‘You didn’t have to come with me,’ she said pointedly. ‘You were supposed to be going back to Macy.’ She turned away to watch the landscape roll by.
Eddie sat back, glowering. Fisher glanced between the couple, then leaned closer to him. ‘Can I ask you something?’ he whispered.
‘What?’ said the Englishman.
‘Nina. So she’s always like that, then?’
‘Like what?’
‘You know. Ah… pushy. Okay, rude.’
Eddie almost told him to mind his own business, but was irked enough by Nina’s attitude to reply. ‘Yeah, she is,’ he said quietly. ‘About anything archaeological, anyway. Once she decides to go after something, that’s it. That’s all she cares about.’
He paused, about to correct himself for being unfair, but Fisher spoke first. ‘Yeah, I’d noticed. But you seem like a pretty determined guy — you’re ex-military, right?’ Eddie nodded. ‘So why do you put up with that crap?’
Eddie stared at the American. ‘Because I love her. Why do you think?’
Fisher shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Just… just making conversation, you know. No offence.’
The convoy continued along the ragged road for another thirty minutes — then Fortune sat bolt upright. ‘Eddie,’ he said in a warning tone before delivering a terse radio message to the drivers behind.
‘What is it?’ asked Ziff.
‘Think we’re about to stop,’ Eddie cautioned. Ahead, the road weaved through a narrow pass between two humped hills — where a couple of vehicles blocked the road. As they drew closer, he saw men lounging in the shade of nearby trees scramble upright.
‘Military checkpoint?’ asked Fisher hopefully.
‘Nope.’ The waiting men were armed, but none wore uniforms. ‘Militia.’ Fisher swallowed and shrank in his seat.
‘Call themselves Insekt Posse,’ said Fortune, slowing as a man stepped into the road and held up one hand, an AK in his other. ‘You can tell by the armbands.’
Eddie saw that the group all wore strips of red material around their arms. ‘They dangerous?’
‘They can be. They will probably take a bribe, though.’
‘So long as they don’t take our gear,’ said the nervous Fisher. ‘Not sure the network would pay for a documentary shot entirely on someone’s phone.’
‘If they take your cameras, they will take your phones too,’ Fortune told him. ‘But we will handle this.’
He stopped thirty feet short of the man, the two other vehicles pulling up behind. Eddie assessed the four militia members as they approached. All were barely into adulthood, the oldest at most in his early twenties, and had the macho swagger common to undisciplined young men with guns facing those without. He also saw they had red, watery eyes and almost woozy movements; they were high on something. That would slow their reactions, but he didn’t know what it would do to their tempers…
‘You got guns in here?’ he asked Fortune.
‘Yes,’ replied the African as he opened his door, ‘but you won’t need one.’ He gestured to Paris, who joined him, then they went to meet the gunmen.
‘I don’t like this,’ said Nina, watching warily as Fortune spoke in French to the oldest of the group.
‘If anyone can handle them, it’s Fortune,’ said Eddie. All the same, he wished his friend had told him where he had stashed his weapons. He deliberately avoided direct eye contact as one of the militia rounded the bus, staring menacingly at each passenger in turn. The young man was pungent with the odour of both tobacco and whatever narcotic had laced it.
To the relief of the travellers, negotiations were quickly concluded. The leader called out to the others, then came with the expedition’s bodyguards back to the lead bus. ‘They wanted everything we have as a toll,’ Fortune announced, ‘but I have bargained them down to one thousand American dollars.’
‘What!’ snapped Fisher, before hurriedly falling silent as the militia man glared at him.
‘Trust me, it is a bargain. The money?’
‘Outside pocket on the grey-and-blue backpack,’ Nina told him. Fortune found it and produced a wad of hundred-dollar bills, which he counted off into the leader’s hand. The man stuffed the money into a pocket, then said something doubtless meant to sound threatening but which came out under Fortune’s level stare as a reedy stammer. He retreated and shouted to his comrades to move their vehicles off the road.
‘How did you make a deal?’ Nina asked as Fortune returned to the driver’s seat.
He grinned, gold flashing in the sun. ‘I told them my name.’
‘That’s all?’ said Fisher, agog. ‘They backed down just because you told them who you are?’
‘Fortune’s got quite a reputation,’ Eddie said with a smile. ‘Lucky for us, he’s on our side.’
The well-dressed man laughed. ‘You might even say I am your good fortune, eh?’ He signalled to Paris, who had returned to his own bus, and the convoy set off again. The members of the Insekt Posse watched with evident hostility as they passed, but took no action against them.
Ziff sighed in relief. ‘That was close.’
‘There may be more before we reach Nakola,’ said Fortune. ‘Insekt Posse is one of the largest militia groups supporting the LEC, but it is not the only one.’
‘Any of ’em operate out past Nakola?’ Eddie asked.
‘There is no way to know for sure, but I have heard of them hiding in the jungle in the past. Some may be there now.’
‘They use the rivers to get around?’
‘Sometimes, yes.’
‘Right.’ He sat back, thinking.
Nina turned to speak to him, but on seeing his pensive expression held her tongue. His questions to Fortune gave her the feeling that another argument was brewing, and after escaping one tense situation she had no desire to drop immediately into another.
Despite Fortune’s concerns, the rest of the journey to the small village of Nakola was completed without any further militia interference. The rough road, however, had not been so cooperative, a puncture on Paris’s minibus adding almost two hours to the predicted travel time. ‘Oh, my God,’ gasped Rivero as he clambered exhaustedly from his ride. ‘I never want to do that again!’
‘You’ll have to on the way back,’ Howie reminded him.
‘Maybe I’ll just stay here. There’s a hotel, it’s got a bar — what more do I need?’
‘I don’t think it’ll win any Michelin stars,’ said Nina. Even at night, lit only by the headlights of the three vehicles and scattered lamps, Nakola’s wretched poverty made Butembo look like Dubai.
‘It’s not bouncing around over potholes, so that’s good as far as I’m concerned,’ Eddie grunted as he collected their belongings.
‘I know,’ she agreed. ‘It’ll be great to get into a room for the night.’
Five minutes later, she had changed her mind. ‘Okay. Maybe we’ll just sleep in the bus,’ she said in disgust on seeing their squalid chamber. The bed linen not only hadn’t been changed since the previous occupant, but it seemed entirely possible that said occupant had died in their sleep and not been discovered for days.
Eddie shrugged. ‘I’ve slept in worse places.’
‘Oh yeah? Where?’
‘Well, I was in a Zimbabwean prison once. And you’ve camped in the jungle before, you know what it’s like with all the insects and stuff.’
She pointed at a thumb-width crack in one wall, through which a creeper was protruding. ‘Yeah, but it’s different when the jungle’s trying to get indoors with you!’
‘We’ll stick a groundsheet over the bed and kip in our sleeping bags. It’ll be fine.’