The Helpers: An International Tale of Espionage and Corruption - Softcover

9781450213226: The Helpers: An International Tale of Espionage and Corruption
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On the surface, Congo seems to be having the usual rebel conflict. Behind the scenes is a different story. "The Helpers" - a very powerful underground organization whose members include international businessmen and high priests are determined to maintain a stronghold on the natural resources of Congo. When American journalist, Jenny Osborne, and her photojournalist, John Spencer, arrive in Kinshasa to report on the rebel situation, they soon discover that things are not as they seem. 

Monsieur Lance Lemmand, a veteran French Intelligence Officer in DRC, suspects the hand of "The Helpers" in the current political unrest. He enlists his protégé, the brilliantand handsome Pierre-Jean Philippe, to help him investigate. When Kai, a local school girl, who is hiding a deep dark secret, decides to take action, she seeks out Jenny for help. Kai gives Jenny damaging information that could bring down"The Helpers." When "The Helpers" find out, they go after Jenny with a vengeance. They will stop at nothing to prevent her from exposing them.

Jenny finds herself on the run, caught in a web of intrigue, espionage and assassinations, spanning from Congo to Europe, and as far reaching as the United States. Her only hope is to find Lance and Pierre who are out of reach. Will Jenny survive long enough to achieve her ultimate goal, fulfill her duty to Kai and sort out her feelings for Pierre? Will Lance and Pierre find her before it is too late? Or will "The Helpers" silence them once and for all.

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From the Author:
Although this is a work of fiction set in modern times, the novel contains reflections of the colonial era going back to King Leopold's brutal reign of Congo in the late 1800s.
From the Inside Flap:

The phone attached to the radio transmitter rang and jolted Pierre out of his daydream. It rang once, twice--an emergency. He quickly rushed to a room behind the kitchen. He glanced at the switchboard: the call was from Code Quarto, on the Island of Comoros. This was not a good sign. Pierre started to sweat profusely. He jumped to lock the door, flicked on the switch, latched a scrambler on the mouthpiece, and grabbed a pad.

"Yes, A1, come in," he said as he took a pen. He listened intently to the voice at the other end of the phone. He quickly started to write notes--all the time perspiring.

After what seemed like an eternity, he asked, "Is this for certain, A1?"

"Yes, monsieur," came the reply.

"Thank you."

He put the set down and stared at the transmitter in disbelief. Sweat turned to rivulets of perspiration as he considered the implications of what he had just learned.

"Goddamn it! Why didn't anyone notify me earlier?" he shouted out loud as he placed a call to his boss.

"Boss, we need to meet immediately. I just received a call from Code Quarto."

"I will meet you in the office in an hour," his boss responded.

He looked at the paper of code that was still in his hand. Years of reading coded messages had made him an expert at decoding information. He took a match from his pocket and burned the paper. It turned into dust.

This new information was disturbing. A few days ago, he'd heard a rumor of plans to get rid of the Congolese President if he signed a peace agreement with the rebels. Subsequent investigation had revealed that the culprits were extremists who had no contacts whatsoever with either the government or the rebels.

He got up slowly and made his way to the living room. He picked up all the scattered papers in a daze and deposited them in the safe. He was drenched and his clothes were sticking to his back as he headed to the bathroom and jumped in the shower. He dried himself still thinking about the message. He put on a pair of baggy khaki pants and a jean shirt with a white T-shirt underneath and then combed his hair. Pierre didn't like cologne; all he used was aftershave.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror and saw a man with black hair, cut almost military style. At thirty-two years of age, Pierre was in excellent shape. He was six feet two inches tall and very handsome, but he did not seem to be aware of it, which made him even more appealing. He had never been a ladies' man, and his job was not conducive to a relationship, so he shied away from committed relationships. One last look in the mirror convinced him that he was ready. He looked around the room before he picked up his briefcase and headed toward the front door.

Once outside, he could hear guns going off in the distance. Pierre had heard about the conflict, corruption, and craziness in Congo before he arrived, but nothing had prepared him for the chaos of Kinshasa. There was a war still going on between different facets of the government and the rebels. The city itself was full of people, soldiers mixed with civilians. Nobody seemed to understand completely what the war was about, except for the fact that the rebels belonged to the minority group and they were closing in.

Unlike other expatriates who lived in the Gombe area, the political and business district of Kinshasa, Pierre lived alone, outside the city center of Kinshasa. He wasn't particularly fond of the city and the large crowds, and sometimes the temperature could be hot and unbearable, but he enjoyed the culture, music and local food. Still, he preferred his privacy and needed it for a good reason. If his colleagues were aware of his activities, their lives would be jeopardized. He locked the door and turned on the alarm system, which he had installed the moment he rented the house. The system was sufficient to ward off ordinary burglars, but it wasn't much of a deterrent to professionals.

His garage was only about twenty paces from his house. Pierre looked around carefully to make sure everything was in order before he opened the garage. He cursed the idiot who had built the house for not having been a little sharper; a lot of things could happen while a man walked that distance. The car he had acquired was a white Peugeot that was over three years old. He liked it because it was inconspicuous, and he loved the sound of its engine. He got in the car, deposited his briefcase on the passenger seat, and started the engine. He felt the surge of power at the sound of screeching tires as he took off.

He joined the traffic on the main road heading to his office as he mulled over the repercussions of the disturbing information he had just received. A hand-held surface-to-air missile had been acquired a week ago in South Africa and transported to Congo without anybody noticing anything. It had been shipped to Kinshasa, although it was not on the list of incoming ammunition. Pierre glanced outside his right window. Visibility was much better and he could see the Congo River clearly in the distance. Thank God it was April and the rainy season was mostly over. Pierre hated to drive in the rain.

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  • PublisherIuniverse Inc
  • Publication date2010
  • ISBN 10 1450213227
  • ISBN 13 9781450213226
  • BindingPaperback
  • Number of pages500
  • Rating

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