African Pursuit (9 page)

‘
Know they not of the Promised One?’
asked Lucy in horror. The baboon put on an expression as near to one of embarrassment as Lucy had ever seen in an animal.

‘No…,’
he paused, uncomfortably, ‘…
we speak not much to the spotfang whom we greatly fear, but I have heard tell
…
’

‘Heard what?’
asked Lucy impatiently.

‘
The spotfangs have told the shieldkin, with whom we do talk, that for many moons the junglekin have spoken of
…
,’
he paused again, ‘…
of a different Special One. One who fulfills their legend of a Tailless One for the junglekin.’
The baboon saw Lucy’s face and hurriedly sought to reassure her.

‘But fear not for thy kin
,’ he added.
‘The fellfangs stay near them, as do the scurripods and there are many fledgibanes that will risk their lives in your service.’

‘I thank thee,
’ said Lucy, whose brain was now in turmoil. ‘
Stay close by for I may need thy help.’
The baboon agreed and rejoined his troop who disappeared among the rocks and boulders.

‘What’s all that about?’ asked Clare. ‘Have you sorted out your problem?’

‘Not really.’ said Lucy. ‘Although Sarah and Ben are OK it seems that it may be more difficult to track them and we can’t rely on the help of the animals to rescue them.’

‘Why on earth not?’ asked Clive.

‘Well, they’ve now entered the rainforest and apparently the creatures of the forest consider themselves a cut above the rest of the planet and don’t talk to creatures outside the jungle. They call the forest the “Greater World” and everywhere else the “Lesser World” and they don’t let the Lesser World animals in – except for the leopards which they can’t stop. The only good thing is that our “own” snakes and mice are still with the kids. The snakes will protect them with their lives and the mice will talk to any birds who dare to fly into the forest – some Lesser World hawks do apparently, though the forest hawks and owls try to kill them.’

‘The best-laid plans of mice and men…,’
*
said Clive bitterly, ‘and for the first time in history it’s literally true.’

‘What else is there?’ asked Clare. She knew her sister too well.

‘Well,’ said Lucy slowly, ‘the next thing is
really
spooky. The leopards can go in and out a bit as I said. Apparently they’re very independent and don’t really go with this Greater and Lesser World gig. The trouble is, their favourite food is baboons, so they don’t sit around with them swapping gossip.’

‘But …,’ said Clare impatiently.

‘But the baboons
do
talk to the tortoises, and the tortoises tell them that the leopards have been saying for some time that a Promised 
One – except they call her the Special One – has appeared in the rainforest.’ She ignored the gasps from Clive and Clare. ‘Someone the junglekin have always been expecting and they are cock-a-hoop about it. They say it proves they are superior to all other animals – and, by the way, they’ve never heard of me.’

‘Wow,’ said Clive. ‘The plot certainly thickens. What on earth do we make of all that?’

‘Well, there’s nothing we can do tonight,’ said Lucy, ‘except hope that with the help of some brave hawks we can carrying on keeping track of the villains. At least we know Sarah and Ben are safe. The snakes will bite anyone who touches them. I’ll have another chat with the baboons tomorrow. They’re really switched on and seem very helpful.’

They drove to the next town, Katara, and booked into a hotel where they all spent a restless night. In the morning they drove back to the crop of boulders where the baboons lived. On the way they were astonished to see herds of elephants, buffalos and giraffes, and several groups of wild dogs, cheetahs, hyenas and lions. All seemed to be moving west. When they reached the baboons the big male came out immediately to greet them.

‘During sunsleep the animals of the plains have heard of thy plight. They assemble even now to seek thy kin. As well as those you see around you there are countless others surrounding the junglekin on all sides. The fledgiquills have flown many, many leagues to the lands that surround the forest and warned the animals of the desert and river and mountain and plain to come and serve thee. The hipposnorts and the Dreadful Ones have already entered the jungle, such is their eagerness to assist, but the others wait for thy command.’

Lucy couldn’t believe her ears. Whatever had she started? She forced her mind back to their main concern.

‘And what news of the young ones?’

‘The houses that move have travelled throughout all sunsleep and have passed many leagues into the great forest. Even now they cross the mighty river where the waters and the rocks have their eternal struggle and point towards the land of the bonobokin.’

Lucy finally turned to the others.

‘Gosh!’ she said. ‘Where to start? First, Sarah and Ben. They’ve been driving all night apparently and have reached something that sounds like a giant waterfall or cataract in the middle of the jungle.’ Clive, as usual, had his map at the ready. He ran his finger across the page.

‘That’ll be the Stanley Falls!’ he exclaimed, ‘Oops, sorry, now called the
Boyoma
Falls.’ He pointed to the middle of the forest as the others peered over his shoulder.

‘And now they’re heading for the land of the bonobokin, wherever that is,’ said Lucy.

‘That’ll be the famous reserve at Salonga,’ said Clare, looking intently at the map. ‘I once did a project on bonobos – there it is,’ she pointed at a spot about 250 miles to the southwest of the falls.

‘Right, that’s the news of the children and the villains,’ said Lucy. ‘And now for the animals. You’re just not going to believe this. Those animals we saw on the way’ – they nodded – ‘they’re just a fraction of all the animals surrounding the entire rainforest. Apparently when I give the word they are ready to invade the forest and rescue the children. I suspect they also intend to settle a few old scores at the same time. They can’t wait to take the junglekin down a peg or two. The hippos and crocs have already gone into action. It sounds as though we are going to be responsible for a massive animal war.’

The other two just gaped at her. For once they were both lost for words. Then Clive reached for the radio. He fiddled through various Swahili programmes and then found an English broadcast:

‘…
experts
in Nairobi and at the Royal Zoological Society in London say there has never been such a massive migration since records began and it involves all the wrong species. Many of the grazers who usually move have stayed behind on the plains, and the predators who normally stay put are all on the move, together with some large herbivores such as elephants and giraffes. There are also reports of crocodiles fighting other crocodiles and hippos fighting other hippos. The experts think these unusual behaviour patterns are almost certainly some new manifestation of global warming. Several countries are already mobilizing soldiers to protect the migrating animals from poachers who are looking forward to a field day. Ex-colonial powers such as Britain and France who have long associations with some of the affected countries have already promised military and scientific aid.’

‘My God,’ Clive said excitedly, ‘What on earth have we started?’ Lucy was appalled.

‘We’ve got to stop this,’ she exclaimed, ‘otherwise hundreds of innocent animals will lose their lives.’

‘What can we do?’ asked Clive. They all thought for a moment as the baboon waited patiently beside them.

‘Now things aren’t going quite as planned hadn’t we better tell the others? We’ll have to go back to the hotel in Katara to do that though – my mobile can’t pick up anything out here.’ They all agreed. It was Clare who spoke first.

‘We must get a note to the children while we still can and let them know we’re coming to rescue them. As the villains seem as far as possible to be avoiding towns and villages we’re probably going to have to rescue them in the wild. Perhaps we should ask the baboons what the chances
are of a “hit squad” of leopards getting through to protect the children till we can get there. Next, we’ve got to try to find out about this other “Promised One” – if she or he exists. I still think the junglekin may be referring to Lucy but that somehow their legend has got distorted and they think she is only meant to relate to them. Don’t ask me how we find out though – I haven’t got the faintest idea!’

‘You’re right though,’ agreed Clive. ‘As thousands of animals seem to be getting mobilized, cracking the riddle of the two ‘Promised Ones’ may be the only way of stopping a horrendous animal war!’

‘Right,’ said Lucy. ‘Let’s swing into action.’ She pulled out a notebook and started to scribble a note.

‘Just a minute,’ said Clare. ‘We’ve never told Sarah and Ben that you can speak to animals. What are they going to make of a letter appearing out of nowhere?’

Lucy paused and thought for a moment.

‘You’re right of course. I’ll have to word it carefully and when we meet up they’re obviously going to have to know – it had to happen sometime soon anyway!’ She tore up the note she had started and wrote a new one.

Don’t let the men see you reading this

“Dear Sarah and Ben,

We are following you and are coming to rescue you. Some snakes and/ or leopards may come and frighten the men but
they won’t hurt you
(I’ll explain why later). Stay near the trucks and the leopards till we come.

Lots of love,

Lucy, Clare and Clive XXXXX

P.S. When you’ve read this note tear a corner off, put it back in the case and then just drop it on the ground or chuck it out of the truck. The animals will return it to us and we’ll know you’ve read it. X

She then took her spare glasses case, made of soft leather and slipped the note inside. She turned and spoke to the baboon who loped off into the trees. Soon he returned and a few seconds later a hawk flew over and sat on the car bonnet.

He glanced around the group with a proud and haughty look. His speech was straight to the point as he addressed Lucy:

‘
How can I serve thee? I fear not the junglekin
.’ Just what we need, thought Lucy gratefully, reassured by the baboon’s choice of messenger for the hazardous mission. They all admired the raptor’s brilliant plumage, awesome beak and claws, and piercing eyes. None of them was to know that within a few hours one of those golden orbs would be gone, shattered by the beak of a jungle owl defending the junglekin from an intruder risking all in service of the Promised One. Lucy gave the spectacle case to the hawk.

‘
Take this to the young Tailless Ones. The bearded ones must not see thee or all is lost. Stay near until the young ones cast this to the ground, then return it hither.’

The hawk grasped the case and flew like an arrow to the west and the great forest, looking for all the world as if he held a small brown rodent in his talons.

‘Right, now for the leopards and snakes.’ Lucy turned to the baboon. ‘
I seek the aid of the spotfangs who live in the great forest. Can we send word to them?
’

‘
We are here to do thy will,’
said the baboon simply.
‘There are other fledgiquills such as the one you have seen who will brave the junglekin.’
The baboon went once more to the trees and almost immediately a second hawk flew across to the waiting trio. After greeting the bird Lucy gave it some instructions:

‘Go thou to the spotfangs in the great forest. Assist them in seeking out
the young Tailless Ones. When you reach the houses that move, speak to the fellfangs who hide therein. They already have their instructions. Tell them their time has come.’
She paused until she was satisfied the bird had understood, then continued: ‘
The spotfangs must protect the young Tailless Ones from the bearded ones and, once they are alone, from any of the junglekin that might wish them harm. The spotfangs must remain there until I come with my kin. Now, go like the wind and fare ye well.’
The hawk sped off towards the rainforest.

Lucy paused. What was the other thing? Of course. She turned back the baboon who had now returned:

‘
Finally, tell all the animals of the Lesser World to wait before attacking the junglekin. That includes the hipposnorts and the Dreadful Ones. I will meet with their Special One and then decide what must be done.’

The baboon agreed and trotted off to join his troop. A few seconds later a flock of egrets rose from the baboons’ rocky outcrop and flew north, south, east and west with the words of the Promised One to the creatures of the Lesser World.

J
oanna looked out from the plane across the seemingly interminable green canopy of the jungle, the second largest in the world after the Amazon and comprising almost twenty per cent of the world’s remaining tropical rainforest. As she thought of the vast, dark impenetrable and forbidding landscape that lay beneath the sunlit canopy she recalled the description of the Congo penned by Joseph Conrad – “the heart of darkness”. The term conjured up the magical and mysterious tales of the early explorers: tales of great cataracts and waterfalls, gorillas, pygmies, cannibals and mysterious animals ranging from giant serpents to dinosaurs. She thought of the words of the Latin author Pliny: “Ex Africa semper aliquid novi”
*
and reflected that for over two thousand years the great continent had continued to surprise scientists and naturalists as ever more bizarre and wonderful creatures and secrets were revealed by intrepid explorers.

Her own previous sojourn in the Congo had been one of mixed emotions: wonder at the marvels of nature and the fascinating studies she and Richard had undertaken; joy at the birth of Lucy, and intense sorrow at the loss of her other child amidst the horrors and brutality
of civil war. And now, on her way back towards Kinshasa, the capital, she was again experiencing mixed emotions: hope that the feral girl they had read about might be indeed her missing child; fear that she might not be, or might not be found or, perhaps even worse, found and prove to be irreparably harmed by her bizarre and unnatural upbringing among wild animals. As Richard, tired out by his Kilimanjaro expedition the previous day, snored beside her, she went over once again, for the hundredth time, their plans to track down the mystery girl. They had started in London with enquiries at the Foreign and Commonwealth Office and she recalled with a mixture of amusement and annoyance the unhelpful phone conversation she had had with the official responsible for equatorial Africa.

‘Hello, Tawkin-Tosh here. How may I be of assistance?’ Tawkin-Tosh didn’t usually answer the phone, but his secretary was away on a team-building course and he was on his own.

‘Hello,’ said Joanna, ‘I wonder if you can assist me with some information. It concerns a newspaper article about a girl in the Congo.’

‘The Congo, eh,’ there was a brief silence. Joanna could practically hear the buffoon thinking. ‘I think the Belgians are the ones you’re after. I’ve got the number of their embassy somewhere.’ There was the sound of shuffling papers.

‘The Belgians left the Congo in 1960,’ said Joanna. ‘Perhaps that’s something you ought to have known yourself.’

‘Well, you learn something every day in this job! I’ve just moved from our South American section, so I’m still a bit shaky on the fine details. Always a new wrinkle, what?’

Joanna put the phone down. There was obviously nothing more to be learnt about the feral child until they got to Africa.

Now, on the plane, she felt eager to start on the quest. She felt comfortable about the other children who had waved them off cheerily at Arusha airport that morning and who were greatly enjoying their trip to Africa. She thought Lucy had looked a little pale, but put that down to the late night they had all enjoyed. Now she and Richard could devote all their energies to the task in hand.

There were two potential sources of information and help that they planned to use. The first was the UNESCO site at Salonga where they had worked on their previous visit and where the staff would undoubtedly have a great deal of local knowledge. The second was the British Embassy which, they felt had a duty to assist them in searching for what might be a lost British citizen. While the local enquiries were the ones they were principally pinning their hopes on, the British Embassy for the Congo was in the capital, Kinshasa, where their plane was about to land so it made sense to go there first before making the journey out to Salonga.

Joanna and Richard went straight to the Embassy from the airport. They introduced themselves at reception and explained that they had come for information about the feral child who had been reported in the news. They were asked to wait for a while and after a few moments an assistant appeared and took them to sit in a large office in front of a large desk. A distinguished-looking man came through another door, greeted them warmly, and introduced himself as the Ambassador.

Joanna and Richard exchanged astonished glances. They had expected some vague offer of assistance from a junior official.

‘Can I start by just checking I’ve got this right?’ said the ambassador. ‘You are Dr. and Mrs. Bonaventure and you worked at the Salonga reserve thirteen years ago?’ Richard tried to speak but his mouth was dry – so he just nodded.

‘Yes, we are,’ said Joanna.

‘This is most curious,’ the ambassador continued. ‘In fact, I think it is the most curious thing that has happened to me in all my years in the service.’ Joanna and Richard stared at him expectantly. For some reason Joanna found herself trembling as he continued. ‘This very morning I received a package from the UNESCO office at Salonga. It had been taken there by a maid who said she had found it in the house of a Salonga park conservateur. He and his family had been arrested on suspicion of espionage a few weeks ago and, I understand from enquiries I have just made, exiled to Rwanda. On receiving this package the UNESCO officials, reluctant to get involved in something that might have political repercussions, sent it to me as I had been cited as an alternative recipient. Now we come to the interesting part and I think I should warn you to be prepared for some astonishing news. He opened the file and removed a letter and suddenly Richard leaned forward and peered more closely.

‘Good heavens!’ he exclaimed. ‘Those – those are our old passports… and my papers and journals!’

‘Precisely,’ smiled the ambassador. ‘And now I think you should read this letter.’ He stood up and came round the desk and put Neema’s guardian’s letter gently into Joanna’s shaking hands. She and Richard read it together. They sat in stunned silence for a while then, both weeping, turned and hugged each other as the ambassador rang a bell and asked an attendant to bring some tea.

‘So it’s true,’ Richard eventually whispered. ‘She survived that ghastly day.’

‘But where is she?’ asked Joanna, ‘and what has she to do with the feral child?’

‘Ah, that I don’t know,’ answered the ambassador.‘We are, of course, making urgent enquiries but you’ll appreciate that I only learnt about
any of this a few hours ago. We’ve established that the girl was not present when her foster family were arrested and the people at Salonga have not seen her since. I’ve sent someone in the area to have a quiet word with the maid. She may well know something but is obviously terrified of being arrested herself. There have been no reports of recent accidents or deaths in the area, so I think there’s every possibility that the child running wild in the reserve really is your daughter.’

‘But isn’t she in great danger alone in the forest?’ burst out Joanna.

‘I don’t know,’ said the ambassador gently, ‘and I don’t wish to raise any false hopes. I have, however, just reviewed all the local reports that gave rise to the press article you saw and it is clear that the poachers who saw the mystery child– sorry,
alleged
poachers – were emphatic that the child was playing with the chimps. These bonobos have a reputation for being friendly and gentle and, incredible as it seems, it’s just possible they’re looking after her.’

‘What do you think we should do next?’asked Richard.

‘Well, we’ll continue our own enquiries of course and let you know immediately of any developments.’ He took a card from a carved wooden container on his desk and handed it to Joanna. ‘Here’s our contact details. Get in touch when you know where you’re staying and we can then keep you posted. In fact –’ he took back the card and scribbled on it with his pen, ‘–here’s my home number. You can ring me any time of day or night if you need help.’

Joanna and Richard thanked him for all his help and kindness and turned to go.

‘Just one more thing,’ said the ambassador. ‘We’ll do our best but, to be honest, you’re doing the right thing by going to the reserve
yourselves. It’s by far your best chance of finding the girl. I have to pick my way through a tricky political situation whereas you know the locality and the UNESCO people and you don’t have to handle any sensitive diplomatic issues.’ He looked at Joanna’s distraught face and patted her on the shoulder as he ushered them out. ‘When you find your daughter we’ll have to fix her up with a passport. It’s a unique situation so I may have to bend the rules a bit. I hope to see you again soon,’ he said with a reassuring smile.

It was getting on in the day and they were both exhausted from the flight and the extraordinary meeting that had just had at the embassy. They decided to postpone the long and difficult journey to Salonga until the morning, and booked into a hotel in Kinshasa for the night.

When they eventually arrived at the reserve they found some suitable accommodation, rang the embassy with a contact number, and then visited their old haunts – those at least that had managed to survive two civil wars and endless civil unrest. The UNESCO officials gave them a warm welcome and told them about Neema and the long hours she used to spend with the animals. One of the rangers took them in a dugout canoe to the cabin where she had spent most of her time and as they looked out into the vast forest they realised the true enormity of their task.

‘There’s only one way to do this,’ said Richard that evening. Joanna smiled.

‘I know exactly what you’re thinking,’ she said. ‘We need Lucy.’ He nodded.

‘She’s got to know now anyway,’ Joanna continued, ‘so we may as well tell her and get her involved straight away.’

In the morning they rang the hotel in Arusha but, to their surprise the receptionist said that the party had all checked out.

‘Though they did leave a message,’ she added. ‘Just a moment please’. There was a rustling of papers. ‘Yes, here it is. “We’ve gone on tour. Mobiles not working but we’ll keep trying. Leave a contact number with this hotel if you’re now on a land line. Love from all”.’

‘That’s odd,’ said Richard, ‘they never mentioned a tour but maybe they’ve heard of an exciting safari or something.’ He left their number with the Arusha hotel who kindly agreed to act as a “post office” and they decided that there was nothing more they could do until the others got back in touch.

They tried to speak to the maid who had taken the package to UNESCO but she had fled back to her own village before she could get blamed for anything. All they could do now was to visit Neema’s cabin in the reserve every day in the hope of catching sight of her.