Chapter 3: Probing the Black Market

The afternoon sun at the market filtered through the uneven gaps in the tree canopy, dappling the damp earth in a patchwork of light and shadow. Fine dust motes hung suspended in the air, drifting slowly through the slanted beams of sunlight like particles of time itself. The distant clamor of the crowds faded into the background, as if walled off by some invisible tension. This was no longer a rowdy, ordinary trading floor. The probe into the Black Market had just begun, the air thick with a taut, silent tension where even the rustle of leaves seemed deliberate and sharp.

Mbare stood at the end of the path, his figure flickering in and out of the shadows. A silver chain dangled from his hand, swinging gently with his breath. Tied to the end of the chain was half a rhinoceros horn, its surface glistening with a wet, dark crimson hue. It was the specific shade of fresh blood as it dried, looking horrifying under the dim light. A slick smile hung on his face, the arc of his grin calibrated to a precision that was unsettling to look at. His eyes, however, were like muddy ground after a rainstorm. Slippery, impossible to grip, and bottomless.

Gabriel didn't retreat. He stood his ground, breathing steadily. He simply rotated the Bronze Drum in his hands, angling the face eastward to catch the last slanting rays of sunlight. This drum was a heirloom from his ancestors, and in his hands right now, it felt heavy and solemn. Amina stood beside Gabriel, her hands clasped in front of her, her gaze calmly scanning the rhino horn in Mbare’s hand. Her brow furrowed slightly. As an analyst at the Research Station, she could smell a discordant note in an instant. That mix of rust and rotting flesh was more alarming than the horn itself.

Mbare took a step forward, his foot crushing a thick layer of dead leaves. The slight crunch of the debris was startlingly clear in the dead silence of the space.

Mbare split his mouth in a grin, deliberately lifting the silver chain so the links clinked against each other, making a fine, metallic chime. A small bronze drum sat on his belt buckle, glowing with a faint sheen in the sunlight. Its engravings bore a striking resemblance to the ancient totems on the larger drum in Gabriel’s hand. His tone was light, laced with a bit of coaxing, as he tried to break this suffocating silence.

“Gabriel, old friend, stop playing dumb with me.” Mbare swung the silver chain, tracing an arc in the air with the half-rhinoceros horn at the end. “This horn is an heirloom from my ancestors. I’ve left it with you as a deposit, so you can rest easy. Once the heat dies down, we’ll settle the score properly. See, I’m even waiving the interest up front.”

Gabriel’s gaze was iron, fixed on that half horn. He didn’t reach out. His voice was low, like distant thunder rolling through the clouds, shaking the nerves of everyone nearby.

“Heirloom?” Gabriel let out a cold scoff, his fingers lightly tapping the drum head. “Mbare, you don’t have that kind of thing in your family. There’s blood on this horn, and it’s fresh. Tell me, which grove did this rhino die in?”

Mbare’s expression flickered for a second, but he quickly recovered his smooth facade. He fidgeted with the jade bangle on his wrist, the friction making a faint *click* that betrayed his inner unease.

“Hey, Gabriel, you’re being too paranoid. It’s out there on the savannah, how do you tell new from old? I brought it out, so take it as a sign of my sincerity.” Mbare dropped his voice, leaning forward to use the closeness to apply pressure. “If you refuse me, I’ll take it back and sell it to a buyer in Cairo. Honestly, that one you’re holding won’t fetch a good price anyway.”

Amina stepped forward, the click of her heel against the ground sharp and decisive. She held a folded report in her hand, her fingertips lightly tapping the cross-section of the horn. Her movements were professional and restrained.

“Mbare, your pitch is polished, but facts don’t lie to science.” Amina’s tone was as cold as the morning mist in the rainforest. “There are residual sedative compounds in the keratin layers of this horn. It was taken from a northern population that was illegally drugged within the last three weeks. Your ‘heirloom’ logic doesn’t hold water here. Who exactly are you trying to fool?”

Mbare’s smile froze on his face. His eyes darted around, and he began to shrink back. He glanced at the onlookers, who seemed ordinary but watched with burning intensity, searching for an escape route.

Gabriel didn’t look at him. Instead, he slowly pulled a black booklet from his waist. The cover was stamped with gold leaf that shimmered in the sunlight, bearing the joint certification seal of the Tribal Alliance and the Research Station.

“I’m not selling, and I’m not buying.” Gabriel’s voice wasn’t loud, but every word was clear, like a hammer striking steel. “Mbare, seven batches of rhino horns you’ve handled in the last three months, five of which have documented shipping records that I’ve already compiled. This isn’t a threat, it’s evidence. The one you’re holding right now is just a test for the next batch. Do you want to continue, or do you want to stop?”

Mbare hissed through his teeth, the slick facade on his face crumbling instantly to reveal the viciousness underneath. His pupils constricted, and the blue veins in his temples pulsed.

“You’re crazy! You dare mess with me?” Mbare advanced, his finger almost poking Gabriel’s nose. “Do you know the consequences of crossing me? All the herbs, food, and transport lines in this market are in my hands. If you report me, I’ll make sure your tribe dies of thirst and starvation! The rules of your little protected zone are worthless in front of me!”

The air around them froze to its limit. Even the wind stopped moving.

Gabriel didn’t step back; he stepped forward. He looked calmly into Mbare’s eyes, watching him like a drowning man making his last struggle.

“Rules?” Gabriel repeated the word, as if weighing its mass. “Amina, tell him what our rules are.”

Amina opened the report, her pace steady, each word clear and strong.

“According to the latest resolution from the Community Council of Elders, any wild animal within the protected zone has the highest level of legal protection. Illegal traders will not only be cut off from all resource supply chains, but they will also face criminal prosecution. Mbare, you represent the Black Market, but this is also the community. Under the gaze of everyone here, do you dare to bet?”

In the distance, a heavy set of footsteps approached. It was the distinctive rhythm of Elder Kofi, each step falling like a heartbeat on the earth. The old man leaned on his staff, standing deep within the shadow of the trees, his presence a solemn, silent judgment.

Elder Kofi spoke slowly, his voice raspy but powerful, cutting through the surrounding noise.

“Gabriel is right. The Community Council of Elders has confirmed its support for scientific protection and its opposition to illegal trade. Anyone who dares break this consensus is an enemy of the tribe. Mbare, do you understand?”

Mbare weighed his options. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, sliding down his cheeks. Forced confrontation meant violating both modern law and tribal consensus, with unthinkable consequences. He glared resentfully, then jerked his hand back, re-attaching the rhino horn to the silver chain. He faked tidying his collar to mask his panic.

“Fine, fine. Gabriel, you win.” Mbare squeezed out an ugly smile, his eyes still lingering with venom. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m taking this horn myself. Whoever wants it can kiss my ass. We’ll meet again later. I hope you don’t regret this.”

He turned to leave, his steps hurried. The scraping of his soles against the gravel was frantic. Gabriel didn’t say a word. He simply raised his hand and lifted the Bronze Drum, giving it a light strike.

*Thud.*

The drumbeat was short, with immense penetrating power, echoing through the rainforest. Gabriel closed his eyes, feeling the basic detection function passed down with the artifact. A faint metallic signal revealed itself in the lingering resonance of the drum sound. It was a tracking beacon hidden inside the rhino horn, its frequency concealed, virtually impossible to detect without the drum’s special resonance.

Amina quickly caught the signal fluctuation, a sharp glint flashing in her eyes.

“It’s a military-grade locator,” Amina said in a low voice, her tone chilling. “Ngozi’s people used it. The moment Mbare leaves, the locator will lock onto our position, making it easy for them to clean up.”

Gabriel opened his eyes, his gaze landing on Mbare’s retreating back. The corner of his mouth hooked into a cold, grim arc.

“No. They think they’re probing us, but they’re actually exposing themselves.” Gabriel said. “We keep the evidence and cut off their logistics chain. Let them carry the locator far away. Then we make our move.”

As soon as Mbare stepped out of the tree shade, his footsteps suddenly stopped. Behind the bushes at the edge of the rainforest, several figures wearing masks crouched silently, their gazes like snakes, locked tightly on the direction of Gabriel. One of them whispered in a low voice, confirming Gabriel’s involvement, then made a hand signal to his companions.

“Target locked. Preparing for purge.” The man’s voice was ice-cold, like a blade slicing through glass, jarringly sharp in the quiet forest.

Crisis was quietly closing in.

Gabriel quickly dodged sideways, using the cover of an ancient tree to cut off the line of sight. His fingers flew across his tactical terminal. He didn’t directly respond to Amina’s suggestion about preserving evidence. Instead, he synced the already organized Research Station breach of contract clauses and excerpts from the tribal code to the nearest patrol squad via an encrypted channel. He knew full well that Ngozi’s underlings were not ordinary jungle hunters, but professionally trained elimination agents. They would not leave any buffer zone for legal procedures.

“Don’t let them get close to that main road,” Gabriel commanded in a low voice, his tone terrifyingly calm. “Once they enter the blind spot of surveillance, it’s a dead end.”

From deep in the forest path came the sharp snap of breaking branches. The rhythm was urgent and heavy. At least three assault rifles had their chambers loaded and ready to fire. The masked leader no longer hid. He slowly stood up, a suppressed pistol in his hand glinting with cold light under the dappled tree shadows. He didn’t pull the trigger immediately. Instead, he sent a brief acknowledgment via radio toward where Mbare was, confirming the target was under control and awaiting final instructions.

Gabriel gripped the Bronze Drum tightly, his knuckles turning white from the effort. He sensed the killing intent in the air like a tangible black fog, converging on his position. In the instant the agent raised his gun barrel for a lethal shot, a deafening roar suddenly came from above the rainforest. It wasn’t thunder; it was the rage of helicopter rotors slicing through the air in the distance. The massive airflow whipped up leaves and dust, instantly obscuring vision.

The agents’ movements paused for a tenth of a second. This brief hesitation was often the line between life and death.

“Withdraw.” Gabriel barked, dragging Amina into a pre-dug drainage ditch. Simultaneously, his detection vision in his eyes expanded violently. The infrared aiming lines hidden in the shadows were instantly exposed, pointing at his hiding spot like the tongues of venomous snakes. He had to find the flaw in three seconds, or this place would become their grave.