Dangerous Deception - A Short Story (5 page)

“
You okay?” Jack asked, taking the seat next to her in the van.

“
I’m finding it difficult to remain neutral,” she admitted.

“
That’s understandable.”

Maybe so, b
ut as a journalist, she needed to stay unbiased in reporting the story, as hard as that may be. She reflected back on their earlier conversation, still curious for an answer. “Why did you really come here, Jack?”

“My parents are members of Tom & Evelyn’s church back home in
Chicago. I first them when I was home for the holidays a few years back, and later they invited me to join them on a short-term mission trip to Dewana to see the orphanage they were funding. That trip literally changed my life.”

“How so?”

“My parents are very humble people, material things never really meant that much to them, but as a kid growing up in a predominately rich area, I always wanted what the other kids had. So when I went to college I basically had one goal, to get as much as I could in as little time as possible.”

“I assume you accomplished your goal?”

“My senior year a couple of buddies and I launched a software company that produces games for various systems. It turned out to be a goldmine. But no matter how much money I made or how many exotic places I visited, I was never really happy. Something seemed to be missing. It was when I came to Dewana it dawned on me that I didn’t need fame and money to be happy.”

Gwen smiled.
She knew exactly what he meant. She had gone through the same transformation a year ago. The people she had met in Kirabo had nothing, yet they were happier and more content than she knew she would ever be. “As American’s we are very spoilt,” she finally said.

“Yes we are.
That’s when I knew I had to make some changes. That it was time I started giving back.”

“Building a
nother orphanage is a very good start. It’s heart wrenching to see so many children without parents.”

“Y
eah it is.”

* * * * *

It was ten after four when Jack and Gwen arrived at the address Michael had given her.

“Are you sure this is the right address?”
The taxi driver asked.

Gwen looked
up at the burned out building, blackened by soot, and rechecked the address. To verify it, she showed it to Jack and he nodded.

The taxi driver shrugged his shoulder.
“They used to publish a newspaper here but it hasn’t been operational for months.”

“This is it.
Could you wait for us? I’ll give you double fare.” she promised, thankful that he spoke good English because neither she nor Jack knew Mende and very little Krio.

“I’ll wait if you pay me half now.”

Gwen reached for her billfold to pay him, but Jack beat her to it. “I’ve got it.”

She climbed out of the cab and scanned the dozen windows facing the street, searching for
any sign of movement. Seeing none, she approached the metal door that hung askew.

“Gwen Jacobs?”

Startled, she jumped back and stepped on Jack’s foot in the process. “Sorry.” She moved to one side.

A man stepped from behind the door.
He wore clothing similar to the women they had seen earlier in the day. Gwen guessed him to be in his early thirties and his skin was much darker than most of the locals she had met today.

“Mr. Rajah?”

With a nod, he turned his back to them and started up a staircase littered with debris. She started to follow, but Jack took hold of her hand. “Is it safe?”

The man
glanced over his shoulder. “It’s safer than it is out there.”

“It’ll be alright,” Gwen said and ascended the stairs
, still holding Jack’s hand.

Mr. Rajah
led them to a room on the second floor that contained a wooden table and four metal chairs. “Sit,” he said and proceeded to take the closest chair. Only then did Jack turn loose of her hand.

“Are you Michael Garrison?”

“God, no,” Gwen quickly answered. “This is Jack. He’s a friend of mine.”

Jack pulled out a chair for her, waited for her to sit down
, and then took the one next to her.

Jack’s actions drew a smirk from Mr
. Rajah.

Gwen suspected he was
Muslim, judging from his reaction and appearance. “Michael said you could get me an interview with a general in the RFAGC?”

“I can, but you must
be very careful. A friend of mine will take you there alone so the police and military won’t find out.”

"
I don’t think I like this, Gwen,” Jack said.

“She will be safe.
I will see no harm comes to her. But if it is learned that you have met with the rebels you can be arrested.”

“Do you speak from experience?”
She asked, glancing at their surroundings.

His expression hardened
. “I was arrested by the local police because of an article I had written describing a raid they made on a local business suspected of being an illegal weapons depot. I was released the following day, but when I came back to my office, I found it had been burned. Later I was told my license was revoked for collaborating with the rebels.”

“I’m sorry.
I appreciate your willingness to work with us.”

“We must appeal to the international community to place a higher priority on meeting the emergency needs of
the people of Dewana who suffer from life-threatening shortages of food, water, and medical care.”

“That’s what I’m hoping to do with this assignment.
But I need to get both views. In order to further the peace process, we need to establish if the rebels have a legitimate claim of governmental corruption.”

“Look around you, Miss
. For a country that has some of the world’s richest resources, why do you think they have never gone without poverty?”

“Do you think that includes the present government?”

“Honestly, no. I think the rebels just want to see that the past doesn’t repeat itself. They want to be established as a political party with cabinet and ministerial posts.”

“What can you tell me about
Kanneh’s political background?”

“In ’
72 his father sent him to the United States where he obtained a degree in economics from a college on the east coast. He later went to work for then-Liberian President Daniel Moore.”

“
Who was assassinated during a military coup in the ‘80s’,” she said.

“That’s right.
Led by army sergeant Teh Siakoh. Despite his connection to Moore, Kanneh’s political skills and economics background earned him a key position within the Siakoh government. Three years later he was accused of stealing and was forced to flee the country. He ended up in Dewana and for the next four years, it’s believed he received shelter and military training from Akua Chidike. He returned to Liberia in ‘89 teaming up with some of his former followers. A year later his forces entered Monrovia. A civil war between Kanneh and Siakoh forces followed, and in 1995, a peace agreement was signed, eventually leading to the election of Kanneh as President in 1997 by popular vote.”

“How did he manage that?” Jack asked.

“He’d promised to reconstruct the country, but to date, the only real development that is taking place is in his wallet,” Gwen commented.

“Yes.
His affiliation with the RFAGC has made him a very rich man.”

“When can I meet with this general?”

“I will try and get you a meeting with him tomorrow afternoon. Be in the market place at 3:00p.m. If it is safe and you weren't followed, you will be told to go to a mutual place. A friend of mine will meet you there and take you to the general.”

“How will I know
this person was sent by you?”

He hesitated a moment before he suggested, “He will ask you if you have seen Sako, this is my son’s name.”

“Sako, that’s not a Muslim name. Is it?”

“I’m not Muslim.
I dress this way because most of the people in this area are Muslim. It gains me trust and respect. You might remember that when you meet with the general.”

“He’s Muslim?”

“A liberal Muslim, but he expects women to dress and act a certain way.”

“I get the picture.
Thanks for the tip,” she said, already drawing the conclusion she wasn’t going to like the man.

* * * * *

Jack chose a table near the back of the restaurant. It was one he had visited the last time he was in Lerato and knew the layout in case of an emergency evacuation. He also knew the food was safe since it was a favorite with UN workers.

“The lamb and rice is good,” he suggested, watching
Gwen scan the menu.

“Sounds good.”
She looked up at the waiter. “I’ll have couscous instead of rice, though.”

“What is that?”
Jack asked.

“
It’s steamed pasta made from millet or hard wheat. It’s good, you’ll like it.”

“
I think I’ll stick to my rice.” He waited until the waiter had left before asking, “So what exactly is a liberal Muslim?”

“Basically it means the men can break all the
rules, but their wives can’t.”

“Are you going to be okay with this guy?”

She glanced up with a smile. “I’ve got a job to do. I think I can behave long enough to get it done.”

Jack studied Gwen a
s she looked around the busy restaurant. Her light brown hair, that barely reached her shoulders, was pulled back at the sides by gold-colored barrettes. At twenty-eight, she was just two years younger than him, yet according to his source, had done more and seen more than most women three times her age.

“Why are you here
, Gwen?”

She met his gaze.
Her eyes, the same likeness of her hair, were the most expressive eyes he’d ever seen, and her small nose turned up slightly above a pair of full lips. “I already told you my reasons for wanting to be here.”

“No, I mean why the front lines of war in three different countries?”

“I’m a journalist. I go where the news is.”

“Don’t you ever get scared?”

“Sure, but it’s my job. It’s what I do.”

The waiter arrived with their food
and Jack said grace.

Gwen scooped up a fork
full of her couscous and leaned across the table toward him. “C’mon, try it.”

“No thanks.”

“Chicken.” She drew back the fork and stuck it in her mouth. “Mumm, you don’t know what you’re missing.”

He laughed.
Getting to know her was going to be a lot more fun than he had first anticipated.

Chapter Six

After breakfast the
following morning, Gwen helped the children set the dining room tables. One boy, around ten, stuck to her like glue. Mimicking everything she did. For her own amusement and that of the other children, she began to skip along the tables swaying back and forth while moving her arms slowly.

The other children giggled as he suddenly stopped in his tracks, looking at her as if she was from another planet.

“She’s a butterfly,” Jack’s voice echoed from the doorway of the kitchen.

Warmth generated through Gwen’s cheeks as he walked towards her, smiling.

Shielding her embarrassment, she took the boy’s hands and lifted his arms. “You give it a try.”

The boy
's face lit up with a brilliant smile as he began to flap his arms.

“A little more softly,” she corrected.

He slowed the movement of his arms as he skipped around her.

“Excellent.”
She clapped her hands together. “You make an awesome butterfly.”

Before long
, all the children had turned into elegant butterflies, fluttering around the room. Gwen sat in one of the chairs and cheered them on.

Jack joined her.
“You would never know by looking at him now, but less than a year ago Tau was a soldier in the RFAGC.”

Oh
, God.
Gwen had heard many stories about child soldiers, but had never met one. Often times the rebels would slaughter their families in front of them, then kidnap them. After weeks or months of forced training, most of the time under the influence of drugs, they were taken on killing raids. “How’d he wind up here?”

“A local farmer found him shot and bleeding to death in the bush.
Luckily, Candice was helping out at the hospital when he was brought in. She called Robbie and Kay.”

“He seems so normal
.”

“When
Tau first came to live here, he wouldn’t even talk. Unfortunately, he remembered a lot of the things he was forced to do and it haunted him. Kay has worked hard to get him to share his experiences and has taught him that he isn’t a bad person.”