Halfway to the Truth (17 page)

Guillame had waited ten minutes at the front of the hotel, but there had been no sign of Reese. Checking his watch, he was sure they had agreed on a nine o’clock time to leave for Bandamogo. The ringing of his cell phone broke his concentration as he watched for her to show.

“Guillame, this is Scratch, where are you?”

“I’m in my van at Miss Summers’ hotel. We have an appointment to go back to the village, but she’s late.”

“Listen, I’m sorry I haven’t been available to be with you, but we have our hands full with ships in the Gulf. Matter of fact, we’re going out again right now to intercept another cargo ship. When you see Miss Summers, let her know that people in the states have been trying to get in touch with her and she hasn’t returned their calls. They’re worried that she could be headed for trouble and she needs to call them back.”

“Got it. You be careful out there yourself, some of those ship captains have been known to shoot at Greenpeace watercraft.”

“Thanks buddy, I’ll call you when I can.”

Guillame got out of the van and went into the hotel going straight to Reese’s room. He knocked, but there was no answer. He then made his way to the front desk and gave a description of her to the clerk, asking if he had seen her. The clerk thought he saw her go in to eat breakfast earlier, but he didn’t see her after that.

Guillame made one more attempt at her room, and then went back to his van. With Scratch’s call still fresh in his mind, he was beginning to think that whatever concerns those people in the states had for her safety, was now a reality. If she was in danger, he thought, it could only be because one of Salomon’s men saw them at the waste site. And if that was the case, he knew Salomon, being a ruthless man, would stop at nothing to protect his territory from any intruder.

He turned over the ignition and shot away from the hotel. The only direction his instincts were telling him to go was toward Bandamogo.

It was early afternoon when Guillame arrived. He had no idea where to begin to look for Reese and wasn’t even sure that she was there. Although it would be difficult not to notice a white woman in the village, the people were afraid of Salomon and likely would not betray him. His only choice was to drive through the village and look for any signs that might indicate his gut feeling was right.

The few men and women he saw outside in the heat of the day paid his van little attention, as he slowly proceeded down the dirt roads. His eyes darted back and forth, hoping that someone or something would provide a clue. Then, rounding a corner, he saw the familiar Mercedes of Salomon coming from the opposite direction.

Deciding on his next course of action, he threw caution to the wind and turned his van sideways to block the street. He got out of his vehicle when the other car stopped.

Nearby, villagers scurried to clear themselves from the scene, while taking up positions not far to see what was going to happen. Off to one side, several younger men were talking and animatedly pointing toward the vehicles.

As Guillame approached the Mercedes, a rear window was lowered. Salomon’s face appeared.

“Having car troubles Guillame? We almost hit you.”

“What have you done with her?”

“Done with who?” he asked grinning.

“Miss Summers. I know you have done something to her.”

“I’m sorry Guillame but I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now could you please move your van?”

“You know exactly who I am talking about. The women reporter who was here with me a few days ago. She’s missing and I know you have something to do with it.”

“You’ve been drinking too much koutoukou Guillame. I think that palm wine has gone to your head and made you crazy.”

“Tell me where she is and we’ll leave.”

“You’re a smart man; you’ll figure it out. Now get out of my way and unblock the road.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me …”

Salomon caught the attention of the group of young men and signaled to them to move the van. They started to head in that direction when a group of children came running into the streets yelling Guillame’s name. Not wanting to put them in jeopardy, he went back to his vehicle and reluctantly moved it so Salomon could pass. The tinted window closed, and Guillame only saw his own reflection in it as the Mercedes rolled past.

“Guillame, Guillame!” shouted the children closing in around him.

He got out of his vehicle once again, and pulled a bag from behind his seat. He began to give pieces of candy to the small crowd that surrounded him. As each child received their treat, they returned to where they had come from. The last boy waited patiently for his turn. The boy looked familiar and then it came to him, he was the boy that gave Reese the elephant necklace.

Offering him a piece of candy, the boy refused and instead spoke in French to Guillame.

“Missy lady, elle est en difficulté.” She’s in trouble.

“Qui est en difficulté. Votre mère?” Who is in trouble? Your mother?

“No, Missy lady,” he replied pointing to the white van.

“Vous avez vu son?” You’ve seen her?

“Oui!”

“Où?” Where?

The boy pointed beyond the village.

“Entrer. Prendre moi là-bas.” Get in. Take me there.

The boy jumped into the passenger seat and pointed down the road.

Salomon was on the outskirts of Bandamogo headed back to Abidjan when he tapped the shoulder of his driver and spoke to the men sitting in the front of the vehicle.

“I don’t trust Guillame; he’s getting too close. Turn around and go find him.”

The Mercedes went a little farther, until the driver found a place to turn the vehicle around.

The concrete building, where Reese was held captive, had no windows to look out of or let anyone see inside. The only access into the building was through the metal door, and it was closed tight. A few small holes in the corrugated, tin roof overhead let in narrow beams of light that highlighted only parts of her body. The beams seemingly taunting her, by suggesting there was still a world outside.

It had only been a few hours since her imprisonment, but her breathing was already becoming labored from the uncirculated warm, humid air. And, as sweat poured from her glands it only intensified her desire for a drink of water. 

Leaning her back against the wall, she pulled on the restraints to test their strength. There was immediate confirmation that escape was not possible on her own, and she needed to conserve her energy. Although her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she still could not see into the recesses of the ten by twelve foot prison.

While pondering her predicament, she heard the unmistakable sound of a vehicle approaching and got scared again. The only one who knew she was there was Salomon.

The vehicle stopped outside and the engine went silent.

She listened intently. After a minute of silence, she heard footsteps approach the door and then heard the lock jiggle.

“Miss Summers are you in there?” came a welcomed voice.

“
Guillame!
Yes, I’m here! I’m chained to the wall!”

“I’ll get you out ma’am, but this door is strong. Let me look around here for another way,” he said, as he started to walk around the building.

Except for some scrub bushes and tall grasses in the back of the building, he didn’t see any other way to get inside. The boy had left the vehicle and was standing next to him pointing up to the roof.

“Je comprends,” I understand, he said, patting the boy on the head.

He returned to the front door. “Miss Summers, I’m going to move my van to the back, so don’t worry, I’m not leaving. I think I can in through the roof, but it’s about nine feet high and I’ll need my van.”

“Alright, Guillame. Is there someone else out there with you?”

“Yes ma’am. The boy who gave you the necklace brought me here. He saw Salomon bring you to this place.”

“Thank God!” was all she could say.

He moved the van to the rear of the structure, and opened the back to get to a tire iron. He then told the boy to hide near some brush, and watch for anyone that may be coming. He also told him that if anything happened to him, the boy was to find Monsieur Scratch.

Climbing onto the roof of the van, he gained the height he needed and began to pry on a corrugated tin panel. After straining a few minutes, he had sufficiently loosened part of the panel so that he could peer inside.

He saw Reese leaning against the wall with her wrists shackled to chains. Her chain restraints, securely pinned within the concrete wall.

She turned her head to shield her eyes from the light that streamed in.

“Guillame!” he heard the boy say, as he pointed to a cloud of dust over some distant foliage.

“Miss Summers, I think Salomon is coming. I don’t want him to see what I am doing. I’ll be back,” he assured, and then lowered the panel.

Reese’s hope for freedom was dashed.

He jumped to the ground and got into the van. Quickly starting its engine, he drove to the front of the building as the Mercedes came into view.

Through the windshield, Guillame gave a signal to the boy to stay put and then waited.

Salomon’s Mercedes pulled in front of the van and two men got out. One was carrying an AK-47 assault rifle, and the other, a handgun.

Guillame put the van in reverse and hit the gas. His sudden backward momentum sent unsecured items in the van flying forward. Then, he abruptly stopped and put it in forward gear driving around to the back of the building for cover.

When he exited the other side, the AK-47 chattered raking the vehicle from front to back. Guillame caught a round in his right forearm, and a bullet went through one of the five-gallon gas cans stored in the rear compartment.

He continued racing down the road heading for the E-waste dump.

The two men jumped back into their automobile, and gave chase.

Reese had heard the gunfire, and then the engines of both vehicles trail off in the distance. Complete silence followed.

She yelled to see if anyone was still outside, but no responses came. Not knowing what happened she imaged the worse — the body of a dead boy and Guillame soon meeting the same fate.

With the only people that knew where she was, now gone, she had little hope for freedom. When Salomon returned, she suspected he would finish the job.

The van reached the open area of the dump just ahead of the Mercedes. Shots began to ring out from the windows of the sedan.

Guillame maneuvered, in a zig-zag pattern, trying to avoid direct line-of-sight in order to avoid being hit again. The gunshot wound to his right arm made it almost useless, making it difficult for him to steer the vehicle and stay ahead of Salomon. Guillame’s rear tire ran over an open-pit fire, and his van almost hit several children who were in the process of stripping materials from electronic components.

Spinning left, he let the resulting cloud of black smoke help camouflage his next move as he headed behind a pile of debris to gain some protection from their gunshots. It was only momentary, as they soon were back behind him with guns blazing.

The van next headed straight for a pole and thatch roof shed, tearing through it and blowing debris back onto the Mercedes. He saw one of Salomon’s metal buyers jump out of the way just before impact.

Feeling the pain in his arm worsening, he raced around piles of smoking equipment and ash hoping to throw them off balance. But this time, a rear tire was punctured and immediately went flat.

His maneuverability almost gone, Guillame could only do one thing and that was to crash his vehicle, knowing the gas fumes that had filled the rear compartment would ignite. If he was going to go down, he planned on taking Salomon with him.

At the edge of the dump he saw his chance, and made a mad one hundred and eighty degree spin to face the approaching Mercedes. Between them was a smoldering fire pit with no one near it. If he timed it right, they would collide.

He floored the foot throttle and darted toward them. What would have been the moment of a head-on impact, instead became a glancing blow. The flat tire and action of the Mercedes driver caused both vehicles to sideswipe each other over the fire pit. However, the fumes that had built up in the back of the van exploded, knocking off the back doors and rocketing the van into the foliage at the edge of the waste site.

The pursuing Mercedes came to a halt, and Salomon got out of the vehicle to watch the spectacle. He quickly ducked when a secondary explosion ensued. From a crouched position, he watched as the van become totally engulfed in flames.

“No one could survive that,” he said under his breath.

After a few minutes, he got back into his sedan and ordered his men back to the building where their captive was located.

Driving away from the scrapyard, Salomon assured himself that the people would let the van burn, and later strip out what salvageable materials they could get from it. He also convinced himself that not even the ashes of Guillame would be found by the time the spot cooled.