The Jungle Warrior (15 page)

Kwasi's eyes darted to the pocket Clark had stuffed his cash in. The boy was observant, he'd give him that. It was also clearly the end of the conversation unless more money was offered. Clark reluctantly rolled out a note. Kwasi took it and stared at it critically.

“That's all you're gettin', mate,” said Clark. “I don't pay when I don't know what I'm gettin'. Let me decide if it's worth more.”

Clark reached to take the note away but Kwasi's hand moved fast, stashing the money in his ripped jeans. He flashed another toothy smile.

“I like you,” said Kwasi. “You give me good custom. Which is why, when I hear there is a man in the town downriver, asking questions about an American teenager . . . then I should maybe worry about keeping my business flowing,
non
?”

Although the nearest town was almost fifty miles away, news and gossip traveled fast between fishermen and black-market traders. New faces were always top of the list, just in case they posed a threat to the town's illegal lifeblood.

“Is he comin' this way?” Clark asked. Kwasi nodded. “You know what he's been askin' about?”

“Just about him. Not you. The man is an American also.”

Clark had asked Robbie nothing about his past, but this development was making him wonder about Jane's comment concerning Robbie's stepfather. Would the anonymity policy he set among the camp workers come back to bite him? He pushed a bundle of notes into Kwasi's hand. It was probably more than the café owner made in a month.

“Keep your ears open. If he comes here, tell him nothin' and see no one else does, OK?” Kwasi nodded enthusiastically. “Try an' find out more about him. Let me know.”

Clark headed to the jeep to wait for Mister David. This was worrying news. He only hoped that whatever Robbie had done, it wasn't going to have repercussions on the camp. Clark sat in the jeep and pulled out his sat phone. He stared at it wondering if he should let Robbie know, or wait until they had proof of Tarzan's link to Greystoke.

•••

Being rescued from the freighter's hold was a relatively simple, if frightening, affair. The water inside had continued to rise, forcing Robbie and Jane up toward the hatch. Jane was able to use her backpack as a flotation device and they both clung to it. While it was terrifying to be sloshed around in utter darkness, they were unharmed. Tarzan only had to lean down into the hatch and pull them out. They ran to the stern as the big ship wallowed into deeper water and Tarzan pushed them to jump into the branches of an overhanging tree before they were pulled further away from the shoreline.

Jane secured her backpack and made the jump with ease. Robbie hesitated—unlike Jane, he had never experienced a giddying free-running­ ride through the jungle canopy with Tarzan. In the half-moonlight, Robbie saw the gap between the boat and tree increasing. With a deep breath he took a running jump, closing his eyes as he did so. He struck a thick branch, which swayed wildly and almost threw him off. Jane pulled him up to safety and Tarzan joined them moments later.

Exhausted, they watched the stricken vessel slowly vanish beneath the river's surface. The crocodiles and tiger fish, bloated from their feast, disappeared into the night. Tarzan declared they would sleep in the tree, for safety, then said nothing further. Looking morose, he just gazed in the direction Rokoff had fled.

“Maybe we should go back and check the rest of your family are OK?” said Jane after a weighty silence. “They need you too.”

Tarzan nodded slowly. In the pale light, Robbie saw the pain on Tarzan's face. He felt wretched, knowing he was to blame for bringing Rokoff into their lives.

“We're not going back,” Robbie stated firmly.

“There's no way we can chase Rokoff in a helicopter,” Jane stated flatly.

“You're wrong,” he said. “We
can
find him.” He could hardly believe he was suggesting this when Jane had just given him an opportunity to see Tarzan's home.

Fatigue had worn Jane's patience down. “How?”

“With this.” Robbie held up the GPS that he dug out of Jane's backpack. A blip flashed on the screen. “Now we know exactly where he is.”

Jane's face lit up in a smile. “How is that possible?”

“When Rokoff pushed the gun against my head I slipped a GPS tracker in his jacket. After being treated like that, I really didn't want to see him get away scot-free.”

He was surprised when Jane promptly hugged him, laughing gleefully. She snatched the GPS from Robbie and showed it to Tarzan.

“This is where Karnath is! We can still find him! By the look of things they've already stopped.”

Tarzan looked at the flashing GPS in confusion. He clearly didn't understand. Robbie smiled and leaned back, closing his eyes; it would be amusing to hear Jane explain the tracking device to the wild man. He fell asleep moments later.

•••

Jane woke from a deep slumber, instantly aware that a small gecko was scampering across her jeans. The little lizard was no threat, so she gently shook her leg to frighten it enough to run away. Not so long ago she would have freaked out over such an encounter and it made her realize just how much she was feeling at home in the wild.

She heard Robbie speaking in a low voice down on the ground. There was no sign of Tarzan, but Robbie was eating fruit as he talked into his sat phone.

Jane clambered down the broad tree trunk. The tree grew at a slight angle, and its trunk was pitted with knots and handholds that made it ideal for climbing. Robbie hung up the phone before she jumped the last couple of feet to the ground.

“Was that my dad?”

“Clark,” said Robbie.

“Worrying about us again? Where's Tarzan?”

“He said he'd scout the path ahead.” He pointed to several unusual fruits stacked on a stone. “He left breakfast.”

Jane sniffed them. She couldn't identify the smell so pulled one open, revealing green pulp inside. She took a small bite and it tasted good. She ate three before noticing that Robbie was looking thoughtfully across the river.

“What's on your mind?”

Robbie didn't respond. It was as if he hadn't even heard her. When she gently touched his shoulder he flinched.

“What's wrong?” she asked, now more concerned.

Robbie didn't answer at first. He handed her the water canteen he was holding and Jane took a long gulp to wash down the fruit.

“My sister . . .” Robbie was finding it difficult to get the words out. He took a deep breath and tried again. “I did a little more digging into Sophie's death.”

“Yeah, you said. You didn't kill your stepfather, so don't worry about it, and what happened to your sister—”

Robbie cut her off. “That's the point! I didn't kill him and I wish I had!”

“No, you don't.”

“You don't know what I think,” said Robbie in a whisper. He stared at the ground to collect his thoughts, then looked at her as if gauging her reaction. “I wish he was dead. And you know why? Because he's a murderer and a liar! He told the cops that not only did I try to kill him . . . but I killed Sophie too!”

Jane was horrified. “Are you sure?”

Robbie was choking with emotion, glad to finally get it all off his chest. “Positive. I'm now wanted for killing my own sister and the man who really did it is testifying against me and offering a cash reward! There's a worldwide manhunt out to find me!”

T
he tracker beacon always lay just ahead; always out of reach. Robbie had checked the GPS screen almost every half hour when they first started their hike through the jungle, but as the day wore on, he monitored their progress less and less.

Tarzan pushed them on, desperate to take to the trees and speed ahead but forced to slow down and wait for his guides. Robbie could see the frustration in his face and guessed that Tarzan disliked having to rely on others to lead the way. It went against every instinct the ape-man had.

Robbie welcomed the fast pace even if it was exhausting. He had taken the backpack from Jane, his clothes were drenched with sweat and he could barely feel his legs, but it kept his mind focused on the task at hand. He felt relieved that he had finally told Jane his problem. Somebody was looking for him, but he still didn't know who. Was it his stepfather? The cops? A private investigator?

Jane walked beside him saying very little. Robbie caught her occasionally glancing thoughtfully at him. He was starting to get paranoid—did she doubt his story about Sophie's death? Did she think he really was responsible?

As his mind whirred with doubt and guilt, the day was measured only in unfaltering footsteps. Minutes blurred into hours and muscles began to throb until Robbie was thankful for nightfall.

Dark clouds rolled in and fat raindrops stung as they fell. Tarzan found shelter under a fallen tree, snapping off branches to fashion a nest as the apes had taught him during his childhood. Robbie thought it was a waste of time until he lay down and discovered the branches had been woven together to form a comfortable bed that supported his aching limbs. He quickly fell asleep, lulled by the sound of the rain, but was haunted by bad dreams during the night.

The next morning Tarzan woke them in pre-dawn light, eager to move on.

Jane noticed that the GPS tracker had remained stationary overnight too. Robbie worried that Rokoff had found the tracker and thrown it away, but he didn't dare share his fears with the other two. Jane continued to be silent and withdrawn and it looked as if the pace of their hunt was beginning to wear her down as well.

Tarzan, too, spoke little, pushing them on with grim determination, pausing to read the signs in the earth and pick out the most direct animal trails. Robbie suspected that every time he vanished ahead, it was to clear their path from potential dangers that would slow them down. Once he returned covered in flecks of blood. Whether it was from a battle or a meal that hadn't escaped him, Robbie didn't know. They pressed on through the rain and didn't stop as lightning flickered through low clouds and thunder boomed with such fury that the jungle came alive with the shrieks of birds and monkeys.

Without the sun as a guide it was impossible to judge how much time had passed. Only by glancing at the clock on his sat phone did Robbie realize that hours were racing by. He almost didn't notice the jungle becoming less dense and the sickly humidity decrease. He nearly bumped into Jane before he looked up and realized they were standing on a lush green hill with knots of trees thinning out as the ground sloped away. In the distance, through the veil of rain, the grass gave way to rows of cultivated fields. Robbie felt a renewed hope at the signs of civilization. He checked the GPS and noticed the marker was moving again.

Tarzan wanted to follow the moving blip directly. However, Robbie convinced him they would be better heading to the location where Rokoff had spent a day. For all they knew the Russian had left Karnath where he'd stopped and was moving on.

So they pressed toward the fields. The storm passed and the moonlight guided their progress. Robbie guessed it must be close to midnight and that they had been walking in the darkness without a break. Just as he was thinking of insisting they stop, he saw white lights ahead, the beginnings of a sprawling town much larger than Sango.

“Where are we?” asked Jane.

Robbie glanced at the GPS. It was a straightforward interface that revealed no detail other than the distance and direction of Rokoff's blip to the east, heading toward the border.

“Can't be sure but at least we're still in the Democratic Republic of Congo. We've been heading steadily southeast. Rokoff's in that direction, still a day ahead but according to the waypoint marker, he spent almost twenty-four hours here.”

Tarzan studied the lights suspiciously. “If Rokoff not here then we go.”

Jane shook her head. “No, we decided, we need to find out why he spent so much time here. Maybe he left Karnath? We need to look around. Ask questions.”

For the first time, Robbie could see apprehension on Tarzan's face. Being so close to civilization made him nervous.

“I don't know about you guys, but the idea of walking around a possibly dangerous town at night isn't that appealing. I vote we sleep here. Check it out in the daytime,” he said.

To Robbie's surprise, Tarzan nodded. “Yes. Town not safe.”

They found a nearby tree and settled in the low branches. The air was far less humid than in the jungle, and Robbie enjoyed the cool breeze. The sounds around him were different here; insects and frogs chirped in the darkness but there were no cries of monkeys or birds.

They entered the town early next morning. Circled by plowed fields, it was a simple place with ramshackle buildings made from mud bricks and sheets of corrugated iron that had been daubed with bright colors. No structure stood higher than a single story, except an old weather-beaten church. Electricity came only from noisy gasoline generators at the back of bigger properties.

Robbie led the way, Tarzan keeping uncharacteristically behind. He was clearly ill at ease, his eyes darting from the single-story huts to the rubbish-strewn alleys between them. Market vendors were already beginning to set up their wares before the sun grew too hot. Carts were filled with peanuts still on their root branches, long brown cassavas, and a variety of spices. Tarzan tensed when they passed a stall with several dead crocodiles hanging from hooks, a buck of some kind, and several monkeys that had been dried in the sun and shriveled beyond recognition.

“A place of murder,” he muttered.

“It's food,” said Jane in a low voice, gently pushing Tarzan onward as he glared at the old man behind the cart. “We don't eat it raw, remember. We cook it.”

“You burn good flesh.”

Robbie was relieved that Jane didn't pursue the argument. He had been afraid that Tarzan would stand out with his bare barrel chest and ragged cargo shorts, but he almost fitted in with the admittedly less muscular townsfolk. It was Jane who drew the most attention as a blonde in a place where dark hair was the norm.