PRIMAL Vengeance

Chapter 57



Entebbe, Uganda



Jonjo sat at a small table on the banks of Lake Victoria. He sipped an orange juice and watched a pair of cranes fly over the blue waters of Africa's largest body of fresh water. He marveled at the elegance of the two birds as they conducted a slow waltz across the sky.

The seventeen-year-old warrior had waited patiently for ten minutes but was starting to worry. The instructions from Mirza had been specific; meet him at the Andrieta Beach Hotel at 1400 hours on Tuesday. He glanced at his watch again. It was 1405. He pulled at the collar of his crisp white shirt and wriggled his toes in the stiff brown lace-ups. This was the first time in nearly five years that he was not wearing his fatigues and did not have a weapon close at hand. He had never felt more uncomfortable.

"You look very smart, Jonjo."

He turned to face the voice. Mirza was standing on the terrace of the resort, dressed in light slacks, a shirt and a linen jacket. He was carrying a small leather sports bag.

"Mirza, it is so good to see you." Jono jumped up, spilling the orange juice across the tablecloth. He grabbed his mentor's hand with his own, a broad smile painted across his face. "I was so glad to get your message and to know that Aden was OK."

"It is good to see you, my friend. I was worried I wasn't going to be able to pry you away from your war."

Both men sat down and Mirza waved a waiter over to deal with the spill.

"My war?" Jonjo said once the waiter had finished. "Your friends in the SAS have made it their war. It took them two days to split the SFF up and allocate all of my men to their different patrols."

"That's not a bad thing, Jonjo. Sometimes it's better to leave the fighting to the professionals."

"Yes, but what happens when they leave? That is the big worry. What if the Janjaweed come back? Then Doctor Hutton will have died for nothing." A sullen look crossed the youth's face as he mentioned the dead doctor.

"I don't think that's going to be a problem. Your country has plenty of oil. Once it starts flowing, the West will make sure nothing jeopardizes it. The biggest problem your country will face is having young men and women with the education to be doctors, teachers, engineers, even lawyers."

"Yes, we will need schools," said Jonjo. "And more people like Doctor Hutton to come and teach in them."

"What about you, Jonjo? What do you want to do now?"

"Me? I...I don't know. I cannot do anything other than fight, Mirza. It's all I know."

The waiter dropped off a bottle of water and Mirza poured them both a glass while he spoke. "You can learn, Jonjo. You can go to school and you can learn."

A smile spread across his face. "School? Me? Where?"

"America, Canada, Australia, wherever you like. The choice is yours."

"Really? But who will pay for this?"

"I can arrange a scholarship. But first I think we have some business to finish off, yes?"

Mirza reached into his jacket and dialled a number on his phone.

"Hello, Mr Mirza? Is that you?" a deep African accent answered the phone.

"Yes, any update on the location?" asked Mirza.

"No change," said Chua's agent. "He is alone as usual. The nurse left yesterday."

Jonjo watched the PRIMAL operative with a look of curiosity.

"Very good. I will be there soon." Mirza terminated the call and turned to Jonjo. "There's someone I want to take you to see." He placed a few notes on the table to cover the water, picked up his bag and they walked across the lawn and into the lobby of the hotel.

"Where are we going?" Jonjo asked, following Mirza.

"You'll find out in a moment. Tell me, Jonjo, what do you think you would like to study?" Mirza changed the subject as they crossed the lobby and entered the car park.

"I want to be a doctor."

"I think you will be a fine doctor," Mirza said as he unlocked a white Landcruiser and they drove out from the hotel. They passed a lush green golf course and the prestigious Windsor Lake Victoria Hotel.

"It's very nice here," said Jonjo. "Maybe one day Juba will be like this."

A few more blocks and the neighborhoods had changed, the buildings becoming poorer. They pulled into a street filled with single-story fibro houses and parked the Landcruiser by the side of the road.

Before they exited the vehicle Mirza pulled a suppressed Berretta PX4 from his bag and cocked it. He pulled out a second identical pistol, handing it to Jonjo.

"Who are we here to see?" asked the SFF warrior as he took the handgun.

"An old friend."

They approached one of the cheap houses, and without pausing, Mirza kicked in the flimsy door, his pistol held at the ready. Systematically he cleared the rooms of the bungalow: first the kitchen, then the living room and finally the bedroom. They found their target in bed.

Garang stared up at them with hollow eyes. "I knew you'd come," he croaked. "Nobody gets away from the CIA." The former SFF commander's right hand was missing; all that remained was a stump wrapped in bandages. The wound inflicted by Bishop's exploding phone had obviously turned septic. His body was still trying to fight off the infection.

Jonjo raised his pistol, pointing it directly at the face of the man he once idolized. Tears welled up in his eyes. "You cheated us, Garang. You betrayed us and now Doctor Hutton is dead."

Mirza stood silently watching.

The gun in Jonjo's hand shook. "Why did you do it? Why, Garang? Why?"

"I...I didn't think it would end like that," Garang said. "She wasn't supposed to be there. It was the only way. We could never have beaten them."

"But we did. We won." Jonjo wiped the tears from his face with his hand. He turned to Mirza. "I can't do it. I'm sorry." He lowered the pistol and left the room.

"Where's the money?" asked Mirza.

"Under the bed," replied Garang. "It's yours. Just please don't kill me."

Mirza grabbed the aluminum attaché case from under the bed and lifted his Beretta.

It hissed once and the round drilled a hole through Garang's forehead. His eyes glazed over and blood leaked down his face.

"We always pays our debts," Mirza said. With that the PRIMAL Operative left the house.

"What now?" asked Jonjo as they drove off in the four-wheel drive.

"You will go to school and become a doctor. There will be a scholarship that will pay for your education."

"Is there enough money for others to do the same?"

"Perhaps."

"Then I would like to go to school in Africa with other orphans of war."

"That is good. People like you are the only way your country will rebuild, Jonjo. People willing to forgive, forget and help others."

"And what about you? Will I see you again?"

Mirza smiled. "Of course. I'll visit when I'm in this part of the world. There's still plenty of work to be done here."