As the terrified clinic staff did what he ordered, with the help of Sister Hope, under the guns of his command, Odem went through the neat little ward. There were four patients. He looked at three of them with no interest whatsoever. He looked at the fourth and smiled.
Ten minutes later, Captain Odem surveyed his command and their prisoners. ‘Bring the patients too,’ he ordered. ‘Leave the place empty. It will sow confusion. Give us extra time — for the women must have told them we are somewhere near. We will not take the sick ones far, as they will slow us.’ He looked down. His smile lingered. Ngoboi had been kind. The capture of this woman would outweigh the escape of the other two. ‘Except for this one. This one is Celine Chaka, the daughter of the president. General Nlong wants her specifically, so she will be coming all the way back upriver with us.’
FOURTEEN
Burning
‘Dangerous?’ laughed Robin. ‘How could it be dangerous? Weren’t you paying attention to anything Chaka said?’ She pushed a plate of apon and iresi — meat stew and rice — to one side and looked up with a frown. ‘The President’s sending me upriver to take a message to his daughter. She’s in a combination orphanage, kindergarten and religious retreat on the bank of a quiet river in the middle of a deserted jungle. She’s surrounded by nuns and school kids. The scariest person anywhere near her is Anastasia Asov — and she’s a friend of ours.’
Richard sipped his sparkling water; his expression said he was unconvinced.
‘The only complication anyone can see is the fact that their communications have gone down,’ Robin persisted, tapping on the tablecloth with her unused pudding fork to emphasize her points. ‘But that’s nothing unusual; they’re in the back of beyond and even the nearest town, Malebo, keeps going off-air on a regular basis. It’s par for the course. So they need a messenger to go up there in person and Chaka’s chosen me. He thinks Celine will listen to me. If I can, I’m to bring Celine back to him. If not, then I’m just to wash my hands of it and come straight home.’ She threw down her fork with a little more force than she meant to, and sat back. ‘What could be easier?’
In the face of Richard’s continued silence, she leaned forward again and continued, ‘And what’s he given me to back me up? In case Anastasia’s antsy or the nuns turn nasty? Shaldag FPB004. A fast patrol boat that is just about the speediest thing afloat. A crew of ten commandos commanded by the best captain available. A boat that is, Captain Caleb assures me, armed with a stabilized 20 millimetre gun, and two 0.5 inch machine guns. Not to mention hand-held and shoulder-launched weapons systems, and, of course, standard issue personal armaments for each man. Semi-automatic, handgun, commando knife, whatever. And this kit isn’t special issue if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s standard. It’s what the Shaldags carry.’
‘It’s not the weaponry,’ said Richard at last. ‘The last time you were up in the delta you and Anastasia had been kidnapped. Celine and I were coming after you, fair enough, but it was the fact that all we heard from you — all we heard about you — was the kidnappers’ messages, threats and demands. It was you I needed to talk to — and you were out of contact…’
Robin’s expression softened. She remembered how stressful the incident had been — oddly, it had been worse for him than it had been for her. She could understand why he wanted to avoid any chance at all that the nightmare might be repeated. But she was going to go for all that; the president’s mission was simply too good to miss. ‘FPB004 has broadband, satellite, GPS, radar, sonar. She has better navigation equipment than your precious top-of-the-range Katapults. She can sail at fifty knots for seven hundred nautical miles — more than enough for the round trip, especially as we will be carrying an extra six tons of spare fuel, which should get us another five hundred nautical miles or so. If we halve our speed — when coming back downriver, say — we double our range. And we are talking nautical miles here. That’s twelve hundred and sixty klicks at full speed and twenty-five hundred if we’re careful. God! I bet we could sail right up to those famous volcanoes — Mount Karisoke and the rest — if we wanted.’
She could see him wavering. So she pushed home her advantage ruthlessly. ‘Jesus, Richard, it’s like I was taking a walk from Nelson’s Column to Buckingham Palace, wrapped in cotton wool with an armed guard from the household cavalry! It’ll be a walk in the park…’
‘Yes,’ he acknowledged. ‘St James’s Park, in fact.’ But there was still that lingering scepticism in his voice as he sought to puncture her grandiose comparison.
‘Oh, Richard,’ she challenged him directly at last. ‘What on earth could go wrong?’
Richard threw up his hands in defeat. ‘I just wish I was coming with you,’ he said. And that, she knew. was the crux of the matter.
‘In case I need someone to hold my hand, wipe my nose or change my nappy?’ she teased, lightening the atmosphere. ‘Come on, darling! You’ve got enough to keep you occupied here. And the upside from the Heritage Mariner point of view is that while I’m doing my Mary Poppins act upriver, Chaka himself promises to head up the negotiations. That’ll short-cut Minister Ngama and his cohorts. Maybe even outmanoeuvre BP, Shell, Exxon, Conoco and the rest!’
‘OK,’ he acquiesced. ‘I give in. So what’s the plan now?’
‘I get my Jungle Jane kit on, throw one or two necessaries in a grip, and go down to what little Captain Zhukov’s fans left of the new docks.’ She was on her feet already, unable to contain herself any longer, heading from the reception room into the bedroom. ‘You, my darling, get the team together and get ready to go and kick some presidential bottom.’
The conversation took place over the remains of a late lunch in the Nelson Mandela Suite. It had been a busy day so far and it looked like getting busier, if anything. While the Mariners had been lunching, the venue of the morning’s meeting was being moved to the president’s own offices for the afternoon session and everyone was due to reassemble there in the cool of the afternoon at four. Caleb’s Shaldag was being refuelled and prepared to undertake the president’s mission with a night-run upriver which should get them to Celine’s school sometime the next morning.
For Richard the prospect was of another boring meeting, a quick change, another formal dinner, a lonely night and yet another lengthy meeting tomorrow. The only positive element to his day so far had been the adventure of the burning corvette and the awesome experience of Captain Zhukov’s private hurricane. It was all clearly going to be downhill from there. He could not begin to express his boredom and depression.
Robin on the other hand could scarcely contain her excitement, he thought, with pure, simple jealousy. In about a tenth of the time it usually took her to change — only just giving him time to contact his negotiating team — she had slipped into a pair of jeans and solid-looking boots. She was tucking a seemingly indestructible plum-coloured brushed silk blouse into a solid leather belt and catching up a safari jacket he didn’t even know she possessed. Then she was off, with Richard almost sullenly in tow.
‘Get my bag for me, would you?’ she asked winningly as she reached for the door handle. And so he followed her down to reception with a surprisingly heavy Louis Vuitton Canvas Keepall in one hand and his black leather briefcase in the other. When Andre Wanago gallantly relieved him of the Keepall in the lobby as they swept out towards the car, the pained look in the elegant manager’s eyes showed that he realized he had made the wrong choice.
They settled into the back of the hotel limousine. ‘Docks first?’ said Richard. ‘So I can kiss you farewell and wish you Godspeed like a good sailor’s spouse?’ The gentle irony at least showed he was beginning to come to terms with her plans, thought Robin.