African Slave Queen

The theatrically over decorated general gripped the podium tighter and tighter as his highly orchestrated news conference began to turn sour. It had supposed to have been his moment on the world stage; to impress and show everyone what a great and generous leader he was; but now this.

All the cameras continued to focus on his glistening black forehead.

“I’ll repeat my question,” said the young reporter. He narrowed his gaze at the attractive white woman and gave a forced smile.

“Please do.”

Rachel enunciated the words clearly and concisely for the media filled hall.

“You say there is no evidence of your army using chemical weapons against northern separatists groups, however why did you house and pay for the 3 top ex soviet research scientist who specialise in chemical warfare to stay in your country last year? And can you explain the site of mass killings I visited yesterday north of the Butta River?”

Once again he paused before replying then gave a bitter yet revealing answer.

“Miss Goodbody, you have taken my hospitality and use it against me. As a guest of my daughter you have unfairly used the relationship presented to you.”

The audience of news hacks cursed under their breath at her luck at the same time noticing that this was hardly a denial from the bloated General, long serving president of his country. The media scrum then erupted in questions, none the general would answer and as he stormed from the podium he glared back at Rachel as she fended off questions of her own.

Outside the government building Rachel and her news team congratulated themselves on their scoop.

“I got the lot,” laughed Jack her camera man; the sound man nodding in agreement.

“Good,” smiled Rachel wiping her brow in the intense African heat. “The guys back home are pretty pleased; we can syndicate this story all around the world. The UN has demanded that we all see the alleged massacre site tomorrow. We’ve got centre stage!”

As they talked a long black limo screeched to a halt along side them, dust billowing up on the shabby streets. It flew the presidential crest.

“How could you?” Yelled the Western educated voice of a young woman.

Stepping from the limo in a flowing gold dress was Koko; the general’s daughter.

Rachel gave a gulp of embarrassment her face going red. She’d been in this third world country to see her old college friend and do an exclusive on her father. General Mobana the long time ruler of this small east African state was vain and arrogant. He had welcomed the chance to parade in front of a camera. Over the last few week Rachel had being given exclusive access to the general’s inner circle. Koko had never realised her friend had a bigger plan; to unmask his crimes in the civil war that had been raging for nearly a decade.

“Koko I’m sorry but your father; he has to be stopped.”

Slap!

Rachel went flying Koko’s own bodyguards pulling her back to stop more of a beating.

“Get out of my country bitch,” she hissed getting back in the limo, “before I have you thrown out.”

The car sped off her team seeming a little uneasy.

“I’m sorry Koko,” Rachel shouted in remorse as the car sped away. Then looking to her worried team she smiled. “Relax guys, now its out in the open we’re perfectly safe. Ok, let’s get ready for the flight tomorrow, remember I want to get back to those killing fields we exposed before CNN do.”

The next morning the team sat in the rickety Cessna plane double checking their equipment. Jack looked out of the grime window at the stifling heat haze. Across the runway a figure was approaching. In her mid twenties Rachel Goodbody was making a name for herself as her channels feistiest reporter. It helped that she was blessed not only with the tenacity of an alligator but she had the looks any TV station would drool over.

She walked briskly in her heeled sandals long legs hidden just above the knee with a khaki skirt. Her slim waist and schoolgirl like frame were covered in a white baggy linen shirt; but as Jack remembered at ambassador receptions across the world her waif figure beneath had bewitched many a dignitary.

As she reached the plane Rachel adjusted her tied back long blonde mane feeling the sweat already trickling down between her cleavage. Her full lips were dry in the oppressive heat her blue eyes hidden behind designer shades.

“Everyone here? Great, then let’s go boys.”

The view from the plane was spectacular. Deep lush green forest for as far as the eye could see. They were heading north following the Butta River towards the prearranged media site. Today the worlds press would see for themselves what the general was capable of; mass graves of villagers poisoned with mustard gas.

The local pilot suddenly began ranting in excitement then explained in broken English. He had radio traffic hailing him. He pointed to the west and the news crew peered out at an approaching black speck. The black dot grew into an aircraft which approached rapidly and passed directly in front of the tiny plane.

Rachel could see it was one of the countries squadron of Mig 21 fighters. The Mig was an ancient Soviet plane however still fast and deadly.

The air force jet made another slower pass.

“It’s requesting we follow it!” The pilot said in a concerned voice

“Damn general!” Jack hissed. “He doesn’t want us to be there toady.” He looked at the pilot suggesting a solution. “Ignore him.”

The pilot’s eyes widened in fear.

“Jack you can’t escape a jet.” Rachel said frustrated with how the day was going.

“It’s just the generals little game, we’ve already done the damage why is this going to make any difference?” Looking at the two missiles slung under its swept back wings she added. “Let’s not provoke it.”

The Cessna turned east for 30 minutes under the supervision of the air force before a landing strip became visible cut into the dense jungle.

“We must land here,” the pilot shouted over the engine din and he began to descend.

The crew gripped anything they could as the tiny plane bounced along the makeshift dirt runway. Overhead the Mig continued to circle, watching.

There was a flurry of panic in the plane as a group of armed soldiers appeared from shanty huts running towards the parked aircraft.

“Shit!” Jack cried, the sound engineer looking pale.

“Keep calm!” Rachel said gripping both men’s arms. “They’re just trying to spook us.”

The door opened and a smiling officer peered inside.

“Ah Miss Goodbody please forgive me but my general requests he meet you at his personal residence.”

“Rachel scoffed back.” We have nothing to discuss with the general, now can we please get under way.”

The officer continued to smile as a rifle was pointed over his shoulder at the shapely reporter.

“Miss Goodbody I’m afraid he insists.”

Rachel climbed from the plane demanding answers, her team following her. The officer held them back inside the plane.

“No need gentlemen, you must return to your media event. The general only invites Miss Goodbody. Please we have only delayed you a short time you can be back at the site within another hour.”

The young reporter turned and looked at her two team members. “I guess I’ll be along in a bit.” She said a little nervous. Jack was about to explain his concerned when she just held up a hand and nodded.

“Yeah I know I’m on my own but at least you’ll be able to let our channel know where I am.”

Jack nodded. ”Damn right I will.”

Rachel took her bag and strode across the runway towards a waiting limo. She turned to see the Cessna lift into the sky bank and begin to head north again. As the plane became a dark spec she felt the situation quickly change

The polite officer gripped Rachel’s arm firmly. “This way miss; in the truck.” Rachel looked at him then at the army truck and limo ahead of her. She was not impressed.

“It’s about 90 in the shade and you want me to ride in a truck! Forget it! And by the way don’t man-handle me again.”

The officer began to pull her towards the vehicle. Rachel gave a yelp then dug her heels in making the dust billow up. But she still slid towards the vehicle. He shouted orders to his platoon of men and they began to climb in. She reached the rear of the covered truck hair all over the place sweat already covering her face and saw a cage in the foot well about 4 foot square.

“Get in there Miss!” He demanded, burly soldiers grabbing her arms pulling her up as she kicked her legs.

Rachel gave a shriek as her blouse tore the men pushing her into the cage before bolting it closed.

“How dare you, this is outrageous!” She shrieked trying to kick at the steel bars.

The officer closed up the trailer gate obviously taking the air conditioned limo for his ride and then the truck began to head off. Rachel rolled onto her side in a foetal position feeling claustrophobic surrounded by twenty seated jet black skinned soldiers. She called out to them but they all just smiled and grinned chatting amongst themselves in their own tribe language. She recognised them to be from the generals own tribe, his loyalist troops and as she had remembered calling them in front of camera his most despicable.

The journey seemed to last for ever she was dehydrating the sweat covering her skin her clothes sodden with it. One of the soldiers eventually noticed bending down to feed her a water bottle through the bars.

“Drink,” he said gruffly.

She coughed and spluttered then looked up at him. Rachel had wide expressive eyes the light blue of them and small pupils giving her a sensuous piercing stare.

“You have to let me out,” She said more of a plea than a demand now.

“Miss,” he said in a stern heavily accented voice. “You don’t tell people what to do anymore. Understand!”

She was about to reply when the truck came to a halt. The canopy opened and the humid air flooded in to mix with the sauna like conditions inside the truck. Fours trooper slid long poles inside the bars allowing them to lift the cage out. Rachel gripped the bars blinking in the brilliant sunlight her sunglasses crushed somewhere back at the runway.

She was in a concreted compound with guard towers and high walls; the dense jungle closing in around the general’s hidden fort. No doubt from here he conducted his war against the rebels without the prying eyes of foreigners.

She gave a moan of horror as she saw captive rebels hung from nooses or impaled on large spikes.

“Jesus it’s a hell hole,” She screamed feeling her stomach turning.

She was grateful by the time the cage had been carried across the courtyard into a cell block. The cage was placed on the floor then unbolted. Rachel crawled out unsure what to do. Fight, run, both were ridiculous. She gingerly stood straightening her dress adjusting her ripped blouse covering her sweaty heaving chest.

The officer was stood in front of her.

“Listen you piece of shit,” Rachel’s anger now uncontrollable. “I’m an American citizen in this country with my news team. How the hell do you think you can just abduct me? When I see the general he’s going to know who he’s dealing with.”

The officer adjusted his black beret then gave a wide African grin.

“In the cell please Miss the general will be along at his convenience.”

The cell door slammed shut behind her and she found herself in a meagre concrete room. There was a wire bed and a hole in the floor for toilet but nothing else. High above was the ceiling with dirty roof lights. The whole place was dim and incredibly hot and humid.

Rachel undid her blouse slightly her bra poking from the open fabric. Her whole body was dripping in sweat the insides of her thighs hot and sticky her knickers tight in her ass crack. She tightened her pony tail keeping the hair from her beautiful face then bent down to feel her sculpted calves massaging the bronzed skin to get the blood flowing again.

She felt ridiculous in her heeled sandals as she stood in a concrete cell but the floor was too coarse for the soles of her soft western feet so she left them on.

In her head she thought through what would happen. She’d have to be released within a day there no way she could be accused of any crime. Sure injustice happened all the time here, but it would have had to have been before she let rip and told the world about his exploits. The crew had been scared to death for the last three weeks of just disappearing on trumped up charges. But now the entire world would be in uproar.

“TV reporter arrested after finding out truth,” she muttered the head line to herself. If she wasn’t handed back soon this was the kind of shit that could start wars.

She heard footsteps they sounded strange not military at all more like heels. The cell door opened and two huge guards entering holding batons; behind them was Koko the general’s daughter. She was dressed in a tight high heeled cat suit her dark brown skin looking flawless, her long black hair plated into a tail. She always was the athletic type tennis swimming even represented her country in athletic a few years back. Her firm large tits were pressed tightly together held in place by the fabric her cleavage showing as the zip had slightly slid down.

“How are you enjoying your new home?” The arrogant daughter teased. “Not as cosy as our college dorms but well, after all we are in some chicken shit third world country as you would say.”

Rachel shook her head looking at the intimidating group.

“No Koko I’d never said that, why are you being like this?”

Koko gave a sneer of satisfaction. “My father is a powerful man, no one crosses him. I wouldn’t dare; why would you expect to get away with it.”

Rachel felt her anger growing again.

“Because I can Koko; I’m a journalist. I come from a country of free speech.” She then added sarcastically. “Remember you spent years getting educated there.”

Koko didn’t rise to the bait instead paced around the room in her boots like a WW2 German commandant; hands behind her back.

“You think you will be released don’t you?”

Rachel felt her knees buckle at the question. She’d never considered otherwise. She gulped then put back on her business like reporter manner.

“You know full well Koko there’s no way you can keep me here.”

Koko smiled and nodded. “Very well Rachel my father will be arriving soon. We probably won’t get to speak like this again, so just remember I am not the one who betrayed a trust.” And with that she snapped her fingers and led the two guards from the cell.

“Fine by me bitch,” yelled Rachel as she heard her ex friend marched away.

She decided friends like that she could do without.

Rachel tried to sleep that night but the heat made it difficult. It must have been early morning when the cell door clashed open again. Standing there was the large uniformed figure of general Mobana. Once again Rachel began to demand her release.

Slap!

She nearly feinted; her body flung towards the wall the world spinning.

“You do not demand anything from me.” Mobana growled keeping his anger on a short leash. He then took a deep breath calming himself.

“Rachel you have abused the trust of myself and my family. You have dishonoured my country and shamed me in front of millions.”

He had a newspaper in his hand and he flung it towards her.

Rachel gave a long moan as she read. It said that a TV crew, including up and coming star Rachel Goodbody had crashed deep in the jungle after been hit by a rebel missile.

Rachel looked up “But it’s not true we, I…” She paused slowly realising what it meant.

“My Mig blasted them from the sky once it had steered them as far North as it dared. The wreckage is deep inside rebel territory. The rebels will deny the atrocity but without anyone seeing it the world will have to assume the worse.”

Rachel’s eyes widened

“Yes, interfering white bitch you are dead along with your news crew.”

Rachel began to cough in panic. The general gave an amorous groan.

“Oh Miss Goodbody you have such a debt to pay but don’t worry over time you will. How you serve depends on how you live. Pray I don’t bore of you in years to come.”

“Bore, years to come?” It wasn’t adding up or the young woman didn’t want it to.