‘Worst case, we’ve had an interesting drive,’ Jack said.
An hour later, everyone met again in the dining room. Jack reminded the
others that going to Cogo wasn’t a command performance, and that those
people who preferred to stay in Bata should do so. He said that he’d
been told it might take four hours each way.
‘You think you can make out on your own?’ Esteban asked.
‘Absolutely,’ Jack said. ‘It’s not as if we’ll be getting lost. The map
indicates only one main road heading south. Even I can handle that.’
‘Then I think I’ll stay,’ Esteban said. ‘I have more family I’d like to
see.’
By the time they were on the road with Warren in the front passenger
seat and the two women in the middle seat, the eastern sky was just
beginning to show a faint glow of dawn. As they drove south they were
shocked at how many people were walking along the road on their way into
the city. There were mostly women and children and most of the women
were carrying large bundles on their heads.
‘They don’t seem to have much, but they appear happy,’ Warren commented.
Many of the children stopped to wave at the passing van. Warren waved
back.
The outskirts of Bata dragged by. The cement buildings eventually
changed to simple whitewashed mud brick structures with thatched roofs.
Reed mats formed corrals for goats.
Once completely out of Bata, they began to see stretches of incredibly
lush jungle.
Traffic was almost nonexistent save for occasional large trucks going in
the opposite direction. As the trucks went by, the wind jostled the van.
‘Man, those truckers move,’ Warren commented.
Fifteen miles south of Bata, Warren got out the map. There was one fork
and one turn in the road that they had to navigate appropriately or lose
considerable time. Signs were almost nonexistent.
When the sun came up, they all donned their sunglasses. The scenery
became monotonous, uninterrupted jungle except for occasional tiny
clusters of thatched huts. Almost two hours after they’d left Bata, they
turned onto the road that led to Cogo.
‘This is a much better road,’ Warren commented as Jack accelerated up to
cruising speed.
‘It looks new,’ Jack said. The previous road had been reasonably smooth,
although its surface appeared like a patchwork quilt from all the
separate repairs.
They were now heading southeast away from the coast and into
considerably denser jungle. They also began to climb. In the distance
they could see low, jungle-covered mountains.
Seemingly out of nowhere came a violent thunderstorm. Just prior to its
arrival the sky became a swirling mass of dark clouds. Day turned to
night in the space of several minutes. Once the rain started, it came
down in sheets, and the van’s old, ragged windshield wipers could not
keep up with the downpour. Jack had to slow to less than twenty miles an
hour.
Fifteen minutes later, the sun poked out between massive clouds, turning
the road into a ribbon of rising steam. On a straight stretch, a group
of baboons crossing the road looked as if they were walking on a cloud.
After passing through the mountains, the road turned back to the
southeast. Warren consulted the map and told everyone they were within
twenty miles of their destination.
Rounding another turn, they all saw what looked like a white building in
the middle of the road.
‘What the hell’s this?’ Warren said. ‘We’re not there yet, no way.’
‘I think it’s a gate,’ Jack said. ‘I was told about this only last
night. Keep your fingers crossed. We might have to switch to plan B.’
As they got closer, they could see that on either side of the central
structure were enormous white, lattice-work fences. They were on a
roller mechanism so they could be drawn out of the way to permit
vehicles to pass.
Jack braked and brought the van to a stop about twenty feet from the
fence. Out of the two-story gate house stepped three soldiers dressed
similarly to those who’d been guarding the private jet at the airport.
Like the soldiers at the airport, these men were carrying assault
rifles, only these men were holding their guns waist high, aimed at the