The Fish's Belly

  “What about Agent Smith?” asked Daniel.

  “Yes, I suggest Harry, you and Daniel and Rachel use our rental car to go meet Agent Smith at the airport for his 9:00am arrival. We’ll have to hire a second car tomorrow. Dembe, you, Donald and I can stake out the Blue Angus…”

  “We can stay in contact on our mobile phones,” suggested Daniel—Mac always had his on hand, and Rachel usually hung on to the second one they had.

  “Exactly,” replied Mac. “If we’re still waiting at the Blue Angus when Agent Smith arrives, perhaps you can keep him company at the airport. As soon as Marco moves, we’ll let you know. And all rendezvous somewhere at the airport itself.”

  “I know where the General’s plane will land,” added Dembe, “the private airstrip just outside the main airport’s grounds.”

  “Fantastic,” smiled Mac. “God has assembled the perfect team together. And that includes you Suzie,” Mac’s kind gaze warmed her soul. “Thank you so much for everything. Your hospitality, your protection … and this delicious fish!”

  “Here, here!” cheered Harry, as they all applauded again.

  Suzie blushed; she had never been treated so kindly before … ever.

  As dinner came to a close, the family and friends spent an hour together in worship and prayer, knowing they still had a long day ahead of them … before a nervy Monday dawned.

  Suzie didn’t leave.

  She observed her new friends worship their God. She hadn’t been as fortunate as Dembe had been; she hadn’t met any missionaries as he had.

  As she soaked in the tangible sense of God’s Presence, her heart found peace at last.

  When the McArthurs finally went to bed, Dembe, Harry and Donald sat up with her, ministering to her for another couple of hours.

  God’s healing flooded her soul, shedding layers of resentment and bitterness. Forgiveness flowed like a river from heaven; a tough, hardened woman became a soft, gentle child embraced by her heavenly Father.

  Just before they called it a night, Harry spoke the last words.

  “Do you remember when I said this morning; it doesn’t get better than this?”

  “Yes,” nodded Dembe.

  “Well,” smiled Harry, with misty eyes, “it just did!”

  21

  Besides the absolute joy of celebrating Suzie’s encounter with God, and getting to know her better, Sunday was a long and anxious day.

  Donald and Dembe went to hire a second car. Unable to find a car rental company open on Sunday, they were out a long time … long enough to have everyone on edge and chewing fingernails.

  When they finally got back, much to everyone’s relief, they decided that Harry, Rachel and Daniel would catch a taxi on Monday morning instead. Phoning to book a taxi was simple, and they made the booking without any hassles.

  Knowing Marco would more than likely step up his efforts to hunt them down; they stayed in the inn all day and had a scare when soldiers arrived at the front door, demanding to see the manager.

  Two uniformed soldiers.

  Both heavily armed.

  They made some noise, and kicked up a fuss.

  Suzie, however, handled them expertly, and sent them packing fairly quickly.

  It turned out they didn’t have any solid leads, and were trying to rough-up all the hotel managers in the city, hoping to flush the McArthurs out.

  Through this unnerving occurrence it dawned on Mac that Marco seemed confident they had not left Kampala. This could only mean one thing. Marco must have secured the airport; stationing his men there soon after their arrival, cutting off any escape.

  Perhaps sending Harry, Rachel and Daniel to the airport along first thing on Monday wasn’t such a good idea.

  So plans were changed.

  Dembe would go alone by taxi to the airport; Marco’s men didn’t know he even existed. Mac emailed Roger Johnson to inform Agent Smith that Dembe would collect him from arrivals.

  Harry, Rachel and Daniel would come along with him and Donald to the Blue Angus.

  Needless to say, the day was punctured with tension and stress.

  By the time they finally fell asleep on Sunday night, they were absolutely spent. But none of them slept well; Monday was looming.

  ***

  Leaving the safety of the inn for the first time in over two days was an unsettling experience for the McArthurs, Harry and Donald. Whether their change of hair-colour would help them fly under the radar, so to speak, might now finally be tested.

  Suzie prayed with them before they departed just after 5:30am—they wanted to be outside the Blue Angus as early as possible.

  “Waking up early isn’t difficult if you never fell asleep,” moaned Daniel, his bloodshot eyes evidence of his lack of sleep.

  “I couldn’t sleep either,” groaned Rachel.

  Waving them off, Dembe stayed behind at the inn. He had a couple of hours before his 7:30am taxi service would arrive.

  Mac found a good parking bay just a hundred metres from the Blue Angus just as the city began to wake up.

  From their vantage point, they could watch both the hotel entrance, and more importantly, the exit point of the hotel’s car park. They had no idea what car Marco drove; Harry and Marco had caught a taxi to the hotel when arriving early last week.

  They would have to keep all five sets of eyes open and alert to make sure they spotted him. They couldn’t afford to miss his departure.

  They didn’t have to wait long, nor was it difficult to spot Marco and his henchmen leaving the hotel. They hardly left quietly.

  First, a silver Mercedes convertible sports car roared out the car park exit. With the convertible’s roof down, Marco was the only one in the vehicle. Behind him spluttered three red, fairly worn and shabby-looking Mazda 2s … with four soldiers in each.

  The contrast between Marco’s joy-ride and the three trailing cars was not lost on anyone … and that was probably his intention anyway.

  “An empty tin makes a lot of noise,” said Donald.

  “An African proverb?” asked Daniel.

  Donald nodded.

  “That’s brilliant! A land of pithy wisdom,” smiled Rachel.

  “Twelve soldiers,” Mac muttered to himself, “plus Marco. Okay, let’s give them a few minutes lead before we follow.” He was glad they hadn’t missed the convoy’s departure, but wasn’t pleased to see so many men.

  “Dad, do you think the man who chased us is among them?” asked Rachel.

  “I’m not sure,” replied Mac. “I wouldn’t think so, he was hurt pretty badly.”

  “It seems they’re definitely heading in the direction of the airport,” observed Harry, remembering the route the taxi had brought him from the airport.

  “Yes, but its only just after 7:00am,” Mac puffed his cheeks. “It’s too early. Agent Smith only arrives after 9:00am.”

  ***

  While the roads were starting to fill up, the journey to Entebbe International was uneventful. Once they confirmed that Marco and his entourage were definitely en route to the airport, they took their time and kept their distance. They again had lots of time to endure, and Harry phoned Dembe, who was left with Rachel’s mobile, to inform him that they were already on their way.

  They arrived at Entebbe at 7:43am just in time to see the Mercedes and the three red Mazdas disappear down a secondary road just off the main road entering the airport.

  “That must be the road to the private airstrip Dembe explained to me last night,” said Mac as he pulled off the road to park the car under the shelter of a few trees.

  Dembe had drawn a map from his knowledge of the airport. Even after losing his job at the airport, he had returned regularly to chart any changes, hoping just such a day would come.

  Mac would have loved for Dembe to be with them now, almost as much as Dembe wanted to be. He was, however, the only one who Marco and his soldiers didn’t know; the only one who could collect Agent Smith.

  “What now, Dad?” asked Ra
chel anxiously.

  “Sweetie, we wait. Dembe should arrive at the airport via taxi in the next 20-30 minutes. Agent Smith only arrives in an hour and…” he looked at his watch, “…ten minutes, if his plane’s on time. All we can do is, watch the skies. Let’s keep our eyes open for that cargo plane.”

  Mac had thought of a thousand different ways to play this. However, with his children, Donald and Harry to think about, he wanted the support of Agent Smith around—and with him, the backup of the international police—before trying any bold moves.

  “Mac, why don’t we leave the car here? It’s concealed nicely anyway. We could walk through the bush here and at least get a view of what Marco is up to?” Harry’s suggestion would prove ingenious.

  “Yes, great idea,” said Mac. They could remain concealed in the dense bush, and it would be better than sitting around waiting. “Let’s do it.”

  ***

  As they exited the airport-end of the strip of bush that marked the edge of the airport property, having climbed over a wall, they saw them.

  Two soldiers patrolling the arrivals section.

  Six more patrolling the car park area.

  Still well out of sight, Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. “Gee, looks like Marco’s men … looking for us.”

  “Good call, Harry. We would have arrived by taxi and walked straight into them,” Daniel exhaled deeply, too.

  “Perhaps the hair dye would have saved us,” joked Harry.

  “Glad we didn’t have to find out,” added Donald.

  “Eight more soldiers,” stated Mac, “and that’s the men we can see. There could be more that we can’t.”

  “Where did Marco and his small army go?” asked Daniel.

  “This way,” said Mac. “Let’s go.”

  They kept close to the bush line, and made their way over to the private airstrip that was flanked by a number of warehouses on both sides.

  “Just as Dembe explained it,” said Mac.

  There were no planes on the landing strip yet, but Marco’s Mercedes and the three Mazdas were in plain view … parked next to one of the warehouses.

  The soldiers had opened the two huge doors of one warehouse, and were busy opening the doors of a second on the other side of the airstrip, directly opposite the first.

  “Dembe explained that the weapons are offloaded into the one warehouse and the Perch are loaded onto the plane from the other,” said Mac, a deep furrow creased his forehead.

  “I can’t believe it. And it’s basically in plain sight,” muttered Donald.

  “Okay,” continued Mac, “let’s get comfortable behind this shrubbery here. Harry won’t you call Dembe, see how he’s doing and explain to him where we are.”

  “Sure thing,” replied Harry as he grabbed the phone out of his pocket.

  “Now we wait … and pray.” A steely look of resolve animated Mac’s face.

  22

  This waiting was the worst yet.

  The bush was uncomfortable. The sun was hot and bright.

  It seemed that annoying insects of every sort were suddenly alerted to their position.

  And then Dembe’s phone call: Agent Smith’s plane was delayed by at least forty-five minutes.

  The only good news was that there was no activity on the private airstrip either.

  As they remained hidden in the bush shrubbery about three hundred metres from the warehouses, their anxiety was matched only by the apparent boredom of the soldiers.

  Some lay in the warm sun, while others appeared to be involved in a low-stakes game of cards.

  Marco didn’t share their relaxed attitude, when he wasn’t hidden from sight in one of the warehouses, he paced up and down outside. He slapped a soldier at least twice, kicked the ground three times and smashed the door of the warehouse once with what looked like a crowbar. To calm his own nerves, Daniel was keeping count.

  “I think Marco’s got a lot of explaining to do,” said Mac. “Let me just say, the General isn’t a very understanding boss.” For the first time, a shiver ran up and down Mac’s spine. The thought of facing the General again suddenly hit home.

  A heavy feeling of dread bore down upon him.

  “I’ve got to finish this once and for all,” he thought to himself. “Father God, give me strength.”

  ***

  DILIMINK DILIMINK

  The phone rang again in Harry’s pocket. Hastily he pulled out.

  “Yes? Yes, Dembe … Okay … okay … thank you.”

  Harry took the phone off his ear, and then said to his on-edge audience: “Smith’s plane has just landed. Dembe will phone us as soon as Smith clears customs.”

  “I didn’t even see it,” said Daniel. Even though their view of the main airport runway was blocked, he had hoped to spot the plane before it landed.

  “Look!” blurted Donald. “Over there!”

  In the distance ahead of them, over Lake Victoria, the black dot of an aircraft hung in the blue sky, seemingly headed straight towards them.

  “It must be the General’s plane, surely?” said Harry. The aeroplanes that landed at the main airport approached from a different angle, and were out of their field of vision. This one appeared to be headed for the private airstrip in front of them.

  “What do we do?” asked Rachel, trying to manage her apprehension.

  “Nothing,” said Mac. “When Dembe calls back, we’ll speak to Agent Smith and ask him how we should proceed.”

  “Is that smoke behind the plane?” asked Donald, who certainly had the sharpest eyes among them.

  “What?” Harry squinted. “I can’t see anything.”

  “Smoke?” Mac couldn’t see anything either.

  “Yes, I see smoke,” said Rachel. “What does it mean?”

  “That your Dad’s and my eyes are old,” said Harry with a nervy laugh. “I still don’t see anything.”

  As they watched the dot in the sky morph and expand into the shape of an aeroplane, Donald was right.

  “I see it! There is smoke behind the plane,” gasped Harry.

  “Like a black wispy tail,” remarked Rachel.

  “Getting thicker and thicker,” added Donald.

  “Look!” said Daniel, pointing to the warehouses.

  The soldiers had assembled in three rows of four and stood at attention, anticipating the arrival of the aircraft. Marco, with binoculars to his eyes, was able to get a much better view of the aeroplane, and the mystery smoke trail behind it.

  Then he barked out something to the soldiers, and it seemed a degree of restlessness descended on them immediately.

  Marco looked to the sky again through his binoculars, and this time snapped out some orders … the soldiers broke rank and ran into the one warehouse, returning seconds later with emergency fire extinguishers.

  “The plane must be on fire,” gasped Harry.

  Now it was clear, the Soviet made Ilyushin II-76 cargo plane was labouring. Smoke bellowed out from behind it, and it seemed to stutter in the air.

  It was still at least five hundred metres from land, but now only fifty odd metres above the water.

  And then it happened.

  The nose of the plane dipped.

  With smoke gushing from the rear, and flames dancing on the tail, the cargo plane fell out of the sky.

  Head first.

  Into Lake Victoria.

  Striking the water some ninety metres from the shore.

  “Oh, my goodness!” said Harry in a gasp, drowned out only by the noise carried all the way from both the crash itself and the commotion from the warehouse where the soldiers were just as bewildered by the incident.

  Marco was yelling at the top of his voice, his arms flailing in the air as he shouted out orders … the binoculars bouncing on his chest hung by a strap around his neck.

  The scene was almost comical.

  One group of soldiers went to close the doors of one warehouse; a second group ran to close the other.

  Marco fixed the bino
culars to his eyes one last time, and then issued some new instructions to his men.

  In response, the soldiers jumped into the three Mazdas and left the scene in a hurry.

  “They’re going?” asked Daniel, confused.

  Marco checked that the warehouse doors were locked and then he too headed for his vehicle.

  Mac turned to Harry. “Please stay here with Rachel … Danny, Don … come with me.”

  “Dad?” concern contorted Rachel’s face. “Where are you going?”

  “To see if we can rescue any survivors.”

  “Even the General?” asked Donald.

  “Yes, Don,” Mac’s chin was tight. “Of course.”

  “Of course, sorry.”

  “Rache, please stay here,” said Mac. Rachel wasn’t going to argue.

  Then Mac, Daniel and Donald leapt into action, bounding down towards the lake, leaving the safety on the shrub-hideaway behind them.

  ***

  They covered the three hundred metres to the airstrip quickly; another two hundred metres lay between them and the banks of Lake Victoria.

  From here, they could see that only the tail of the plane remained above the water. Though still intact, the rest of the massive aircraft was submerged. On the tail was the General’s red insignia: an X formed by a sword and spear. And from the tail, a thin column of smoke spiralled into the African sky.

  The nose of the cargo plane lay on the bottom of the lake; the plane wouldn’t go under water completely. Lake Victoria is a shallow lake and the plane had come to rest less than seventy metres from the shore.

  Mac had only seen a small explosion above the water; no telling what happened underwater of course.

  But already two bodies, dressed in military uniform, had popped to the surface.

  On the other side of the plane’s tail, partially blocked from their sight, appeared to be a sack, or was it a parachute?

  Two men were alive hanging onto it, using it as a flotation device.

  As Mac, Daniel and Donald arrived at the water’s edge, breathless, it was clear the flotation device wouldn’t stay afloat very long.

  The men were sinking.

  ***

  Just as his Mercedes was about to disappear from sight, Marco stole one more look in the rear-view mirror of his car.

  The blur image of three men running towards the lake caused him to slam down hard on his brakes. The car came to a grinding halt.