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Harvey nodded and used the laptop to type some message. I knew that there were our people with the convoy, so they would now be warned.

There was still traffic on the road, as this was one of the major routes from the middle of the country to the border. Trucks passed us every few minutes. We did not want to give the game away, so I sent one vehicle with four men ahead, to drive through, as if normal traffic, and then to slowly scout the scene and see if there was a way to get to the enemy vehicles. I reasoned that the ambush team were as reluctant to show out as were we. They didn’t want some truck driver with a cell phone releasing too much information. Therefore, I did not believe they’d put a check point in, just in case someone saw too much.

We listened tensely to the radio as the others approached the ambush scene and then drove through, unmolested – there was no check-point. We now had a small force ready to flank them.

The convoy was now only about an hour behind us. We had less than two kilometres to cover on foot, so we left the vehicles with one man guarding them and took off in two parties. One was heading to the south, to follow the river along and then try to get behind the larger force on that side of the road.

I was with five guys heading on the other side of the road, climbing above the enemy if possible. My reasoning was that soldiers will do the minimum exertion to get the job done, so would only climb as high as they felt safe and no higher. We went to the top of the escarpment and approached looking down into the gorge below.

We timed it well, for we had only just managed to get into a suitable position from which we could see the enemy when we got word that the presidential convoy was minutes away.

It was like a fairground side show. The ambushers were so taken by surprise that they never knew who or what hit them.

It started with a couple of explosions as their vehicles were destroyed by the first team. In the ensuing confusion, as they rushed about to ascertain what had happened and died in a hail of accurate sniper fire and latterly heavy machine gun fire. At no time were any of my team in danger, as the enemy never knew what hit them.

As the noise and smoke died away, the convoy appeared and drove slowly through the pass, mostly unaware that there was anything amiss.

As the vehicles passed, I saw Holasu G'ymbai wave at us from the back seat of the Toyota Land Cruiser in which he rode. I knew he planned to stop in H’Aki, the next town, as it was his home town and he wanted to address the people there. I wondered how much he knew of me.

“Harvey, we have to get ahead of them again. Leave half the team here to clear up, and the rest of us have to get a move on,” I said.

We were on the road again, in two vehicles. The five from the north side of the road were now tasked with getting to Juminka with two objectives; the first was to secure the route to the presidential mansion to prevent assassination opportunities, and the second was to locate and detain my old friend Malcolm Mombossu before he fled the country with whatever his sticky hands could carry.

I was looking forward to the latter part. The cell phone rang, so I answered it. Harvey was having a hard time keeping the vehicle on the road, as the road surface resembled the surface of the moon. It was our intelligence link in the States.

The latest news was that Mombossu was still in Juminka, depending, no doubt, on the ambush to secure his position as president. We hoped their communications had been successfully prevented by our attack, but knew that word would reach him once G'ymbai stopped at H’Aki and started his speech.

As we left the gorge behind us, we came round a bend to find the convoy stopped at the side of the road. We were informed they had pulled over to let us pass and to give us half an hour before entering the town of H’Aki.

It was only fifteen kilometres from H’Aki to Juminka, but with these roads, we needed every minute we could get.

The main problem was that traffic was still using the roads, and as there was no railway, all freight went by road, so this could be trucks or donkey carts; very slow ones!

Even with the air conditioning on, I was sweating and watching the clock. I had a floor plan of the presidential Mansion on the laptop, so I tried to work out how best to locate Mombossu. To give Harvey his due, even with his hand almost permanently on the horn, he drove well, and I could see beads of perspiration on his ebony face as he struggled against everything the road threw at him. The driver in the vehicle behind had a fight to keep up, but then he had less to do, as we were clearing the way.

Mud-hutted villages flew past us, with barefooted children staring at us as the dust followed us past their homes. This was a nation impoverished by daily life, let alone the hardships brought about by civil war and corrupt government. They rarely saw vehicles such as ours, and even rarer saw white skins on the occupants of cars on their roads.

There was no grand sign announcing the outer limits of Juminka. The huts became closer together and some of the roofs had corrugated iron instead of woven reeds, leaves or grass. The mud huts gave way to more permanent structures of concrete and blocks, and some of the buildings actually had glass in the windows.

We kept going straight, as this road went right to the heart of the city, where there was a large crossroads by the river, at the apex of which was the presidential mansion.

Using the radio I instructed the other vehicle to head for the airport to prevent any flight departing, just in case we were too late and Mombossu was already headed that way.

Although there were cars and trucks on the streets, and people seemed to be going about their daily routines, there was a conspicuous absence of anyone resembling a soldier. If the rumours of the returning president with his loyal soldiers were true, then the followers of Mombossu knew their chances were slim if they stayed and faced them. Most had run away, back to their villages and farms.

Thanks to my actions with the diamonds, the promises of the fleeing Mombossu had never materialised, which included the salaries and bonuses for loyal service. The will to fight had evaporated, so the man was almost alone.

I checked my watch as the Presidential mansion came into sight. By my reckoning, G'ymbai was starting his speech at that very moment, so perhaps a cell phone was now ringing inside this imposing, colonial-style building.

Built by the French in the latter part of the nineteenth century, it reflected a bygone era, in much the same way as some of the architecture in Vietnam.

No sentries stood in the striped guard-boxes; no flag fluttered from the flagpole. In fact, the place looked deserted.

Harvey pulled up in front of the closed gates, glanced at me and then reversed up, aimed the car at the middle of the wrought iron gates and put his foot to the floor. The gates sprung open as if make of tin and the vehicle came to a halt at the foot of the steps up to the front door. A large crowd started to gather outside the gates to watch as we got out of the car.

“Check the back!” I shouted to Harvey as I left the car and took the steps two and three at a time.

A boot against the door opened it, and I entered a different world.

Obviously it had seen better days, as the recent occupier had not exactly been a good housekeeper, but still the cool interior and relatively grand décor and furnishings gave it a surreal feel.

My rubber-soled boots made no sound on the plush, but stained red carpet that covered the floor of the corridor down to the presidential apartments to the east.