Zulu Project

CHAPTER 1

A HIDDEN AIRFIELD SOMEWHERE IN

THE CONGO

T WO YOUNG STRONG healthy looking black men and one very fat white man are loading wooden boxes onto a large cargo plane that has seen better days.

Well the two black men are doing all the work while the fat man is busy taking notes. One of the men stops what he is doing and says to his companion. ‘Mahammad man, I need to take a leak, chill out till I come back man but keep your eyes on the prize; we don’t need any complications at this stage of the game, and don’t you go smoking that joint till we have this plane loaded and in the sky, then we can sit back and I will smoke it with you and we can have a sky party,’

Jonah says to him. ‘Okay man but this fat honky guy is useless, won’t even talk man and the way he’s watching me man is scary, so hurry up man and don’t do what you did the last time out,’ Jones says to him coldly.

Mahammad the elder of the two said to him. ‘What you talking about man?

‘What did I do last time? His friend replies saying. ‘You fell asleep on the job man, I had to load the plane on my own, yeah I can laugh now but it wasn’t funny at the time, two hundred heavy cases of bananas man I almost blacked out with the heat man,’

Mahammad laughs and says.’ Don’t worry man, I won’t fall asleep and just make sure you or that guy whoever he is, don’t either, for this time there are no bananas but widow makers and that means big money… man, . . . big money,’

Then he goes off to do what’s required and Jonah sits down on a wooden crate and takes out a joint and lights up then decides to take a leak himself and walks round to the bushes at the rear of the plane leaving the cargo door wide open and no one sees the young dark haired and bearded African American creep up and slip inside the cargo bay and hide behind some large wooden boxes. The fat man had gone to fill out the departure documents via the man with the AK47 waiting to be paid take off money.

John Gerald O’ Shaughnessy six foot two thirty four years old and still in great shape for someone that doesn’t exercise any more.

Well not since the Dublin marathon in 2007 when he fell down after nearly bursting his heart running like a man possessed; he was of course running from a man that was possessed; a man with a gun.

Well he was working undercover and running from the man he was keeping an eye on but well that man a fellow American, didn’t like be spied on him being a big wig in the American Embassy, seemingly organising the selling of guns to the IRA or any other group that had the money to pay. That man to this day was never caught.

So he sent someone to sort Johnjo out the hard way like they have a habit of doing in Dublin Ireland. Yes he fell down whist running but not from his lack of exercise but well he fell down because he had been shot in the back.

Used to be a great well he thought he was a great basket ball player but that was another life time ago in his younger days when he lived in Stockton up near Washington where he served his time as a young gofor in the Post.

Now living in the big Apple and better known to his friends and associates as Johnjo; a reporter or some repute for the New York Times and he was here in the Congo working undercover on a story about the United States Government Embassy man supplying rebels of the Fundamentalist African party with arms in a bid to overthrow the New Congress and Freedom party that came to power thanks mainly through the bullying tactics off its henchmen, some things never change. Freedom will find a way to the fore but normally only after thousands of people dying and tens of thousands maimed and they mostly being innocent civilians.

Killing and hanging was the order of the day with mutilations a common occurrence and the ordinary man or woman in the street knew that if they didn’t cast a vote a certain way then the henchmen and their ‘new way of living’ was about to pay them a visit usually in the dark of night when no one was watching.

It was their way or no way of life.

Natural resources were been shipped out of the country with alarming speed and the minerals and wealth of the diamond mines were been harvested like never before with the local men having been replaced with outsiders from another country.

Death and destruction was used at any given time to keep the locals from rebelling with night raids into every village for a twenty mile radius.

Kidnapping children and turning them into child soldiers was commonplace and many parents had to send their children away to some relative in the city as soon as they reached seven or eight years of age.

Of course the cities were every bit as volatile and dangerous as the villages but at least there they had some kind of chance of reaching adulthood.

That was two weeks ago and now here he was stowing away on the first plane he could because he had gotten word of something really big going down in the northern states of Africa.

Moomba to be precise and the taking hostage of some very important men including the President of the United States only precious son Theodore; Somehow and lucky for him the men that took him didn’t know who he was yet and well if they were to find out then all the trouble that was now taking place on the African Continent would look like a tea party if anything untoward happened to him the American Presidents only precious son.

Back at the airstrip the plane was revving up its two small engines for take-off and thankfully no one had spotted its uninvited passenger hiding in the cargo hold until that was a little after the plane took off and the pilot noticed that load was heavier than normal and when he sent Jonah to check the cargo he found O’ Shaughnessy hiding behind one of the boxes.

‘We have a stowaway here captain; do you want me to throw him out?’ Mohammed had joined him and between the pair of them dragged Johnjo to the front of the plane where the captain took one look at him and said. ‘Well bless my golden balls, if it isn’t the great Johnjo O’ fucking Shaughnessy; New York Times, reporter per excellence, what the fuck are you doing on a little plane like this one in this part of the world?

‘Surely you have bigger fish to fry?

Johnjo replied. ‘Sweeney Todd, you old rascal you, thought you were long dispatched to that great airline in the sky, Christ you look like you have been, what’s up with you?’

The captain said to him. ‘You heard half right, went down with cancer of the colon, tell you man you don’t want no one and I mean no one poking about up there.

Because sure as hell they’re going to find something you don’t want to know about, gave me six months to live; fuckers were wrong though should have taken their bets on me not making it, these fucking jungle doctors think they know it all, still using motherfucking leeches, had to get a flame thrower to get the little bastards out of my ass. My your going a little grey around the ears life’s little tell tale signs of heavy going yeah? Johnjo nodded in agreement and ther captain went on to say.

‘Life is sure no fucking bowl of cherries but still here I am, despite all those doctors telling me otherwise, still flying although the weed is a big help, especially flying this high, always had me head in the clouds even when I was young, what you doing up here in the heavens with yours truly and don’t say you just dropped up to say hello?’ Then he quickly added.

‘Well I’m here for the money man, why are you? Johnjo winked at the captain and the captain nodded to the two men and they went back into the hold and had a joint.

‘Something real big is happening here man, something even bigger than that last fiasco with the Russians; remember last year, when they tried to supply the Syrian’s with the M03 anti missile missiles? The captain nodded yes as Johnjo went on.

‘Top secret, but I’ve been gifted a pearl of wisdom by a close friend in the AIC and am on my way to there as we speak man, Moomba not the big city but a little village somewhere nearby called Songhai but called by the locals for some strange reason Liberty.

That city or town or whatever the hell it is going to become the focus of the whole world, that is… if only half of what I’ve been told is true,’

The Captain asked him. ‘And what is this world breaking news you have been told is ‘true’?’

Johnjo replied. ‘That’s just it, can’t dare tell you until I know for certain the Intel is good, all I can say is that it is earth shattering and could bring down a lot of top people here in Africa and leave a shit trail all the way to the US White House.

I heard this little ship was heading west so I hopped onboard and well I throw myself on the captains mercy,’ his old friend said to him.

‘We are on our way to Juppe a small but very significant mining village just outside Wando south of the big city as it happens although how you found that out is beyond me, then again you are a private investigator on the QT are you not?

‘When you’re not sluming it as an alleged reporter that is, but go on give me a clue?

‘That will help make up for your fare’

Johnjo said to him. ‘I will tell you this much Captain Bilko, someone out here has gone and taken someone out there that belongs to a very powerful family in the states and if someone out here as much as harms a hair on this someone head then that someone had better watch out or we’ll be seeing another smash and grab raid like we did in Pakistan when a certain Mr big wig in Al-Qaeda lost his life, only more so, sorry but that’s all I can say at the moment otherwise I may as well go home now and retire,’

The captain said to him. ‘But you can tell me, I can keep a secret you know that?

‘We’ve been friends for year’s man, and it you don’t mind me saying so, you are a little on the fat side, what you weigh sixteen seventeen stone?’

Johnjo just nodded his head to the right and when the captain looked in the glass of his cockpit he could just about make out the shape of a man’s arm at the other side of the inner dooran arm with a heavy gold chain on it. Half an hour into the journey that very same arm with the very heavy gold bracelet attached to it after trying unsuccessfully for ages to make a call but finally did and was talking to someone more important than himself.

In a rebels camp hidden deep in the jungle of Cavetto a black man of giant proportions was listening to his friend on the airplane telling him of what he had just heard from the New York reporter and the giant of a man said to his friend on the plane that there would be a good reward for him for passing on such important information.

Then the giant of a black man that is called Goliath for some strange unknown reason called two of his men over and said to them calmly and soberly even though he had been drinking whisky straight from the bottle.

‘There is a plane coming over this way soon, its green and white and has something like an Irish flag on its tail, take it down, but we don’t want it landing right here, take it out but not totally out, we want it to land somewhere near, but not too near or too far, you get me? ‘I repeat don’t make me drive too far or walk too far or you will be the ones taken out, do you get me men?’

The two men nodded fervently and one of them the skinny one with every rib on show said. ‘Leave it to us boss, we’ll hit the flag dead centre and he’ll have to come down somewhere close, hopefully it will land in your back garden,’

Well Goliath wasn’t happy with that smart remark and gave the fellow a mighty smack across the head with a tree branch he used like a two by four and the poor man fell down dead with his skull cracked wide open.

‘Anything else?’ he asked the other man who just bowed and ran to get a replacement fellow to hold him steady as he had the bad habit of shaking a lot while he aimed the rocket launcer that fired the RPGs at the plane that was flying lower than normal due to its extra passenger that promised himself that when and if he got home he was going on a diet but hopefully not a crash course just nice and steady unlike that smoking rocket that was heading straight for the plane.

‘RPG’

He shouted as the tail got hit and the plane lost all sense of direction and height and began to spin like a spinning top with black smoke filling the cargo hold.

‘We’re too heavy, throw out some of that hardware,’ the captain yelled to Jonah and Jonah went back to the cargo hold and had a good look around before saying to the fat man.

‘What do these crates weigh would you know?

The fat man shakes his head from side to side and says. ‘No, wouldn’t have a clue, but this stays where it is no one and I mean no one is touching this shit’ Jonah then says to him.

‘Right let’s get this one here, one of ours you notice, let’s get it out of here and off this piece of shit or we’re all going down for a rumble in the jungle.’ The fat man helps him move the smaller box then stands by the door and that was all Jonah was waiting for as he said to the fat man who was smoking a joint.

‘Give us a drag of that?

Then as he was reaching over for it he lashed out and hit the fat man full on the nose and he fell backwards out of the plane to the ground below. The plane lifted a little after that but only a little as the tail was blown to pieces there was no way in hell it could stay in the air.

As the plane came down out of the bluey grey African sky Johnjo was planning on jumping when it got a little closer to the ground or if it passed over a lake or river and as the captain battled to keep the plane from smashing into the ground Johnjo said to him.

‘Where about’s are we, do you know?’ the captain replied. ‘You don’t want to know if this is where I think it is, then we will be really fucked both literally and physically,’

Johnjo said to him. ‘Oh I don’t like the sound of that can you hold her steady while I try to jump?

‘We’re still a little on the high side, can you bring her down a bit?’ the captain looked at him and said.

‘Are you shitting me man?

‘This baby has her twisted wired up mind made up, she’s going down when she’s good and ready and looking at those instruments this baby is fucking ready to go down, so if you do jump make sure your not jumping into a lions fucking den cos this place is full of wildlife and I’m not talking about those hungry human bastards down there, anyway good luck you jammy bastard,’

So when he saw a river below Johnjo made sure he had his haversack with him and then he closed his eyes and jumped into the water and even splashing around trying to swim was useless until he could hear the sound of crocodiles lurching into the water each side of him.

So he instantly became a champion swimmer and swam like the devil and got up out of that watery grave and made for the trees that hopefully would hide him from those that would kill him if they knew why he was here in Africa in the first place.

And someone did know; that is why he had been shot out of the sky and now here he was running in this jungle and probably even end up fighting for his very life.

They were searching for him the moment he laid his feet on dry land. They knew who he was and that something big was going to happen and they wanted to know what he knew and where he was so he ran for his life into the jungle that was getting denser by the minute.

He didn’t know who ‘they’ were but he wasn’t taking any chances or waiting around to find out.

So he ran and ran until he could run no more so up the tallest tree he could find and waited there till it got dark then and only then did his heart slow down enough so he could just about manage to fall asleep.

However it was not his tree that he chose to sleep in but a she leopard’s and when she came home to roost for the night she wasn’t at all happy about the smelly African American sleeping on her favourite branch.

Still he did look fat and juicy so she moved up closer to take a look and licking her lips thinking that this was Manna from heaven she crept up as slowly as she could.

It was only for the fact that Johnjo had a knee jerk in his sleep that caught the leopard under the jaw with his right foot and sent her flying downwards into the dark night sky that woke him up and fearing how close he had come to being some wild cats supper he could not go back to sleep at all.

Back at the base camp the captain was been put through the mill. He had a broken nose and his eyes were only short of popping out of his head when Goliath hit him across the face again and said.

‘Where is he?

The captain couldn’t say, one; because he didn’t know and two; because his jaw was broken in two places but this giant of a man didn’t seem to realise that.

‘Where is this reporter man that was with you in the plane?

‘I can do this all day long but then looking at your poor unfortunate face I don’t think you will last another hour, so tell me where he is going then I will go get the doctor for you and you can sleep the rest of the night away in a warm bed yeah?’

Sweeny Todd wasn’t falling for that old line but managed to say to him slowly and painfully. ‘He was… a stowaway… on my plane, it wasn’t even me… that found him but… another man, ask him and he will tell you what I say is true, ask him, dam you?’

Another hard slap across the face and more spilt blood and broken teeth and shitty underpants but the big man wasn’t letting go.

‘I would ask him,’ the giant black man said to him holding up the big gold chain bracelet that Jones used to wear. ‘If I could bring him back to life, for you see my little white and red faced piece of shit, he has smoked his last joint fucked his last homo.

But not before telling me that that reporter follow is an old friend of yours, see… the poor man ended up with a skinny tree trunk up his back passage, ouch, not a nice way to go.

Now the other man, Mohammad, not the brightest spark in the world fell straight into a crocodiles open jaws while it was sunbathing on the side of the river, and made the big croc sneeze, poor man… bitten in two, so you see captain, all I have is you; and you are going to tell me where that man is heading, and the reason he is heading there, then you can go have a long long sleep, savvy?’

And then that’s what happened. Captain Sweeny Todd as he was well known amongst the high fliers of good times past fell into the long long sleep of death.

The big man was furious that the captain had died without answering his questions.

The big black man was thinking out loud.

‘Where would a reporter of some significant importance apparently be heading now?

‘If he went north to Gabon no… too far away so don’t think so, if he went west Kouilou, nothing there but poor starving people; east the Ivory Coast; maybe anyway he can’t be too far away; we will just pick up his trail then he’s all ours; he is at this very moment somewhere not too far from here and maybe he is even lost in this vast jungle of life and death and what was it he knew that made him risk his own life and that of his very good and old time friend the captains?

‘Where the fuck could he be heading?

‘Saga up north… maybe, must be something of real importance?

‘Right only one way to find out’

Then he gathered up a good handful of fierce looking fighting men and went searching for the reporter of some importance.

Apparently a famous reporter of some considerable substance in the big wide world of scandals and cut throat journalism in the dog eat everything press.

The only thing about using many men is that they make a lot of noise. This group were no exception as they slashed their way through the thick undergrowth searching every little depression in the earth where a man could lie low.

Johnjo was in the trees waiting for the men to pass so he could double back and head for the coast and hopefully get a boat from there to Macau.

Goliath was speaking to someone on the mobile saying stuff like. ‘But boss that plane was full of American guns and ammo, who the fuck buys American guns these days?

‘No, we haven’t caught him yet but we will, I know you don’t want him killed until we know why he’s here and what he is up too, I know all that boss, I’m not stupid… no now I never said you called me stupid boss, I was just saying… ok, okay… will do that.

Don’t worry boss he can’t be far away… he has to be only half an hour or so in front of us, it’s just this thick bush we have to go through, a Rhino could be hiding in there and we wouldn’t see or hear it until it had its horn up someone asshole, don’t worry, we will find him and soon, yes… yes talk to you later boss, bye,’

Then hangs up and says. ‘Fucking asshole, doesn’t know his city from his fucking jungle,’ then calling one of his men over says to him.

‘Hey Muja… come here and tell me something little man? Muja comes running over and stands a good six inches below the giant’s shoulders and looking up at him with those deep dark eyes asks.

‘What is it you want boss?’

Goliath looking down on him says. ‘Tell me Muja what I am longing to hear now, some good news man… now don’t spare the pain, are we close to catching his man?

‘We live here and know this jungle inside out yet we can’t find a fucking man in those fucking bushes, he is a stranger and he can hide his sorry ass from us natives, now why is that Muja?’

CHAPTER 2

TWO MONTHS EARLIER

O N THE CRUISE ship The Atlanta some very important people were sitting at the captains table. The main one been one Mr Theodore Balem Saleem; precious son of the President of the USA.

Travelling incognito with members of the AIC and also with him was his young girlfriends brother John Garcia and not even the captain was aware of how important one his guests happens to be as the son of the most important man in the world that never craved or courted recognition unlike his father.

As the young man never courted the limelight not since his childhood days as his father the most important man in the world gave in to his wishes at the tender age of fourteen telling the American pubic he was away in College studying for his Masters degree in Anthropology.

Young John Garcia had gotten word to Theodore telling him that his sister Joanna had gone and got herself pregnant and as he the President’s son spent the whole of the last siesta with her then logic would have it that he was the father of John’s sister’s child.

Theodore been the gentleman he is had to come and talk with his lover and see if she was in need of anything. Beside he loved her and didn’t want to leave her alone at this most important time in her life.

Of course his father the President the most important man in the whole world knew nothing about what was going on only that he had gone Africa to visit a friend and of course he had plenty of company although they kept in the shadows not wanting to attract attention to who he was as many a terrorist would love to get their hands on such a prize.

And so as the Atlanta cruise ship sailed up along the coast of Muanda on one of the many planned trips ashore to visit the many dozens of little tropical islands dotted along the coastline. Theodore and his shadowy crew take such a trip and everything went swimmingly until they rounded the coastal town of Moomba where they were hijacked by Liberian pirates and taken prisoner.

Not that t the passengers and crew were worth anything in the pirates minds but it was a way of gaining entry onto the worlds stage to barter for the passengers but it was the Atlanta that was the true prize and taking the ship hostage and demanding a huge ransom for its safe return.

So now the undercover men all six of them were all over the place having been caught off guard and they scrambled to know what to do next.

They were in no position to do anything what with the pirates armed to the teeth with AK 47 and RPGs. The ship was easily taken and the captain was ordered to turn about and head to a secret man made port in Muanda where they would anchor and wait the owner’s response to a ransom of ten million US dollars. The sea cruiser the most up to date ship on the seas and she was worth maybe twice that.

The owners didn’t respond the way the hijackers expected and soon it was all over the news that the ship had been taken by Muandan pirates and TV crews came from every civilised country as the last time such a thing happened the ship ‘The Sea Adventurer’ was blown up and hundreds of people lost their lives and the pirates got away scot free fleeing into the vast Congo territory. Theodore and the men captured were held in a locked cabin of a small fishing boat off the Muandan coast and every few hours a plastic water bottle was lowered down via a small hole obviously cut out of the floor for such a purpose.

Bananas were sent down this same way and the heat in the little cabin was almost unbearable but no one seemed to care or we’re strictly ordered not to open the door for anyone but the pirate leader himself.

There was a half filled water bucket in the corner the men had to use to empty their bowels and needless to say the stench was unbearable but they just had to put up with it.

Embarrassing but not life threatening.

On the second day of captivity one of the men fabricated an illness and it was only after constant shouting and roaring that he was taken up and giving some air while the two pirates guarding him went and got him a doctor or at least someone with medical knowledge to come and sort him out.

Only thing was they thinking he was very ill took their eye off the ball and when the chance came for an escape he took it by simply sliding into the water and swam up along the coast and escaped.

One of the pirates got himself shot for been so neglectful but at least now one of the good guys had got away to tell the tale of where they were and how they were being treated which was terrible and inhumane. You wouldn’t treat a dog the way the men were treated.

Still it was to take another two weeks before word got back home to the White House.

CHAPTER 3

WASHINGTON DC TWO WEEKS LATER

I N THE OFFICE of the Secretary of State on a fine sunny morning a man in a black suit knocked on the Secretary’s door and was hollered at to come in.

Sitting at the large red mahogany desk the Secretary of State a tall blond man with a soft almost womanly complexion said to the man in black who was an African American middle aged with a slight stutter no not slight but a terrible stammer. ‘This better be good news Michael, better be good news, or somebody’s fucking head is going to roll, come on take a seat… let me hear it?’

The man in black with a bad stutter said to him. ‘Good nnn… news and bad nnn… news, so which do you want ffff… first Mr Secretary?

The man behind the desk gave the man opposite the evil eye that told him the bad news first so when the man in black told the Secretary of State about the President’s son been held captive his face went pure snow white in fact the exact same colour as his hair.

‘Are you telling me, Michael Mc eh, ma ma mac Mahon, that the son of the President of these here United States of America is been held captive by some fucking Muandan stinking fucking pirates?

‘You have got to be shitting me man, how could this happen?

‘I mean he has security men all around him, how the fuck did this happen?

The man in black told him all he knew then the Secretary of State asked him. ‘Okay, alright it is not MMmmmmm Muandan but Liberian pir pir pirates… calm down don’t papapa panic you say… now the good news and this better be good or someone’s fucking head is going to roll and it sure as hell won’t be mine, let me hear it slowly so I can take it in,’

The man in black told him. ‘Well sir, they… I mmmmm… mean the pppppppa pirates don’t know who he is… eh… eh… eh… yet,’

The Secretary was on his feet banging his fist on the hard red mahogany desk saying to the man in black.

‘What am I going to tell the President?

‘Christ man how am I going to tell the President of the United States of America that some snotty fucking pirate with no ass in his pants and probably only one eye and a wooden leg… ah fuck this for a game of soldiers… how am I going to tell the President that they have his son, his only precious son, . . . captive in some fucking, well we don’t even know where he is do we?’

The man in black said. ‘Not yet… Mmmmmm… Mr… Mr Secretary but we have the finest mmmm… . men in the AIC the IBF and all those other ffffff… forces all out looking for him, I’m confident we will fffff… find him sir,’

The Secretary said to him softly. ‘Confident, you’re confident… that we will find him?

‘What makes you so confident pray tell me so I can go and tell the President that you are confident we will find him soon, tell me why you’re so confident Michael ma ma mc Mahon?’

The man in black said to his boss. ‘Bbbbbbbb… because one of our mmmmm… . men has escaped and is… so I’m told… oooooo on his way to a sssss… safe house in Pretoria as we ssss… speak sir, barring him falling under a train or fffff… falling into a river and drowning sir we should have his dddddd… . debriefing anytime now.’

The Secretary of State said to him. ‘I will give you guys till 08-00 hrs tomorrow if by then you have the President’s sons where a bouts then we might just manage to save my, well some of our jobs but… if not, then believe me when I say…’  The man in black cut in and said the last sentence in unison with the Secretary of State.

‘Heads are going to ffff fucking roll, yes sir I got that part okay, but dddddd… don’t wwww . . . . worry sir, I am ccccccc con fid… . ent… confident, we will ffffff… find him and bring him hhhhh… h… ho ho hom… . home ssssss… safe sir.’

The Secretary of State once more gave him the evil eye and said to him. ‘Don’t slam that door on your way down Mick.’

The man in black closed the door very gentle while the Secretary of State sat there and began to weep.

CHAPTER 4

OUT IN THE JUNGLE

G OLIATH CALLED MUJA over when he saw the way the little man with only two front teeth was searching the undergrowth. ‘What are you doing? He asked him.

‘You may as well piss on it doing it like that… that’s no way to search for someone, for one thing, your only half trashing with that machete, swing it man like you’d swing your dick in front of a beautiful woman man, if I were hiding in that grass you are the one I would want to come looking for me, give me that… now watch a master swinger at work,’

Then he trashed so hard he almost cut a decent sized stone in two and nearly broke his giant right hand. It was buzzing like a chain saw and took quite a few minutes to calm down even with him putting his throbbing hand in a barrel of cold water.

He was ranting and raving as he said to his little hobbit friend through clenched teeth and if looks could kill you you would be dead eyes.

‘Fuck man, see what you made me go and do? Christ almighty, go on keeping searching, that man can’t be too far away now, he must be getting tired, I’m fucking getting tired, catch that bastard so we all can go home and shag a chicken, another hour and the sun will go down.

Then I will have to call the boss and give him a progress report and I’m not looking forward to doing that, so get out there and catch me a reporter,’

Johnjo was sitting in a tree directly over him and he could see a slimy snake crawling along the branch he was sitting on. Goliath wasn’t in a hurry to move and Johnjo was almost wetting himself.

Closer and closer the snake slithered towards him and looking down at the big man’s huge shoulders he was tempted to just drop on top of him but that would only have been a temporary hallow victory so quietly as he could he climbed up another branch with the snake following him with its yellow slanted eyes trying to make up its mind whether to follow him and or maybe take a bite out of his ass or not.

Then when it stopped and looked down at the big man on the ground Johnjo saw his chance and flicked it with a long stick he found on the tree and it went up in the air and as the big man was turning his head to see what that hissing sound was it came back down and landed on his shoulders like a man’s winter scarf and the big man roared like a man possessed trying to unload the snake that seem to take a liking to him as it was hugging him so much. His black face was turning well blacker as the snake tightened its grip on the big fat man who was hollering as loud as he could under the circumstances.

‘Get it off me, get it off me you fuckers, get if off me or I will have your guts for a fishing line, you bastards’

As it was a poisonous snake not one man would come to his aid so he had to bite the bullet and just grab the thing by the head and twist and turn it this way then that until the snake was getting dizzy and loosened its grip slightly but enough so he could lift it and throw it as far away as he could.

Only as he was doing just that Muja was coming out of the bushes and it landed right on top of his machete and cut itself in two before his very eyes and even though it was dead and still moving he still screamed like a child and dropped his blood stained tool and ran back into the bush.

Johnjo managed to get some sleep and first light he was on his way northwest and finding it very hard going when he came to a small fishing village.

There were two man there talking and fixing nets when he emerged from the bushes and walked over to the small makeshift jetty.

‘Hello’ he said all smiling and beaming with confidence to make it look like he had just got lost.

It didn’t work for a second.

‘You that man that come from that plane yesterday?’ The smaller of the two asked.

Wow he thought these lads are sharp. ‘Well yes, plane fall from sky, pilot dead… and two… . others… dead, can you tell me… please… how to get to Indango d’ Owando airport?

The taller one about nineteen years old said to him.

‘Why are you talking like that man? We can understand English even though we’ve been brought up in the jungle.

He then said to Johnjo. ‘If you wait till noon then we can take you across the Moumbi river and you can catch a plane from there then another ferry to Gabon then a boat like this one and your there, will you come fishing with us?

Then we will take you across the river?

Something smelt fishy here he