Blood Gold in the Congo Page 14

  “Mom, this could be a turning point. Everyone told me Bodho would never permit a trial. Perhaps this is the start of change.”

  “Oh, you really are a fool,” Maya said. “Bodho called the trial because of what you said in that television interview. You’re not just a defense witness. You’re their star witness. When they find out you’re appearing for the prosecution, they’ll have you killed. The police will pick you up, and you’ll disappear off the face of the earth.”

  “Jack Costigan said the world is going to be watching. I don’t think they’ll try anything.”

  “No, no, no!” Maya shouted. “You haven’t lived there. You don’t know. Bodho doesn’t care what the rest of the world thinks.”

  “Joseph, Maya’s right. You don’t have to go. The UN must have enough evidence. Why do you have to go?” Frank asked, the food on his plate hardly touched.

  “It’s hard to explain. I thought the calling had gone, but when I read the law firm’s letter, it was like a message from God.”

  “Oh, shit! You just want to hear yourself,” Maya said, standing up. “Sorry for swearing, everyone. I’ve lost my appetite. I’m going to have an early night.”

  Michelle started to clear the table, and Moise went to do his homework. “When are you going?” Frank asked.

  “Wednesday, if I can get a flight. It’ll give me a few days to talk to the prosecutor.”

  “I’ll charter a jet.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’ll cost a small fortune. Besides, I’d rather not draw attention to myself.”

  “Don’t worry about the money. I’m sure plenty of private jets land at N’djili. No one will know you’re on the plane, but if you have to get out in a hurry, I don’t want you having to line up for a commercial flight. George will make sure your entry’s low-key.”

  “Dad, I know George is your friend, but I don’t like or trust him. He’s not coming with me.”

  Frank paused, knotted his hands together, and whispered, “I know what you did. George told me. Did you kill Zamenka too?”

  “I slipped up when I told George about those two thugs. They intended to rape Moise. And yes, I killed Zamenka. He murdered my mother and raped and murdered my sister. George had no right to tell you. You can see why I don’t trust him.”

  “No, Joseph, I can’t. He’s a good friend of mine, and if he hadn’t told me, he wouldn’t be much of a friend. He says they suspect you killed Zamenka. They’ll be watching you like hawks. Your mother and I will feel far better if George is with you. He knows them.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad. The answer’s no. I wonder who else he told.”

  “No one. He swore he hasn’t told anyone other than me.”

  “If only I could believe that. Don’t worry about a private jet. I’ll get a commercial flight. I can look after myself.”

  “You won’t compromise on George. I’m not going to compromise on the jet,” Frank said, jutting out his jaw. “And make sure you take at least ten thousand in cash. You never know whose palm you might have to grease.”

  On Wednesday, Maya didn’t go to college, Moise didn’t go to school, and Frank didn’t go to work. Along with Michelle, who had tears streaming down her cheeks, they were all at the airport to bid farewell to Joseph. Maya’s anger had been replaced with fear, and as they kissed, she whispered, “Please come back to me.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Moise clung to his leg saying, “Don’t go, don’t go.”

  Frank was outwardly stoic, but his gut was churning as he shook Joseph’s hand. “I’ve arranged some security for you,” he said. “Good luck.”

  “What? What have you done?” Joseph asked.

  “Don’t be angry.”

  “I have to go. I’ll see you in three weeks,” Joseph said, abruptly turning, fearing he too might start crying.

  He took the stairs to the jet two at a time, thinking it was a waste of money. A smiling flight attendant said, “Good morning, Mr. Muamba, the others have already boarded.”

  Jesus, if George Faraday’s on the plane, I’m throwing him off. “Thank you,” he growled, as he entered the main cabin.

  “Why so grumpy? I thought you’d be glad to see us.”

  “Chuck, Brett, what are you doing here?”

  “Once our cover was blown, our value fell through the floor, didn’t it, Brett?” Bennett laughed. “Your dad’s got a lot of influence. Someone from the Department of Justice strong-armed our boss, and here we are. We’re your unofficial bodyguards.”

  “Jesus,” Joseph cursed. “You can’t be with me.”

  “Settle down,” Kronk said. “You’ll never see us, and yeah, we won’t be able to go everywhere ya do. We know we’re not gonna get in the palace, but if they try to kill ya, it’s not gonna happen there. We’ll be in the places where they are likely to try. We won’t cramp your style.”

  “You know everything there is to know about me. Tell me what qualifies you as bodyguards.”

  Bennett winked at Kronk, grinned, and said, “We’re former SEALs. Does that meet your specifications?”

  “I thought so,” Joseph said. “I don’t need you. I can look after myself, but it’s obvious what I want doesn’t count. I’m going to appear as a witness. I’ll be safe in court. I don’t want you turning it into the last shootout at the O.K. Corral.”

  “That’d make me Wyatt Earp and him Doc Holliday.” Bennett laughed. “In case you’ve forgotten, you’d still be in that jungle in Katanga if it weren’t for us. Lighten up.”

  If I’m told to lighten up one more time, I’ll explode. “I wouldn’t, you know. I’d have crossed into Tanzania. But yes, you saved me a lot of time and trouble.”

  “On a lighter note, the message you wrote to my son was fantastic. He took it to school and showed the other kids. He was the envy of his class,” Bennett said.

  “You’ve got a wife and young son. Why aren’t you home with them? Why do you do such a dangerous job?”

  “Someone’s gotta stop the baddies. Isn’t that why you’re going back to the Congo? And don’t you have a fiancée and son?”

  “Fiancée? No, not yet, but I guess I know what you mean. It’s a calling.”

  Bennett laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far. It’s a job someone has to do, and we happen to be good at it. When you depart the terminal, you’ll be approached by a limo driver and asked whether Maya is well. You’ll reply, ‘She’s in excellent health.’ He’s one of ours and will be stationed at the hotel for your use.”

  “Jesus, how many of you are there?”

  “Just three.”

  Twenty-nine hours later, it was 3:00 p.m. Kinshasa time, and the captain informed them they’d be landing in an hour. Joseph switched his cellphone on and called the prosecutor’s office. Within a few minutes, he was speaking to Yuma Lidy, the prosecutor, who said he’d be pleased to see him at nine o’clock in the morning.

  CHAPTER 29

  ..................

  THERE WERE NO CHEERING CROWDS or red carpet when the Gulfstream landed. Joseph was relieved. The two Americans remained on the plane, saying they would catch up with him later. They had booked rooms on either side of him at the Memling.

  The Congolese driver standing next to the limo was gargantuan. “Is Maya well, sir?” he asked.

  “She’s in excellent health.”

  “Did you have a good flight, Mr. Muamba?” the driver said, holding the rear door open.

  “Jesus, you’ve got the deepest voice I’ve ever heard. Compared to you, George Clooney is a soprano,” Joseph said. “Call me Joseph. What’s your name, and how is it you’re working with Americans?”

  “Leon, and I’ve heard all the voice jokes a hundred times before. It’s better if I call you ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Muamba,’ sir. I will be on twenty-four-hour call for the duration of your stay. It is not unusual, and I often drive exclusively for foreign diplomats. My parents took me to the States when I was ten. I have a degree in economics and politics and a
post-graduate degree in computer science, and I’m fluent in six languages. I was with the CIA for ten years. I returned to Kinshasa a few years ago and own a limousine hire business. It’s the largest in the city.”

  “What a great cover for a spook,” Joseph said. “What made you come back?”

  “I’m surprised you would ask. The same reason you’re here. I love this country and feel sorry for the people. I thought I could make a difference, and I have, but it’s nothing compared to what you can do.”

  “Perhaps,” Joseph said. “Perhaps.”

  Yuma Lidy’s wood-paneled office was small and dusty. Crammed bookshelves as high as the ceiling concealed three walls. Stick-on notes, press clippings, and phone messages covered the fourth. Neatly arranged folders bound with pink ribbon covered the floor to the right of Lidy’s cluttered desk. A small window overlooked the street. Joseph sat down on a badly worn leather chair and studied the little gray-haired man sitting opposite him. “This is most irregular, Mr. Muamba,” he said. “You are listed as a witness for the defense. Does Mr. Banze know you are here?”

  “Let me explain, Mr. Lidy,” Joseph said, and then related what had occurred at the mine, the village, and in the jungle.

  “You’re going to go to court and tell the world the president lied and blackmailed you. You’re a brave man,” the prosecutor said, shaking his head. “If you appear as a defense witness and repeat what you’ve just told me, defense counsel will ask the court to treat you as a hostile witness.”

  “Hostile?”

  Lidy smiled. “Not in the way you are thinking, Mr. Muamba. If you don’t say anything to defense counsel before the trial, he will rightly expect your testimony to help his clients. When it doesn’t, he will treat you as hostile and do everything in his power to discredit you. He will tell the court you said you’d support the defendants, and your testimony is the antithesis of what you told him. You will be called a liar. He will use the interview with President Bodho to support his assertion and say your claim about the president blackmailing you is rubbish. He will keep you in the witness box for as long as he can and try to break you down.”

  “What are the options?”

  “I will notify Mr. Banze you are appearing as a witness for the prosecution. It will throw the cat among the pigeons. He will, of course, realize you are going to repudiate the comments you made in the television interview with the president. The only reason the president didn’t block the trial was that your testimony made it almost certain Colonel Gizenga and his soldiers would be acquitted. I’m going to enjoy this trial.”

  “I’m pleased. Who else do you have as witnesses?”

  “Some mine workers and villagers. We also have a friend of yours, Yannick Kyenge. He was my star witness before you appeared.”

  “Yannick. Can I see him?”

  “I’m afraid not. He’s appearing at significant risk. We have him at a hidden location, and he will remain out of sight until called. He’ll testify, and then we have to get him out of court before they arrest him. Colonel Donatien and his men have been hunting Yannick. They’re ruthless. Have you heard of Donatien?”

  “No, should I have?”

  “The plan is that after Colonel Gizenga is acquitted, he’ll be promoted to general, and take over the role performed by the late General Zamenka. Donatien will take Gizenga’s place in the hierarchy. He’s a dangerous man. The people are terrified of him. Don’t be surprised if he tries to dissuade you from testifying.”

  “I’m not worried. I’m not easily bullied. Can you call me as your first witness?”

  “Yes, but why?”

  “I want to sit through the whole trial. If you call me as, say, the fourth witness, I’ll miss the testimony of the first three. I want to hear everything.”

  “I understand, but I’ll ask you again. Why?”

  Joseph stared directly into Lidy’s eyes and said, “I don’t know, but it’s important. There is much I don’t know. I think this trial will provide some of the answers I’m looking for.”

  Lidy stood up. “I have a lot to do,” he said. “Can you come back tomorrow morning and I’ll take you through my examination? After we’re finished, we’ll go over what you can expect on cross-examination. You’re going to have to steel yourself. It will be a harrowing experience. On the positive side, you have made my day, Mr. Muamba. Thank you.”

  “Call me Joseph. One question before I go. Why are Boucher and Botha appearing before a military court? They’re not soldiers.”

  “Military courts here have the power to try civilians. It’s not unusual.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Watch your back,” the little man said. “When word gets out, some people are going to be livid. Ruthless people! What do you have planned for the rest of the day?”

  “Nothing much. I’ll go back to my hotel room and send some emails. Don’t worry about me. I can look after myself.”

  “Don’t underestimate what I said, Joseph. Please be careful. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Back in his hotel room, Joseph turned on his laptop. At last, he had some time to peruse the emails and the few documents Marc Boucher had saved. He hadn’t permanently deleted his emails, and there were more than one hundred thousand in the deleted items folder. Joseph knew the names of the real owners of the New Dawn Gold Mining Company were somewhere amongst those emails. Most of the exchanges were with the mysterious Thibault, but some of the emails were to and from suppliers, accountants, and lawyers. Joseph read them slowly, looking for a location, a bank, or a third party he could link to Thibault.

  He was crouched over his laptop, deep in concentration, when there was a pounding on his door. “Joseph Muamba, please open the door.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Colonel Donatien. I need to talk to you. Let me in.”

  God, that didn’t take long. I’d like to tell him to get lost, but that might not be wise, Joseph thought. He opened the door to see soldiers carrying machine guns on either side of a heavyset, smiling officer. “Welcome back to Kinshasa,” he said, extending his hand. “I am Colonel Donatien.”

  Joseph felt Donatien attempt to crush his hand but remained impassive. When Donatien realized his grip had had no effect, he eased the pressure. As he did, Joseph applied full force for a split second and watched the officer’s face contort in pain. “How can I help you, Colonel?”

  “There is a silly rumor going around that you’re testifying for the prosecution. President Bodho is quite disturbed. He is concerned about you. As you know, perjury is a serious crime. I told him the rumor was unfounded. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  One soldier had worked his way behind Joseph, the other was on his right, and Donatien was in front of him. “Colonel, you can tell the president I will be telling the truth. He doesn’t have to worry about me perjuring myself.”

  Donatien looked perplexed. “So your testimony will be no different than what you said in the television interview with the president?”

  “I will be telling the truth,” Joseph repeated.

  Donatien’s confusion quickly turned to anger. “Are you going to see Mr. Banze before the trial?”

  “I have no reason to.”

  “You are stupid!” Donatien shouted, his face only inches from Joseph’s. “You will not get bail after we charge you with perjury. You’ll languish in prison waiting for your case to come to trial – that’s if you’re lucky. Unavoidable accidents occur in prison, terrible accidents. You mightn’t even get to see the inside of the courtroom.”

  “You omitted to say I might hang myself,” Joseph said. “It’s a regular occurrence, isn’t it?”

  The soldiers pressed closer, eyes narrowed, and lips turned up in sneers. “You have a smart mouth. What are you even doing here? This is not your country. You’re an American. Go home, while you still can.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t, and you’d be wise to remember the United Nations, Greenpeace, and the rest of the world are going to be watching th
is trial. You might let the president know. It will look bad if one of the witnesses gets thrown in prison.”

  “You dare threaten the president. You are stupider than I thought.”

  Joseph pushed past the soldiers and opened the balcony door. “It’s starting to smell in here. I’m busy, Colonel. You can leave now. Close the door after you.”

  “We will meet again,” Donatien said. “I won’t forget today.”

  Less than a minute later, there was a light knocking on Joseph’s door. He flung it open, expecting to see Donatien.

  Instead, it was Chuck Bennett. “From now on, when you go out, one of us is going to be with you. Those pricks mean business.”

  “They won’t try anything while the trial’s going on.”

  “And here I was hoping Donatien was wrong when he called you stupid.” Bennett frowned. “If they get the chance, they’ll kill you, trial or no trial. Your problem is that you’ve been away far too long.”

  “You bugged my room?”

  “It’s for your own good,” Bennett said, brushing past Joseph to close the balcony door. “Don’t go out on the balcony, and keep the drapes drawn.”

  Joseph shut down the laptop just before midnight and was pulling back the covers on his bed when his cellphone rang. He scowled after glancing at the display and answered, “Hello, George. What I can do for you?”

  “Christ, what are you doing? Why didn’t you tell me you were going back for the trial? The Congolese are going crazy and threatening to cancel those deals. If the Chinese wrangle their way back into Prescott’s uranium project because of you, there’ll be hell to pay with the government. Why couldn’t you have stayed away? You think you can call their president a liar and get away with it? You’re mad! Your testimony’s gonna be worth diddly squat after they finish with you. They might even throw you in a cell, or worse.”

  “They’re bluffing. They’ve already done the Chinese over. They’ve got nowhere to go.”

  “Jesus! You’re wet behind the ears. The Chinese will soon forget what’s owed to them if they can get their mitts on that uranium. Alternatively, Bodho will leave it in the ground if he has to, or hawk it to the Japanese or French. You know nothing. Don’t forget, if things go awry, your father’s going to lose out big-time too.”