The Geneva Decision (12 page)

Pia managed not to ask,
What about getting into the shooting?
Instead, she looked around at the decks and the thick metal shielding. She asked, “Bullet-proof?”

“Grenade-proof.”

Sunrise broke over Mount Cameroon into a cloudless sky. The early fog burned off quickly, leaving a hot unfiltered sun. The smell of warming beach and fish filled the air. She watched the endless jungle pass by and felt the salt-water breeze rough her skin like fine sandpaper.

They stopped off the coast of Idenao to pick up Calixthe Ebokea, the villager from the delta. She had a triangular face and sharp eyes that assessed everyone with quick, stabbing glances. Gray streaks peeked out beneath her gele and she wore a dark dashiki and leggings with threadbare sneakers.

Shaded from the intense sun by a large awning, they grouped around a table with a map in the center they weighted with handguns laid on each corner.

As Pia joined her agents on the spacious aft deck, Monique glanced up.

“Calixthe is from Bekumu, here at the end of the river,” the investigator said. “She says the pirates are deep in the mangroves in this area.” Her hand swept over a featureless area to the north and west. “She can lead you to their general vicinity, within a mile. But she wants your help first.”

Calixthe showed them where a river ran parallel to the coast for nearly ten kilometers before turning into the ocean. A wide stretch of land and mangroves separated ocean and river.

“Slavers,” Calixthe spoke with a hard voice and an African cadence. “Europeans with big promises. They say our women will have jobs in Belgium or France or Denmark. The women are forced into prostitution. These men have been here before. We know their lies. This time they come to Bekumu and take many women by force. I come to Limbe yesterday but the authorities, they do not listen. The police work only for bribes. You help me get the young women back. Then I help you find the white men you seek.”

“Not a problem,” Tania said. “How many men?”

“Three, maybe four.”

Pia held up a hand and eyed her people quickly. No one spoke. She turned to Calixthe.

“Where are they?”

“Here, an abandoned village called Boa.” She pointed to a bend in the long coastal river.

“How long ago?”

“A week.”

“Where are the men from your village?” Pia asked.

“Mostly at sea. They work the drilling rigs for two weeks, maybe three. Others are out fishing. They will not be back for another week.”

Pia nodded in the direction of the wheelhouse. Monique led Calixthe away, giving Pia privacy with her team.

“Perfect,” Tania said. “We do a good deed and get—”

“Whoa,” Jacob and Ezra said at the same time.

“Bad idea,” Jacob said. “Really bad.”

Pia frowned. “Why?”

“We need to keep focused,” he said. “We stick to our mission, obtain our goals. Traffickers in drugs, guns, women, whatever, are not our problem. We start down that path and every village will want us to run off their criminals. We’ll have to pull a coup d’etat and run the country.”

“Ezra?” Pia asked.

“What he said.” Ezra pointed at Jacob.

Pia looked to Marty next.

“I say it’s a win-win,” Marty said. “We take down some slavers and we have jungle swag. Villagers all over the delta will love us. This is something we have to do.”

Pia read the faces of the others. Miguel, indifferent. The Major, waiting for a decision. The others had spoken.

“Three or four men in the jungle,” she said. “How dangerous is it from a tactical standpoint?”

Jacob rubbed his jaw. “A couple of us do a quick recon to verify the target, shouldn’t be a problem. If she’s right about the numbers. If she’s wrong, we could be in deep.”

“Risk for the recon trip?” Pia asked.

“Low,” Ezra said. “We swing around wide, in and out in a couple hours.”

“If recon shows three men, ten hostages, what’s the risk of going in?”

“Still low,” Jacob said. “Tania can take down three men after an all-night party. I’ve seen her do it. I just don’t like straying from the mission.”

“I can live with it,” Ezra said.

“We should stick to the plan,” Jacob said. “Get the pirates. Find ’em and take ’em down. None of this save the world crap. That kind of thing gets you killed.”

“We’re doing it,” Pia said. “We can’t buy information so we have to work for it.”

Everyone stared at Jacob. He shuffled from foot to foot.

“Ah, screw it,” he said. “You guys want to go, I’ll go. Marty snipes, Ezra contains, Miguel and I take the recon.”

“No,” Pia said. “I’ll work the recon trip with Miguel and Marty. Everyone else gets ready for a quick trip up river if and when we confirm the enemy numbers.”

Everyone grunted agreement and headed toward the coffee bench. Tania watched Pia intently until Ezra handed her a cup.

Pia stepped to the Major, who leaned against the railing.

“You handled that well,” the Major said.

Pia nodded and looked out to sea. “Thanks. Good idea?”

“No. I’m with Jacob—stick to the mission.”

“Should I—”

“You should never second guess an order.” She straightened. “Make sure you have it right the first time.”

Pia went back to the map and looked it over. Her finger traced the river from its source near Bekumu, down the coast, until it swept into a broad P-shaped curve, with the P lying on its back. Boa stood at the top of the curve. From the village to the coast was three kilometers of open beach with a broad channel. A quick trip for the
Limbe Explorer
if the recon confirmed things, a quick evac if it didn’t.

A couple yards away from her, Monique answered her cell phone. “
Allo?”

The word caught Pia’s ear. Had it been Monique’s voice on the boys’ phone? French- speaking Douala was less than forty miles from Limbe. She couldn’t tell.

Monique handed out Egusi puddings wrapped in banana leaves—a spicy pumpkin seed mash with ground fish and meats, Cameroon’s version of a protein bar. The group feasted, some more willingly than others.

The Major sat on one side of Pia, Ezra on the other. They watched the coastline as they passed. Small strips of beach glowed with white sand and dark trees leaned over the water between them. They chatted about the beauty of the coastline and the birds of Cameroon. Then there was a lull, each of them thinking about the day ahead.

“Could be some gunfire today,” Ezra said. “We do everything right, the only people who will die this morning are slavers.”

Pia and the Major nodded.

Ezra said, “Major, I know you’ve had to kill in the line of duty. Not easy, but you survived, you were trained for it. However you, Ms. Sabel… well, there are company rumors. Lots of variations but all of them similar. One in particular is pretty hard to believe. So I have to ask. Have you ever killed anyone?”

Chapter 18

Niger Delta, Cameroon

26-May, 9AM

M
iguel piloted their Zodiac between islands of mangrove and sand. Water, crystal clear in the shallows and stained the color of dark tea, flowed in the tangle of tidal channels. Rock and coral lay inches below the surface in some places, sand as smooth as china in others.

Following Calixthe’s suggestion, they threaded their way to the river and bypassed her village to prevent any news of their arrival reaching Boa. They went upstream from Boa, in the opposite direction from where lookouts might keep watch on the river’s mouth. Once they reached the main part of the river, they hugged the shore. They stopped when they came to an overland trail between the villages. After they dragged the Zodiac up into a spot where it wouldn’t be seen, they strapped on their gear and headed out. Pia tugged on her Kevlar vest unsure if she’d ever get used to it. Calixthe led at an easy run.

Half a kilometer in, the mangroves gave way to lush jungle. Daggers of sunlight stabbed through the canopy, flashing off Calixthe’s back like a strobe as she ran. Something bothered Pia at the back of her brain, as if she should recognize a danger but wasn’t clear about what it was. Were her nerves fraying on her first mission? She shook it off and ran.

There was more open space between the trees and bushes than Pia expected. Pillars of trees supported an arched canopy a hundred feet above them, as if she were in a gothic cathedral. Miguel and Marty kept close, occasionally checking the rear for followers. While they ran, Calixthe told them she’d sent young boys up this same path to spy on the slavers, and in twenty trips they’d encountered slavers only three times. She was confident they’d remain undetected.

As they neared Boa, packed dirt and clay turned to sand and pebbles under their feet. Lava flows formed rock walls in places. Glimpses of a cliff face loomed above them, visible from time to time through the tree branches. They climbed over a lava flow as tall and wide as a city bus and continued until the dirt and jungle suddenly stopped. A pond of hardened lava blocked the way forward, its swirls and currents permanently embedded in cold black stone.

Calixthe pointed across the flow.

“From here we can climb the cliffs or go through the jungle.”

“Open country up there.” Pia said. She looked at Miguel and Marty. “You two find some high ground, triangulate your views, let me know what you see. Calixthe and I will get in close on the ground. Keep in touch.”

She tapped the Bluetooth earbud of her comlink.

Miguel started to object, but Marty tapped his shoulder, tossed his chin at the cliff and headed out at a jog. Miguel shook his head but caught up with Marty.

Pia checked her waist pack. It held her Glock and three spare magazines. Two magazines held darts, one held hollow points. Nine shots per magazine. She slung an M4 over her shoulder with one magazine carrying thirty 9mm darts. No lead.

Calixthe looked her up and down, then disappeared into the jungle. Pia followed.

A few minutes later, Marty reported in. “In position now. I have one large clearing straight in front of you and another half a kilometer north. No movement.”

Miguel’s voice came next: “Same.”

Pia tapped Calixthe. “How close are we?”

Calixthe answered by drawing back a large leaf. Beyond it lay a wattle-and-daub hut. Beyond the hut, a clearing and a fire pit. Farther out were a couple more huts peeking between the foliage. Calixthe motioned Pia to follow and moved to the right. A hundred meters farther, she crouched and pulled back a fern. A large hut on short stilts sat across a dirt courtyard. Five smaller huts surrounded it. A twenty-meter perimeter, cleared of vegetation, gave them a view of the village.

In the center, two white men in shorts sunned themselves in rickety lawn chairs. One was short and round, his big gut visible through his open shirt; what little hair he had left fell in an unkempt halo around his ears. The other was taller and pale with a full head of dark hair and a trimmed beard. Big-gut pushed fifty while Tall-guy looked younger, maybe thirty. A large bottle of booze was on the ground between them.

Pia waved Calixthe back, deeper into the jungle. Calixthe followed, then stumbled. A bird took off. Pia crouched and watched the men with her hand on Calixthe’s back, holding her down. Pia’s heart pounded so loud in her chest she was sure the men could hear it. But the men didn’t even glance up. After a full minute, Pia started breathing again and helped Calixthe to her feet. She glanced around to find what tripped her guide but saw nothing.

Fifty meters deeper into the jungle, Calixthe pointed to a large stand of bamboo with an opening like the letter C, but big enough for several people to stand in the center somewhat hidden. Matted grass in the middle indicated an animal den of some kind.

Pia took her earbud off mute and discussed the situation with Marty and Miguel in tense whispers. They repositioned themselves on the cliff until they could see the huts and the white men. Neither saw evidence of women held against their will. In fact, they saw no women at all. Pia would have to move around the clearing to gather more information.

She and Calixthe circled the huts twice. Still no sign of the captives. The women must be held in the large central hut. They had to get a look inside.

“They are in there,” Calixthe whispered. “I told you.”

Pia silenced her with a finger and shook her head. They crept back to edge of the clearing and watched as Marty fired a conventional shot. The loud report echoed through the jungle, setting off birds and monkeys. The two men leapt to their feet. A boy wearing shorts and a faded shirt came to the doorway of a hut.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Big-gut asked.

“Hunters?” Tall-guy said.

Big-gut turned to the boy in the doorway.

“Oi, Delany. What the hell you doing there? Your watch now, yeah?”

Delany, possibly twenty, small and skittish, fled into the jungle. Pia watched him disappear. Calixthe touched her and pointed. Pia held up three fingers, meaning three targets. Calixthe shook her head and held up four. She pointed in the opposite direction from Delany’s route.

“Elgin Thomas would do a cheeky thing like that, you know,” Big-gut said. “Send a man round back to see if we’re watching both sides.” A nervous laugh. “Bugger us both for it, he would.”

Tall-guy looked down at him and frowned. Big-gut picked up the bottle and chugged three or four ounces. He offered it to Tall-guy, who shook his head and squinted into the jungle.

Pia’s panic level ratcheted up a notch. She felt an immediate danger, but what? She tugged Calixthe and they withdrew to the bamboo again to consult with Marty and Miguel.

“We think there are four of them,” Pia said.

Marty asked, “Sure enough to bet your life on it?”

Chapter 19

26-May, 10AM

C
aptain Whittier stepped up to Major Jonelle Jackson.

“Your friends all set, then?”

“They’re doing well.” She pointed to a ship some distance out to sea. “What kind of ship is that?”

“Deep sea trawler. A bit unusual for these waters—too shallow here, I’d think. They were approaching but stopped out there. Can’t imagine what they’d fish for here. I hailed them but they’ve not responded.”