Read Online African Ice by Jeff Buick - Free Book Online Page B

to protect Sam’s group. He approached the table, smiling broadly.
    â€œGood morning, my American friends. It is a perfect day for traveling. Not too hot, not too cold.”
    Troy Ramage glanced at the thermometer on the restaurant wall. It was shielded from the morning sun, and it already read ninety-two degrees. “Holy shit,” he muttered. “What do they consider hot around here?”
    Sam checked her watch as the men threw their overnight bags into the Land Rovers. It was over an hour since she’d left Hal’s house. She walked to the corner and peered down the street. She spotted her friend a block away and motioned for him to hurry. He broke into a swift jog and reached the corner a few moments later. They walked to the vehicles and she introduced him to the team. With his easygoing nature, the guys all seemed to accept him. Samantha felt grateful for that.
    â€œHal isn’t exactly an African name,” McNeil remarked to the man as they cruised through Kigali. “How did you end up with it?”
    â€œMy mother only saw one movie in her life. She wanted me to be smart, so she named me after a computer in the movie.”
    â€œ
2001: A Space Odyssey
?” he asked, and the short man nodded. “Interesting way to get a name.”
    â€œHal’s an interesting guy,” Samantha said. “Once you get to know him.” She turned away and glanced out the window at the slums that passed for housing. She knew Hal, and she knew exactly how interesting the little man was. Hal survived in a world that killed most. On the surface he was your typical Rwandan, concerned with everyday survival. But under the facade was another man, one Sam would never have known if not for a small indiscretion on Hal’s part years ago.
    Hal helped people. In a country where greed and corruption controlled almost one hundred percent of the money, he stood tall in the shadows. For years, he had pried money and goods from carefully cultivated sources and redirected it to the people of Kigali who truly needed it, which was just about everybody. No one knew who the clandestine benefactor was and he kept it that way, fearing for his life and the safety of his family. Displays of wealth in Kigali rarely brought anything but heartache and suffering. When destitute people saw something of value, they took it, and often the one driving the car or wearing the jewelry ended up in a pool of blood. Hal was street-smart and kept his identity from those who received the benefits. He could not, however, keep it from the government officials and corrupt businessmen he blackmailed. And that haunted him.
    Hal never condoned the use of blackmail as a means to an end, but it was his only avenue. He had worked for the government in a sensitive department for a few years and had seen the incredible corruption that made the rich richer and the poor poorer. And he had documented it. Pages and pages of information that could destroy reputations and land high-level officials in jail. When he left his post within the government, he used that information to skim some of the dirty money off the top. He picked the vilest of the bunch and demanded they funnel some of the wealth back his way, or else. To a man they capitulated, giving him a source of income that he redistributed as he saw fit. Samantha knew he liked to think of himself as an African Robin Hood. Just shorter, and without the bow and arrow. But it was dangerous and he had many enemies in high places. It was only through sheer coincidence that Sam had stumbled onto an exchange one night four years ago, and Hal had come clean with his agenda. She understood what a good man he was, but it remained their secret.
    They were on the edge of Kigali, and, to a person, they were disgusted. The northeast portion of the city was a squatter’s settlement. The shacks were barely standing, raw sewage was everywhere, and small children picked through heaps of garbage that