Stolen Innocence
Chapter 4
Ever since he was a child, Bane had a voracious desire for knowledge. In the pit, his curiosity often led him into trouble with other inmates, but such consequences never dampened his endless search for ways to stimulate his mind. He had read every book available in prison multiple times, and through conversations with other prisoners he gleaned more information about the world of light beyond the mouth of the huge shaft. Then, after his rescue, his thirst for knowledge drove him to excel in his studies with the League. Rā's al Ghūl always insisted that his men be just as skilled mentally as they were physically, and Bane was happy to comply.
After Bane's escape, he quickly realized that all the books ever written could never have prepared him for the cruelty that lay beyond his new home in the mountains. He initially tasted this reality shortly after he came to Bhutan, when he had recovered enough from his injuries to search for his father and the man responsible for the imprisonment of Bane's mother—his grandfather. After Rā's had located Bane's grandfather, Bane had taken the arrogant bastard to the pit prison to experience a taste of its horrors, then had killed him. He had had mercy on his father, for Edmund Dorrance had been completely unaware of his wife's fate and the existence of his son. Bane's purpose in finding his father was to inform him of the lie perpetrated to make him believe the love of his life had died in a car accident, and to tell him that she had never stopped loving him. Of course Bane had a secret hope that his father would welcome him and desire a relationship, but such an outcome had not materialized. Bane told himself it was for the best because he could remain with Talia, yet his father's apathy deeply wounded him.
During his familial quest and his first two missions, Bane had seen nothing that endeared humanity to him. He had expected criminality, violence, and hatred to be limited to the minority, but from what he experienced and observed those things were as prevalent in the outside world as they had been in the pit. Man had no regard for anyone or anything but himself. Children and women were victimized. Poverty was rampant. Corruption and greed pervasive.
"Now you can truly understand why the League of Shadows must exist," Rā's had told him. "It is the League's responsibility to restore justice and balance wherever we can. Legal systems and governments are powerless to affect true order, riddled as they are by corruption of their own."
With such ideals in mind, Bane now looked forward to locating his next target, Joseph Mutara. His only disappointment—and surprise—was the directive not to kill the man once found. Anyone who used children as a means to an end deserved death, and Bane would have enjoyed being the one to terminate the man's miserable life. But, he reminded himself, he needed to learn subordination, something he had never suffered under in prison. There he had been his own man, answering to no one. During his first two missions, he had found himself chafing under the direction of another, yet because Rā's had been his commander he had been better able to accept his role. Though he accepted and greatly respected Temujin as his supervising officer now, Bane already anticipated the day when he would be in a position of authority.
"Bane, are you asleep?" Temujin's voice. Bane cracked his eyes open to find his mentor bent over him where he was reclined in the airplane seat. "We'll be landing in twenty minutes. You'll want to replenish your mask before then."
As Temujin returned to his seat, Bane rubbed his eyes and stretched; he had not been asleep, merely thinking. He used the electronic controls to return his chair to an upright position.
Earlier, when he had been sleeping, Temujin's snoring had awoke him at a most inopportune time—he had been dreaming about Melisande, something he had not done for a while. Surely Talia speaking of her mother before he had departed the League's base had prompted the dream. It made him smile to think of Talia's recent dream of Melisande wherein her mother had promised to safeguard him. Bane did not view such assistance as divine intervention, for he had no belief in the divine, but he liked to think Melisande indeed did have some way of staying close to him even from the grave. The idea gave him confidence and strength for his mission.
He looked out one of the private jet's windows. Late afternoon light, the lowering sun far out on the horizon. It had been a long journey—first by land, then by air—and he looked forward to seeing the green forests and jungles of Zaire, yet another new landscape for his young eyes. For many hours after his briefing with Rā's, he had studied not only the target's dossier but everything he could about Zaire, particularly its geography, as well as additional information about the Rwandan genocide and the men who had perpetrated it, refreshing his memory. He felt as prepared as he could, eager to have his boots on the ground, moving forward.
For a moment, as the jet flew low over the savanna on its approach to Kolwezi Airport, Bane allowed his thoughts to return to Talia. He missed her, as he had during his previous missions. She had seen even less of the world than he, so he wished now that she were looking out the small window with him, taking in the green vista and chattering with excitement, her eyes shining.
"There is only one thing that makes you smile like that," Temujin said from the seat facing him.
Bane turned from the window, surprised by Temujin's observation because of course the mask blocked any view of his mouth from his friend, and in profile Temujin could have seen only his right eye.
"Think of her now," Temujin said, "but once you step off this plane, your thoughts must be on the mission only."
"I know, Jin," Bane gently chided.
Temujin grunted skeptically. "And you brought nothing of her, correct? No picture or keepsake? She didn't slip something to you before we left?"
"Of course not. I know my orders. I have nothing on me that could connect us."
"Just making sure."
"I may be green, Jin, but I'm no fool."
"No, I didn't accuse you of that…yet." Temujin could not stifle a small, teasing grin.
Bane turned back to the window. "I was just wishing that she could see more of the world. It's almost as if she's traded one prison for another."
"You can't look at it that way, Bane. There will come a day when both you and Talia may wish she had never seen the outside world and all the harshness it holds. True, there is beauty; I have seen it myself, during those years with my wife, but I'm afraid we in the League frequent less peaceful places than my old valley home."
"I would like to see your valley."
"I will take you there one day."
The idea pleased Bane, not just because he was curious about all things and places, but because he realized Temujin's vow showed how much his mentor trusted and esteemed him. They had known each other for nearly two years now, and though they were close friends, Temujin rarely spoke about his past life, particularly his family life before his wife's murder. Bane had first heard the story of her death when they had met in prison, after Temujin had revealed his connection to one Henri Ducard, a revelation that had overjoyed Talia and amazed Bane. Temujin's reticence on the subject of his family since then had been understandable, for Bane easily sensed the pain it caused his friend, a pain similar to his over Melisande's death and his inability to prevent it. So he had never pressed Temujin, even though he was indeed keenly interested. The prospect of Temujin willingly returning to the village where he had lived with his wife's family told Bane that his friend was beginning to heal. Bane wondered if he would ever recover in a similar way from Melisande's death.
Once they had landed and taxied toward a hangar, Bane saw an African man standing near the structure.
"Is that Zakuani?" Bane asked Temujin as he stared out the window.
"Yes."
Zakuani was of medium build, dressed in pale tan pants and white shirt that billowed slightly in the breeze, the sun glinting against his shaved head. During the journey Bane had learned what he could from Temujin about the thirty-three-year-old, for Temujin had worked with him once before, another reason why the Mongol had been picked for this assignment. Zakuani had been with the League for seven years. He had been born in Zaire and spoke the four national languages: Kituba, Lingala, Swahili, and Tshiluba, as well as English and French.
"Don't let his easy nature fool you," Temujin had warned. "He is a deadly fighter. His whole family was murdered in front of him when he was a child. He survived only by playing dead. He tracked those men down when he was only a boy still, and he killed every one of them with only a knife and a machete."
Thinking of Melisande's death, Bane again regretted that he had been unable to exact the same type of personal revenge for her. But at least he had been allowed to enjoy the dying screams of Melisande's murderers when her husband had arrived in the pit and exterminated them all.
Bane and Temujin left most of their belongings stowed on the jet, for they would be returning to it in the morning to fly farther in-country. So Bane stepped onto the apron carrying only a light backpack slung over his shoulder, following Temujin. He found the weather pleasant and comfortable. Here in the southern part of Zaire, temperatures were more moderate on average than to the north where the land was more heavily-forested.
Zakuani had not moved from the spot where Bane had first seen him, nor did he raise a hand in recognition or greeting. His expression was stolid except for a hint of interest in his dark eyes as he studied Bane's mask. He showed no surprise; Zakuani would have done his homework on the League men who would be joining him on this assignment.
"Good to see you again, brother," Temujin said as he shook Zakuani's hand.
"And you as well, brother." A hint of a white, blunt-toothed smile tempered the African's expression, laconically spreading his thick, broad lips. His nose was broad as well, these two wide features giving his eyes the illusion of being close-set. His nostrils flared slightly when his attention shifted back to Bane.
Temujin stepped slightly to the side as he reached for Bane's shoulder and rested an almost possessive hand there. "This is Bane. As you know, he is new to our ranks."
There was slight hesitation before Zakuani offered his hand, his smile more perfunctory now. "You are fortunate to have Temujin as your supervising officer, my friend."
"Yes. Yes, I am." Bane glanced at Temujin who grinned proudly and patted his shoulder.
"Come," Zakuani said, gesturing toward a battered white Toyota parked nearby. "Let us get out of the sun. We have but a short journey to my home."
Kolwezi Airport was just southeast of the city itself, a mining town of over 400,000 people. The state-run Gécamines was Zaire's largest mining company, an open pit operation west of Kolwezi that once produced hundreds of thousands of tons of copper and cobalt each year. But social unrest as well as economic issues had contributed to tougher times for the company here in the 1990's, and production was but a fraction of the mine's glory days in the 1980's. Zakuani worked there when he was not on assignment with the League. Such an occupation provided him with the double life that many of their brethren shared in communities around the world, work that also gave access to important regional information, both economic and political.
Zakuani's home was only minutes from the airport in a neighborhood with a hodgepodge of dwellings, some tight together, some spaced, some single-family, some buildings—like Zakuani's—made up of several apartments. Sparse trees provided limited shade in places. Dirt streets with few cars and a colorful variety of people, some walking, some on bicycles, scatterings of children playing, children who made Bane think of Talia and how she had no playmates her own age. But he remembered Temujin's admonition to put her out of his thoughts once he was on the ground, and he did his best to conform.
The building they arrived at was two stories, with Zakuani's residence on the upper floor. They parked in the rear, in a small, cluttered courtyard, devoid of anyone except an old woman sitting outside a door, holding a crying baby.
"You will get inside quickly," Zakuani instructed. "The fewer people who see you, the better. They will be suspicious of you both because of your appearances, because you are outsiders. Let us not feed their curiosity, yes? The fewer questions they ask me, the better."
Bane obeyed, following their host up a rickety flight of stairs and down a short, musty hallway. The smell of cooking greeted him as Zakuani opened the door and stood back for his two guests to enter.
The space was cramped but neat, with worn furniture, an old television in a corner by the single window that looked out upon the courtyard, and a couple well-traveled rugs on the floor. Two other rooms led off this one—one was the kitchen with a small table against one wall, the other perhaps a bedroom, the door closed. To Bane's surprise, he saw a woman in the kitchen, standing over a pot on the stove, from which steam arose. She turned when she heard Bane's booted feet and stepped into the doorway, wiping her hands on a rag. There she stopped abruptly, her gaze latched upon Bane's mask. But she managed to quickly hide the alarm that had instantly jumped across her countenance.
Bane did not realize he was staring at her until Temujin jostled him—intentionally or not, Bane did not know—as he unslung his small pack and set it in a corner near the door. The woman, who appeared around the same age as Zakuani, offered Bane a tentative smile. He knew not what to say or do, surprised not only to find someone besides Zakuani here but to find a woman. Why had Temujin not mentioned her? Perhaps the Mongol was as unsuspecting as he.
Bane had been exposed to only five women in his life: his mother, Melisande, Talia, Maysam, and a nurse at the clinic where he had his back surgery, the latter two only for a few brief moments. On his other assignments thus far with the League he had operated mainly at night and thus had limited views of other people, and that had been in the Middle East where so many women wore concealing clothes. This slim woman stood before him wearing a loose-fitting, plain dress that reached nearly to the floor, a tan color, almost gray, with a dark gray design throughout, her feet bare as well as her head. The steam from her cooking had frizzled her short-cropped, black hair. Like Zakuani, her facial features were broad, and Bane could almost wonder if she were Zakuani's sister if he did not already know that Zakuani's siblings had all died. She had a pleasing oval shape to her face and high cheekbones. The brief smile she had given him had not completely warmed her visage, and in her nut-brown eyes he read a deep pain from her past, something that still struggled to squelch any warmth she might feel toward another human being.
At that moment the realization struck Bane that the League of Shadows had trained him to fight and survive and excel as a warrior in the real world, but it had taught him nothing about women.
"This is Belvie," Zakuani said. He gave her a slight nod of encouragement. "Belvie, these are two of my brothers, Temujin and Bane."
"I am pleased to meet you," Belvie said in a soft voice with a slight French accent.
"She is making us an early supper; she figured you would be hungry from your travels."
"Thank you," Temujin said with a slight bow to her. "It does smell good."
"I will bring you something to drink," she said before withdrawing into the kitchen.
Zakuani took Bane's pack from him and put it with Temujin's as they removed their footwear. He gestured to the couch, which sagged slightly, and Bane settled there with Temujin while Zakuani sat in an equally-saggy green chair. Belvie returned, bearing a tray with a chipped teapot and cups. After setting the tray on a coffee table before her guests, she straightened and glanced questioningly at Bane's mask. Bane's fingers twitched, and he wanted to look away from her, but he had learned to master this self-conscious urge whenever others considered the mask.
"My husband said you most likely would drink tea. Is there…anything else you might like?"
"Tea is fine," Temujin said. "Thank you."
Again she returned to the kitchen as Zakuani poured tea for Temujin. He raised his eyebrows to Bane, still holding the pot.
"Will you drink, brother?"
"Not right now," Bane said, though there was nothing he wanted more. "I will drink when I have my meal."
"I know little of your mask; only that you wear it because of injuries you suffered. I assume you are able to remove it."
"Of course," Bane tried to keep the irritation from his tone. "I eat and drink as you do." Not as easily or of the same diet, he almost added, but innate caution made him suppress any more information. He dismissed Zakuani's curiosity by introducing some of his own, his attention drifting pointedly toward the kitchen. "I was unaware of someone living here with you. She is not one of us."
"Not in the way that we are, no. But she is trustworthy and understands a bit about who you are and why you are here."
"You think that wise?" Bane suppressed a scowl.
"If I thought it anything less, she would not be here. But her presence serves a purpose, just as yours does, my surly friend."
"Bane doesn't mean to be insulting," Temujin said with a pointed glance at his subordinate. "He's tired from the journey, as am I."
Zakuani did not partake of the tea. Temujin's remark seemed to soothe him slightly and removed the edge from his voice. "You stay in the mountains, don't you, Bane?"
"Yes."
"I haven't been there since my training. I have always lived in Zaire and here in Kolwezi for several years now. Unlike in the mountains, here an operative must blend into his surroundings. If I lived here alone—no family—some of my neighbors might become suspicious. So Belvie lives here as my wife, but of course she is not my wife; I uphold my vows to the League."
"She's kept here against her will?" Bane asked.
"No. You might say she is paying a debt."
"To you?"
"Partly, but I would consider it more a debt to the League since everything I do is for the League, just as it is with you."
Bane's suspicion had mainly abated, and his curiosity about the woman and her arrangement with his host won out. But he was unsure whether to keep questioning Zakuani, especially after Temujin's tacit rebuke a moment ago.
"Did you know," Zakuani continued, his voice more private now, "how high the rate of sexual abuse and rape is in this country?"
Surprised by the turn of subject, Bane merely shook his head. Because of Melisande, this was not a topic he relished.
"Belvie is one of those victims. I saved her from a terrible situation during one of my ops. It was a chance encounter, but I did what any moral man would do in such a case, what any man of justice would do. So now we help each other—I provide her with security and a home, and she provides me with the disguise of normalcy. I am but a humble mineworker with a loving family."
The word family increased Bane's curiosity, but before he could ask anything more, the door to the bedroom creaked open, and a toddler appeared, sleepy-eyed and yawning, rubbing her dark face. Then she saw the strangers and froze on the threshold, staring with wide brown eyes.
"Dorsia," Zakuani said. "You slept a long time—"
The toddler's ensuing scream of terror cut off Zakuani's words—she was focused on Bane's mask, her face now contorted, her high-pitched noise unnerving Bane.
Belvie rushed into the room. "Dorsia."
The child wheeled about and fled back into the darkened bedroom, struggling the door shut behind her, all the while still screaming. Belvie hurried in after her, which caused Dorsia's cries to increase even more in pitch, as if she feared that it were Bane pursuing her. Her outcries pained his ears. Even at her youngest, Talia had never made such sounds. Thankfully Belvie shut the door behind her.
"I'm sorry," Zakuani said above the somewhat muffled clamor from the bedroom. "I had told her that we would have guests today, but she is so young and shy. She doesn't understand everything, of course."
Since acquiring his mask Bane had quickly hardened himself to others' reactions, but seeing and hearing a child respond with such panic left him embarrassed and rueful.
"There is no reason to apologize," Temujin smiled. "We are an ugly pair, aren't we, Bane? We frighten many children." He chuckled.
"Excuse me." Zakuani stood. "I will try to quiet her so Belvie can finish supper."
But try as they might neither Zakuani nor Belvie could calm the child enough for her to venture out of the bedroom, even for supper. So Belvie ate in the bedroom with Dorsia while the men ate at the table in the kitchen. Bane said little through the meal, eager to put his mask back on lest Belvie or Dorsia emerged from the bedroom. Zakuani had no reaction to the scarred remains of his face, but Bane knew without looking that the African chanced a couple of curious glances his way during the meal.
They spent the evening discussing their mission, with Belvie and Dorsia in the bedroom. After Belvie tucked her child into bed, she emerged, and Bane tried to convey his apology through meeting her gaze. She gave him a small, acknowledging smile, one that offered her own apology in return before she went into the kitchen. There she remained, drinking coffee and reading a newspaper with what appeared to be great difficulty, allowing the men privacy. Bane found himself wishing she were with them, perhaps talking a bit about herself and her child. He wondered who Dorsia's father was. Could it be Zakuani? Had she been married before? If so, what had happened to her husband? Or was Dorsia the result of a rape? Yet, Bane berated himself, what did it matter?
They all went to bed early, Zakuani into the bedroom while Temujin took the couch and Bane lay on the floor with a pillow.
"Your back will stiffen by morning if you sleep there," Temujin warned as Bane removed the broad brace that encircled his waist. "Why don't you take the couch?"
"Because I'm too big for it." Though he spoke the truth, even if the furniture had accommodated his formidable frame he would not have allowed his elder the less comfortable sleeping accommodations offered by the rug.
Perhaps Temujin realized this, for he said nothing more on the matter, and instead turned off the lamp. Although tired, Bane stared at the ceiling, knowing sleep would not come easily if at all. He listened to the soft murmuring of voices beyond the closed bedroom door. Dorsie. She was speaking now, in French, offering more words than she had since Bane's arrival, and he hoped that by morning she would have forgotten her scare; he would be gone before she arose.
Bane wondered if Zakuani always shared the bedroom with Belvie or if he only did so tonight because of their guests. True, League members were forbidden from marrying, but perhaps Zakuani still had sex with Belvie. But then Bane considered the things his host had intimated about Belvie's past and wondered if perhaps those experiences had so traumatized the woman that she would refuse such advances. Surely Zakuani would not force himself upon her, for Bane had seen the outrage in the man's eyes when he had spoken about Belvie's history.
After half an hour of tossing and turning, feeling entirely too warm, Temujin's quiet voice reached out to him, "You must try to sleep, Bane. We will be leaving in only a few hours."
Bane sighed, sheepish because he knew his shifting about was keeping his friend awake as well.
Following a pause, Temujin said, "You are troubled by the child's reaction to you."
Bane hesitated, considered. "Yes."
"Why does it matter how a child views you? You may never see her again."
"It just…reminded me of something."
"Something with Talia?"
"Yes."
The couch protested as Temujin shifted his weight to face Bane. "We have spent many months disciplining your mind to accept and master the shadows from your past life. You had told me of your success. Were you untruthful with me?"
"No, of course not."
"Then tell me why the child disturbs you."
Bane had not wanted it to come to this; he had thought Temujin asleep and unaware of his restlessness. It had been some time since they had discussed his history, since Temujin had helped him overcome nightmares and flashbacks after the attack during Talia's escape from the pit. To speak of that time now might make him appear weak in his SO's eyes, as if he had digressed in his mental training. But he knew his friend would not simply let the subject drop, for Temujin always said that one had to face such issues, not try to forget and bury them.
"Her reaction," Bane began tentatively, "reminded me of when we were rescued. You didn't reach the surface until after me, so you didn't see what happened."
"See what?"
"Talia's reaction when she saw me."
"What do you mean?"
"Remember I was heavily bandaged, bloody and filthy, half out of my mind from pain. At first she had no idea it was me. All she saw was a monster. And she was horrified; she recoiled from the very sight of me, repulsed and fearful. I couldn't blame her, of course, but it gutted me. Of course she quickly realized it was me, but for those few seconds," his voice softened even more, "I thought all was lost, that I had lost her. It was the worst feeling I had ever had. I'll never forget it."
Silence for a long moment before Temujin sighed. "It is understandable that you connect the two experiences. And it tells me that you still see yourself as that monster you thought Talia saw. But you are not that, my friend, and you never were. You must find a way to banish such images, such perceptions from your mind. They will do you no service. I am here to help you with such things; that is my job. But you must always tell me of such lapses; don't hide them from me. I can't help you then."
"I thought I was beyond all that."
"Obviously you are not. But there is no shame in it, Bane. You have endured much, and very little time has passed since those days. You must not be discouraged. You are strong enough to overcome these things. I've always had that faith in you."
Bane's furrowed brow eased. "Thank you, Jin."
"You are most welcome. Now, I will help you clear your mind. Rest is far more important right now than the useless ghosts of your past."
There was an old Mongolian chant that Temujin used with Bane several times in the past. His mentor had never translated it for him, claiming that the words were not important for Bane to know, that the real importance was in the intonation and its relaxing power. Bane had always enjoyed listening to Temujin's native language and had even acquired a working knowledge of it, but the majority of the words in the chant were still lost upon him.
"You must not always trouble yourself with the 'why' of everything," Temujin always said. "While knowledge is important, you must develop the ability to turn off your mind and allow it to rest and heal. Madness comes to those who do not master this skill."
As Bane closed his eyes and focused on his breathing there in the darkness, Temujin began to softly chant. And before the Mongol could finish, Bane slipped away into sleep.