Blood Forest (Suspense thriller) (31 page)

29

R
ainwater soaked Ike’s clothes and every time he brushed by a plant or tree another bucket spilled onto him. The wetness chilled his bones despite the warm jungle air. But as he moved away from the militia encampment a plan formed in his mind.

They were
Askari Nahuru
, and although the name suggested a liberating force, in the Congo they were infamous for their cruelty and brutality. Originally backed by Uganda, even their parent nation had withdrawn support. It made Ike wonder how the
Askari Nahuru
had managed to keep up the fighting; and with such wonderful toys. Looting and pillaging only provided so much.

It made sense that they were in such a crazy jungle. Evil attracts evil. Ike’s fingers searched his pocket for the tiny diamond ring, and he silently cursed the day he had ever heard the words
Msitu Wa Damu.

It took Ike a while to find where he had left the others in the darkness. When he pushed through the foliage into the clearing, he was shocked at the scene before him.

Gilles sat against a tree, holding a hand to his bloodied face. Ike’s Desert Eagle lay in the mud to his right. Delani lay on the opposite side of him, his knuckles bloodied, his expression tense and confused. Raoul and Brandon sat together across the way, covered in mud. Ike felt the tension, thicker than the humidity.

“Is everybody alright?” he asked.

All eyes turned to him. “It happened again,” the American explained.

“What did exactly?”

“The forest. I thought they were going to kill each other.”

“But?”

“It stopped,” he went on. “For no reason, it just stopped all of a sudden.”

Ike didn’t know how to respond, so he just nodded.

Delani climbed to his feet. “Did you find their camp?”

“I did, mate,” Ike replied. “It isn’t far.”

“And how many?”

“I’d estimate about three dozen.”

“Firepower?”

“They have assault rifles, Kalashnikovs. They’ve got chainsaws and explosives. Two Jeeps—one’s got a nice looking machine gun on it—four motorbikes that I saw. And then a big trailer truck.”

“That’s too much. We’re outnumbered and outgunned.”

“They’re sleeping, a scattered watch. It shouldn’t be too hard to get in and out.”

“Do you have a plan?”

Ike gave his crocodile grin. “Of course I do, mate.”

Delani nodded. “What is it?”

“Sabotage and egress,” Ike answered simply. “Smash and grab. It’ll take everyone we’ve got though. That includes Devereaux and Summers.”

“What do you want me to do?” Brandon asked.

Ike regarded the American. “Well. The question is how bad do you want your plane back?”

Brandon had hardly thought about his plane since Sam had gone missing. He would have been perfectly happy being stranded in any godforsaken hellhole as long as his wife was with him. And a few hundred thousand dollars didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. But when Ike explained his plan, the true question was not whether Brandon wanted the plane, but whether he could pull off what Ike wanted him to do.

Ike led them through the dark jungle. They moved slowly to keep quiet and to help Ike remember his original path. A mistake could take them right into an enemy guard. With every step, Brandon’s nerves tightened. He could be walking into a combat zone. He was in way over his head.

Brandon spotted a campfire in the darkness. A few shafts of moonlight broke through the clouds and lit up the clearing. Hacked and battered foliage surrounded the hole in the forest. Ike led them right up to the edge and showed them the encampment.

An array of tents spread out to the right, interspersed with men in rolled blankets. Straight ahead were Jeeps. Moonlight glistened off the long barrel of a mounted machine gun. It occurred to Brandon that such a large weapon might be able to shoot down a small aircraft. A single guard sat by the Jeeps, with a weapon leaned against his shoulder.

Not far from the Jeeps were the motorbikes. They had thick, treaded tires for maneuvering on dirt and muddy ground and were built light for speed and agility.

Although only one man guarded these vehicles, they were close to the tents and sleeping soldiers. The chance that none of those men were at least partially awake was very slim.

To the left of those vehicles, sitting amidst the hacked apart undergrowth, was a massive red truck and long trailer. The battered Cessna sat atop the trailer. Its wings had been removed and propped against it for ease of transport. Brandon wondered if his belongings were still inside or if the rebels had stolen them.

The trailer sat on the side of the clearing leading away from the river. He studied the hacked path leading into the forest. Somewhere that path would reach a road.

Ike pointed out the watch guards at the perimeter of the camp, six total, not including the man by the vehicles. Only some were visible in the darkness.

“You blokes ready?” he asked. “Once we split up, we’re not gonna be able to communicate,” he warned them. “But if everybody does their part, we should be okay.”

He nodded to Delani and Gilles and the two men slipped off to the left, disappearing in the dark forest. He whispered to Raoul in French, and then turned to Brandon. “When you see him drop, start moving. Don’t let them see you or you’re dead meat and everything’s blown.”

Brandon nodded and kneaded his sweaty palms together.

Ike slipped into the clearing.

The moon glowed silver, crossed by black clouds, and shed luminous beams on the vehicles. The distant noises of the jungle quieted, as if the whole forest had fallen asleep. Only the faint sound of snoring reached Ike’s ears. Like music.

Tonight, Ike would not be running. Tonight, he would not be holding his gun, watching the action unfold in front of him. He would not be powerless. Tonight, his training would be put to use. Tonight, he would kill.

It should not make him so happy, he mused.

Ike crawled on his elbows. He held his Desert Eagle in one hand, his knife in the other. His head stayed just below the grass, invisible in the dark.

His target stood between the two Jeeps, so Ike used one as cover. Soon, the top of the man’s head disappeared behind the vehicle. Ike gazed under the Jeep, at the man’s boots on the other side.

He slid right up to the Jeep and pressed his back against it. From the position of the man’s toes, the soldier faced inconveniently in his direction.

Ike slipped his pistol into its holster and closed his fingers around the hilt of his knife. With his off-hand, he grazed the ground, searching for a pebble of adequate size. He moved to his feet, crouched. He dared not peek at his adversary for fear of giving himself away.

In one swift motion, Ike tossed the pebble in the direction of the tents and then darted left, rising to his feet. The Australian mercenary leapt up and rolled across the hood of the car, knife swinging in his outstretched arm. The soldier looked back from the distraction, eyes wide with surprise. His weapon rose, and he opened his mouth to scream.

Ike kicked the weapon aside. The knife plunged into the man’s throat, even as Ike’s off-hand clamped over the man’s mouth. The soldier gurgled and tried to scream, his knees buckling. Blood oozed over Ike’s muscled forearms, hot and sticky.

Slowly, the mercenary eased the soldier to the ground. The weapon fell at Ike’s feet. He picked up the short, thick-barreled cylinder and searched the man for extra ammunition.

For Brandon, the sight was surreal, even from across the clearing. With ease, the Australian brought the soldier to the ground. Not a single sound rang out and the camp remained still and oblivious.

“That’s our cue,” Brandon whispered.

Raoul was already up and moving. The Frenchman cut to the right, running through the grass after Ike toward the Jeep.

Brandon eyed his own target, the disassembled plane on the trailer truck. Mustering his nerve with one final breath, he pushed through the line of hacked undergrowth and into the clearing. The sky opened up above him, a few stars peeking through the scattered cloud cover. He felt vulnerable, naked.

His feet crunched through the grasses, sounding entirely too loud. He kept his target in mind, aiming for the driver’s side door of the big truck.

Once Delani had placed the body of Nessa Singer and their supplies in position up the trail, he jogged back through the dark forest. His next task was to move around and catch the closest perimeter guard by surprise. Gilles would take the other, so that there would be no one firing at them as they escaped.

Finding his way through the maze of trees with almost no visibility proved more difficult than he initially anticipated. After a few long minutes, he began to think he’d gone too far.

As he stumbled around the trunk of a tree, nearly tripping on its thick roots, a shadow rose up before him. Delani’s heart thumped when he realized he’d erred.

The soldier spun slowly, assault rifle in hands. Barrel-chested and with thick trunk-like arms, he stood as an imposing figure to the South African. But Delani was less surprised then his opponent.

His long knife came up, his arm turned in at the elbow. He thrust the blade toward the man’s neck, but the soldier reacted, bringing his arm up to block. Delani muttered a silent curse as the two fumbled backward over the roots of the tree.

And then the worst thing possible happened.

The soldier squeezed the trigger.

Lutalo walked along the perimeter of the clearing, never fooled by a peaceful night. His wild eyes lingered over the sleeping tent, ready for another bout of madness. He already had to put down a man the night before. The soldier had awakened raving like a lunatic. Lutalo didn’t hesitate. That quality had placed him close to the general. He could end a man’s life without a second thought.

A flicker of movement between the Jeeps caught his attention as he walked across the grassy plain. When his eyes locked on the vehicles, the guard stationed there was nowhere to be found.

Lutalo narrowed his eyes curiously as he headed over.

As he moved around the passenger side of the big truck, he spotted a silhouette crouched between the wheels of the Jeep. From this distance, the man was only a shadow, but he seemed to be inspecting something near one of the Jeep’s wheels.

Had the guard found something unusual there?

Lutalo was going to find out when a rattle of gunfire sounded in the distance. He spun, looking at the wall of forest. Just beyond the forest line, he had stationed a sentry.