“Thank you,” Yannick said. “I shouldn’t need it with the money you’ve been sending me, but it’s all gone.”
“It’s emergency bribe money if you get caught,” Joseph said, wondering how Yannick was managing to go through $1,000 a month.
Lidy smiled. “I think it’ll work,” he said. “The soldiers know there are those in the seething crowds who are armed, and probably carrying Molotov cocktails. They’ll never run the risk of firing on them. The last thing they’ll want when they’re so hopelessly outnumbered is a bloody riot. It would be different if they were here in regiment force, though. You’re an enterprising young man, Joseph.”
Paul Banze asked Yannick his last question just before four o’clock, saying, “I think you led the rebels and murdered those two soldiers. What do you say to that?
“You’re wrong, sir. I am not a rebel and did not commit murder.”
Yuma Lidy called his last witness, a United Nations investigator.
Yannick made his way out of the courtroom, and a few seconds later Joseph followed him. As he walked down the aisle, two of the soldiers next to Donatien got out of their seats. Yannick was in the corridor about twenty yards in front of Joseph and could hear heavy footsteps directly behind him. As Yannick turned the corner leading to the toilets and fire exit, Joseph swung around and said to the soldiers, “I’m sorry. Can you tell me where the toilets are?”
They paused for just an instant before one said, “Get out of our way,” and started to run.
Joseph strode to the corner to see the two soldiers racing down the corridor and the fire exit door closing. As they opened the door, he saw a crowded alley and then heard sustained booing. Yannick had escaped.
An hour later, when Joseph left the courtroom with Lidy, Colonel Donatien was waiting. “I know what you did,” he snarled. “I should throw you in jail.”
“What?” Joseph said. “I don’t understand.”
“You think you’re smart playing your stupid games. I could snap my fingers, and you’d be dead.”
“But you won’t,” Joseph replied, “because if you do, foreign aid will be cut off, and the president won’t like that.”
“I’ll have my day, and when I do, I’m going to enjoy it,” Donatien said, storming off.
“Don’t antagonize him,” Lidy said. “He’s a dangerous man.”
“So am I,” Joseph replied.
CHAPTER 31
..................
YANNICK RUSHED OUT INTO THE alley, immediately crouched low, and started to push his way through hundreds of legs. He could hear the chasing soldiers and felt the crowd closing behind him. He reached the main street and heard shouts of “Get out of the way, get out of my way,” coming from the steps of the court. Sweat poured from his forehead, and fear drove him on as he half crawled, half stumbled through the crowd.
One hand was thrust deep into his pocket protecting the $5,000 he knew was his ticket back to the village. He felt ashamed accepting it after all the money Joseph had already given him. But once he’d agreed to testify, he hadn’t expected to ever see his village again, so he’d withdrawn all the money in his bank account except for fifty dollars, and shared it amongst the villagers.
The crowd started to thin, and he could no longer hear the soldiers. He stood up and paused for just a second to let the blood rush into his aching thighs. Joseph had told him not to run, but resisting that urge was impossible. He didn’t know the city, and panic set in as he passed street after street without finding Boulevard Kianze. Had he missed it? Did Joseph say it was on the left, or was it right?
It seemed like he’d been running for an hour, but it was less than ten minutes when he finally saw the street sign and turned the corner. The man waiting by the black limo was gigantic. As Yannick scrambled onto the floor, he heard the door close behind him.
“You made good time, Yannick, but you shouldn’t have run. You were lucky some overzealous policeman didn’t stop you. You’ll learn to become invisible in the next few weeks.”
Yannick was still gasping, but Leon’s booming voice, which echoed around the limo, was comforting. He had no idea what the big man was talking about.
“Stay down until I tell you otherwise. It’ll take fifteen minutes to get to the safe house. The people there are risking their lives for you, so don’t get nosy or ask prying questions. They’re not gonna answer, and all you’re gonna do is piss ’em off.”
“I won’t, but how am I going to get back to my village?”
“It’s not going to be easy. The soldiers will be waiting for you at N’djili Airport.”
“I’ll go overland. It’s only a thousand miles.”
“If you do, you’ll be the first.” Leon laughed. “Kikwit is two hundred miles to the east. If you’re not held up by storms, rebels, gangs, and fake police, you might just get there. After that, you’ll face mudslides, roads with impassable craters, wild animals, more gangs, and at night, insect swarms you couldn’t imagine. If you get caught in heavy rain, everything turns to mud. They haven’t invented the four-wheel drive that will get you from Kinshasa to your village. When something goes wrong, which it will, no one will be able to get parts to you. If it was possible, which it’s not, it would take at least seven weeks.”
“I wasn’t thinking of a vehicle,” Yannick said. “I know the bush and can cover more than forty miles a day on foot. I’ll be back in three weeks.”
Leon sighed. “If you don’t get killed or eaten or die of starvation. Have you thought about the rivers and streams? Many have no bridges. Have you thought about getting across them?”
“I will find a way,” Yannick said stubbornly.
Leon made a quick call on his cellphone and then pulled over to the side of the road. “You can get up now,” he said. “The safe house is approximately a mile away. Take the next street on the left, and then look for number thirty-five. It’s a cream brick bungalow barely visible from the street. Go around to the back and knock on the door. They’re expecting you.”
Yannick glanced around. The area was dense with palms, ferns, and foliage. “Where are we?”
“We’re on the outskirts of Kinshasa. That’s all you need to know. Once you leave, forget the street name, the house number, and the location. Oh, and no matter what happens, you must never come back here,” Leon said, extending his hand. “Good luck.”
Yannick pushed his way through the bushes and trees growing along the side of the concealed house. He knocked lightly on the back door, and a severe-looking, thirtyish woman opened it and said, “Quick, come in. I am Belvie, and this is my husband, Rishi.”
Yannick hadn’t been hungry, but a delightful aroma was wafting through the house. He closed his eyes for a split second and took a deep breath.
“Hello,” he said. “Thank you for helping me.”
“I think our friend is hungry,” Belvie said, leading the way to the kitchen.
Rishi pulled out a chair for Yannick, and his bicep danced. “You are about to eat the finest goat stew in all the Congo.” He laughed. “Are you hungry?”
The aroma of goat, herbs, spices, capsicum, and onion filled the small kitchen and overwhelmed Yannick. “Starved,” he said.
As they ate, Yannick could feel Belvie sizing him up. She was thin and not unattractive, but her most pronounced facial feature was an eagle-like nose, on which she balanced a pair of wire-framed spectacles. “You are lucky to have such a powerful friend,” she said, her face softening a little.
Yannick was feeling better than he had all day. His stomach was full, and two glasses of red wine had relaxed him. “How come you’re working for the Americans?” he asked.
“Who said we are?” Belvie snapped.
“I’m sorry,” Yannick replied. “I forgot, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Rishi agreed, “and you must never forget – or it could cost you your life. In the next few weeks, we are going to teach you skills that will help you stay alive.”
/>
“I don’t understand. I thought you were going to help me get back to my village.”
“No, we’re not,” Rishi replied. “We’re going to get you out of Kinshasa to Kikwit. Then you’re on your own.”
“Have you ever used a computer, the Internet, or a smartphone?” Belvie asked.
Yannick smiled grimly. “There’s not much call for those things when you’re a thousand yards under the ground.”
“Before you leave here, you’ll be a smartphone expert. It’s the most powerful tool we can give you. Even more essential than the deadly skills Rishi will teach you.”
“Have you ever fired a rifle, a handgun, or used a knife?” Rishi asked.
“I’ve fired rifles and machine guns into the air. Does that count? And of course I’ve used a knife. I’ve been using one all my life.”
“To kill someone?”
“I’ve never killed anyone in my life,” Yannick said, as he watched his hosts exchange almost imperceptible glances.
“Next week I will teach you how to use a Glock with a silencer and a knife to kill a man with minimal risk,” Rishi said.
“I still don’t understand. Why am I learning these skills?”
“Right now, you have no chance of getting back to your village alive. By the time we finish with you, you’ll have a 50 percent chance. Does that answer your question?” Belvie said.
“Yes. Thank you,” Yannick said. “I appreciate what you are doing for me, but you haven’t told me how I’m going to get to Kikwit.”
“There are two Belgians in Kinshasa planning to drive to Lubumbashi in three weeks’ time. They will never make it, but God willing, they should get to Kikwit. You will go with them. They are traveling east whereas you will be heading north-east. Whether you stay with them after Kikwit is up to you,” Rishi said.
“Fools!” Belvie said. “They will die. They’ve just driven across Siberia, and this is their next challenge. They don’t understand. Siberia is a kindergarten, compared to here.”
CHAPTER 32
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THE UNITED NATIONS INVESTIGATOR SAID he had found evidence of executions, gang rapes, plundering, theft, extortion, and illegal detention by the soldiers.
Banze mocked what he called the purported evidence, saying it was hearsay, and the investigator could not have known what occurred because he wasn’t there.
Joseph thought Lidy had done an excellent job, and that the case against the defendants was compelling. He had no doubt the court would convict and imprison the soldiers. “The prosecution rests, Your Honors,” the feisty little prosecutor said.
Joseph tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Great job.”
Colonel Gizenga was the star witness for the defense, and Banze carefully took him through his rehearsed testimony. He had been in Katanga when he’d received radio communications that the rebels had taken over the New Dawn gold mine, and the staff were fleeing in fear of their lives. Being cautious and wanting to learn more, he had not reacted immediately. Instead, he’d waited for the first helicopters to land, then questioned management and staff. After confirming the rebels were in control, he had sought permission from the mine’s manager to use the helicopters to ferry his men to the mine. Presenting a picture of professionalism and sincerity, Gizenga swore he had done everything by the book. Lidy continually objected to his adversary’s questions, to no avail.
“Were the rebels armed?” Banze asked.
“Objection,” Lidy shouted. “It hasn’t been established that there were any rebels.”
“Disallowed,” the senior judge said scornfully. “Counsel, if you continue with your frivolous objections, this trial will never conclude. Please refrain.”
A smattering of laughter went around the courtroom. The defendants, except Boucher and Botha, nudged each other and grinned. They might as well have been at a Saturday afternoon barbecue for all the concern they expressed. Convinced the court would find them guilty, Joseph couldn’t understand their demeanor, but it worried him.
Gizenga then told the court that when they landed at the mine, the rebels were in control and armed with rifles and spears. He said the rebels obviously outnumbered his men, and his immediate concern was for them. To placate the rebels, he had taken a megaphone and asked them to surrender their weapons. For all allhis peaceful efforts, they had immediately opened fire. After this, a pitched battle ensued, which – thanks to the bravery of his men – had seen rebels turn tail and run to the village where they had regrouped.
“When the fighting started in the village, can you be sure it was only rebels who were hurt and killed?” Banze asked.
“Sadly, no,” Gizenga said hanging his head. “I suspect some of those killed were villagers, but I want to stress they were probably aiding and abetting the rebels. I don’t think any of them were innocent.”
“What do you say to the prosecution witnesses who say there were no rebels?”
“That is a ridiculous proposition. The rebels killed two of my men, and many others were injured.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” Banze said. “Your witness, Counsel.”
Lidy sprang to his feet and said, “Your men killed eighteen women and seven children aged less than ten years old. Would you like to reconsider your answer that no innocents were killed?”
“No! I saw women and children handing spears to the rebels. There were no innocents,” Gizenga said, folding his meaty arms across his chest.
Lidy shook his head. “The United Nations, in its report read to the court, stated your soldiers shot many villagers in the back with machine guns. The UN’s lead investigator was adamant these poor unfortunates were not rebels. I ask you again, would you like to reconsider your answer?”
Gizenga smirked. “I never said villagers didn’t get killed. I said there were no innocents. The villagers who were killed lost their lives because they were hiding and helping rebels. They may not have been rebels themselves, but they helped them.”
A murmur of assent went around the court.
“Were you or the army paid by the New Dawn Gold Mining Company to put down the strike at the mine?”
“I resent your question.” Gizenga bristled. “Neither my men or I received any payments. I know of no strike. I do know a gang of armed rebels threatened the management and staff and took control of the mine.”
“Why then did the company pay for the hire of helicopters to transport you and your soldiers? Does the army usually use private transport resources?”
Gizenga rolled his eyes and looked at the judges. “As I said, the helicopters had just arrived from the mine, where employees had used them to escape the rebels. We were waiting at the airport when they landed, and the company’s management, anxious to expediently put down the rebellion, suggested we take them. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Yes, I do,” Lidy replied, “and I’ll return to it later. When the helicopters landed at the mine, what happened?”
“I tried to talk the rebels into surrendering their weapons, but they engaged us in a fierce firefight. After we had got on top, they panicked and ran.”
“And you chased them?”
“Yes.”
“You ran after them?”
“No,” Gizenga said. “We were in vehicles.”
“You had vehicles at the mine?” Lidy asked, scratching his head.
“No, we used the mine’s trucks.”
“Really? You used the mine’s helicopters. You used the mine’s trucks. Are you sure you weren’t on the mine’s payroll?”
“No, we weren’t!” Gizenga shouted. “It is easy to ask your smart questions now. At the time it was a life-and-death emergency requiring instant action. It would’ve taken eight hours to get to the mine by road.”
“Life and death?” Lidy said. “How many of the mine’s managers and staff were killed?”
“None.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear your answer, Colonel. Could you please speak up?”
/> “None,” Gizenga hissed.
“I put it to you that it wasn’t a life-and-death emergency. The management and staff were never under physical threat. There were no rebels. However, the mine’s management asked you to shut down the strike, and you did, by murdering unarmed workers.”
Banze was on his feet screaming, “Objection, objection, Your Honors.”
“Sustained. Counsel, you are here to ask questions, not make statements,” the lead judge admonished.
Lidy put his hand to his mouth to conceal a smile. “I’m sorry, Your Honors,” and then said, “One last question, Colonel. You own a small office block in Lubumbashi. Who are the tenants?”
For the first time, Gizenga’s face dropped, and he looked to Banze for help. “I have several tenants.”
“Yes, but you have one major tenant. Who is it?”
“Objection,” Banze said. “Counsel is fishing.”
The senior judge paused for a long time. “I’ll cut you some slack, this time, Counsel,” he said to Lidy. “Don’t abuse it.”
“Well, Colonel, who?”
“Liberty Investments.”
“And what does Liberty Investments do?”
“It’s a company based in Mauritania.”
“What business is it in?”
“I believe it’s an investment company,” Gizenga said, staring down at his feet.
“An investment company.” Lidy smiled. “Do you know the New Dawn Gold Mining Company is a wholly owned subsidiary of Liberty Investments?”
“I’d heard rumors,” Gizenga muttered.
“Colonel, why is the rent you receive from Liberty Investments 200 percent above the city’s average?”
“I-I don’t know.”
“Does Liberty Investments transfer funds into an offshore bank account in your name or a company or trust controlled by you?” Lidy asked, now rapidly firing questions.