Chapter 2
NIGHT ATTACKS
Colonel Melt Fleerackers, head of the police in the Belgian Congo, blows the blue cigar smoke in front of him, while he looks at the muscular jungle giant in front of him with undisguised admiration. He has never seen such symmetrical muscles and such a beautiful physique on any man in his many wanderings across the world.
He immediately likes the young man in front of him, with his youthful appearance that testifies to zest for life and stored energy. The strong, attractive face, those bright piercing eyes, and the shiny blonde hair tied in his neck with a pigskin thong.
The Jungle Hawk, who is sitting in a soft armchair in the luxurious office of the police chief, an office that feels wonderfully cool amidst the tropical heat that prevails outside, feels slightly uncomfortable here between the four walls.
His whole being longs for the freedom of the jungle that he loves. The cheerful babbling of the forest apes, the stealthy tread of the leopard, the roar of the powerful maned lion, the trumpeting of the forest elephant, the shiny backs of the hippos, which can bite a rickety native boat in half with one bite.
On one side sits Sergeant Popma. Together with him, the Jungle Hawk and the company of South Africans traveled by seaplane to Leopoldstad, from the Congo River. From here, they will travel by rail, by boat, and overland to Banana, on the Atlantic Ocean, from where they will then return to South Africa.
Colonel Fleerackers coughs, presses the cigar into the ashtray on the shiny desk, and says. “As we have already explained to you, evil is brewing in the Congo Basin. You will have to find out what it involves exactly for us. It is a task that will require a lot and may possibly mean your death. However, you are the only person who can help us. That is why we are so glad that you have agreed...”
Colonel Fleerackers opens a drawer and takes out Lieutenant Pierre France’s code book. “According to the secret code information of Lieutenant France, somewhere in the Congo Basin there is a training place where members of one of the most feared underground sabotage and espionage organizations in the world are training natives in violence. The organization is known as the Octopus.
“Lieutenant France was captured six months ago by members of the organization after he was hot on their trail. He was blindfolded, transported by plane to a place somewhere in the Congo Basin that is called the Hammer by the Octopus organization. It makes up one of the many rugged mountain ranges in the area in question. Unfortunately, he could not indicate to us exactly where the place is located. You will also have to determine that for yourself. However, we have a suspicion that it may be somewhere here,” he points to a map on the wall.
A car roars past under the window. Further away, the call of one of the tame elephants, which is used to pull heavy loads, can be heard.
“As you can see for yourself, these areas are surrounded by vast swamps and some of the densest forests in the entire Belgian Congo. They even claim that animals are found in the area that have never been seen by a human eye, except perhaps by the pygmies. No white foot has yet entered the world...”
The Hawk, a lover of the strange and impassable parts of the world, has his interest in the enterprise increase by the second.
“We will transport you by seaplane to here tomorrow, at this tributary of the Congo. From there, you will have to go further by yourself. If you locate the place of evil, you can go to Kaanga. It lies here.”
He points to the map again. “From there you can contact us by radio. The police there have radio connections with us.”
The full moon bulges high above the tropics. Thin clouds move past the night watch briefly, and plunge the Congo forest into inky black darkness. The
