A rangy, bearded man emerged from the lead SUV. ‘Hey!’ he called. ‘Fortune, Eddie!’
‘Speak of the devil,’ Eddie said to Fortune before shouting back. ‘Scotty, hi! I heard you were here.’
Roux jogged to them as other men spread out behind him. ‘Yeah, working corporate security,’ he said. ‘What about you?’
‘My wife’s filming a documentary. I’m just making sure she’s safe. Would have been easier if your guys hadn’t poached everyone!’
The South African shrugged apologetically. ‘Always up to do you a favour, Eddie, but Monardril got me first. Very good pay too, mate!’ He squinted into the wind as the chopper touched down. ‘Anyway, got to go. If you’re staying around, give me a call.’
‘Leaving first thing, but thanks anyway.’
‘No problem. Catch you later. You too, Fortune.’ He tipped them both a cheery salute, then hurried to the helicopter. ‘Sir Robert! Your car is over here.’ He led a tall, stone-faced man with expensively styled silver hair to his SUV.
‘That’s the mining boss?’ Nina asked.
Fortune nodded. ‘British. A very funny thing. Very few of the men he hired are Congolese, and none are black. If I did not know better,’ a wink at Eddie, ‘I would think all British are racist.’
‘Doubt the big boss hired ’em all personally, but yeah, afraid some Brits are still arseholes. Had to have words with one in London just the other day.’
‘You did?’ said Nina. ‘Wait, was Macy with you?’
‘Yes, but don’t worry, I didn’t kill anyone in front of her. Just some light maiming.’
‘Uh-huh.’
He grinned, then watched as the convoy swept away. ‘All that for just one bloke?’
‘There has been much violence recently,’ Fortune told him. ‘The rebel group, LEC — Liberté pour l’Est du Congo — has made many attacks.’
‘How bad?’
‘Mostly against the government and the police, but there have been some attacks on civilians, including foreigners. That is why the mining company has hired so many guards — they do not want their executives to be kidnapped or killed.’
‘Oh, that’s not scary at all,’ said Nina.
‘Nina!’ called Ziff, approaching with the camera crew. ‘We’ve unloaded everything. Are we ready to go?’
‘Whenever you are,’ she replied. ‘I assume?’
‘We are ready,’ said Fortune, gesturing towards a pair of battered minibuses.
‘Okay, cool.’ Introductions were made, then the group had their passports checked by a bored official before going to the buses. Nina joined Fortune, Eddie and Ziff at the first, Paris taking the film crew to the second. ‘Shall we go?’
Rughenda airfield was actually surrounded by the low-rise sprawl of Butembo, so they entered the town immediately upon leaving its grounds. Nina’s observation from the air still held; it was not a place of great wealth, most houses mere shacks. She also noticed that while the road from the airfield towards the civic centre was blacktop, almost all those leading off it were mere dirt tracks. What money there was in the area was highly concentrated.
She saw a commotion ahead. ‘What’s going on?’ A group of policemen had cornered some youths against a building, one of the cops tearing down posters from its wall.
Fortune glanced over. ‘They were putting up posters for the LEC. Idiots. Why do that in the middle of the day? They know people will call the cops.’
‘Maybe they want to get caught,’ she mused. ‘Make a political statement.’
‘The only statement will be made by the police, and it will be in broken teeth and bones. The government is doing everything it can to stop Kabanda. They will not allow the east to break away without a war.’
‘Who’s Kabanda?’ asked Ziff.
‘The leader of Liberté pour l’Est du Congo, Fabrice Kabanda. That is him on the posters.’
Nina looked across as they passed the disruption. She had just enough time to see the image of a handsome, smiling man in his early thirties before the last poster was ripped down. ‘He looks kinda young to be a revolutionary leader.’
‘When better to be one?’ said the Israeli rhetorically.
‘He is only half the story,’ said Fortune, driving on. ‘Kabanda is the public face of the LEC. I personally do not agree with him, but he is very charismatic. He is the man who attracts new followers. But if he is the glove, Le Fauchet is the fist inside it.’
‘Le Fauchet?’ Nina asked. ‘Doesn’t that mean something like “the scythe”?’
‘Yes. It is not his real name, I am not sure what is. But he has united many of the local militias behind Kabanda. When the LEC commit acts of violence, it is Le Fauchet who has ordered it.’
‘The LEC — are they pros?’ Eddie asked, concerned.
Fortune shook his head. ‘Most are boys with Kalashnikovs, high on drugs. The government soldiers usually deal with them easily. But they are becoming more dangerous now that Le Fauchet is training them and buying modern weapons.’ He pointed. ‘Look, there — that man. He is one of Le Fauchet’s victims.’
Eddie and Nina saw a skinny man walking along the roadside, a transistor radio held to his ear in one hand — his only hand. All that remained past the elbow of his other arm was a diagonal stump. ‘Oh, my God,’ said Nina. ‘What happened to him?’
‘He must have opposed or offended Le Fauchet in some way,’ Fortune said sombrely as they drove past. ‘But that is his trademark, to cut off the right arm with a machete. It is what the Belgians did when they ruled the country. Le Fauchet has… appropriated it.’
‘Poor bastard,’ muttered Eddie.
‘He is lucky,’ Fortune countered. ‘He is still alive. Most who have met Le Fauchet are not.’
‘Then I really, really hope I never meet him,’ said Nina.
‘We will do everything we can to protect you, do not worry.’
‘There’s only two of you to do it, though,’ said the Yorkshireman. ‘What about porters? Did you find anyone?’
‘Yes,’ came the reply. ‘Three local men. I have worked with one before, and the other two were recommended to me.’
Eddie was not reassured. ‘Only three?’
‘You wanted men with experience in the jungle. Such people are always in demand.’
‘It’ll be fine, Eddie,’ said Nina. ‘I’m sure they’ll be enough.’
‘We’ll see,’ he said, unconvinced.
Fortune brought them to one of Butembo’s few major hotels. Both minibuses were checked at a security gate before being allowed through its high wall. They pulled up at the entrance. ‘Everything has been prepared for you,’ said Fortune as he got out.
Fisher came to them from the second bus, a pair of heavy bags slung from his shoulders. The other members of his team were equally laden with gear. ‘Is this place safe?’ he asked. ‘I saw lower walls in Israel around the Palestinian territories!’ Ziff shot him a disapproving look.
‘The hotels are as safe as anywhere around here,’ Paris assured him.
Lydia snorted. ‘Now I’m really worried.’
‘Do not worry,’ Fortune intoned sonorously. ‘I assure you, the dark hordes of Africa will not swarm over the walls in the dead of night to feast upon your precious white flesh.’
Fisher blanched. ‘Uh — no, I didn’t mean it that way. It wasn’t a racial thing. Really!’
‘No, nothing like that,’ Lydia hurriedly added.