The Jungle Warrior (23 page)

Rokoff leaned against a post and lit a cigarette. The smoke agitated the animals. He deliberately blew it across Tarzan's face.

“I'd heard the rumors of the White Ape. Like others, I assumed it was a rare albino. But I could not find it. Then I heard a French soldier, who was presumed dead, had stumbled from the jungle claiming that the White Ape was not only real but he was also the nephew of Lord Greystoke, missing after all these years.

“Of course Lord Greystoke was not happy about this, not happy at all. He had no intention of relinquishing the estate, so he set about discrediting your friend, Paul D'Arnot. If D'Arnot's claims proved to be true . . . then you were not to live.”

At the mention of D'Arnot's name, Tarzan stopped struggling. Rokoff blew more smoke across Tarzan, enjoying the moment.

“More importantly, Lord Greystoke needed to see if there was any truth in the Frenchman's ramblings so he hired me to follow him to find out. D'Arnot was driven back to the jungle, hounded by the media who claimed he was only after Greystoke's riches. At least that was the story reported by the media. You see, I knew D'Arnot had discovered the truth. He was a soldier after all, and had connections in military circles. He also discovered that Greystoke had hired me to track and kill the upstart heir to the estate. That's the real reason D'Arnot fled. To warn you that your own family was out to kill you. To warn you that I was coming.”

Rokoff let the statement linger. He was not sure how much of this was getting through to the wild man. He suspected that Tarzan understood a lot more than he was able to vocalize.

“So I set off on D'Arnot's trail. For weeks I followed him before I realized he was leading me in circles. He was far more astute than I gave him credit for. He knew I was pursuing him. Time was running out, I could not stay in the jungle forever so I confronted D'Arnot to find out where you lived.”

“You kill D'Arnot,” Tarzan stated flatly.

Rokoff barked a harsh laugh. “Not at first. Initially I applied certain techniques to induce pain. Techniques that get most men's tongues wagging, but not his. Your friend endured unbelievable agony to protect you. There is no sport in torture, and I took no pleasure from it so I put a bullet in him to end his suffering and you fell back into legend. At least until your friends decided to contact the Greystokes and tell them they'd found you.”

Rokoff sucked the cigarette in one long inhalation, then stubbed it out on the post, tossing the butt in the dirt.

“So once more the Greystokes called me. For me it was a matter of professional courtesy to finish what I'd started. I have a reputation to uphold after all. Okeke's job to get your little furry friend here,” he gave Karnath's cage a kick, “was nothing more than serendipitous timing; the perfect bait to lure you to my turf. After all, I had no desire to let you hide in the jungle again.”

“Rokoff kill Tarzan?”

Rokoff smiled and nodded. “Rokoff capture Tarzan; Rokoff kill Tarzan. Of course, I'll only do that after I prove to the Greystokes that you really do exist. I think they would prefer to see your execution live. As soon as Okeke sells your little pal I will set up the video link and Tarzan will die.”

•••

It took close to an hour for Okeke to persuade the remaining bidders to stay. They insisted on seeing for themselves that their attacker had been subdued and came to view Tarzan in the pen, bound like some muscled freak-show exhibit. Only when they were satisfied that the wild man was no threat did the auction continue.

Rokoff stayed with Tarzan the whole time—he didn't trust Paulvitch not to do something rash the moment his back was turned. The elephant and rhino were led from the pens and Paulvitch accompanied them, announcing upon his return that they had sold for more than Okeke had imagined possible.

The last item was Karnath. Two of Okeke's security men, who bore fresh scars from their encounter with Tarzan, carried the whimpering ape's cage from the outhouse. Tarzan gave a series of low coughs, but said nothing.

“That's the last you'll see of him,” sniggered Rokoff. “After he's sold they'll ship the lot of them out. Then you're next, my friend.”

Tarzan said nothing. He didn't rise to the bait.

The minutes passed slowly then the security team returned to deliver the animals to their new owners.

“Let's see if your family's ready to see you,” Rokoff said jauntily.

Although usually highly composed, Rokoff found himself gripped by an excitement he had not felt since the early days when he began hunting. Capturing Tarzan was the pinnacle of his career. Executing him was the only way the hunter could truly claim he had beaten his quarry. He had plans to mount the wild man's head next to the silverback and white rhino he had on the walls of his private collection back in Moscow.

Okeke was entertaining his guests with champagne while he waited for their money transfers to be wired to his account. Rokoff kept away from the crowd and sat in the corner using one of the few laptops Tarzan hadn't destroyed to send a message through to the Greystokes to initiate the video-conference. As he waited for a reply, his leg shuffled nervously, a teenage habit he thought he had lost long ago.

“And this is the man who made everything possible,” Okeke suddenly said. Rokoff looked up as Okeke waved an arm toward him and beckoned him to stand. All eyes fell on Rokoff, gleaming with respect and curiosity. “Nikolas Rokoff, undoubtedly the world's greatest hunter!”

Okeke initiated a round of applause and the champagne in his hand spilled everywhere. He was elated from the sales, which, in spite of the earlier mayhem, had gone better than expected. Karnath had sold for $800,000 to a wiry German—an agent for a wealthy sheikh.

The applause surprised Rokoff and he found himself suddenly fielding a barrage of questions about how he had managed to capture so many exotic creatures and avoid the authorities. No sooner had he finished one story than the eager audience asked for more details and a glass of champagne was thrust into his hand. Rokoff didn't notice Paulvitch slowly back out of the room.

•••

Paulvitch was a coward who thrived on petty feuds and picking fights with the weak. Although he would never admit it, Paulvitch was quite happy lurking in Rokoff's shadow. But that was before Tarzan's beasts had scarred him for life.

Paulvitch didn't share Rokoff's desire to execute Tarzan for the viewing pleasure of the Greystokes. He was impatient and believed showing them a dead body would achieve the same result, but Rokoff was hearing none of it. Paulvitch was too cowardly to kill the ape-man himself, but now that Rokoff was distracted he hurried back to Tarzan with the intention of inflicting serious pain on him. If Rokoff wanted to make the final kill, fine—Paulvitch intended to push Tarzan to the point where he would be pleading for death.

Tarzan looked up as Paulvitch entered. As soon as he saw the wild man, he was consumed with resentment. He drew his hunting knife and pressed it against Tarzan's throat.

“Look at what you did to me!” he snarled, his self-control vanishing. “Look at my face! I should kill you right now!”

Tarzan lifted his neck, exposing his veins as a clear taunt to the Russian.

“You don't think I'll do it, do you? Like him, you think I'm weak!”

Paulvitch's anger blotted out any common sense he possessed and he began pacing back and forth, never taking his eyes off the ape-man while he ranted.

Although his movements were restricted, Tarzan was still able to move his legs and body. No knife could slice through the steel mesh binding him, but the bottom of the net, around his ankles, was tied with nylon climbing rope—something that a sharp blade could easily cut through.

Paulvitch moved close, spittle flying as he spoke. “I'm stronger than you, monkey-man! I'm going to make you scream my name!”

He crouched and pressed the knife to Tarzan's throat once again. The move put Paulvitch off balance. He had only the stump to support him but it hurt to put pressure on it.

It was the opportunity Tarzan was looking for. Ignoring the knife, he headbutted Paulvitch in the face. The Russian howled as his nose broke and he reeled against the wall.

“Aargh! That's enough! You'll die by my hand!”

Paulvitch lunged forward as Tarzan spun around and raised his legs to defend himself. Paulvitch anticipated the attack and slashed the knife in a series of uncoordinated blows. The first bounced from the wire mesh around Tarzan's legs. The second sliced through the rope and stabbed his calf. Tarzan registered the pain with a gruff snort—then kicked Paulvitch with all the strength he could muster.

Paulvitch smashed through two wooden pens before crashing against the wall. His back throbbed in pain, but he clambered upright now determined to slay the wild man there and then.

Tarzan stood and pulled the wire netting off his body. Paulvitch saw the ragged nylon rope at the base of the net and realized his mistake. The Russian charged forward with a scream, hoping to reach the wild man before he could fully free himself.

•••

Rokoff's keen hearing picked up the faint shrill scream over the noise of the conversation. His gaze swept the room.

“Paulvitch!”

Rokoff pushed past a red-faced American bidder with whom he had been sharing hunting anecdotes and powered to the stables as fast as he could. He took several steps into the building then froze. Paulvitch was swinging from the rafters, the metal net that caught Tarzan now a noose around his neck. His eyes bulged, his tongue was swollen; he had died a painful death.

There was no sign of Tarzan. Rokoff suddenly realized his only defense was the small pistol in his jacket. He drew it and spun round, shooting into the dark corner behind him.

There was no Tarzan.

He swept the gun to the rafters—the ape-man was not there. A dull thumping noise caught his attention outside and slowly he backed into the daylight. Standing away from the building, with plenty of space around him, he felt a lot safer than he had moments ago. The animals near the vehicles were becoming restless; the noise was scaring them. Rokoff shielded his eyes and peered into the sky. He tracked the noise and saw a pair of helicopters swoop low over the plains toward the ranch. Rokoff was certain they were not part of Okeke's plan. He ran toward the mansion, taking cover by the pens.

Okeke and the bidders stepped outside to see what the noise was, just as the choppers banked around the ranch. They were Bell UH-1 Hueys, sporting Uganda Wildlife Authority logos.

Everybody panicked as they realized the trouble they were in. One Huey hovered over the compound, the rotor's downdraught creating a cloud of dust that sent the caged animals into a frenzy. Rokoff saw the side door slide open and he recognized Milton Muwanga from the UWA's frequent press statements, sitting half out with an automatic rifle aimed on the crowd. Next to him sat Jane and Robbie, pointing at Rokoff.

Milton's voice boomed over a loudspeaker. “This is Uganda Wildlife Authority. On the ground! You are under arrest!”

A second Huey landed a few hundred feet away and armed UWA security filed out, rifles raised. Everybody dropped to their knees, including Rokoff. He cursed his decision to keep Robbie alive, but he had needed the boy as bait to lead Tarzan the final steps to the ranch rather than rely on the GPS tracker alone. Knowing Robbie's past he had assumed he would never turn to the authorities for help. A costly mistake.

As the security team moved in, Rokoff calculated his escape route. There was no way he would allow himself to be caught. He fell backward and swung his leg out, breaking the lock on the elephant's cage. The young elephant immediately bolted. Scrambling to his feet, he did the same with the rhino cage and it too raced for freedom. The young animals caused a stir among both the surrendering men and the rangers. Dust from the rotors added to the confusion and gave Rokoff the chance he needed to open Karnath's cage and pull out the shrieking ape. The little gorilla was almost as strong as Rokoff. He bared his fangs and bit deep into the Russian's arm.

Rokoff shrieked as Karnath drew blood, but he continued to hold Karnath close and ran for the house.

In the helicopter, Milton took aim at Rokoff—he had a perfect shot—but he hesitated when Rokoff turned and used the ape as a shield.

Rokoff carried the struggling gorilla inside. Then he took off his jacket and threw it over Karnath's head. The trick seemed to subdue the ape a little and he started to whimper. Quickly, Rokoff found one of Okeke's tranquilizer guns and shot a dart into Karnath's back.

Outside, Milton's Huey landed and the troops piled out. Robbie and Jane followed, keeping well behind. Unsmiling rangers already surrounded Okeke and his men.

Rokoff knew he only had seconds to make his escape. He shoved the tranquilizer gun in his belt, grabbed his hunting rifle, and picked up the drowsy ape. The dart contained just enough sedative for Okeke to subdue any animal that might become too frisky for his clients while still keeping it awake.

Using Karnath as a shield, Rokoff held out his rifle with his free arm. He smashed through a window at the back of the house just as Milton led the raid through the front door.

Rokoff ran for the first chopper that had landed. The rangers were six hundred feet off to the side, surrounding Okeke's group, so he had a clear run to it.

Behind, Milton's team had stormed through the house, following Rokoff's trail through the rooms and back out the rear doors.

“Stop!” Milton shouted from behind.

Rokoff half turned and bounded sideways toward the helicopter, while firing at the same time. The rifle's powerful recoil almost kicked the weapon from his hand. As he was unable to aim, it was nothing more than a warning shot, but it had the desired effect, forcing Milton and the UWA rangers to hit the deck. With the gorilla in the way, they didn't dare return fire.