Shadow Search. Don Pendleton
Читать онлайн книгу.
just happened to be passing?”
Jomo smiled. “I was on my way to see you.”
“About?”
“I was curious. Something made me want to know more about you.”
“Such as?”
“The real reason you are here in Tempala. I was just parking my car when I saw those two coming from the rear of the hotel dragging you along with them.”
“Lucky for me you have a curious streak.”
Jomo glanced at the bodies, then back at Bolan. “I think you’ve satisfied my curiosity here tonight. Especially why you are in Tempala.” Jomo stepped forward. “It wasn’t hard to overhear what you were saying. Now I’ll tell you something. If the president’s children have been taken, let me help. You’re going to need someone who knows the country. I was born on a farm and spent my childhood in the bush country.”
Bolan held back only for a moment. “What about these terrorists? Any thoughts on where they might take the children?”
“Out of the city, that’s for certain. Too many chances of being spotted if they stayed here. The children are known by the people. They would be recognized.”
“Sounds logical. Do they have a base? A central place they operate from?”
Jomo smiled. “My friend, this is Africa, not New York. The whole country is their base. Which is why they are hard to locate. These people live in the bush, move around as they have done for centuries. They can live off the land so they have no need for bases to store their food. They get water from the springs they know or from the water holes the animals use.”
“I get the message. So where do we start?”
“In the bush,” Jomo said.
“What about these two? Any thoughts?”
“I know the one you shot. Petty criminal. Native Kirandi. Been in prison a couple of times. Has a history of violence. He would have ended up shot sooner or later.”
“Any political leanings?”
Jomo shook his head. “He wasn’t the committed type. If you are asking if he was with the rebels I’d say no. Most likely he was hired to kill you because he was on the spot.”
“Pretty much what I heard.”
Jomo bent over the man and searched his pockets. He stood up again, waving a thick roll of banknotes. “Check Benjo. He’ll be carrying the same. He was a brother criminal.”
Bolan found a similar roll of bills. He threw it to Jomo.
“Plain and simple, Belasko. They were paid to make you disappear.”
AS THEY DROVE BACK to the hotel in Jomo’s battered Land Rover, Bolan told the sergeant about Karima’s kids. He knew he could trust Jomo, and he needed someone with Jomo’s knowledge on his side. The light was starting to fail by the time they reached the hotel. The hard heat of the day had begun to fade as Jomo parked in a dark corner of the parking lot. Bolan went in and up to his room. Nothing had been touched. His captors had even closed the door when they had left, taking him with them. They must have used the fire escape to avoid being seen. He took the shoulder bag from the wardrobe. Bolan stripped and pulled on his blacksuit and boots. He spent a few minutes in the bathroom doctoring his head wound. He packed his weapons and gear into the backpack, then filled the canteen with water from the fridge. Slipping his cell phone into one of his zippered pockets he left the room and made his way back downstairs, using the fire escape. He walked around the side of the building and rejoined Jomo.
The policeman took a look at the blacksuit. “Now you dress for business?”
“Something like that,” Bolan replied.
4
Jomo drove first to the area where Karima’s house was situated. He kept up a steady speed so as not to alert the security men stationed around the property.
“We should go that way,” he stated, pointing along the street. “Out of the city. If I had Karima’s kids that’s the way I’d go. Up country, into the bush. And I’d keep going until I was in rebel country.”
He kept driving, passing other houses, each with its own large grounds.
“They would go this way,” Jomo said. “To the places they know and where they can hide. And they will have friends out there. Their followers.”
Bolan studied the far-reaching spread of the empty plain. It was mostly flat land in the region, though there were mountains to the north and some hills in between. Between the plains and the mountain range, according to Jomo, there were great swathes of deep forest country.
“Give it your best shot, Jomo.”
The African nodded and set the Land Rover along the road. They traveled for a couple of miles until the last of the houses were well behind them. Then he slowed the SUV, stopping a couple of times to climb out and check the edge of the road. The third time he did it he beckoned for Bolan to join him. There was a full moon. It cast a pale light across the land, allowing them to see reasonably well.
“A four-wheel drive vehicle left the road here,” he said, indicating faint marks in the dust. He squatted on his heels, staring down at the tracks. “Since the kidnapping the weather’s been pretty calm. Not a lot of wind so these tracks haven’t been filled yet. I say they are two days old. No more.”
Bolan studied the tire marks. There was no doubt they had been made only a couple of days ago. Jomo’s evaluation rang true. If the tread marks had been any older they would have been obliterated by now. The edges were dry and starting to crumble, some of the upper rims starting to fall in.
“One good gust of wind and these are gone,” Jomo said.
“Heading straight north,” Bolan said. “How far to the cover of the forest?”
“Three days’ steady travel before they reach the hard growth. They would have to leave the vehicle then. Go on foot. The forest is too dense to drive through. That’s if they go that far. They might have a rendezvous point closer. Somewhere out in the bush.”
Jomo pushed to his feet and followed Bolan back to the Land Rover. They climbed in and Jomo started the motor, swinging the vehicle around and driving off the road. The tires sank into the dusty ground. Jomo pushed down on the gas pedal and the SUV surged forward. They drove for a while before Jomo spoke.
“I don’t think they’ll use the forest. More likely to stay on the plain and use the villages to the north. The tribes who back the rebels occupy that region.”
“You know them?”
Jomo laughed. “Know them? I’m from the Tempai tribe. Karima’s people. The rebels are Kirandi. The two tribes have been at each other’s throats for decades. Things don’t change as fast once you leave the big cities.”
As full darkness fell and the moon vanished behind clouds, Jomo switched on the headlights. The powerful beams cut through the gloom. Even in the dark Jomo seemed to know where he was going. The ride was bumpy. Land Rovers were not designed for smooth riding and every jolt and bounce was transmitted to Bolan’s spine. They drove at a steady speed for the next three hours. Bolan was silently grateful when Jomo rolled to a stop and cut the motor.
The night was alive with the chatter of insects and the deeper sounds of animals. There was little chance of concealing the vehicle out on the flat, featureless plain so they didn’t bother.
“It’s safer to sleep inside the vehicle,” Jomo said. “You want the front or the rear?”
“I don’t care,” Bolan answered.
From the equipment in the rear of the SUV Jomo produced blankets. He tossed one to Bolan. He also produced an SA-80 carbine, a short version of the British SA-80