The Carolina Coup: Another Rwandan Genocide? (The Jeannine Ryan Series Book 4) (30 page)

Superintendant Ralph Morris sat at his desk in the office of the North Charleston terminal.  At Maximilien Gutera’s instructions he had worked late to await the arrival of the ship,
l’Étoile d’Afrique
.  His neck was moist with sweat, and he tugged at his collar.

The late hour was not the cause of his discomfort.  It was his visitor, Maximilien Gutera, himself.  Morris shifted uneasily in his seat while looking down at the African’s shoes.  They were of fine Italian leather. The man had rich tastes.

Up to now Morris had avoided direct meetings with Mr. Gutera.  His “cash donations” had been transmitted to the superintendant by a third party, one with only hidden links to donor or recipient.

But tonight an enraged Maximilien stood over him.

“You idiot, how could you authorize Denise Guerry to remove my container from the premises without consulting me?”

“Mr. Gutera, Ms. Guerry is the CEO of GES.  It is my understanding that GES finances your programs.  How could I question her authority?  I assumed you knew.”

Maximilien slammed his fist on the desk.

“You assumed wrong!  Denise Guerry has been removed from GES.  She no longer has anything to do with me or my programs.  Is that clear!  You should have called me.  I pay you well.  Do not aid my enemies.”

“Mr. Gutera, I’m sorry.  I had no idea.  I assure you, I always follow your instructions.”

“My container was to be loaded tomorrow morning.  My ship cannot sail until it is recovered.  You have failed miserably.  I do not tolerate failure.”

Morris’s hands froze on the arms of his chair. 
The man’s mad
.

Frowning, Maximilien Gutera turned to leave.

Superintendant Morris called out.

“Mr. Gutera, wait.  Ms. Guerry told me the contents were unimportant.  I was a fool.  But we can find the truck.  It is fitted with a GPS tracker.  We can tell you where it is.

Maximilien stopped. 
You idiot, now you tell me.

Morris typed furiously on his computer.

A map with a blip appeared on the screen.  The truck was nearing Summerville, South Carolina.

Maximilien called Claude who was sitting in the Audi.

“We must go to Summerville.  Mobilize the men to meet us there.  Arm them with AK-47’s and pangas.”

Maximilien turned to Mr. Morris.

“You are a lucky man.  You are alive thanks to your GPS device.”

He strode through the doors.

Ralph Morris wiped his forehead.

Bill Hamm drove the flat-bed truck with Gutera’s container on Interstate 26 in South Carolina.  He stayed under the speed limit.

Denise Guerry followed in the car.  She saw the right-turn signal of Bill’s truck blink.  Seconds later the truck pulled onto a wide shoulder and stopped.

Denise pulled over and walked up to the truck.  She watched Bill reach under the dashboard.

“What are you doing, Bill?”

He did not answer, but continued to grope behind the panel.  Finally he pulled an object from under the dash and muttered.

“Evidently the Port Authority keeps track of where their trucks are.  I should have thought of this sooner.  This damn thing means trouble?”

“What is it?”

“It’s a GPS tracker.  Your friend Maximilien ... ”

“He never was my friend, and he certainly isn’t now!’”

Bill did not respond.  He stood, silent.

Maximilien knows where the truck is, and he wants his rockets!

Denise read his thoughts.

My God!  Maximilien knows where we are!

Denise stood silent while Bill Hamm studied the container on the truck.  The painted letters,
Kenya-Carolina Apex Distributors
, were too large and bright to alter or conceal.  There was no way to conceal the provenance of the load, and no way to remove it from the flat bed.

Bill turned as a third car stopped on the shoulder behind them.  His hand slipped towards his Beretta.  Denise stopped him.

“No, Bill!  It’s Henri Duval, I told him where we were.”

A man the size of Bill approached and held out his hand.

“Henri Duval.  You must be William Hamm.”

Bill took the outstretched hand and squeezed.  Henri responded.  Each returned the other’s stare.

After some seconds, Denise spoke.

“Stop!   Give up.  It’s a draw.  Remember, Maximilien knows where we are.”

Henri relaxed his grip.  Bill did likewise.

The Frenchman spoke.

“What does she mean?  How?”

Bill held up the GPS device.

“Maximilien is tracking us.  He wants his rockets back.”

The guard stopped Jeannine Ryan and Stew Marks at the gate to the North Charleston terminal.  He appeared nervous.

“Sorry, Ma’am, you can’t enter the grounds.  We closed at six pm.  Come back tomorrow at seven.  We open then.”

“Call your supervisor.  I’m sure he will let us pass.  It’s an urgent matter.”

“Sorry Ma’am.  It won’t help.  We had an incident earlier this evening.  I have strict instructions from my supervisor to let no one enter.”

“You mean unauthorized people entered earlier?”

“Sorry Ma’am, I can’t say.”

Jeannine shifted her ring to her wedding finger and turned the stone inwards.  With teary eyes she displayed her “wedding band” to the guard.

“Please help me.  I had to leave my baby with a neighbor.  My sneak of a husband was here to meet his girl friend tonight and pick up a truck or a container or something.  I’m sure they met here.  She’s a blonde bimbo who works in his office.”

She swallowed and continued.

“Could the incident this evening be about a stolen truck or its load, and a man and a blonde?”

Jeannine’s eyes went moist.

They carried the day.  The guard stammered.

“That was it Ma’am.  A guy and a blonde stole a container and took it away on a truck.  Now don’t tell anybody it was me that told you.  Now please Ma’am, you have to go back.  No one gets past these gates tonight.”

Jeannine masked a smile.

“Thank you.  You are kind and understanding.  I won’t bother you anymore.”

She backed the car and turned around.

Thank God, Bill, that you have the rockets, but why are you with that woman?

Stew Marks noted Jeannine’s frustration.  Her playing the aggrieved lover was not entirely feigned.  Denise still was with Bill.

Unsure what to say, he kept silent.

As Jeannine drove back onto Remount Road, Angelique spoke from the back seat.

“Where are you going now?  I was hoping to find Henri.”

“Angelique, I have no idea where your friend could be.  I’m still trying to find Bill.  I have one more place to try, a motel where he stayed in Summerville.”

She had started to say “he and I stayed,” but omitted the “I” out of deference to Stew Marks.

Damn it Jeannine, why did you do that?  You don’t care what he thinks.

She recoiled in surprise.

Or do you?

Maximilien rendezvoused with his men on the outskirts of Summerville.  He and Claude Senteli rode in a gray Audi followed by Pierre Sehene and three new recruits in a black Audi of the same year and model.  The two cars drove onto Interstate 26.

From his back seat, Maximilien spoke at some length with the Captain of the
Étoile d’Afrique
before briefing his headquarters in Florence on the changing situation.  Finally, tongue-weary, he clicked his phone off.

It buzzed immediately.

The call was from an agitated Superintendant Morris in North Charleston.

“I’ve been trying to reach you.  The line was busy.  The truck is stopped northwest of Summerville, on I-26.”

“How far past Summerville?”

“Far, it’s close to the interchange with I-95.”

“You should have called me sooner.”

The superintendant stayed silent.  He dared not remind Gutera that his line had been in use.

Gutera continued.

“Never mind, stay at your computer and stay on this line.  Tell me if they move.  You are fortunate, Mr. Morris, that they do not know we are tracking them.”

Morris answered.

“I’ll let you know the minute they move.”

Maximilien kept his line open.  Claude used his own phone to call Pierre Sehene in the black Audi.

Both cars, the gray Audi and the black, headed for the interchange with I-95.

Henri Duval followed as Bill Hamm sped southeast on I-26.  Hamm drove fast. Evidently he was not worried about being stopped by the highway patrol.

Henri needed to catch Denise Guerry alone, but that would be difficult because of Hamm.  In their encounter, Henri had felt Hamm’s strength.  The man was a formidable opponent. He must be cautious, Hamm would protect Denise.  For now, he had to wait.

His thoughts shifted to Angelique.  She should be safe with the police, whoever they were, but still he was troubled. In spite of the horrors she had seen, Angelique was truly an innocent.

Damn it Angelique, Denise despises you.  She would have been happy had Gutera killed you.

Ahead of him, Hamm continued to drive fast.  Distracted, Henri had lost ground.

He pressed his foot on the accelerator.

Maximilien Gutera’s gray Audi sped west on I-26.  Maximilien spoke to a weary Superintendant Morris in North Charleston.

“Mr. Morris, what is the status?  Where are they?”

“They have not moved.  They are still on I-26 near I-95.”

“Excellent.  My men and I can reach that intersection in ten minutes.  Make sure you keep this line open.”

Maximilien turned to Claude and waved him onwards.

“Claude, go faster.  We have them!”

Gutera’s car leaped forward.  The black Audi followed.

In his office, Superintendant Morris sighed in relief.

In Summerville, South Carolina, Jeannine Ryan stopped in front of the motel where she and Bill had stayed only days before.

“Wait here, Stew, I’ll only be a moment.”

She approached the desk.

“I’m Ms. Ryan, did anyone leave a message for me?”

The clerk handed her a paper from under the counter.

“He stopped by two hours ago.  He said it was from Julius.”

mhdqqlqh||zh|klg|

iodwehg|zlwk|urfnhwv|

|||fdq|phhw|ph|lq|

jhrujhwrzq|zkhuh|zh|

ohiw|iuhgv|slfnxs|

wuxfn||eloo|

Jeannine smiled.  Julius Caesar had used a simple cipher in the Gallic Wars.  She and Bill had encountered it in a previous case.  In the Caesar Cipher, each letter is replaced by the one three after it.  Thus
j
is written as
m
,
e
as
h
,
a
as
d
,
w
as
z,
and starting again at the beginning,
x
is written as
a
.  Jeannine worked quickly.

jeannine||we|hid|

flatbed|with|rockets|

|||can|meet|me|in|

georgetown|where|we|

left|freds|pickup|

truck||bill|

Bill had hidden the flatbed with its container and would meet her in Georgetown, South Carolina, where they had left Fred Middleton’s truck before going to North Carolina.

Jeannine returned to Stew and Angelique.

“Bill did it.  He hid the truck with Gutera’s rockets.  He’s gone to Georgetown.  We’re to meet him there.”

Stew sighed in relief.

Both of Maximilien’s Audis were parked on the shoulder of I-26.  They could see the interchange with I-95 ahead of them.  The Hutu leader was on the phone with Mr. Morris.

“Check your coordinates.  There is no truck here, only pinewoods.  Where are my rockets?  What game is this?”

“Mr. Gutera, those are the correct coordinates.  I would never mislead you, Sir.  Perhaps the truck is in the woods.”

“Fool!  That is impossible.  I have eyes.  Do not insult me!”

Sharp raps on the glass halted his outburst.  Maximilien lowered the window.  Claude Senteli handed him a small device.

“We found the problem, Sir.  This is the GPS device, the tracker.  It was over there near that big pine.  They must have thrown it out the window.  Our truck is gone.”