As the next year passed things were quiet. Then, at the beginning of Samuel's third year of duty they began to have increasing trouble with smugglers. The governments of Kenya and Tanzania were cracking down on shipments coming through their territories from the interior. So the drug dealers were pushing further north, trying to find new routes to get their poison to the coast. Samuel's men stretched thin, had a hard time coping. He, himself, started going out on patrols. Twice they got in fierce running gun battles with smugglers. All the local leaders cracked down on any of their people helping the smugglers but still they got bolder and bolder, more and more ruthless.
Samuel was after one of the worst bands one night when one of his patrols called in.
"Sir!" its young leader requested, "I'd really appreciate it if you'd come down here. We've caught some men. They're not smugglers but I think you'd better see what they were doing."
The urgency of the man's voice made Samuel rush to his position. "What is it?" Samuel asked. "What's got you so upset?"
"We were lying in wait," the younger man answered, "expecting the smugglers where we saw these men drive into the brush. They took something out of their vehicle, threw it into the brush and started to drive off. I didn't like the look of it, so we cut them off. They fired shots at us until they realized they were outnumbered, then surrendered.
When we went to recover what they had thrown in the brush, this is what we found."
He went to the back of the truck and lifted the blanket. Underneath it was the body of a white girl, probably thirteen or fourteen years old. She had obviously been brutally tortured. A wire was tightened around her neck with which she had been strangled.
Samuel stared at the horrible sight for a few moments then excused himself, walked off and vomited. A few moments later he composed himself and returned. "My apologies!" he remarked.
The young soldier shook his head. "Quite understandable, sir."
"Where are they?" Samuel snapped.
"Over here," the soldier answered. He led Samuel to where the men were being detained.
"Who," Samuel asked, "is responsible for that? Speak up! Tell me, now!"
The men simply looked at him and would not answer. "Strip them!" Samuel ordered. "Tie them to a bush out there, and scratch their legs so there's a little blood. Then we'll leave. We'll find out who their truck belongs to. Take a little longer, but we'll still get the information."
"No!" one of the men cried, "We wouldn't last ten minutes after you leave! We'd be eaten alive!"
"Who do you work for?" Samuel answered, "Now!"
The man looked at his companion who was obviously as terrified as him. "Mr. Zuti!" he finally remarked.
Samuel looked to the others. "A governmental minister, sir," one of the men explained, "very influential. Good friend of the president. He's got a large estate about a half hour's drive from here."
"Load up!" Samuel cried.
They were soon making rapid time over the rough roads. As they approached the estate Samuel found it was heavily guarded. He grabbed the prisoners. "You're going to help us get in!" he remarked, "If you do I'll see to it your miserable lives are spared. You don't, I'll personally jerk the handle on the chopper. Do you understand me?"
"Yes sir!" the man answered.
Taking their truck and putting six of their men in the back, they drove up to the gate.
"Well, it's about time!" the gate keeper remarked. "You'd better get back to the pleasure house. They're working on another one. You may have to go back out again tonight."
Suddenly one of Samuel's men came up behind him and had him in a headhold before he could cry out.
"Go!" Samuel ordered. "To this pleasure house! NOW!"
Their prisoners quickly drove through the compound and came to one of the bunkers many of the rich people in the area had built for emergencies during the fighting. The outer door was open and as Samuel crept inside he found the inner one was open. Only a curtain kept the light in and the bugs out.
Around the inside of the bunker dozens of young women were chained to the wall. They lay on simple mattresses, potties between them. They were naked. Two men were sexually assaulting two of them. In the middle of the room four more men had a girl strapped into a kind of chair. One was having intercourse with her, while the others were torturing her.
Samuel motioned two of his men to go after those with the young ladies on the mattress. They nodded, understanding his instructions. Samuel drew his pistol and with the others following him made for the center of the room.
"Get off her!" he screamed. "Put that down! Get back! Get your hands up in the air!"
One of the men turned, screamed at him and charged forward with the red hot iron he was holding. Samuel shot him, point blank, in the face. He fell to the floor, thrashed a few moments, and then lay still. One of the other men began to bellow.
"Who in the hell are you? What do you think you're doing? This is none of your business! I'm a friend of the president! You'll be put out of the country for this! This is none of your concern!"

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