‘This certainly makes our suppositions look stronger,’ said Kebila at last. ‘What are your thoughts, Captain?’
‘It was a spy point, all right,’ said Richard decisively. ‘Someone has been keeping a close eye on the orphanage. No matter who they were, that has to be of concern. But as things stand, I would suggest that manikin proved it was the Army of Christ. They were either waiting for Odem to come up with his forces, or they were advising him to wait. But he won’t wait long. Odem has scores to settle here. It was where he was defeated and nearly killed. Where his own personal Ngoboi was faced down and shown to be a fake. If he wishes to use magic to re-establish his power then the orphanage is the place his ju-ju proved to be the weakest — and it is here he must come to restore his reputation.’
Richard looked around the earnest faces in the tent, then carried on. ‘But of course when he left here, wounded and defeated, the orphanage was a lonely and unprotected place at the edge of the jungle. Now his spies are telling him it’s at the edge of a township. Facilities have improved. Communications upgraded. He will likely have more of a fight on his hands if he comes in half-cocked. But on the other hand, there’s much more that’s worth taking, apart from the restoration of his reputation and power. And his revenge on Anastasia and the rest. So he hesitates — maybe tools up, looks for reinforcements.
‘But before he can move, we arrive. That really puts the cat among the pigeons. The spy point is deserted; his men must have pulled back. They’ll only have done that on his orders. Because now he really needs to think. It was one Zubr that did for him last time. Stalingrad, in fact. Now there are two. That’s got to make him stop and consider his options. At the very least he has to find out why the Zubrs are here and who — what — they brought with them.’
‘But, as you say, he’s in a bind …’ purred Kebila.
‘Between a rock and a hard place,’ agreed Richard. ‘What sort of a general claims Ngoboi is his personal god — and then daren’t test him out? I’d double the guards, Colonel. And consider putting out one or two forward posts in the farmland; perhaps even in the jungle to keep an eye on the river. Even with us in place he has to hit the orphanage somehow. Sometime. Soon. If he’s even got half a chance then he’ll have to come to us before we go after him.’
‘And we don’t know how he’s armed this time,’ added Anastasia. ‘Last time it was technicals with heavy duty Russian machine guns. If he’s come across the river now then he must have boats as well this time around. If he’s got mortars or missiles into the bargain, a couple of Zubrs might just look like fish in a barrel to him — just sitting there waiting for his guys to use as target practice.’
‘Right,’ said Kebila. ‘Sergeant Tchaba, double the guards and set up a river watch, then come back here for a further briefing. And Captain, tell Senior Lieutenant Yagula and Colonel Mako I want to see them. And Mr Asov as well.’
Anastasia followed him. Her presence seemed to slow him down. Something in his subconscious probably prompted him to ease back on the quick march. Which, given the way their conversation went, was apt enough. Probably even Freudian. As they both seemed to be heading in the general direction of Ivan and Max — even if she was going to stop at the orphanage before he got to the Zubrs — his earlier thoughts abruptly came flooding back to him. ‘Anastasia,’ he asked, his voice only just rising above the eerie moaning of the night wind in the tent-rigging all around them. ‘Can you tell me anything about how Boris died?’
‘My Boris? Boris Chirkoff? Boris from Simian Artillery?’ she asked, surprisingly equably. ‘Why do you want to know?’
‘It was something I heard your father and Ivan discussing,’ he said. ‘I wondered what actually went on that night. Don’t tell me if it’s too upsetting.’
‘No, I can handle it. You and Robin paid the psychiatrist’s bills that got me over it, after all. And your very expensive shrink said it would do me good to talk it all through — especially with people I respect. What do you want to know?’
‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘Just talk it through.’
‘OK. It’ll be just like another visit to the shrink. Perhaps it’ll do me some good. Especially as I’ve been having nightmares lately — about Ngoboi and Boris. I guess it’s because my father’s in the country. And now Ivan … Well, we were all in the hotel. Simian Artillery and I don’t know how many girls. All of the guys had a steady girl, except Fydor Novotkin on the lead guitar. I think he had the hots for me. But I was with Boris, you know? So, we were all in this hotel. The Petrovka just near Red Square. Simian Artillery had given a concert there on the stage in front of the Kremlin. It was a disaster. They got booed off and then they all got bottled. Fydor was terrible that night. But oddly enough, he was the only one the bottles didn’t hit, though he was usually a brilliant guitar and a good leader. He held the band together for six months or so afterwards. After Boris … But then he vanished and it all just fell apart. I heard he’d come into some money but I was too far gone to care by then.
‘I’d never seen Boris so down as he was that night. It was the last concert they gave with him in the lead — though Fydor took over, as I say. We went back to the Petrovka. We had adjoining suites there. A couple of crates of Russian Standard were already waiting in Boris’s room and Fydor had been slipped some really high-grade coke and passed it to Boris so we all started to party. Things get a little hazy after that. The only one of us anywhere near sober was Fydor. He was pretty cut up about screwing up his solos, I guess. Boris was there to begin with. He was so depressed. He just wanted to get drunk and high. He did that a lot towards the end. I had to fight off Fydor but he went off himself after a while and left me alone. We all just crashed.’
Richard’s footsteps had slowed almost to a standstill. They were three-quarters of the way across the playground, heading down towards the Zubrs, past the main buildings. There was a light in the window of the room he and Robin were sharing but he was caught up in the story. ‘Any idea when Boris went and got the gun?’ he asked.
‘No.’ She answered matter-of-factly, her story practised. He got the impression that she was hardly even listening to herself any more. But he was. He was listening more and more closely. ‘I have no idea. But there were always guns: Simian Artillery by name and nature. Fydor was our gunsmith — we called him the AKman instead of the axeman. I was so drugged up I didn’t even hear the shots. I just remember waking up suddenly, certain that there was something terribly wrong. There was someone beating on the door and screaming like hell. Which was strange, because we never locked the door. Not after Boris nearly killed poor Fydor playing Russian Roulette. I mean, who’s going to break in on a well-armed, spaced-out heavy metal rock band, right? But I do remember people beating the door down at the Petrovka that night. Anyway, there was this smell … Gunsmoke. Blood. Whatever. A stink like you wouldn’t believe! I didn’t answer the door. I went into the bathroom because I was feeling pretty rough. And there he was. He was sitting on the toilet wearing only his jeans. No shirt. No shoes or socks. He had the AK under his chin. He was holding the barrel with both hands. To steady it, I guess. He’d put a towel there too. So he wouldn’t miss. Even at that range. He must have been wasted. And there he was, like, frozen there. The top of his head was gone. His brains were all over the ceiling and the wall. His face wasn’t on straight. But at least his eyes were closed.’