Halfway to the Truth (18 page)

Salomon returned to the building where Reese was located and unlocked the metal door.  As the light filled the space, she turned her head sideways and tried to bring an arm up to shield her eyes from the bright light. The chains barely gave her enough length to bring her hand to her mouth.

Proceeding inside, he went over to Reese and knelt down setting a small bottle of water within her reach.

“I heard an explosion,” she said, “what happened?”

“Your hero is dead,” he said with a sinister smirk. “No one is going to help you now. Everyone around here is afraid of me.”

“Guillame’s dead? Are you going to kill me too?”

Salomon leaned forward and unbuttoned the top button on Reese’s damp shirt revealing her sweated cleavage. “No Miss Summers, I have other plans for you. I’ll be gone a few days while I make the necessary arrangements.”

Seeing the pendant around her neck, he took into his hands and fondled it. “This is an interesting trinket. Did you know our people believe the symbol of an elephant is supposed to be good luck?”

She didn’t respond.

“Didn’t bring
you
any luck now, did it?” He let go and stood up. “You might want to think about rationing that water, he said. “I’d hate to come back and find you dead from dehydration.”

He left as quickly as he came, securing the door behind him.

As she listened to the distancing of his vehicle one more time, she felt so alone and wondered at the fate Salomon had in store for her.

In the darkness, she felt for the bottle of water and clenched it in her hand. Although she had not eaten since breakfast, her thirst was more of an immediate issue. Nonetheless, she decided against taking a drink for fear Salomon would be gone for a considerable amount of time and, she would need it later. Instead, she chose to try and get some sleep which came easy in the darkness and heavy, warm, stagnant air.

Hours later, she aroused from her sleep. It must have been dark outside, because she could not see the holes in the roof that appeared when the sun was shining, and the air inside felt cooler. Remembering the water bottle, she carefully pulled it near and then tried to adjust her body’s position. Sitting in one position, for such a long period of time, tended to cause some cramping and affected her blood flow. She stretched her back and moved her legs as much as she could to regain circulation.

Uncapping the water bottle, she took a sip. Even though the liquid was warm, it cooled the burning and dryness in her throat. She took a second sip and recapped the bottle, knowing she had to conserve her precious resource.

Then she started to make small circles with her arms and stretch herself again within the limits of her chains. For some bizarre reason, the song
Satisfaction
came to mind and she started to sing the lyrics as she moved, “I can’t get no – satisfaction; I can’t get no – satisfaction; ‘Cause I try’, and I try; Yes I try, I try; I can’t get no satisfaction.”

After spending about an hour running through a repertoire of songs she could remember, she stopped and thought how pathetic she must sound. And, singing the words to those songs only made her thirstier, so she took another sip of water. But this time, it was more of a mouthful, with a second mouthful following.

As she tipped back her head, she began to notice the holes in the ceiling started reappearing, signaling another day had arrived. However, that only meant the air inside was going to heat up again and cause her to sweat.

For a brief second, she thought she heard a noise outside and accidently dropped the water. It spilled into the dirt. She listened intently, but it must have been her imagination, because only silence rewarded her attention.

Then suddenly she heard it again.

“Is someone out there?” she shouted. “Please, can you help me?”

There was no answer, but sounds continued outside behind the wall she was leaning against. Maybe some big animal had come from the jungle and was foraging and that’s why no one answered. Then she heard a thud against the back wall.

“I know there’s someone out there, why don’t you answer me?” she pleaded.

The activity continued for a minute, then she heard the sound creep up toward the roofline. A corner of the metal roof rattled, and she thought she saw movement. She instantly became afraid of what might be working its way into the building. There was no way she could defend herself from snakes or anything else that might come crawling down on her. Panic began to set in.

“Missy lady?” came a small voice from above.

Squinting her eyes to look in the voice’s direction, she saw a forearm and part of the head of a boy peeking through a gap in the corrugated tin.

“Missy lady, vous êtes bien?” Are you alright?

“Can you help me? I’m chained to the wall.”

The boy rattled off some French that Reese could not understand, then he continued straining at the metal sheeting attached to the roof. He pushed with all his might and was able to raise the section sufficiently to poke the upper part of his torso inside.

Producing a strong stick, he used it as a lever to snap the nails that secured one end of the panel. The opening widened, and he was now able to fully put his body through.

As his head bobbed and weaved straining to push something through the gap he had created, she watched the boy maneuver the end of a long pole into the building, until it finally settled into the corner leaning against the wall.

Next, he shimmied himself into the opening and used the pole to climb down onto the floor. He went over to Reese and squatted next to her displaying the biggest smile she had ever seen on a face.

She remembered him as the boy who gave her the elephant charm and who was with Guillame before the shooting and subsequent explosion. “Thank God you are alright,” she exclaimed. “I thought the worse happened to you.”

He still wore the sleeveless soccer shirt and brown shorts from their first meeting and his feet were still bare. She saw how he used them, along with his hands, to climb down the four-inch wide pole. The only new addition she noticed, was that he had a small leather pouch suspended from a rope that was draped across his shoulders.

“Bonjour Missy lady,” he said, and then grabbed the chain binding her nearest wrist. Putting his feet against the wall, he started to pull with all his might. Reese helped as much as she could, but it proved to be a useless endeavor for the two of them. The chains were firmly anchored into the cement blocks.

“Thank you for trying though,” she said. “Can you bring somebody here?”

He didn’t comprehend what she was saying and looked at her bewildered.

She tried pointing to him, the door, and then to herself indicating to bring someone back, but he didn’t understand her signs either.

Instead, he opened his leather pouch and pulled out a small container of water and something wrapped in leaves. Placing the water near her, he unwrapped the leaves and took out the contents offering it to her.

“Poulet!” Chicken. “Yum-yum Missy lady, vous mangez.” You eat, he said, pressing it to her mouth.

She took a bite. Chewing cautiously, she quickly swallowed and indicated for more.

He fed her until it was all gone. Then he gave her a drink of water saying, “Je reste ici avec vous, Missy lady.” I stay here with you. “Je vais protéger.” I’ll protect you.

She had no idea what he was saying, but she was damn glad he was there, and began to once again have hope of being freed.

For a brief moment, the thought of asking him what he knew of Guillame crossed her mind. But then, she realized that their ability to communicate intelligently was non-existent and she did not want to take the chance of upsetting him, or worse, having him leave her by mentioning Guillame’s name.

Throughout the remainder of the day, the boy left and then returned; climbing up and down the pole. She surmised, that due to the height of the wall, that he used a similar pole on the outside as well.

She did not know where he went on his excursions, but each time he returned, he had something for her to eat — bananas, nuts, and a few other things she probably wouldn’t want to know.

His presence helped to make the day go fast and, before she knew it, the sunlight in the opening faded and total darkness engulfed her prison once again.

He stayed with her in the dark and she felt him lay his head on her thigh. In response she stretched to rest a hand on his little shoulder and patted him until they both fell asleep.

Robert Daniels had just arrived at the
International Airport in Abidjan. He was there because Shelley had not been able to contact Reese, and was worried about her. The Chief was worried too, and now she hadn’t been heard from in three days.

Doug Williams, Shelley, and Robert had gathered at the
Savannah Daily
to figure out their next move. Doug was convinced that one of them needed to go to the Ivory Coast, and the only one that made sense was the one who was a police officer with a military background.

Shelley wanted to go with him but, with one woman missing already, Robert didn’t want her put in any danger. He persuaded her that staying behind in Savannah only made sense, in case Reese surfaced and tried to get in touch with her.

Exiting the secure area of arriving flights, Robert saw a man, that fit the description Doug provided to him, who was holding a sign with the name ‘Daniels’ scribbled on the card. He went over to him.

“Are you Scratch?”

“Yes, and you’re Chief Daniels I hope?”

“Please call me Rob,” he said, shaking the man’s hand, “I don’t think my title means anything here and it’s probably safer.”

“Let’s go pick up your luggage, and then we’ll get out of here.”

Holding up a stuffed, black handbag, “All I brought is right here. I didn’t think I was packing for a social visit, so I didn’t need much.”

“Great, then we can leave right away. We’re going to a place that Greenpeace has down by the port area. There’s a few things we need to pick up before we go to Bandamogo.”

In the parking area they approached a white van, similar to the van that Guillame drove. And just like Guillame’s, it looked like it had seen better days.

Noticing the look on Daniels’ face, Scratch gave him reassurance. “It looks like hell, but the engine and drive train are pretty sturdy for the kind of roads we travel.

On their way to the port, the two men tried to get to know each other better.

“So, you were in the Marines Doug told me.”

“Yeah, military police. It’s all I know, so it was only natural for me to stay with law enforcement when I retired. How about you, were you go in the military?”

“Four years in the Navy. I was a welder, but it wasn’t for me. So I got out and used my GI Bill. Wasted it is more like it. I managed to get an arts degree thinking I was going to be this great artist, but the best I could do was draw some cartoons. But I can doodle the hell out of a piece of paper.”

“Doug told me that’s how you got the nickname ‘Scratch’.”

“I guess so. Every free moment I have I’m doodling something.”

“Well that tells me the art thing is still gnawing at you, so don’t give up on it. And how do you know Reese Summers?”

“I only met Miss Summers once, back when she started to get involved with all this E-waste business. She gave me her pen and pad of paper after our meeting that time. I still have them; she made quite an impression on me with that gesture. She related to you?”

“Nope, but I care about what happens to her. She’s like that puppy dog that chews your shoes and shits all over the place, but you still think it’s cute.”

“I could tell right away that she’s got confidence, but I also got the feeling she didn’t always think things through. You know, like, jump into the middle of a fight and then not know what to do.”

“You pegged her right Scratch,” Robert replied, “she’s a bull in a china shop.”

Pulling up to an office at the end of a warehouse, Scratch indicated they arrived at their first destination.

Inside the small office, there was a desk strewn with papers and magazines and maps pinned to the walls next to a large Greenpeace symbol. A few metal chairs, a backpack, and some cots leaned against the walls. A door led to a washroom.

“You can freshen up in there if you need to.” Scratch said, pointing. “It’s a couple hours to get to Bandamogo. I’ll get my things together.”

Daniels agreed it would be a good idea to take advantage of the rest stop and went inside to use the washroom.

When he exited, Scratch handed him a 9mm pistol and three clips of ammunition.

“I thought you guys did
peaceful civil disobedience,” he said, smacking a clip into the handle of the Sig-Sauer P226 and measuring the weight of the weapon.

“We do, but we aren’t stupid either,” he said grinning, while picking up a semi-automatic M-16 rifle. “You seem to know your way around that handgun.”

“It’s what I carry back home. Even though Beretta beat out Sig-Sauer in the military’s handgun competition, I always liked it better. Heavier and carries a 15-round clip. How about you, can you shoot that thing?”

“Like I said, I was in the Navy, we shoot 15-inch guns. But if I don’t hit anything, at least it will get their attention.”

“So tell me, why are we going to need all this firepower?”

Scratch’s toned turned more serious. “I haven’t heard a word from Guillame since the morning he was to pick up Miss Summers at her hotel. I’m afraid something has happened to him as well. He may have run into Salomon.”

“And who is Salomon,” Robert asked putting the pistol in his belt and extra clips in his shirt pocket.

“He runs the show in Bandamogo and its surrounding area. He’s made himself the self-appointed king of E-waste in this country. He was a rebel leader during the civil war here and came down from up north after things got settled. The local politicians and authorities are afraid of him and the small band of men he brought with him. He’ll stop at nothing to keep his scrap enterprise operating – it’s a moneymaker for him. The man cares little about the ecology or the lives of the people that handle the scrap material.”

“Sounds like a pretty dangerous group,” Robert acknowledged. “But my experience with his kind is, that if you cut off the head of the serpent, the body dies pretty quickly afterward.”

Scratch grabbed his backpack from the floor. “Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

They headed out.

On the way to Bandamogo, they got delayed behind a twenty-five truck convoy of E-waste headed in the same direction. The road was too narrow to try and pass safely, but they caught a break when part of the convoy stopped at a roadside rest area.

“Is all that junk from Savannah?” asked Robert.

“No. It comes in from Europe too. Looks like a lot doesn’t it?”

“Sure does.”

“It’s a drop in the proverbial bucket. Convoys like that happen a couple of times a week. There’s two other sites in this country alone, and many others in countries bordering the African coastline. Mega tons of that crap comes to this continent from industrialized nations. It might not be so bad if the manufacturers and recyclers set up decent reprocessing plants and trained the workers — but that costs money. I’m sure you know the drill.”

“Here we are,” said Scratch. “This is the home of Guillame’s aunt and uncle. Let’s see if they know anything.”

He pulled up in front of their house. A small group of children came over to their van but they did not have the familiar excitement like when they greeted Guillame.

An older girl pointed inside the house. “Guillame est mauvais!” Guillame is bad.

“This doesn’t sound good Robert. Something has happened to Guillame.”

The two men went inside.

At the back of the residence was a small room. Crying could be heard coming from it.

Scratch was the first to see his friend laying there bruised, battered, and burned. His right forearm had a crude bandage wrapped around it, and Scratch could see he was in a lot of pain.

“What happened, man?” he asked moving to his bedside.

“Salomon,” Guillame returned grimacing greatly. “He left me for dead. A group of children brought me here in the dark.”

“Rob, I have some pain relievers in my backpack. Can you get them?”

“Sure! Anything you need!”

“Take it easy buddy,” Scratch encouraged. “We’ll take care of you.”

Daniels returned quickly with the backpack and handed it to Scratch.

He took out some Motrin and signaled to Guillame’s aunt for water.

“No-o-o! Reese!” Guillame managed to get out. “Reese needs your help!”

“Where is she?” he asked raising his head to give him the medicine and water.

Guillame took the pills, swallowing with difficulty. “She’s not far from here,” he said between his pain convulsions. “In a locked cement building. Ask the children?”

“You rest, we’ll find her,” he said, laying his head down.

When Scratch moved away, his aunt and uncle moved to take his place and continue to comfort their nephew.

“He’s in bad shape Rob. I hate to leave him like this, but we need to find Miss Summers right away”

“I’ve seen worse. Right now he needs rest and lots of liquids. Those pills you gave him will help a little bit. How we going to find this place? Do you speak French?”

“Just enough to get by, but it will have to do.”

He passed the Motrin bottle to the aunt and told her to give Guillame two more pills in a few hours. He assured her Guillame would be okay, and added they would be back soon with help.

When they returned to the van, Scratch tried to get information from the group of children that met them. He thought he understood what they were saying and where to find the white woman.

“What did they say?” asked Robert. “I thought I heard the name Salomon.”

“You did! The girl said he just went by here about fifteen minutes ago. There were two cars full of men.”

“Let’s go!”

“Hold on. We don’t know what we’re getting into and we’re probably going to be outnumbered.”

“I’m not waiting Scratch. Let’s make a plan when we get there. I have a feeling if we don’t get to her now, we’ll never see her again. I’m hoping we have the element of surprise on our side.”

Reluctantly, Scratch got back into the van and headed down the road.

“The girl said to go a little ways and then look for a dirt road to our left.”

“That’s all we got around here is dirt roads. I hope her estimating skills aren’t too far off the mark.”

Shortly, a left-turn road appeared. Scratch, made the turn and continued on.

“Now where?” asked Daniels.

“Just a little further. The girl said we would come to a clearing. I’ll slow down while you keep watch through the bushes for those cars.”