‘It won’t just be them. Fortune said he’d hired three other guys.’
‘They’re porters, not bodyguards. And I don’t know anything about them.’ A pause, then: ‘I’m coming with you to the river.’
‘What?’ she protested. ‘Eddie, it’s a full day’s drive away — that’s a two-day round trip for you. And it’ll take at least another day before you can get back to Macy.’
‘My dad and Julie can look after her for a bit longer.’
‘That’s… kind of an imposition. Are you serious?’
‘Bloody right I’m serious. Fortune’s a good man, and Paris seems on the ball, but they’re just two guys. And two guys aren’t enough to protect a nice juicy party of rich foreigners.’
‘And you think having three guys will make all the difference?’
‘You know what the third guy can do. Especially when it comes to keeping you safe.’
She couldn’t dispute that after everything they had been through together. ‘Yeah, but… Eddie, you can’t leave Macy with her grandparents for an extra two days. It’s not fair on them, and it’s not fair on her.’
His attitude did not change. ‘I’ll tell you what else wouldn’t be fair on her: her mum not coming back at all because some militia scumbag decided to steal some camera gear. Once you’re safely on the boats I’ll head back, but I’m not leaving you until then. And that’s that.’
‘It is, is it?’ Nina said, defiant — but knowing that on this occasion, there was no way he would back down. Nevertheless, she refused to retreat herself. ‘Then I think you should be the one to explain to Macy why her daddy isn’t going to see her for at least another three days. And also explain to your daddy.’
‘I will, don’t worry. And I know Macy’ll be upset, but there are things that’d upset her a lot more. As for Dad, pfft.’ A dismissive sound. ‘He always preferred playing golf to being with his kids, so he can bloody well make up for it with his grandkid.’
Nina had more to say, but another couple of gunshots outside — more distant, but still clear — held back the words. ‘Hope that doesn’t go on all night,’ she said instead, with false levity.
‘We’ll see,’ Eddie replied. ‘I’ll let Fortune know about the change in plans, then we’ll ring Macy. After that, we’d better get some food and then some shut-eye. ’Cause tomorrow’s going to be a long day.’
‘Yeah,’ she said, still frustrated with him. ‘I get the feeling it will.’
8
If there were any further incidents in the night, Nina had been too tired to hear them. But she awoke before dawn, filled with renewed energy. Reaching Butembo was merely the overture; the expedition proper was about to begin.
Knowing they had a long journey ahead, the team had a full breakfast before assembling outside the hotel. The two minibuses awaited them, along with a well-worn Toyota pickup truck. Joining the explorers were three Congolese men. ‘Our porters,’ Fortune announced. ‘Masson Kimba, Lenard Chumbo and Cretien Wemba.’
‘Morning,’ said Eddie, shaking hands with each in turn. Kimba was broad and muscular, his smiling round face shaded by a ragged red baseball hat bearing the incongruous logo of Manchester United football club. Chumbo, in contrast, had a wiry build and prominent cheekbones, but his expression was equally cheerful. The last man, Wemba, fell unremarkably between the others’ extremes. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of knock-off designer sunglasses with reflective blue lenses. ‘Nice to meet everyone.’ He turned back to Fortune. ‘They know how to handle themselves?’
His Congolese friend — his suit from the previous day replaced by a more practical but equally stylish safari outfit — nodded. ‘They will not panic if there is trouble. You can count on that.’
Eddie stepped back as Nina and Ziff introduced themselves to the newcomers, noticing that Rivero was recording events with a professional Handicam. ‘You putting this on Facebook?’
‘I’m always shooting, man,’ Rivero replied. ‘The more footage you got, the easier things are in the edit. Besides, you never know when something’s gonna happen.’
‘Make sure you get my good side,’ Eddie joked.
Fisher shook hands with the porters, then straightened imperiously to address all the Africans. ‘Just so you all know, I’m the director, which means I’m in charge,’ he told them. ‘I call the shots. If I say something needs to be a certain way, then that’s how it gets done. I’m not really a bad guy, so if everyone does what I say, I won’t have to act like one. Okay?’
The porters exchanged looks, Wemba frowning behind his glasses — then Paris exaggeratedly bowed to the director. ‘Oh, yassa, yassa, massa. We all do what the great white man say, yassa.’ Fortune laughed.
Fisher’s cheeks flushed. ‘That’s — that’s not how I meant it. It wasn’t!’ He turned to his crew for support, only to find them trying to hide smirks. ‘Really, it wasn’t.’
Eddie nudged Rivero. ‘Did you get that?’ The cameraman nodded.
The three chuckling porters responded to an instruction from Fortune and began to load the baggage into the waiting vehicles. Rivero conspicuously refused to surrender his Sony, while Lydia hurriedly retrieved a padded bag that Eddie guessed contained her sound equipment. Just as soldiers were fiercely protective of their gear, so too were the documentary crew.
It did not take long for everything to be secured. Fortune addressed the group. ‘It will take eleven, twelve hours to reach Nakola — if we are lucky. The road is bad, so we cannot go fast, and we may be stopped along the way. If that happens, stay in your seat and let Paris and me handle it.’
‘That sounds kinda ominous,’ said Fisher.
‘Why do you think we’ve got three bags of US dollars?’ Nina said. ‘It’s not for snacks at gas stations.’
‘Huh. So we’re gonna get shaken down?’
‘Just tell ’em you’re the director and you call the shots,’ Eddie told him, grinning. Fisher huffed.
They boarded the three vehicles. Fortune started the lead bus, Paris following suit in the second and Wemba bringing the pickup to rattling life at the rear of the little convoy. ‘D’accord, tout le monde est prêt?’ Fortune asked over a walkie-talkie. Both replies were in the affirmative. ‘Okay,’ he told his passengers. ‘We are go.’
He pulled away, the other vehicles following. They waited for the security gate to open, then rolled into the streets of Butembo, heading out of the dusty town.
‘You weren’t kidding about the roads,’ Nina complained. Three hours into the journey, and any tarmac surfaces were a long way behind them. The scenery was beautiful, rippling hills dotted with increasingly dense stands of trees and bushes, but once they left the main route between Butembo and Goma far to the south to head west towards the Congo basin, hard-packed red earth was the best surface they could hope for. Unfortunately, even that was an infrequent luxury, the track mostly suspension-punishing ruts, potholes and stones. ‘I’m starting to feel seasick.’
‘Starting?’ said Fisher queasily. He had chosen to ride with Nina, Eddie and Ziff in the lead bus, his crew in the second.
‘This is the good part of the road,’ Fortune assured them cheerily.
Nina sighed. ‘Eddie, the next time I decide to head into the jungle to look for a lost city, remind me to bring a big-ass cushion.’
‘Or you could, y’know, not go at all,’ suggested her grumpy husband from the seat behind. He had endured plenty of hard rides in his military career and beyond, but now he was in his mid-forties he was realising to his annoyance that his tolerance for discomfort had lowered considerably.