Transition Plan Chapter 92 - Searching for Jeanne Part 10
…January 1916. Dahomey…
The Colonel was practicing walking with his new leg prosthesis in the base hospital therapy room that had replaced the wooden cane that he had gotten fairly proficient with. His left arm was strengthened by a metal brace up to the elbow. He was moving around pretty well. Thirteen month old Michelle was helping him proudly, clutching his hand tightly.
The couple and their daughter had returned to base housing on Christmas day, but part of the daily routine was to walk over to the hospital for therapy as he got stronger and stronger.
"You walk good like me, Da-da," she praised her father proudly.
She walked and talked early and seemed to never stop with all the cute things she said and did.
That caused some very happy tears from Josephine who reached out and hugged them both.
"Looking good, Colonel," said a very pleased General as he arrived for his regular visit with Armand.
"Thank you sir. Can't wait to handle a rifle again," he joked, and saluted with his good right arm. He had full extension on that arm again.
"You know that isn't happening Armand," scolded Josephine.
"Relearning how do defend myself and my family from intruders is happening, Jo."
He had a point she couldn't refute.
What was unusual about the Special Forces' General's visit is that this time he had a British officer with him – also a general. Armand's boss introduced them. "Colonel, I'd like you to meet General Cunliffe. He commanded the forces in Kamerun and is freshly returned from our victory against the Germans in their capital of Jaunde back in early November. We're all meeting here at headquarters to figure out how to carve up the three conquered German colonies in western Africa for the British and French and Belgians."
Armand smartly salute the British leader, "Congratulations, General Cunliffe. Brilliant move getting the Belgians involved in the fight. It gave the Germans an impossible squeeze play from their eastern border with the Congo and us on the western part."
Cunliffe appreciated the professional praise from such an accomplished combatant. "Thank you Colonel. Well, that tactic was no less brilliant than what you did, Colonel Jacot. Even if what you did was a little… shall we say… unconventional. We would have lost at least 200 or more men if you hadn't distracted the Germans first before we fully engaged them. And I am very sorry you lost your two best men and most of you were seriously injured."
"Well thank you, sir. And I appreciate that sir. I'm glad to have been part of the battle, even for just a little while."
Cunliffe said mysteriously, "Well Colonel. You may not be fighting any more, but it's more important to have competent people to enforce the peace even more."
"Sir?" Armand asked.
Jacot's commanding officer asked, "You know the French Embassy in Nigeria is just about done, right?"
"Yes sir. It was supposed to be open more than a year ago, then the war came."
General Cunliffe replied, "True. Well now that the French and British rule western Africa now, we can establish a Regional Allied Armies Headquarters there. Nigeria is about midway between Kamerun and Togoland and the British Ivory Coast, and it's a straight shot south to Southwest Africa without getting near any hostile coastlines. I'll be stationed there and your boss will stay here in Dahomey, Armand, but we need a good right hand man in Nigeria, and especially a French ally co-located with the British who really knows the jungle. You come highly recommended, Colonel Jacot. You're an expert jungle fighter. The best in fact, based on what you accomplished."
"Thank you sir."
"Just because you can't fight anymore doesn't mean you can't teach. We need patrols proficient in jungle skills to maintain the peace in the villages and survive everywhere in the jungle and be safe. You're also good working with the natives in Nigeria. They trust you. I suspect other tribes will trust you too. Small teams of soldiers with good Special Forces jungle skills working with the local tribes are what we need now in the west, not standing armies. With the battles still raging in German Tanganyika and British Kenya and on Lake Victoria, we're transporting people as fast as we can on Count Clayton's ships from west to east. I understand you know him well because of the Kamina operation?"
That initially made Armand uncomfortable, given the complete falling out between the families, but he answered, "Right sir. We trained and fought together, although we've had some difficult personal troubles between the families because of Jeanne's abduction. We have to resolve those issues. Because of his estate here, and relations with the Nigerians, Count Clayton taught us a lot of tactics no one else knew how to do and we used it all in Garua. And what we learned from the Nigerian warriors too. They are amazing jungle fighters and the Nigerian Chief Abassi is a skilled warrior and great leader. We put it everything we learned from them to good use in Garua."
"That is exactly what I was hoping you would say, Colonel. I never knew you and your men were ever out there out there until the tower fell. That's what we need."
"You flatter me sir. But I am a soldier - not a bureaucrat."
"We're not looking for a bureaucrat. We need a military leader who inspires cooperation between nations' warriors and adopting unconventional ways of fighting and working together to maintain peace in the region. I need a deputy that can work across every military in the region, knows the natives, and is good with contractors. It looks like that is only one man, Colonel. You. And in your spare time – and I will make sure you have some - you can leverage all our resources to keep looking for your little girl. She was really brave like the Count's son. Since she's your daughter though, I'm not really surprised at her capabilities."
"Well sir, the last time I tried that, sir, I did it in an… uh… unauthorized manner."
"I know all about that rubbish, Colonel. We both talked to the Field Marshal just the other day about all this new assignment for you. Mademoiselle Jacot is a French national heroine for her role in the combat in Kamina. Search and rescue missions for missing in action combatants are authorized missions, soldier."
Josephine's excitement about going back to Nigeria under these circumstances was soaring.
"I'm grateful sir," Armand noted.
"Good. It's all settled and done then, Colonel?" Cunliffe insisted.
"Well sir, this is a very extraordinary career opportunity. And a real change in my life and my family with a move to Nigeria. The first time the family was there was because the war forced them to go with me. This time it's a job. I'd like to talk to my wife."
Cunliffe answered, "Certainly, Colonel. We'll come back in about…"
Josephine interrupted emphatically from across the room, "Take it! Take it, Armand! End of discussion."
Armand gave her a smile, and both generals had a good chuckle.
"Well sirs, I guess we had our private little talk," Armand grinned.
"And?" asked Cunliffe.
"What is your first order for me, General Cunliffe?" Armand smartly saluted.
They all laughed and shook hands. Josephine hugged her husband and his old commanding officer. She wasn't embarrassed. They were all friends anyway.
Cunliffe pondered, "First order? First, we dedicate the opening of the French embassy in Nigeria in the modern, English section of the Council of Chiefs village they call Lagos now. We need you to prepare the invitation list from the Nigerian tribal chiefs you worked with. We are planning a ceremony to inaugurate the Regional Allied Armies Headquarters too. Second, there is also the unfinished matter of honoring your squad's gallantry – before you and your men went AWOL last February, plus your heroism in Kamerun. We have medals for you and your men and Count Clayton and his boy, and for your daughter in absentia. She was part of this too, and will be an inspiration for young French women. The French and British insist on honoring you. No ducking out of this one this time."
"I'm afraid I wouldn't get very far this time anyway, sir…"
They laughed.
"One thing General Cunliffe," he asked his new commanding officer.
"Yes, Colonel?"
"Count Clayton won't come if it's a military award or ceremony. He and his family are very humble and don't think of themselves as warriors or being heroes. We can only get them there if it's only seen as a dedication for the Embassy and a meeting with the new French Ambassador. Count Clayton is the wealthiest and largest land owner in Nigeria. It's best if my new assignment is a secret until the ceremony. Our misunderstanding may make him decline the invitation."
While mostly truth, some of this was fabrication to trick the Count and his family to meet with him and Josephine. If the Count and Countess had any prior knowledge that the Jacot's were actually being stationed in Nigeria, the Clayton's would definitely avoid attending any ceremonies. That court order was another matter that needed to be rescinded. There was not much time for that. Courts moved slowly.
Cunliffe noted, "I understand Colonel. You will be in charge of how the invitation should read and how the protocols should be run. You know the Count best. He must be there and establish a good relationship with the Ambassador and us. You can resolve your differences when we get there."
"I will make the arrangements, sir."
Cunliffe stated, "Colonel, to make that job easier, we have a temporary office for you in the headquarters here. Be there in the morning. For now, you're dismissed. Enjoy your evening with the family. You have a cute little girl, Colonel. She looks like Madame Jacot."
"Yes sir, and thank you sir, and yes she does, fortunately for me," Armand grinned and saluted both generals.
The Special Forces General noted quietly on their exit, "Good job Armand. You earned this, soldier. You'll do great."
"It will be strange not serving under your direct command after all these years, sir," Armand reflected.
The General smiled as he departed, "You're not rid of me yet, soldier. Like it or not you'll work with me, not for me."
Josephine rushed over to her husband and nearly flattened him, "You do realize what this means don't you, soldier boy?"
"Yes, Jo. We get to set things right face to face with the Clayton's."
"More than that, Armand. We really can be friends again! And we'll live only 10 miles from them. Once we're reconciled, we all can visit Jane and her family in the treehouse. The kids can play together. And I can visit the Countess whenever I want to for advice and friendship when you do your military thing."
It was a set of circumstances that could not be better. The only thing that was worrisome was their first encounter after 18 months of legally enforced estrangement. Would the Clayton's be bitter? Would Jack have moved on from his friendship with Jeanne being permanently forbidden to see her again?
The three of them walked home together slowly holding hands. He walked well on his prosthetic leg, and really didn't need his cane, which he had tucked under an arm. He was looking forward to tackling the challenge of climbing a ladder soon, so he could do what Josephine already mentioned - scale the trunk of the Clayton's gigantic treehouse and shake the hand of his friend Tarzan at the grand entrance of their vast dwelling in the endless green canopy.
Armand watched the happy twinkle in Josephine's eyes and smile for him and their youngest daughter. A complete change had come over his wife. And he was glad of it. He'd already made that transition to forgiveness to the Clayton's a long time ago on the way to Garua. Despite their falling out over Jeanne's abduction, prior to that, Tarzan was his friend and respected fellow combatant, and he had respected Jack for what he had done for Jeanne through their growing friendship and more. In their weeks of observation of Jeanne with the native woman at Garua, instead of being angrier at Jack, it was clear all of Jack's jungle training of Jeanne had allowed her to survive the wilds and her captors. She was brave and resourceful. She was not the helpless little French girl prior to Morocco.
Jack deserved a second chance with his daughter. The real question was: would the Clayton's give them a second chance?
Armand was indebted to Tarzan for his unique jungle skills. Everything he learned from the ape man he used in the operations in Togoland and Garua. And above it all, despite the kidnapping, had it not been for Jack and Jeanne disobeying their families, that giant tower in Kamina would still stand and the battles of western Africa would still be raging, and not be Allied victories. Having Jeanne abducted was such a stiff price for victory, but he knew she'd survive and that she waited for her rescue. The opportunity would present itself again. Knowing his daughter well, Jeanne would make sure she'd create those opportunities in defiance of her captors.
…March 1916. Douala slums…
Karl-Heinz, Margrite, Gunter, and Meriem all stood before the boss. He addressed them, but focused on Meriem.
"You all have done great work. Especially you, young lady. You are quite the professional thief and a street-smart youth leader. You have skills few adults have. And unlike the boy gang leaders on the street, you, my dear, truly have an amazingly big pair of glocken."
The story of how tough Meriem was against Ulrich's confrontation was legendary in the shady crime underworld of Kamerun, and was not confined to that single confrontation. She fought viciously when challenged and carried a few scars to prove it.
Meriem blushed and looked at the floor, "Thank you sir."
It was a crass but unique compliment and she liked it.
"The rest of you? Fine work. All of you."
"Our pleasure sir," Karl-Heinz noted. He was actually really proud of his captive and the impression she made on the boss, all to their benefit. His young slave was becoming valuable to him in ways he had never considered, and in ways that would shame her family.
In a moment of compassion, the boss asked, "Gunter, how's the back?"
"Better since you put me on the crane, sir. Thank you."
The boss expounded on Gunter's skills, "No one in the harbor can work a crane to stack crates more effectively or unload a ship better than you, Gunter. You were born to do this. Ships turn much faster because of you. Everyone knows they can't make money just sitting in port. And I can't sell my cargo if it's just rotting in the hold of a ship. I have a dozen ships' captains who want you to load and unload them every time they're in port."
"Thank you sir. It would be my pleasure sir."
He then smiled at the crime family leader, "Karl-Heinz, my boy. You are the best 'spur of the moment deal maker' in the business. You've saved me tons of money and kept me from being gouged or cheated. You made lots of extra deals on the side and took money away from my competitors. You've never lost the edge. In fact, you're better than you were. I just might forgive some of that debt."
"Thank you sir. I would welcome that."
"Well… not so fast. You'll still owe me a bunch, but I'm going to give you a better chance to repay. Something's come up for all of you. Something much more important than keeping you here in Douala, I'm afraid."
"What sir?" asked Karl-Heinz in surprise.
Because the British conquered German Southwest Africa last May, I've been talking to people about building the business there ever since. The big battle is over and the Brits are in charge and everyone wants to take advantage to do business with British South Africa. And we would really improve connections from there with German East Africa – our country's last African colony. The German Army is losing the battle there to the British forces in Kenya. The Battle of Lake Tanganyika was particularly bad. But no matter who wins we still can grow the business."
"How does that involve me?" Karl-Heinz asked a little nervously. Life had become very good here in Douala for his little 'crime family'.
"I want you to be the deputy to the 'top dog' I work with there in Southwest Africa. His name is Jaeger, and their main business is at Walvis Bay harbor, but they have other operations in the nation's Capital in Windhuk. We're combining operations to make a lot more money faster for all of us with a 'black market' trade monopoly in southern Africa. Jaeger's operation is a lot like us, and knows he can't handle all the growth by himself and his small organization dealing with increased Southwest and South Africa trade. Plus he needs a 'details' guy to make it happen. The guy you're replacing took a bullet to the head in a drunken fight over a woman. That's where you fit. You're no risk – you're happily married."
Karl-Heinz and Margrite grinned at each other, knowing just how happily they were married. They had another exhaustive session together just the night before.
"Aren't we still at war in Southwest Africa?" Karl-Heinz asked on a more serious note and fretted at going into yet another war zone that wasn't completely settled down yet. He really didn't pay much attention to world events except when it directly inconvenienced him.
"Nope. Hostilities have been over since last May after the final battle at Khorab – about the time you fled Garua. The Prime Minister of South Africa – Louis Botha - is a powerful, ruthless strong man who was a British General that led the battles. He's already annexed Southwest Africa into South Africa and will have the Boer revolutionaries – still sympathetic to the defeated Germans - under control soon. He has lots of native muscle and is not afraid to use it. The tribes in those two countries don't like each other one bit. The British government has already moved in to take advantage of the riches there. I want you to work with Jaeger, the English, the Afrikaners, and the Portuguese traders across southern Africa. It can be an enormous combined business. You seem to know how to work with the natives pretty well, especially with Margrite as your wife. It's not every German man takes an African wife. They will respect that a lot."
"She's my greatest asset in any deal I make."
Margrite beamed at his praise and squeezed his hand. He did that a lot now.
The boss explained the deal, "Karl-Heinz. It's simple. I want you to make this alliance with Jaeger very lucrative for both of us. Make him look good and he'll give you a cut of his operation, make you a real partner, or give you your own operation that supports his business. Anyway he knows – and agrees - you are coming at my behest to seal the deal of cooperation between us. You aren't replacing him. We know we need each other. We've both got stuff the other needs and want to share total control, the people to keep it that way, and keep the small guys out of our business. Understand? You're my man in his operation to make all of us richer."
That would prevent any fear of infighting or attempted 'hit job'. That was a relief to Karl-Heinz. He could murder someone, but he would prefer not to.
"Yes sir, understood. Thank you for this great honor. I want this new job, boss."
Margrite was so proud of Karl-Heinz. It was a huge new level of trust between the boss and her husband. Only a few months ago, the boss wasn't even sure he wanted Karl-Heinz back in his crime business. She didn't care where she was as long as she was with him wherever they would travel.
"What else, boss?"
"I also need a better shipper. I'll take care of that while you're transferring there. I've been talking with some big wig do-gooder from England. He's none the wiser about the true nature of our operation, and it makes us look legit to deal with this 'nice guy'. Once I land that deal, you need to negotiate to extend the contract with that same shipper to provide service to include Jaeger's operation. We make more money only paying one shipper. This guy is the only one not badly decimated by the war. He's the biggest and best."
"Got it boss. When do we leave?"
"One of my first new shipments goes to Jaeger two days from now. You and your family will be on that boat going south. Gunter, I want you to personally load it so I know it's done right. Get going. You can sleep on the freighter after you're all done."
"Yes sir. On it now," Gunter noted, turned and left in a hurry.
Two days was barely enough, even with his skills. He grabbed the bill of lading from one of the boss' shipping clerks. He'd need to get hold of the best loading crews on the wharf to get this big job done.
The boss further explained, "You guys get the guest quarters on the freighter. It's safe. There are no U boats operating in the South Atlantic, thanks to the British and French navies, and this boat is still registered to a small German merchant marine company here in Africa that the Brits allowed to do business for them. It's kind of a shield, and the German Navy's none the wiser with no Wireless. But they're really small and inefficient. That's why I'm going to go with the big British cargo line."
"This is so sudden," Meriem exclaimed in worry. She couldn't say why to any of them.
"It's a chance of a lifetime, Fraulein Meriem. I got you lined up as an 'intern' in our new partner's business. You'll do a lot of odd jobs, run errands, and learn the business directly from Jaeger. You'll even get tutored in math and reading. I know you're only ten and a half. This is stealing and cheating and hiding money on a continental scale, Meriem, not just grubbing for food and money day by day in a rundown slum. I think you have the talent for it, just like Karl-Heinz. You don't have to learn to steal on the streets there, and I don't want you to. It's too dangerous. Botha is a despot and has real cops – who are really his brutal soldiers disguised in police uniforms - and the custom there is to cut thieves' arms and legs off if they get caught. You're too pretty for that. You and your parents will want for nothing. Even a good flat comes with this deal. Understood?"
"Yes sir," Meriem said softly. There was no going back from this. She couldn't stay.
"And what about Dieter? Our lease runs for another year," Margrite fretted.
The boss shrugged, "I'll pay him off. Not to worry. He's a good man. I owe him. He raised you. Look how you turned out. And look how you've guided Meriem."
"Thank you sir," she beamed.
The boss had one final challenge for them, "Now go home, get packed, say goodbye, and be at Pier 7 at nine am sharp on the day after tomorrow."
"Absolutely, sir," Karl-Heinz noted.
The two adults were chattering happily as they walked back to their rundown flat with this amazing opportunity, but Meriem was absolutely silent. This was the worst that could happen to her. The girl was nearly beside herself, but hid her worries. How could Jack possibly find out that she was leaving Douala for Southwest Africa, which was 5800 kilometers from the land of Mangani – reachable only by boat? She was desperate. Southwest Africa might as well have been on the moon. She would be completely out of touch with Jack and a chance of rescue any time soon. She was very shaken.
Margrite noticed her distress, "Are you all right, dear?"
Meriem lied, "I will miss my gang, Mom. They are my friends now. I… I have to tell them today."
Calling Margrite 'Mom' was an everyday occurrence now as were hugs and kisses for each other.
"Will they be all right without you, sweetie?" Margrite empathized for her surrogate daughter.
Meriem shrugged, "Rolfe is a great leader. He'll take over. I was going to give him part of the gang anyway. We needed to split again."
After getting back to the flat at Dieter's to pack their things for travel, Margrite told the slum lord about leaving, which really saddened him. He was very happy to have her back.
Meriem took off deeper into the town and visited her gang at their latest gathering place. It was a very tearful good bye, but Rolfe was ecstatic about being permanently put in charge of Meriem's Marauders as they were known, and the other children trusted him because she did. He was 13.
They kissed goodbye. His lips felt nearly as good as Jack's, and that really surprised Meriem.
"I'll miss you, Meriem."
"Same here, Rolfe."
"Write me?"
"I'll try. Every letter takes about three months."
"I can wait. Will you be back?"
"I don't know. I kind of have to do what the big boss tells me to. Like the rest of the family."
She never even blinked using the term 'family' to describe her captors now.
"Listen, Meriem. I want to see you again. You're my… umm… special friend," the boy said. He just couldn't say girlfriend. It was too bold.
Meriem understood his meaning even if he could not say the word, "We can try, Rolfe. We'll be so far away. There are a lot of nicer girls here for you."
Meriem turned, fighting back tears despite herself, and walked away before he could say anything more about not wanting a nicer girl instead of her. She knew she was not a 'nice girl' anymore. Rolfe was a friend that could have been a lot more, but she tried to concentrate on thinking about Jack. Jack was her boyfriend, not Rolfe.
Then reality smacked her right in the face. Jack was Jeanne's boyfriend, not Meriem's.
The Jeanne within Meriem was screaming and her heart pounded that she even considered a friendship with another boy could go further than just a friendship. Jeanne needed the comfort of the link with Jack. She'd tried constantly for months but nothing worked. She despaired that Jack had sensed her emotions about Rolfe and was upset. Or maybe Jack didn't want to link with her anymore. Or couldn't, as Meriem's thinking had turned to possibilities with Rolfe. Those possibilities - abruptly ended - upset her terribly in more than one way.
…
At precisely 9 AM two days later, Meriem's crime family climbed the gangplank on the German flag carrier and settled in below. They were the last item of cargo. Gunter was already racked out on one of the bunks after nearly 48 hours of flawless loading. The harbormaster tried to hire Gunter away from the boss at the last minute, but several of the boss' henchmen convinced the grizzled old longshoreman of the futility of that desire. His arm was still sore.
Margrite and Karl-Heinz were invited to join the Captain on the bridge for the departure, and so they simply dumped their luggage and left the cabin quickly. Given the excitement of the new assignment for the boss, the adults never noticed how forlorn Meriem was, and she stayed in the cabin and looked out one of the two portholes. That was going to be a claustrophobic view for the weeks it would take to get to Southwest Africa. She could feel the mooring lines get cast off, the orders shouted by the merchant mariners, and the big steam engines surge into action as the huge ship started to leave port, aided by several small tugboats.
And then her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped.
In the second berth down the wharf from their ship, a British freighter had just come into port. On the side it said: Clayton Shipping Limited.
On the deck, getting ready to debark from the British freighter, were Jack and Tarzan. She instantly 'got it'. Count Clayton was the British 'big wig' and his cargo line was the one the boss was talking about partnering with. She chastised herself for being so stupid to not remember that Count Clayton was a British business magnate, not just a nobleman and a jungle lord.
"Omigawd. It's Jack!" she exclaimed to herself.
There was no way to get off without causing a huge scene. If Karl-Heinz saw her try to escape he'd shoot her from the bridge of the ship. There was no way she'd leap into the heavily polluted and debris filled water and try to swim to the British freighter. She wasn't that good a swimmer anymore. Instead, she banged on the porthole and the metal hull of the ship in her cabin, but the glass wouldn't break. She managed to force it open a tiny crack and screamed Jack's name, but noise of the busy harbor from all the ships and cranes and men and vehicles and the ship itself was too loud. Hers was one little voice in the cacophony that characterized a busy harbor.
Jeanne was desperate to get Jack's attention. She could see that he held a stack of posters, and he showed one to the harbormaster. It was a rendering of Jeanne as she looked a very long time ago, with her below-the-back length long hair and wearing the frumpy makeshift French uniform like she wore in Nigeria, not the near-bald buzz cut, hat, and pants outfit she had now. She could see the harbormaster shake his head. No one in Douala would ever recognize her as the French girl he'd met in Nigeria. No one here knew her as Jeanne Jacot. But she appreciated how he hard he was trying. Perhaps someone would recognize Jeanne's face or striking eyes as Meriem's and tell Jack.
Jeanne could tell from Jack's body language which she knew too well that he was crestfallen that the harbormaster hadn't seen her, and she cried as Jack and his father disappeared down the gangplank to the dock and into a fancy horse-drawn carriage the boss had supplied, and her ship quickly cruised out to sea.
She turned away from the porthole, leaned against the cold steel hull of their cabin, and whispered with a bittersweet smile, "Oh, Jack. You haven't given up. You're still looking for me. More than ever. Thank you."
She would have never thought of putting posters all over the city, and she was proud of him for being so resourceful. She wished that Jack's father and her real mother would let Jack be more aggressive at searching for her now that her father was gone. It was over a year and half they'd been apart. But she remembered was a war going on, and her father had died in the first rescue attempt. There were so many risks in traveling into active war zones, even if the battles had been mostly won. She wanted her boyfriend to be alive to return to.
She resolutely promised she could endure this awful existence. For a moment Meriem was pulled back to the wishful past reality of Jeanne that she so much wanted to rejoin.
Jeanne's tears streamed in happiness at simply just seeing Jack even for a moment and seeing him actively search for her. She was buoyed with hope for the first time in months. If he and his father had come here for negotiations, then he would come to Southwest Africa when the boss was ready to negotiate the shipping monopoly with Clayton Shipping Limited. She just had to bide her time as an intern to this new boss. Maybe whatever she learned could be used against the boss, the new crime lord, and Karl-Heinz. This time she vowed that she would escape, and she snickered that in part it would be her own doing without Jack even knowing.
What a great story that would be for her and Jack's grandchildren.
She closed her eyes and savored the scene she had witnessed on the Clayton freighter. At ten and half years old, Jack was more handsome than ever in the formal suit sized for him that matched his father's. Even in the stiff English suit, she could tell Jack was much taller and trimmer and becoming more muscular. She was not bashful to think about that wonderful physique under all of Jack's clothes. And she dreamed about his longer dreadlocks tied back in a ponytail like his father.
"Oh… those dreads," she thought.
Margrite returned to the cabin from being a guest on the bridge with Karl-Heinz and the ship's captain when they were well out to sea. She saw that Meriem was distraught.
"There. there, dear, I know you miss them," she wiped the tears still staining her cheek with her dress, and kissed her forehead. Meriem hugged Margrite.
Meriem said, mostly in truth, to hide her pain over being dragged away from Jack again, "It hurts so much to leave them, Mom. I never had real friends in France."
Margrite noticed the damaged porthole. The damage looked fresh. Had Meriem tried to escape or warn someone? She dismissed the thought. It was too small for Meriem to squeeze through.
"I know sweetheart," she soothed her, stroking her hair, and said, "It's that boy Rolfe you told me about the other day, isn't it? You miss him because you like him, right?"
For a moment Jeanne thought Margrite meant Jack, but settled down and answered, "I do, Mom."
Margrite hugged her and encouraged, "Well, you're young now, but when you're both old enough maybe you can get back together. We won't be in Southwest Africa forever. Once you learn the business with Herr Jaeger I think the boss will want you back here to help him directly."
"I sure hope so," the pre-teen answered. But she didn't mean the street gang leader Rolfe. Or going back the business. She was still focused on handsome ten and half year old Jack Clayton.
…
Jack never saw or heard Jeanne's frantic screams and pounding on the porthole and bulkhead of the ship to attract his attention toward the German freighter. She was just out of his peripheral vision and he was focused on plastering the city with his lost girlfriend's posters.
The Viscount had been very anxious to be in Douala for months. It took forever to convince his dad and mom by the clues he had to piece together. His father would have never believed him that it was Jeanne's voice in his head that told him she was here. After that it took weeks to convince Admiral D'Arnot that it was safe for him and his dad to travel together on one ship in wartime no matter how safe the waters of western Africa were, and get a Navy escort that wasn't engaged on the vicious battle on the Atlantic against the U boats to protect the freighter. But at least they were finally here.
The thing that had really convinced Tarzan to bring Jack to Douala was the need for him to be present at the conclusion of the lucrative shipping deal to learn how business is done in addition to searching for Jeanne. This was a unique situation – it would give the Count's shipping business exclusive rights to shipping all cargo in and out of Douala. The Allies desperately needed raw materials in Kamerun for the war effort – and why the Germans had fought so hard to keep the colony - and this was a perfect arrangement to get control of the newly occupied colony's trade routes. Clayton Shipping's legendary 'on time quality service' made them the best suited for this important deal. Jack could spend a lot of time learning from Tarzan about the most profitable of the family's businesses with this deal.
Tarzan promised Jack they could spend a lot of time looking for Jeanne, however weak the trail of clues was, in their free time between rounds of negotiations. This was one such opportunity.
Jack excitedly unrolled the poster for the harbormaster, but the man sadly shook his head that he'd never seen such a striking young woman, but that he'd put several on the bulletin boards just in case.
It did disturb the harbormaster that the men accused of abducting the girl were named on the poster – Karl-Heinz and Gunter, known to be in the company of a native woman. He said nothing, knew that the men and the woman had just left Douala for Southwest Africa with the young girl, but also knew he had to report this to the boss. The harbormaster didn't work for the boss, but they collaborated on a lot of things. Having an important English Count implicating these trusted men of the boss in a major crime would make things… messy… for all of them.
Over the next few days, in between negotiating sessions with the Douala crime boss, Tarzan and Jack visited the authorities about Jeanne.
The same story with the harbormaster happened with the mayor of Kamerun, but he agreed to help Count Clayton in the search for the pretty lost girl, and authorized putting as many posters up as needed. He took a number of the posters from Jack. Karl-Heinz and Gunter were known names to the mayor, both working in the dirty underbelly of society in Kamerun for the boss. But with a lot of German civilians in the city, even after British occupation, a lot of middle-aged German men looked like Gunter and Karl-Heinz.
About a week later they went to the police and showed him the poster.
The Chief of Police recognized the men's names and the girl's image but didn't admit it, and lied to Jack, "I've heard of Karl-Heinz and Gunter, but they are just laborers and they don't seem like troublemakers. But this girl's face is intriguing. I've known of a boy reportedly doing street crimes with a face similar to hers. He is a leader of a street gang that stole food and money but despite the reports, we've never caught them in the act. No one has seen the kid in over a week. I would really like to capture that kid committing a crime. We were getting really close. I had an undercover agent on the street that would have gotten him soon. I would have strung him up in the town square in public and let him rot a few days as an example to all the other gangs. After the British victory, crime has gone crazy here. They didn't really put anyone in charge."
Realizing the Count was British, "No offense, Count."
"None taken. Law enforcement is not my business."
"Well that is ours, of course. If we catch this boy, we'll let you know before he gets hanged for his crimes. Maybe he can tell you something about this Jeanne you're looking for."
"That would be most helpful, sir," Jack said with encouragement.
The police chief examined the poster closer, "Did she have a twin brother? Perhaps the thief we are trying to catch is him."
"No, she had no brother her age. She has a brother or a sister about two years old."
"That's too bad, Viscount Clayton. Even though we haven't seen a girl like this, we'll put some of your posters up. I'm sorry to worry you further young man, but pretty girls like this tend to get taken by force and are always inside the brothels anyway. I don't know if you can stomach searching that part of town. You might not like what you find or see."
He gasped with that awful possibility. He was very disturbed with that thought. They left the police headquarters dejected. And frightened.
"What if Jeanne… Oh dear God, Dad… no… they can't make her do that… she's my age…" Jack worried to his father.
"There's a lot of horrible things that happen to children in this world, son, I am sorry to say. But I think she'd be able to escape that kind of life and it seems the kidnappers are more common criminals who just want her do all the menial jobs for stealing and robberies," Tarzan explained. He was just postulating to calm his frantic son.
It was little comfort to Jack. He couldn't imagine Jeanne's pretty body being used like that.
Tarzan asked the hard question, "Jack, my dear son… would you still love her if she was forced into a life like that, and you were the one who rescued her from it?"
Jack never hesitated, "Oh yes, Dad. Of course. I'd dedicate my whole life to making her feel normal and loved by just me again."
"That's my boy," smiled Tarzan.
Father and son hugged.
As fast as Jack's search in earnest had begun on a positive note, it seemed to be a lost cause searching on the streets of Douala, even in the red light district. Fortunately in that seedy part of town, no one recognized this girl. After a few generous bribes to the local pimps for information on her, Jack was confident that she wasn't here and far too young to be one of their 'workers'. But the traffickers didn't tell the Clayton's what Meriem really did on the streets of Douala. They valued their lives too much to reveal all.
Their free time was up and it was time for negotiations to conclude with the head of the trading cartel. Tarzan and the man the others knew as 'the Boss of Douala' took many hours with their discussions, but in the end, the dark oak doors to his study swung open and the two men emerged smiling and shaking hands. Jack was fascinated by how business was done in the adult world and admired his father's skills at making a very fair deal and how he used his trusted advisors during the debate to help him make the best deal possible. Sometimes Jack was really bored though, but even then he tried to listen and learn. Someday it would be his responsibility to negotiate deals that best benefited the family – with respect and honor and integrity like his father always did.
The boss asked, as they shared a rare bottle of brandy to seal the deal, "How soon can we start working with you, Count Clayton?"
The freighter at berth in the harbor is empty. Give my captain a destination and a bill of lading and we begin our venture right away."
The boss smiled, "A man of immediate action. I do truly like that, Count Clayton."
The boss turned to Jack and asked, "What did you think of all that, Viscount? All boring adult stuff?"
"Well sometimes sir, but this is my family's business and I must learn it from my father. Perhaps your son and I will be doing business in the future."
"What a good son and smart lad you are, Viscount," the man praised.
"Thank you, sir."
But the boss noticed a troubled look on the boy's face, "Young man, something is bothering you. I can always read people."
"Well sir it is a personal matter. I do not wish to trouble you with it."
"In my experience, personal matters always stand in the way of good business. Out with it, son."
"Well. I have a friend who is a girl. She was abducted long ago after a battle in Togoland by two bad criminals. It seems they may be hiding her in Douala. I was there when it happened."
"What does she look like?
Jack handed him a folded poster. While nothing else was similar, the girl's eyes and face struck him and he recognized Meriem immediately. It was a shame she had lost that beautiful hair. But the boss pretended like he did not know her.
"Young Viscount. I was born here in Douala. I know almost everyone. Strangers in town, especially a young girl this pretty, I would notice. Or one of my employees would. I shall make sure everyone in my business is looking out for this girl. I would like to bring these criminals to justice in the interest of our good business partnership with your father.
"Thank you. I am most grateful." Jack was very encouraged.
"Of course Viscount. She was your friend."
"She is my friend. I will not end my search until I find her. No matter how long it takes."
The boss was a little shocked at the power of his conviction. And he knew the Clayton's had the resources and power to find her over the long haul. It made him nervous.
"That would be a great favor to our family, sir. You would get a very large reward," added Tarzan.
They left with both the shipping contract and the promise of help in finding Jeanne in Douala if she was here. It was time to depart for Nigeria and the land of the Mangani. Their ride home could not wait forever. They headed toward the harbor. They could see the British corvette in its berth.
Tarzan asked, "That was a very productive trip, don't you think son?"
The contract was worth millions of pounds Sterling, that would bring much needed funds to rebuild the Clayton shattered fleet, with far too many freighters and lives lost. It would also help fund the survivors' benefits of dead crews and shattered families. He was the only one doing that for stricken merchant mariners' families of his fleet.
"It would have been even more productive if we came home with Jeanne. Every clue pointed to her being here."
"I know, son. At least we have some very trustworthy people looking for her now."
Jack had a momentary doubt, "That's true. But, Dad. What if they did know about her and are hiding that from us? Something just wasn't right with some of them."
"They appear to be good people, Jack. Why would they hide knowledge of her? She's just a little girl."
"I suppose so."
"If I ever do find out they knew and were suppressing it, then I would rip the contract to shreds and have them all arrested."
"Thanks Dad. You always are looking out for me. And Jeanne."
"I love her too, son."
They got back on the naval escort corvette ship D'Arnot had provided them to return home, while the freighter they'd steamed into port loaded for Southwest Africa.
While the corvette steamed swiftly back to Nigeria, the ship's skipper approached the pair, and handed Tarzan a note,"A message for you sir."
Tarzan read the telegraph message. It was in French: Honorable Count Jonathan Robert Clayton: Your family's presence is requested at the new French Embassy dedication in Nigeria in July 14, 1916 on the occasion of Bastille Day to meet with the new French Ambassador and join in the celebration with the British Ambassador and other dignitaries. You are invited for the night prior to the occasion with the Ambassador's family in their personal residence for a private dinner with the family, and breakfast the following morning with the Chief of Nigeria and the Ambassador and the Ambassador from England before in the dedication of the Embassy and new the joint Regional Allied Armies Headquarters.
Tarzan was very pleased to see the note. This was something he could not say no to under any circumstances, especially a night at the Residence. Let's not waste any time. I do not want to keep the French Ambassador waiting, "Can we go faster, Captain?"
"I thought you'd never ask, Count. Ahead full!"
"This will be exciting," Jack thought as he felt the powerful twin diesels roar to full power and clung to the railing as the patrol boat started planing in the smooth ocean and the salt air streamed through his dreadlocks. The corvette was the fastest ship in the world capable of over 30 knots in the open ocean.
"Dad can we buy one of these?"
"I'll talk to Philippe. But certainly without a gun."
"Who needs a gun? I have my bow and you have your knife."
They laughed and enjoyed the quick ride back home.
…
The boss, in his study on the second floor, watched the Clayton's depart for the shipyard. The boss examined Jack's poster of Jeanne Jacot for the millionth time. It was clearly Meriem at an earlier time. There was no question this was Karl-Heinz' adopted daughter. It was too bad she was really abducted, but there was no hint of good in her. They obviously converted her to their ways. But it didn't make him any less angry.
He stood up and tossed his brandy glass at the wall, smashing it. He scowled.
"Scheisse Karl-Heinz. It's Meriem. You kidnapped her for a ransom to pay me off? Clever but very dangerous. Your damn names are on this wanted poster. Why didn't you tell me you abducted this girl from some very powerful people? I don't need this kind of obstacle to our expansion. I must have this deal. Jaeger and Clayton want it too. We can't have Clayton Shipping pulling out if they find out you two idiots are working for me. Good thing you're gone."
There came a knock at the door. It was the mayor in a cloak, the harbormaster, and the Chief of Police in a disguise. They carried every poster Jack Clayton had given them to put up.
The mayor spoke first as all entered the home, "We have to tell you something. There's real trouble. That British bloke and his lad are stirring up things for Karl-Heinz, Gunter, and Margrite about a kidnapping. Aren't those your people? You know we don't really condone that kind of behavior. Especially about children. Isn't the kidnapped girl Karl-Heinz' daughter Meriem?"
The police leader added, "It's strange though, she sure doesn't seem like a kidnap victim. She's the toughest thief and youth gang leader in the city. I had to lie through my teeth to protect her. What happened? What did they do to change her? What kind of power do they have over her?"
"Yes it is Meriem. I already know this, and yes she is different. She's Meriem now, not this innocent soldier's daughter Jeanne Jacot," the boss explained, showing them his copy of the mountain of posters, "If you find any more of these posters, destroy them. If anyone comes to you with knowledge shut them up from talking to the Count. Pay them off. I have money. Make them disappear if they won't shut up. If not, we blow the biggest deal ever for all of us. If you find any of the posters the Clayton's put up on their own, tear them down. Burn them all. We all have to keep this quiet or everyone's head rolls. Meanwhile, thank God, Karl-Heinz and Meriem are nearly 6000 kilometers from here. He's safe far away. They're under Jaeger's protection now. In a few months we'll tell the Count that we searched everywhere but never found her."
The police chief warned, "But we have to tell Jaeger. Botha's different. His men will arrest them if these posters get around there."
"I'll write a letter to Karl-Heinz. I'll tell them to be very quiet, destroy any posters, stay only in the black market trade circles, and above all keep everyone including Meriem, or Jeanne, or whatever her name really is, closely guarded and away from any of these Clayton people."
The other three men agreed with the boss' actions.
The boss further noted, "But that will be a long time from now. I'll stall the negotiations with the Count for the Southwest Africa, but give him enough business and bonuses to keep him interested in expanding there. I'll insist that we don't need him to conclude the negotiations – a deputy will be all right. We'll make it sound like an extension of the contract we just signed. I have to keep him and the boy out of Southwest Africa."
The harbormaster cautioned, "From what people tell me, that's not his style. The Count's reputation is that he likes to be right in the middle of his business affairs. He doesn't ask his employees to do anything he won't do himself. How long?"
"He's more naïve than I thought. As long as it takes to let this blow over. I know Clayton will make that deal with Jaeger. He is desperate to get money to pay back all his shipping that went to the bottom of the ocean. He doesn't want any competition either – that firm from Scandinavia could get the deal over him if he doesn't go with me."
"We're with you," they promised and they all departed quietly and separately.
The boss rubbed his forehead in annoyance. Karl-Heinz and Gunter were some of his best men, Karl-Heinz especially with his deal-making talents, but this secret little caper in revenge over having the radio station destroyed by the girl's father at Kamina was going to undo them all if he didn't help them clean up their messes. Thank goodness he sent them out of town when did. It was too bad he needed them so badly or he'd just kill them, return the girl to the Clayton's and be a hero to the new British government and their French allies, get lots of reward money, and be done with it with a hard lesson learned. He did ponder what they had done to twist an innocent little French girl's mind to be a criminal like them though. That was disturbing.
He wrote a very harsh letter to Karl-Heinz and sent it out on another small freighter a couple of days later. He ended it with the words: '… you must clean this up. Swear Meriem to keep quiet and let this be the last word of this matter. Understood?'
He sealed the letter and sent it on a government freighter the next week. The letter and ship and crew went to the bottom of the Atlantic however, destroyed by an unexpected monstrous South Atlantic Ocean storm.
Karl-Heinz and Gunter never got the warning.