Haitian Gold Read online

  I looked at the ravine below and the ridge beyond and knew that, even if we had lost the guards, there was no way we would make it over the imposing ridge in front of us. In our condition we needed the aid of a boat and the river.

  I caught Rhames’s eye and knew he agreed. Our best chance for survival was to find the closest water and steal the first boat we could find, dealing with the consequences later. “Does he know the way?”

  “Yes, but he says they will be waiting. It is only five miles to the palace by road and another two to the coast.”

  “Right then,” I said and stood. “Let’s move.”

  Pierre led us through the drainage. The footing was better on the game trail he found, but every so often I heard a cry as someone stumbled or fell. I had Shayla beside me, my arm around her, trying to shepherd her safely through the tangle of vegetation.

  We were close to the bottom by late morning and I could hear the sound of water running. With the sun had come the heat, and my mud-soaked clothes dried stiff and heavy, making it hard to move. At last we reached the river, if you could call it that. This far inland it was more like a stream, but we all fell to our knees and drank. After drinking our fill we washed the mud from our bodies and clothes.

  There was a clear trail now and I saw smoke ahead. With any luck we could find canoes. I started down the path, but Pierre grabbed my shoulder.

  “He says we need to be careful. The tribes this far inland are dangerous,” Shayla said. “Henri took many of them as slaves over the years. They are wary of strangers.”

  I called Blue over and asked him to scout ahead. If there was trouble, he would sniff it out.

  “Is bad here,” he said and looked over to Lucy, who came by his side.

  They disappeared into the brush beside the road and I waited a few minutes to allow them enough of a lead. We were just about to head out when I felt something prick my shoulder. Just as I looked down to see what it was, I saw Rhames and Red fall to the ground.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The hut was dark and smelled of blood and feces. My shoulder burned and I remembered being struck by something. After that, I wasn’t sure what had happened. When I tried to sit up, a wave of nausea overtook me, and I collapsed back onto the dirt floor.

  A voice said something in French and I felt a blow to my groin. Slowly I opened my burning eyes and saw a figure above me that sent chills down my spine. He was dressed in tribal garb, with the fangs from a boar stuck through his ears and nose. White streaks outlined the grotesque features of his face and blood coated his arms. He said something and wound up to kick me again. This time I reacted and moved before the blow struck. He laughed—a harsh sound I will never forget.

  I looked around the dark hut and saw the others scattered on the floor, still unconscious. I wasn’t sure why he had started with me, but I would gladly take his punishment if it spared Shayla. Just as I thought it, he left me and started to move around the room, leaning down and inspecting the rest of the group. When he reached Shayla I crawled to my knees and grunted, trying to distract him.

  He came back to me. I struggled to my feet and played the only card I had. “Jean-Jean mal.” I spat in the dirt, guessing the evil man had to be hated by the natives.

  His face aligned with mine and, when he moved close, I could see every pore of his skin. We were nose to nose and he let out another laugh. This time, though, it was not at my expense and he patted me on the back. A stream of guttural French came from his mouth, but I understood none of it and shrugged my shoulders. On his haunches, he slapped the ground in frustration. I sensed that I was on the edge of losing him and looked over for Pierre. He was not here. Shayla understood French, but I didn’t want to endanger her, but then, after looking around the squalid hut, I realized it was not going to get much worse.

  I pointed to her and moved my mouth, trying to tell him that she could speak his language. He nodded, giving me permission to go to her. She woke at my touch, but I could tell whatever had struck us was still in her system.

  “Nick,” she said.

  I put my finger to her lips and moved my eyes toward the figure squatting in front of us. She gasped.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “I told him that Jean-Jean was a bad man and he seems all right now, but I need you to translate.” I could tell he was getting uneasy and I didn’t want to go into much more detail in a language he did not understand. I sat beside her and we started a stilted conversation.

  “He says he is the chief, but I can’t make out his name,” Shayla relayed to me.

  “Where are Pierre, Blue and Lucy?” I asked.

  “The others are separated. Pierre is not his enemy, but… it’s really hard to understand his dialect.”

  I gave her a reassuring look.

  “He says Pierre is in the clutches of evil.” She turned to me. “If they are not enemies, then something else is going on here.”

  “What about Blue and Lucy?” I asked, turning to face him. He rose from the squat he had been resting in and stomped his feet. I looked at Shayla.

  “He says the little people have powerful magic. I think he’s scared of them.”

  “Can we see them?” I turned to him and pointed at my eyes.

  Without a word, he left the hut, but looked back to see if we were following. I took the cue, got up and helped Shayla to her feet. She was a little uneasy, but gained her balance after a few steps. The clearing was deep in shadows, the daylight filtered by thick foliage above. The women were tending to their chores, but I could see them sneaking looks at us; the children were not so shy and started to follow until the chief scared them off.

  He led us through the village, past the cooking fire, where my mouth started to salivate and I remembered how long it had been since my last meal. Near the river stood a hut, smaller than the others and set off to the side by itself. Two men guarded the entrance, but yielded to their leader. They averted their eyes as we ducked into the opening.

  Pierre was strung up on a wooden rack, his arms and legs splayed and secured to the frame. “He looks like a prisoner to me,” I said. Shayla went to the inert figure, then turned to the man and fired off a series of questions while I went to Pierre.

  His face was covered with sweat and although his eyes were open I got the feeling he didn’t recognize us. Shayla held his hand and suddenly his body tensed. A grimace like I had never seen before came over his face and he started to struggle against the restraints. I watched him, unable to understand or help, when his stomach seemed to knot up, the muscles tensed and stood proud of his lean frame. The convulsion lasted for another minute and then his body relaxed.

  “Ask him what is happening.” I turned to the chief, wondering what he had done to cause this. He surprised me with a look of concern bordering on dread, as if this was something out of his control. Shayla went to him and they talked quietly for a few minutes.

  I stood by Pierre, wiping his brow with a wet cloth that I had found in a bucket by the frame.

  “He is scared of the magic,” Shayla said, coming towards us. “He says that Jean-Jean has a hold on Pierre and there is nothing he can do. He plans to sacrifice him to rid the village of the evil.”

  She started in again with the chief, the tension in her voice clear—she was pleading for his life. The chief turned away, but she grabbed his hands and her tone changed. Now it seemed that she was begging him.

  I still wasn’t convinced of the magic, but couldn’t discount what I had just seen. “Tell him that Blue and Lucy have magic and they cured him before.” Shayla turned back to him and translated. He became agitated and started pacing the room like he had a life-or-death decision to make. Finally he said something and left the hut.

  “He says to stay here. He will fetch the pigmies,” she said and came by my side. She placed a hand on Pierre’s forehead and jumped back. “He is ice cold, but sweating.”

  We waited for the chief to return. In the meantime we could do nothing but
comfort Pierre and hope that he didn’t suffer another attack. The chief entered the hut a few minutes later with Lucy and Blue. I looked at them and saw the same cloudiness I had seen in Shayla’s eyes. Both had their wrists bound behind them. They nodded to me and went to Pierre.

  “She needs to use her hands,” I said to Shayla. “Can you convince him?”

  She talked to the chief, but before she could finish I heard Lucy start chanting something in a tongue I didn’t understand. Blue joined in the chant and the chief moved next to him and together they stared at Pierre. I looked at Shayla, but she just shrugged her shoulders.

  Together they chanted. Shayla and I stood back and watched. Finally Blue turned to me.

  “The curse is back. Jean-Jean took the doll. He is doing this,” he said.

  I looked at Shayla, who turned to the chief and told him the story of the mysterious leg wound that had plagued Pierre earlier and how he had been cured. He stared in awe at Lucy and reached behind his back and pulled out a dagger. I started to move to stop him, but Shayla grabbed my arm.

  “Wait,” she whispered. “I don’t think he means him harm.”

  She was right, and he cut the rope binding their wrists. He turned to us and started to speak. I could tell from his tone that this was serious and waited for him to finish and Shayla to translate.

  “He worries for his tribe and believes we are his friends, but he is scared of Jean-Jean and the magic. If the evil general knows where Pierre is, he will attack the village.”

  Without warning he called the two guards into the room. They grabbed Shayla.

  “Let her go!” I screamed and made a move toward the chief. He started talking again, speaking directly to her.

  “He says that you must go and find Jean-Jean and bring the doll back or his village will be destroyed by the magic. He is holding me hostage to ensure your success.”

  I looked at the pleading look on her face and knew there was nothing I could do but go back and find the general. Not only was Pierre the only clue left to the treasure, but now my woman was in jeopardy.

  “I will do it. Tell him.”

  She translated. He seemed to relax and ordered the men to let her go. She moved to me and I reached for her, but one of the men pulled her back. The chief began to speak again.

  “He says that he will hold me and Lucy. We will be his guests and not mistreated as long as you accomplish your mission.”

  I looked at Blue and he nodded his support. Now I would need to rally the other men, and with no immediate reward for their efforts, a task I might not be able to accomplish. “Tell him to let Lucy help Pierre.” At least she would be able to comfort him.

  The chief ordered one of the guards to stay with her and we left the hut, the other guard staying close to Shayla. “Tell him we need food and supplies.” I rattled off a list of things I thought we might need.

  He nodded and I looked at her, trying to memorize her features, hoping this would not be the last time I saw her. “I’ll be back for you—no matter what,” I said.

  “The woman. Pierre told me about his wife being held there. Find her and she will help you. Her name is Cloe.”

  We gave a last look at each other, speaking our love through our eyes. I turned away and we went to the hut where I had first found myself. I woke the other men and told them of our predicament.

  “What of the treasure?” Red asked.

  “Forget the bloody treasure,” Rhames said.

  “He has Shayla,” I pleaded.

  “And now the bloody woman. I say we take one of their canoes and escape before they cook us alive. I’ve heard the stories.”

  “This is their land. They’ll catch us,” I said. He paused to think and I pressed on. I needed their support and hoped what I told him was not a lie. “Pierre knows where the treasure was taken. But without our curing him, he cannot tell us.”

  If there was one thing that could change a pirate’s mind it was the mention of treasure. Their demeanor changed and we went to the cooking fire, where a meal had been prepared. The food was odd, but my stomach welcomed it. Just before we finished I saw several of the men turn to the brush and heard the sound of rifle fire. One of the natives fell and we threw ourselves on the ground, waiting as the bullets flew over our heads. Another man screamed. I tried to count the shots to get an idea of the force we faced, but only reached six before they stopped. Even if they were only a handful, with their firepower they could easily take the village.

  Bodies slid silently past me and I saw one of the men with a blow tube similar to what Blue and Lucy used. I counted a dozen men move through the dirt and enter the bush, but lost them there. This was their territory and I could only hope they would prevail.

  Shots fired again and I was able to confirm my count. It was a small squad that had found us, but I feared the gunfire might attract the other troops, who were likely nearby. It was quiet while they reloaded, but the silence lasted far longer than I expected. A random shot fired, followed by a muffled grunt. Suddenly the village men returned, carrying the rifles of the attackers. Rhames looked over at me and smiled. At least we had arms now.

  Chapter Twenty

  It had taken all day to traverse the ridgeline separating the village from the fortress and now the Citadel walls were in the shadows cast by the setting sun. After a hard goodbye we left Lucy and Shayla to care for Pierre. Red had stayed as well. His wound from the gunshot had not been serious, but he did not have full use of his arm yet. Despite having one less man in our group, it gave me some security that he was with the women. Leaving Shayla was hard and I still remember the look on her face when I turned around for one last glance before entering the bush.

  We had declined the offer of a local guide, preferring to keep our band together. Rhames, Swift, Blue and I had been through enough action to know each other’s tendencies, and we had the trust only gained through experience.

  Twice on our approach we had encountered Jean-Jean’s squads out looking for us, but with Blue’s skills as a tracker and bushman we had avoided them. Both instances had cost us precious time: our choices were to either hunker down and wait them out or choose a circuitous route to avoid them.

  Rhames, Swift and I sat behind a rock outcropping that screened us from the watchful eyes of the sentries we suspected were high on the walls of the fortress. We waited for Blue, who scouted ahead. I doubted getting close to the Citadel would be a problem now—this would be the last place that Jean-Jean would think to look for us. I worried about another squad coming across the village, but the tribe was alert now and we had seen firsthand that they were capable of fighting this enemy.

  “Bloody crap being back here,” Rhames said. “Thought by now we’d have a load of gold and be sitting on the beach waiting for the Caiman to pick us up.”

  “When was the last time anything was ever that easy?” I asked and both men laughed. Our mood was surprisingly light. We chewed dried meat and waited for Blue to return.

  Just after dark he entered our small camp. “The evil man is not here,” he said. “They say he has gone down the hill to the castle.”

  This was not good news. Sans-Souci, though only five miles down an easy road and not nearly the fortress the Citadel was, would be harder to enter. The vast majority of men from the fort were out searching for us, leaving access easier here. With their leader present, the palace would be at full force and, from the paranoia I had seen on the face of the twisted general, I suspected they would be on full alert.

  We moved out right away, wanting to reach the palace before midnight, allowing us several hours of darkness to find the doll and escape. I wondered what afflicted Pierre, still not believing in the voodoo. It had been easier with the first injury, as I had known that the snow would reduce the swelling. I also suspected that the tea Lucy had made from the bark of a tree had something to do with it as well. This time I had no idea what to do. I had never seen a man in his condition.

  We stayed on the road with Blue out f
ront and Rhames as our rear guard, careful to avoid any contact. The road was empty and the going fast. The glow from the lanterns and torches of the palace was visible before the stone walls came into sight.

  I waited for Rhames. “We should get off the road here and send Blue ahead,” I whispered to him.

  “Aye. With this much light we’ll be standing out like a whore in church. The bugger’ll find a way in,” he answered.

  We gathered in a small clearing off the trail and I explained my plan. I wanted to enter through the same gate Pierre had the other night and make our way to the women’s quarters. Shayla had told me they were being held against their will, and I suspected they would help us. With any luck we might find the woman Shayla had spoken of before we set out. They would know how to reach his bedchamber and likely be our best source of help. Without them we would have to fight our way in and, with only four of us, the odds of even reaching the general were stacked against us.

  Blue returned and we followed a small game trail that ran parallel to the road. I had the vaguest of plans that would rely heavily on luck, as most of our ventures did. Blue and Swift backtracked to a spot on the road out of sight of the gate and crossed to the other side. A few minutes later, a pebble landed nearby, the signal that they were in position.

  Stealth was our aim, but we had no idea how many men we would have to get past, so we had our rifles primed and loaded. Ready just in case.

  “Go,” I whispered to Rhames. We crept closer to the edge of the path and I tossed a rock at the gate. Nothing happened. The next throw struck the steel, sending a loud clang into the night. We waited again and I wondered if the guard was asleep. Just as I was about to throw an even larger stone, I heard the sound of boots coming toward us and someone calling out in French.

  The dart landed silently and the man fell to the ground. Blue’s aim as usual was right on. A few minutes later, someone called out what sounded like a name from inside the gate and then we heard footsteps when no one responded. This man suffered the same fate as the other guard, and then we waited. I suspected the guards worked in pairs, and after the silence extended for several minutes, I moved to the wall adjacent to the gate and slid towards the lock with my back against the stone.