POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS
by Sharon R.
Chapter Twenty-One
We are never deceived; we deceive ourselves. -Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe 1749-1832, German Poet, Dramatist, Novelist
EARLY MONDAY
Two large military helicopters rose from the soccer fields and slowly ascended, the heavy wind bouncing from the belly of the airships tussling Luka's unkempt hair as he sat behind the Midway. Todd was going home, Sean and Bob escorting his body preparing to answer the parents' questions in Kampala. Sera probably wouldn't return after her recovery. Toomay was tending to the shattered emotions of her children and Mbuto. That left Maggie, Carter and Norman, none of whom Luka wanted to be with at that moment. The 'intervention' had gone horribly wrong with Luka finding himself on the defensive as he worked to clear Colleen's name.
As he sat wringing his hands, roughly scraping at the parched skin over his knuckles, he kept thinking about how Carter tried to divert attention away from the focus of the meeting. And about Carter taking advantage of his absence… taking advantage of Colleen. In her pants pocket… he said. Found it in… Luka stood rubbing the back of his neck and gnawed his lower lip… her pants pocket. What a segue, he thought. From drug stealing to impropriety. And Maggie bought it. Hell, Sean probably did too, he smirked inside.
"Are you okay?" Norman Tyson stood before Luka wearing his usual pocket protector loaded with pencils, pens and markers. "Dr. Kovac?"
"Did you see her leave?"
"Who?"
"Colleen."
"Oh. Well, yes. She had a ride."
That's right, Luka thought. "Did she tell you where she was going?"
"Just that she was going to track down that one armed rebel's story and that she'd be gone for a while."
Luka's gut sank and soured. She was going in search of 'Romano's' background. He closed his eyes and eerily felt Jules' presence. How he could suck the life out of a person with just his words and how his total lack of conscience dictated such a tortured way of life for anyone who crossed him. His panicked eyes flew back open when he realized that Colleen would be walking straight into Jules' hands.
"Shit. SHIT!"
"What is it doctor?"
"Nothing, Norman. I'm not working today. I, ah… I'll be out of the camp."
Walking into the front door of the clinic he skirted around the staff as they treated patients. Under the table next to where they performed surgeries he found the box with Romano's backpack. Luka didn't waste any time reaching in and finding the GPS. But before he could pull it out his hand brushed beside something else hard and cold. He knew what it was without even seeing it. The GPS went in his pocket, the gun in his waistband under his shirt. Under the remains of the man's pants that had been cut away he found a leather shoulder holster. That went with Luka as well.
His next stop was the Midway where he found Danny and Buzby.
"Show me how to use this," Luka told them pushing the GPS across the table.
They all went outside where Danny put the GPS on top of a tree stump out in the open, then turned it on. "It's searching for a satellite," he explained. After a few minutes the boys pushed some buttons. "There's only one 'way point' in the memory and we're not too far from it."
Luka knew that that was where Romano had been found. "What about the point of origination?" Luka asked.
They fiddled some more with it, then showed Luka the screen. "That's it."
"Can it be turned around? Can we make that a 'way point' and where we are here the point of origination?"
"Sure doc, watch." This time Buzby took the unit and spent a few moments with it before turning it back over to Luka. "There. You're quite a ways away. You have to go west, south-west. See?" Luka took note of his destination:
4° 2¢ 60 N
18° 45¢ 00 E
"As you get closer, the kilometers will click down eventually showing meters to destination. Watch the arrow like a compass, sort of. Follow the arrow and watch that the kilometers continue to decrease, not increase."
"Thanks guys," Luka barely got out before he took the GPS and left.
He found Othiamba sound asleep after a night of security detail. Luka walked in his room and tapped him on the leg. The light sleeping soldier was quick to jump.
"I need you to get me across the border," Luka told him with the intonation of a request for a ride to the market.
He rubbed his eyes, not sure of what he was hearing before he sat up and quizzed Luka. "Pardon me. You want me to get you into Congo?"
"Yes."
"No. I can't do that. It's too dangerous." He almost laughed.
"Alright, I'll find another way." Luka turned and left the room intent on getting to Colleen any way he could.
"Dr. Luka, stop." Othiamba ran from the building with just his shorts on. "Dr. Luka."
The two returned to Othiamba's room where Luka explained very little to him, except that a friend was in trouble and he had to get there.
"So you are telling me that the only way you will stay here is if I lock you up?"
Luka nodded once and raised his eyebrows at the soldier who was now dressed.
"And you cannot wait until tomorrow when Bob and Sean get back?"
"I'm wasting time already."
"I tell you what, I will get you to Bunia where there are UN peacekeepers. You can let them handle it from there. But you stay with me and that is as far as you go. "
Again Luka nodded his understanding, but inside wondered if he was doing the right thing.
"I suppose you do not have the proper papers." Othiamba sat on his bed as he thought about ways to get around that bit of a technicality. "Well most people there don't. But just in case…"
Othiamba took out a pair of camouflage military pants, a black t-shirt and some regulation boots. "Take these and change into them. I'll explain you away somehow."
Luka went back to his room and quickly changed into the clothing, tucking the pants into the black boots laced above his ankles. The t-shirt was a bit small and smug on his arms, but long enough to tuck into the waistband of his belted pants. He hadn't worn a shoulder holster since his time in the military back in Croatia, but he put it on as though he'd done it everyday since then. Bending over to pick the gun up from the bed he stopped halfway when he spied Colleen's duffle bag, one of her shirts thrown haphazardly on top of it.
He found himself sitting on the floor, his back propped against the bed, holding the shirt to his face, no longer doubting himself. It still smelled of her. She had worn it the last time they had made love. He smiled as he closed his eyes and took another deep breath, remembering how she playfully teased him about not taking off the shirt.
"Uh, uh, uh," she teased in a sing-song voice, "you have to earn that, you bad boy."
She left some of her things, he thought. She is coming back. Why would she if she was stealing?
Inside her book which lay on the floor next to him, Luka took the picture of the younger looking Colleen, the innocent girl who so looked up to her mom - Amanda. And he also remembered how good Jules was at using his victim's happy memories -the stability of their will to live- against them. Using it… using it…. twisting it… then crushing them with it.
"She only has Amanda. And me," he said as he pocketed the picture. "And I won't let him get to her."
The gun lay in the middle of his bed. It wasn't small, he recognized it as a Russian built gun preferred by rogue military around the world. A Yarygin Pistol with deadly accuracy, able to hold 17 bullets in the magazine. He held it by the black grip and familiarized himself with the steel frame barrel. Luka cocked and locked a bullet in the chamber, then flipped the safety back on. Romano was one serious rebel, he thought. The loaded gun was snapped into the holster and spare magazine put into his other pocket.
The staff was so busy in the clinic they didn't see Luka leave. Had they caught sight of him, they most assuredly would have suspected something. Even Luka paused as he saw his reflection in the glass windows of the empty office. Paused, but didn't stop. He had the stature of a mercenary soldier and on his face he carried an equally solid and resolute, focused look.
"Let's go," he told Othiamba as he hopped into the jeep at the gate.
"You have a gun, Dr. Luka?"
"Don't you think I'd look suspicious if I didn't?"
Luka didn't ask how Othiamba was able to arrange for them to tag along on a UN supply flight into Bunia from Nebbi. He didn't care how he got there, and was excited to think he could possibly catch up to Colleen or maybe even head her off. What he did worry about was how he was going to free himself from Othiamba's overly watchful eye.
They had to hoof it into Bunia from the landing zone. The faces of the Congolese people moving in and out of the village were familiar to Luka. Familiar in their weariness and lack of home. The smells were still there too. Of truck exhaust and gunpowder. Sewage and death. And the children were ever present with their weapons close to their side, not a parent in site. Some youngsters smoked home rolled cigarettes while playing a quick game of soccer, always sure to sling their weapons across their backs so as not to let them get in the way.
When they got to a large building with UN peacekeepers milling about, Luka took advantage of his time alone while Othiamba entered the building in search of some help. The GPS took a couple minutes to orient itself to the satellite and hone in on the way point - the longitude and latitude of Jules. All he knew at this point was that he needed to go almost directly west, and he was far from his destination.
"Alright, we'll have to wait here for the commander," Othiamba announced as he bounded down the steps of the building. "He won't be back for a while."
Luka carefully slipped the GPS back into his pocket. He knew that if Othiamba thought he was searching for Colleen by way of Jules, he would do anything to keep him from doing so, even if it meant using his comrades in uniform.
"Do you know where your friend might be?"
Luka simply shrugged and kept his attention away from Othiamba as though he were checking out the action going on around him. "Where do the roads out of here lead to?"
"Well, this here goes north to Aba or south to Beni and Goma." Othiamba pointed to another road looking to be well traveled. "That road there is the east-west route. Goes through Mambasa, Ikela all the way to the other end of the Congo River in the city of Mbandaka."
"Is it safe to travel?" Luka asked.
"Well, not much has changed since you were here last. It's a little less unpredictable. I guess you could call it organized chaos, from what I hear." Othiamba handed him two bottles of water. "We'll talk to the commander and do what we can to get a search team together. Then I think we'll have just enough time to catch another flight back to Nebbi by nightfall."
"Do you have any friends here?" Luka asked.
"Oh yes. My old unit was reassigned here last month. That's who I was talking to in there." Othiamba spied yet another familiar person and waved as they skirted by him.
"Well don't let me stop you. I can wait around out here if you want to spend some time with them." Luka gave him a smile and pat on the back as he sat down against a partially destroyed statue at the base of the stairs. Othiamba was more than eager to take him up on his offer, but once he was inside the building, Luka was back on his feet, long gone heading west.
The kilometers ticked down on the GPS as he trekked west on the road blending in well with the assorted villagers, soldiers and foreign aid workers. Eventually he hopped on the back of a flatbed farm truck hauling bags of grain, the British UN guards on the back more than happy to provide a ride to someone who spoke English. He was a doctor with the UN, he explained, attached to the Alliance de Medecines Internationale. For this he pulled out his Alliance ID tags and let them hang freely around his neck outside of his shirt. The guards were talkative and eager to discuss world news, though Luka really did not have much to share. When that truck pulled off the main road, Luka hopped off with yet another souvenir given to him by his compatriots: a blue UN peacekeeper's hat to replace the one he claimed to have lost. He folded it into his belt and left it hanging to the side as he walked for another hour before hitching a ride with some locals - his new blue hat a trusting welcome.
He was on and off, in and out of vehicles for the better part of the day finally making a stop in a populated area, one which was familiar to him, one which brought back warm memories yet frightening chills. Ikela.
It was a different town than when he last lived there with Joseph and Toomay. The old fashioned, laid back country atmosphere was gone, replaced by government soldiers, UN peacekeepers and some aid workers as well as shady looking characters. Ahead of him was the house - The Bisango home. He walked up to it and stepped in finding it had become an office of sorts for the media.
"Can I help you, mate?" a man asked, his Australian accent fresh and new.
"I, um…" Luka looked around and saw that very little had been disturbed. "I used to live here in this house. This was… is my friends' house." Almost dismissing the strange man in the living area, Luka walked around him and looked into the small kitchen closing his eyes briefly as he tried to remember Toomay's cooking, the morning coffee and the children playing with Carter before bedtime. The porch was still the same, though the beds were gone, replaced by crates and discarded boxes. He stepped down into the porch just so he could hear that one board creak, the one that he'd learned so well to avoid when he got up in the night. The one that Carter tried to avoid but always failed at, cursing under his breath as the boards rubbed together. Through the gray mat of the screens Luka saw that even the small fire pit remained where he, Carter and Joseph spent many an evening discussing life, love, family and philosophy. His eyes followed the road that led up to the clinic away from the back yard as it curved around some trees disappearing into the nether regions of the jungle encapsulated mountain. He wondered if the clinic was still there… Chibon and Agunda…
"Mate? You okay?"
"Hmm? Yes. I, uh,… thank you."
"Where you off to?"
"West. I'm not sure exactly yet." Luka stepped over to the table next to the window and picked up a photograph of the family. Young Joseph was just a toddler on his father's lap at the time. Luka straightened the curled edges and put it in his back pocket intent on giving it to Toomay when he returned to Pakwach.
"And you are…?" the Australian asked.
"I know who you are," another voice called out from the bedroom doorway. "I've taken your picture before, only you didn't look so well at the time." He approached Luka and shook his hand, still examining his face. "You are one of the doctors, yes? One that was kidnapped?"
Luka nodded, still not quite sure of who the man was.
"I was at the Kampala airport. You had me take your picture on the stairs to the jet."
Luka smiled, recognizing the event, but not the face. Too long ago, a bad time, and certainly more on his mind. "Okay. You'll have to forgive me. I don't remember your face, but I do remember that day very well. I'm Luka Kovac."
"I'm Jeffrey and this is me mate, Michael. We're with the Australian Associated Press." More handshakes. "And how did the other doctor fair? The one that was so poorly looking?"
"Just fine. He's back in Pakwach, Uganda working at another refugee camp."
"And you're with the UN now?" Jeffrey commented pointing to the blue hat draped over Luka's belt.
"Hmm? Oh, ah, yes." Luka cleared his throat uncomfortable with the deception, but not enough to blow it. "I'm wondering if you could help me out." Taking his GPS out, he stepped out the door and turned it back on.
Michael wrote down the coordinates and stepped back into the house. "Come on in, mate. Let's see what we have for maps." He rolled out a few maps onto the dining table and read the coordinates, his fingers finally making it to a pin point location. "There it is. You're headed west alright, to the Mbandaka Region, just outside Dakamba actually."
"What's there?"
"You don't know?" Jeffrey asked skeptically with a smile and a look at his friend. "Listen, I'd go with you but it's a closed event. Invited press only. Whoever scored that shoot is one lucky bastard."
"What is?"
"You're going there and you don't know why?"
"Didn't ask. I'm just supposed to be there as part of a medical team and I lost my ride," Luka bluffed.
"Well it's late, we need to eat. You can stay the night with us here. Then we'll see about getting you to the event first thing in the morning."
"I really need to be there tonight."
"You step foot out there in the dark and you'll get nothing but a bullet between the eyes, blue hat or not."
It was a concession he had to make, but it would at least get him there in one piece. As he was setting up a cot in the screened porch, he asked Jeffrey one more question. "What ever happened to the family we left behind in Kampala?"
"The woman and her three children - well two alive at least? I did a piece on them for the AAP and a religious organization back home sponsored them as a refugee family. They're doing well, from what I understand, back in Melbourne."
TUESDAY
Jeffrey and Michael arranged for Luka to get as far west as they could, driven by a local translator. The man was willing to take him straight to the first check point just outside of Dakemba, but Luka made him stop short. He'd get fried at the check point. Absolutely fried. Instead, once the translator was out of sight, Luka took out the trusty GPS and hoped the battery still had life. Once oriented, it told him he only had a few kilometers to go - he was down to single digits. He put on the hat just in case and took off on foot through the jungle following the arrow and watching the kilometers tick down.
Off the road in the shade of the trees, vines and leaves, it was cooler. Still hotter than the dickens, but cooler than the open road nonetheless. Of course the trade off was that the bugs found the dark dankness of the foliage quite inviting and went for any part of Luka left exposed: his arms, face and neck. His sweat was a conduit for the pests like the sticky medium on fly strips. As he stepped over tree routes and around the larger bushes, the dried twigs and curdled leaves crunching under his feet, the smell of the decaying leaves and bark, he experienced a déjà vu, only it wasn't in his imagination, it was in his own memory. Last time he hiked through the jungle he was blindfolded, his arms tied behind his back, forced to stumble over what he couldn't see. Forced to march to what he predicted would be his own brutal murder. This time it was different. Luka had come in search of Colleen to save her from the same fate that had awaited Luka and Carter. But deep down he knew. He knew that this time he was really hunting Jules.
The GPS suddenly changed from kilometers to meters and Luka stopped in his tracks afraid to move, afraid to breath because he knew that he was right on top of Romano's point of origin. He turned to face the direction the arrow was pointing in and very carefully walked one step at a time, almost heel to toe on the outsides of his feet to lessen the unnatural sounds of his approach. His heart was pounding… just pounding, so much so that he even looked down to see if his shirt was moving in concert with it. The arrow on the GPS began to move in different directions and according to the distance marker, he was just meters away… meters away from the house he saw.
Luka squatted down and unsnapped the leather strap holding the gun in the holster, just in case. From behind his large tree he could look over his shoulder and see the back of the small building as well as a few parked vehicles adjacent to a wide open, expansive field. The rays of the setting red sun stretched through the branches and pierced his eyes making him flinch and turn his head as he squinted away the momentary blindness. He was determined to stay there as long as he had to, to listen and watch for Colleen.
With his knees drawn up to his chest, Luka remained motionless, moving only his eyes as he followed the distinct but sporadic clatter of nature and scoped out his surroundings. He didn't bother the two rather large insects, one smaller than the other, as they walked in unison up and over the toe of his boot, but instead marveled at their ability to maneuver around the landscape and blend in with the life and death of nature's jungle habitat. As Luka offered his hand out next to his boot, the bugs halted and seemed to silently communicate with each other, then quickly found an alternate route, deftly avoiding what was so obviously not part of their safe haven. Even they knew what belonged and what didn't. The two marched away from his boot, stopped one more time as if to look back, and as Luka watched with his head resting on his knee, the smaller of the two insects lurched out and took the larger one in its mouth, slowly devouring it, the unsuspecting victim still flailing about until more than half had been swallowed. He thought, if he'd only known…
As the natural shadows of dusk wrapped around him, Luka's eyes began to droop. He'd not slept well the night before. Hell, he hadn't slept well in months. But before he could sink into sleep a noise behind him brought him back to attention. He opened his eyes and reached up to grab the gun from it's holster, then carefully stood straight up against the tree.
TUESDAY EVENING
Sean had joined Norman and Maggie in their pacing outside the Midway, counting the hours since Carter had left - 24, and Luka - 36. Sean continued to fume over the doctors' decisions to leave camp without communicating with him, or without even thinking things through. Not only had they left camp, but they weren't even together.
Vehicles entering the camp normally traveled at a snail's pace allowing for pedestrians, especially children. But the jeep that shot through the gate and skidded to a stop in front of the Midway was anything but careful. Bob jumped out before it had come to a complete stop. Othiamba, who was driving, nearly exited before even putting it into first gear.
Two more large SUV's with tinted windows barreled in after them, several men in dark colored clothing spilling out and following Bob into the Midway. Not only did Sean feel out numbered, but the obvious size difference made him feel about as tall as a kitten.
"Everybody else out," Bob shouted as the few remaining diners were ushered out the side door. "Sean and Doyle, stay put."
Norman raised his eyebrows. "And, uh,… and me?" He wagged his finger in the air.
Bob shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Whatever."
"What the bloody hell…" Sean was without words, for the first time.
"Othiamba tracked me down - told me that we have a situation. Is that right Sean?" Bob had tucked away his snide sarcastic façade in favor of his professional demeanor. Or at least he tried to.
"Seems we've lost two of our doctors," Sean admitted.
"Two?" Bob turned to Othiamba standing behind him, dressed in the same dark outfits as the other silent, well armed men. "Othiamba?"
"I know only of Dr. Kovac."
Bob looked around the room again taking into account who was there and who wasn't. "Let me make an educated guess. Dr. Carter is not busy tending to patients across the way." The dead silence was his affirmative answer. "Fuck. Son of a bitch." After he slammed a chair into the floor he put his hands on a table and leaned into them, sighing. "Even a cow knows not to step into a bear trap twice." Nobody dared say a word. "Othiamba tells me that Kovac is off looking for a friend in danger. Correct?" Heads nodded. "Would that be Carter?"
"Um, no," Maggie spoke up, "actually Carter left late yesterday looking for Kovac."
"So if Kovac left first on this great adventure, who the hell is he looking for?"
"Colleen Reilly." Sean hesitated at first, still stunned by Bob's elaborate appearance.
"Reilly?" Bob's mouth stayed open with that one. "So she's in Congo, Kovac went to find her, and Carter left to find him?"
"We had a meeting yesterday morning," Norman interjected, stuttering, "about the drug situation."
"Oh, for crying out loud. Are you people still whining about that?"
"We were worried about Dr. Carter. But now I think it's quite clear that he isn't taking the drugs." A flustered Norman took out his handkerchief, not so neatly this time, and cleaned his glasses.
"I could have told you that."
"We found out that he hasn't been working at the Gulu hospital," Maggie added, "and…"
"Yeah, no shit."
"You knew," Sean spouted, "and you didn't tell us?"
"You never asked me."
Tempers flared as Maggie, Sean and Norman all blew up at Bob and each other.
"Hold it," Othiamba stepped in the midst of the shouting crowd and held his hands up. "Stop it. Let Bob speak."
"Okay, one person talks. Just one. Sean, half the time I can't understand your Irish dribble, and Norman, frankly when you open your mouth you make me want to mop the floor with my own piss and shit. So that leaves you, Maggie."
"We've come to the conclusion that Colleen has been stealing drugs and supplies and trading them with rebels for photo opportunities."
"That's a mighty big accusation, little girl."
"We found evidence. She set Carter up to get ambushed, only he and Luka traded places at the last minute. The rebels took the supplies and the rest of what happened that day goes completely against what we know to be the M-O of these guys."
"You talk like a cop," Bob mumbled under his breath.
"Yeah, well, family tradition. Listen, she got all of us believing that Carter was using. She set those drugs out in the perimeter for that Congolese rebel. Everything points to her. Then yesterday she slipped up and told Norman that she was going to do a story on that one armed rebel, the one Carter and Luka have that not so rosey history with."
It all started to make sense to Bob. "So Luka went off to save his damsel in distress and Boy Wonder had to save his hapless friend. Great. Just great." Sitting down in a chair, he bent over, leaning his elbows on his knees. "What the hell is Reilly up to?"
"I think I know where they're going." Sean felt uneasy about his prediction. "I think all roads are leading to this Jules character. If we can find him, I bet we find Colleen. Luka and Carter can't be far behind."
Bob put his hands through his hair as he remained in his seat staring at the floor. "Jules Akonda-Bouche. Easier said than done."
The room took on an uneasy feeling as Bob rose and walked over to the screen door and leaned against the frame staring out into the camp, uncharacteristically silent. His shuffling feet on the wood planked floor was all that was heard.
Maggie finally walked over to him. "Bob? You okay?" she asked very quietly.
"You absolutely sure about Colleen?" Bob spoke in a lowered voice while keeping his head turned away from the rest of the crowd in the room.
"Positive."
Shoving his hands back in his pockets, he turned around and resumed his leadership role. "Okay. This won't be easy, and I can't promise that we'll get to them. I'll do what I can, but I cannot involve our government in what's going on over there right now. I may have to pull back if it looks like we're getting too close to those who are affecting regime change."
"You mean you'd leave them behind?" Norman asked.
"It's the best I can do. It's the best they're going to get."
The craftiest trickery are too short and ragged a cloak to cover a bad heart. - Johann Kaspar Lavater 1741-1801, Swiss Theologian