Raw Deception Read online

  RAW

  Deception

  Round 2

  In the Raw Instinct series

  Lee Quail

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  RAW Deception

  All Rights Reserved.

  Copyright © 2019 Lee Quail

  The author has asserted his moral right

  as the sole author of this work.

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  Cover images courtesy of 123RF

  Cover designed by Lee Quail

  Set in Times New Roman 12pt

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  ISBN PRINT EDITION: 9781673165906

  Imprint: Independently published

  Lee Quail currently resides in South Africa where he has a full-time position with a worldwide media company.

  RAW is his second MM novel.

  Gideon (2018)

  MM Dystopian Thriller

  RAW (2019)

  Round 1 in the RAW Instinct Series

  MM Sports Romance

  RAW Deception

  Round 2 in the RAW Instinct Series

  (Releasing December 17th 2019)

  Part One

  1

  Tuesday

  The Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC)

  North Kivu Province

  A worn woman, well into her eighties, made the sign of the cross, while a middle-aged man closed his eyes and invoked a few words of prayer as the Oryx descended onto a makeshift helipad made from clay on the outskirts of Northern Kivu in the heart of the Democratic Republic of Congo.

  In the hour before dusk, a platoon of South African infantrymen, weapons ready, surrounded the aircraft well out of the way of the rotor downwash. A few moments later the passengers disembarked, some smiling, some scattering away from the heady downward wind. A man fell prostrate and kissed the ground, overjoyed to be safe and alive. All of them victims of heartbreak without a safety net. Each living like this day would be their last.

  Lieutenant Colonel Gregory Basye Sander turned to his crew, Lieutenant Jacob Morwane and flight engineer Warrant Officer Dirk Pieterse. Both had served with him on previous occasions throughout the DRC during the last ten years. “Let’s get this bird back to base, gentlemen. Tomorrow we hit South Africa. Time to celebrate!”

  “One more sleep and we’re out of here,” Dirk said, checking the instrument panels above him. “We’re good to go, Sir.”

  Gregory turned to face Dirk and winked. For a moment, Dirk’s lips twitched into a brief smile.

  “I bet you’re looking forward to seeing your boys again, hey Dirk,” Gregory said, pulling up slowly on the collective. The aircraft slowly left the ground, hovered, and gently moved forward, aggravating the loose gravel surrounding the helipad.

  “Those twins are more trouble than pleasure,” Dirk said. “But, you’re right, nothing like family.”

  Family.

  Gregory flinched at the mention of the word.

  His family was the South African Air Force. His home, Waterkloof Air Base. The love of his life, the Oryx helicopter.

  To hell with the rest.

  “Base to OryxB12. We have a situation. Handing you over to General Miyani. Over.”

  Gregory frowned. Impossible. Miyani did not communicate down the ranks. He had a chain of command. “We’re listening,” Gregory replied.

  The next voice he heard was Miyani’s. “Colonel, we have a situation. I need you to redirect and offer support to the UN ground forces. Militia insurgency just south of Kivu.”

  “Do we have additional air support, General?” Gregory asked.

  “Unfortunately not. The ground forces are busy with a massive operation against the rebels. They’re in trouble and there are no attack helicopters for the UN this evening, they’ve asked us to assist with the Oryx.”

  “Sir, with all due respect, we have no weapons on board.”

  “Lives are at stake, Colonel. Use whatever you have to deter the rebels.”

  “As you wish, sir. Redirecting towards South Kivu.”

  “Good luck, Colonel.”

  The line went dead and Gregory made a sweeping turn across the valley.

  The Congo. A humid pitch-dark cave larger than Portugal filled with batshit. Only fools gathered here to help in a twenty-four year territorial war, the worst kind of war.

  The knuckles on Gregory Basye Sander’s hands turned a pale white as he gripped the chopper’s control yolk tight and stiff. Suddenly, natural, relaxed banter with his crew became impossible.

  “Coordinates, Dirk.” His crew swung into action mode. Each of them had a job to do. If any of them faltered, the mission would fail. Dirk scoured the instrument panel before him and punched in a series of codes. A map of Southern Kivu appeared on a screen and he hurriedly recited the co-ordinates to Gregory.

  “Damn!” Jacob said, shaking his head. “Why now? Why tonight? We’re not engaged with the enemy, how can they do this on the eve of our departure?”

  “The UN wants help and without weapons we’re fucked. Suggestions guys,” Gregory said.

  Jacob laughed out loud. “We could do a number two over their heads.”

  Gregory grunted loudly. Long furrows stretched taut across his brow. He didn’t see the humour in that remark. His attention turned to Dirk, seated behind him.

  “Any ideas back there?”

  “Like you said, without weapons we’re literally fucked.”

  “There is a way,” Gregory said, smiling absentmindedly. “Without weapons all we can do is distract and intimidate. If we fly a simulated attack helicopter profile on their positions and shoot our self-protection flares to light up the area for the UN, I think we could create a diversion. If the rebels have missiles, our flares could also act as a diversion. It’s getting dark quickly.”

  Dirk nodded and said, “Then we have the advantage. The chopper is dark so the rebels won’t have a clear target.”

  “Plus we have night vision equipment,” Jacob said.

  Gregory turned to face each of them, and with a nod, said, “Let’s rock ‘n roll gentlemen.”

  South Kivu had become infamous in the area for its unrelenting, murderous insurgent factions who sucked gratuitously on the local population’s fear. In war, nothing is fair and nothing is taken for granted. Everything is driven by fear. Fighting in a different country, in a war not of one’s own making or belief, amplified Gregory’s fear of dying away from home. He had learned to suffocate that fear by watching Marlon Brando in the movie Apocalypse Now. He’d watched that movie a gazillion times.

  The Democratic Republic of Congo loathed weaklings, and as he manoeuvred the chopper towards the valley in South Kivu, Gregory prayed that his idea would work. If it didn’t, the trio could wind up going home in a body bag.

  “Night vision glasses on.” Gregory reached under his seat for his night vision equipment, as did Jacob and Dirk. “Jacob, chopper lights off.”

  Jacob flipped a switch on the panel above and the earth went dark. Flying blind, the chopper circled the area once while Dirk readied the flares and approached the chopper doors.

&nbs
p; “Wait on my command,” Gregory ordered. He wanted the best possible angle of defence before giving the go ahead to lop the flares. Through a green field of vision, Gregory spotted the rebels on the ground. “Jesus! There must be at least sixty of them,” he said. “They’re looking up trying to locate us. Dropping to 200 feet. As we sweep over them, I’m going to lift and turn immediately and come in again, like a yo-yo. Are you ready, Dirk?”

  “Ready as ever, Colonel.” Dirk stood at the door with a flare in his hand and several more in a box at his feet.

  “Now!” Gregory said, not taking his eyes off the militia on the ground.

  Dirk immediately lit a flare and threw it out. He watched as it floated towards the rebel soldiers. A bright light lit up the earth and sky as the flare dropped.

  “They’re scattering back into the bush. I’m going up. Hold on, Dirk!”

  Dirk held onto the frame above as the centre of gravity suddenly pushed him down. Gregory circled the chopper and bounced down again.

  “Now!” Gregory said a second time.

  Sweating from the effort of fighting the force of gravity, Dirk released the second flare and watched as the militia scattered even deeper into the bush.

  Again and again, the chopper came down on them. They fled while the UN ground forces chased after them with live ammunition. Scores fell, never to rise again. Dirk continually released the flares until two insurgents remained.

  “One flare left, Colonel,” he informed.

  “Keep it for our return to base. I think we’re done here…” Gregory said, while punching a button on his headphones. “OryxB12 to Base. Hostile forces effectively rendered inoperative.”

  He held his breath waiting for base to reply. Hoping the mission was accomplished, he folded his palm into a tight thumb hold.

  “Commander Ecclestone of the UN forces to Lieutenant Colonel Basye Sander. Wonderful job, Commander. Thanks for your help, over.”

  “Glad to have helped, Commander. If there’s nothing else you need, we’ll be on our way.”

  “Extraordinary job, Colonel. Have a safe flight back. Thank you again. I hope to meet you one day.”

  “No problem, Commander. Over and out.”

  ***

  General Miyani patted Gregory on the back and said, “We have the very best pilots on the continent. Job well done, Colonel. I believe you’re going back to South Africa tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m proud of you men, you came up with a genius plan that I would never have thought of. Whose idea was it to use the flares?”

  Dirk spoke with a smile in his wide eyes. “That would be Colonel Basye Sander, sir.”

  “Genius, Colonel. Now go and clean yourselves up and enjoy your last night in the bar.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Gregory saluted then turned and walked a few metres before Dirk caught up with him.

  “Hey, Greg! Thanks for bringing us back alive.”

  “Teamwork, Dirk. Without you and Jacob we might not have been successful.”

  “What you did out there was brave, Greg. You knew the danger. You saved our lives, civilian lives and the lives of the UN contingent.”

  “Stop, Dirk. It’s part of the job. You’re the one who did all the dangerous work.”

  “I’m proud being on your team, Greg. I hope that means something.”

  “Go shower, Dirk.”

  “You joining me in the shower?”

  Gregory frowned. His heart skipped a beat. The look in his eyes warmed and the frown turned to a smile. “I have some things to take care of, like pack and write some stuff. I’ll see you later in the bar.”

  ***

  In his sparsely furnished tent with an uncomfortable steel wire single bed, steel trunk, cabinet and canteen chair, Gregory sat on his bed dressed in paratrooper pants with deep pockets, and a black tank top strumming his guitar to a song he’d written to remind himself how easy it is to lose in the game of love.

  He strummed the last chord and lay his head back on the pillow, thinking of the life he had chosen, of how he felt the moment Dirk mentioned the word “family” earlier in the chopper.

  No matter how often or deep he analysed or asked questions he always came to one conclusion; he had a son, but not a family.

  Deep down, he knew the truth. A truth he perceived as a weakness and strength, even though he had closed all the doors to his heart because of it.

  He didn’t see Dirk standing in the doorway of the tent with arms folded across his chest. “Did you write that?”

  Dirk bent his head as he entered the tent. He stood tall in black shorts and a navy-blue air force t-shirt. An imposing man whose tanned skin glowed in the dim light. His fair, curly hair seemed thicker with more than a handful of gel rubbed through it. The light enhanced his lean face with a softly shaped jaw, a hooked nose, and narrow lips.

  “I came to say goodbye. You’re going straight into a three week vacation and I’m going back to my wife and kids and to fly banal errands for the government.”

  Gregory smiled and beckoned him closer. Dirk took a seat at the desk.

  “There are times when I yearn for a family,” Gregory said. “I had an opportunity years ago to marry the mother of my boy. You know about Edward. I’ve mentioned him several times. I just wish I had been there for him, you know. It’s far too late now. There's no way to make amends for all those lost years. ”

  “It’s never too late to start.”

  Dirk moved from his chair and sat beside Gregory on the bed. He placed an arm around his athletic shoulders and squeezed. “Contact him. Meet him. Tell him your story.”

  “Sounds so simple.”

  “It isn’t simple, Greg. It’s one of the hardest things - and complicated. Just let him know that you’re there.”

  “I’ve been looking. I lost contact with him and his mother seventeen years ago. I don’t know where he is. Last time I heard from her brother she’d inherited a ton of money.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  Greg nodded.

  “What happened?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got the whole night.”

  “Maybe another time.”

  “Open your laptop,” Dirk said, pointing at the metallic Mac Air on the table.

  “Why?”

  “You want to find your son, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “No buts. Open the damned laptop.”

  “I’ve checked all the options on the Internet, Dirk. They’re all about adopted kids. Edward wasn’t adopted. He went with his mother.”

  “What about Ancestry24?”

  “I’ve checked. The site doesn’t exist.”

  “Maybe he has a Facebook profile. You have a Facebook profile, right?” Dirk asked.

  Gregory hunched. “Nope.”

  “You’re not serious. Twitter?”

  “Yes, but not Facebook.”

  “Okay, I’m creating a Facebook account for you.”

  Gregory’s eyes widened. Facebook had been through some heady scandals in the last few years, all reasons for him staying away from it. “Whatever floats your boat.”

  After twenty minutes of registering, Gregory finally had an account for all the world to see and he laughed out loud. “I never thought I would see the day.”

  “In the search bar I’m going to type in your son’s name, Edward Basye Sander and see what pops up.”

  “His name is Edward Canton. I never married his mother,” Gregory said.

  Dirk typed in the name and a short list of names suddenly appeared. Gregory went through each one of them. They came from places around the globe of which he’d never heard. But one, a South African, stood out. A picture of a golden haired, blue-eyed man accompanied by a short profile.

  “Jesus, that looks like him. I’m sure that’s him.”

  Dirk clicked on the name and a page opened to reveal a short list of personal information:

  3 items for you t
o review

  • Intro

  Ex-Boxer. Horticulturist

  •Landscaper

  •Studied at Technicon RSA

  •Went to Pretoria Boys High

  •From Johannesburg

  •Married to Rawson Curisco

  •Followed by 47 people

  “How do we get hold of him?” Gregory asked.

  Dirk showed him by clicking the “Add Friend” button.

  “How long before he gets this?”

  “Depends on how often he looks at his page. Could be minutes, hours or days. You just have to wait and see.”

  “Fuck! This is awesome. How can I thank you?”

  “What about this…”

  Dirk suddenly kissed him and just as suddenly withdrew. Gregory, thrown off guard by this sudden move, felt his stomach churn and moved his head back. His eyes widened as shock sent adrenaline throughout his body.

  Staring into Dirk’s eyes, Gregory said,

  “We can’t do this, Dirk. You yourself said so the last time we made love.”

  Dirk stared at Gregory’s face with dancing eyes that sought the pleasure of a time, not so long ago, when their bodies intertwined like the twisted arms of vines. Gregory felt a nervous twitch below his left eye and moved away to create space between them. “Jesus, Greg, it was just a quick kiss.”

  “That was you looking for some kind of answer to some kind of question. I’m overjoyed that you found Edward and put me on Facebook. But, you were right last time when you said you wanted out of this. I’ve given you that space and I won’t take the pain that comes with you.”

  “I know what I said, Greg. And you’ve been pretty amazing about it all. But, I was wrong. Maybe I want this more than you’ll ever know. Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

  “How long have we been in this godforsaken place, Dirk?”

  “Two months.”

  “In those two months you’ve avoided me like I’m some kind of plague. Not once did you visit. We only saw each other on sorties. You come to me now, on the last night of our mission and … fuck it,” Gregory placed his guitar into the black leather case and zipped it closed; “Your wife and the twins come first. Four months ago I wanted more, but I don’t want to be the one who breaks the soul of your family.”