Stolen Innocence

Chapter 8

There was no door on the hut and nothing to knock upon, so Bane simply stood outside and gently called, "Acayo, I brought you something to eat and drink. May I come in?"

No response. But he knew she was in there; he had heard her moving about before he had spoken.

"I won't hurt you," he added, bending down slightly but not enough to look through the low opening, not ready for her to see his mask again. "You have my word."

He waited, tried to be patient, glanced over his shoulder, saw a couple of the children tentatively emerge from their huts, sleepy-eyed; quickly he turned away before they could notice his mask.

"Acayo, are you not hungry?"

A brief silence, then a small, quiet, "Yes."

Bane lowered the food to ensure that she could see and smell it. "Then may I bring this to you?"

Again he waited, held his breath, listened closely until finally he heard her say, "Come in."

Steeling himself against whatever may come, he bent even lower and entered the dim hut, the banana leaf thrust forward so Acayo would hopefully focus on the food first. The girl sat, tense and stiff, near the opening that Mutara had torn into the rear wall, as if ready to bolt through it should the need arise. Her chocolate-colored eyes lifted from the food to Bane, and she shrank back slightly, her full lips parted.

"It's all right," he crooned, his other hand held out to the side to show that he carried no weapon. "We just want you to eat. Here." He edged toward her and set the banana leaf and his canteen down as close to her as he thought prudent, then retreated to one side of the door and crouched there.

He could see the scars plainly now on her oval face, a random pattern of dark spatters across her brown skin, some patches of pink, concentrated mainly on her right side where she had taken the brunt of the acid. Her right eyelid had been damaged as well, unable to open as far as her left, distended, both eyes bearing the shadows of trauma and despair. Scarring gave her right eyebrow a jagged, broken look, further unbalancing the symmetry of her features. Her hair, as dark as Talia's, was short, unkempt, and frizzled by the humidity. When her trembling hands reached for the food, Bane saw burn scars there as well.

"Please eat," he urged gently. "There's also water in the canteen."

Acayo dragged the banana leaf close, watching him all the while.

"Don't let my mask frighten you. I must wear it."

She took the cap off the canteen, asked, "Why?" before she took a sip.

"Like you, I have facial scars; I was once injured badly."

Some of the fear drifted away from her eyes. "Acid?"

"No. I was attacked by a group of men."

Acayo's slim fingers gathered some of the rice and shoved it into her mouth. "Why did they attack you?"

"I was protecting a child, a girl younger than you. They wanted to hurt her."

She relaxed a bit more. "Did they?"

"No. She escaped."

"Because you helped her?"

"Yes."

Acayo swallowed the rice, studied him thoroughly for the first time. "Have you come to help me?"

"Yes. You and the other children."

She returned her attention to the food and nodded as if not quite convinced. Silence stretched between them as he allowed her to eat in peace.

"How old are you, Acayo?" he asked after a time.

"Fourteen."

"How did you come to be with Joseph Mutara?"

She swallowed hard, jaw tightening, the food not going to her mouth as swiftly now.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I understand."

Acayo drank more, wiped her mouth with the back of one hand. Without meeting his eye, she softly asked, "Why did you help that little girl?"

"She is someone very dear to me."

"Your daughter?"

"No. Her mother was someone I…cared for very much; she was raped and murdered. Afterwards I was all her daughter had, and she was all I had."

"Where is she now?"

"At our home. Far from here."

"Where are you from?"

"I have no true homeland, and where I live now is a secret location. It must remain secret to protect those I love." Bane tried to see her face. "Where are you from, Acayo?"

"Uganda."

"Is that where you've always lived before now?"

"Yes, before he came."

"Mutara?"

She nodded.

"Are your parents alive?"

"My mother died several years ago. My father was still alive the last I knew. But," Acayo gestured to her face, "after this happened, he wanted nothing more to do with me. I went to live with my mother's sister. She is a teacher. I helped her in the school." Her lips twisted ruefully. "I wanted to be a teacher, too."

"You still can be…once we get you home."

Now she looked up at him, a tiny spark of hope in the depth of her eyes, a gaze of wonder, of one afraid to hope, as if she had given up her dream completely while in captivity.

"But what if he comes back?"

"My brothers and I are going to catch him."

"How?"

"Well, we hope you will help us with that."

"Me?"

"Yes. We thought you might know where Mutara would seek shelter or aid after he left here."

Acayo concentrated on her meal, a frown tugging at her forehead.

"He won't hurt you anymore, child. I promise you that."

Her frown deepened as she murmured, "What will you do to him if you catch him?"

"Did you know he is wanted for horrific crimes, for his part in the Rwandan genocide?"

"Yes. He has told me stories of what he has done. I did not want to listen, but he made me." She shuddered. "He told me he would do things like that to me if I tried to run away."

"We will see that he is brought to justice, that he is made to pay for his crimes."

"You will not kill him?"

"That is not part of my brief."

"He deserves to die."

"Yes, no doubt. However, that is not for me or you to decide. That is for the people of Rwanda. But believe me, I want what you want. Unfortunately I must follow orders. I am a soldier."

"You are not the leader of your men?"

"No."

"It is the small, dark man?"

"Yes; Temujin." Bane watched her gnaw tentatively on the smoked meat. "Acayo, will you help us? Can you?"

She picked up the empty banana leaf and licked any residual morsels from it. Setting it down, she took up the pork again and finished that. "There is a place southwest of here, on the way to where he was taking the children, maybe two days' walk. Supplies are stored there, like here. That might be the place he goes to."

Bane leaned forward. "If we showed you a map, could you identify its location?"

Acayo studied him with suspicion now, veiled but detectable. The fear had been tempered by a long-suppressed courage, that of someone who knew she had value to these strangers as long as she had knowledge that they required, knowledge that gave her power; Bane saw that realization in her large eyes, and he liked her even more.

"Show me your face," Acayo said, a stern set to her jaw.

Behind the mask, Bane smiled at her intelligence. Now that she knew his motivation for coming to her, she doubted his authenticity, and thus demanded proof.

"Very well," he rumbled. "But I can be without the mask only for a moment."

"You cannot breathe without it?"

"Its purpose is not for respiration, not directly."

"But if you cannot be without it long, then you must wear it for more than just to hide your scars."

"I do not wear it out of shame or self-consciousness over my appearance, I assure you."

"Then why?"

"I will do as you ask, but the mask's function is irrelevant to your purpose, is it not? Like you, there are many things I wish not to discuss."

She seemed to consider this, her curiosity over what lay hidden greater than her desire to understand the apparatus's practicality, for she nodded and shifted her weight onto her knees, rising slightly in anticipation.

Bane knew the morphine he had injected before breakfast would protect him from most of the pain, but the old fears always returned just before removing the mask, fears that he would keep from Acayo, yet ones that now slowed his fingers.

As he revealed his face, he forced himself to witness her response. Her eyes widened with surprise then softened with empathy as they traveled over his torn lips, scarred cheeks and chin, and his mangled nose. Satisfied, she nodded, and he secured the mask once again.

"A doctor could not help you?" she asked.

"Perhaps. But going to a hospital would have separated me from the child I told you about. I could not allow that."

Acayo grew pensive, looked away. "Thank you for showing me. I am sorry you suffer."

"Do not let it trouble you."

"I hope the little girl appreciates your sacrifices."

"She does." Bane settled back upon the ground, paused. "Will you help us find Mutara?"

Acayo drank more water, held it in her mouth for a long moment, puffing out her cheeks with it, as if trying to wash something away, some bad taste, then she swallowed. "What will you do with the children?"

"That is for my commander to decide, but they will be safely delivered to their families, I assure you, as will you, whether you help us or not."

Still some doubt in the slight twist of her lips. "That place I told you about…where Mutara might be going…"

"Yes?"

"I cannot show you on a map, but…" Acayo put the cap back on the canteen, studied it. "I can take you there."

Not just intelligent, Bane thought, but brave as well. Of course. How else could it be when she had managed to survive so much? Just like Talia…

"The journey would be too dangerous for you," Bane said. "And I would not want you subjected to seeing Mutara again."

"I have made the journey twice before."

"Because you had no choice, no alternative. If Mutara knows you are the one who brought us to him, he may do something desperate to try to hurt you, or worse. I cannot allow such a risk, and no doubt my supervising officer will not allow it either."

"Then you must find Mutara without my help." She crossed her arms.

"Child, this is not a game. Do you not want this man brought to justice?"

"Justice would be a bullet to his head, but you said you will not kill him."

"I told you—I am a soldier who follows orders, and our orders are to capture him alive. If you mean to negotiate on this point, it will do you no good."

"The man who came in here last night with the knife tried to kill Mutara."

"So he did, but he was acting on his own, against orders. It will not happen again."

"You did not kill him for disobeying?"

"No."

"Mutara would have."

"Yes, and so would I, but as I said I am not in command of this operation."

Acayo's arms remained crossed. "Tell the small, dark man what I said—I will lead you to Mutara if you take me with you. Since you say he is the one in command, it will be his decision to make. It does not matter if you say no."

Keeping the smile of approval from his eyes took determination. Yes, she was indeed a clever one.

"Why do you insist on accompanying us, child? Perhaps you wish to help Mutara?" He knew this was not true, yet used this ploy to stir her better sense.

Indignation raised the pitch of Acayo's voice. "I would never help him!"

"Then tell us where we can find him."

"I told you I cannot."

"You will not."

"I cannot point to it on a map; I do not know where it is. But I do know how to find it. Why do you not understand?"

Bane fell silent, studied her. She did not turn away, though her restless fingers on the canteen betrayed her unease. As if knowing he suspected her anxiety, she tried to mask it with a bold move—inching forward enough to set the canteen within his reach. He retrieved it, swished the contents around as he considered this frustrating situation, then hooked it to his belt. Slowly he got to his feet, hunched over.

"I will tell Temujin what you have proposed. I shall return." He started through the doorway but paused long enough to ask, "Did you have enough to eat? I can bring you more."

"Maybe a bit more?" Hesitation in her request, perhaps fear that her stubbornness about Mutara had damaged their rapport.

"Very well."

###

Bane found Temujin checking on the dressing on Diako's leg. Zakuani stood a few meters away by the children, talking on a satellite phone. The youngsters were finishing breakfast and talking amongst themselves, more at ease now, as if the reality of their rescue was finally sinking in. But most of the conversations trailed off when the children caught sight of Bane. Some stared, some looked away; more uncertainty than fright on their faces, a small consolation to him. A couple of girls began to whisper back and forth behind shielding hands.

Diako avoided Bane's eyes as Temujin got to his feet and reached for his rifle. Bane's anger toward Diako remained, but he managed to restrain it.

"Were you successful?" Temujin asked.

"I'm not certain." Bane glanced back toward the hut. "Acayo says she thinks she knows where Mutara will go, but she can't pinpoint the location on a map."

"Was she able to tell you how to find it?"

"She says she can lead us there."

"Excellent. Gather your gear; we'll be moving out directly."

Temujin started to turn toward Zakuani, but Bane grabbed his arm.

"You mean you plan on taking Acayo with us?"

"Of course."

Bane pulled Temujin as gently as his indignation allowed away from Diako. "You can't be serious."

Temujin's cool glance at Bane's grip caused him to free his SO. "The girl can help us fulfill our mission; why wouldn't we take her?"

"Jin…she's just a child. She's not strong enough for this; she's not trained. It's dangerous."

Temujin said nothing for a moment, showing little more than slight irritation, as if waiting for Bane to figure out a riddle without any clues. Finally he asked, "Why are we here?"

Bane's jaw clenched, and he glowered at his friend; this was no time for another lecture.

"Did you not understand my question, Bane?"

"To capture Mutara," he gritted out.

"And to do that we will do whatever is necessary, yes?"

"Of course."

"Whatever is necessary." Temujin stared him down. "Searching for Mutara ourselves at this point would be like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack, don't you agree?" Then some of the steel left his tone. "Gear up and fill our canteens. Tell Acayo we will be moving out shortly."

"Surely not all of us."

"No. Zakuani is contacting the authorities. He will shepherd the children to a place north of here where Diako said a helicopter will be able to land."

Bane watched the murmuring youngsters. "How far away?"

"Several hours' hike, considering that they will need to stop for frequent rests." Temujin cast a disparaging look at Diako. "Not just for the children but for our deceptive friend there."

"Why would you trust him with this task?"

"He has lost the ability to collect from his other employer, so it's safe to assume he will want to collect from us, and he cannot do that without making himself useful. Isn't that right, Diako?"

Diako muttered something in Swahili and fussed with his bandage.

"Now, see to the canteens, Bane," Temujin said. "Then tell Acayo we are grateful for her assistance."