The Greystoke Legacy (20 page)

“And that's why you ran away?” Jane probed.

Robbie remained silent. He couldn't tell her the truth . . . could he? He had wanted to confess his sins in the vain hope that he would feel better and be released from the guilt he had been hoarding. He just couldn't bring himself to do it. Not here, not now. What would Jane think of him if she knew the terrible truth?

They were both tight-lipped until the rain picked up again and relentlessly drummed on the jeep's roof and obscured the windows. They had to be close to the camp, but Robbie could see no sign of it.

“You tried to kill him, didn't you?” said Jane suddenly.

Robbie was so shocked that the jeep almost veered off the road as he stared at her. Jane yelled, reaching over to correct his steering. The vehicle skidded back on track.

“Watch it!” snapped Jane.

“How do you know?” barked Robbie.

“I read about it on the Internet.”

Jane didn't look at him. Robbie opened his mouth a few times to shout, to argue, to accuse her of spying . . . but a large part of him was glad his secret was out.

“I took a wrench from his toolbox. He was just sitting there with his back to me, laughing at the TV while Sophie lay dead.” His voice was bitter, his lip curled in a snarl as he relived the emotions. “He didn't hear me coming. I just walked up and slugged him on the head.” He winced, remembering the terrible crack his stepfather's skull had made, and the blood . . . so much blood.

“I just turned. Turned and ran.” To his surprise Jane squeezed his arm in sympathy. “So . . . there you have it. That's why I ran. I'm a murderer.”

The words were like lead in his mouth, but the moment they had escaped he felt a weight had shifted from his shoulders. He glanced at Jane, thinking it was odd that she hadn't recoiled in fear. Ahead, the perimeter lights of the encampment twinkled through the trees.

“We're back,” he said, relieved they had spoken but thankful he could scurry off to find some solitude.

“You're wrong, you know,” said Jane softly.

Robbie parked next to the bar. He killed the engine. “Wrong about what?”

Jane climbed from the jeep, keen to stretch her legs.

Robbie followed her out, confused as to why she was taking the news so well. “I don't get it. What am I wrong about?”

Jane shook her head and was about to reply—

Automatic gunfire sliced through the air and Robbie and Jane threw themselves to the ground. Bapoto stood on the bar's porch, an AK-47 pointed menacingly at them. His sickening grin made it clear the next shots wouldn't be warning ones.

Tafari stepped from the bar, smoking a cheap cigar and dressed in dirty military fatigues. Robbie caught a glimpse inside the building—it had been trashed. Everybody was inside, on their knees, hands on their heads, Tafari's militia guarding them.

“You must be the daughter,
non
?” Jane looked defiantly at him. “Not one for conversation, eh? Well, you must think me rude. I am General Tafari, but you know that already, huh? Is that what you went to town for? To report where I am?”

“We went for food and supplies—” said Robbie before Bapoto whacked him across the cheek with the butt of his rifle.

Tafari shot his man an annoyed glance. “You are supposed to do that if he
doesn't
talk. Not shut him up!”

“He was telling the truth,” said Jane. “We had to get supplies. We never said a word about you, why would we?”

Tafari scrutinized her and Jane stuck her chin defiantly out. “You have more courage than your father. He groveled for mercy.”

Jane refused to be intimidated. She had stood her ground while being charged by a bull gorilla; in comparison Tafari was nothing.

“You're pathetic!”

Tafari laughed and wagged a finger at her. “I see I must watch you most carefully. It is unfortunate for you that you said nothing, ha-ha! Now we have no need to worry that the cavalry will be looking for you!” He leaned close and blew foul smoke at her. “Out here, the jungle will swallow you whole and spit you out. You will not be missed.” He nodded to Bapoto. “Bring them out.”

Bapoto nudged the bar door open and shouted to his men. The loggers were led out at gunpoint, their paths illuminated by the flashlights strapped to the soldiers' rifles.

Robbie winced when he saw that Archie, Clark, Esmée, and Mister David had been beaten. Clark appeared to have taken the brunt of it and his right eye was swollen shut. As soon as Archie saw Jane he motioned toward her.

“Have they hurt you?”

Bapoto punched Archie in the gut—Jane swung for the thug, but stopped when Oudry pointed a rifle at her face.

Esmée glanced at Robbie and Jane, her face glazed in terror, and Robbie guessed she was reliving the trauma she'd experienced during the war. Robbie counted only fifteen people, excluding himself and Jane. Whether the missing men had fled or been murdered he couldn't guess. Bapoto ordered the prisoners to kneel in the mud and Robbie feared the worst—it was beginning to look like an execution. Tafari gripped him around the collar and booted him in the backside.

“Join them. You too,” he said, shoving Jane.

Robbie refused to kneel but a guard delivered a swift rifle butt to the back of his legs to drop him. Jane knelt, scowling at her captors. All the captives looked miserable, rain soaking them. Tafari strutted, puffing cloying cigar smoke.

“Some would say I am a generous man. I gave you the right to cut my trees down. I gave you protection and what do you give me in return? You try to overthrow me!” Tafari's paranoia had grown during the forced march to the loggers' camp. With each step Tafari was increasingly convinced the Americans were using the logging as a pretext to overthrow him.

“I told you,” croaked Archie through a split lip. “We thought you were sabotaging our equipment. Why would we do the same to you?”

“You continue with your lies! Should I cut your deceitful tongue out?” He pulled a knife from his belt. The blade was wicked and black. He yanked Archie's head back, squeezing his jaw open with one hand.

“NO!” screamed Jane. “It wasn't us! It was Tarzan. He's the
Negoogunogumbar
!”

Tafari immediately stopped and Jane reveled in the frightened expression on face. Evidently he was a superstitious man.

“She tells the truth,” said Mister David. The guard nearest him raised his rifle to strike him silent, but stopped when Tafari gestured for him to continue. “The spirit has been hounding our men. Stealing and breaking equipment. This forest is cursed.”

Jane caught Mister David's eye; did he believe her now?

The rebels exchanged uneasy looks. Murder and war was only fun when the dead didn't return for retribution. Tafari could see his men weaken and cut their jabbering with a sharp cry.

“Enough of this folklore! Tie them up.” He whirled round to face Archie. “If this place is truly haunted then we will raze it to the ground.”

The hands of the fifteen prisoners were tied with plastic cable ties that looped around the wrists and tightened painfully. Archie and Clark watched in despair as Tafari organized his men to torch the camp. They used the extra fuel Robbie had brought back to feed the fire. Despite the driving rain, every building went up in magnificent orange flames.

Archie and Clark watched as their dreams for the future were destroyed. Then again, their hopes for even a short-term future were looking uncertain.

Tafari rounded his men up and they filed the prisoners from Karibu Mji as it burned down behind them.

•••

The guerrillas had hiked for a day and a half, initially following the route Bapoto had taken around the base of the mountain so they could surprise the loggers. On an impulse, Tafari had diverted them over the uncharted mountain, a tactic that had gained them half a day. However, now the raid was over, they took the easier route back, following the dirt track that led to the valley, beyond which lay their barracks.

Robbie and Jane walked together, heads bowed against the rain. They were soaked to the skin.

“He bought that Tarzan line,” muttered Robbie.

“Did you see his face? He knows it's true,” said Jane with a smile. “I didn't hallucinate anything.”

“Well, if your mysterious Tarzan was around why didn't he try to rescue us? I think we should start taking things into our own hands.”

He checked nobody was watching. The Stygian darkness provided the perfect cover as he pulled out his pocketknife. With some difficulty he opened the blade.

“What are you doing?” hissed Jane as he sawed through her plastic restraint.

“Keep you hands together. Make it look like they're still tied. Now do mine.”

Jane checked nobody was looking. The guerrillas kept to the flanks, heavy hoods pulled over their heads to shield them from the elements. Rain dripped from the weapon barrels poking from under their ponchos. They didn't pay any attention to their prisoners as Jane cut Robbie's cuffs.

From their position near the rear of the procession, Jane couldn't see how it was possible to pass the knife to any other logger. Her father, Clark, and Esmée were at the front, too far to get a whispered message to.

“What now?”

“We make a run for it as soon as we can.”

Jane was aghast. “What about the others?”

“There's thirty-three rebels and seventeen of us,” Robbie whispered grimly. “We better hope we can get away for help and they don't hurt the others.”

“We can't just leave them!”

“If you have any better ideas let me know,” said Robbie helplessly. Running was their only choice and it was a desperate one. He didn't harbor any doubts that Tafari would rather shoot them in the back of the head than let them escape.

Jane understood their situation was dire. This could be the last chance she had to speak to Robbie.

“Remember what I said earlier, about your sister?”

“Not now,” hissed Robbie. “Eyes right, the ground slopes away.”

Jane glanced across. In the light offered by a rebel's flashlight she could see the side of the track was a sharp incline into thick bush. A flicker of approaching lightning revealed that it was their best opportunity for escape.

“We go together. On three.”

Robbie tensed, his heartbeat increased as he counted. Blood pounded in his ears and his own voice became indistinct. He just hoped Jane could hear him.

“Three!”

He shoved Jane off the trail and they both slid down the muddy incline. The darkness and rain gave them several seconds' lead before the nearest captor realized what the noise was.

“
Arrêtez
!” He fired blindly.

Robbie and Jane ran for their lives. Bullets whizzed around them, thunking into the ground or splintering wood in the darkness ahead. They had no illumination because storm clouds blocked the moon. Branches slapped them in the face and roots and creepers tripped them as they ran. Jane grabbed Robbie's belt. If they were separated in the darkness they stood no chance.

The shouting behind them increased and gunfire cracked through the darkness. She prayed Tafari was not punishing the other prisoners for their actions. A quick look over her shoulder revealed a dozen flashlights bobbing in their direction. Then a clear voice rang out:

“I see them!”

Robbie dragged Jane sharply to one side as bullets shredded a tree next to them. Sharp splinters of wood struck his cheek. The ground suddenly gave way to water and Jane stumbled. For a second she feared they had run into a river—a fate that could deliver a quicker death than their pursuers. Lightning revealed they were in a stream. Robbie stepped up the pace as the flashlights kept in pursuit.

“Come on!” he shouted encouragingly, clambering up the bank.

His foot suddenly slid into a burrow. With a sickening crunch Robbie keeled over. White-hot pain seared through his leg.

Jane was several feet ahead before she realized Robbie had fallen. She raced back to him, as lightning rippled.

“What's wrong?”

“Think my ankle's broken!” he hissed in pain.

The flashlights were rapidly approaching, the voices getting louder. She tried to help him stand.

“On your feet!” she growled.

Movement just made the pain worse and Robbie crumpled. He pushed Jane away.

“Go! Get out of here!”

“I can't just leave you here!”

“Run!”

Jane's hesitation cost her dearly. The flashlights were suddenly veering toward them and weapons were armed with a cold click-clack. Robbie raised his hands.

“I surrender.”

Bapoto pushed through his men and sneered when he saw Robbie's predicament. “Does it hurt?”

Robbie remained defiantly silent. Bapoto placed a chunky boot on Robbie's ankle and pressed. “What about now?”

Robbie screamed in pain—then suddenly spluttered into silence. Bapoto thought he had passed out, which was a shame because he had planned to inflict a lot more pain. But Robbie was staring upward, his mouth open in astonishment. Bapoto followed his gaze to the dark canopy.

For a split second, lightning silhouetted the muscular figure standing in the boughs above them.

“Tarzan!” yelled Jane in delight.

As they were plunged back into darkness, the two men either side of Bapoto were jerked into the air, their fingers scrabbling at the nooses around their necks. One man dropped his gun while the other kept his finger on the trigger as he was hoisted up.

The gun's strobing muzzle flashes made the unfolding events difficult to follow. The automatic's stray fire was capable of six hundred rounds per minute—and the choking man emptied a full clip, half of which raked into another rebel, killing him instantly.

Bapoto fired into the tree as everybody's flashlights convened to where they thought the mysterious figure was—but the bullets just chewed up an empty branch.