The picture swung upward, following the line of the last dam to the larger encampment in the woods on the far side. Here the trees and undergrowth had been adapted to allow a considerable number of tents to be erected. There was more wire. But there were no guard posts — nor, as far as Richard could see, any patrols. Instead, on a long sweep of naked black mud, there were teams of men with mechanical shovels, bulldozers and eight-wheel trucks shovelling up the black mud. Then the picture swung away to their right, following the sweep of the black-shored lake. And here there was yet more movement. Three Chinese versions of the MI-26 heavy transport helicopters were swinging massive hooks into the weeds and dragging them into the jungle on the upslope, but it was clearly slow work, for the mats of water hyacinth broke up too easily. So there were more Russians on the shore beneath the labouring choppers, hooking and dragging the smaller fragments of the mat when it fell back into the black water. ‘We’ll go for them first,’ decided Richard. ‘We can take them and give your men their guns, Ivan. Double our force before sunset. Then we’ll be ready for Ngoboi, Odem and the Army of Christ. The only other thing I need to know is what our radio operator thinks of their radio shack.’ As he said this, the shack in question filled the screen. It was a larger tent than the others, with a tall pole sticking up out of it to serve as an aerial and a line running up to a nearby tree where it was attached to a big dish on a branch about six metres up. ‘That’s the jammer,’ said Richard. ‘Unless General Ngama’s got Sky TV.’
The screen went blank as Oshodi turned off the binoculars. ‘Right,’ Richard concluded. ‘Now this is what we’re going to do …’
Black
There was no jungle left in Congo Libre. It had been destroyed to make room for cattle ranches, okra farms and opium fields. There were secret societies among the peoples who inhabited the country, but these were of Bantu farming origin and nothing like the Poro or the Sande. They were simple agricultural and historical organizations, using bilumba witch doctors to read the past with lukasa beaded memory boards and the future using mboko baskets. They required no sacrifices, blood or hearts. The Congo Libran soldiers knew nothing about the gods on this side of Karisoke, except that they were terrifying. They knew less about the virgin jungle which clothed the volcano’s south-western slopes, except that it was full of creatures and spirits that would kill the unwary without a second thought. And they were afraid, even before Ngoboi appeared and began to mutilate the crucified Mako.
The group guarding the Russians dragging the water hyacinth out of the lake, therefore, were terrified when Anastasia’s Amazons appeared like ghosts out of the jungle. They were disarmed, made to strip and tie each other up before Ado and Esan gagged them all, while Richard and Anastasia went after her compatriots, completing the rescue so slickly that only the most eagle-eyed pilot in the big Mils so low overhead would have noticed. Richard and Anastasia led the ten newly liberated men laden with guns and uniforms to the big radio shack where corporals Abiye and Oshodi were firmly in control. From outside, the shack appeared empty but it was in fact crowded, and it soon became more so. The Congo Libran radio operator and his assistant were on the floor beneath a table gagged with duct tape and bound with flex. Their eyes were huge and their foreheads beaded with sweat.
‘Corporal Oshodi,’ said Richard as the forty members of his rapidly expanding army packed themselves in as though this were the Black Hole of Calcutta. ‘We need to get a message out, but we don’t want anyone near the lake to know we’re here yet.’
‘I can send a compressed file,’ Oshodi promised. ‘There would be an incomprehensible blurt of sound on one carefully selected channel, then everything would be back to normal. Unless they are monitoring very closely — and this man had neither the training nor the equipment to do so — they will suspect nothing. But where should I send it?’
‘Send it to Tchaba,’ said Richard. ‘He knows we’re here. He’s waiting to hear from us. He can contact the others. Now, here’s what I want you to say …’
Richard took a closer look around the shack while Oshodi was working on his orders. His wise eyes soon discovered the jamming equipment and his long fingers stroked it thoughtfully. But he left it switched on and continued searching. After a few moments he found something that brought a lopsided smile to his saturnine face. It was a box of headsets piled on top of a central command transceiver. Richard crouched, ripped the tape from the radio operator’s face and growled in Yoruba, ‘I’d like you to tell me about these.’
‘Right,’ Richard continued a few moments later. ‘Anastasia, your girls need to get into the kit we took from the Congo-Libran soldiers. Corporal Abiye’s men will pass muster as they are, but you all stick out like sore thumbs. I have something else in mind for you, though, Ivan. We need to split your men into teams.’ He raised his voice. ‘First, are there any VDV men here?’
Half-a-dozen hands went up. Half-a-dozen faces almost as battered as Ivan’s looked confused. Why would the mad Anglican need VDV men? ‘Right. As soon as the girls are in soldiers’ gear I want you back working on the water hyacinth. Will the chopper pilots have noticed you were gone?’ There was a general shaking of heads. ‘Back to work it is then, but what I want you to prepare is this …’
Five minutes later the crush in the shack eased as the VDV men and their disguised guards left, led by Ado and Esan, who had a battlefield radio headset clamped to the side of his face. Richard continued talking Russian. ‘Are there any GRU men — boat specialists, forty-fifth regiment men?’ Again, several hands went up. The battered faces showed less surprise now. ‘Ivan. You take half a dozen of Abiye’s men and go aboard a RIB with this lot. Look as though you’re under guard and busy with something important. I need you to get across the lake and find Max. Find General Ngama if you can — they might well be together, knowing Max. He’ll be trying to cut a deal. I need you to bring them back here. If you hit any complications you need to be aware that I’ll be moving soon after sunset. The signal will be when the guard towers blow up. Then all hell will break loose if everything goes to plan. So you’ll have to be quick. Here’s your headset. But hang on. There’s one more thing I need from you before you go.’ He switched from Russian to Matadi. ‘So, Abiye, I’ll need you and the two men with the MANPADS, one for each tower. And some really competent snipers. You’ll be with me and in the loop to begin with, but you’ll need this headset later. Listen for the code word GIBSON.’ Then back to speaking in Russian. ‘Anastasia, how do you feel about having your hair cut with a matchet? You and I are going what they call in the trade deep black. Disguse.’
‘And what about your disguise?’ she asked as he began to saw at her hair.
‘Don’t worry, it’ll be even more painful than yours. And black on a whole new level.’ He glanced up. ‘Ivan, I need to borrow one of your guys’ kit.’
‘A pair of Russian cargo pants and a dirty vest won’t fool anyone,’ said Anastasia. ‘You’ll still look like one of the earlier James Bonds.’