Transition Plan Chapter 108: Searching for Jeanne Part 26
Author's Notes: We've come a long way in a short time, and I am really glad you have liked the more rapid publication and longer chapters I needed to tell this tale. With three chapters per week and many double-length chapters, we are about eight weeks ahead of where we would be! This is the last of the rapid fire chapters for awhile. I'm on vacation over the next couple of weeks and you won't see anything before September. So I am leaving you with a cliffhanger, but hopefully a cliffhanger you can live with. Enjoy this double length chapter that covers this Friday and next Friday's publish dates! :)
Warning: Heavy duty T rated for lots of violence and profanity, death, and a very uncomfortable scene of human trafficking.
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Dawn broke and the auctioneer came by their tent for instructions and final details of Jeanne's sale.
The auctioneer greeted the Karl-Heinz and Gunter, ignored Margrite, and leered at the new slave girl, checking her teeth, nose, eyes and ears like preparing a horse for sale, and looking down her cleavage. He spoke past her like she was just an object and only to Karl-Heinz, "So what's this beautiful thing for sale today? Young adult…? That's good. We need more of these. We get too many useless kids. Red slinky dress. Nice. Well built, healthy. Any restrictions?"
Karl-Heinz noted, "No. Any job. But we'd especially like someone from the private entertainment business to take her. She's got the body for it."
"I'll say!" the auctioneer agreed, eyeing her up and down with a lustful smile as if she couldn't see or hear him.
Jeanne and Margrite glared at Karl-Heinz and he gave both a nasty grin.
The kidnapper shrugged, "But honestly, it doesn't matter. Any high bid will do. This one's been trouble for years, and is getting her just due today. We gave her plenty of chances to behave. But we're done with her."
"Too bad. I could see a lot of uses at home for this one. Too bad I'm on the clock. I'd bid for this one," chuckled the auctioneer.
Margrite bit her lip.
The auctioneer looked her over and grabbed the chains and shackles from an assistant, "OK girl, let's get you ready. This won't hurt a bit. Nothing personal. This is just business. Your registration says you're a flight risk. We don't want you running away from your buyers. It would be a shame to shoot you. That would be bad for business."
Jeanne just could take no more and she whimpered terribly seeing the heavy bonds.
"Shut up, bitch," Gunter warned and flicked out her own knife at her.
Karl-Heinz warned, "Gunter, you don't want to damage the merchandise. She's not ours any more. You'll devalue the sale."
"Shit. I missed all my chances, boss. Maybe I'll buy her. Just for spite," he sneered. Jeanne just looked away.
The slave master started to prepare her for sale. His burly hooded assistant gave his boss a couple of painful looking shackles and chains best sized for a woman to secure her well.
"Clothes or nothing?" the man asked before attaching the restraints.
Karl-Heinz started to say, "Noth…
But Magrite interjected loudly, "Clothes, dammit! Give her a little dignity. She's still a young woman, you son-of-a-bitch, you've owned her for 9 years! She grew up with us."
The auctioneer didn't want to get in the middle of the battle between the husband and wife, and asked, "So… which is it?"
Karl-Heinz glared at his wife and said angrily, but requested, "Clothed. At least to start. I guess I owe her that."
The kidnapper sighed and knew he was not going to make as much money this way.
The auctioneer affixed a wide leather collar instead of a metal one to cover the choke marks left by Farnsworth so that it would not add to the bruising or cause bleeding. He added a strong rope instead of a heavy chain to the collar that fell between her bust line that would be used to tie her to the main post when her sale started. Her wrists and ankles were bound with heavy, rusty, old iron bars and chains.
Jeanne felt like nine again in the shackles, which were much more confining than chains. It was a terrible memory.
"I hate you, Karl-Heinz," Jeanne's hazel eyes burned through him. He actually felt uncomfortable, despite her being helpless in the restraints.
He retorted, "When did you ever stop hating me, Meriem? Do I need to gag you too?"
Jeanne looked away and said nothing more. She felt like she was being led to her death, and a way she was. Soon, the last moral she clung to would die. She didn't really need the clothes after today. It was just something that Margrite asked for to make her feel better at her final moments of relative freedom with them. It didn't matter, because soon she'd be on her back every day and night in those dark rooms down the street for whatever life she had left with the men who'd pay to have her.
"So much for only one time ever", she thought ironically.
Still, she didn't regret her decision to defy Farnsworth, because it was her own decision to say 'no'. Becoming a real slave was not her decision. Her conscience could accept that, and she vowed to dream that every awful man from now on was her precious Jack, even if she was now going to be lost forever deep in the bowels of the 'red light district' of the city.
At 7:30 AM the slave market opened to a loud gong. It was actually festive for the buyers and sellers and for the curious onlookers and thrill seekers. For the slaves though, it was the end of their world. You could hear them wail and moan with anguish. Jeanne was silent and looked completely defeated, her head hanging in shame.
She watched the other slave sales ahead of her. About half were younger than her, and she had so much pity on them seeing and hearing their fear. Most of them were brand new kidnap victims. She remembered those times vividly and knew first hand the looks of helplessness and terror at the hands of their captors. She felt lucky that she was the only one who could keep her clothes for her sale. It would be the last modest moment for her ever.
Margrite felt awful, but couldn't do anything, for fear of being stabbed or being put on the block herself. She knew she had a baby coming that she never thought she could have and that she wouldn't tell anyone about. She didn't know how to say goodbye to Meriem. What was there to say, anyway? All they did was exchange glances. Margrite had to look away she was ashamed, having failed Jeanne one last time. She saw all the accusations and true abandonment in the girl's eyes.
"Goodbye, 'Mom'," Jeanne said disdainfully.
Margrite felt even more ashamed. As before, she always yielded to Karl-Heinz' wishes, and was never there for Jeanne when the girl needed her most, like her real mom would have.
As the time for Jeanne's sale got closer she got much more desperate, "Please Karl-Heinz, please don't do this to me. I am sorry, really sorry. I'll stay with you and get the 2 million some other way. I've done it before. You know how good I am at so many things. Remember what I did at Walvis Bay. I will obey your every command from now on. No resistance. I'll talk Farnsworth into coming back, and Gunter, you can watch all the fun and to make sure he doesn't try to strangle me this time. I'll even let you and Gunter have a turn. You both always did want me."
Karl-Heinz loved Jeanne's begging. It was pathetic, and quipped, "You'd never do that. You're just desperate."
"Please… just let me stay," she pleaded.
It was a tempting offer for Gunter, but Karl-Heinz gave him a nasty look.
Karl-Heinz answered her pleas, "Too late. You are the property of the slave market now. I turned over my rights. You will be sold to someone here today no matter what, and I get the proceeds. Even if I did want you back I'd have to bid for you. Meriem, I'm exhausted from your years of constant whining and bullshit and undermining everything I do. This is the most fitting punishment for you - to be subjected to the life you hated the most for the rest of your days. My ultimate revenge on you."
She was desperate and offered, "What about the account numbers? If you have me freed I will give them to you and you'll be rich again."
The man snarled, "I'd rather have you gone from my life than get the money from you. No money is worth having you around any more."
She broke down.
"Stop that! You'll ruin your makeup," her kidnapper ordered, but she kept crying. It was smearing.
"I told you to stop that, Meriem," and he slapped her, "Dammit! You ruined your make up. Put it back on, Margrite!"
They heard the bell signaling the slave market was ready for her sale. Jeanne gasped and her heart skipped a beat, and she moaned in terror. She couldn't believe this was it. Her time was getting short.
"Noooo! Please no," she pleaded. Her cries were joined by the cries and screams of all the others after her, knowing their turn was soon.
Jack paced in the market courtyard, watching the other sales until the bell rung for her, until the ushers escorted all the bidders for Jeanne's sale into the seating area. He tried to ignore the screams and cries of the other sales before her. He'd put 10,000 Pounds earnest money down to to assure his ability to bid, but the auctioneer wondered who would worth that kind of money today. They slave market owners took a dim view of this scruffy tribesman.
There were a lot of good slaves available, but no one was spectacular, except maybe the dark girl in the red dress. Jack sat in a seat near the front so the auctioneer wouldn't miss him, but kept as far away from Karl-Heinz' tent as possible to not be noticed by them. He kept his hood up despite the heat.
One of the ushers said calmly, "Too late to inspect the merchandise sir, you'll have to be seated now."
"I already know what I'm bidding on," Jack responded curtly.
The host gave him a raised eyebrow and a nasty smirk.
This was truly an impossible situation for Jack and his heart beat fast. He was actually in a real live slave market, ready to bid on Jeanne in order to save her, and he saw precious little alternative ways to save her here. He was very worried that if he made any mistakes of not buying her outright, he might never see her again if she fell into the hands of a new owner with less scruples than Karl-Heinz and Gunter. In his seat he said a prayer for it all to go well.
After all of this terrible situation was over and they could talk safely, he would ask her how it got to this situation and how Farnsworth figured into this.
Something in that prayer touched her and she felt Jack in her mind. It was the connection, but it seemed hopeless now. Wherever he was, he sure wasn't here. She scanned the crowd for a familiar face, but sighed in desperation. She had looked right past the scruffy man in the hooded tunic, because he unsettled her. She didn't want to be a desert nomad's slave.
"Please be here. Somewhere," she thought.
There was no response through the connection, and she despaired. It always worked during the highest times of stress for them.
Jack could see her now as her tent flaps were drawn completely back and she was escorted to the platform by the slave market handlers. He could see that Karl-Heinz and Gunter stayed in their tent. Margrite stayed behind also and was crying. Jeanne looked frightened out of her mind, but at least they had the decency to keep her clothed in her sexy red dress. She may have been the only pretty slave girl in the whole place that was decent.
This was a dirty, nasty business with absolutely no human dignity.
Jack steeled himself. He would not fail this time. He was finally in a position to do something about her situation actively and had the upper hand in surprise. He had a lot of money. But he also had his knife and his crossbow should it all go wrong. If he couldn't buy her, he was prepared to give his own life to save her from this fate.
She stiffened her lip and hesitated at the base of the stairs to the auction block. She was prodded by a handler, "Get up there girl. It's your turn."
An aide hung a handwritten cardboard slave sale card around her neck, and she looked down in despair. It was just an slave invoice number for her sale. Her number was 24601. It wasn't a new poster for the 'Lovely La' in her new showplace. Not even her name was on the card.
Over a dozen buyers assembled for her, but over 300 other spectators gathered to witness the sale of the olive skinned young woman in the red dress. It was a very big crowd, compared to the rest of the slave sales so far. Like her strip show, everyone wanted a good look at this beautiful slave.
There were murmurs from some that she and Jack could overhear, "Isn't she the famous stripper?"
From another spectator, "What did she do bad to be sold?"
"What happened to Lovely La?" asked yet another.
At 9 AM the hot sun was already bearing down on them.
Her handler waited a moment for the platform to clear, which was being vacated by an older true blonde woman in her early 30s. She was plumper than the others, and as could be seen from her droopy large breasts, stretch marks, and soft belly, she had borne children. Recently.
She screamed and cried as she was dragged away, "Please don't do this to me. I'm a wife and a mother! I have two children! They need me. Please let me go!"
Her hands bound tightly behind her after her sale for 1000 Pounds to a fat, blotchy-skinned and toothless brothel owner. He yanked her away cruelly on the chain. Jeanne shuddered, guessing her own similar fate. And she thought Farnsworth was horrible. Another handler stuffed a gag in the woman's mouth to shut her up. The owner threw a dirty canvas cover over her and headed for the market exit with his newest prostitute.
Another handler guided Jeanne up on the platform. She bit her lip in anxiety. Climbing the stairs with shackle bars on her ankles and her hands and arms bound was very hard. She had no balance and she stumbled, but the handler caught her. They positioned her to stand in the center of the auction block under the pole, hooked her neck rope to the metal ring above her and pulled hard enough she was nearly choked, forcing her to stand on tip toes. The bruises where she had been really choked earlier were very tender and she groaned. They laughed as she gasped for air, but they let a little slack out. She stood awkwardly.
She was not here to entertain. Jeanne was just a piece of meat to be bought.
The auctioneer introduced her only by her invoice, #24601, not by her name. Her real name and identity was irrelevant now. Her buyer could call her anything he wanted to, including just by her number. They'd even brand her if the owner wanted. Everything was ready for her sale and the bidding could begin. She was greeted by lurid cheers from the gallery and a lot of wolf whistles and hoots.
Jack sat in the bidders' gallery with his long hood hanging over and obscuring his face, and had his numbered fan ready to raise for each time he bid. He was claustrophobic, surrounded by smelly fellow bidders and by the small tents and shelters with slaves for sale in each one. He felt the armed men around him, but had planned an escape route. There were 100 slaves or more to be sold today and she was only the twelfth. This was a horrible filthy place that crushed people's souls. He knew that he must do something about this in the future to have it closed permanently. Maybe he couldn't save that middle aged mother who was just sold, but he could save many more this kind of fate.
But right now the only woman he needed to save was Jeanne Jacot. Slave #24601.
The bidding began. Jack did not want to attract undo attention and did not go first, and in fact waited for a number of bids to be placed. The first bid was 10 pounds. That was ridiculously paltry for so fine a beauty, and the crowd booed. They wanted to see a lively auction. With the change in leadership of the country from Germany to England, the bidding was all in English. He was grateful. His German was awful and might make an irrevocable mistake.
He didn't start the bidding but soon joined it, and was part of the group of about eight of the 12 or so who were active bidders. He didn't want to appear too eager and to attract too much attention.
After several rounds and counter offers by several bidders, Jeanne was getting pretty pricey. Her price was now over 500 Pounds.
A handsome Swahili brothel owner with the most interest in her grimaced, and demanded, "If I'm going to pay this kind of money for a new whore, strip her! Let's see the goods!"
Jack frowned under his hood. Karl-Heinz and Gunter nodded in agreement, smiled, and cheered with the rest of the gawkers. Margrite glared at them.
The auctioneer stopped for minute, and invited, "Any objections to this?"
The crowd roared. They all wanted to see her body. The auctioneer only wanted to hear from the bidders, and quieted the rabble, "Gentlemen?"
With a much disguised voice, Jack exclaimed, "No, not this woman. Give her her dignity. I just need her for domestic household help. I don't need to see her. She'll be a maid's uniform all the time."
But all the onlookers were here for the spectacle. They wanted to see her nude. All the others were stripped down before being sold. The crowd noise got more raucous, angry, and demanding. It made the auctioneer nervous.
"She's not a woman, she's property!" yelled the flesh merchant over the din of the crowd.
"I still say no," responded Jack, but he was alone in trying to protect her. The other bidders all wanted her stripped.
The auctioneer yelled to Jack, "Sorry sir. Bid and win and you can put clothes back on her."
Before he could yell his objections back the auctioneer, the slave master ascended to the platform. Her eyes were pleading, and she begged him, "No… please no."
"Sorry girl. The customers are always right," he said coldly.
The shackles prevented him from removing the dress so he took out his knife and just cut it off her. The dress would never be worn again and he kicked it into a trash fire where most of the slaves' belongings were disposed of after a sale. She cried out in humiliated anguish. The last vestige of her former life just went up in smoke.
"It might as well have been my soul," she lamented to herself.
There was a huge round of lascivious cheering and applause from the spectators seeing her unclad. A string of epithets and dirty insults were hurled at her about her dark skin.
Meriem was utterly humiliated and stared at the ground, shutting her eyes tightly to close the leering crowd out of her mind, biting back the tears, a crowd far different from the nights at the club. For as many times she'd stripped for hundreds of men totally nude and showed them everything seductively with no reservation, at least it had been a dance, and she could always escape into her private world imagining dancing only for Jack as she did the number. Standing here shackled Jeanne was totally alone in the world. Showing everything to the bidders and onlookers was the most degrading thing that ever happened to her in her life, and she wanted to crawl off and die. She cried silently, and Jack could see her shake and saw the trickle of tears. She had never felt more completely exposed. Jack wanted to simply just hold and comfort her. But he had to keep his anonymity to retain the upper hand and have a chance of rescuing her.
"Comforting Jeanne will come soon enough," he thought confidently.
The slave master took a really thorough stare at this very rare, healthy, relatively unblemished beautiful slave before he left the platform, and laughed, "Maybe your new owner will buy you a new red dress."
"It doesn't matter anyway," she chagrined to the slave master, "That part of my life is over forever…"
Jack was so angry at himself that he had not been brave enough or suspicious enough to do something last night in the burlesque owner's house to prevent Jeanne from this suffering all this. It would have been worth the risk to be shot to avoid her suffering this horrific situation. Things had ended too violently in Southwest Africa during the last rescue, and it had made him hesitate. He hoped she could forgive him for not preventing this ignominy.
The bidding restarted and with prospective customers being excited by the sight of this extraordinary nude woman, and the bidding got more vigorous.
"Oh dear Lord, please let me win this auction for Jeanne," he prayed silently.
No one really considered the scruffy man from some kind of Mediterranean culture to be a serious bidder. Karl-Heinz and Gunter were initially amused at the tunic-covered man's bids. This seemed like a penniless man that was just infatuated with her beauty. Better bidders would come along quickly. But they didn't. Most started to fall along the way, out of money.
In less than a minute the bid was more than 1000 Pounds, driven mostly by Jack who countered every bid now, and suddenly everyone in the slave market respected the hooded man. People stopped what they were doing and watched the bidding war over the woman, and casual conversations ended. The intensity of the bidding escalated and the mood was electric in the market. The bidding war was primarily between wealthiest brothel owner in town and the mysterious nomad, but several others, including a well-to-do elderly gentleman, put in bids, and were still keeping pace.
When her price exceeded 10,000 Pounds, the bidding game became very earnest, with Jack matching every bid methodically with no expression or emotion. He was machine-like in his cadence countering the other bidders. Jeanne glared at all the men, but she couldn't see into the shadowed visage of the man who calmly drove her sale price inexorably upward. He alone intrigued her in a positive way. He was the only who insisted on her modesty, and prayed that she'd at at least be his property at the end of this horrible situation as simply a housemaid he claimed he wanted. This man seemed to have some morals, but why he was at the slave market to buy a slave for help at home was inexplicable. Jeanne realized it could all be an act. Every man she'd ever met in this world of crime had some awful ulterior motive to exploit her in some way. She looked around for some a sign of kind of rescuer, preferably someone in French Army camouflage and a really big gun. She was alone and helpless. The scruffy desert nomad was her only chance.
"Oh Jack, where are you when I really need you?" she lamented in her mind, knowing the bidding must be near the end.
Karl-Heinz and Gunter never once put in a bid, even though as former owners they could. They were really done with her. Margrite was ringing her hands in anxiety over her surrogate daughter and was now totally helpless to do anything more to comfort her. She began to think about how and when to run away from him. She was completely finished with Karl-Heinz.
It went on nearly thirty more minutes. The crowd was totally hushed now, even the guards watched this spectacle unfold.
The bidding was now over 50,000 Pounds. The auctioneer knew the hooded bearded man was at 5 times his surety bond. But they gave him further credit. The young man was confident and knew what he was doing.
At 60 thousand, there was a hesitation and gulp from the elderly German gentleman who fancied winning this slave as his life's final companion. The elderly man bowed out. He couldn't spend his life savings on her.
Only two serious bidders were left - Jack and the brothel boss - who knew she'd bring a fortune to match whatever he had to spend. The whorehouse owner was still right in the fray. People would stand in line for a turn with this girl. The whoremonger kept bidding and insulted her, "You better be a good lay bitch. This is killing me."
The bids continued to creep up to 70… 80… 90… a 100 thousand... and not much longer until it reached 150 thousand… It was really tense between the pimp and Jack. An hour had passed. But Jack could see the brothel owner start to sweat. He would reach his limit soon. 180 thousand…. 190 thousand… 200 thousand Pounds Sterling…
Karl-Heinz and Gunter were stunned with the bidding. They figured maybe 5000 for her. Tops.
Jeanne stood absolutely still, simply listening to the bidding increase exponentially, with her eyes squeezed closed and her head bowed, praying for the Mediterranean-looking man to win. She also prayed he was a kind master and not some kind of pervert. She was very hot baking nude in the sun. The shackles were making her sweat and chafe. She would faint soon without some kind of water. And worse, if she fainted, she could choke to death in her collar and neck rope.
But something compelled Jeanne to open her eyes, look intently at Bidder #36, and mouth the words to him in silence, 'Sir. Please buy me now!'
Jack could read her lips. He looked up just slightly so she could see a bit of his face. His features were still shielded from Karl-Heinz and Gunter. Something about him seemed familiar.
Jack had enough, and he surged the bidding forward with one huge jump, "I bid 250,000 Pounds Sterling for Slave #24601."
He was explicit so they wouldn't be able to switch his bid for another slave. And he still had 200 thousand in reserve.
The auctioneer let out a slow whistle. Never had anyone in all of his career received such a huge bid for a slave at this market. A huge gasp emanated from the entire crowd and there were murmurings everywhere. The pimp groaned, and tossed his bidder's sign aside and threw his hands up in total disgust. Jack knew he had outbid him.
The auctioneer did what he had to do though, "Sir, do you wish to counter?"
The Swahili man complained, "Shit, no. I can't afford a piece that expensive. My whole business isn't worth as much as that one tramp."
The brothel owner examined his secondary choices on the upcoming bid card for 18-24 year old young females.
The auctioneer did his familiar refrain at bidding's end, but this time more enthusiastically than ever before, "Going once, going twice… Gone to the mysterious bearded man in the tunic for 250,000 Pounds Sterling!"
The auctioneer slammed his gavel down hard and a sharp crack was followed by an amazed cheer from the crowd with many hoots and hollers and whistles and thunderous applause. Jeanne remained as she was, utterly silent, still, head down like a true slave would, and withdrawn. A single tear ran down her cheek. Jeanne was completely stunned. This was even more shocking than the 2 million offered by Farnsworth for her favors.
"Who would pay that for me? No one has that kind of money," she puzzled in complete astonishment.
She was very worried that Farnsworth might indeed try, but that man, whoever he was, was not Farnsworth. She saw him stand up. He was big and strong and very tall, unusual for a Middle East man. And then she held her breath with a possible realization.
No matter who the mystery man was, she was now his property, and God knows what that meant for her future.
Karl-Heinz and Gunter jumped up and down in excitement, slapped their hands together, and back-slapped each other. Her sale could not have gone better and they were ecstatic. That enormous sum paid for Meriem would keep them fed and sheltered for months, but when he turned to Margrite to pick her up and kiss her, she pushed him away and slapped him hard enough to draw blood.
"I hate you. Leave me alone," she screamed. The anger in her eyes was fierce. She looked for a quick exit.
He'd deal with her later, but right now he wanted to go meet this amazingly rich man who wanted Meriem so badly for some unknown purpose, and shake his hand.
Jack stood and demanded of the slave master instantly as he made his way to the cashier, "Number 24601 is mine. Put clothes on her now, and take off those ropes and chains."
The entire slave market was abuzz with chatter and gossip and innuendo about the sale, even the slaves on the docket themselves. No one ever had been sold for a sum like that in Africa in over a century. They had all witnessed a once in a lifetime slave auction.
'Would this man be good for the money?' was the murmuring question on everyone's minds. If this was all a ruse, he'd likely be beaten up or shot, or even taken as a slave himself, and then the bidding for her would start over. The auctioneer/owner prepared for all eventualities. This could be a very entertaining and profitable day for him.
Jack stood before the cashier as the slave master removed her rope from the ring. Jack took from his hidden stash much of the gleaming wad of gold and jewels he had stored there, and slammed it down in front of the cashier's table.
Jack snapped at the vile-smelling cashier, "I'd say we're even, Mister."
The money man counted the stack of currency on the table, and carefully examined all the gold and jewels. Everything was authentic. Gold and jewels and silver were just as good as money here. Jack already made sure of that.
"Uh sir, I think this is more than enough," the auctioneer said sheepishly.
"Keep the change. She's worth it to me," Jack stated.
Jeanne finally was brave enough to glance at her buyer, hearing his compliment. He sounded sincere and not obscene. She still couldn't see the man's face. Just part of black beard. The man appeared to be very strong. She braced herself to try to be as defiant as possible, and prepared for her final battle to be free, but it looked like escaping her new owner would be useless.
Meriem steeled herself to be turned over to the hooded man, but out of sight of them at the most opportune moment would claw the man's eyes out and finally escape no matter what the cost. Even if death was the only escape. This man had just wasted a fortune, but at least maybe her captors would feel like the debt was finally paid off with her sale. She had been within 100,000 of the 14 million Deutschmarks to be free if she had just accepted sleeping the one time with Farnsworth. She thought how ugly that joke was now.
The slave master handed the new owner the bill of sale, her collar rope, symbolic of his ownership of the young woman now. Jack felt ashamed to be holding a slave rope and looked at her directly.
"You're mine, #24601. You're safe now," he said kindly.
Jeanne averted her eyes, not believing his words. He held the rope loosely, and did not pull like the others did their new property.
Jack was angrily insistent, "Take the shackles off, slave master. Right now. And get her some clothes, dammit!"
"But sir, that will interfere with the next bid. And… uh… about the clothes. I'm sorry but that's your responsibility. We don't have clothes for the slaves. Owners are supposed to do that, assuming they want to."
Jack was livid, "I paid a quarter million Pounds for #24601. I own this whole damn place today. Take the shackles off right now!"
The auctioneer didn't want to incur the wrath of this very powerful-looking man and directed the slave master to do whatever this man said.
"Yes sir, right away sir."
There was definitely something familiar in that man's voice now. Jeanne returned his gaze. This close, she could make a few more details out of his very heavily bearded face and met his eyes. Those eyes were as green as green could be and one winked at her. Her heart skipped a beat. She instantly looked at his sandaled feet. They were not a normal man's feet. They were prehensile. She gasped. A flood of joyful emotions slammed her mind hard and she nearly fell over. They were connected, more intensely than ever before, not three feet away from each other. He smiled at her. She knew he felt it too.
As Jack turned to have the slave master unlock her bonds, a strong gust of ocean wind flipped his hood off. Jeanne's eyes just about bugged out of her head, and she started to faint. Despite having his hair and beard dyed black, she already knew who it was.
"Jack!" she shouted loudly with a huge smile of relief, realizing she shouldn't have said a word.
Karl-Heinz was still some distance way from the man who just purchased Jeanne, he recognized Jack as soon as Jeanne shouted, and he exclaimed, "Scheisse!" It's the Count's kid!"
Gunther shouted in German to the auctioneer, "No! Don't sell her to him. Stop him now. He's a murderer!"
Margrite was utterly shocked, but shouted as loud as she could, not caring what Karl-Heinz thought, "Save her, Jack!"
Both kidnappers took off a dead run to take down the Viscount. They drew their weapons. The guards and auctioneer were in complete confusion.
Jack had no time to waste. Her neck rope was the only restraint removed. Jack acted instantly before the auctioneer and guards could do anything. Despite her arm and leg irons, Jack threw his outer tunic around her naked body, and scooped helpless Jeanne into his arms. He was as fast as an animal, it startled her, and she yelped at being snatched and his unbelievable strength and ease of taking her.
But Jeanne was ecstatic at this shocking surprise, "I'm in his arms now. He bought me. Nothing else matters."
She could see his mind race in making their escape. She didn't say a word so as to not distract him. The time to get reacquainted would come later.
He had to create chaos immediately to prevent their death or capture. He kicked the money table high into the air, clocking the auctioneer and cashier underneath their chins, breaking their jaws and teeth and knocking them out instantly. He pulled his huge knife and cut through the table end to end with one slice, smashing it into pieces and splinters with the force of his knife slice and a kick. His actions wildly spread all the gold, jewels and 100's of money bills high into the air and all over the courtyard. He took out two guards next to the auctioneer and cashier with kicks directly to their throats and faces. All of this happened in a blink of an eye.
Seeing the fountain of money and jewels, the audience and the other poorly paid guards went wild and jumped all over each to get some of the quarter million in slave bounty for themselves, shouting, swearing, beating and tearing at each other for the money. It was a greedy frenzy. People screamed and yelled and gunfire broke out from some of the guards fighting against themselves and from Karl-Heinz and Gunter in random directions. Some people were shot and dropped. A large number of slaves bolted for the now unguarded gates, some still in chains and mostly unclad, but they got away.
The ensuing riot Jack caused drew the attention of the local Bobbies patrolling outside to make sure things remained orderly and low key here. They knew what happened on the other side of the wall, but were paid by their leadership to look the other way, as long as it was quiet. And it was normally always quiet. But today it was anything but quiet. The police Sargent ordered his officers to act on behalf of all the helpless people they knew were being traded and sold behind the wall.
Only Karl-Heinz and Gunter ignored the money flying everywhere. He yelled to Margrite, "Leave now, Margrite. Go to the flat! We're going to stop them."
Margrite pleaded for it all to end here, "No, don't, Karl-Heinz! Stop this obsession. Let the lovers go. It's over. I just want a life with you and our baby."
He stuttered, "A baby? Damn. The baby will have to wait, Margrite. It's not over 'til I'm standing on their bodies."
Margrite was profoundly disappointed with his reaction to her desperate surprise to make him stop, but even though she had vowed to leave him, she still loved him despite all the awful things of the things in the past 8 hours. She feared she'd never see her husband again, so she followed a safe distance behind, even as angry as he was and how horrible he had treated her.
The huge number of people in the way prevented a Karl-Heinz and Gunter a clean shot at Jack and Jeanne or the guards to follow. They clawed and shoved their way through the throng.
Karl-Heinz shouted constantly as he battled the mob, "Move you idiot. Get out of my way. Stand aside!"
Jack left the only way that was not heavily guarded or blocked by the chaotic crowd. He sheathed his knife and ran at full speed straight ahead and over the auction block and toward the perimeter wall.
"Jack, what are you doing? There's no way out," Jeanne shouted.
"Hang on tight, cherie. Trust me," he advised, with his gaze set straight ahead and jaw set.
He ran up some stacked packing crates with her firmly gripped in his arms and literally leaped the final 10 feet with her over one of the high gates with ease, cleared the top of the wall, and dropped into the even more huge mass of humanity in the streets so busy at this part of the day. Jeanne was still firmly gripped in his powerful arms. He never lost his balance and his grasp on Jeanne never wavered. She was about two thirds the weight of the training sand bags because of the heavy shackles and chains, but she was a lot more cooperative to hold.
A newspaper photographer on the streets covering another event was startled, but snapped a picture of a bearded robed man leaping over the wall, landing sure-footed on the street, and racing away through the crowds with a beautiful young woman in heavy chains and shackles. The cameraman caught her smiling at her liberator and wearing a tunic loosely around her in what was clearly an escape from the slave market. The frenzied slave market crowd grabbed and clawed for the money in the backdrop of the photo, spilling out into the streets. That photo, the cameraman knew, was what Pulitzer Prizes were made of.
Karl-Heinz and Gunter couldn't leap over the wall like Jack did so they forced their way to the emergency exit out of the slave market on to the city street. The two men desperately tried to keep in pursuit of Jack and Jeanne. The flailing of the Viscount's black-dyed dreads and weight of the much-heavier shackled Jeanne in his arms slowed him just enough that the kidnappers could keep pace. It was too crowded to shoot, and the younger man tripped and stumbled and groaned.
He yelled to Gunter, "Keep going. Get them. I'll catch up."
Karl-Heinz, despite the pain, dragged himself to his feet and continued the pursuit. Further behind, Margrite escaped the slave market, now crawling with Bobbies whistling and arresting scores of people and their reinforcements poured into the slave market, knocking over tents, and breaking shackles and letting the captives run or seek police protection. Police sharpshooters took out the slave market gun nests above. This was the slave liberation day that all the honest and compassionate officers secretly wanted for years. Now they had an excuse with the violent altercation. Their well-bribed superiors couldn't stop them now. This place would only be a bad memory by noon.
One officer, who'd been tailing the last sale of the thirtysomething woman slave, pulled a gun on the disgusting slave owner roaming the area shopping for other things in the general market area with the middle aged mother still tied up. The officer freed her and smashed the man's face into the pavement and cuffed him for human trafficking. The woman clung to the officer completely in grateful tears. The officer had no intention of letting the young mother be captured again and put his vest jacket around her for modesty. He would not rest until he reunited the woman with her family.
Jack raced down the crowded streets of Dar es Salaam. In German Jeanne asked, not even thinking to ask in French, having rarely used it in nearly eight years, with a wide grateful smile and a kiss to his cheek, "Bless you Jack! So… you're my new owner! You saved me, liebchen. How did you find me?"
His German was pretty limited, and his accent was awful, but he knew 'liebchen' meant 'sweetheart', so he just said, "Let's chat later, Jeanne, we're not safe yet. But it is good to see you cherie."
She just snuggled closer to him with a bigger smile, and thought, "Jeanne…. He called me Jeanne. My… name… is… Jeanne. Jeanne Marie Jacot…" and then she allowed herself the next step of the dream that almost never was, "…Jeanne Marie Jacot Clayton."
It had been years since she heard her real name.
"You too, liebchen," she said softly.
She'd called him sweetheart twice in less than a minute. He had hope.
They raced through the streets of Dar es Salaam with Gunter and some of the slave market guards in hot pursuit.
"There!" Jack shouted.
Ahead there was one of the main gates to the city. It was the only way to the jungle to the west. There was no way they would be able to go to the ship docks and find Clayton Shipping and refuge there. Not with Farnsworth in charge. He couldn't trust that man now. Jack raced with Jeanne out of the city and into the beginnings of the jungle. Jack would have the upper hand in this environment. And he fully expected a couple of more big surprises would be waiting there for him that would give him a further advantage against armed kidnappers. All he had to do is call them.
Finally there was some cover. Somewhere to hide. Somewhere to take a stand that the two of them might just live through.
Jack took a bad turn, and ran down a worn jungle trail that was not the trail he should have been on, and didn't realize they were heading into a box canyon with very sheer walls and no vines to climb to the ledge far above. At risk of discovery he called out his jungle yell to call attention to his hidden and waiting animal family.
Gunter reached the turn himself awhile later, with several armed guards. They heard a weird call that did sound human.
"This way!" he yelled.
Five on two who had no guns would be a cinch. What Gunter and the guards didn't see is that one by one the guards disappeared behind him without a sound.
A little while later, Gunter turned around to make some plans with the guards to surround and close in on the young pair.
He turned around to nothing, and called out to them, "Guys?" wondering what had happened. There was no reply. He stomped his feet and yelled, "Scheisse!"
He took a deep breath, but approached the Viscount and his girl more cautiously. One-on-one against the boy with his single hand gun was still good odds, and there was no sign of Karl-Heinz, so Gunter decided to press on with killing them himself.
Jack and Jeanne were forced to stop with their backs literally up against the high stone cliffs, and heard labored breathing not far behind them.
In French, he said sarcastically, "I'm sorry, Jeanne, sweetheart. It looks like this is our last stand. Some reunion, huh?"
Jack tried to direct her to go crouch behind some bushes and some palms, still shackled, but she knew that would not provide any protection from Karl-Heinz' and Gunter's guns. With the shackles she could barely stand, much less run and hide. So she chose to stand with her boyfriend.
She said with complete gratitude, in very rusty French, "Well, at least this is a reunion. Thank you dearest. I would rather die than become a sex slave the rest of my life."
He put his arm around her and reassured her, "And I'd rather die saving you from that fate than letting you ever become one."
They kissed each other quickly as best they could for the first time since they were 13. There was that same electricity between them. They were both delighted that the spark of love was still there.
Jack could see one of her kidnappers approaching now and gritted through his teeth, "Well it's been nice knowing you."
Despite his heft, Gunter was in much better shape than Karl-Heinz because he did a lot more physical labor despite his bad back, and he had left his lifelong boss behind to recover from his injury.
Jeanne deadpanned, "At least I can die happy and free, Jack. We'll catch up in heaven. I hear it's a lot more peaceful there."
Gunter caught a glimpse of them ahead and so that they were trapped, and shouted at them, "I have you now."
"Yeah Gunter. You're right where I want you," Jack said to throw him off. Jack knew this was the dull-witted one of the criminal pair. He brandished his crossbow.
"That's new," she observed.
"There's a good story to go with it," he grinned.
Jack and Gunter both took up offensive stances against each other, and Jeanne tried her best to duck behind Jack. The elderly German thug took aim with his gun.
Gunter held the gun in his left hand.
"He's right handed Jack. He'll be less accurate," she whispered in remembered Mangani.
Gunter had damaged his favored hand in the melee fleeing the slave market, and responded, "Can't you ever just shut up, Meriem?"
The kidnapper realized far too late that Jeanne had just spoken the undecipherable jungle language he'd seen so many years over radiotelegraph in Kamina. It was the wild child's tongue. Jack knew he had a sliver of an advantage. But there didn't seem to be any options left.
Gunter taunted his adversary just beyond the crossbow's range, and the handgun's, "Just so you know Jack, I'm going to kill you first, and after eight years of watching and waiting, I'm going to have my way with her before I kill her too. Convenient that she's in shackles. It will be more fun that way."
That made Jack snap emotionally. He dropped the crossbow and roared like a great jungle beast and was about to take a fatal charge at Gunter just with his knife, which was just what Gunter wanted. The older man took aim and would wait till the boy got close enough for the perfect killing shot.
Then the one option Jack never could have imagined happened right in front of them.
The giant gorilla Akut leaped from the tree limbs with full force and smashed his massive body down upon Gunter's shoulders and back, flattening him face down into the ground, snapping several bones in his neck, shoulders, and his spine. The German criminal yelled in pain. His neck was broken and he was instantly paralyzed. Gunter was now helpless to prevent Akut from ripping into him with a terrifying chest beating roar.
Akut tore Gunter apart limb by limb, tossing both of the paralyzed man's arms and a leg viciously aside, and used Gunter's one remaining severed leg to batter him to a pulp. The snaps and body-ripping sounds were gut-wrenching to Jack and Jeanne, as Gunter witnessed his own dismemberment alive. The doomed man screamed at the top of his lungs in unrelenting pain and anguish.
But he wasn't dead yet. So Akut reached down, grabbed the sides of Gunter's head while standing on his shoulders, strained and pulled with all his might, and with a horrible tearing and popping sound, separated Gunter's head from its shoulders, raised the spasming head high above his own, roared his loudest, and hurled the head toward the rocks of the box canyon with all his might. Jack could swear that with Gunter's last moments his eyes got bigger and bigger and saw the impact coming in a silent airless scream. The kidnapper's head splattered like a grape on the rocks, leaving a horrible red dripping stain.
Jeanne screamed and wretched at the horrific sight, "Oh my… dear… God…"
But it wasn't over. They heard Karl-Heinz limping up the trail, having tripped over some of the frantic crowds at the slave market and sprained his ankle. He shuddered seeing partially eaten slave market guards now littering the trail as he approached.
Jeanne was shaking badly, and she stared at Jack, who obviously knew this huge and powerful elderly silver gray ape. This was not Kala or any other Mangani she had ever met. He was truly ferocious and utterly without mercy or regard for the human life he just destroyed.
She hated Gunter with every fiber of her soul, and had always wished a violent end for him, but she never imagined the horror that she just witnessed. It was truly gruesome. She was amazed that Jack was steeled for it, looked past Gunter's death, and looked to continue the fight without blinking. Jack was courageous beyond Jeanne's words to describe it, but his coldness in the face of witnessing a grisly death – even the death of one of her long-hated kidnappers – made her take pause. 'Korak the Killer' flashed in her mind.
Jack gave the great ape a simian bow without going down on all fours or letting go of his crossbow, "My gratitude, Uncle Akut. Now it is my turn to finish this."
"As you wish, Grandnephew. But I'm here if you need me."
Akut leaped effortlessly up into the limbs like there was no gravity and disappeared like he had never been there. But the mess the remains of Gunter oozed on the ground. He barely looked human anymore.
"Grandnephew? Uncle?" Jeanne asked Jack, still shaking from the horrible bloody end of Gunter that was more satisfying now to her after the initial shock.
"I'll tell you Later, cherie. It's a long story. A ten month long story. And there is more to it yet to be seen. Just be prepared. And no I didn't expect Akut to kill Gunter," he noted and she instantly understood why it took so long to get to Dar es Salaam. Jack had obviously met Akut in the central jungle.
Karl-Heinz tried to hide as he made a slow approach. Not only did he see the dead guards, he caught a glimpse of the bloody mess that was Gunter, and was tipped off only by what was left of his right arm which had been thrown far down the trail with the sleeve still attached. He was forced to walk by another piece of Gunter - one of his shoes, with a foot and shin bone still in it.
Karl-Heinz gulped, and pulled short, looking all around him, and thought fearfully, "How could the Count's son cause such a bloody demise for Gunter? And the guards. Their parts are everywhere."
The boy wasn't any older than Jeanne but obviously had acquired the strength of a many men in his late teen years. The Viscount was tall and very muscular but Gunter was also a massive man. He could see the boy only had a knife and crossbow. Karl-Heinz gulped. The boy did all this with just that. He had no idea how that could defeat an accomplished gunman. But no matter how good the Viscount's knife skills were against Gunter, Karl-Heinz would not repeat Gunter's underestimation of the jungle boy's brutal power. It was too late now but he suddenly wished he'd killed the boy when he was 9 lying helpless in Kamina.
The kidnapper cocked his handgun. He might never get another shot before suffering a similar fate. A bullet in the Viscount's brain on the first shot was the only way. He'd deal with Meriem later. Maybe he could still resell her if he reconsidered his plan to assault her and kill her afterwards.
Karl-Heinz suddenly screamed. Three unseen leopards roared around him simultaneously and swiped with their viciously sharp and powerful claws. It flushed him to the open trail face to face with Jack. One leg was partially shredded and was in fiery pain.
Jeanne shouted, "Omigod Jack! Leopards! Be careful."
"It's OK, they're family," he smiled.
"Family? But you told me leopards and apes are never friends," she asked in shock.
"Yet another long story for the way back," he smirked.
She continued to be stunned by one surprise after another. It was shock enough to see a gorilla here in the east, especially one so old and yet strong and massive. Plus the leopards he just now claimed as family. Now she knew why it took a year for Jack to get here. This was going to be quite a journey back, and she dared dream a moment of all the time she wanted to spend in his arms hearing every moment of the stories. She was beginning to believe there actually was a way back now.
She didn't understand Jack's leopard language conversation, but it was clear they acted like a family. She could tell the female was fond of Jack as she rubbed her face against his leg and purred. The image of a giant house cat formed in her head but she stifled the laugh.
Nearby and ready for more action, Mykelti growled out, "Dad? Can I gut this one, please?"
Jack answered, to Jeanne's amazement, "No Mykelti, this is my fight, son, but thanks for the offer."
The adolescent male leopard complained, "Mom, Dad never lets me have any fun."
The girls and Tikara snickered in their own feline way.
"Maybe he'll let you have the scraps, dear," Tikara licked her son's ear and he resisted like any teenage boy would with too much motherly affection.
Leopards weren't carrion eaters, but this evil one who had captured Korak's mate would be worth eating. They all knew how much Korak hated this outlander who separated him from his mate. They could smell it thickly from him. Tikara smelled the spoor of the other kidnapper and the guards they had taken down effortlessly and had to admit she was impressed and frightened by Akut's display of raw gorilla power.
Jack's leopard family pulled back from the line of fire and Jack stood face to face with the kidnapper.
"Jack no!" Jeanne screamed. Jack meowed a command.
Instantly the leopards circled Karl-Heinz as a distraction and he had to watch them and the Viscount all at the same time somehow. Karl-Heinz was shocked that Jack controlled all these wild animals.
"So much for the first shot advantage," he thought sarcastically.
He aimed for the leopards but realized he could not kill one before the other two took him down. It would be a bloody end. That is probably what happened to Gunter. He gulped. He got a really good look at his old friend. All that remained were small pieces and part of his lower torso.
Jack noticed the attention the criminal was giving Tikara's family, and to protect them he said, "Karl-Heinz, you have no fight with hem. It's with me, kidnapper."
"Oh? You think so, Viscount? Crossbow vs gun? Gun wins," he scoffed.
"It's a Pyrrhic victory, kidnapper. If you take me down, the leopards will take you instantly."
"I can get you and her before they get me. It will be truly worth it. You both have ruined everything for me since Kamina. It doesn't matter anymore whether I live or die. As long as I get the two of you."
Jack's crossbow was aimed at Karl-Heinz' midsection. It looked like a toy to the middle-aged man.
Jack warned, "Care to find out, Karl-Heinz? We're a long way from Kamina. I'm not nine anymore."
He sneered, "Boy, you have meddled once too often in affairs not your own. You and Jeanne should have never come to Togoland. You'd both be playing house in a jungle hut somewhere now with a dozen babies."
That hurt both of them, because it was true. Life was completely different than they had planned it as children who had fully intended to grow up in the jungle and France and Scotland together.
Jack choked out the words, "I wish to God that that been the case, but because of you, it never was. I have every reason to set things right. It's not just my girl's life you've ruined for over eight years. You ruined mine too. You kidnapped me with her, whether you know it or not."
Jeanne was astonished to realize how the kidnapping had severely affected Jack, and admired Jack's gallant defense of her. She clutched him tighter without disturbing his shot. He was all man now. Her man. He was Korak.
Karl-Heinz chuckled, "Well ain't that just too bad. You should have forgotten her and taken one of your British noblewomen instead."
That hurt far too much in a conversation yet to be had.
Jack kept looking for a shot advantage, so he kept Karl-Heinz talking.
"No woman is better in the entire world for me world than my Jeanne," he exclaimed using her real name, calling her 'his' and she blushed deeply.
Karl-Heinz boasted luridly and tried to play with his mind, "Not when you find out what we did to her and what's she's capable of. Especially what's she's done when you didn't see her do it. She's all Meriem now, boy. Jeanne's lost forever."
That made Jack extremely angry, but he held it in check this time, "I will kill you for what you did to her. In the jungle I am called Korak – the Killer. Now I will show you why."
Jack raised the crossbow higher and peered down the sight.
Karl-Heinz laughed, "If you think you can outshoot me with that ancient weapon, more power to you. If you kill me boy - which you won't - then you are no better than the rest of us. You'll be a murderer. The law will come after you too."
"We are not in the city. There is no law here but the law of the jungle, in the land of the animals and Swahili my brothers, not the English or even the Germans. And here that law is on my side. I am only protecting my chosen mate."
He motioned to the bloody pieces of Gunter's body.
Despite being frightened, Jeanne was ecstatic hearing Jack claim her as his mate.
"Answer my question: Did you and Gunter ever have relations with Jeanne?"
Karl-Heinz boasted in a way to goad Jack to do something rash, "No, regrettably. But he and I sure thought about it every night and we saw every strip show of hers, boy. Over eight years we saw plenty."
Jeanne's kidnapper got a terrible grin and laughed derisively. His head bent back with the cackle and his eyes involuntarily closed for an instant. That was enough. Karl-Heinz instantly knew he had made a fatal mistake.
Jack launched two shots into Karl-Heinz' groin. Jeanne flinched. The man gasped and bent over in excruciating pain, looked down to his crotch and saw nothing but blood spurting where his balls should have been and heard two thunks behind him where the bolts stopped in a tree. Each of Karl-Heinz' testicles were skewered and severed by a bolt and quivered in a tree trunk behind him.
Jeanne threw up again. He had no idea Jack could be so violent, even if her kidnappers were getting everything they deserved. She'd done a lot of awful things but she had never killed, and never so… coldly methodical. She knew that Jack had trained for this moment. Like one of her dad's Special Forces snipers.
Karl-Heinz, with a tortuous look of terrible pain, turned around toward Jack and Jeanne, let loose a guttural cry of pain, and tried to raise his gun and fire at Jack. He was unsteady and missed with two shots.
Karl-Heinz looked up in absolute horror as Jack let go two more shots. Both embedded into the kidnapper's heart. One bolt penetrated all the way through to his shoulder blade, shattering it, which staggered him backward a couple of steps. He screamed again and his eyes flew open. He started to waiver and buckle. Blood gushed from his chest in every direction. He dropped his gun and clutched his twin wounds. His face blanched from the sudden blood loss, and he fell to his knees.
He roared in pain, and tried to rip out the bolts. They were not going anywhere. They were barbed. They were designed to elicit the maximum amount of internal damage to a human body, and if pulled out, do twice as much damage.
Karl-Heinz was seconds from death, and Jeanne was ashamed to admit that she was relishing every second of this brutal execution. That was the only way to describe it. Jack stood calmly, letting the man suffer, "Goodbye, Karl-Heinz. Thanks for all the target practice. Now you will never see anything again. Except in hell."
The man could do nothing in response to Jack but gurgle as blood filled his lungs.
Jack squeezed off a final two bolt spread – one into each eye - that came out the back of his skull with full force, taking brains with the bolts.
Propelled by the power of the momentum of the bolts, Karl-Heinz fell backward and dropped on his back with a squishing thud. He was dead before he hit. The fletching of bolts in his heart stuck out through his front, driven backward with the weight of his own body. The barbs were covered in heart muscle and pieces of his lungs.
Jack stood triumphantly over his kill and let his arm drop, still holding the crossbow.
Jeanne buried her head into Jack's chest. He embraced her. Cradled in the saving arms of the man she longed to hold her for over half her life, Jeanne cried as if she would never cry again, shedding buckets of tears on Jack's tunic. Her body was racked in great heaving sobs that echoed in the edge of the jungle around them and the rocks behind them. Her lifetime of continuous nightmares was finally over.
It took quiet some time for her to regain the ability to talk, and she gasped in total relief, "Oh... my... God... Jack. You did it… I only belong to you, now."
"And I to you, dear." Jack smiled at her warmly for a moment, but he was still focused on the final retribution against Jeanne's kidnappers.
"For the record, Karl-Heinz," he said to the dead man, "Gun vs. crossbow. Crossbow wins."
With Jeanne close beside him, Jack was spent, but he spoke to his animal companions.
"Thanks, Tikara for the diversion. You could not have come at a better time."
"My pleasure, dear Korak."
"Come here, Mykelti," Jack smiled mischievously at his leopard son. Jeanne could see the affection between them. It was cute, actually.
"Yes Dad?" the boy leopard asked anxiously, leaping up and down in front of Jack, ready to do anything his father asked. His tail curled in anticipation almost like a puppy's.
Jack gestured and nodded, "See that man over there?"
The young leopard knew what was coming, knew the significance of this awful human, and was ecstatic, prancing around like a house cat on a catnip 'high', "Yes, Dad?"
Jack uttered with deep conviction, "Gut him…"
His adopted leopard son leaped instantly gleefully and tore into the freshly dead corpse of Karl-Heinz with extreme gusto.
"I'm not sharing!" the young male leopard said in delighted warning to his mother and sisters, coming up for air from Karl-Heinz's freshly opened abdomen cavity only a moment to get his breath. The young leopard's face was covered in blood and gore, and ripped loose a big hunk of Karl-Heinz' liver, taking care to not come near the crossbow bolts still in his heart.
His mother cautioned, "Take care that you do not like human flesh so much son."
"No worries Mom. I'm just doing this for Dad! Besides, he needs salt…"
Jeanne found herself unashamedly drawn to enjoying the leopard consuming Karl-Heinz' innards - clearly on Jack's orders - with great relish and satisfaction and being grateful to Jack for ending him in the vindictive way he deserved.
Jack went over nonchalantly and pulled the bolts from the man and the tree, shook the human tissue off, and sheathed them.
Jack looked up into the trees where he knew Akut was secretly perched, "Great Uncle, I am indebted to you as well. Jeanne and I both thank you."
Despite her shackles, Jeanne chimed in using the protocols of new acquaintances in a troop by doing her best to drop to a subservient female knuckle stance, "Yes Silverback Akut, you saved us from certain death. I am indebted to you as Korak's uncle."
Akut was truly impressed with Jack's mate's Mangani manners and language skills. After an unbelievably long absence from being with any Mangani or speaking the words.
"You honor me, mate of Korak. What is family for, after all?" but he thought, "Neither of you know how indebted you actually are."
Jack instructed in easily-understood Mangani that he'd taught the leopards on their journey here together, "Please, everyone, go home ahead of us. Jeanne and I will come visit you in your lands. We want to go the long way back."
Both leopard and ape families agreed.
"We human mates need time alone," he said tenderly with Jeanne, trying to set the stage before a painful conversation.
With a look of total appreciation, Jeanne tried her best to embrace him closer while still bound in her chains and shackles, and clutched him tightly as she could encumbered in the metal bonds, looking him adoringly straight in the eye, "Oh dear God Jack. It's over."
She nearly collapsed and fainted. Tears of relief streamed town her cheeks. Jack supported her. But she had many questions for her boyfriend.
"Uncle? Leopard family?" Jeanne asked, still looking up into his eyes, grateful but shocked at all these new things about him. But she really did like looking up into his eyes. He was delightfully tall.
"There is a lot to explain, cherie."
He held her around her waist for better support, but he urgently warned, "We need to go now, Jeanne. Soon, the carrion eaters will have 'the fever' and they will not be able to tell the living from the dead. We aren't safe."
"Whatever you say dearest," she said softly.
Both could see scavengers circle and swoop in on branches and see others' eyes in the underbrush. The stench of death and sickly sweet odor of five bodies full of fresh blood pervaded the area.
Jeanne suddenly remembered, "Jack. My knife. My glasses. They're on Gunter. I need them. I won't even recognize you - my eyes are so bad without those glasses."
Jack stepped forward and addressed all the scavengers, "Get away, my friends. Part your way for me."
The alpha of the hyena pack and one of the buzzards warned,"For only a moment ape man. We hunger."
"It's OK, I will be quick."
He dared to go over and reached into Gunter's back pocket. He retrieved her knife and glasses, and tucked it into her tunic cover's pocket. Miraculously her glasses were bent but not smashed.
"Thank you Jack! I can't see a thing without those glasses. And I've had the knife since Douala. I don't want to lose it. It's saved me more than once. But not today."
"Oh?"
She beamed a broad smile at him, "Because today, Jack, sweetheart, you did!"
His name uttered in respect from her was long-overdue music to his ears. She snuggled into his arms as he prepared to carry her off safely.
"Bon appetite my friends," Jack said in French to the scavengers, mostly for Jeanne's amusement. All of them were already in the feeding frenzy, and didn't hear him, or care. He held her tighter and grabbed a vine and left.
Margrite had followed the two men out of town, and even given her extreme anger at them, she still cared for Karl-Heinz despite herself. She crouched unseen by Jack and Jeanne behind a huge rock. She had seen everything at the end. She was shaking uncontrollably and was in absolute fear of Jack Clayton. Korak the Killer. He coldly executed both men. They never really had a chance against him. The animals obeyed every word he said in their languages. The sight and sound of the final battle would never leave her. Jack was really not human, and wondered how 'Meriem' could possibly love a cold-blooded murderer. She tried to rush to her husband's blood-soaked body, but two wild dogs stood in her way, barking ferociously on their way to get some piece of the two men's remains. She threw rocks to scare them away.
For only a moment she fell on her knees far short of his body and sobbed, "Oh, Karl-Heinz, look what you have done to yourself by all this… this obsession. What did I beg you not to do? What did it get you? What did it get us? What will I tell our baby?"
Hyenas started to circle her and snapped at her too.
She drew back, but recovered his gun, and ran back toward town and prayed she could some day shut this horrible scene of her husband's gruesome death from her mind. She was forced to leave his remains to the animals.
As awful as she felt for Karl-Heinz, her lover and husband and father of her coming child, she could only feel happiness for young Jeanne and that the frightening eight-plus year ordeal was over for her. The girl she had known as 'Meriem' was literally in the arms of the man she had never stopped loving. Margrite had no desire for revenge against Karl-Heinz' murderer. He deserved what he got. But she needed closure.
"God bless you and him, dear daughter Meriem. Goodbye. I'm I'm sorry for everything. Especially for being so weak, and never being brave enough to help you escape."
…
A little further away from the grim death scene back on the correct trail to the mountains and jungle beyond, Jack alighted and stated, "I think we're safe here."
Jeanne stood still wrapped loosely in his tunic with nothing underneath, but it didn't bother her a bit being around him that way. He matched her in his tunic. They could have been a Bedouin couple. She tried to reach for him to hug him, but was still restrained by her chains and shackles. She was bleeding from some of them.
Jack laughed and Jeanne giggled. It was her giggle, at a lower young adult tone, but it was definitely her giggle.
Jack offered humorously to break the tense mood, "Hmmm. Let's see what I can do about that. Unless you want to still be chained for me too? You are after all my slave, and I hear that you are always a flight risk. Besides, now I can tell you what to do and you have to do it."
She gave him a teasing look, and joked, "Jack, I'm the one that supposed to have the perverted criminal mind. And I may be your slave girl, but don't push your luck on telling me what to do, jungle boy. They sold me for not obeying."
They laughed again, and Jack admitted, "I think you bought me, to be honest Jeanne."
She pecked his nose with difficulty, "You're still cute, cheri."
He pulled out his knife and showed her what he was going to do to remove her shackles, "First things first."
The leather collar was sliced easily. She rubbed her neck in relief from the hot leather, grabbed it and hurled it into the woods.
"I can't believe some people like wearing these," she mentioned, thinking of her former dancer friends and their choker necklaces, "Never again for me, Jack."
He sized up the shackles, "Metal? Hmm… Give me your hands, please, Jeanne."
He tried to not look at her bare body underneath the tunic. She would have just as soon as dropped the hot tunic and just let him enjoy her, but she was in his world now and fully intended to play by his rules for as long has he said so. He was a gentleman, and she would act like a noblewoman.
"Old iron vs. high carbon steel. Steel wins. Tell me if this hurts as I pry it open," he smiled brandishing the huge blade.
"OK, dear," she smiled back. She felt like a little girl again savoring every nice thing her boyfriend would do for her.
He stuck the blade into the joints of the restraint on one of her hands, and twisted the blade like shucking oysters. After some work, the shackles popped open, and the parts fell to the ground. He did the other side too.
She smiled and rubbed her wrists, one of which was bleeding.
"Much better dear. Thank you." she smiled.
"I'll make a poultice for that Jeanne."
He knelt down to her feet and made sure the tunic was well wrapped around for her privacy, and did the same procedure to free her from her ankle restraints. It was clear to her he wanted to honor her modesty because of what she had been subjected to, and so she kept the tunic closed as he worked. She was so much shorter that the tunic dragged on the ground like a bridal trailer.
She stepped out of the ankle restraints. Her dirty feet were still beautiful. One of her ankles was rubbed raw too. She was rid of her shackles.
But right now none of her aches and pains mattered to her.
For the first time in nearly a decade, Jeanne Jacot was standing free, face-to-face within inches of the man she loved since they were children. She threw her freed arms around his neck enthusiastically, and kissed him as intensely as she could. In instant response, Jack wrapped his arms around the outside of her tunic and squeezed her close against him. He was so tall she stood on tip toes to reach his lips.
She broke their deliciously deep kiss only long enough to coo in German, "I love you, Jonathan Robert Clayton IV."
"And I love you too, Jeanne Marie Jacot," he responded, knowing at least that much German, and they kept kissing.
…
Authors Notes: Well, did everyone catch their breath yet? Our two young lovers are finally united! So now life is going to be all 'wine and roses' for the lovebirds in the upcoming chapters, right? Well... guess again. They may love each other but they've been apart in totally different worlds for over eight years. Both are changed and each's habits are very different as a result. The question is: will they discover that they are too changed to stay together, especially facing their first major hurdle: that little matter about Eleanor…?
And of course, 'Ding dong the witch is dead!' in this case, two witches: Karl-Heinz and Gunter. They meet their fates in as violent fashion as their namesakes in Burroughs' canon. God only knows they deserved it but it sure unnerved Jeanne to see Jack and his animal friends capable of such vengeful violence.
Jeanne and Jack both being clothed in tunics is a tip of the hat to the original canon story of Jeanne being kidnapped by desert nomads and being saved by Jack in another violent battle.
And yes the throwaway line about our villain 'not being dead yet' is my favorite Monty Python line…
On a more serious note, you may have found the slave market segment very uncomfortable. Well I did too. The more research I did on the subject of trying to depict at only a "T" rated view of a late 19th/early 20th Century slave market and show Jeanne and those around her suffering the ultimate indignity of slavery and the modern term 'human trafficking' (which really doesn't really describe the horror of women and children subjected to this, and should simply call it what it is – sex slavery). Jeanne was lucky. She had a savior come rescue her from it in dramatic fashion - and while they don't know it yet - take down the slave market in the uproar they created in their escape. In point of fact that part of this chapter is totally dedicated to heightening awareness of modern slavery and its awful effects and in honor of those authorities and volunteers around the world who fight every day to eradicating slavery in every form forever.
Oh, by the way, the kidnapped young mother who was sold just before Jeanne and freed by the Bobbies in the melee? She went home to be happily reunited with her family.
On another 'plot bunny' standpoint, yes Jeanne's slave market number '24601' is Jean Valjean's prisoner number from 'Les Miz', my absolute most favorite musical and Victor Hugo's immortal hero in the original 'Les Miserables' novel. He might as well have been a slave the way he was treated in and out of prison. And of course Jean Valjean was a Frenchmen as Jeanne is, not to mention the male and female name similarities (Jean/Jeanne). Hope you enjoyed that too. I do these things for you to make it fun and interesting and make you go, "hmmmm!"
So I'm gone on vacation a couple of weeks then we will pick things up, and more difficulties ahead, united or not. I hope you read through the next eight or so chapters to the end as we cover her reentry into regular society and the problems that brings. We'll touch on marriage... the honeymoon (with a lot of Jack/Jeanne fluff - c'mon you know you've been waiting for that...) ... reunion with family... and unfinished business with Farnsworth. I invite you to finish the journey with me.