Dangerous Deception - A Short Story, Page 2

  He pondered her proposal several minutes. Then, with a heavy sigh, he said, “I’ll go along with you doing your story as long as there’s no danger to the others. Like I said, I’m responsible for everyone on this trip, including you.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I’m sure you probably can, but I won’t have the others at risk.”

  “They won’t be,” she promised.

  As he made his way toward the front of the plane to join the others, she stretched out on the sofa, continuing to keep her eyes on him. He was a handsome man. His dark locks of hair brought out the strong features of his face, from his narrow jaw line and clef in his chin, to perfectly groomed eyebrows and emerald eyes.

  Dressed in blue jeans, a white polo shirt, and cowboy boots, he seemed much too casual for a businessman. His appearance made her question if he was a self-made man or a trust fund baby who hadn’t grown up yet. Either way, he seemed to have an air about him that would make anyone take notice, including someone nursing a broken heart.

  Michael had been the love of her life, or so she thought. It wasn’t until she’d gotten to know the real man behind the image that she realized the horrible mistake she’d made. Both ambitious by nature, it wasn’t until she saw herself through his eyes that she hated the person she was turning into.

  Their assignment in Liberia had been an awakening to her in more ways than one. She had seen Michael for who he really was: a bloodthirsty shark that would do anything, or screw over anyone, to get a story. Afterwards, she had come to the decision she would do anything to prevent the same thing happening to her. Dewana was her restitution. She figured if she could document the atrocities and inform the world of what was taking place there the UN would be pressured to intervene. If not, countless more lives would be lost at the hands of two ruthless men who cared only about their own futures and the vast fortune they could acquire by stealing Dewana’s mineral resources.

  Chapter Three

  Gwen managed a couple of hours sleep before Jack announced they would be landing soon. Glancing out the oval window above the sofa, she could barely make out the lights along the coastline.

  Dewana was divided into four regions. Lerato, the capitol city, was located in the Western part of the country boarded by the Atlantic Ocean.

  After landing at the Airport in Lerato, the group was met by a young couple in their mid-twenties. They introduced themselves as Robbie and Kay Harrison, missionaries with the World Friendship Foundation. They were then led to an old white extended van.

  The couple talked nonstop as they gave a brief tour of the city. Judging from the lively nightlife along the main streets where several clubs were located, you would never know a war raged only miles away.

  “We’re so excited about the new project. I can’t begin to tell you how badly it is needed,” Kay commented as she held Evelyn’s hand across the isle from her.

  “Are you talking about the orphanage?” Gwen queried.

  Kay nodded. “Along with new training workshops for young adults, so they can become self-sufficient.”

  “Incase you haven’t been warned, it isn’t advisable to travel outside the city limits. Pockets of rebel forces are scattered throughout the country,” Rob advised, glancing over his shoulder.

  “How long have you two been here?” Gwen asked.

  “Going on two years,” Kay answered. “We first came over with our church’s youth group in high school. We fell in love with the place immediately. People are so friendly.”

  “Are you getting a lot of refugees to the area?”

  “Oh yes, from as far away as Chizoba. The destruction in that area is unimaginable.”

  Gwen fell silent. Some of the contacts she had made in Liberia had been from the area of Chizoba. They’d spoken of unspeakable crimes: widespread deliberate and arbitrary killings of civilians, torture, including rape and deliberate amputation of limbs, and abduction and forced recruitment of large numbers of people, including children. Survivors of some of the worst human rights abuses known to man, they had sought refuge in the small village of Kirabo, only to be massacred months later when the RFAGC rebels learned they had been talking to reporters.

  A short while later they stopped in front of a large three-story cement structure enclosed by a 7-foot wall with matching yellow paint, and it was announced they had arrived at their destination.

  Gathering her backpack, she scrambled out of the van behind the others and followed them to a large wooden gate. Inside the courtyard, there was a large cooking pit with stacks of wood positioned nearby and several metal chairs scattered throughout the yard. Following them up the walkway they came to a large metal door and were met by an elderly gentleman wearing tattered khaki pants and a bright red shirt.

  “This is Omar, he is our groundskeeper and jack-of-all-trades,” Robbie informed as the old man held the door open for them. “The bottom two floors are designated living quarters for our orphans, along with a kitchen and dining area on the first floor. Our living quarters are located on the top floor. There are two apartments, each containing two bedrooms, kitchens, and living areas. We did some shopping at the market earlier to stock your kitchen, but if there’s something else you want just let Omar or myself know and we can pick them up for you.”

  “How many children do you have at the present time?” Celeste asked.

  Shocked, Gwen glanced up at the woman. It was the first time she had spoken.

  As if sensing her surprise, Jack snickered.

  “We have twenty-eight, many three to a room. It’s a bit cramped, but at least they are off the street, and they don’t seem to mind.”

  “Do they attend school?”

  “At the present time most of the schools are closed down, but Kay works with those who were lucky enough to have attended in the past.”

  “Most parents can’t afford to send their children to school which is why the illiteracy rate is so high,” Jack told them.

  Gwen heard giggles and turned to look behind her. She caught a glimpse of two little black heads before they disappeared behind a closed door.

  “Do you like kids?”

  Gwen glanced up at Jack’s question and met his warm smile. “Doesn’t everybody?”

  Though she hadn’t thought about it lately, she’d always hoped for a big family. With three brothers and a sister, she had never lacked for friends growing up as they were all within a year or two in age.

  “Come on and I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.” Robbie led them up two flights of stairs.

  Their apartment consisted of two modest bedrooms; a parlor with large overstuffed cushions as furniture; a kitchen with a gas stove, small refrigerator and sink; and a bathroom with a shower stall. The toilet consisted of a hole in the floor with cement on each side to position your feet on. After its use, she was told; you were to manually flush it by pouring water down it. Though the accommodations were meager, she had seen worse.

  Since Jack would be staying in the Harrison’s guest bedroom, Gwen would be sharing a bedroom with Celeste. After agreeing to meet with the Harrison’s for breakfast at seven-thirty they bid each other good night and went to unpack.

  Gwen and Celeste’s bedroom consisted of two metal beds with a single dresser positioned between them. An assortment of religious pictures hung on pale blue walls.

  “Do you mind taking that bed?”

  Gwen followed her gaze to the bed directly below the only window in the room. “Fine with me.” She dumped her stuff on top of the gray bedspread. A cool ocean breeze blew through the open window, along with the sound of a barking dog.

  Gwen turned to the three-drawer dresser and glanced over at Celeste. She had twice as much clothes. “You can have the extra drawer. I’m use to living out of a suitcase.”

  “Thank you.”

  Gwen left her jeans in the suitcase and placed her cotton knit skirts and blouses, along with her undergarments, in the drawer. Though a large Muslim society she knew t
he majority of the people living in Lerato were casual dressers, evidence of heavy American and British influence.

  Once her clothes were put away Gwen grabbed her equipment bag and took out her camcorder. Leaning back against the wall, she aimed the camera at her roommate who was still busy putting away her things.

  “So Celeste, tell me why you have traveled half way across the world to the lovely country of Dewana?” As the woman turned to face her, Gwen adjusted the focus. The expression she saw wasn’t one of amusement.

  “Stop it.”

  “Oh, come on. Tell the people why you’re risking your life to come to a country embellished in war and poverty?”

  “I’m serious, Gwen. I don’t want any part of this goodwill mission so turn it off”

  “Relax, it’s not on.” Gwen lowered the camera as Celeste sank onto her bed.

  Long locks of brown hair framed a taut, pretty face.

  Gwen had seen that look often in the field. She was scared out of her mind. “I’m sorry, I was just fooling around. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I shouldn’t even be here. I have a husband and children at home.”

  “You came to persuade your sister to leave, right?”

  “Yeah. I promised our folks I’d at least try. I doubt she’ll leave though. Candice loves it here. She’s obviously a lot braver than I am.”

  “How many kids do you have?”

  “Two. Ethan is seven and Angela is five.” She removed her billfold from her purse and held it open for Gwen to see a photo of the siblings.

  “They have your likeness. Ethan looks a little ornery.”

  “Oh, he is. He loves to terrorize his little sister.” She glanced over at Gwen’s hands. “I take it you’re not married?”

  “No.” And she hadn’t given marriage much thought until this last year. The more she took stock of her life the more she realized how tired she was of living out of a suitcase.

  “Sorry I snapped at you. It’s just... I really don’t want to be here.”

  “We’ll be all right, Celeste. I doubt the fighting will ever breach the city limits.”

  She gave Gwen a brief nod before she stood and walked back to the dresser.

  Gwen left her to her unpacking and cleared off her own bed, then climbed between the sheets. She fell asleep to the sound of distant gunfire.

  Chapter Four

  Gwen woke to the persistent crowing of a rooster right outside her window. Tossing back her sheet, she glanced out into the predawn light to find the culprit sitting on the cement wall below. She turned over and was about to cover her head when she noticed the empty bed across the room. It looked as if it hadn’t been slept in.

  She pulled on the pajama bottoms she had discarded during the night because of the heat, and walked barefoot to the bathroom. Finding it occupied, she continued on to the kitchen and found Tom, Evelyn, and Celeste sitting around the kitchen table already dressed.

  “What are you people doing up so early?”

  Tom stood and offered her his chair. “We were just discussing how you could sleep through all that racket outside?”

  “I spent three months in Afghanistan. If you can sleep through mortar attacks you can sleep through just about anything.”

  “Morning, sleepy head.”

  She turned to find Jack standing behind her. An amused expression flashed across his face. She followed his gaze to the Scooby Doo pajama bottoms she wore. “I’ll be right back,” she said and ran to her bedroom as they all joined in laughter.

  After slipping into a pair of cotton slacks and shirt, she rejoined them in the kitchen. Two more chairs had been placed at the table. Jack sat in one of them. Sitting next to him, she accepted the cup of coffee he offered.

  “You were in Afghanistan?” he asked.

  “Three months for the BBC. Instead of Scooby Doo pajamas, I wore a bullet-proof vest to bed. That’s one place where I don't want to go back.”

  “How long have you been a journalist, Gwen?” Tom queried.

  “Seven years. I worked for the Washington post for three years before moving to London.”

  “Jack said you work for the London Times now?” Celeste joined the conversation.

  “I do a column for them, but I’m mostly freelance, which usually doesn’t pay as well.”

  “We better get going,” Evelyn said. She stood and rinsed her cup in the sink before turning back to Gwen. “There’s a plate of scrambled eggs warming here on the stove for you. There’s also fresh fruit in the fridge.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Would you ladies care to join us for devotions?” Tom asked.

  “I think I’ll pass,” Celeste said.

  Gwen smiled at Tom. “I’ll keep her company.”

  Tom returned the smile. “Another time, maybe.”

  Jack moved ahead of them to the door. “We’ll meet you downstairs in half an hour.”

  “Sounds good.” Then, recalling the meeting Michael had set up for today, she said, “I need to be back here by 4:00. I have a meeting in Chizoba.”

  “I’ll tell Robbie.”

  * * * * *

  Jack was a little disappointed Gwen had turned down their invitation. Normally, he didn’t care much for reporters. The ones he had met would do just about anything for a great story. People like Michael Garrison. He had a hunch Gwen was different, though. He hoped those instincts were right and that she had come here to help bring change to Dewana.

  Her relationship with Garrison was of some concern. According to the PI he hired to check into her background, she had severed all ties with the man last year. Yet, here she was doing a story for his paper. Had she taken the assignment out of financial need, or did she have another agenda?

  “I don’t like the idea of having a reporter tagging along with us, Jack,” Robbie said as the group gathered for devotions. “She could bring us a lot of unwanted trouble.”

  “Gwen’s a well-respected journalist, Robbie.” Jack had always trusted his instincts, he wasn’t about to stop now. “We need her to help tell the world what’s going on here.”

  Tom took a seat in one of the chairs. “Jack is right, Robbie. The Lord has brought her into our path for a reason. We need to trust Him, and we need to trust Jack.” He glanced up with a smile. “Besides, I think Jack is a tad smitten with her.”

  “What?” Jack chuckled at the ridiculous notion. He and Gwen were about as different as night and day. It took more than a woman’s beauty to peak his interest.

  Evelyn grinned. “We saw the way you were taking up with her at the airport and on the plane.”

  “You only saw what you wanted to see, little miss-match-maker.”

  “Hey, you can’t blame me for trying. Your momma’s going to be real disappointed if you don’t settle down soon and give her some grandchildren.”

  “Even if I were interested, which I’m not, Gwen doesn’t seem the mothering type.”

  “You’d be surprised how much a woman, or a man for that matter, can change once they meet their soul mate,” Kay added with a mischievous grin. “And she does seem like a very nice lady.”

  “Well, I don’t trust her,” Robbie argued. “Reporters have gotten people killed around here for talking to them, and I’ve seen all the death I wanna see.”

  Jack understood the man’s apprehension. With the imminent threat of another invasion, Lerato was like a ticking bomb ready to go off at any minute. “As long as we keep our senses and don’t take unnecessary risks, we’ll be fine.”

  * * * * *

  Downstairs, Gwen and Celeste only had to wait a few minutes before the others joined them with Robbie leading the way. “I thought I’d take you on a daylight tour before we head over to the hospital and refugee camp.”

  “Who watches the children while you’re gone?” Celeste asked.

  “We have a couple who lives here as house parents and the older kids help to look after the younger ones.”

  “Is there much chance of these chi
ldren finding homes?” Gwen asked as she took her notebook from her backpack.

  “We’re hopeful, but most of our children have been categorized as special needs children. They have emotional or physical handicaps to deal with.”

  Gwen jotted down her answer and then went on to describe the sights and sounds as they drove through the capitol city.

  Much of the city’s infrastructure showed signs of past rebel activity. Buildings were bullet-riddled or blackened and scarred by artillery blasts. In the neighborhoods, people lived in shack-like lean-tos, shanties, or blockhouses with peeling paint and drab yards littered with trash and a few shrubs and wandering goats. The goats foraged in the garbage, eating scraps and paper.

  Cars raced along the road, darting back and forth to miss the many potholes and pedestrians that cluttered the roadway. A lot of the women she saw were dressed in brightly colored clothing and carried baskets of food or clothing securely on their heads. Most everyone she saw wore sandals, except for some of the children who were either barefoot or wore tattered tennis shoes.

  “What is that the women are wearing?” Celeste asked.

  “They’re called hijab headscarfs, a long, lightweight fabric that is used for a number of things,” Robbie answered. “They can be wrapped around the body and head as clothing, wrapped around the head to help cushion and secure heavy loads, or used to fasten a child to its mother.”

  “It’s the customary dress among Muslims here,” Kay added. “Arms, legs, and hair are to be covered completely when out in public. The more devout Muslims veil their entire face.”

  Gwen was tempted to asked Robbie to pull over near the market place so she could do some filming, but didn’t want to interfere with their day’s schedule. There would be plenty of time for that later.

  Driving toward the outskirts of the city, Robbie gave a brief history of the area. “Lerato is the country’s main port on the Dewana peninsula. Founded in the late 1700s by former slaves it handles the country’s main exports; from fish and rice, to petroleum and diamonds, and the manufacture of cigarettes, paint, shoes, and beer. Most of the exports have been halted due to the rebel activity in the area.”