and out of consciousness. Better if they thought I wasn’t listening. Through hooded lids, I evaluated the newcomer. Tall and rotund, he sported a sprawling nose and a prolific double chin. His ridiculously ornamented uniform could’ve come straight from a Cirque du Solei act. His beret was adorned with red ribbons and the gun at his holster was new and shiny. The two bodyguards who flanked the door looked even larger than Kumbuyo and armed to the teeth.

“You seem so surprised to see me,” the man said in a remarkably soft voice and a tilting accent, French perhaps?

“I wasn’t expecting you.” A visibly rattled Kumbuyo pushed himself off the dirt. “I hadn’t been informed you were coming. If I may ask, how did you get here?”

“I didn’t trek all the way through Central Africa if that’s what you’re asking,” the other man said. “I caught a ride with a friend of mine, a Tanzanian minister who owns a private jet. It’s a much more civilized way to travel. Don’t you think?”

“Yes, of course,” Kumbuyo mumbled, but he couldn’t really hide his bewilderment.

The exchanged confirmed a lot of the intelligence Rem and Matthias had gathered over the last two years. Rebels, poachers, and criminals traveled via private planes under the sponsorship of a corruptive and corrupted system. Poaching around the world was an endemic disease, supported by the governing classes, who benefited from it.

But the best clue I had so far as to the newcomer’s identity, came from Kumbuyo himself. Someone as brutal and autocratic as Kumbuyo would only submit to the very top of his leadership. Holy shit. This “commander” had to be none other than Lamba himself. Here. In Tanzania!

Lamba’s mirrored gaze shifted my way briefly, before it returned to Kumbuyo. “I’m assuming this is her?”

Kumbuyo’s lips thinned. “Yes.”

Lamba motioned and one of his men marched over to me and began to uncoil the chain around my neck. “Are you trying to kill her?”

“The woman is dangerous,” Kumbuyo said. “She’s best left in restraints.”

“She doesn’t look so dangerous to me right now.” Lamba leaned over me and patted my cheek like a kindly grandfather. “In fact, she looks quite helpless at the moment. Are you awake?”

I moaned and slurred for his benefit. He must’ve found my act convincing, because he turned from me. The bodyguard finished unraveling the chain around my neck before he returned to his post flanking the door. I kept my gaze averted but my ears open.

“This is your best work yet.” Lamba reached out and squeezed Kumbuyo’s shoulder. “I knew on the day I recruited you from your village, you were a promising one. The way you hacked down your own father was…impressive. You ought to be congratulated in this new achievement. Infiltrating the station was an excellent idea and setting the orphanage on fire as a distraction was genius.”

So, the fire had been a part of Kumbuyo’s plan.

“You have succeeded beyond my wildest expectation,” Lamba said, “and for that you should have a fair reward.”

Kumbuyo actually smiled. “In dollars?”

“In dollars, my friend, in millions of dollars, but…” he lifted a fat finger in the air, “those dollars must be procured before they’re distributed.”

Kumbuyo’s smile faltered. “Procured?”

“Yes, son, procured, which is why I need her alive.”

“I…apologies commander, but I don’t follow.”

“I have great plans for her,” Lamba said, “which is why I’ve traveled here personally. The time for change has come. Tomorrow, right here, on this spot, there will be an auction.”

Kumbuyo’s forehead crumpled. “How come I know nothing of this?”

“Secrecy is at the heart of success,” Lamba explained in his silky voice. “I’ve invited some of our acquaintances to take a look at the merchandise. As soon as I heard the news you had the woman, I activated our contacts with Boko Haram, Al-Qaida, and ISIS. News came back fast: They all want her, a westerner, an American, a marine, and a conservation celebrity. Can you think of a better bargaining chip?”

Kumbuyo knuckled his chin. “You want to sell her to the highest bidder?”

“Precisely,” Lamba said. “The auction should bring us a new, powerful ally and much needed capital, since the woman is likely to profit any one of these organizations greatly.”

“How?” Kumbuyo asked.

“You were always a curious one.” Lamba chortled. “Her most important contribution will be in the public relations realm. Who knows? They might try asking for ransom as well. Word is she comes from a wealthy family. Not that they are ever going to give her back. Oh, no. They’ll break her down. They’ll take great pleasure doing so. They’ll tweet, Facebook, Instagram, and Snapchat images of her as they do. And finally, one day, they’ll kill her for all the world to see in an unforgettable spectacle. They might behead her in front of a camera. Or perhaps they’ll put her in a cage and burn her alive, but only after her suffering has been broadcasted all over the world.”

It was a bleak prospect for me, which may explain why I was shivering inside, trying not to think of Mom and Dad having to suffer through a horrible ordeal like that, a nightmare that no family in the world should ever have to experience.

“I was aiming to do some of that myself,” Kumbuyo muttered sullenly.

“I understand your devotion to the cause.” Lamba flashed a condescending smile. “But let’s be honest. We do not have the resources and the public relations expertise and we need the money to bring about true change. She will bring top dollar.”

“But…” Kumbuyo grappled with the notion. “Is this place secure enough for a high-level meeting?”

“It will be, in a day or so, when the war party I sent to procure the ivory returns with its load.”

“You sent for the ivory?” Kumbuyo gawked. “The ivory from the woman’s segment?”

“Indeed.” Lamba’s double chin quivered with a firm nod. “All that ivory, collected in one place cannot be allowed to burn and go to waste. I had to act fast, before it was destroyed. The ivory is an important part of the plan, the glue that brings it all together.”

“How?”

“Questions, Kumbuyo always has questions.” Lamba chuckled quietly. “I’ve made a new agreement with the Chinese cartel. They’ll provide three military cargo planes flying under diplomatic privilege. In the inbound flight, the planes will carry troops, more specifically, our troops, currently awaiting pick up at a secret location in Central Africa. You do see the benefits of transporting the men across, don’t you?”

Kumbuyo nodded. I could see the benefits as well. A grueling march that would’ve taken months would be accomplished in a few hours, delivering chaos and war, and blowing to pieces any chances for lasting peace.

“This agreement gives everyone what they want,” Lamba said, his tone dreamy, his eyes gleaming with visions. “On the outbound flights, the cartel will have their ivory. We will have our troops and their money, lots of it, enough to buy ourselves a new army. On top of all of that, we’ll also have a brand new allegiance, cemented by the woman’s sale. And we’ll have the resources we need to bring the battle to East Africa.”

It was quite the grand plan. Complex, too, but Lamba seemed set on executing it. It was bad news all around. The unholy alliance that Rem feared the most was about to happen and my blood was somehow the ink that would seal the deal.

“With respect, commander,” Kumbuyo said. “I worry about security for the meeting.”

“Why?”

“Two words,” Kumbuyo said. “Matthias Hawking.”

“By your own designs, Hawking has been neutralized, isn’t that true?”

“But he’s not dead yet.”

“It’s only a matter of time,” Lamba said. “You paid the right people in the right places, haven’t you?”

“But I don’t have confirmation that the police have him yet.”

Jesus. Kumbuyo had bribed the police! Thank God that Rem and Zeke had sneaked Matthias out of the station. Otherwise, Matthias would be dead by now. Sorry, Rem and Zeke. Good call.

“Never mind Hawking,” Lamba said. “He’s a dead man walking. Instead, you need to get to work, because our friends will arrive soon and you’re responsible for providing security for the meeting. ”

Kumbuyo grunted something obscene under his breath. He didn’t sound exactly thrilled. A glare from Lamba was all it took to silence his protests and refocus him on the here and now. “What do you want to do with the woman?”

“Keep her secure until our customers get here,” Lamba said. “I don’t mind if you want to use her. I heard you have some personal grievances against her. So, in the spirit of fairness, you can do whatever you want with her as long as you leave her face untouched so that she’s easily recognizable to our audience. One other thing. Whatever else you do, make sure you don’t kill her. We need her alive.”

My stomach squeezed with dread. I wanted to throw up. Between Kumbuyo’s and Lamba’s plans, I was dead meat. A throat cleared at the door. I recognized Kumbuyo’s second lurking at the threshold, the same man I’d named Pot Belly during my first night in Africa for reasons that still stood.

“A visitor has arrived,” he announced eyes shifting nervously from one man to the other. “She says she’s expected?”

She?

“Is it the cartel representative?” Lamba asked.

Pot Belly nodded. “It is, commander.”

“Mei Cheng?” Kumbuyo’s voice tilted with incredulity. “You invited her? Here?”

“She required a face-to-face meeting before she clears the planes for takeoff,” Lamba said. “The cartel is neither as naïve nor as trusting as the Americans. Mei’s cartel is our best customer, so she’ll get her meeting. And since she brings a down payment for the ivory load—in cash—we will not make our guest wait. So put on your shirt and join us, Kumbuyo.”

Hmm. For a bad day, this one was getting interesting.

Lamba lumbered out of the hut, followed by his bodyguards. Kumbuyo lingered behind, lips pressed, forehead furrowed in thought as he shoved his arms into his shirtsleeves and sauntered over to me.

“I’m glad you’ve been listening,” he said, buttoning his shirt. “I wanted you to know the details. Knowing is a different kind of suffering, but it’s suffering all the same. You think you’re so smart, pretending you’re out cold, working those ropes real soldier-like, as if you had a prayer of escaping me. So let’s make sure you don’t have any way to carry out your machinations.”

He bent over and unlocked the fetters from my ankles, but he kept my hands tied behind my back. With the fetters undone, he grabbed my arms and stood me up. My ribs ached. My legs wobbled. I dropped to the dirt. My knees hit the ground hard. I was weak. I hadn’t drunk or eaten anything in a while and the beating had taken its toll. But I had an even better reason to be on the ground.

I allowed myself to fall to one side, eyes on Kumbuyo, hands groping behind my back, fingers searching desperately until they made contact with the razor blade he’d dropped on the ground. I grasped the blade. It bit into my flesh with a sharp sting as I scooped it into my fist and held on tight.

In one brutal tug, Kumbuyo dragged the cot aside. A small, square door had been hidden behind it, built low into the concrete wall right against the dirt floor. Kumbuyo pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked what turned out to be a solid metal door with a thick vault-like profile and worse, the absolute darkness beyond it.

My fears reared up. No. He wasn’t going to put me in there. At first glance, the space was too small, better suited to hide money or weapons as opposed to human beings. But Kumbuyo grabbed my hair and, setting my skull on fire, dragged me over to what looked to me like my personal entrance to hell.

I dug my boots in the dirt. I kicked, I tried to fight him, but it was a wasted effort. He manhandled me without much trouble.

“No!” I braced my boots at either side of the narrow entrance and made my stand. “Not in there,” and then I uttered a desperate “please?”

“So this marine is afraid of the dark.” Kumbuyo flashed his teeth. “What is it that you Americans like to say? Good to know?”

He wrenched my legs together and shoved the lower half of my body into the hole. I tried to resist, but Kumbuyo cuffed me before he shoved me hard and I was all in. By the tenuous light filtering in, I spotted a small space excavated into the soil. It was no bigger than a dog crate and not taller than three or four feet high.

“After my meeting, I’ll come back for my fun.” Kumbuyo’s face blocked the narrow entrance. “I’ll cut you and then I’ll sew you up to teach you a lesson. Then I will take great pleasure in ripping you open, before you’re auctioned like a goat at the market.”

His chilling smirk was my final sight before the last of the tenuous light was gone. The door clunked in its formidable frame and I was helpless, trapped and alone with my worst terrors.

* * *

Matthias

The sun was about to set by the time I got within the reserve’s radio range. It’d been a long, bumpy ride as I sped on dirt back roads the entire way. I didn’t need the police to know that I was on the loose or where I was. I didn’t need Rem and Zeke on my tail either. I turned on the truck’s radio and scanned the airways, spying on my own rangers.

By now, Rem probably knew I’d ditched his men. They were top-of-the-line operators, but they weren’t better than me. Once I cut off the zip ties and got my hands free, the rest was easy. In a swift strike, I took the operators by surprise, kicked them out of the truck and left them within walking distance of a small tribal village like the kind, considerate guy I was.

The radio crackled in the designated emergency channel, but the communications came in blurred. I couldn’t make out a word they were saying. Lots of chatter, much more than the usual. Zeke’s typically even voice sounded frantic. I drove another three miles holding the radio to my ear, before I caught on. Every ranger in the reserve was deployed in a frenzied search for lioness A-23, a code name I myself had assigned. To Jade.

My stomach dropped in a freefall. Jade was gone. Missing. The details were sketchy and given in code over the airways, but I caught a reference to tracks and a possible last sighting on the opposite bank upriver. I didn’t know the specifics but I gathered that, in my absence, Kumbuyo had infiltrated the station and extracted Jade from the compound. Son of a bitch. I slammed my foot down on the accelerator and sped down the road, trailing a wake of red dust whirling under the midday sun.

I crossed the river twenty miles south of the station at the old ferry and only after having to fetch the old man who ran the rope and pulley system from his midday, alcoholic-induced nap. Holding my breath against the stink, I dragged him out of his hut, paid him double, then paid his grandsons some more for three pairs of extra hands to help get the Land Rover across faster.

While on the ferry, I pulled out the wanted flyer I carried in my pocket and showed the men Kumbuyo’s picture. Fear flashed in the men’s eyes. None of them admitted to seeing Kumbuyo. Typical. By the time I crossed the river and got to proper coordinates, the rangers were long gone, presumably in pursuit.

I climbed down from the truck and walked the riverbank. Upriver and across, I could spot a distant hint of Jade’s bungalow hidden among the bush. I’d had some of my best rangers patrolling the riverbank. I’d also had a ranger posted on Jade’s door. How the hell had Kumbuyo managed to infiltrate the reserve?

I clenched my fists. Goddamnit, this would’ve never happened if I’d been at the station. Jade could be dead by now. The mere thought made me gag. I swallowed a gulp of sour bile and forced myself to think rationally. If Kumbuyo had gone through the trouble of abducting Jade, it meant he wanted her alive. As long she was alive, I had a chance.

I crouched next to the footprints and the tire tracks my rangers had carefully preserved in an area marked in yellow crime tape. They were a good bunch. I would’ve been proud of them if I hadn’t been so consumed by the anguish churning in my gut. Kumbuyo could be torturing Jade right now. The fury. The helplessness. They threatened to rip my guts apart.

But I didn’t have time to dwell on my fears right now. I had to get to Jade. Kumbuyo could’ve taken her anywhere. The vastness and wildness of the area would make tracking him extraordinarily difficult, if not impossible. But I had an ace up my sleeve, a contingency plan that could help, if only I could get close enough. For now, I focused on the tire tracks. I needed to go where they led.